Not in the sense that Orwell was describing, but in certain ways, yes. When you reflect on how much power American corporations have over supposedly free citizens, doesn’t it scare the hell out of you?
Consider that in order to live, you have to work. In order to work, you have to convince an employer to give you a job. And in order to convince them to give you (or let you keep) a job they can investigate your personal history for decades, obtain and evaluate your credit history, compel you to provide samples of your urine or blood or hair for chemical analysis, determine whether you or anyone in your family should receive medical care and to what degree they should receive it, open your mail, compel you to use a computer and then monitor every keystroke you make, listen to and record your telephone calls and use anything you say against you, arbitrarily change your employment classification so they can force you to work extra hours or days without pay, conduct a physical search of your person or work area without warrant, rewrite your job description in order to give you additional responsibilities without an increase in pay, dictate how you live by fixing the wage for your position across the industry, dictate where you live through involuntary transfer, sever your employment at any time for any reason or no reason, force you to devote a portion of your retirement savings to the purchase of company stock, make you sign a contract stipulating that any original idea occurring to you during the course of your employment belongs to them, and of course, prohibit you from ‘competing against’ them by working in your field of expertise for several years should you suddenly decide to quit.
Don’t like those terms? You’re welcome to work for another employer legally entitled to treat you the same.
I know that every time I use a credit card I’m revealing my identity and social status before the transaction, and my shopping habits, brand preferences and estimated income afterwards. I know the information is jealously scrutinized, tabulated and resold to third parties who use that information to bring demographically targeted ‘special offers’ to my attention. I know that telemarketers know far more about me than just my name and phone number. I know that cash, for all of its inconveniences, is the only anonymous payment method at my disposal and even that can reveal information about me.
So really who needs a telescreen? They can read your Visa statement to find out what you’ve been up to.
It was a happily ever after, both for the Party and for Smith. I believe that’s why it’s ultimately regarded as satire rather than horror, kind of like Swift’s Modest Proposal in which he suggested that if Ireland had too many babies and not enough potatos it should be obvious which one to eat.
I think it was the right book at the right time. The end of WWII, the mind-fuck of finding out what was going on in Germany and Poland, the invention of the atom bomb, Stalinist Russia, the advent of radar, guided missiles and even television… the future looked very bleak in 1949. But the decades of the 50s through the 80s, the world in which most of us grew up, was much more stable and pleasant than anyone would have anticipated then. That makes me generally optimistic about our own future, though it wouldn’t hurt us to have an attitude adjustment of Orwellian magnitude along the way.
It’s almost beside the point. Orwell wasn’t satisfied to tattle on the marxists by exposing the true motivation for revolution, he also narced on the church by laying bare the mechanics of deism. He scored a few bonus points like the observation that religion hates nothing more than a good shag because it uses up energy that could otherwise be channeled into zealotry, but there wasn’t alot of sentimentality involved in the relationship as a plot device. Orwell was idealistic in his way, but not particularly romantic.