When we don’t feel at home in daily life, when life tasks are alienating, how do we cope? Stanley Cohen and Laurie Taylor, radical academics writing in the Seventies, trace and delineate various “escape routes” ordinary people take to feel unique and authentic in light of unfulfilling life-tasks.

They started writing this book after studying prisoners. Life in prison entails monotonous, imposed activity. Prisoners lack the ability to express themselves or ford their own path through life. They feel totally alien from what they do and where they are, and so create an alternative reality where they could stake out a unique identity. In other words, they view most of their experience in prison, which is identical with other prisoners, as their fake self, in contrast to a constructed “real self.” This allows them to get through their days with some level of self-esteem and dignity.

As with prisoners, we on the outside are subject to ongoing life-tasks that more or less feel authentic: careers, romantic relationships, etc. Sometimes we feel at home in them but often we do not. When we don’t feel in control, we use identity formation to construct our distance from it. We think, “I unfortunately have to do this, but it isn’t the REAL me.” We use irony, sarcasm, and cynicism to maintain this distance.

We create fantasies where we excel at areas we lack in or to aid in our identity-formation. Instead of IT worker and layabout, one is an anarchist, inheritor of humanity’s most beautiful idea and all the courageous acts others have taken in its name. We use these fantasies in many areas: at work, in bed, among family, etc.

Talking about fantasies is considered taboo and embarrassing. It’s seen as too personal. Also, our culture inherits a Catholic dictum to banish bad thoughts, which fantasies fall under. But can fantasies be helpful? Some psychiatrists urge people to view them as steppingstones to action and self-understanding. If they are of obtainable goals, fantasies can maybe help and motivate us.

Nietzsche held a different view of fantasies. He argued that revenge fantasies especially are the mark of ressentiment. Basically, when someone has been defeated or feels weak, they cultivate a sense of blame for those they see as victorious and powerful. Their interior world becomes filled with angry revenge fantasies with them as “good” and the powerful as “bad”. Because they cannot or do not change their own condition, they retreat into this world of fantasies.

At the time this book was written, the culture was preoccupied with finding a true self underneath psychological repression, imposed roles, and alienation. But even if one could find a “true self,” this would not help us navigate alienating life-tasks. The more we feel separate from our activity, the more self-conscious we become, since we are always aware of a self, separate from that activity. We find it harder to lose ourselves, to get out of our heads. We become more neurotic.

At first glance, this fantasy and identity work is obviously conservative. It is a toolset used to cope rather than challenge one’s condition. Rather than abandon roles one feels alien in, one is given a consolation prize by feeling superior to the tasks one is subject to. These tools better enable people to contribute to their own exploitation and alienation by giving them methods for coping with it. While I don’t know if this is even possible, I think things would be better if we lacked these tools. Then, maybe our frustrations would boil over into revolt and refusal.

Identity work also complicates camaraderie. If your co-workers are mildly alienated by the job, but you are very alienated, your irony, detachment, and cynicism can prevent you from identifying with them. They will appear as obedience squares while you will see yourself as superiorly conscious radical. You will appear to them as a smug asshole. Or so I’ve heard.

Cohen and Taylor seem to disagree with most of my critique. They think well of people using these tools to deal with life, arguing it’s a sign of everyday resistance and therefore noble. Similarly, culture theorist John Fiske argues that fantasies can contribute to positive social change by giving us courage to challenge micro-level oppression in our lives. At minimum, they can facilitate a consciousness that lays dormant until a social movement comes along. Though the fantasy-haver may not lead the movements, the fantasies may maintain a consciousness that enables them to support the actions.

That said, Fiske was primarily referring to fantasies generated from pop culture. His most compelling example is a study showing that women who read romance novels tended to stick up for themselves to men in their own lives. In this case, the fantasy accompanies a feeling that something is possible since the reader relates to the romance novel characters. Their lives look somewhat similar, so they can feel moved by what the character goes through and use that inspiration for taking action on their own. I don’t think this relates to most fantasies people have in daily life.

Taylor and Cohen elaborate on some other escape routes such as chasing novel experiences, drugs, counterculture, and hobbies. Most of them are concerned with facilitating a sense of uniqueness.

This book elaborates an interesting idea for why we seek identity. When we don’t feel at home in an activity we are consigned to, we carve out space where can. It can’t come from the activity itself, so we create a sense of identity. Alienation leads to identity, which leads to self-consciousness. As someone who feels repulsed to the kind of work I do, and even the concept of work itself, this logic really resonated with me.

Despite interesting ideas and some references to the Situationists, this book was a drag to read. It was poorly written, and the 1992 introduction muddles things with post-modern semiotics. ( )

The only book that I first read for my degree course that I still own and still read, even to this day. ( )