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The history of surveillance is a long one, and watching others a defining feature of civilisation; a natural extension of sight, the dominant of the five human senses. The first great act of surveillance, the Domesday Book, plucked the bedraggled and invaded peasants of Britain from obscurity and stored their details for the new king to pore over.
Just as animals avoid the possibility of being eaten by something more ferocious than themselves by settling on elevated ground, so human architecture does. The achievement of civilisation has been to conquer nature. Where animal architecture aims to protect against heinous carnivores, the aim of human cities is to manage and survey the risk posed by social "undesirables", whether foreign invaders or the revolutionary poor.
From the medieval castle perched atop a hill, to the Great Wall of China, to the towering eyries of "vertical streets" – all allow the tyrannical eye free reign to observe fellow citizens. In the architectural battle to insure against the savage unknown, CCTV is just the latest innovation. The great buildings of the past protected themselves with golems, totems and gargoyles. From Native American totem poles to the great pantheons of gods that adorn buildings in South Asia, the eyes of supernatural beings served to remind citizens that they are being watched. Like the CCTV cameras that adorn the modern city, these faces and totems inhabit the nooks and crannies of buildings, the gaps between walls and roof and the corners from where they can cast the widest gaze.
Surveillance is also central to the urban designs of imperial Europe. From the Champs-Elysées, one of 10 great spokes emanating forth from the Arc de Triomphe, the entire geometry of the landscape draws you towards the eye like hollow of the Arc. It is from the centre of this panoptican that the French state can watch for a number of miles in any given direction with consummate ease. Regent Street was also designed to subdue the chaotic medieval streets that lie below it.
It was in those ancient streets that the crowds and peasants that haunted the psyche of the 19th century bourgeoisie lurked. Regent Street provided an open and safe view. Just behind the colonnades, though, remained the potential for "damp, obscurity, filth and indecency as no regulation or police will be able to prevent".
Likewise, the great cities of imperial China were guided by Confucian principles. These teachings emphasised the harmony of hierarchy, situating the emperor at the centre of the city, clear lines of sight emanating gracefully from his palace. Here the power of the state became the very fabric of the city. Today, China carries this tradition into the new realm of cyberspace with its Golden Shield.
So what does all this say about the debate on CCTV today? CCTV is an incarnation of primitive instincts. Surveillance serves to make people feel safe, even if statistically speaking, it has little impact on crime. A meaningful alternative to surveillance must be a new kind of polis, one where trust rather than fear prevails. The streets must be wrestled away from the big businesses and chain stores that rob high streets of individuality as they jealously watch their assets and hoist their logos. Only then can the alienation that such ubiquity engenders be addressed. CCTV is merely a line of sight, the question is, who do we want to control it?
Guardian Unlimited |
