indicate that intimate spaces were not necessarily interpreted as opportunities for intimacy in the
emotional
or
sexual
sense. In fact, joint occupation of intimate space
guarantees
little in the way of emotional intimacy. Psychologist Howard Gadlin has written that even where physical intimacy was imposed byliving conditions, “the closest of relationships was formal to a degree we would find not only awkward but contradictory to intimacy.” In male–female relationships, this formality reflected, among other things, “a fundamentalist Christian distrust of uncontrolled earthly pleasures and human passion.” 18
Still, domestic privacy encouraged the removal of protective armor and this, more than physical intimacy, encouraged honest personal expression. Free of external constraints, occupants were able to open themselves up to new ways of thinking and behaving. The old checks and balances were no longer needed. Broader and deeper forms of emotional access were literally on the doorstep.
Of course, dropping one’s guard makes one vulnerable. In privacy, lovers “lay bare their innermost feeling to each other,” wrote philosopher and legal scholar Edward Bloustein; “they are lewd and foolish with each other, they stand naked before each other … nothing is held back.” But, he went on, all this is shared on the premise that it will be shared with no one else. 19
The “no one else” clause is of course what makes eavesdropping so irresistible, for the practitioners of this interceptive art are not party to any understandings between the intimate principals, nor are they bound by the agreements of others regarding the disposition of any verbal or visual images that may surreptitiously come their way. Free of any such constraints, eavesdroppers are all too glad to share in the intimate experiences of others, and to share the images, as best they can represent them, with others.
As new resources, second-degree privacy and intimacy posed challenging adjustment problems. In their ecological niches, humans would have to learn how to manage intimate experience, the role of reciprocity, the need for trust, and the necessity of keeping close to the vest any acts that had occurred in private, and especially those that took place in secret.
Any progress that has been made on these issues has been decidedly nonlinear. Many behaviors that were previously shielded are now displayed openly, and historically public behaviors are nowkept under wraps. Anita Allen has pointed out that battles over what should or should not be private, and what should or should not be public, are intensifying, with almost daily shifts in the boundaries. 20
From the first days of domestication, there were undoubtedly significant differences between the sexes on both sides of the walls. On the inside, allowing oneself to be witnessed in a moment of “weakness” is something that might well have been avoided by anyone—especially men—who cherished their independence and autonomy. In social milieux, to regard with indifference the intimacies of others might have seemed unnatural to individuals—especially women—with a need for deeper levels of connectivity in their own lives. 21
In time, insiders would have to learn how to deal with privacy and other new resources. One lesson is that the images flowing from intimate activity can be less important than their mode of transmission. If donated, personal material may or may not be interesting. But if it is stolen, the same material—insofar as it can be considered the same—can be exciting, breathtaking, even erotic. In the late nineteenth century, English sexologist Have-lock Ellis related a story about a Parisian model who had posed in the nude at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, surrounded by aspiring young artists. Suddenly, without notice, the model screamed in terror and ran off to retrieve her clothes. What sent her running was the sight of a workman on the roof, peering through a
emotional
or
sexual
sense. In fact, joint occupation of intimate space
guarantees
little in the way of emotional intimacy. Psychologist Howard Gadlin has written that even where physical intimacy was imposed byliving conditions, “the closest of relationships was formal to a degree we would find not only awkward but contradictory to intimacy.” In male–female relationships, this formality reflected, among other things, “a fundamentalist Christian distrust of uncontrolled earthly pleasures and human passion.” 18
Still, domestic privacy encouraged the removal of protective armor and this, more than physical intimacy, encouraged honest personal expression. Free of external constraints, occupants were able to open themselves up to new ways of thinking and behaving. The old checks and balances were no longer needed. Broader and deeper forms of emotional access were literally on the doorstep.
Of course, dropping one’s guard makes one vulnerable. In privacy, lovers “lay bare their innermost feeling to each other,” wrote philosopher and legal scholar Edward Bloustein; “they are lewd and foolish with each other, they stand naked before each other … nothing is held back.” But, he went on, all this is shared on the premise that it will be shared with no one else. 19
The “no one else” clause is of course what makes eavesdropping so irresistible, for the practitioners of this interceptive art are not party to any understandings between the intimate principals, nor are they bound by the agreements of others regarding the disposition of any verbal or visual images that may surreptitiously come their way. Free of any such constraints, eavesdroppers are all too glad to share in the intimate experiences of others, and to share the images, as best they can represent them, with others.
As new resources, second-degree privacy and intimacy posed challenging adjustment problems. In their ecological niches, humans would have to learn how to manage intimate experience, the role of reciprocity, the need for trust, and the necessity of keeping close to the vest any acts that had occurred in private, and especially those that took place in secret.
Any progress that has been made on these issues has been decidedly nonlinear. Many behaviors that were previously shielded are now displayed openly, and historically public behaviors are nowkept under wraps. Anita Allen has pointed out that battles over what should or should not be private, and what should or should not be public, are intensifying, with almost daily shifts in the boundaries. 20
From the first days of domestication, there were undoubtedly significant differences between the sexes on both sides of the walls. On the inside, allowing oneself to be witnessed in a moment of “weakness” is something that might well have been avoided by anyone—especially men—who cherished their independence and autonomy. In social milieux, to regard with indifference the intimacies of others might have seemed unnatural to individuals—especially women—with a need for deeper levels of connectivity in their own lives. 21
In time, insiders would have to learn how to deal with privacy and other new resources. One lesson is that the images flowing from intimate activity can be less important than their mode of transmission. If donated, personal material may or may not be interesting. But if it is stolen, the same material—insofar as it can be considered the same—can be exciting, breathtaking, even erotic. In the late nineteenth century, English sexologist Have-lock Ellis related a story about a Parisian model who had posed in the nude at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, surrounded by aspiring young artists. Suddenly, without notice, the model screamed in terror and ran off to retrieve her clothes. What sent her running was the sight of a workman on the roof, peering through a
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