Big Brother Lives Next Door

I grew up through the heat of the Cold War. From the moment I became aware of life beyond the garden wall, I understood that my very existence was dependent on a terrifyingly fine balance. Though I couldn’t grasp why, I was taught that our good lives were held under constant threat by the ideological monsters in the east.

Thanks to three channel TV, I believed that terrifying men with scary-sounding names like Brezhnev and Andropov were poised, iron fingers hovering over the nuclear button, waiting to seize their moment. I was far too young when the word “Polaris” first entered my vocabulary, and back then it was a word laden with threat. Later, much of the music of the time referenced the blanket of fear beneath which we all slept at night. These days, it amuses me to see TV commercials produced by bright young things with seemingly no idea that the lyrics to the catchy song they are using to flog their Christmas wares are all about the nuclear fire we expected to consume us.

However, despite an endless diet of military might on display in Red Square, grainy footage of plucky Phantoms intercepting Soviet Bears over the North Sea, the Greenham Common protests and Mr Reagan touting his straightoutta-Hollywood Strategic Defense Initiative, the fear receded as I grew older. I’m now not altogether certain I was ever genuinely scared that war would break out. In an era of Mutually Assured Destruction, surely nobody would really be that crazy; I was pretty certain that the Russians actually did love their children too.

No, I think what really put the frighteners on was the apparent reality for the millions of ordinary people trapped behind the Iron Curtain. I lived in fear of living like them, under constant control, an overbearing state watching their every move.

Oddly enough, it was probably in the year 1984 when I first read George Orwell’s brutal satire. Then, the idea of the total state would not, for me, take shape. For my younger self, the darkness of his nightmare was unreal. He had imagined a world that would not, could not happen here. The terrifying life he described was for others – those who lived on the wrong side of the Berlin divide.

Surveillance was sinister. Back then, the only CCTV I encountered was in theftprone department stores. Disturbing black spheres with protruding lenses and red lights that hung menacingly from the ceilings, silently whirling as they watched, straight from the feverish dreams of a Dr Who set designer.

And then something changed – something that reversed the status quo.

The Cold War ended and a wave of euphoria washed over the continent. East very quickly became west. The Scorpions, at last able to call themselves simply “German”, sang about guitars and balalaikas. The SS-20s and Pershings were stood down and Greenham Common air base closed its gates for the final time. In Germany, a second economic miracle unfolded, the horrors of Honecker consigned to history as its reunited populace powered forward durch technik once again.

Here though, something was stirring. It’s hard to pinpoint where it started, but it probably began with the introduction of the first Gatso cameras in the late 80s. As so often, the initial aim was admirable. The policing of dangerous junctions could be automated, reducing the risk of accidents. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

However, it was soon discovered that cameras could be used elsewhere on the roads. Most especially to catch speeding motorists. So called “safety cameras” sprang up like spring daffodils. Ostensibly, they were placed at hazardous locations but when disgruntled motorists began collecting fines on roads that had hitherto been accident free, some wondered how true this was.

As camera technology rapidly advanced, so, too, did the ability to process vast amounts of data. More and better cameras were installed across the network, accompanied by ever more restrictions to catch the unwary. Then came the CCTV explosion. Now it wasn’t just drivers who were being watched. Through the nineties, cameras were installed in our towns and cities at an alarming rate. Once again, this was sold as a safety measure. If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear was the mantra, continually repeated by a Government which was quietly introducing legislation as quickly as it could be conceived.

By the time anyone really noticed it was all too late. Today, the UK has more CCTV cameras per head of population than anywhere else in the world. We live in a state of near constant surveillance, our every move monitored, analysed and logged.

Thanks to the state’s willingness to profit from our information, new industries have been able to flourish. One example being the cowboy parking companies which extort millions of pounds from (often entirely innocent) people who find themselves completely without recourse.

And what has it done to our society? We have become completely enamoured of surveillance. Captivated by cameras. Even our bloody doorbells are filming us. It is now considered perfectly acceptable to post footage and images of people going about their lawful business on the world wide web. Social media has amplified this activity. Witness the local Facebook groups. Privacy is a thing of the past.

Informing has become a hobby – often a rather lucrative one. There are individuals who film their fellow citizens, hoping to catch them out doing something wrong. When they inevitably do (everyone makes mistakes at some point – everyone) they rush to the authorities. Some apparently make a living in such a way, uploading their sanctimonious little films to the internet and monetising the content. Unbelievably, some police forces actually encourage this behaviour, which just a few short years ago would have been seen as a wholly unpleasant thing to do. It was perhaps at its worst during the pandemic. Some, caught up in a raging storm of righteousness, were eagerly reporting their neighbours for perceived wrongdoings.

When looking back at the worst horrors of history, we often ask how ordinary people ever came to act in such a depraved manner. The answer, I’m afraid, is writ large: many are just that way inclined. Our culture of mass surveillance is empowering them. For the sake of a harmonious society, it is past time to stop it. Mr Prime Minister, if you seek a united country, tear down these cameras.