New England, with its rich history of progressive politics and intellectualism, might seem an unlikely candidate for comparison to the dystopian society of George Orwell’s 1984. Yet, certain contemporary events in the region reveal unsettling parallels to the novel’s themes of surveillance, authoritarian control, and the manipulation of truth. In Orwell’s Oceania, the Party exerts absolute power by rewriting history and silencing dissent, creating a reality where citizens are perpetually monitored and coerced into conformity. Similarly, in New England, political and social dynamics occasionally reflect a creeping erosion of individual freedoms under the guise of moral superiority or public safety. The region’s strong Democratic leanings and cultural emphasis on collective welfare can, at times, morph into a rigid orthodoxy reminiscent of the Party’s ideological stranglehold, where dissenters are ostracized and alternative viewpoints are suppressed through social pressure or institutional power. This political structure, with its blend of progressive zeal and centralized control, could aptly be dubbed NEWINGSOC—New England’s own version of Orwell’s English Socialism—highlighting the eerie similarities to the novel’s oppressive regime.
 

A striking example of this dystopian mirror emerges in Boston, where the mayor’s defense of policies that appear lenient toward violent crime echoes the Party’s manipulation of justice in 1984. In recent years, debates over criminal justice reform have led to controversial stances, such as downplaying the severity of knife-wielding criminals or prioritizing rehabilitation over punishment. While rooted in progressive ideals, this approach can resemble the Party’s tactic of redefining truth to suit its narrative—here, framing dangerous individuals as misunderstood victims rather than threats. In 1984, the Party excuses atrocities by altering records and public perception; in Boston, critics argue that soft-on-crime policies distort reality, endangering citizens while claiming moral high ground. This disconnect between official rhetoric and lived experience fosters a sense of distrust and surveillance-like tension, as residents feel their concerns are dismissed by an unaccountable elite—an elite that operates under the banner of NEWINGSOC, enforcing its vision with an almost ideological purity.

Meanwhile, Vice President JD Vance’s visit to Vermont in March 2025, met with organized hate campaigns and protests, illustrates another Orwellian parallel: the persecution of individuals for their beliefs. In 1984, Winston Smith faces relentless torment for questioning the Party, his every move scrutinized by a hostile populace conditioned to hate nonconformity. Vance, a polarizing figure due to his conservative views and ties to the Trump administration, encountered over a thousand protesters in Vermont’s Mad River Valley, some bearing pro-Palestinian symbols and others decrying his policies on immigration and LGBTQ+ rights. This organized opposition, while framed as grassroots resistance, mirrors the Party’s use of mobs to enforce ideological purity, targeting Vance and his family as symbols of dissent against New England’s progressive consensus. The intensity of the backlash—complete with public shaming and calls for exclusion—evokes the dystopian erasure of individuality, where dissenters are not merely debated but demonized, leaving little room for dialogue in a region that prides itself on tolerance. Under NEWINGSOC, such conformity is not just encouraged but demanded, casting a shadow over the region’s democratic ideals.