An Amateur Dystopia: A Modern Man Looks At “The Prisoner”

Note: As a way of making this rant approachable for all, I’ll talk about something upon which we can all agree: surveillance.

(Because if we were merely speaking of something as simple as whether or not the Internet has driven us mad, there are two kinds of people:

1. Those who do not believe the Internet has driven us mad. This view is insane; these people are mad.
2. Those who believe the Internet has driven us mad. They’re either not likely to see this, or they’re near the Internet, in which case they know they’re insane.

So I’ll go with something less controversial: surveillance.

Now, sure, in “The Prisoner”, we see a man who is repeatedly knocked unconscious, to awaken in all manner of incredibly complex psychological schemes designed to get him to reveal why he left the Secret Service. It’s difficult to argue that your phone subjects you to the same level of pain—

(it’s NOT AT ALL difficult to argue this, actually. But we’re trying not to think about it)

—as The Prisoner (aka “Number 6”) experiences.

But in terms of surveillance, it’s purely amateur.

Sure, there are almost no places in the Village where you can’t be found on camera (which surely seemed almost magical in the 60s, and certainly must have been horrifying).

(Your phone’s camera is definitely not watching you.)

(We’re pretty sure.)

But that’s the thing…they have to FIND you. Or they have to have spent considerable time and energy placing The Prisoner (or, presumably, other imprisoned members of The Village) in some place where he’s easy for them to watch.

Unless you tell it not to do so, your phone ALWAYS knows where you are.

And the smarter your phone is, the more it will make guesses about your health, and the more decisions it will make for you…

…sorry. We were talking about surveillance?

All right.

The Prisoner lives in a place called The Village, a seemingly pleasant, very small English town. It looks rather idyllic; but there are very few places (and all of them, as far as I have seen so far, secret or new) where you couldn’t be caught on camera if the people in charge wanted to find you.

…which is true of whoever owns the company which owns the company which offers you your phone service.

Damn.

All right.

I was trying to write a neat little satire about how “The Prisoner” is a weirdly homey little dystopian Universe which is supposed to be about the extreme psychological torture of (at least) one person and the complicity of a number of others.

But the more I try to dismiss any of the serious problems with cellphones in a humorous manner, the more I have trouble joking about it.

I will give this to you anyway.

With any luck, you’re reading it on your phone, and whoever’s secretly looking over your shoulder will find it funny as heck.

_________

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