blog by Emily Setty and Jonny Hunt
Last Thursday, 27th February 2025, the UK government published Baroness Bertin’s independent review into pornography, Creating a Safer World – The Challenge of Regulating Online Pornography, which we both contributed to. This is widely seen as a necessary review to address growing concerns about online content. We are pleased to see some forward-thinking and inclusive recommendations, such as those addressing the exploitation of performers within the industry and by financial service providers, and pushing for better industry safeguards. Yet, despite these strengths, the report ultimately falls into familiar patterns—treating pornography as an inherently harmful force, somehow separate from broader social contexts, and reinforcing simplistic narratives that fail to account for the complexities of both adults’ and young people’s engagements with sexual content.
The foreword to the report begins with Baroness Bertin calling for a grown-up conversation, bringing pornography and the industry out of the shadows. We fully agree that this is sorely needed. However, an open, honest conversation—one that will at times be uncomfortable—is impossible when the starting position is already fixed. Bertin writes: “Nobody will convince me that online pornography was not an influencing factor…” in both the horrific Pelicot case in France and the murder of Sarah Everard. This is not the foundation for an open, grown-up conversation—it signals that the conclusion has already been drawn. Moreover, the decision to assign Baroness Bertin to lead this ‘independent’ review was based on her experience working on violence against women and girls (VAWG) and her role in shaping the draft Domestic Abuse Bill. Whether intentional or not, this background clearly influences the framing of the review. This is not to suggest that pornography and VAWG are unrelated, but that approaching pornography primarily through a VAWG lens risks treating all pornography as a contributor to harm, rather than as a diverse and contested cultural form.
One of the key issues in the review is the way it collapses very different forms of sexual content and abuse into a single category of ‘pornography’. This lack of conceptual clarity prevents meaningful policy responses and distorts the conversation. There are some excellent recommendations in the review regarding image-based sexual abuse, such as deepfakes, revenge porn, sexual trafficking and exploitation. However, by definition, these are not pornography. The review offers a definition of pornography as “printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate sexual excitement.” While this is a start, it does not go far enough in distinguishing consensual sexual media from criminal forms of abuse.
For an honest conversation about pornography, we need a clear and precise definition. Take agriculture or food standards as a comparison. We do not conflate modern slavery and exploitation (which are rife in the industry) with food safety regulations. We focus on the task at hand. If we want to discuss pornography productively, we must define it accurately. The definition we personally find most useful is that put forward by Rebecca Sullivan and Alan McKee (2015)[i], which identifies three key criteria:
- Sexually explicit – Pornography involves highly graphic depictions of genitals and/or explicit sexual acts.
- Publicly mediated – It is intended for public consumption, meaning that all parties involved knowingly produce it for distribution.
- Intended to incite sexual pleasure – The primary purpose of pornography is to stimulate sexual arousal.
Under this multifaceted definition, it becomes clear that abuse is not pornography. Indecent images of children, image-based sexual abuse, trafficking and exploitation do not fit within this framework. While there is an urgent need for better policy, policing and support for victims of such abuses, these issues are distinct from pornography. Conflating them not only distorts the debate but risks misdirecting resources away from the specific measures needed to combat online abuse effectively.
In this piece, we highlight both the strengths and limitations of the review, particularly its framing of porn education as harm prevention rather than part of a broader discussion about relationships, sexuality and digital literacy. We argue for a more nuanced and evidence-based approach, drawing on our Reimagining RSE framework based on the concept of Safe Uncertainty, to propose alternative ways of engaging young people in meaningful conversations about pornography. For a more in-depth exploration of these issues, you can read our full long-read analysis, to be published later this week.
What the review gets right: Safeguarding performers and industry accountability
One of the strongest elements of the review is its focus on the rights and safety of sex workers and performers. It highlights exploitation and trafficking risks in the adult industry and recommends stronger verification processes to ensure all performers are consenting adults. It also calls for mechanisms allowing performers to withdraw consent after filming, ensuring they have greater control over their content. This is welcome and demonstrates that the review has engaged with those who work within the industry and are not simply abolitionists, but genuinely want to make a positive difference. Additionally, the review urges platforms to take responsibility for preventing the circulation of non-consensual and stolen content. If platforms agreed to sign up to a statement that simply read, ‘non-consent is not porn, it is abuse’, this could be a powerful step forward.
These recommendations are valuable and long overdue. They shift accountability onto platforms, producers and financial services (which often refuse services to sex workers, increasing their vulnerability and social isolation), rather than individuals, acknowledging the broader structural issues that make the industry unsafe for many performers. This focus also provides a useful starting point for discussions in educational settings, helping young people critically engage with questions of ethics, consent and labour rights in the porn industry.
What the review gets wrong: Reinforcing a one-dimensional narrative
Despite these strengths, the review adopts a reductionist framing of pornography, treating porn as a direct cause of harm rather than acknowledging the complexity of young people’s experiences. Throughout the report, there is an assumption that pornography exposure inevitably leads to negative outcomes, including desensitisation, addiction, misogyny and, ultimately, violence against women and girls.
While it is important to acknowledge that some types of media (pornography and otherwise)—particularly violent or non-consensual content—can be harmful, the review fails to sufficiently engage with research that complicates this picture. Decades of studies have shown that pornography’s effects are mixed and highly context dependent. The review openly acknowledges the lack of clear evidence yet relies on flawed studies, anecdotal evidence and commonsense belief, while ignoring nuanced research that explores the different ways in which men and women use porn, and highlights some benefits, especially for women and LGBTQ+ communities[ii].
A key issue is the way the review treats young people’s testimonies as self-evident proof of harm without questioning how their perspectives have been shaped by dominant discourses. Many young people grow up hearing that porn is harmful, addictive and degrading. When they reproduce these narratives in research settings, this is often taken as confirmation of porn’s damaging effects, rather than as a reflection of the messages they have internalised from adults. This self-reinforcing loop raises important questions about how research on young people and pornography is conducted and interpreted.
To be clear, we are not pro-porn or suggesting that porn is necessarily a positive influence on society or a good place for young people to learn about sex and relationships. However, our Reimagining RSE platform is committed to providing evidence-based RSE, rather than reinforcing moral panic. Unfortunately, there is clear evidence that those who believe porn is harmful, shameful and damaging are more likely to suffer negative consequences (regardless of what or how much porn they consume) as a result[iii]. Approaching porn solely through a lens of fear and harm does not, therefore, equip young people with the tools for open, critical discussion about media, desire, consent and power—elements that are essential for developing their own ethical frameworks and navigating relationships in a digital age.
Beyond harm prevention: A new vision for porn literacy
One of the review’s central recommendations is that porn education be strengthened in schools. While we agree that young people need opportunities to engage critically with sex media (in its broadest sense—the review actively excluded audio porn and written fantasy literature despite their popularity on #Booktok, #smuttok), the way the review frames this education—as a form of harm prevention—is both limiting and counterproductive.
Currently, discussions about pornography in schools often focus on warning young people about its dangers rather than equipping them with the tools to navigate it critically. This approach risks not only alienating young people who have already engaged with sexual content or who don’t see their experiences reflected in adult narratives of harm, but also making productive conversations more difficult due to fears of shame and judgment. It fails to recognise that pornography exists within a broader ecology of sexual learning, shaped by family values, peer norms and broader media representations.
Instead of approaching pornography education as an ‘inoculation’ against harm, we advocate for a model that incorporates Safe Uncertainty—a concept that encourages open-ended, exploratory conversations rather than prescriptive messaging. A Safe Uncertainty approach to porn education would:
- Encourage critical thinking – Rather than telling young people what to think about pornography, educators should ask: What messages do you think porn conveys about sex, relationships, and gender? How do these compare to real-life experiences? This invites discussion rather than imposing moral judgments.
- Address both risks and rewards – Porn literacy should explore not just the potential harms but also why people seek out sexual content, what needs or desires it fulfils, and how individuals can critically engage with it.
- Situate pornography within a broader RSE curriculum – Porn should not be discussed in isolation as a ‘problem to solve’, but as one aspect of how young people learn about sex, desire and intimacy. Starting the conversation with ‘where do young people learn about sex and relationships from?’ is a much better approach than focusing solely on porn. Many of our concerns around unrealistic depictions of sex are not limited to porn but exist across mainstream movies, TV and social media. Linking porn literacy to conversations about media literacy, consent and healthy relationships makes these discussions more meaningful.
- Create spaces for honest dialogue – Young people are more likely to engage in discussions about pornography when they feel they will not be judged or shamed. Framing this conversation solely around harm—similar to ineffective drug education strategies—does not work.
Engaging young people: From theory to practice
If we want porn education to be relevant and impactful, we need to listen to young people and involve them in shaping the curriculum. Some practical steps include:
- Embedding porn literacy as part of broader media and sexual literacy within comprehensive RSE – Rather than standalone ‘porn talks’ that focus solely on dangers, integrate discussions of pornography into wider conversations about media, relationships, gender norms and consent.
- Using real-life scenarios – Case studies and role-playing exercises can help young people navigate issues related to body image, consent and digital ethics in practical ways.
- Challenging simplistic narratives – Instead of repeating ‘porn is harmful’ messages, educators should present different perspectives and allow young people to form their own critical views.
- Recognising young people as experts in their own experiences – Rather than treating them as passive recipients of harm narratives, we should invite young people to reflect on how they make sense of sexual content and what they need from sex education.
Conclusion
The UK Pornography Review raises important concerns about exploitation in the industry and the availability of extreme content, but its overall approach continues the long line of government papers that reinforce outdated moral panics. By treating pornography as an inherent source of harm and positioning education as a tool for prevention rather than critical engagement, the review misses a crucial opportunity to reshape the conversation in a way that actually serves young people.
A Reimagining RSE approach, grounded in Safe Uncertainty, offers a better way forward—one that recognises the complexities of young people’s experiences and provides them with the tools to think critically about pornography rather than simply fearing it. If we truly want to support young people in navigating the digital sexual landscape, we need to move beyond scare tactics and towards an approach that is open, reflective and attuned to the realities of their lives.
[i] Sullivan, R., & McKee, A. (2015). Pornography: Structures, agency and performance. John Wiley & Sons.
[ii] McCormack, M., & Wignall, L. (2017). Enjoyment, exploration and education: Understanding the consumption of pornography among young men with non-exclusive sexual orientations. Sociology, 51(5), 975-991.
[iii] Grubbs, J. B., & Perry, S. L. (2019). Moral incongruence and pornography use: A critical review and integration. The Journal of Sex Research, 56(1), 29-37.