Why Strangers and why Intimates
My book Strangers and Intimates: The Rise and Fall of Private Life is now published in the UK, and I am delighted to share that it has already received amazing reviews, which I link to below, along with several interviews and podcasts. For now, I want to explain the title: why "Strangers" and why "Intimates."
Early on in my research, I came across an instruction from a 17th-century conduct book that struck me as important. The author, Richard Brathwait, warned that being solitary was a dangerous state, something to be avoided and feared: "Task yourself then privately, lest privacy become your enemy."
He advised, "Be you in your chambers or private closet, be you retired from the eyes of men, think how the eyes of God are on you. Do not say, the walls encompass me, darkness o'ershadows me, the curtain of night secures me… do nothing privately which you would not do publicly."
This deeply religious society believed that there should be no difference between private and public conduct. Privacy was seen as dangerous—even to be feared: the devil might call upon you when you were on your own. Whether one was rich or poor, living in a grand castle or a humble shack, the boundaries between the two spheres were minimal. Rich or poor, powerful or powerless, you were to behave the same in private as in public.
What interests me is how this perception shifted over time, how the boundaries between strangers and intimates developed, and how the private sphere came to be valued as a distinct space and a special one.
One key driver was a crystallising sense of separations that emerged in the 18th century after the religious wars in Europe and the acceptance of toleration. Toleration represented the revolutionary principle that different religious beliefs could coexist within the same society, creating the necessity for private spaces where individuals could practice their faith without public scrutiny or persecution.
Europe and especially England saw the birth of the public sphere, consisting of coffee houses, newspapers, the embryonic political system, and social activities—public gardens, balls, assembly rooms, all full of smoke, lively chatter and debate.
Whether having moved to the city or being involved in developing capitalism as a trader or a member of the rising middle classes, people encountered more strangers than ever before. It is here that the handshake developed, initially as a way of sealing a deal, before spreading across society and replacing the more formal bowing and curtseying. Magazines like the Spectator discussed the new concept of politeness, from French for polish (polir), exploring how to behave in public and present a public face. They thought about how to act amongst strangers.
At the same time, within the home, a revolution in building design was hammering out private spaces. Rooms became smaller and more specialized, each acquiring a distinct function. Curtains were drawn, cushions were plumped, and the home began to embody a new sense of intimacy and separation. Servants, once a constant presence at the foot of their masters' beds or in common rooms, were relegated to annexes or attic spaces. One of the most transformative innovations was the introduction of backstairs. These cleverly designed routes allowed staff to move about the house without encountering the household members. The architectural historian Mark Girouard paints a vivid picture of this shift, noting indelicately that "the gentry walking up the stairs no longer met their last night's faeces coming down to them."
The novel imprinted the qualities of private life in the public imagination. Before this moment, the main form of public entertainment in English culture was the theatre. But the novel was a uniquely interior cultural form that allowed the reader to spend time inside other people's heads. And, unlike the stage, a book could be read in the privacy of one's home. While people still communally read out loud, especially in the coffeehouses, the spread of literacy meant it was increasingly possible to read alone and in silence. Books like Samuel Richardson's Pamela: or Virtue Rewarded, published in 1740, grappled with emotions and the interior world. Readers simply hadn't read anything like it before. The French philosopher Denis Diderot rhapsodised that, as he read it, he "heard the genuine language of the passions." Richardson, he sighed, "brings the torch into the depths of the cave."
There was a distinct sense that developed of the different categories of public and private, for the first time, and a recognition that interactions with strangers required a particular way of being, different from that with intimates.
Today, we treat strangers like intimates and intimates like strangers.
Today, the separation between the two spheres has dissolved. We treat strangers like intimates and intimates like strangers. Intimacy infuses the public sphere. The awkwardness of social kissing has replaced the handshake, and politicians ask us to call them ‘Tony’ or the equivalent moniker. Politics is intensely personal. Biographies of great men and women are dominated by their private lives, which are usually portrayed as toxic, and the private antics of the artist determines our position on their inclusion in the canon.
Whether through surveillance, remote work, Zoom, social media posts, or the politicisation and exposure of private matters, the private realm has lost its secluded, intimate quality. In 2009, reflecting on the contemporary outlook, Google CEO Eric Schmidt echoed a sentiment reminiscent of Richard Brathwait: "If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place," he remarked during a TV interview.
The market has entered the private realm in the form of child-rearing professionals as we also pay professionals (therapists, coaches, etc.) for emotional support rather than close relations. People conduct their private affairs over dating apps, as if they are shopping. Consent classes are rife across US campus life, inviting formality and a chaperone into the intimate life of the young. In Scotland, the Named Person scheme attempted to replace the parent. That the policy failed is a testament to the desire of people to keep the state out of intimate relations. That it was attempted is a sign that professionals are considered more suitable to raise a child than a mother and father.
We are confused over who is a stranger and who is an intimate, and how to treat either. To understand how this happened, to learn what tore down the border between the public and private world, and why it matters, read Strangers and Intimates: The Rise and Fall of Private Life.
Media and Reviews
History: private, personal and political. Tom Sutcliffe talks to Tiffany Jenkins, Geoff Dyer and Lanre Bakare. Listen again here.
What's the difference between private and public life – and where should we draw the line between the two? Over the centuries, these boundaries have often been blurred, as Tiffany Jenkins explores in her book Strangers and Intimates. In this episode, she speaks to Lauren Good about everything from the rigid separation of public and personal spheres in ancient Athens, to the privacy-busting spectacle of Big Brother. Listen again here.
NEWSPAPER REVIEWS
‘Always well written, always interesting and always provocative’. How our personal affairs became public, ― the Observer
‘Privacy must be defended – this timely book proves it’. From the Reformation to the royals to the 2021 Hate Crime Act, Tiffany Jenkins’s history of private life is more urgent than ever ―the Telegraph
‘A highly engaging read, timely, and impressively broad in its scope’. ― Literary Review
The rise and fall of private life, from ‘Bum Courts’ to Facebook, the Times