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Many of you have likely read George Orwell’s dystopian masterpiece “1984,”  and though I usually despise clichés, I acknowledge that in my most recent reading of the novel I found myself thinking like many others. “1984” is horrifyingly relevant for the present day and possesses the rare ability, as great novels do, to transpose itself, to exist simultaneously at all times while existing independent of time itself. This, I repeat, is the function of all great books. 

“1984,” undoubtedly a great novel, makes it necessary reading. The aspect I found most chilling about the book was the complete and utter destruction of the self from an external power. Oceania (or Big Brother) in “1984” is the epitome of totalitarianism, and it prides itself on the total subordination of its citizens (or subjects). 

Throughout the book, Winston Smith, Orwell’s everyman, represents how “normal people” are forced under the guide of indistinct manipulation to conform to every wish and desire Big Brother can generate. The masses cannot know otherwise, only goodthink–which in Newspeak (the official language of Oceania), roughly translates to orthodoxy–is permissible. Notice the subtlety. Orthodoxy doesn’t necessarily imply goodness. Yet the whole point of Newspeak is to constrict speech so as to make it impossible for heretical thoughts to be produced – after all, if you do not have maximum access to language, how can you mount a defense for yourself? How can you challenge external things when you have no way to articulate it? To think a “wrong” thought is thoughtcrime and to survive you must cancel it out (crimestop) and convince yourself that you believe something different and often contradictory (doublethink). Any thought, even one born of instinctive curiosity, is to be totally and completely suppressed forever. 

How does Big Brother maintain this system of control? Do the masses not attempt to revolt? The low-class citizenry in “1984” are referred to as the “Proles,” and Big Brother keeps these people in line (the majority population) by loosening their control over them. Instead of being distracted with oppression, the Proles work tirelessly and are distracted with endless entertainment. Thus, they are effectively a non-issue (sound familiar?). 

Party members, on the contrary, are hermetically sealed within the confines of Party control. Every move and utterance they make is under close scrutiny, even in the most private parts of their home. The goal is to enforce goodthink and, over time, to contort one’s mind to the extent they trust Big Brother’s instincts over their own. It is not simply maintaining an allegiance; it’s about believing in Big Brother’s omnipotence with every fiber of your being.

As I stated before, this is the ugliest part of the book. One might wait for a silver-lining, a breakthrough where Big Brother’s control is challenged and overturned to the masses; however, this time never comes. This bottled anxiety that buries itself in your shoulders while you read is what I believe Orwell intended for. It represents the pervasiveness of totalitarianism.

The dialectic between Winston and O’Brien, for example, shines a brighter light on what this pervasiveness looks like. To fully control a human being, Orwell describes that there is always an upper-limit of pain one cannot possibly bear, and Big Brother seizes on your most animalistic impulse to show how you never previously felt confident in your assumptions or convictions about the world. In the case of the novel, Winston ends up betraying his storied love with Julia, and it incapacitates his ability to ever love again.

I do not wish to give any more of the book away or belabor this point any more than I have. Read the following quote from O’Brien (Party Member) when he is torturing Winston and it will explain further what I am attempting to convey: 

“Never again will you be capable of love, or friendship, or joy of living, or laughter, or curiosity, or courage, or integrity. You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty, and then we shall fill you with ourselves.”

Terrible, right? What’s worse is that while you read “1984,” you will feel welling up inside of you this dark and twisted suspicion that our lives are eerily similar to the one that Winston endures. Of course, we do not have telescreens embedded in the walls of our homes (only televisions), but we are distracted endlessly (such as the Proles are) by entertainment and spectacle (now in our pockets) and are becoming more and more detached from reality everyday. 

While political engagement is increasing, I would argue awareness is at its lowest. Consider how people in “1984” gather in protest, advance with genuine rage, and yet have no clue what they are talking about. They only respond to Party propaganda. Does this not also sound strangely familiar?

Let’s close with another quote from O’Brien, describing how the future will be forever anti-human:

“There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always— do not forget this, Winston— always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face— forever.”

Rating: 9/10