It’s important to remember that the most iconic dystopian fiction is not a vision of the future or an insight into the darkest tendencies of human nature.
The most iconic dystopian fictions are specifically insights into the nature of the British. Orwell was not painting a vision of the future, he was opening a window into the minds and hearts of the British.
Perhaps not all British people are this way, but enough of them are and enough of them have clawed their way onto the fulcrums of institution that they stomp upon the face of their kinsmen until they can all down in misery together.
Terry Gilliam’s Brazil is one of the most enlightening pieces of media and arguably the greatest depiction of proper dystopia through the lens of actual relevant sourcing: British culture and governance. In Brazil you very clearly see a society that instills a tyranny of convolution upon its populace. Everyone drowns in tubes and wires. Bureaucracy stretches out onto an exponential infinite dimension of torturous agony. The film culminates in the highest ideal a British person strives for in life, which is to torture a friend viciously for the sin of having transgressed an absurd law.
It was always laughable that high school teachers and armchair midwit philosophers would dangle the likes of 1984 in front of us as some cautionary warning against something that could ever happen to us. The truth is that while a police surveillance state or oppressive dictatorship is always a very real possibility, the excessive horror of that existence is not really something that’s universally applicable. It is nightmare that the British distinctly occupy. A cruelty that excessively morose is exclusive to certain specific societies, one in which drab misery was always present. The Russians are a good example as well, their Bolshevik communist hellscape could only have been facilitated by a people already used to trampling upon each others existence through a history of harsh cruelty. Most dystopias have generous pockets of humanity to give reprieve from the cruelties of the state, which are mostly done logistically without excessive need to crush humanity
The UK is unique in this tendency. Their cold shitty damp swamp origins fostered a brutish people who have developed an attraction to suffering, a hunger for it, a need to crush their fellow man in order to feel any sense of fulfillment. The most autonomous and independent of their ranks left for the new world or some other colony. Britain’s best always choose to leave that damp shithole, despising the ravenous maw of chattering busybodies and chastising hags who will scurry away from stab happy Africans to hone in on random natives and harass them for the sake of existing.
This is why they were so prodigious an empire. They wanted to be anywhere else but home. It’s why the mutiny on the HMS Bounty occurred, the prospect of returning to London was a promise of entering hell itself. The fascinating combination of ignorance mixed with fictional-factual toned smugness makes the English nanny drones particularly tantalizing for hate. They are so specifically programmed for crushing their fellow man that it’s not enough to simply gawk at them and dismiss them. You want to actually go to England and beat them thoroughly with large iron rods. You want to reprogram their brains via a gun pressed into their mouth as tears stream down their face. Theirs a worldview so abhorrent to all natural principles of existence that they deserve to be corrected inside of a soundproofed shipping container.
Their laws jail you for purchasing dull cookware knives while daily rape gets completely dismissed. They are so specifically rabid in their crusade to suffocate life that they reach out to other countries to prosecute people for transgressing against hate speech laws. Their country swirls into the toilet and their final dying act is to pull down and drown their fellow kinsmen when they try to escape.
[self-reply]
I have British mutuals and friends. I have no need to make any concession or apology to them, none at all. They all already agree with me and understand on a level even I could not comprehend. They all know just how terrible their own country is. Through whatever vaguely Norman or general European admixture has elevated them to the status of human being, they are subject to the whims and tortures of a rabid inhuman orc goblin Anglo race, one which has spread just enough in minority to make everyone’s lives a living hell.
Politeness has undone these people. The harpist smiles and diffuses the hateful guttural smallness of the council hag who finds offense in the random Venmo sign, but this is not enough. You people must learn from the violent hordes of Africans and gun toting Albanian drug dealers that rule your lives. You must learn the value of violence. Your shackles are the tallest grass syndrome riddled peers that immediately react with disdain whenever you display any sense of grandeur, ambition, or enterprise.
Hear me, English people, the few humans left on your squalid island: Your chains are forged from the prying noses of your neighbors. The next time you are accosted by a whinny harridan or a tsking fop, you must react viciously. You must create consequences. You must punish them tenfold to make up for the decades of punishment they have inflicted upon you. If you do not learn to save your own country, America will not be able to save you in time. You will be a caricature of a memory, something to be imitated by the amusement park which will replace what you call home after all the pests have been flushed out.
