Since human genesis, each generation of bipeds has had a particular relationship with the obscene and pornography. The colleagues from TV3 have recently discovered this impulse among our young and have programmed a documentary series, Generació Porno, basically aimed at scandalizing boomers and grandmothers, at cleansing the moral conscience of parents of my generation, and at making children repeat the well-meaning ethical mantras of the present so that everyone goes to sleep more peacefully (and without needing to touch themselves). The topic has amused me greatly, especially when I have contemplated the Pols and Meritxells of my icser cohort feigning surprise as they pretend to discover videos where buttocks end up bleeding or carnal ecstasy leads to coprophagia. My poor dears, perhaps they thought the kids got aroused reading Kierkegaard and Sade.
This somewhat vulgar abracadabra does not excuse the undeniable fact that there is an imaginary-gestural transfer between pornography and our way of fucking. I understand, therefore, that people who matured with 90s porn (namely, a dominant man who appears at a woman's house to fix her pipes and ends up penetrating her vaginally and anally, ejaculating on her face, all in images from a magazine or a VHS video that one bought or trafficked with friends) are concerned to see how young people can get aroused by images depicting a gang rape of a woman, sex scenes with dismembered corpses, or even with defenseless babies (via an intermediary-free virtual network). But the best way to eliminate fears and discomfort is not to feign a look of horror or to turn young people into moral parrots.
The thing has many nuances, because the interest of Generació Porno ends up being the dialectical envy that parents experience before the way in which young people get by and, no matter how much they try to hide it, the hidden pain by which they end up feeling bad for not having masturbated with such a high level of gruesomeness. Hence, the chapters of the documentary series, given the impossibility of assuming the castrated perversion of the daddies, conclude their episodes with that tertuliano mantra according to which every obscene problem is solved with an open public conversation and more education. Fortunately, my dears, history shows numerous cases of incredibly learned people perpetrating terrible holocausts and of societies with a public conversation of an enviable moral-rhetorical standard that, when no one is watching, end up getting excited with adults who put their hand where they shouldn't. All very well known, in short.
As for pornography and body ideals, something as simple as the aesthetic formation of fantasy and reminding everyone, adults and youngsters, that representations of sex respond to an ideal of imaginary, deviant, and unrealizable sexual drive would suffice. I understand that the disconnection between the pornography of my generation (I insist, of a very rigid proceduralism) and that of younger kids (I insist, with radicalized content of violence and objectification) is more difficult to obtain if one thinks about the naturalness with which kids have integrated mobile telephony and the virtual into their own bodies. But the crux of the matter remains the same: there is not one porn generation, but many, and all of them must be reminded of the inadequacy between corporal sex and its representations. This will protect women and, above all, diminish male vanity.
As always, we need much less morality and a little more aesthetics.