The processes of pornographication, or the mainstreaming of pornography, are
rapidly becoming an area of significant academic interest (e.g. Attwood (ed.),
2009; Hall & Bishop (eds), 2007; McNair, 1996, 2002; Paasonen, Nikunen &
Saarenmaa (eds), 2007; Poynor, 2006; S\u00f8rensen, 2005; St\u00f8, 2003). Most often,
publications dealing with pornographication concentrate on particular areas of
popular culture which are easily recognisable: fashion, art, advertising and
television programming. Analyses of these prominent sites of pornographication
tend to focus on the way in which pornography is gaining greater exposure,
influence and legitimacy in the mainstream. But there are also more subtle sites
of pornographication which are yet to receive the same sort of attention, and I
wish to consider one of these today: the use of pornography in sexology and sex
therapy. In particular I wish to consider the way in which these branches of
medicine are affording pornography considerable legitimacy, and even authority,
in regard to sexual matters and the problems that this trend may pose for
women.History

Sexology, that is the scientific study of sexuality, and pornography are generally
conceived of as very separate entities but the history of the two has frequently
intertwined. Historians have noted the links, for example, between the
distribution networks for pornography and scientific works on sexuality in the
early 20th Century, just as sexology was becoming a recognised discipline (Cocks,
2004). By the 1920s, these connections had intensified and sexologists became
concerned that their works were being circulated through the same underground
networks as pornography. While pornographers generally welcomed this
relationship as it offered them some legitimacy, albeit limited, sexologists feared
that the connection to illegal materials could undermine their fledgling discipline
(Cocks, 2004, p. 281-2).

However, these circumstances radically changed as pornography became
increasing socially acceptable in the West. By the 1960s, instead of fearing a
connection to pornography, sexologists actively sought to fuse relationships with
the growing pornography industry (Collins, 2003). Sex advice columns in
pornographic magazines were one of the most prominent ways in which this
fusion occurred \u2013 the pornography industry gained greater legitimacy and

Pornography and sexology also intertwined in the 1960s through the emerging
area of sex therapy. The newly established discipline of modern sex therapy drew
on pornography as an important tool for understanding human sexuality,
particularly in regard to the training of practitioners. Watching pornography was
taken to be an important part of training for sex therapists. This was done
primarily through what became known as \u201cSexual Attitude Reassessment\u201d
workshops \u2013 or SARs \u2013 first trialled in the late 1960s, where therapists would
watch pornography, usually on multiple screens simultaneously, for several hours
at a time over the course of a two day period (Irvine, 1990; Reiss, 2006). At the
height of the SAR trend, medical professionals could attend up to eight days of
\u201ctraining\u201d which were composed mainly of watching pornographic films (Reiss,
2006).

The materials used in the SAR workshops were generally a mix of hard-core
pornography and so-called \u201cprofessional\u201d films produced by pharmaceutical
companies (Irvine, 1990, p. 94) or therapists themselves (Reiss, 2006). There
was some debate over whether or not any discernable difference existed between
the \u201cprofessional\u201d films and the hard-core pornography, but any suggestion that
they were clearly separate is tenuous at best (Irvine, 1990). Indeed, the
distinction between the professional and the pornographic became even more
blurred when the Playboy Foundation began funding SARs in the early 1970s
(Reiss, 2006, p. 63).

By the 1980s the SAR workshops had become so popular among medical
professionals that SAR components were being integrated into university medical
courses all over the US (Reiss, 2006). But the SAR format also began to create
controversy in the 1980s, especially in the wake of prominent feminist challenges
to pornography (Irvine, 1990). The SAR workshops withstood such challenges,
however, and by the 1990s continued to be so widespread that the peak
professional body for sex therapists in the US, (The American Association of
Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists \u2013 AASECT), released a set of
standards to govern the curriculum of such workshops (Robinson et al., 2002).
Furthermore, the practice of using SAR screenings as part of standard medical