Why Evangelical Christian Men Are So Happy to Have Their Porn Habits Monitored
Last weekend, a 2022 interview with new Speaker of the House Mike Johnson recirculated, in which the ascendant Republican leader described how he and his son monitor each other’s porn-viewing habits. Specifically, they use software called Covenant Eyes to make sure neither of them looks at smut online. Sort of like a Netflix subscription, Covenant Eyes is $17 per month for a family plan that allows up to 10 users on unlimited devices to keep an eye on each other in case a sinful mood strikes. It doesn’t block pornographic websites (you have to pay for an “add-on” feature for that)—the software instead tracks browser history and sends a report to an “accountability partner” of your choosing. For Johnson, that person was his son. And for his son, his accountability partner was his dad.
The subsequent headlines about the interview make the story sound outré and salacious: “The House speaker admitted to a wild new detail about his personal life,” one read. But in the world Johnson occupies—conservative evangelical Christianity, and its particular dictums about men and masculinity—porn accountability software is commonplace, not something to be ashamed of but rather a ubiquitous technology to live by. I’ve written previously about how and why so-called pornography addiction is considered normal among evangelical men (and the sometimes tragic consequences of this framing). The revelation that Johnson and his son used Covenant Eyes should not be surprising—but it is telling, not only about the man but the kind of leader he aims to be.
Johnson believes pornography is inherently bad for you, but this has bigger implications than you might think. For my book The Pornography Wars, I interviewed dozens of Christians and others who, like Johnson and his son, wanted to avoid watching porn. Many were Covenant Eyes subscribers. Some opted for different brands, like X3 Watch, a software program offered by XXXChurch. They participated in face-to-face support groups and online message boards. They bought apps and books, watched documentaries, and went to conferences dedicated to the cause of “sexual integrity.”
This is the industry of pornography addiction recovery—products and resources (which are often but not always explicitly Christian) that frame internet porn use as a dangerous affliction affecting mostly men, who need urgent support to overcome it. It’s a booming market that relies on the problem it claims to solve: Covenant Eyes, for example, has been named one of the fastest-growing private companies in the U.S. by Inc. magazine. As of 2020, it employed more than 200 people at a sprawling 40,000-square-foot complex in Owosso, Michigan. The company has reported annual earnings of more than $26 million.
Accountability partners are a core part of almost every porn addiction recovery program. Like a common adage in Alcoholics Anonymous—“We are only as sick as our secrets”—the idea is that porn consumption in the internet age thrives in part because people can do it without others knowing. Avoiding porn becomes easier if somebody else—say, your dad—will find out exactly what websites or videos you have clicked on.
Most of the time, the self-identified porn addicts I interviewed chose peers for accountability partners, those who were similar in age or slightly older and had also struggled with porn addiction, kind of like an AA sponsor. But Johnson’s story is not the first time I heard of a father/son accountability pairing. I interviewed a 22-year-old named Anthony who subscribed to Covenant Eyes and sent weekly reports to his dad. I also interviewed Brad, slightly older than Anthony, who became a Covenant Eyes subscriber after he was caught looking at porn where he worked, which happened to be a nondenominational church. Instead of getting fired, he had to install Covenant Eyes on his computer for reports to be sent to his boss, the head pastor.
All of the stories I heard about accountability and pornography addiction recovery focused on change at the level of individual habits. Indeed, this is the crux of the Covenant Eyes motto: “Quit porn, win at life.” It may seem innocuous enough, perhaps not so different than the meditation or fitness apps that I, and countless others, use to encourage healthy choices. But Covenant Eyes, like Johnson himself, is also involved in efforts to change the structure of society through laws and policies. Covenant’s CEO, Ron DeHaas, is chairman of the board of directors for the National Center on Sexual Exploitation (or NCOSE), an organization that sees pornography as one of many interconnected threats to a thriving society and to men in particular. NCOSE’s mission is to crack down on the sex industry in its entirety.
The conservative agendas of NCOSE and Johnson revolve around what sociologist Samuel Perry has called “sexual exceptionalism,” the evangelical belief that matters having to do with sexuality are of utmost importance when it comes to both individual salvation and to the country’s political order. Johnson himself has prioritized restricting abortion rights and laws on LGBTQ+ equality because, like pornography, these go against his beliefs that heterosexual marriage is the only proper place for sex and that sex is intended for reproduction.
Leaders like Johnson believe that not only religion but science is on their side. Covenant Eyes makes no attempt to hide the fact that it is a Christian company, but at the same time—like all other porn addiction recovery resources—its messaging focuses on human biology. It uses a brain-shaped stress ball as part of its company swag. At the core of these beliefs are specific ideas about gender.
Indeed, one of the most prevalent scientific claims in porn addiction recovery circles is that pornography is a “man’s problem.” This is true enough empirically—men look at it more frequently than women and are also more likely to perceive themselves as addicted. But the logic of this gender distinction runs deeper than social patterns. Throughout my research, I heard over and over that men’s brains were “wired” so they were biologically preconditioned to want to look at porn. It’s no coincidence that Johnson did not describe his daughters as accountability partners or Covenant Eyes users. Though most programs acknowledge that women, too, struggle with porn use (Covenant Eyes has a drop-down menu for users to choose if they are overcoming porn “as a man” or “as a woman”), they describe their experiences as atypical and unique from men’s.
The quasi-scientific language embedded within porn addiction rhetoric upholds an understanding of human biology with clear and immutable distinctions between men and women, male and female. It’s not a stretch to jump from porn addiction discourse about men’s innate sexuality to far-reaching legislation that uses scientific claims to, say, prohibit transgender minors from receiving health care. Johnson and many of his colleagues’ policy positions reflect a deep-seated belief about the nature of our bodies as both science and God has created them.
You can see this playing out in other real-world ways: NCOSE successfully urged lawmakers in 16 states, including Johnson’s home state of Louisiana, to pass resolutions declaring pornography to be a public health crisis because of its purported addictive potential. This is despite the fact that clinical and scientific communities have not come to a consensus about how to categorize and diagnose people who use porn to excess. (Pornography addiction is not a diagnosable condition in either the DSM or ICD.) Age-verification porn laws, currently running into constitutional troubles in the court, are also part of this effort.
For Johnson and men like him, this all goes to the core of their identity as evangelical Christian men. When they talk openly about Covenant Eyes, they are acknowledging the fact that, on some level, they want to look at porn. This allows them to conform to broader stereotypes about men and masculinity—they ain’t sissies—while also upholding a religious faith that sees porn as uniquely harmful. If they do succumb to looking at porn, it’s because of biological factors beyond their control, those pesky male brains. When they don’t, they are strong, fit, in control.
Only the men who are the strongest and most dedicated to God can win what one blogger on Covenant Eyes’ website calls “a nuclear war on porn.” And this metaphor of a battle fought and won is used to describe not only pornography, but the struggle for America itself. Johnson and his supporters believe only the most committed of Christian men can lead the nation. As he told one conservative news outlet, quoting John Adams, “Our Constitution is made only for a moral and religious people.” The recirculated 2022 interview invited snickers last weekend, but it’s actually part of a mission statement we will undoubtedly see play out during Johnson’s speakership.
