The Panopticon is often used to describe a dystopian system of constant surveillance. The idea that being watched at all times creates fear and compliance has shaped how many people view it today. But Jeremy Bentham’s original plan was different. His goal was to reduce violence, not enforce control. He designed the Panopticon to limit the unchecked power of prison guards and officials. By making their actions visible, he believed it would be harder for them to harm those under their care.
Bentham saw inspection as a way to prevent cruelty, especially in a time when abuse inside prisons was common and rarely punished. He wanted the presence of a watchful eye to protect, not threaten.
Now consider what that could mean today—when the former president’s family business has re-entered the White House. Since returning to power, Donald Trump has surrounded himself with appointees and advisors tied directly to his private holdings. His administration has accepted gifts from foreign governments, including a $400 million private jet from Qatar routed through opaque donor networks. Trump himself continues to profit from properties where officials and lobbyists seek favor. His daughter-in-law, now co-chair of the RNC, has overseen campaign events hosted at Trump-owned venues, blurring the line between governance and self-enrichment. The Justice Department’s anti-corruption unit has been quietly dismantled. Surveillance isn’t missing…It’s just aimed the wrong way.
Surveillance already exists. People are tracked through phones, cameras, online activity, and financial records. However, the people being watched rarely make decisions that affect others. The powerful still operate behind closed doors. What if that changed? What if surveillance focused on those who hold office, run institutions, or enforce laws? With the tools now available, such as automated monitoring, public data systems, and sensor networks, it’s possible to apply the same idea Bentham had, but in another direction.
18th-Century Prisons: The Real Dystopia
Before reforms were introduced, prisons were violent and unpredictable. Guards controlled daily life with little or no oversight. Bribes were common. Those who could pay often received special treatment. Those who couldn’t were left in cramped, dirty cells without basic protection. Men, women, and children were often held together, regardless of the charges or the risks. Food was unreliable. Medical care, if it existed, was informal. Beatings and sexual abuse were not unusual. Complaints rarely reached anyone with authority.
There was no regular inspection of these places. Information about what happened inside rarely reached the outside world. Wardens and guards held control over people who had no way to defend themselves. Punishment was part of the daily routine, even for those not yet convicted. This was the accepted system. No real checks were in place.
Public concern grew as reports of these conditions became harder to ignore. Writers, doctors, and early reformers began to publish details of prisoners’ treatment. They called for cleaner facilities, better food, and separate spaces for different groups. However, their ideas primarily focused on conditions, not structure.
Bentham took a different approach. He argued that the physical design of the prison could prevent harm. His Panopticon model made every part of the prison visible from a single point. That visibility would apply to both inmates and staff. The goal was to prevent violence by making it possible for anyone, at any time, to see what was happening. Instead of relying on rules or good intentions, the design itself would limit abuse.
The Panopticon’s Original Purpose
Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon was based on a clear structural idea: a circular building with a central watchtower surrounded by cells along the perimeter. The design allowed one observer to see into each cell without being seen. The person in the tower didn’t need to watch all the time; just the possibility that they might be watching was enough. That uncertainty, Bentham argued, would shape behavior.
The model relied on the effect of visibility. When someone knows they can be seen, they are more likely to follow the rules. But Bentham didn’t limit this logic to prisoners. He believed that guards, supervisors, and managers should also be subject to the same type of observation. This made the Panopticon different from most prison designs of the time. It placed responsibility on those running the institution by making their actions easier to examine.
Bentham’s broader argument was rooted in a belief that society should be organized around reason, clear systems, and public accountability. He believed harmful behavior was less likely to occur when actions were visible. If the guard knows anyone might be watching, whether it’s a visitor, inspector, or official, they’re more likely to follow the rules and treat prisoners fairly.
He also believed that transparency didn’t need to rely on trust. Instead of depending on the goodwill of individuals, the structure itself would create conditions that discouraged abuse. Bentham thought the right design could do more to limit cruelty than rules or punishments ever could.
The Panopticon was built on the assumption that systems work better when they’re open to observation. Bentham saw this as a way to improve institutions. His goal was to create stability through openness. He imagined a facility where anyone could enter, observe, and hold the staff accountable for how it was run. In this way, the design was less about confinement and more about control over power use.
How We Misread the Panopticon Today
The Panopticon has taken on a different meaning in the decades since Bentham’s time. Writers and theorists have used it as a symbol of control, especially Michel Foucault in the 1970s. In his work, the Panopticon became a way to describe how modern societies use discipline to manage people’s behavior. He argued that surveillance creates internalized fear and that this fear shapes how people act, even when no one is watching.
That interpretation changed how the Panopticon was understood. It became shorthand for total surveillance, hidden authority, and loss of freedom. Bentham’s original intent to limit abuse by exposing it was pushed aside. The design was seen less as a tool for accountability and more as a warning about state power.
This shift in meaning is essential. It shows how a single concept can be interpreted in opposite ways. Foucault focused on how visibility could be used against the public. Bentham concentrated on how it could be used to protect them. The same structure, viewed from different angles, tells two different stories.
Bentham believed institutions become more just when they are open. He didn’t claim that people in power would always act well, but he did think they were less likely to do harm if they were being watched. In his eyes, the Panopticon was a way to shine a light on what happened behind walls, not to hide it. Re-examining that idea today raises questions about how surveillance could serve accountability, not just control.
Surveillance Controlled by Power
Today, surveillance is widespread, but it is not shared equally. Most systems are designed to monitor regular people, not those in charge. Governments and large companies collect data on where people go, what they buy, who they talk to, and how they live. This is done through cameras in public spaces, phone tracking, search histories, and apps that run quietly in the background. These tools operate at scale, often with little public input.
Intelligence agencies use national security laws to gather large amounts of digital information. In many countries, oversight is minimal. Legal limits exist, but enforcement is inconsistent. At the same time, the companies that run digital platforms profit by collecting user behavior. Social media firms, e-commerce platforms, and data brokers gather information, sell it, and feed it into targeted advertising or other systems. The people providing the data rarely know where it ends up or how it’s used.
Meanwhile, those in power are protected by privacy, legal barriers, and institutional opacity. Decisions that affect millions are made behind closed doors. Contracts are signed without full disclosure. Records are withheld unless challenged. Surveillance is used to manage the public, not to question leadership. Even public agencies often resist efforts to make their internal processes visible.
This imbalance is not accidental. Systems of surveillance have been built to serve specific interests. They are designed to gather information where it is easy and to avoid it where it might cause trouble for those in charge. The result is a one-way mirror. The public is seen, tracked, and scored. Those in authority are protected by distance, complexity, and legal shields.
Any conversation about surveillance today must begin with that fact. It already exists. The problem is where it is pointed and who decides.
Our Current Reality: Surveillance Controlled by Power
Most surveillance systems today are managed by governments, intelligence agencies, and large technology companies. These organizations gather massive amounts of data on ordinary people, often without explicit consent or oversight. The tools include location tracking, search history, browsing activity, financial records, and audio or video surveillance. They are integrated into everyday devices and services, which makes opting out difficult.
Intelligence agencies operate with broad legal powers. They justify their actions through national security concerns, but their access often reaches far beyond threats. In many cases, these agencies collect data on domestic communications, and the rules that govern them are rarely updated or debated in public.
Big Tech companies run systems that collect even more personal data. Social media platforms, mobile apps, and online retailers track behavior constantly. This data is sold or shared with advertisers, marketers, or other firms without much transparency. People are assigned scores, placed into categories, and targeted with precision tools that respond to habits they may not even realize are being recorded.
At the same time, information about those in power is limited. Politicians can hide meetings. Corporations can seal records behind contracts and non-disclosure agreements. Public agencies often delay or deny information requests. The surveillance infrastructure flows in one direction: from the public to the powerful. This creates an uneven field where individuals are exposed and institutions are protected.
This design wasn’t created by accident. It reflects who controls the systems and what those systems are meant to serve. Surveillance has become a tool of management, not a method of accountability. Understanding that structure is the first step toward asking how it could work differently and whether it should.
Reversing the Gaze: A Framework for Democratic Surveillance
If surveillance cannot be removed from modern life, the question becomes how to use it fairly. Rather than point it at ordinary people, it could be directed toward those who manage public money, make policy, enforce laws, or hold office. The concept is simple: watching upward instead of downward.
This approach changes the purpose of observation. Instead of control, the goal becomes accountability. When officials know their actions are open to review, they may think twice before acting in their own interest. If public contracts are visible, meetings are recorded, and decisions are documented in real time, it becomes harder to hide fraud, neglect, or abuse of power.
This is not about creating fear. It’s about shifting responsibility. People in trusted roles should be subject to greater scrutiny. That scrutiny should not rely on leaks or investigations after the fact but on systems that track behavior as it happens. The tools already exist. The challenge is how to apply them with fairness and care.
A model of democratic surveillance gives people access to information that affects their lives. It reduces the distance between those with power and those without it. And it replaces secrecy with a standard: if you act on behalf of the public, you should be visible to them.
AI as a Monitoring Tool for Governance
Artificial intelligence is already being used to monitor public systems. In Brazil, a tool called Rosie was developed to track expense reports filed by politicians. It flagged irregular patterns and posted its findings online. The goal was to make questionable spending harder to ignore. Rosie became popular with voters and journalists, but some lawmakers pushed back. Still, the model showed how AI can sort through large datasets and highlight possible misconduct.
In Europe, similar efforts are underway. The EU’s anti-fraud office uses AI to process communications and financial records. It looks for signs of bid-rigging, collusion, or corruption in procurement. Countries like France and Romania have adopted Datacros, which detects fraud by scanning public records and contract data. These tools allow authorities to see patterns that would be difficult to find manually.
AI works by detecting statistical anomalies and linking information across sources. When used correctly, it can alert agencies or citizens to problems in public spending, hiring, or project oversight. But these systems must be subject to clear rules. Algorithms reflect the assumptions and data they’re built on. Without oversight, they can miss important context or create new risks.
To avoid that, the use of AI in public accountability must be transparent. People should know what systems are being used, what they look for, and how their findings are verified. Decisions based on AI output should not be final without review. AI can assist in public monitoring but cannot replace human judgment. When used carefully, it becomes a tool to help citizens see what’s happening in public offices, not to automate decisions but to highlight where questions should be asked.
Blockchain for Radical Transparency
Blockchain is often discussed in terms of cryptocurrencies, but its real value in governance lies in how it records data. A blockchain is a digital ledger that stores information in a way that cannot be changed without leaving a trace. Once data is entered, it becomes part of a permanent public record. This makes it helpful in tracking government activity that should be open to public review.
Several governments have started using blockchain to improve transparency. In Brazil, the federal government launched the Brazilian Blockchain Network, aimed at making public spending easier to verify. It allows institutions to track contracts, payments, and supply chains with shared access to tamper-proof records. In Vermont, city officials used blockchain to record property transactions, reducing the risk of altered land titles. In Colombia, blockchain pilots were used to issue land certificates and validate academic records.
These early programs point to broader possibilities. If government budgets were recorded on a public blockchain, citizens could monitor how money is spent. If voting records were recorded this way, anyone could verify election results. Procurement contracts could be logged in real time, making spotting irregularities or preventing insider deals easier.
Technology does not solve problems independently, but it changes how hard it is to hide them. With a transparent, shared activity record, government institutions would face more pressure to explain how they spend public resources. Blockchain would not remove the need for audits or journalism, but it would create a base layer of truth that is open to all, hard to change, and easy to trace.
IoT and AR for Real-Time Accountability
The Internet of Things (IoT) connects sensors, cameras, and devices to monitor environments in real time. This network is already used to manage infrastructure, utilities, and public services. These same tools could be used to track how government agencies perform and whether public promises are being met.
For example, cities use IoT sensors to monitor traffic, air quality, and waste systems. If these readings were made public, they could help residents hold officials accountable. If a mayor claims improvements in water quality, sensor data could confirm or contradict that. If road repairs are promised, vibration or GPS data could show whether potholes were actually fixed.
Augmented reality (AR) could make this information more accessible. With a mobile device or smart glasses, people could view data overlaid on the world around them. Pointing a phone at a public building might show that department’s budget usage or recent audit results. Scanning a public official’s name at a press event could bring up their voting record or campaign donations.
Police body cameras are one form of IoT that is already used in this way. When used properly, they record public encounters and help resolve disputes. Studies have shown that body cameras can reduce use-of-force incidents and complaints, especially when footage is reviewed promptly. These tools protect citizens and officers by keeping interactions grounded in recorded facts.
AR and IoT do not need to be intrusive to be useful. When paired with clear rules, they help turn accountability into something practical. Instead of waiting for reports, people could see public information as part of their daily lives. These systems won’t fix governance alone, but they make it harder to ignore how well public institutions are doing.
Addressing the Privacy Critique
Raising the idea of expanded surveillance, even for democratic oversight, brings real concerns. One of the most common is the risk of chilling effects. If people know they are being watched, they may hesitate to speak freely, explore new ideas, or challenge authority. There is also the risk that surveillance tools meant for public accountability could be turned against the population, especially in hands that don’t respect democratic norms.
These concerns are valid. Any system that tracks behavior must have strict limits, even for good reasons. Surveillance should never target private citizens without cause. It should not monitor personal messages, private locations, or choices unrelated to public responsibility.
To prevent misuse, safeguards need to be built in from the start. Surveillance logs should be public. Any access to sensitive systems should leave a record. Oversight boards, not tied to the agencies being watched, should review how data is collected and used. Most importantly, surveillance should apply only to those acting in a public capacity. Holding office or managing public funds should come with visibility, but private life should remain private.
The distinction is clear. People deserve privacy in their homes, relationships, and beliefs. Those who use public power should be open to public inspection. When focused in the right direction, transparency becomes a tool for justice rather than control. It helps build trust in institutions, not fear of them.
Conclusion
Bentham didn’t invent the Panopticon to control people. He built it to control power. His design made cruelty harder to hide not by trusting virtue, but by exposing authority to light. In his world, that meant prison guards. In ours, it means politicians, bureaucrats, lobbyists, CEOs anyone who acts in the name of the public but prefers to operate in private.
Surveillance is already everywhere. But it rarely climbs the ladder. It monitors workers, consumers, travelers, protesters not the ones signing contracts or writing laws. If technology is here to stay, the only question is whom it serves. Used right, it can flip the script. AI, blockchain, sensor networks, these aren’t threats by nature. They’re just mirrors. The danger lies in where they’re pointed.
Democracy doesn’t need less visibility. It needs it pointed upward. Surveillance won’t save us. But it might help us see who’s lying, who’s looting, and who’s writing the rules while pretending to follow them.
It’s not the watching that’s the problem. It’s who gets watched.
