George Orwell’s 1984, published in 1949, is a harrowing exploration of totalitarianism’s corrosive power over truth, freedom, and human dignity. Set in a dystopian future where individuality is extinguished, history is rewritten daily, and the state enforces absolute conformity through fear and manipulation, the novel remains a chilling prophecy of authoritarianism’s potential to distort reality and annihilate the human spirit. Written in the shadow of Stalinism and the rise of fascism, Orwell’s work transcends its mid-20th-century context, offering timeless warnings about surveillance, propaganda, and the fragility of truth in the face of unchecked power.
The novel unfolds in Oceania, one of three superstates locked in perpetual war for global dominance. Oceania is governed by the Party, a regime led by the omnipresent yet elusive figure of Big Brother, whose image—a stern face with the caption “BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU”—stares from posters plastered on every street. The Party’s grip on power is maintained through three paradoxical slogans: “War is Peace,” “Freedom is Slavery,” and “Ignorance is Strength.” These contradictions are not mere rhetoric but tools to dismantle critical thought, forcing citizens to accept absurdities as truths.
Life in Oceania is a relentless assault on autonomy. The Party surveils citizens through telescreens—devices that broadcast propaganda while monitoring every word and gesture—and the Thought Police, who punish even the faintest hint of dissent. Privacy is nonexistent; even facial expressions are policed, as “facecrime” (inadvertently revealing disloyalty) can lead to arrest. The Party’s control extends to language itself through Newspeak, a stripped-down dialect designed to eliminate rebellious ideas by eradicating words like “freedom” or “justice.” As Syme, a linguist working on the Newspeak dictionary, remarks: “In the end, thoughtcrime will be literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it.”
At the heart of this nightmare is Winston Smith, a 39-year-old Party member who works at the Ministry of Truth, tasked with rewriting historical records to align with the Party’s ever-shifting narratives. Winston’s job—erasing “unpersons” from photographs and altering newspaper archives—symbolizes the Party’s ultimate goal: to dominate not just the present, but the past. “Who controls the past controls the future,” the Party declares. “Who controls the present controls the past.”
Winston, though outwardly compliant, nurses a quiet rebellion. He harbors memories of a time before the Party’s rule and clings to fragments of forbidden knowledge, such as the existence of a resistance group called the Brotherhood. His hatred of the Party crystallizes when he begins a secret diary, an act of treason punishable by death. In the diary, he writes: “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.” This simple assertion of objective truth becomes a rallying cry against the Party’s doctrine that reality is whatever the Party decrees.
Winston’s defiance deepens when he embarks on a clandestine affair with Julia, a younger Party member who outwardly embodies loyalty but secretly loathes the regime. Their relationship, conducted in hidden corners of the city and a rented room above an antique shop, becomes a sanctuary of intimacy and rebellion. For Winston, Julia represents not just desire, but hope—a belief that individual connection can resist the Party’s dehumanizing machinery. “We are the dead,” Julia whispers, to which Winston replies, “We are not dead yet.”
Their rebellion takes a dangerous turn when they trust O’Brien, an Inner Party member Winston mistakenly believes is part of the Brotherhood. O’Brien, feigning sympathy, gifts Winston a copy of The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, a banned text attributed to the Brotherhood’s leader, Emmanuel Goldstein. The book, likely written by the Party itself as a trap, dissects the Party’s strategies: perpetual war to consume resources and maintain poverty, the use of fear to unify the masses, and the eradication of language and logic to cement control.
Winston and Julia’s defiance is short-lived. They are betrayed by O’Brien, who reveals himself as a loyal agent of the Party, and arrested by the Thought Police. The couple is taken to the Ministry of Love, a place of unspeakable horrors where dissenters are “reintegrated” into society through torture.
O’Brien, Winston’s interrogator, dismantles his psyche with surgical precision. He explains the Party’s true aim: not just obedience, but the annihilation of the individual will. “We do not merely destroy our enemies,” O’Brien says. “We change them.” Through starvation, beatings, and electroshock, O’Brien forces Winston to confront his deepest fears and betray his core beliefs. The climax of Winston’s torture occurs in Room 101, a chamber where prisoners face their worst nightmares. For Winston, this is a cage of rats strapped to his face—a primal terror that breaks his resolve. In a moment of abject cowardice, he screams, “Do it to Julia! Tear her face off!”
This betrayal marks Winston’s spiritual death. Afterward, he is released, a hollow shell who now “loves Big Brother.” The novel ends with Winston sitting in a café, listening to a war bulletin, his humanity extinguished. The final lines—“He loved Big Brother”—underscore the Party’s ultimate victory: the eradication of dissent not through force alone, but by colonizing the mind.
Orwell wrote 1984 as a warning, not a prophecy, yet its relevance has only grown. Concepts like “fake news,” algorithmic surveillance, and the weaponization of language echo the Party’s tactics. The novel challenges readers to confront uncomfortable questions: How easily can reality be manipulated in the digital age? What happens when dissent is labeled “thoughtcrime”?
The rise of authoritarian regimes, mass surveillance programs, and the erosion of privacy in the name of security all reflect Orwell’s nightmares. Even the term “Orwellian” has entered the lexicon to describe systems that distort truth and crush autonomy.
Yet 1984 is not devoid of hope. Winston’s doomed rebellion, though crushed, underscores the resilience of the human spirit. His diary, hidden in the room above the antique shop, ends with the words: “To the future or to the past, to a time when thought is free… From the age of uniformity, from the age of solitude, from the age of Big Brother, from the age of doublethink—greetings!”
In this message, Orwell reminds us that the fight for truth and freedom is perpetual. The novel’s power lies not in its bleakness, but in its call to vigilance—to guard against the slow creep of tyranny, to cherish objective truth, and to resist the seductive lie that safety is worth the cost of liberty.
As long as power seeks to dominate, 1984 will remain a beacon, urging us to remember that “two plus two” must always make four.
