A Future of Non-Combustible Ideas: The Ashes of Public Discourse in Fahrenheit 451

“You must understand that our civilization is so vast that we can’t have our minorities upset and stirred. Ask yourself, What do we want in this country, above all? People want to be happy, isn’t that right? Haven’t you heard it all your life? I want to be happy, people say. Well, aren’t they? Don’t we keep them moving, don’t we give them fun? That’s all we live for, isn’t it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these.”-Captain Beatty, Pg 56 

Among the plethora of dystopian literature, there has been one title I’ve always found particularly fascinating. Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 envisions a future ruled by entertainment and technology, where the written word and creative thinking have been abolished in favor of harmonistic mental junk food. It seems to me that this classic can’t ever seem to reach the same level recognition that George Orwell’s prolific 1984 enjoys, which, honestly, is a crying shame. Fahrenheit 451 contains not only eerily accurate predictions of modern technology considering it being written in the early 50’s, but a chilling portrayal of how this technology and subsequently the entertainment it provides could contribute to a future where public discourse is practically extinct. 

The world of Fahrenheit 451 is vapid, shallow and concerned with nothing more than entertainment, so much so that it seems nearly impossible for most characters to use any amount of critical thinking or even engage in something as simple as empathy for a fellow human being.  Everything is focused on experience, what feels and sounds good, disregarding the actuality of a situation. 

The inhabitants of Fahrenheit 451’s setting are isolated from each other by the technology they rely on for entertainment. Nearly every household has an entire room decorated wall to wall with television screens where they can surround themselves with nothing but the dramatic nonsense and appealing adverts every day. The main character’s wife even refers to the characters on TV as a part of her family. Little earpieces, called Seashells, can play radio and music nonstop which only the listener can hear, eerily identical to earbuds in concept. They also block out any other sound, rendering it impossible for anyone with a Seashell in their ear to hear someone else trying to talk to them. So, not only do people surround themselves with media that seeks to control their conversation and present them with manipulated and dramatized portrayals of everyday life, but they are also literally unable to, at times, even hear one another through their own desire for constant amusement. 

Perhaps the best summarization of this world’s dysfunctional mindset and its complete breakdown of public discourse is given by Captain Beatty, a fireman whose responsibility is to burn books now deemed contraband for their dangerous and “frivolous” concepts and ideas.           

“Colored people don’t like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don’t feel good about Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Burn it. Someone’s written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Funerals are unhappy and pagan? Eliminate them, too.” Pg 57 

Why talk about what’s uncomfortable? Why try to understand what you don’t agree with? Why face an ugly truth or uncomfortable reality? The watering down of media and blatant censorship in Fahrenheit 451 creates an environment where there is nothing to talk about, no controversial topics to discuss. The media robs the people of their ability to think and speak for themselves by providing a constant supply of shallow content and meaningless drivel meant to isolate and manipulate. The television shows even mail scripts to viewers that they are supposed to recite at the right time in a show, even though the people on the television screen can’t hear them nor care. It’s akin to a children’s show along the lines of Dora the Explorer or Blue's Clues, where the audience has a perceived sense of participation, when in reality they have none at all. Except this is for full grown adults. Who should know better. 

Beatty elaborates even further on the state of their society in what I think may be the most chilling and unsettlingly familiar description of this dystopian reality.  

“You can’t build a house without nails and wood. If you don’t want a house built, hide the nails and wood. If you don’t want a man unhappy politically, don’t give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. IF the government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it. Peace, Montag. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn in Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of ‘facts’ they feel they’re stuffed, but absolutely ‘brilliant’ with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy, because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy.” Pg 59

When going back through my much beloved, and tragically disintegrating, copy of the book, Captain Beatty’s entire monologue to Montag is so eerily similar to issues we grapple with in modern society. From the media granting the public a “sense” of knowledge and control, to how entertainment can be used to water things down and distract from an issue, to how reliant we’ve all become upon technology to provide us with information we need to see or, alternatively, only want to see. I truly believe Fahrenheit 451’s grave predictions about the future of public discourse hits uncomfortably close to home. Which is good because that means we can talk about it.