Tolstoy once wrote:

“There can be no tyrant where there are no slaves.”

Every external structure of domination—bureaucracy, corporate monopolies, surveillance—derives its true power not from brute force, but from our internal acceptance of it. The strongest prison is not made of bars or walls, but of habits, fears, and beliefs we carry in our own minds.

This is the prison within. And in America, its walls are decorated with credit card ads, Netflix recommendations, and red-blue political slogans.

Fear is the oldest lock on human freedom.

• Fear of violence: losing your job, being excluded, punished for dissent.

• Fear of uncertainty: even if life is miserable, change seems riskier. Better the devil you know.

In the U.S., fear often wears economic clothes:

• People stay in jobs they hate because losing employer-based healthcare feels scarier than losing their dignity.

• Student debt chains young people to a treadmill where every step is already mortgaged.

Domination sustains itself by teaching people to identify with the system that harms them.

• Identification with the oppressor: The “American Dream™” tells everyone they’re just a temporarily embarrassed millionaire. So people defend billionaires as if they were family.

• Identification with mediocrity: “That’s just life,” “Why think too hard?” Resignation is marketed as wisdom.

As Antonio Gramsci argued:

“The most effective power is the one that secures consent, not coercion.”

Jeff Bezos doesn’t need to fear the revolution—half the warehouse workers are still dreaming of being him.

• The meritocracy myth: Work hard enough and you’ll make it. A handful of winners are paraded as proof, while the majority compete endlessly without questioning the rules.

• Consumer freedom as substitute for political freedom: You can choose from 200 kinds of toothpaste at Walmart, but not whether healthcare should be a public good.

As Theodor Adorno noted about the culture industry:

“Entertainment is the prolongation of work under late capitalism.”

Or in today’s language: You can binge-watch ten dystopian shows on Netflix, but questioning why reality feels like one is not on the menu.

• “Thinking won’t change anything.” This resignation is a coping mechanism, but also a surrender.

• Habitual obedience becomes mental autopilot—cheaper than critical thought.

In the U.S., this often takes the form of red-blue theater:

• People know the two-party system is a cage, yet they keep arguing which color the bars should be painted.

As Hannah Arendt warned:

“The greatest evil is not radical, but it can spread with extraordinary speed when people refuse to think.”

1. Recognize → Notice the moment you tell yourself “That’s just how things are.”

2. Question → Ask: Who benefits from this rule? Why can’t it be otherwise?

3. Connect → Isolation breeds fear; solidarity breeds courage. Find others who also hear the rattle of chains.

4. Practice → Small acts of refusal: rejecting absurd demands, voicing dissent, resisting consumerist noise.

As Gandhi reminded us:

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

Freedom is not a gift handed down; it is a practice lived upward.

The absurdity is this: we are the jailers of our own prison. We put the chains on, and we keep tightening them.

And that’s why 🤡 fits so well here—it is both mockery and awakening. Mockery of the system that thrives on our compliance, and awakening to the ridiculousness of our complicity.

True freedom is never a final destination. It is the ongoing courage to say, as Camus put it:

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

Tolstoy once wrote:

“There can be no tyrant where there are no slaves.”

Every external structure of domination—bureaucracy, corporate monopolies, surveillance—derives its true power not from brute force, but from our internal acceptance of it. The strongest prison is not made of bars or walls, but of habits, fears, and beliefs we carry in our own minds.

This is the prison within. And in America, its walls are decorated with credit card ads, Netflix recommendations, and red-blue political slogans.

Fear is the oldest lock on human freedom.

• Fear of violence: losing your job, being excluded, punished for dissent.

• Fear of uncertainty: even if life is miserable, change seems riskier. Better the devil you know.

In the U.S., fear often wears economic clothes:

• People stay in jobs they hate because losing employer-based healthcare feels scarier than losing their dignity.

• Student debt chains young people to a treadmill where every step is already mortgaged.

Domination sustains itself by teaching people to identify with the system that harms them.

• Identification with the oppressor: The “American Dream™” tells everyone they’re just a temporarily embarrassed millionaire. So people defend billionaires as if they were family.

• Identification with mediocrity: “That’s just life,” “Why think too hard?” Resignation is marketed as wisdom.

As Antonio Gramsci argued:

“The most effective power is the one that secures consent, not coercion.”

Jeff Bezos doesn’t need to fear the revolution—half the warehouse workers are still dreaming of being him.

• The meritocracy myth: Work hard enough and you’ll make it. A handful of winners are paraded as proof, while the majority compete endlessly without questioning the rules.

• Consumer freedom as substitute for political freedom: You can choose from 200 kinds of toothpaste at Walmart, but not whether healthcare should be a public good.

As Theodor Adorno noted about the culture industry:

“Entertainment is the prolongation of work under late capitalism.”

Or in today’s language: You can binge-watch ten dystopian shows on Netflix, but questioning why reality feels like one is not on the menu.

• “Thinking won’t change anything.” This resignation is a coping mechanism, but also a surrender.

• Habitual obedience becomes mental autopilot—cheaper than critical thought.

In the U.S., this often takes the form of red-blue theater:

• People know the two-party system is a cage, yet they keep arguing which color the bars should be painted.

As Hannah Arendt warned:

“The greatest evil is not radical, but it can spread with extraordinary speed when people refuse to think.”

1. Recognize → Notice the moment you tell yourself “That’s just how things are.”

2. Question → Ask: Who benefits from this rule? Why can’t it be otherwise?

3. Connect → Isolation breeds fear; solidarity breeds courage. Find others who also hear the rattle of chains.

4. Practice → Small acts of refusal: rejecting absurd demands, voicing dissent, resisting consumerist noise.

As Gandhi reminded us:

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

Freedom is not a gift handed down; it is a practice lived upward.

The absurdity is this: we are the jailers of our own prison. We put the chains on, and we keep tightening them.

And that’s why 🤡 fits so well here—it is both mockery and awakening. Mockery of the system that thrives on our compliance, and awakening to the ridiculousness of our complicity.

True freedom is never a final destination. It is the ongoing courage to say, as Camus put it:

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”