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When I sit down to write a book, I do
not say to myself, I'm going to produce

work of art.

I write it because there is some lie
that I want to expose, some fact to

want to draw attention.

And my initial concern is to get a
hearing.

My starting point is always a feeling of
partisanship.

A sense of injustice.

Two and two.

Four. Again?

Four. Good.

There are people who will tell you the
answer's five.

Usually they're called governments.

Great leaders.

It becomes very important to them that
the people should believe that the

is five.

They'll tell you lies.

They'll torture you.

They'll kill you.

At the moment of death, you must still
insist that the answer is

four.

April 18th, 1984.

Nobody keeps a diary today because to do
so would be punishable by death.

I don't care anymore.

I found this old book by chance.

And I'm going to set down what I dare
not say aloud.

to anyone

this

in 1984 is london chief city of airstrip
one a province

of the state of oceania

From a very early age, perhaps the age
of five or six, I knew that when I grew

up, I should be a writer.

I had the lonely child's habit of making
up stories and holding conversations

with imaginary persons.

I knew that I had a facility with words
and a power of facing unpleasant facts.

And I felt that this created a sort of
private world.

in which I could get my own back for my
failure in everyday life.

I wanted to write enormous naturalistic
novels.

. .

.

. .

I do not think one can assess a writer's
motives without knowing something of

his early development.

His subject matter will be determined by
the age he lives in.

At least this is true in tumultuous
revolutionary ages like our own.

When I was not yet twenty, I went to
Burma, in the Indian Imperial Police.

In an outpost of empire like Burma, the
class question appeared at first sight

to have been shelved.

Most of the white men in Burma were not
of the type who in England would be

called gentlemen.

But they were white men.

in contradistinction to the other and
inferior class, the natives.

In the free air of England, that kind of
thing is not fully intelligible.

In order to hate imperialism, you have
got to be part of it.

But it is not possible to be part of
such a system without recognizing it as

unjustifiable tyranny.

Even the thicker -skinned Anglo -Indian
is aware of this.

Every native face he sees in the street
brings home to him his monstrous

intrusion.

But I was in the police, which is to say
that I was part of the actual machinery

of despotism.

When I came home on leave in 1927, I was
already half determined to throw

up my job, and one sniff of English air
decided me.

For five years, I had been part of an
oppressive system, and it had left me

a bad conscience.

Innumerable remembered faces, faces of
prisoners in the dock, of men waiting

in the condemned cells.

Of subordinates I had bullied, and aged
peasants I had snubbed. Of servants and

coolies I had hit with my fist in
moments of rage, haunted me intolerably.

No book is genuinely free from political
bias.

The opinion that art should have nothing
to do with politics is itself a

political attitude.

It reduced everything to the simple
theory that the oppressed are always

and the oppressors are always wrong.

A mistaken theory, but the natural
result of being one of the oppressors

yourself.

A society becomes totalitarian when its
structure becomes flagrantly artificial.

That is, when its ruling class has lost
its function, but succeeds in clinging

to power by force or fraud.

But to be corrupted by totalitarianism,
one does not have to live in a

totalitarian country.

Tonight I want to take a few minutes to
discuss a grave threat to peace.

The threat comes from Iraq.

It arises directly from the Iraqi
regime's own actions, its history of

aggression, and its drive toward an
arsenal of terror.

We are at war with the people of
Eurasia, the vile and ruthless

have committed countless atrocities and
who are guilty of every bestial crime a

human being can commit.

When Iraq finally admitted having these
weapons in 1995, the quantities

were vast.

Less than a teaspoon of dry anthrax, a
little bit about this amount. This kind

of thing happens everywhere, but it is
clearly likelier to lead to outright

falsification in societies where only
one opinion is permissible at any given

moment.

practiced by totalitarian states is not,
as is sometimes claimed, a temporary

expedient of the same nature as military
deception.

It is something integral to
totalitarianism, something that would

even if concentration camps and secret
police forces had ceased to be

Totalitarianism demands, in fact, The
continuous alteration of the past, and

the long run, probably demands a
disbelief in the very existence of

truth.

How many fingers am I holding up,
Winston?

Four. And if Big Brother were to say not
four, but five?

Then how many?

Four.

How many fingers, Winston?

Stop it.

Anything in a five.

No, no, Winston. Winston, that is no
use. You are lying. You still think you

four. How can I help what I see? Five.

Two and two do not always make four,
Winston. Sometimes they make five.

how many fingers am I holding up?

August 26th.

1946.

A few showers in the afternoon,
otherwise a beautiful day.

When the breeze drops, the midges were
so bad as to make it almost impossible

work. One is actually breathing them
into one's nostrils, and the irritation

maddening.

I was born into what you might describe
as the lower -upper middle class.

People in this class owned no land, but
they felt that they were landowners in

the sight of God and kept up a semi
-aristocratic outlook by going into the

professions and the fighting services
rather than into trade.

To belong to this class, when you were
at the 400 pound a year level, was a

queer business, for it meant that your
gentility was almost purely theoretical.

Small boys used to count the plum stones
on their plates and foretell their

destiny by chanting, Army, Navy, Church,
Medicine, Law.

Theoretically, you knew all about
servants and how to tip them.

although in practice you had one, at
most two, resident servants.

Theoretically, you knew how to wear your
clothes and how to order a dinner,

although in practice you could never
afford to go to a decent tailor or a

restaurant.

Theoretically, you knew how to shoot and
ride, although in practice you had no

horses to ride, not an inch of ground.

to shoot over.

It was this that explained the
attraction of India, more recently

Nigeria, etc., for the lower upper
middle class.

The people who went there as soldiers
and officials did not go there to make

money, for a soldier or an official does
not want money.

They went there because in India, with
cheap horses,

Free -shooting and hordes of black
servants.

It was so easy to play at being a
gentleman

This

is your cook named Heather

And this is

Juma

Houseboy. Too much.

Gentleman's up.

Come. To your house.

Under the capitalist system, in order
that England may live in comparative

comfort,

100 million Indians must live on the
verge of starvation.

The alternative is to throw the empire
overboard and reduce England to a cold

and unimportant little island where we
should all have to work very hard and

live mainly on herrings and potatoes.

The fact that has got to be faced is
that to abolish class distinctions means

abolishing a part of yourself.

Here am I, a typical member of the
middle class.

All my notions, notions of good and
evil, of pleasant and unpleasant,

of funny and serious, of ugly and
beautiful, are essentially

middle class notions.

Ward 3, Herrmeyer's Hospital, East
Kilbride, near Glasgow.

1st of January, 1948.

Dear Gwen, I believe Mr. Dick sent you a
line about my case.

He said I had a fairly extensive cavity
in the left lung, and also a small patch

at the top of the other lung.

The treatment they are giving me is to
put the left lung out of action, which

supposed to give it a better chance to
heal.

For the rest, I am still really very ill
and weak.

It is a nice hospital, and everyone is
extremely kind to me.

But I have, of course, done no work for
two or three months.

Some Eurasian prisoners, guilty of war
crimes, were to be hanged in the park

that evening, Winston remembered.

This happened about once a month and was
a popular spectacle.

Children always clamoured to be taken to
see it.

Why can't we go and see the hanging,
roared the boy in his huge voice.

Want to see the hanging, chanted the
little girl, still capering round.

The warders had formed in a rough circle
around the gallows.

And then, when the noose was fixed, the
prisoner began crying out on his god.

Minutes seemed to pass.

The steady, muffled crying from the
prisoner went on and on.

We looked at the lashed, hooded man on
the drop and listened to his cries.

Each cry another second of life.

Oh, kill him quickly. Get it over.

Stop that abominable noise.

Most people approve of capital
punishment.

But most people wouldn't do the
hangman's job.

They don't represent us. They need to
pay the ultimate price for their crime.

An example needs to be made.

Get in there.

Get the f*** in there.

Let's get them.

Sing them up. We can take that place.

And then do what?

They were peaceful people. These were
great people.

The crowd was unbelievable.

And I mentioned the word love, the love,
the love in the air. I've never seen

anything like it.

FBI operatives were organizing the
attack on the Capitol.

I don't believe they were Trump
supporters that did that. I think they

enticed by the FBI.

A totalitarian state is in effect a
theocracy, and its ruling caste,

in order to keep its position, has to be
thought of as infallible.

Congress has certified the results. I
don't want to say the election's over. I

just want to say Congress has certified
the results without saying the

election's over, okay?

My only goal was to ensure the integrity
of the vote.

My only goal was to ensure the integrity
of the vote.

Since, in practice, no one is
infallible, it is frequently necessary

rearrange past events in order to show
that this or that mistake was not made,

or that this or that imaginary triumph
actually happened. The Dominion voting

systems, the Smartmatic technology
software.

And the software that goes in other
computerized voting systems here as

not just Dominion, were created in
Venezuela.

You can tell he hasn't done anything
wrong.

Just by his demeanor. I mean, he would
be trying to hide things. Already, there

are countless people who think it's
scandalous to falsify a scientific

that would see nothing wrong in
falsifying a historical fact. Trump is

witnesses.

I don't care.

I'm with him to the finish.

He could stand on the front steps of the
White House and commit murder, and I'm

with him.

How do you explain all these charges?

How do you explain them? Well, they're
all made up.

They're all made up? Yep.

They're all made up.

So the election interference in Georgia,
Sidney Powell and Kenneth Cheesbrough,

who worked for Donald Trump.

As lawyers, they just pled guilty. I
don't believe that either.

You don't believe they pled guilty? No.

The friends of totalitarianism in this
country usually tend to argue that since

absolute truth is not attainable, a big
lie is no worse than a

little lie.

The list of Trump lies filled an entire
page of...

The New York Times. It includes only
what the Times calls demonstrably false

statements.

2nd of January, 1948.

Dear Julian, Thanks ever so for sending
the pen, which, as you see, I am using.

I think I'm getting a bit better.

I don't feel quite so death -like, and
I'm eating a lot more.

I can't show you the part -finished
novel.

I never show them to anybody, because
they're just a mess and don't have much

relationship to the final draft.

I always say a book doesn't exist until
it is finished.

Every major change in policy demands a
corresponding change of doctrine

and a revelation of prominent historical
figures.

If the leader says of such and such an
event, it never happened, well, it never

happened.

If he says that two and two are five,
well, two and two are five.

This prospect frightens me much more
than bombs, and that is not a frivolous

statement.

The life of Rosa Parks. This apparently
is too woke by the Republican

Party. Song of Solomon is unacceptable
to Republican politics.

40 % of banned books.

have reported are significantly
addressing and specifically addressing

issues.

When we talk about progressive values, I
can say what my progressive value is,

and that is freedom over fascism.

Let's say you take these books out of
the library.

What are you going to do with them?

You going to put them in the street?

Light them on fire?

Where are they going?

I don't have a clue, but I would burn
them.

From the totalitarian point of view,
history is something to be created

than learned.

This is what I will do to the growing
books when I become Secretary of State.

Ward 3, Hermeyers Hospital, 20th of
April, 1948.

Dear Julian, I'm a lot better, but I had
a bad fortnight with the secondary

effects of the streptomycin.

I'm still fearfully weak and thin, but
they seem pleased with my case, and I

think I may get out sometime during the
summer.

I'm longing to get up to Jura at any
rate.

and see how the farm work is going.

But I should have to be careful not to
do much.

The Goose Step is one of the most
horrible sights in the world.

It is simply an affirmation of naked
power.

In it is the vision of a boot crashing
down, on a face.

The goose step is not used in England
because the people in the street would

laugh.

First, I spent five years in an
unsuitable profession in Burma.

This increased my natural hatred of
authority.

The Spanish War and other events in 1936
and 1937 turned the scale,

and thereafter, I knew where I stood.

Those who want to take the floor, go
ahead.

We have to collectivize,

because many men have gone to the front,
they have no supplies, they have

nothing, and the fascists have left them
at the minimum. There is not enough

food for the people's neighbors.

We have to collectivize as soon as
possible.

Look for supplies and supply to the
front.

That's why our neighbors, our comrades
are on the front, fighting for us.

And that's why there are also the lands
of Don Julián. I want to tell you that

one thing, and I am very much in
agreement with that this be done, that

collectivized, that those lands be of
all.

I want to say here to

my colleague that it is very good that
he wants to work on his lands, but how

much better would it be if we worked on
them?

Yes,

but we need everything to be able to...

To get ahead in the revolution, because
the revolution has to be done right

away, right away.

Don't wait until tomorrow. But, José,
it's not only the question of the land.

have to make a new society where
everyone... One moment. Let's not talk

together. One moment.

What I want to say is that we have to
take risks, because what do we know?

Misery, hunger and despair.

Maybe they'll kill us, maybe fascism
will kill us again.

31st of July

1937. Dear Rainer, thanks so much for
your letter.

I was glad to hear from you.

We had an interesting but thoroughly
bloody time in Spain.

Of course, I would never have allowed
Eileen to come, nor probably gone

if I had foreseen the political
developments, especially the suppression

POM, the party in whose militia I was
serving.

It was a queer business.

We started off by being heroic defenders
of democracy and ended by slipping over

the border with the police panting on
our heels.

But though we ourselves got out all
right, nearly all our friends and

acquaintances are in jail and likely to
be there indefinitely, not actually

charged with anything, but suspected of
Trotskyism.

What I saw in Spain has given me a
horror of politics.

But what impressed me then, and has
impressed me ever since, is that

are believed in or disbelieved in solely
on grounds of political predilection.

Everyone believes in the atrocities of
the enemy and disbelieves in those of

own side without ever bothering to
examine the evidence.

Every line of serious work that I have
written since 1936 has been written

directly or indirectly against
totalitarianism and for democratic

as I understand it.

Revolution!

Animal Farm was the first book in which
I tried with full consciousness of what

I was doing to fuse political purpose
and artistic purpose.

into one whole.

Read it to me.

All animals are equal, but some animals
are more equal

than others.

More equal than others?

Bye.

Bye. Bye.

now devote itself to the making of
weapons to the building of walls to the

protection of ourselves

Winston tried to squeeze out some
childhood memory that should tell him

London had always been quite like this.

Were there always these vistas of
rotting 19th century houses?

Their sides shored up with bulks of
timber, their windows patched with

and their roofs with corrugated iron,
their crazy garden walls sagging in all

directions, and the bombed sites.

where the plaster dust swelled in the
air, and the willow herb straggled over

the heaps of rubble, and the places
where the bombs had cleared a large

and there had sprung up sordid colonies
of wooden dwellings, like chicken

houses.

But it was no use.

He could not remember.

Nothing remained of his childhood,
except a series of bright -lit tableaux

occurring against no background and
mostly unintelligible.

It is not easy for me to think of my
school days without seeming to breathe

whiff of something cold and evil
-smelling, a sort of compound of sweaty

stockings, dirty towels, faecal smells
blowing along corridors, forks with

old food between the prongs, neck of
mutton stew, and the banging doors of

lavatories and the echoing chamber pots
in the dormitories.

By the social standards that prevailed
about me, I was no good and could not be

any good.

But all the different kinds of virtue
seemed to be mysteriously interconnected

and to belong to much the same people.

It was not only money that mattered.

There were also strength, beauty, charm,
athleticism, and something

called guts or character.

which in reality meant the power to
impose your will on others.

I did not possess any of these
qualities.

I lived in a world of boys, gregarious
animals, questioning nothing, accepting

the law of the stronger and avenging
their own humiliations by passing them

to someone smaller.

There are five fingers there.

Do you see five fingers?

Yes

is a political age.

War, fascism, concentration camps,
rubber truncheons, atomic bombs

are what we daily think about, and
therefore, to a great extent, what we

about, even when we do not name them
openly.

We cannot help this.

When you are on a sinking ship, your
thoughts will be about sinking ships.

Barnhill, Isle of Jura, Argyleshire.

22nd of October, 1948.

Dear Fred, I shall finish the book Dio
Valente early in November, and I am

rather flinching from the job of typing
it because it is a very awkward thing to

do in bed where I still have to spend
half the time.

I can't send it away because it is an
unbelievably bad manuscript.

and no one could make head or tail of it
without explanation.

I think it is a good idea, but the
execution would have been better if I

written it under the influence of
tuberculosis.

I haven't definitely fixed on the title,
but I am hesitating between 1984

and The Last Man in Europe.

When I was 14 or 15, I was an odious
little snob, but no worse than other

of my own age and class.

I was very young, not much more than
six, when I first became aware of class

distinctions.

I think you look pretty smart.

You look like a gentleman.

I despised anyone who was not
describable as a gentleman.

But I also hated the hoggishly rich,
especially those who had grown rich too

recently. I look down on him because I
am upper class.

I look up to him because he is upper
class.

But I look down on him because he is
lower class.

I am middle class.

I know my place.

Hence, at the age of 17 or 18, I was
both a snob and a revolutionary.

I was against all authority, and I
loosely described myself as a socialist.

But I had not much grasp of what
socialism meant, and no notion that the

class were human beings.

We'll have no pissing in the corners.

Not allowed.

Frowned upon.

I knew nothing about working class

conditions. I had read the unemployment
figures, but I had no notion of what

they implied.

Above all, I did not know the essential
fact that respectable poverty is always

the worst.

The frightful doom of a decent working
man suddenly thrown on the streets after

a lifetime of steady work.

His agonized struggles against economic
laws, which he does not understand. The

disintegration of families.

the corroding sense of shame.

All this was outside the range of my
experience.

When I thought of poverty, I thought of
it in terms of brute starvation.

Therefore, my mind turned immediately
towards the extreme cases, the social

outcasts, tramps, beggars, criminals,
prostitutes. These were the lowest

of the low.

And these were the people with whom I
wanted to get in contact.

What I profoundly wanted at that time
was to find some way of getting out of

respectable world altogether.

I meditated upon it a great deal.

I even planned parts of it in detail.

How one could sell everything, give
everything away.

Change one's name and start out with no
money and nothing but the clothes one

stood up in.

But in real life, nobody ever does that
kind of thing.

As Syme had done earlier, Winston had
taken up his spoon.

and was dabbling in the pale -coloured
gravy that dribbled across the table,

drawing a long streak of it out into a
pattern.

He meditated resentfully on the physical
texture of life.

You discover what it is like to be
hungry, with bread and margarine in your

belly. You go out and look into the shop
windows.

Everywhere there is food insulting you
in huge, wasteful piles.

Whole dead pigs, baskets of hot loaves,
great yellow blocks of butter,

strings of sausages, mountains of
potatoes.

Vast, greer cheese -like grindstones.

A snivelling self -pity comes over you
at the sight of so much food.

You plan to grab a loaf and run,
swallowing it before they catch you.

And you refrain from pure funk.

You discover the boredom which is
inseparable from poverty, the times when

have nothing to do, and being underfed
can interest yourself in nothing.

For half a day at a time, you lie on
your bed, feeling like the jeune

in Baudelaire's poem.

Only food could rouse you.

You discover that a man who has gone
even a week on bread and margarine is

man any longer.

Only a belly with a few accessory
organs.

The top 1 % that controlled 90 % of the
wealth had two major

political parties doing their bidding
for them. And the other 99 % had no

political party.

Beggars do not work, it is said.

But then, what is work?

A navvy works by swinging a pick.

An accountant works by adding up
figures.

A beggar works by standing out of doors,
in all weathers, and getting varicose

veins, chronic bronchitis, etc.

It is a trade like any other.

Quite useless, of course.

But then many reputable trades are quite
useless.

And as a social type, a beggar compares
well with scores of others.

He is honest compared with the sellers
of most patent medicines.

High -minded compared with a Sunday
newspaper proprietor.

A beggar, looked at realistically, is
simply a businessman getting his

living like other businessmen.

in the way that comes to hand.

He has not, more than most modern
people, sold his honour.

He has merely made the mistake of
choosing a trade at which it is

grow rich.

The underlying fact was that the whole
position of the moneyed class had long

ceased to be justifiable.

The existence of these people was by any
standard unjustifiable.

They were simply parasites, less useful
to society than if fleas are to a dog.

The British ruling class could not admit
to themselves that their usefulness was

at an end.

It was not possible for them to turn
themselves into mere bandits like the

American millionaires.

Clearly, there was only one escape for
them.

Into stupidity.

The Ministry of Peace is happy to report
that thanks to the vigilance of our

gallant interceptors...

No Eurasian rocket bomb was able to
reach targets of any importance.

We continue now to our regular goal
call.

There are parts in southern China where
smart cameras placed around the

intersection will recognize who you are.

You can have your face covered, or you
could be obscured. These systems are

very, very smart.

They can recognize you by gait, by
posture, by how you're walking.

And so if you've caused an infraction,
your face gets thrown up on a digital

billboard at that intersection, along
with your name and where you work. And

that information is transmitted to your
employers and to your family members.

he would consider human rights.

Much of the technology that threatens
our freedom and our dignity in the near

-term future is being developed by
companies in the business of capturing

selling our data and our attention to
advertisers and others.

wear their identification badges in the
evening.

Don't forget a game.

If the people in power are using these
algorithms to quietly watch

us, to judge us, and to nudge us, to
predict and identify the troublemakers

the rebels, that authoritarianism will
envelop us like a spider's web.

And we may not even know we're in it.

The surveillance capitalists have tried
to get us to believe that their

practices are the inevitable outgrowth
of digital technologies.

So that's why I believe that the future
is private.

This is the next chapter for our
services.

What do you prefer?

Being safer when you wake up in the
morning and go to the street or not

or, you know, analyzing by AI system?

I want to be safer. What do you prefer?

What do you prefer?

What do you prefer?

What do you prefer?

I want to be safer.

Safer.

Surveillance is okay.

If you don't mind, I want to be... I
want to surveil. I want surveillance of

these people that are coming in. The
Trojan horse. I want to know who the

they are.

You don't have to have done anything
wrong.

You simply have to eventually fall under
suspicion from somebody, even by a

wrong call.

And then they can use the system to go
back in time and scrutinize every

decision you've ever made, every friend
you've ever discussed something with,

and attack you on that basis to sort of
derive suspicion from an innocent life

and paint anyone in the context of a
wrongdoer.

It should be that when we make things
more productive, when we greatly

productivity, it helps everybody, but
there's the worry that it might just

the rich.

The new Model 3 generative android from
Funky is a fully autonomous humanoid

robot with features never before seen in
the consumer market. We are

increasingly trapped in a world of no
escape, and even if we want to make a

choice, we can't.

It would probably not be beyond human
ingenuity to write books by machinery,

a sort of mechanising process can
already be seen at work in the film and

in publicity and propaganda, and in the
lower reaches of journalism.

Even so, what they write is merely a
kind of raw material to be chopped into

shape by producers and censors.

Books would be planned in their broad
lines by bureaucrats, and would pass

through so many hands that when
finished, they would be no more an

product than a Ford car at the end of
the assembly line.

It goes without saying that anything so
produced would be rubbish.

At present, we know only that the
imagination, like certain wild animals,

not breed in captivity.

2nd of December, 1942.

Dear George Woodcock, After the ethics
of broadcasting, and in general letting

oneself be used by the British governing
class, it's of little value to argue

about it.

But for heaven's sake, don't think I
don't see how they are using me.

I doubt whether I shall stay in this job
very much longer.

But while here...

I consider I have kept our propaganda
slightly less disgusting than it might

otherwise have been.

The Tribune, 222, London Western Central
2, 14th of July, 1944.

Dear John Murray, I am smothered under
work.

And also I've been bombed out.

And we have a very young baby we
adopted.

A three -week -old boy who Eileen and I
christened Richard Horatio Blair.

All of which adds to one's work.

Life is pretty full now.

What a wonderful thing to have a kid of
one's own.

I've always wanted one so.

This is the Pacific Service from London
sending you all greetings and wishing

the best of luck to those of you
listening who are serving in our armed

on sea, land or in the air and in the
merchant neighbourhood.

BBC, 24th of September, 1943.

Dear Mr Rushbrook Williams, in
confirmation of what I said to you

private, I want to tender my resignation
from the BBC.

I am not leaving because of any
disagreement with BBC policy.

On the contrary, I feel that I have been
treated with the greatest generosity

and allowed very great latitude.

I am tendering my resignation because
for some time past I have been conscious

that I was wasting my own time and the
public money.

I feel that by going back to my normal
work of writing and journalism, I could

be more useful than I am at present.

Hotel Sclebe, Rue Sclebe, Paris 9th,
13th of April, 1945.

Dear Tony, I don't know whether you will
have heard from some other source about

what has happened.

Eileen is dead.

It was the most horrible thing to
happen, because she had had five really

miserable years of bad health and
overwork, and things were just beginning

get better.

But it was terribly sad that she should
die when she had become so devoted to

Richard and was making such a good job
of his upbringing.

Richard, I am glad to say, is very well
and for the moment is provided for.

But for a moment, he did not look at her
body.

His eyes were anchored by the freckled
face with its faint, bold smile.

He knelt down before her and took her
hands in his.

Have you done this before?

Of course.

Hundreds of times.

With party members?

Yes. In our party members?

Not with those bastards.

There was plenty who would.

His heart leapt.

In the old days, he thought, a man
looked at a girl's body and saw that it

desirable, and that was the end of the
story.

But you could not have pure love or pure
lust nowadays.

No emotion was pure.

because everything was mixed up with
fear and hatred.

Their embrace had been a battle, the
climax, a victory.

It was a blow struck against the party.

It was a political act.

In the past, at any rate throughout the
Protestant centuries,

The idea of rebellion and the idea of
intellectual integrity were mixed up.

A heretic, political, moral, religious
or aesthetic, was one who refused

to outrage his own conscience.

His outlook was summed up in the words
of the revivalist hymn.

Dare to be a Daniel.

Dare to stand alone.

Dare to have a purpose firm.

Dare to make it known.

To bring this hymn up to date, one would
have to add a don't at the beginning of

each line.

When I met Orwell, the author of the
essays, I began to appreciate

his extraordinary lucidity.

At the end of the day, it was because of
the time of politics that he hated

these totalitarian regimes, which are,
at the end of the day, the total

politicization of everything.

And because of the time of politics, he
threw himself against these regimes.

Daring to stand alone is ideologically
criminal as well as practically

dangerous.

The idea of intellectual liberty is
under attack from two directions.

On the one side are its theoretical
enemies, the apologists of

Jamal Khashoggi was a Saudi journalist
and an outspoken critic of his country's

government. CNN can now reveal Jamal
Khashoggi's last words.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

The transcript records many voices and
noises. Then says, scream from Jamal.

Again, scream. Then, gasping.

Noises are identified as sore and
cutting.

and on the other, its immediate
practical enemies, monopoly and

which are actively interested in
maintaining the status quo, and

preventing the common man from becoming
too intelligent.

The independence of the writer and the
artist is eaten away by vague economic

forces. And at the same time, it is
undermined by those who should be its

defenders.

We falsely think of our country as a
democracy when it has evolved into a

mediocracy, where a media that is
supposed to check political abuse is

the political abuse.

This is extremely dangerous to our
democracy.

Political writing in our time consists
almost entirely of prefabricated

bolted together like the pieces of a
child's Meccano set.

dangerous this is extremely dangerous
this is extremely dangerous dangerous

democracy democracy we live in the
greatest country in the world the

nation history mankind the strongest
freest greatest country the greatest

care the greatest universities the
greatest schools the greatest rise of

and opportunity the single greatest
nation in the history of all mankind the

greatest country ever If we're going to
talk about the elite media debate, then

it is still controlled by the corporate
owners and the corporate sponsors who,

after all, provide the revenue to keep
those machines going, to keep those TV

shows on the air and those radio shows
in those papers.

The journalist is unfree and is
conscious of unfreedom when he is forced

to write lies or suppress what seems to
him important news.

What have you got there, Smith?

This photograph was between the pages of
the Gazette. What photograph?

Jones and Rutherford. They confessed to
aiding the underground and being in

Eurasia during a week.

But here it says... What are you talking
about, Smith?

I don't see any photograph.

I think it's very difficult to avoid
going to that pre -prepared thing that

you've got that's got a quote in it,
that's got a name in it, that's got

background information in it. It's fed
to you to make it easy for you to tell

that way. So what we really require is
something countervailing, something on

the other side.

to dig out just that information, that
that powerful entity, which might be the

state or might be a private corporation,
that they don't want you to hear.

We start with that huge search, the race
to save five people who are on board a

submersible.

Everything in our age conspires to turn
the writer and

every other kind of artist as well into
a minor official.

working on themes handed down from above
and never telling what seems to him the

whole of the truth.

What the media does is trivialize what
goes on, sensationalizes it, makes it

entertainment, rather than saying, look,
the function of the media is to educate

you to live in a democracy, which is
pretty serious stuff.

Right, there are 741 no -go zones
throughout France, and they're located

ghettos that are called les banlieues.

I've been to Afghanistan, Iraq, and
Kashmir, India, and at times it felt

Like that.

Francois Macron.

Emmanuel. Emmanuel or Francois. It seems
like every French person, I think their

first name is Francois. Maybe he'll
change his name.

Francois.

To write in plain, vigorous language,
one has to think fearlessly.

And if one thinks fearlessly, one cannot
be politically orthodox.

It was you.

It was you.

that privatized a large chunk of the
health service, and you're lying, and

you're lying.

I

think

your fake eyelashes are messing up the
situation.

We have a situation in which a
significant percentage of the population

vote, doesn't care about the issues.

is tuned out entirely.

It's what we call depoliticized.

In fact, we have a rate of
depoliticization in the United States

a tyrant like in Indonesia envious. How
can I get one of these vegged out

populations? I say the fact is that I've
done more for the black community than

any president since Abraham Lincoln. I
say it. Nobody can dispute it.

People listen when I speak.

Black people.

Believe me, I've studied it. I've seen
it. And it's incredible.

Black, your physical strength is
unmatched.

You have this charm. Black people
believe me. Jazz, soul, Rosa Parks,

Cassius Clay Legends, winners, the best.

And you know what?

Black women.

I love black. Black women, they make me
so hungry.

People listen when I speak. Hungry for
gumbo.

Nobody does it better.

The mugshot, we've all seen the mugshot.

And you know who embraced it more than
anybody else? The black population. It's

incredible. You see black people walking
around with my mugshot.

This kind of thing is frightening to me
because it often gives me the feeling

that the very concept of objective truth
is fading out of this world.

An atom bomb exploded in our information
ecosystem because social media turned

our world upside down, spreading lies
faster than facts, while

amplifying fear and anger, fueling
hatred by design

for profit.

Do you affirm the testimony you're about
to give before the committee will be

the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth, so help you God.

We very much believe that this content
is disgusting and that that behavior

is disgusting and reprehensible. We
provide in -app reporting tools for the

people who are being harassed. or who
have been shared inappropriate sexual

content can report it in the case of
harassment or sexual content.

You announced recently that the official
policy of Facebook now allows

politicians to pay to spread
disinformation.

Well, could I pay to target
predominantly black zip codes and

incorrect election date?

No, Congresswoman, you couldn't. We
have, even for these policies around...

The newsworthiness of content that
politicians say and the general

that I believe that... But you said
you're not going to fact check my ads.

We have, if anyone, including a
politician, is saying things that can

that is calling for violence or could
risk imminent physical harm or voter or

census suppression when we roll out the
census suppression policy.

We will take that content down. So would
I be able to run advertisements on

Facebook targeting Republicans in
primary saying that they voted for the

New Deal?

I mean, if you're not fact -checking
political advertisements, I'm just

to understand the bounds here.

What's their game?

I don't know the answer to that off the
top of my head. You don't know if I'll

be able to do that. Can you explain why
you've named The Daily Caller a

publication well -documented with ties
to white supremacists as an official

-checker for Facebook?

Congresswoman, sure.

We actually don't appoint the
independent fact -checkers. They go

independent organization called the
Independent Fact -Checking Network that

a rigorous standard for who they allow
to serve as a fact -checker.

So you would say that white supremacist
-tied publications meet

a rigorous standard for fact -checking?

Because of deepfakes, you can't trust
your eyes and ears.

Instead of the facts, the
inshittification and shitification of

internet is in full bloom.

More trash, more propaganda, more
information operations that push our

emotional buttons. We will have to
struggle harder for agency,

for independent thought.

And it's not just the tech companies
that abdicated responsibility for

protecting us. It's also democratic
governments like the United States.

Tech is the least regulated industry
around the world.

Barn Hill, Isle of Jura, Argyllshire,
28th of November, 1948.

Dear Gwen, all is well here, and Richard
is bursting with energy.

He goes out fishing with the others now,
and sometimes catches quite a lot of

fish. The weather just lately has been
very nice.

Beautiful, still, sunny days, and not at
all cold. But I hardly ever go out of

doors because the smallest exertion
upsets me.

The pig has grown to a stupendous size
and goes to the butcher next week. We

all longing to get rid of him as he is
so destructive and greedy, even gets

the kitchen sometimes.

I have finished my book, which I had
been messing about with since some time

1947.

Yours, George.

For the love of God.

The mother is a woman, the father is a
man.

April 4th, 1984.

Last night to the flicks. All war films.

One very good one.

Of a ship full of refugees being bombed
somewhere in the Mediterranean.

Audience much amused by shots of a great
huge fat man trying to swim away with a

helicopter after him.

Then you saw a lifeboat full of
children.

with a helicopter hovering over it.

There was a middle -aged woman, might
have been a Jewess, sitting up in the

with a little boy, about three years old
in her arms.

Then the helicopter planted a 20 -kilo
bomb in among them.

Terrific flash, and the boat went all to
Mount Wood.

Then there was a wonderful shot of a
child's arm.

going up, up, up, right up into the air.

A helicopter with a camera in its nose
must have followed it up.

There was a lot of applause from the
party seats.

Winston stops writing, partly because he
was suffering from cramp.

Lord, a piece of work is the pursuit of
truth.

Don't be a writer, Richard, whatever you
do.

Be a farmer.

Grow things.

Keep goats.

Our civilization is decadent, and our
language so the argument runs.

must inevitably share in the general
collapse.

The words democracy, socialism, freedom,
patriotic,

realistic, justice, have each of them
several different meanings which

cannot be reconciled with one another.

But if thought corrupts language,
language can also corrupt thought.

Here's the truth.

Israel seeks peace.

Israel yearns for peace.

Israel has made peace and will make
peace again.

Political language is designed to make
lies sound truthful and murder

respectable.

Barnhill, Isle of Jura, 22nd of October,
1948.

Dear Fred, I have just had Sartre's book
on antisemitism.

which you published to review.

I think Sartre is a bag of wind, and I'm
going to give him a good boot.

The less talk there is about the Jew or
the anti -Semite as a species of animal

different from ourselves, the better.

At the start of 2024, Google cut 1 ,000
jobs.

Why? Pichai says it's about removing
layers to simplify execution.

Tesla, we're told the company will lay
off over 10 % of its workforce.

UPS announced it will lay off 12 ,000
employees.

The practice of stack ranking employees
might be making a comeback in Silicon

Valley. The layoffs are already piling
up this year.

The layoffs in technology just keep
coming. The latest, Google cutting

of jobs.

Okay, it's one thing to do that, to
decide that at a high level. Then the

question is, how do you execute that as
compassionately as possible? And there's

no good way.

There's no perfect way, for sure. And
it's going to be tough no matter what.

as a leadership team here, we've
certainly spent a lot of time just

okay, what is the most compassionate way
that we can do this?

From where Winston stood, it was just
possible to read, picked out on its

face in elegant lettering, the three
slogans of the party.

Freedom is slavery.

War is peace.

Ignorance is strength.

Again, how many fingers?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Four, five, six.

In all honesty, I don't know.

of February 1949.

Dear Julian, I wonder how you and your
family are getting on.

I have been in this place about a month.

I think I told you last time I wrote
that I had been feeling very bad again.

Richard is getting on for five now and
is enormous and very healthy, though

still not interested in learning his
letters.

I suppose this coming winter...

He will have to start going to school,
which he is certain to enjoy, as he is

very gregarious.

Cranham, 8th of April.

1949. Dear Richard, don't depress the
others too much with this, but the fact

I am in a bad way at present.

They are going to try streptomycin
again.

If things go badly, of course we'll hope
they won't, but one must be prepared

for the worst.

I'll ask you to bring little Richard to
see me, before I get too frightening an

appearance.

Cranham, Gloucester, 22nd of August,
1949.

Dear Fred, could you please send one
copy each of Burmese Days and Coming Up

Air to Sonia Brownell, Care of Horizon.

As I warned you I might do, I intend
getting married again.

To Sonia.

When I am once again in the land of the
living.

If I ever am, I suppose everyone will be
horrified.

But apart from other considerations, I
really think I should stay alive longer

if I were married.

One, two.

One, two.

One, two.

One...

6079 Smith W?

Yes, you.

Bend lower.

Winston wrenched his body out of bed,
naked.

The physical jerks would begin in three
minutes.

The next moment, he was doubled up by a
violent coughing fit, which nearly

always attacked him soon after waking
up.

It emptied his lungs so completely that
he could only begin breathing again by

lying on his back.

and taking a series of deep gasps.

Dear Francis A. Henson of the United
Automobile Workers, my recent novel

is not intended as an attack on
socialism or on the British Labour

which I am a supporter.

but as a show -up of the perversions to
which a centralized economy is liable

and which have already been partly
realized in communism and fascism.

I do not believe that the kind of
society I describe necessarily will

but I believe that something resembling
it could arrive.

And I have tried to draw these ideas out
to their logical consequences.

The scene of the book, is laid in
Britain in order to emphasize that the

-speaking races are not innately better
than anyone else, and that

totalitarianism, if not fought against,
could triumph anywhere.

We are the dead.

We are the dead.

exactly where you are. Make no move
until you are ordered.

Don't resist.

Stand in the middle of the room.

Do not touch one another.

Take the woman.

No, don't let her take me!

No! No!

No!

I warned you it wouldn't be as peaceful
here as you would like.

Nothing is hidden from the thought
police.

How does one man assert his power over
another, Winston?

Winston thought.

By making him suffer, he said.

Exactly. By making him suffer.

Obedience is not enough.

Unless he is suffering.

How can you be sure that he is obeying
your will?

and not his own.

Power is in inflicting pain and
humiliation.

Power is in tearing human minds to
pieces and putting them together again

shapes of your own choosing.

Not to me.

Not to me.

If you want a vision of the future,
Winston, imagine a boot stamping on a

face forever.

Do it to her.

Do it to Julia.

I don't care what you do to her, but do
it to her.

Tear her face off and do it to Julia,
not to me.

Do you begin to see, then, what kind of
world we are creating?

All we have done is to advance to a
point at which we could make a real

improvement in human life.

But we shan't do it without the
recognition that common decency is

My chief hope for the future is that the
common people have never parted company

with their moral code.

I betrayed you.

I betrayed you.

I told them all about you.

Yes, I told them about you too.

I ask only for you to accept my love of
our leader.

I love Big.

John? Run with Big Brother!

Run with Big Brother!

Run with Big Brother!

Run with Big Brother!

Run with Big Brother!

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the
next president of the United States,

President Donald J.

Trump.

The greatest fear that I have regarding
the outcome for America of these

disclosures is that nothing will change.

People will see in the media all of
these disclosures. They'll know the

government is going to grant themselves
powers unilaterally to

create greater control over American
society and global society.

But they won't be willing to take the
risks necessary to stand up and

fight to change things, to force their
representatives to actually take a stand

in their interests.

In four years, you don't have to vote
again. We'll have it fixed so good

not going to have to vote.

How do we solve collective action
problems?

We solve them with democracy.

So there is one thing that surveillance
capitalists fear.

It may not be me as an individual or you
as an individual or your son or

daughter as an individual.

But what they fear is all of us
mobilized together now.

If there is hope, wrote Winston, it lies
in the proles.

If there was hope, it must lie.

in the proles.

Because only there, in those swarming,
disregarded masses, 85 %

of the population of Oceania could the
force to destroy the party ever be

generated.

The party could not be overthrown from
within.

University College Hospital.

How did you sleep?

7 to 7 .30 a .m.

Temperature taken.

7 .30 to 8 .00.

Planket bath.

Back rubbed.

10 .30.

Ward maid comes to the suite room.

6 .45.

Dinner.

10.

Temperature taken.

A drink of some sort.

10 .30 about.

Bed tipped.

And light put out.

Shortly after.

I'm done with you.

You want to be safe.

What do you prefer?

To be safe or to be free?

I am watching you.

Watching you.

You know I love you, you know that I
love you, and this is for your

safety.

need to think. You don't need to worry,
worry.

You want to be safe, but I'm here. I'm
here for you.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm here for you.

you prefer so I am watching you watching
you

cause I love you and I want