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“Well, Mr. Illiterate Jock, let me enlighten you. There was this philosopher-slash-historian called Foucault, who wrote about how society is like this legendary prison called the panopticon. In the panopticon, you might be under constant observation, except you can never be sure whether someone is watching or not, so you wind up following the rules anyway.” “But how do you know who’s a watcher and who’s a prisoner?” I asked, pulling into the empty parking lot. “That’s the point. Even the watchers are prisoners. Come on, let’s go on the swings.” — Robyn Schneider
Well, Mr. Illiterate Jock, let me enlighten you. There was this philosopher-slash-historian called Foucault, who wrote about how society is like this legendary prison called the panopticon. In the panopticon, you might be under constant observation, except you can never be sure whether someone is watching or not, so you wind up following the rules anyway.”
“But how do you know who’s a watcher and who’s a prisoner?” I asked, pulling into the empty parking lot.
“That’s the point. Even the watchers are prisoners. Come on, let’s go on the swings.