The
weekend, around my house, is often devoted to scripture reading – the scripture
being Adorno’s minima moralia. Here’s a lively bit that I’ve translated and
distorted just a pinch, which casts a lot of light on our era – you know, the
Age of Bush and Trump.
Fish in the water – Since the global distribution machinery
of highly concentrated industry has dissolved the sphere of circulation, the
later has begun a marvelous post-existence. While the profession of the
go-between has lost its economic basis, uncounted private lives have taken on
the guise of agents and dealers, even one might say that the whole private
domain is confounded with this enigmatic busy-ness, which bears all the
features of commerce without really having an object to deal in. Across the
spectrum of anxious people, from the unemployed, to the most prominent, subject
at every second to the anger of those whose investments he represents, the belief is that empathy, industry,
servicability, through clever turns and dodges
through businessman’s qualities, can one take on the air of the
imaginary executive, and soon there is not a relationship that isn’t seen as a
connection, no impulse that is not submitted to the mental censor for being
perhaps too deviant. The concept of connections, a category of intermediation
and circulation, was never best exhibited in the actual circulation sphere, in
the market, but instead in closed, monopolistic hierarchies. Now that society
is wholly penetrated by hierarchy, the dark connections stand everywhere that
we still see a semblence of freedom. The irrationality of the system expresses
itself never more greatly than in the economic fate of individuals where this
psychology of parasitism comes out. In early periods, when there really was
something we could call a bourgeois division between the career and private
life, the passing of which one must almost mourn, the unmannerly ambitious man was
mistrusted for following his goals in the private sphere. Today, in contrast,
the person who subsides entirely into the private sphere seems to be arrogant,
alien, and not with the program, since the person’s goals are not visible. It is almost suspicious not to ‘will’
something: one doesn’t trust anyone of this type -, who lives without legitimating himself with some counter
demands of his own – to help us in snapping after the miserable treats we are offered. Numbers of people make
their jobs out of the circumstances that kick people out of their jobs. These
are the nicest people, the bien pensants, that are friends with everyone, the
righteous, that forgive every human meanness and with implacable hostility
label every not normalized impulse
sentimenta. They are indispensable in their knowledge of all the strings and
shortcuts of power, guess the secret judgments of the might and live off of
their talent for nimbly communicating it. The are found in all political
situations, eveen there, where rejection of the system reigns as self-evident
and thus diffuse a lax and resigned conformism of their own type. Often they captivate with a certain cheerfulness, through
an empathetic participation in the life of others: a speculating selflessness.
They are clever, witty, sensible and adaptive: they have polished up the old
salesman’s spirit with the latest in psychology. They are capable of anything,
even love, yet never faithful. They don’t
betray out of some compulsion, but out of principle: they value even themseves as
profitmakers, which they cannot share with others. In their minds they combine
elective affinity and hatred: they are a temptation for the thoughtful, but
also their worst enemy. Then these are the ones who take the last little
corners of resistence, the hours painfull reserved from the demands of the
machine, and they cunningly shit on it. Their late ripened individualism
poisoned whatever is left of the individual.
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