Does pro-Linda mean anti-porn?

In the 1970s Deep Throat star Linda Lovelace was a cheerleader for the emergent porn industry, urging 'decent' Americans to throw off their inhibitions and enjoy the sight of people having cinematic sex in explicit, acrobatic, and often humorous detail. In the 1980s, Lovelace changed her tune, teaming up with the militant feminists who wanted to outlaw porn, and lending her voice to a series of high-profile investigations (the Meese Commission, the Minneapolis Civil Rights Ordinance) which threatened briefly to drive the adult film industry underground again. At the centre of Linda's spectacular volte-face was a controversial book, 'Ordeal', which replaced the upbeat sex-packed action of earlier volumes like 'Inside Linda Lovelace' with blood-curdling accounts of rape, beatings, and sexual imprisonment. In this revised version of her life, Linda was not the star but the victim of Deep Throat, the movie which had made her famous.

For many years, the question of whether people believed or disbelieved Lovelace's allegations of sexual slavery tended to be defined not by the credibility (or otherwise) of her stories, but by the personal and political beliefs of the audience. Those who believe that pornography is inherently degrading have been inclined to accept Lovelace's claims of gross mistreatment and coercion; while those who see porn as a legitimate form of expression have been more inclined to rubbish her accusations as hysterical and imagined. As a long-standing anti-censorship campaigner who supports the legalisation of 'consensual hard-core' recently enacted in the UK, I should have been predisposed to disbelieve the claims of physical violence and mental torture which Linda Lovelace and journalist Mike McGrady recount in 'Ordeal'. Yet, having spent months delving into Linda's unhappy life, I have to confess that I find myself persuaded by most, if not all, of her tales of mistreatment. So does this make me suddenly pro-censorship and anti-porn? Actually, no. Here's why: