When I arrived in the United States in 1970, I perceived an abundance of signs of quotidian freedom around me: carelessly dressed people yawning without restraint on subway platforms, women with curlers in their hair unabashedly shopping in crowded department stores, youngsters devouring oversized and dripping sandwiches in elevators… “Nobody cares what you do!” I exclaimed enthusiastically all the next summer, while vacationing with friends on the Adriatic coast. And, indeed, nobody does. The principle of laissez faire is taken seriously. It is not that people are free, however, but merely indifferent toward their mute surroundings, as long as their bosses, boyfriends, and colleagues are not around to be cajoled, cheated, or flirted with in earnest and without restraint. Matter-of-factness dominates in the sphere of exchange, regardless of whether goods, services, ideas, or sexual favors are passing hands. Social distance is not reduced; rather, it has vanished without trace, together with personal bonds and their idiosyncrasies. As Adorno writes, “estrangement shows itself precisely in the elimination of distance between people.”[1] There is no escape from the crowd, though. Every attempt to impose some distance and tact is, paradoxically, universally perceived as the opposite of freedom, as your inability to cope with your own feelings and with those of others—your partners in the otherwise free exchange of everything under the sun.

Footnote

1. Adorno, T.W., Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life, London: NLB, 1974 (first published in 1951), p. 41.