LinkedIn has long been a useful platform – especially for targeted networking. Sure, it’s always been a bit of a buzzword factory. Everyone’s perpetually “excited,” “humbled,” or both. And of course, always “proud.” I can live with that. I’ve probably even participated in the ritual of professional self-referencing now and then.
But lately, my feed has taken a darker turn. Dissatisfaction, self-righteousness, outrage – and, most troubling of all, a bizarre contempt for the very idea of freedom. A contempt so loud and pervasive, it’s impossible to ignore.
“Then just leave LinkedIn!”
“Come on… you know how the algorithm works!”
Maybe. But “closing your eyes” has never been a particularly good plan.
That’s the thing. It’s not really about LinkedIn. And it’s not just about politics either. What we’re witnessing is bigger than that – and stranger. A cultural shift where discontent, entitlement, and hyper-individualism merge into a kind of self-righteous rejection of the very freedoms that enable such expression in the first place.
What we’re dealing with is a mood. A mindset. A movement that defines itself less by what it wants to build, and more by what it wants to dismantle. A refusal to participate in a shared reality, paired with an expectation that one’s personal truth should reign supreme.
That’s not resistance. That’s narcissism.
But freedom only lasts if we care enough to uphold it – not through obedience, but through responsibility. Through a shared effort to protect what none of us can secure alone.
Paradoxically, this idea is most fragile where it’s most fulfilled. In open societies, freedom begins to fade into the background. What once felt hard-won starts to feel ordinary. And that’s when the danger sets in. People begin to turn against the very systems that secure their liberty – drawn instead to ideologies that offer clarity, certainty, and control. Even if it means giving up the freedoms they barely even noticed.
Authoritarian ideologies rarely begin with brute force. They begin with comfort. With simplicity. With promises: we’ll protect you. We’ll tell you who you are. We’ll give you the truth – and silence those who question it.
You see it across history. In politics. In culture. Algorithmic platforms promise curated certainty. Movements promise belonging. Complexity is reduced to slogans. Doubt becomes betrayal. And into that vacuum steps a myth.
The myth of hyperindividualism
We’re told freedom means doing whatever we want, whenever we want. Your life, your rules.
But when everyone lives in their own algorithmic bubble – when facts are negotiable and civic duty a punchline – freedom erodes from within.
That isn’t freedom. It’s isolation, disguised as empowerment.
Real freedom is never just about the self. It exists in relationships – to others, to the truth, to the systems we build together. It requires limits, but not as punishment — as structure. A space where rights are balanced with responsibilities. Where disagreement doesn’t destroy dialogue. Where we can coexist without coercion.
Freedom is not chaos. It’s not self-expression without self-restraint. It’s the presence of rules we choose together – to protect dissent, ensure fairness, and hold us all to the same standard.
So where do we go from here?
We reclaim freedom not by shouting about it – but by practicing it. By participating. By thinking critically and acting collectively. By protecting the institutions that protect us, even when they frustrate us. By remembering that democracy isn’t self-sustaining. And that markets – like minds – need guardrails to remain fair and free.
Because freedom isn’t a product. It’s a principle.
And the only way to lose it is to forget what it asks of us.
So let’s not.
Yours, Stephan Huber
stephan@style-in-progress.com