Of Dystopias and Suppression
In the Oxford dictionary the definition of the word ‘dystopia’ is as follows:
“An imaginary place or condition in which everything is as bad as possible.”
Dystopian settings have long been a driving force in fiction, as you likely well know, and as such many different subgenres have come to be, based on the exact nature of whatever system has led to everything being ‘as bad as possible’. However, the word 'anti-utopia', in my opinion, tends to be a little more accurate and conveys more of the actual meaning.
These subgenres are very divergent - some believe that there are five dystopian types, each attributed to the level in which the dystopia in question can be resisted, if it can be destroyed, and what would be the personal cost of the everyman in each instance. However, in this four part blog series, we’ll be looking into Orwellian, Huxleyan, Kafkaesque and Phildickian dystopias and the systems shown therein. That means that, today, we’re beginning in the creations of George Orwell: mainly, his 1949 novel Nineteen Eighty-Four.
George Orwell intended for Nineteen Eighty-Four to be something of a cautionary tale, and the advent of a totalitarian society emerging in the future was considered something altogether -very- possible to the author himself. Orwellian dystopias are governed by systems that demand full and total subservience from its citizens, are shown to heavily monitor those who live in its yoke and alter historical events to better keep the populace submissive, as well as fabricating conflicts and external threats to maintain compliance and spread fear. Given it was Orwell himself who invented terms such as ‘big brother’ and ‘thought police’, central themes of Orwellian settings involve scrutinous observation of the populace, along with themes of aggressive re-education in those who stray from the strict guidelines citizens are forced to follow. It was Orwell's belief that our connection to our human history, and the wisdom it imparts upon us about human nature, is an important part of our society - and to have our knowledge of it removed from us by a totalitarian regime would have great and far-reaching consequences: the man had a great reverence for the truth, and his work alludes to such.
The 2002 film Equilibrium depicts an Orwellian dystopia where emotion is suppressed by way of enforced medication, and anything that would invoke emotion in a person is destroyed. Paintings, books, children’s toys, all are incinerated by specialised task forces that wage war on sensation itself. Those who cease taking their Prozium are labelled ‘Sense Offenders’, and suitably become enemies of the state, and are sentenced to death by the eponymously titled ‘Father’. The film follows the slow-burn disillusionment of a man who misses his dose and begins to feel again, forcing him to confront decades of suppressed memories and react belatedly to them. It’s also got Sean Bean in it, and you likely know what that means for his character.
So, we’ve established that Orwellian dystopias are a cold iron shackle tightened around the wrist, locked in place and chained to the floor at your feet, all the while a camera drone hovers above, its single red eye fixated upon you in search of signs of discontent or resistance. The men and women beside you are just as scrutinous as the drones, fearful enough of consequence that they’ll report you for even the smallest infraction, just to avoid being labelled as an accessory or being compliant to the act, and because you bear the burden of the weight alone, it feels insurmountable. Viewscreens far above, mounted on the side of colossal skyscrapers offer assurances that Big Brother is always watching, and that compliance is safety... not that you have any other choice.
And on that somber note, see you next time, where we’ll delve into the flashing lights and distractions of the Huxleyan dystopia. Whenever that is.
