Loving Big Brother
by J. Daniel Janzen

It's George Orwell's 100th birthday, and all of America is celebrating!

Secret detentions, the electronic surveillance of citizens, a perpetual war waged against an ever-changing opponent ... It's as if George himself was writing the script — Orwell, that is, not the other one.

National policy is developed behind closed doors by those whose names are privileged information. The distant rumble of authoritarianism hangs in the air like Christmas in November.

It's natural to be a little concerned. But what can you really do about it? The apparatus of power is already too complete to dismantle; it took shape while we were reading Portraits of Grief. The judiciary has abdicated its checks over the executive-industrial complex it installed, while our elected representatives cower in fear of being caught on the wrong end of a demagogue's tongue. The United Nations has been eviscerated, its last defenders in the State Department gelded. And just look at the Democratic candidates. Are you really going to pin your hopes on any of them? You might as well root for the Reds to take the pennant. It's like global warming; it really doesn't matter how you feel about it.

And that's just the point. In the words of the great Stoic Epictetus, "Seek not that the things which happen should happen as you wish; but wish the things which happen to be as they are, and you will have tranquil flow of life." Or if you prefer, the serenity prayer: "God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and wisdom to know the difference."

Why should we wear ourselves out about the police state? What's so great about the dissident lifestyle, anyway? It raises the blood pressure, brings on headaches and leads to acid indigestion. Look at the nonconformists at any high school. Do they look happy to you? Does Noam Chomsky whistle a happy tune as he walks down the street? Don't you secretly wish Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon would shut the fuck up?

Talk to any Russian you meet and chances are they'll wax nostalgic about the good old days of national pride, industrial might, and subsidized vodka under Stalin. Mussolini made the trains run on time; Tito held together a geopolitical catastrophe; Singapore makes damn sure that chewing gum never gets stuck to the sole of your shoe in the summertime. Giuliani ran New York with an iron fist, but he cleared away the squeegee men and made the city streets safe from the Battery to the northern reaches of Central Park. Repression can even be good for the arts, as the avant garde is forced underground where its work gains potency like the hydroponic chronic made possible by the War on Drugs. Admit it. It sounds kind of nice, doesn't it?

But these are only superficial benefits. The psychic rewards of going with the flow run far deeper. Not just submitting to the hand of authority — but harkening to its voice as well, embracing its truth, drinking the sweet, sweet Kool-Aid.

Imagine sleeping soundly at night, no more worrying about Social Security, international security or the schools, because The Man is in charge and He Knows What He's Doing. You wake up in the morning and know what you'll see in the paper: that everything is going splendidly and the Yankees swept the series. The naysayers have been silenced, the no-goodniks locked up, no one left to ruin your day. PETA has gone away, shipped to some far-off island compound (Guantanamo Bay, to be specific) along with Barbra Streisand and Maureen Dowd. Corporations are free to ply their trade as they know best, relatively unmolested by nattering regulators.

Released from accountability for the state of the world, you think what you're told to think, no need to wrestle with the issues or figure out the right position on affirmative action or arming airline pilots. Your conscience is free to enjoy the bread and circuses. You spend your disastrous tax cut on gas for the Hummer, content in the knowledge that unlimited oil lies just beneath the surface of the Alaskan wasteland. You accept the wholesale auction of public goods like privacy and the environment knowing they'll be used in our best interests, because our interests are perfectly aligned with those of the state. We are America and America is us, so how can anything America does be anything but A-OK?

Wouldn't it be refreshing to root for Good over Evil with none of the troubling ambiguities of liberalism, to know what's right and make it happen, to crush the enemy within? And if a few of our more colorful friends disappear in the night, that just means we'll have more in common with the ones that remain. So come on, join in the celebration, fire a few rounds in the air, lend a hand to hoist the noose! The birthday boy himself said it best:

Under the table Winston's feet made convulsive movements. He had not stirred from his seat, but in his mind he was running, swiftly running, he was with the crowds outside, cheering himself deaf. He looked up again at the portrait of Big Brother. The colossus that bestrode the world! The rock against which the hordes of Asia dashed themselves in vain! He thought how ten minutes ago — yes, only ten minutes — there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the front would be of victory or defeat. ...

He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.

E-mail J. Daniel Janzen at dan at clownyard dot com.