The Harbingers of 1984 and Fahrenheit 451

"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever." (Orwell, 267) As writers, actors, historians, and artists could attest, life sometimes imitates art. Science-Fiction has a most curious tendency to become Science-Fact. Reality bends to the whims of fantasy. In fewer theatres has this proved truer than the dystopian realms of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 541 and George Orwell's 1984. Both novels were penned in the wake of World War II and at the cusp of the Cold War. As such, they encapsulated the unsettling zeitgeist - sociopolitical, economic, and ideological - of postbellum Europe, all the while they gave form to the massive governmental metamorphoses that bookended the Second World War. Out of their dank deluge of disturbing divinations, two have oft ensnared many a sociologist's meditations: the prevalence of censorship and the perpetuation of conflict. Because these elements appear prominently in both novels, as well as in 21st Century "civilization", the implications for the future are concerning. The control of knowledge and the promotion of conflict - these tendrils increasingly writhe into individuals' lives and America at large.

Take censorship, for instance. Note the use of the term censorship as a broad designation that encompasses the control and destruction of knowledge, the selective perception (if not outright alteration) of history, and the manipulation of public and personal thought. Before delving into the lowest reaches of modern society to disgorge these demons, it would be best to explain the literary foundations in the scope of the Bradbury's and Orwell's brainchildren.

"It was a pleasure to burn." (Bradbury, 1) With a single telegraphic statement, Ray Bradbury established the premise of Fahrenheit 451. There is bliss - primal, unadulterated, troglodytic exhilaration - in destruction, including the destruction of intellect; of knowledge. Perhaps that is why the Firemen, along with the rest of the book's characters, relish in the flaming immolation of intellectuals, freethinkers, and their collective works. These censors, the spawn of both government mandate and popular will, go beyond mere bowdlerization: any printed literature is deemed absolutely unacceptable and subsequently annihilated.

To a degree, the people of Fahrenheit 451 are largely to blame. It is by their own fault that literary suppression runs rampant in their world. Mildred Montag and her obsession with television and her fast-paced ephemeral life shine much light on why books are burned:

The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caesar's Praetorian Guard, whispering ... "Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal." Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money, or that many friends." (Bradbury, 82)

In other words, true literature makes for tough love. Books, though they grant access to far-away lands and exotic ideas, take time to read. They force the imagination to work; they hold a mirror to the reader's face. Sometimes, this reflected visage is quite beautiful. At other times, it is painfully provocative. So, in a world teeming with feel-good advertizing, visual idealizations, literally immersive televisions, and electronic opiates more numbing than morphine; why would one want to confront the darker, the slower, the harsher sides of life? They wouldn't. (This bears a resemblance to today's transient, sybaritic culture.) The human experience is gritty and confusing, so anything that stands opposite the sugar-coating and anesthetizing of this truth will naturally be expunged in favor of more-pleasant coping mechanisms.

On the other hand, the government in Fahrenheit 451 shares a large slice of the blame, as well. To clarify: broaden the term government to refer to all the ruling entities and forces in the novel, independent of the plebeians. These interests use sheer power (as embodied by the Firemen) to ensure that censors are obeyed and that written knowledge - or anything that can prompt a single higher-tier train of thought - is vehemently vaporized. It is much easier to control a population when it cannot substantively think for itself; when the authority keeps the crux to enlightenment out of the hands of the hoi polloi. If knowledge is power, then ignorance is weakness - and the weak are far easier to rule than the strong. Those who are monumentally distracted by bread and circuses will never threaten another's dominion. This particular thematic thread is even more prevalent in the far-darker 1984.

If Fahrenheit 451 is a gloomy shadow, 1984 is a black hole. George Orwell, some would argue, drafted the single greatest horror story of the 20th Century. Few other books better articulate the nature of power and control. Though it predates Fahrenheit 451 by just over three years, 1984 takes the latter's speculations on maintaining authority by controlling written knowledge and thought to their natural extremes. Orwell believed language and thought were corruptible. "It is a beautiful thing, the destruction of words." (Orwell, 51) Indeed, language and thought are intrinsically linked. It is possible to mold a subject's thoughts to one's choosing just by controlling their language and its purview. That is the exact purpose of Newspeak. It serves to keep the Proles and the Outer Party under the incontrovertible domination of the Inner Party. True power is a function of the mind: "Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until they have rebelled they will never become conscious." (Orwell, 74) In restricting access to information (and thus mental faculties), Big Brother guarantees that none shall ever engender any notions of rebellion or questioning. Stifle solidarity and impede the formation of a class consciousness, and the masses will remain objects to be manipulated (and not inquisitive minds to be reasoned with.) History is continually re-written to suit the needs of the Party - if perception is reality, then Oceania's ruling class truly "controls the future" by "[controlling] the past." (Orwell, 34) Memory holes swallow up even the smallest trifles of inconvenient facts and inscribed nonconformity. Thus, it comes as little surprise that "facts are suppressed, dates altered, questions removed..." (Orwell) And none can challenge what does not exist.

As O'Brien horrifically put it, "Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them back together in new shapes of your own choosing." (Orwell, 266) Some might think this supposition smacks of sensationalism. But are the censorship-born, thought-restricting, oligarchy-serving power ploys in Fahrenheit 451 and 1984 so alien to the