Damn George Orwell!

Damn George Orwell!
(He never was any good at math)

As a boy, I was deeply affected by George Orwell’s book, “1984.”  Its descriptions of a world full of totalitarianism, of cameras videotaping your every move, of Big Brother watching you twenty-four/seven, all of it seemed but a heartbeat away.  I just knew that before I died, I’d be living in just such a world.

But 1984 - the year - came and went, and with it, George’s prediction.  In 1984, the world was nothing like he had visualized.  Oh, there were third world countries locked in turmoil, and Vietnam had been assimilated by Communism, but on the other hand, the Soviet Block was slowly disintegrating, replaced by individual nations who screamed for democracy and freedom, and this new thing they called global economy appeared to be as solid as Fort Knox.  Damn, the world was looking pretty good.  Clearly George had missed his mark.

Then the other day, I got my new driver’s license, and my thoughts of George returned.

In many respects the new license was like the old one.  It had my name, my address, my basic info like height and weight, and in large font, there was my license number, all the things I was used to and that were common place.  In fact it had my picture, not once but twice, and my initial reaction was, wow, these boys really have it down now.  It was the perfect I.D., and no way could it be duplicated. What a giant step for mankind.

It all seemed so high-tech, so new century.  I was really impressed … until I looked on the back.  At first glance it was nothing, just the typical mundane rear-of-a-card that contained the other vitals … my restrictions (corrective lenses), my endorsements (Class E: Single vehicle to 8,000 pounds), and a couple of bureaucratic messages like that I am required to notify them of an address or name change within 10 days, and that the State of Florida retains all property rights herein – in other words, they own it..  No big deal.  But then I saw it, the magnetic strip.

I showed it to a friend, and asked, “What’s this?”

“Oh that. It’s your driving history. They can swipe it,” he matter of factly responded, “and in doing so, they bring up all your driving records.  Pretty slick, huh.  Soon every state in the union will be doing this. A cop can access your records right from the seat of his car.”

“And this?” I asked as I showed him the other thing, a bar code of sorts.

“That’s where they’ll keep your vital statistics,” he cheerfully replied.  “You know, your blood type, medical history, that sort of stuff.”

“My financials?”  I asked.

“I suppose so, if they wanted to, but that’s not what’s planned.  I don’t think Congress has approved that sort of thing.  In fact, if I’m not sure, I think they’ve specifically prohibited it.”

“Oh really?”  I responded skeptically.

It was at that moment that I realized, the shit had hit the proverbial fan, and folks, the fan was blowing it right my way. 

Suddenly my mind went to TEVO, you know those machines that can record huge amounts of TV for your later use.  For the uninitiated, you need to know that those little buggers are actually computers. They have a motherboard, a hard drive and other components that allow them to digitally store stuff at your request.  Great idea.  I had one.  They work.

But ponder this. They receive instructions – your menu and the like – via a telephone line that you, the consumer must connect to them.  The machine is accessable from a home base twenty-four hours a day.  Now try this on.  Many of the cable companies are offering TEVO-like devices built into your digital cable box.  You’ve got to have the box if you want HDTV or many of the premium stations they offer, and since it’s built in, why not have the box come with digital recording? Right? Hell, I would … or would have.

In the satellite TV industry, they’ll give you digital boxes for up to four rooms as a part of you renting their services. Digital recording is an inexpensive (if not free) add-on.  Adding boxes with a cable company is one of the cheapest things you can do.  The all know, cable and satellite alike, that their money is in the subscription you sign, not the equipment. In a few years the equipment will be free.

But what if each of those boxes contained a camera, say a fish eye that can see an entire room; that in just the same way you pull date in, they can send data out … data and pictures?  What if somehow, someway, this all came under government control?  Now, what if your sexy, streamlined, 21st. Century license or I.D. had all this stuff about you … you politics, how you voted, your medical history, your high school grades?  Your girlfriend’s favorite flower?

Ask yourself this:  How much data can you put on the end of a pin?  Better yet, ask Bill Gates. One magnetic strip on the back of your card could contain the history of your family since the beginning of time … and there would be room left over to store your dietary plans for the next 100 years.

Think about it; the card, the boxes. Can Big Brother be far behind?  Is he watching already?  How many cameras do you see today on traffic light poles?  Did you know that at a recent Super Bowl, Homeland Security videoed every single person that was there?  Right now, this very minute, your authorities know more about you than your best friend does.  It’s a matter of security.  Sounds a lot like Big Brother to me.

And that’s the rub; It sounds like Big Brother.  The “Big Boys” say that our nation’s safety depends on these devices, the ones they are using now.  But how long will it be before they need the other devices, too … the data on your license, the cameras in your home?  And when they do, will they even tell us?  George, damn you, you missed your date by twenty years!  Big Brother may be late, but he’s at your front door now, and he’s knocking.

In the former Soviet Union, all citizens carried papers.  That was true in Hitler’s Europe, too.  If they asked, you showed them.  If they were not in order (whatever that means), the barer was detained.  That’s how they controlled movement, controlled lives.  Are we pointed there as well?  I think it’s a question worth asking.

But for now, I just wanted you to know about my fancy new license … and to point out that George Orwell sucked at math.  The book should have been titled, “2004.”