Thoughtcrime

Thoughtcrime
by Jeff McMahon

NOTE: Originally published February 21, 1985 in the Arizona Daily Wildcat, the newspaper of the University of Arizona, this column reviews its era rather than its object, the film adaption of George Orwell’s 1984, and it contains some of that era’s anachronisms. Yuppies were a relatively new phenomenon, for example. They stood out in a crowd and, as a movement, still seemed opposable. Also, it was much more fashionable in 1985, and much more possible, to be critical of capitalism. There was still another coherent system competing for world domin-ation, and that other system still had many sympathizers in the United States. Finally, Ronald Reagan was pioneering a new style of governance, captured by the Orwellian phrase “Ignorance is Strength,” that has become the norm, so far, in the 21st Century. In 1985, America was still in transition between the Age of Aquarius and the Age of Consumerism. Few saw clearly the deep mechanism of that transition, as it has since been seen by scholars: a shift of political attention from outside — in society — to inside — into the living room, bedroom, and church of each citizen. This vintage review may offer an artifact of reflex reaction to that shift, a guttural response to the contractions then birthing a shameless new America.
When the final credits of the film adaptation to George Orwell’s 1984 rolled off the screen last Friday night — its premiere in Tucson — all but three members of the sparse audience still sat in the darkness, silent, staring at a black screen and listening to the diminishing chords of Annie Lennox singing “Julia.” Lots of films will move you, but it’s a rare one that can chill you into stasis. 1984 does it, I believe, because it assaults you, it drains you, and it’s about you. Orwell set 1984 only 36 years after the novel’s publication, speeding the world’s moral decay by waging a nuclear war between those dates. Without the war we lack the contrast in our 36 years that appears in his. But even without black and white, we show a definite, darkening shade of gray. 1984 has been, and is, happening. Winston Smith, Orwell’s protagonist, lives in a world in which order for the sake of order takes precedence over humanity. The state demands everything. It demands every thought, lest you commit a “thoughtcrime.” It demands every devotion, lest you commit a “sexcrime.” You watch it always, and it watches you. Would it be too paranoid of me to equate the inevitability of Winston Smith’s world with the new emphasis we are putting upon the flag, the dollar, and the posh foothills home? Would it be too paranoid of me to equate it with the robotic state of education (“2+2=5”), the explosion of technology (“Big Brother is watching you”), the pop-love of Reagan’s foreign policy (“War is Peace”), domestic policy (“Freedom is Slavery”), and Hollywood style of delivery (“Ignorance is Strength”)? If all of us, you and I, were one student at one Great Desert University, we’d be turning our collective Republican back on the fine and liberal arts in favor of practical and lucrative pursuits such as business and computer science. Or we’d be studying hard science and neglecting the humanities and social sciences — the fields that show us how to use hard science. After graduation we’d get a career, a credit rating, a spouse, a house, an ulcer, a divorce, a coronary, and extreme unction. Order has gained precedence over humanity. Something terrible must have happened during my upbringing that prevents me from understanding my own generation. Yupsters trouble me. I can comprehend the kind of ambition that would lead someone to seek power through money, but I cannot accept indifference to the rest of humanity. I can comprehend the fear of poverty that would lead someone to pursue only financially lucrative subjects, but I can’t accept the blindness of it. A life of business for the sake of business is a life in pursuit of ephemera, a life spent sucking minerals out of a rock that is bound to suck them back. Why would anyone want to spend a lifetime collecting things that return to their origin upon death? It’s pointless. You’ve helped no one. You never were. In 1984, a member of the Inner Party threatens Winston Smith with eternal anonymity. He threatens to remove him from history, which the government rewrites at its whim. He threatens to strike Winston’s name from every ledger. “You never were,” he tells him. You are defeating yourselves, yupsters. Orwell reveals the evolution of your interests. Unless you are Big Brother, unless you are the state, you can only borrow the flag, the dollar, and the posh foothills home. Eventually you’ll get the Thoughtpolice, the Choco-ration, and Room 101 — “a boot stamping on a human face forever.” I had wrongly attributed the 1985 wide release of 1984 to poor planning. Relatively few are still hip enough on Orwell to see the film. Too much has been said, too many columns like this one have already been written. No one wants to hear it. The makers of 1984 managed a limited premiere just before the end of last year, but they knowingly sacrificed the obvious financial benefits of giving the film wider release last year so they could shoot 1984 in the exact place and time of Orwell’s setting. That’s part of what makes it so haunting — it’s about last year. There are no weird technologies or odd beings in this “science-fiction” feature. Nothing happens in 1984 that is not happening to someone, somewhere, right now in 1985. I recommend some thoughtcrime, before it’s too late.

© copyright 1985, 2007 Jeff McMahon | All Rights Reserved