No emancipation without that of society.
Words of the jargon sound as if they said something higher than what they mean.
There are no more ideologies in the authentic sense of false consciousness, only advertisements for the world through its duplication and the provocative lie which does not seek belief but commands silence.
The good man is he who rules himself as he does his own property: his autonomous being is modelled on material power.
Everything that has ever been called folk art has always reflected domination.
Vague expression permits the hearer to imagine whatever suits him and what he already thinks in any case.
In the abstract conception of universal wrong, all concrete responsibility vanishes.
In so far as the culture industry arouses a feeling of well-being that the world is precisely in that order suggested by the culture industry, the substitute gratification which it prepares for human beings cheats them out of the same happiness which it deceitfully projects.
The power of works of art still continues to be secretly nourished by imitation... kitsch
The triumph of advertising in the culture industry is that consumers feel compelled to buy and use its products even though they see through them.
Art respects the masses, by standing up to them for what they could be, rather than conforming to them in their degraded state.
The forms of art reflect the history of man more truthfully than do documents themselves.
Thought as such" is an act of negation, of resistance to that which is forced upon it; this is what thought has inherited from its archetype, the relation between labor and material. Today, when ideologues tend more than ever to encourage thought to be positive, they cleverly note that positivity runs precisely counter to thought, and that it takes friendly persuasion by social authority to accustom thought to positivity.
Those who cannot help ought also not advise: in an order where every mousehole has been plugged, mere advice exactly equals condemnation.
Freud made the discovery- quite genuinely, simply through working on his own material- that the more deeply one explores the phenomena of human individuation, the more unreservedly one grasps the individual as a self-contained and dynamic entity, the closer one draws to that in the individual which is really no longer individual.
Love is the power to see similarity in the dissimilar.
There can be no poetry after Auschwitz.
Suffering has as much right to be expressed as a martyr has to cry out. So it may have been false to say that writing poetry after Auschwitz is impossible.
Philosophy ... must not bargain away anything of the emphatic concept of truth.
The invocation of science, of its ground rules, of the exclusive validity of the methods that science has now completely become, now constitutes a surveillance authority punishing free, uncoddled, undisciplined thought and tolerating nothing of mental activity other than what has been methodologically sanctioned. Science and scholarship, the medium of autonomy, has degenerated into an instrument of heteronomy.
Bourgeois society is ruled by equivalence. It makes the dissimilar comparable by reducing it to abstract quantities. To the enlightenment, that which does not reduce to numbers, and ultimately to the one, becomes illusion.
The hardest hit, as everywhere, are those who have no choice.
Death is imposed only on creatures, not their creations, and has therefore always appeared in art in a broken form: as allegory.
There is something embarrassing in... the way in which, ... turning suffering into images, harsh and uncompromising though they are, ... wounds the shame we feel in the presence of the victims. For these victims are used to create something, works of art, that are thrown to the consumption of a world which destroyed them.
There is no love that is not an echo.
Auschwitz begins wherever someone looks at a slaughterhouse and thinks: they're only animals.
Knowledge, which is power, knows no limits, either in its enslavement of creation or in its deference to worldly masters.
The film has succeeded in transforming subjects so indistinguishably into social functions, that those wholly encompassed, no longer aware of any conflict, enjoy their own dehumanization as something human, as the joy of warmth. The total interconnectedness of the culture industry, omitting nothing, is one with total social delusion.
Once the last trace of emotion has been eradicated, nothing remains of thought but absolute tautology.
A pencil and rubber are of more use to thought than a battalion of assistants. To happiness the same applies as to truth: one does not have it, but is in it.
The law of the innermost form of the essay is heresy
As naturally as the ruled always took the morality imposed upon them more seriously than did the rulers themselves, the deceived masses are today captivated by the myth of success even more than the successful are. Immovably, they insist on the very ideology which enslaves them. The misplaced love of the common people for the wrong which is done to them is a greater force than the cunning of the authorities.
On their way toward modern science human beings have discarded meaning. The concept is replaced by the formula, the cause by rules and probability.
People at the top are closing ranks so tightly that all possibility of subjective deviation has gone, and difference can be sought only in the more distinguished cut of an evening dress.
Tact is the discrimination of differences. It consists in conscious deviations.
The power of the culture industry's ideology is such that conformity has replaced consciousness
The most powerful person is he who is able to do least himself and burden others most with the things for which he lends his name and pockets the credit.
Art is permitted to survive only if it renounces the right to be different, and integrates itself into the omnipotent realm of the profane.
Rampant technolgy eliminates luxury, but not by declaring privilege a human right; rather, it does so by both raising the general standard of living and cutting off the possibility of fulfilment.
But he who dies in despair has lived his whole life in vain.