ABSTRACT
In Jeremy Bentham's dream of the Panopticon prison, the first thing experienced by a criminal upon his incarceration is a kind of baptism: ritual ablution, prayer, ‘psalmody,’ organ music. 1 Afterwards, cleansed and sombre, the new prisoner is led into a cell that is identical to the others in the multileveled circle of which it forms a part. At that moment he realises that he cannot tell whether or not he is under observation. The darkened tower in the middle of the circle might hide the watching eyes of the prison inspector, or it might be just as blank as it looks. All he knows is that he does not know. 2 This subtle predicament drastically curtails his opportunities for wrongdoing; his very desire to disobey should fade as he comes to realise the full extent of the forces controlling his behaviour. 3 For ‘who would expose themselves even to the slightest punishment, or even to the mortification of […] disappointment, without so much as a tolerable chance of escaping instantaneous detection?’ (Panopticon 46–47).
