The Social Harm of Competence Porn
Arguments against pornography are many and varied, but recovering addicts will admit that it changes the way we see people, and it skews our ideas of the role of intimacy in a relationship. With a simple google search, you can find scholarly articles that analyze the social and neurological effects.
For a few years - I'm not sure if it's still the habit - we used "porn" to describe anything that offered a visual reward of some kind, from "food porn" to "destruction porn" (don't google that one. It'll take you straight to pornhub, which is disturbing on several levels) and even further to images that satisfy a need for visual order. They all give us a kind of satisfaction when we look at them.
I have a particular satisfaction when I read stories or see movies about people who seem to be incapable of making human mistakes. It's called "competence porn" among my friends, and it's very, very satisfying, whether the character in question is a divine hero, or a Magnificent Bastard. I really, really like watching people do something well in a way that's (and this is a key point) only really possible in fiction.
I think it's a necessary part of fiction, because especially in speculative or imaginative literature we can play with possibilities that are not possible yet. It's one way of influencing or producing the future. It's a way of seeing clearly what we want, or want to be.
In the case of sexual pornography the image rewrites desire in unhealthy ways, but not all satisfying images come from that dark, corrupted place. We can be gratified by images of bookshelves, of crayons organized by color, or a well-composed landscape.
As I was tuning out at church the other day, I realized that this kind of porn is, in its way, also socially harmful. It's not addictive in the same way as sexual images are, because it doesn't cause the same chemical changes or dependency. But the social effects are similar. We like seeing people do things well, and we cringe when people fumble, whether we are feeling sympathy or judgment or some combination of both. I think if we let it, it can make us intolerant of ourselves and the people around us, and can damage our relationships.
I have many talented friends, but at the same time I am highly critical of creative projects. I have acquaintances who have acted in films, and sometimes their performance sort of . . . misses. I know photographers and painters and musicians and singers and writers and I try to enjoy everything they do, but not all of them are completely realized at their craft yet. I can be scornful of their work, or I can be patient and encouraging while still offering an honest reaction.
As you may have read in my previous post from my niece, I have a strong instinct for criticism. I'm both introspective and instinctive, and I am very used to both understanding when something doesn't work for me and why, and I'm often a little too vocal about it. But also, when I love something, I love it thoroughly and just as loudly.
I think that when something is published - when a film is released, when a painting or photograph hangs in a museum or gallery, or when you're producing something professionally - you should expect a level of criticism that you didn't get when you were a developing artist. But I also think that I could be a little more careful of the developing artists around me. Because I delight in art, and I think the world needs more of it.
So anyway, I think I'm going to work this week on seeing people as works in progress rather than giving in to the temptation of seeing people as published works. Because competence porn is (futuristic?) fiction, and when something is incredibly well done, we forget about the drafts that have been edited and burned and trashed before a word was just right.
For a few years - I'm not sure if it's still the habit - we used "porn" to describe anything that offered a visual reward of some kind, from "food porn" to "destruction porn" (don't google that one. It'll take you straight to pornhub, which is disturbing on several levels) and even further to images that satisfy a need for visual order. They all give us a kind of satisfaction when we look at them.
I have a particular satisfaction when I read stories or see movies about people who seem to be incapable of making human mistakes. It's called "competence porn" among my friends, and it's very, very satisfying, whether the character in question is a divine hero, or a Magnificent Bastard. I really, really like watching people do something well in a way that's (and this is a key point) only really possible in fiction.
I think it's a necessary part of fiction, because especially in speculative or imaginative literature we can play with possibilities that are not possible yet. It's one way of influencing or producing the future. It's a way of seeing clearly what we want, or want to be.
In the case of sexual pornography the image rewrites desire in unhealthy ways, but not all satisfying images come from that dark, corrupted place. We can be gratified by images of bookshelves, of crayons organized by color, or a well-composed landscape.
As I was tuning out at church the other day, I realized that this kind of porn is, in its way, also socially harmful. It's not addictive in the same way as sexual images are, because it doesn't cause the same chemical changes or dependency. But the social effects are similar. We like seeing people do things well, and we cringe when people fumble, whether we are feeling sympathy or judgment or some combination of both. I think if we let it, it can make us intolerant of ourselves and the people around us, and can damage our relationships.
I have many talented friends, but at the same time I am highly critical of creative projects. I have acquaintances who have acted in films, and sometimes their performance sort of . . . misses. I know photographers and painters and musicians and singers and writers and I try to enjoy everything they do, but not all of them are completely realized at their craft yet. I can be scornful of their work, or I can be patient and encouraging while still offering an honest reaction.
As you may have read in my previous post from my niece, I have a strong instinct for criticism. I'm both introspective and instinctive, and I am very used to both understanding when something doesn't work for me and why, and I'm often a little too vocal about it. But also, when I love something, I love it thoroughly and just as loudly.
I think that when something is published - when a film is released, when a painting or photograph hangs in a museum or gallery, or when you're producing something professionally - you should expect a level of criticism that you didn't get when you were a developing artist. But I also think that I could be a little more careful of the developing artists around me. Because I delight in art, and I think the world needs more of it.
So anyway, I think I'm going to work this week on seeing people as works in progress rather than giving in to the temptation of seeing people as published works. Because competence porn is (futuristic?) fiction, and when something is incredibly well done, we forget about the drafts that have been edited and burned and trashed before a word was just right.
Do you see a connection between "competence porn" and "imposter syndrome"? That's kind of where I expected this to go. All of our exposure to fictional superhuman performance might also be skewing our perspective on what plain old competent is and when we can feel comfortable with our own performance.
ReplyDeleteThat is a brilliant insight. I had not thought of that at all. You are right, that impostor syndrome probably often comes from comparing our norms (or mistakes) to fictional or imaginary mastery.
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