In 1948, George Orwellâs Nineteen Eighty-Four portrayed a bleak future for mankind. A future almost entirely filled with surveillance technologies and surveilling practices; one where all seeing eyes and ears threaten to destroy individualism in favour of blind conformity. Orwellâs ominous vision of Big Brother and the control exerted by the Ministries of Oceania, is one premised on the notion of surveillance, and with it, states of selfhood where the system âcontrols matter because we control the mindâ (Orwell 1948, p. 268). The grim reality of Orwellâs Big Brother is not merely the weight of sheer political power, but rather, the effects of surveillance on those who are watched, and thereby, those who are policed. By extension, as the novelâs protagonist Winston Smith informs us, the power of these technologies to maintain the societal system around him, indeed Oceania itself, means this is not only a surveilled space, but a space of surveillance where âBIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOUâ (Orwell 1948, p. 3). The importance of surveillance technology in Nineteen Eighty-Four cannot be underestimated, for here is a system that can both watch and thereby control the masses; and furthermore, by affecting the spaces we inhabit, can manipulate and reshape our selfhood: âwho controls the past ⌠control the future; who controls the present controls the pastâ (Orwell 1948, p. 37).
Orwellâs now recognizable environment is pertinent to this collection of essays on the nature of surveillance; from the manner in which spaces can affect identity; to how the gaze of these technologies can determine individual behaviour and selfhood. Jeremy Benthamâs panopticon (1843) inculcated surveillance within architecture. What Bentham ascertained was the creation of a consciousness solely based on permanent visibility as a form of power; in effect, a space âbased on a system of permanent registrationâ (Foucault 1975, p. 196). Orwellâs urban landscape is not dissimilar in its structure; where âyou had to liveâdid live from habit that became instinctâin the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and except in darkness, every movement scrutinizedâ (Orwell 1948, p. 3). Big Brother exhibits the same power as Benthamâs panopticon, constantly observing the bodies of Oceania; only in Orwellâs version, the power of surveillant technologies not only affects behaviour through a system of power, it also creates identity, where âeach individual is fixed in his place ⌠the gaze is alert everywhereâ (Foucault 1975, p. 195).
Unlike the inmates of Benthamâs prisons, Winston Smith is fully aware of the potential control wielded over him by the all seeing eye of Big Brother, and rather than behave, he merely performs correctly: âhe had set his features into the expression of quiet optimism which it was advisable to wear when facing the telescreenâ (Orwell 1948, p. 5). Winston, under the gaze of the telescreens, continually shifts his identity in order to reflect a visibly acceptable, and more importantly, conformist identity. What we witness with Orwellâs form of surveillance is not only panopticism, but also how the gaze of surveillant technologies can shift identity within spaces of visibility. However, as readers of Nineteen Eighty-Four will well know, this isnât a system which can be overcomeâit is merely a space of continual identity immobility where acts of individualism are punished, and a life of perpetual performativity upheld. As Michel Foucaultâs work on panopticism states: âpower has its principle not so much in person as in certain concerted distribution of bodies, surfaces, lights, gazesâ (Foucault 1975, p. 202), and for this reason, Winston Smith will never be able to defeat the power of surveillance.
What we can learn from Orwellâs vision is the manner in which technology can impact our understanding of reality, and with that, the ensuing issues of who is surveilled, who has the power of the gaze, and how architectural structures can impact our surveilled potential. Martin Fuglesang and Bent Meier Sorensonâs work on Gilles Deleuze extends this idea further, where identity is marked by spaces and given corporeality by its action (Fuglesang and Sorenson 2006). In Nineteen Eighty-Four, Winstonâs identity is almost entirely created by the surveillance of Big Brother and by Winstonâs actionsâhe is both given identity as a body to be watched, and one to be watched as he disobeys the laws of Oceania. However, according to Fuglesang and Sorenson, if we require a frame in order to have an identity (in Winstonâs case, his apartment and the telescreen) then it is, rather confusingly, this same frame which allows us to be realâin essence, it is by being watched that we can become real. The potential contained in surveillant technologies is therefore twofold: providing bodies with identities they may not want, but at the same time providing them with an identity that can be determined as real â I am watched, therefore I am. Surveillance technologies may not, therefore, deserve their dystopian image, and as these chapters suggest, may contain the potential for individuals to become more than just a body to be watched.
Orwellâs Oceania is arguably, the most recognisable fictional example of a surveilled state, but the reality of surveillance in the modern world appears to be far more entrenched than the all seeing eye of Big Brother. Salient media discourses remind us that surveillance exists all around us, and in a multitude of forms. In May 2016, artist Laura Poitras exhibited âAstro Noiseâ at the Whitney owned Hurst Family Gallery in New York. The exhibition consisted of a series of documentary clips, architectural plans and documents, and thermal radiation images on the subject of mass surveillance and the US drone project. Hailed as a form of âpolitical artâ which âreveals mass surveillance at home and [the] extensive drone wars abroadâ (Cotter 2016a, p. C21), the exhibition exposed Poitrasâ involvement with the Edward Snowden files following her collaboration with the documentary film Citizenfour. Some of the exhibition was shaped by the Snowden leaks and featured images of rooftops in Baghdad and slow motion images of New Yorkers staring at Ground Zero. One particular exhibit, âO Say Can You Seeâ featured a two sided video installation of black and white footage of prisoners in Afghanistan cut with the military aftermath of 9/11. As Holland Cotter determines, the exhibit draws attention to the need for survival in the age of mass surveillance, calling it âart of the âwe shall overcomeâ sortâ (Cotter 2016b, p. C21). Poitrasâ exhibition unveils the impact of surveillance not only on ourselves, but also on our understanding of others. In a similar vein, in June 2016, the International Center of Photography (ICP) in New York unveiled its inaugural exhibition entitled âPublic, Private, Secretâ. The ICPâs curator, Charlotte Cotton, conceived of the exhibition in an attempt to address timely questions concerning how the images we broadcast communicate something about ourselves, and what happens when others view these images without our knowledge (Budick 2016). Much like Poitrasâ exhibition of post 9/11 surveillance, Cottonâs exhibition confronts us with images from webcam stills, Instagram and Twitter in a manner that renegotiates the links between self, viewer and other (Budick 2016). These exhibitions demonstrate, not only the prevalence of surveillance technologies, where real surveillance can be turned into art, but also the many forms surveillant practices can take where, âvisual fiction stands in for truthâ (Cotter 2016a, p. C21). This collection returns both to 9/11 and to the promise of art in ord...