"1984" by George Orwell is a dystopian novel set in a world of perpetual war, pervasive government surveillance, and incessant public mind control. The story unfolds in Airstrip One (formerly known as Great Britain), a province of the superstate Oceania which is in a constant state of war with the other two superstates, Eastasia and Eurasia.
O'Brien
O'Brien is one of the most enigmatic and manipulative characters in George Orwell's "1984." Ostensibly a member of the Inner Party, he presents himself with a mix of brutality and charm. Physically, he is described as "a large burly man with a thick neck and a coarse humorous brutal face," suggesting a strong and perhaps intimidating presence.
Despite his intimidating appearance, O'Brien carries a "certain charm of manner" and exhibits behaviors that would be considered cultivated, such as a particular way of resettling his glasses reminiscent of an 18th-century nobleman. This juxtaposition of civility and the capacity for brutality captures the essence of his complex character. Winston is drawn to O'Brien not just because of this contrast, but due to a "secretly held belief—or perhaps not even a belief, merely a hope—that O'Brien's political orthodoxy was not perfect."
O'Brien's true malevolence is revealed through his role in Winston's torture and brainwashing in the Ministry of Love. He is the architect behind the physical and psychological torments that befall Winston, deciding the timing and intensity of Winston's pain, periods of respite, nourishment, sleep, and even when drugs should be administered. O'Brien morphs into every role required to break Winston's spirit, being "the tormentor, he was the protector, he was the inquisitor, he was the friend."
This duality of O'Brien's character, as both torturer and protector, highlights the Party's method of control, which combines intimidation with a deceitful facade of understanding and care. O'Brien's actions and words play a crucial role in Winston's ultimate submission to the Party; he represents the Party's duplicity and its ultimate power over the individual.
O'Brien, in his cruelty, is a personification of the Party's subjugation and psychological manipulation tactics, serving as both the face of Big Brother's extended arm and the personal connection to the oppressive regime that Winston mistakenly believes he can trust.
Big Brother is the embodiment of the Party's authority in George Orwell's "1984." Though no one has ever seen him and there is uncertainty even about his birth, Big Brother is depicted as "infallible and all-powerful." He symbolises the success, achievements, victories, knowledge, and virtues of Oceania, and all good things are attributed to issue directly from his leadership and inspiration.
Big Brother's omnipresence is maintained through posters and telescreens, making him a pervasive presence in the lives of Oceania's citisens. This omnipresence assures the populace of his timeless power and control, painting him as an immortal entity: "Nobody has ever seen Big Brother. He is a face on the hoardings, a voice on the telescreen. We may be reasonably sure that he will never die."
Orwell crafts Big Brother as more than just a leader; he is the central figure for the citisens' emotions—encouraging love, fear, and reverence, emotions "which are more easily felt towards an individual than towards an organisation." By personifying the Party as Big Brother, the state creates a figure that can be idolised, feared, and loved, making it easier for people to align their feelings and loyalties in a way that supports the dominance of the Party.
In essence, Big Brother is not just a character but a carefully crafted instrument of control. As the ultimate symbol of the Party, Big Brother is the focal point around which the machinery of the state revolves, creating a figurehead that encapsulates the totalitarian regime's ideologies and exerts influence over the individual and collective psyche of its subjects.
Mr. Charrington is initially portrayed as a seemingly gentle and unassuming elderly man in George Orwell's "1984." Winston Smith first meets Mr. Charrington in his secondhand shop where he sells items reminiscent of the past. Charrington comes across as a widower, aged sixty-three, who has run his shop for thirty years, and though he appears to be a harmless old man, he ultimately plays a devious role in the narrative.
In the text, he is described as somewhat of a nostalgic figure who enjoys the relics of the past and maintains his small shop with remnants of a bygone era. This portrayal is captured as Mr. Charrington engages Winston in talks about history and traditions, while never seeming to update his business or engage with many customers, leading an almost ghostlike existence. He conveys an image of benign antiquity as he wanders, with "his long nose and thick spectacles," among the dusty remnants in his shop, giving the impression of a man out of time, a relic like the items he sells.
However, as the story unfolds, it is revealed that the quaint shopkeeper is indeed a member of the Thought Police and his shop, a trap for unwary dissidents like Winston and his lover Julia. This turn of events shows how Mr. Charrington deceives Winston, luring him into a false sense of safety, which leads to their eventual capture. His previous appearance as an ally to Winston's rebellion against the Party is stripped away, revealing a more cunning and instrumental figure in the Party's vast and inescapable surveillance apparatus. Through Mr. Charrington's betrayal, Orwell conveys the idea that in a totalitarian regime, anyone can be an enemy and that those who seem least threatening may in fact be the most dangerous.
Emmanuel Goldstein is a key figure in George Orwell's "1984," though he never appears directly in the novel. He is the principal enemy of the state, portrayed as a traitor and a heretic who was once a leading figure of the Party. Goldstein's character serves as the focal point for the citizens' hatred during the daily "Two Minutes Hate" sessions. He is described as the perennial enemy, whose existence fuels the Party's continuous crusade against supposed threats to its purity and power.
Goldstein's image is cast as a repugnant and almost mythical figure: "It was a lean Jewish face with a great fuzzy aureole of white hair and a small goatee beard—a clever face and yet somehow inherently despicable with a kind of senile silliness in the long thin nose." This characterisation provides a tangible face for Oceania's citizens to despise—an essential function for the Party to maintain the public's emotions of fear and revulsion and divert their attention away from the Party's machinations.
As part of the mythos surrounding Goldstein, he is reputed to have written "the book," which contains heretical ideas and is considered the manifesto of the Brotherhood—an underground resistance organisation. Even the text starts with lines that instigate thought about society's structure: "Throughout recorded time and probably since the end of the Neolithic Age there have been three kinds of people in the world, the High, the Middle, and the Low." Orwell uses the figure of Goldstein to demonstrate how totalitarian regimes require a persistent enemy to justify their oppressive and draconian measures. Despite the Party's efforts to vilify Goldstein and minimise his influence, the narrative suggests that his ideas continue to infiltrate the minds of the populace.
Goldstein thus reflects the necessity of an antagonist in the Party's narrative, a figure that justifies the endless war and suppressive tactics that characterise life in Oceania. His existence—or at least the idea of it—enforces loyalty to the Party and underpins the atmosphere of persecution and suspicion that is fundamental to the Party's control over Oceania.
The theme of totalitarianism and its impact on individual autonomy and freedom represents an examination of extreme political ideologies and their capacity to annihilate personal liberties. The way Orwell uses language to evoke the oppressive atmosphere of the totalitarian regime of Oceania is both harrowing and enlightening. Specifically, Orwell employs stark, direct language to describe the government's aims: "The two aims of the Party are to conquer the whole surface of the earth and to extinguish once and for all the possibility of independent thought." This language, devoid of any sugarcoating or euphemism, lays bare the chilling objectives of the Party, leaving readers with no illusions about its nature.
The regime’s thoroughness in achieving these aims is further underscored by Orwell's parallel of modern scientists to both inquisitor and chemist, grounding abstract political horror into palpable, everyday professions. As the text reveals, "The scientist of today is either a mixture of psychologist and inquisitor, studying with extraordinary minuteness the meaning of facial expressions, gestures, and tones of voice," suggesting a world where the advancement of knowledge serves not the enlightenment, but the entrapment of society.
The eradication of concepts like 'freedom of speech' and 'equality before the law' represents a regression from the values heralded by past political movements, captured in Orwell’s declaration: "But by the fourth decade of the twentieth century, all the main currents of political thought were authoritarian." Here, the language utilised is reflective and nostalgic, hinting at a loss that is both societal and personal.
Orwell’s diction throughout the novel is measured and ominous, exemplified when he writes: "Every new political theory, by whatever name it called itself, led back to hierarchy and regimentation." This elicits a historical continuity of oppression, bringing forth the cyclical nature of authoritarian regimes, a cycle that the Party in "1984" seeks to break by eternally fixing its power and thus halting the pendulum of political change.
The theme of propaganda, reality control, and the manipulation of truth in George Orwell's "1984" is integral to the novel's examination of how totalitarian regimes manipulate truth to maintain absolute power. The precision of Orwell's language in illustrating this theme is instrumental in creating the novel's sense of dread.
In one particularly powerful moment, Orwell narrates the fate of an unperson, illustrating the ease with which events are added and removed from recorded history: "And presently some master brain in the Inner Party would select this version or that, would re-edit it and set in motion the complex processes of cross-referencing that would be required; and then the chosen lie would pass into the permanent records and become truth." Orwell's careful choice of words such as "master brain" suggests a near-omniscient entity with the power to reshape facts, underscoring a deliberate and calculating revision of what is known to be true. The terms "chosen lie" and "become truth" highlight manipulation, creating a dichotomy where lies are seamlessly transformed into a new, accepted reality.
Language is not just a vehicle for communication in the novel, but a tool wielded by the Party to confine the scope of thought: "Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, and orgiastic triumph." Here, Orwell's use of contrasting adjectives ("competent, industrious, and even intelligent" vs. "credulous and ignorant fanatic") illustrates the cognitive dissonance required by Party members, a state induced and maintained by the calculated use of propaganda.
Orwell tactically employs dry, factual tones in his descriptions, rendering the fantastic elements of the Party’s doctrines into something mundane and thereby accepted. This narrative style informs the very essence of the Party's manipulation of truth: "The citizen of Oceania is not allowed to know anything of the tenets of the other two philosophies, but he is taught to execrate them as outrages upon morality and common sense." By normalising abhorrent ideas, the language enforces the Party's reality as the only permissible truth.
In "1984," George Orwell explores how language can be deployed as a tool of power and subjugation. Through the creation and implementation of Newspeak, the language is not merely a means of expression but a tool for restricting thought, shaping reality, and maintaining the Party's totalitarian control.
Orwell reveals the intent behind the development of Newspeak, explaining its purpose as making "all other modes of thought impossible." Syme, an expert on Newspeak, proudly declares: "It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words." The language's deliberate reduction of vocabulary effectively limits the complexity of thought and restricts the possibility of rebellious thoughts. By diminishing the range of expression, the Party aims to eliminate the ability to conceive of political alternatives, effectively preventing dissent at its source.
The Party's strategy is further illustrated in how they position language as an almost automatic response akin to machine-gun fire: “His training to do this, the language gave him an almost foolproof instrument." The harshness and 'certain wilful ugliness' of Newspeak words align with the spirit of Ingsoc, facilitating the indoctrination of Party members and the obliteration of unorthodox viewpoints.
Orwell also skillfully employs the diction of control in his narrative, as when he writes about the reduction of the Newspeak vocabulary. Every year, the vocabulary grows smaller, "each reduction" being significant because it reduced "the temptation to take thought." The ultimate objective sketched by Orwell’s language—articulate speech issuing "from the larynx without involving the higher brain centers"—is a haunting depiction of the negation of free will and critical thinking.
Through Newspeak, negative influence becomes easy. By controlling language, the Party exerts influence over the populace, ensuring that discontent never becomes articulate dissent and subversive thought cannot prosper. Chillingly, Orwell writes that the “consciousness of the masses needs only to be influenced in a negative way." Orwell's language choices turn the abstract concept of totalitarian suppression into a visceral reality. By showing us how language can be weaponised to constrain thought and enforce social hierarchy, he highlights the vulnerability of human thought to manipulation. Ultimately, Orwell's use of language to discuss language itself becomes a powerful meta-commentary on the seductiveness and danger of rhetoric in the hands of those seeking absolute power.
The theme of psychological manipulation and the impact of fear and paranoia in George Orwell's "1984" is typified by the idea that the characters are in a constant state of uncertainty. Orwell constructs the psychological landscape of Oceania through the meticulous portrayal of the party’s tactics: "Remember throughout our conversation that I have it in my power to inflict pain on you at any moment and to whatever degree I choose." This direct threat presented in a calm and measured tone by O'Brien underscores the cold, calculated nature of the Party's control over the individual, emphasising submission through fear rather than persuasion.
Winston reflects on the invasive reach of the Party: "For the first time he perceived that if you want to keep a secret you must also hide it from yourself." This encapsulation of internal oppression illustrates how the very instincts of self-preservation are turned against oneself, forcing individuals to suppress their true emotions and thoughts in the perpetual presence of fear.
The emotive power of the text is further enhanced through descriptions of the Party's cruel machinations. Julia's account of the threats posed by the regime demonstrates the extent to which fear breaks humanity: "Sometimes they threaten you with something ... that you can't even think about. And then you say, 'Do it to somebody else, do it to so-and-so.'" This harrowing confession depicts a breaking of the spirit where self-preservation overrides all moral considerations, mirroring the tension between innate self-interest and the terror of complete subjugation by the state.
Orwell also delves into the consequence of such psychological stress, highlighting the transformation it causes in relationships: "And after that, you don't feel the same toward the other person any longer." The betrayal induced by intense fear is not only a weapon of control but also an agent of forced emotional decay, severing the bonds between individuals and ensuring the Party's dominion over every aspect of life, including the most intimate of human relations.
Throughout "1984," Orwell's use of language in articulating the methods and effects of psychological manipulation serves as a narrative device to convey meaning. The language establishes an omnipresent state of paranoia, in tandem with the perpetually monitored world where even a thought can indict one as a traitor. In this, Orwell presents a world where truth and safety are mutable, and the fear and paranoia instilled by the state ensure the subjugation of the will and the abandonment of hope for anything beyond the Party’s orthodoxy.
Airstrip One, formerly known as England or Britain, is the main setting of George Orwell's "1984" and a central location in the superstate of Oceania. This area has been reinvented by the Party, exemplifying the new world order under Big Brother's rule.
Airstrip One is depicted as an area where the past has been systematically erased and rewritten to align with the Party's present narrative. The manipulation of history is so complete that even the geographic titles have been altered to obliterate any reminiscence of a pre-Party existence: "Airstrip One, for instance, had not been so-called in those days: it had been called England or Britain though London he felt fairly certain had always been called London."
The capital city, London, is a shadow of its former self, characterised by a constant state of war. It is a city where historical landmarks have been destroyed or repurposed, and the architecture is dominated by large, intimidating structures, such as the four Ministries including the enormous pyramid-structured Ministry of Truth. Winston notes the regular occurrence of rocket bombs dropping on the city, highlighting the ongoing state of war and destruction: "About twenty or thirty of them a week were falling on London at present.”
The environment of Airstrip One plays an intrinsic role in the Party's strategy to maintain power and control. By reshaping the landscape and controlling every aspect of life, from what people speak to what they remember, the Party creates a new reality. This reality is not centralised as traditions would have it, but spread across a superstate without a capital, without a visible leader: "In no part of Oceania do the inhabitants have the feeling that they are a colonial population ruled from a distant capital. Oceania has no capital and its titular head is a person whose whereabouts nobody knows." Thus, Airstrip One epitomises the pervasive power and influence of the Party; it is a place of ruination and psychological manipulation, a setting where every brick and pavement has been commandeered to serve the Party's ends. Through the transformation of England into Airstrip One, Orwell conveys the extent of totalitarian reach—not just over people's minds and actions, but also over the very spaces they inhabit.
Victory Mansions, where Winston Smith resides, epitomises the dilapidated state and neglect characteristic of civilian life in Oceania. The building is old and crumbling, a microcosm of the broader state of disrepair that reflects the Party's indifference to the living conditions of its citisens. Orwell describes it thusly: "Victory Mansions were old flats built in 1930 or thereabouts and were falling to pieces."
These flats, constructed decades before the novel's time, now suffer from a lack of maintenance as the plaster "flaked constantly from ceilings and walls," showing a pervasive decay that matches the desolate spirit hovering over Oceania's society. The building's infrastructure is likewise vulnerable, with "pipes burst[ing] in every hard frost" and a "roof leaked whenever there was snow." This tangible sense of deterioration is compounded by the intentional scarcity of heat, as "the heating system was usually running at half steam when it was not closed down altogether from motives of economy."
The poor state of Victory Mansions is indicative of the Party's overarching policies, where even minor repairs must be "sanctioned by remote committees", a bureaucratic process undoubtedly mired in red tape, showing the Party's lack of concern for the individual's comfort or wellbeing. Furthermore, the residents of the flats are demanded to contribute to Party activities, like the adornment of the building for Hate Week, with Parsons boasting that "Victory Mansions doesn’t have the biggest outfit of flags in the whole street". This highlights the contrast between the external show of Party loyalty and the internal decay of the society’s fabric.
Overall, the Victory Mansions is not only Winston's place of residence but also a symbol of the insidious decay of humanity and civil infrastructure under a regime that outwardly prioritises grandeur and internal unity to the detriment of the actual quality of life of its citisens.
The Ministry of Love, known as Miniluv in Newspeak, stands as the most intimidating and sinister of the four primary Ministries in George Orwell's "1984." It is described in chilling detail: "The Ministry of Love was the really frightening one. There were no windows in it at all." Its windowless construction is an ominous symbol of the total isolation and intense secrecy surrounding the activities within its walls.
Inaccessible to the public except on official business, Miniluv is designed to be a fortress of law and order, fortified by a complex array of security measures: "It was a place impossible to enter except on official business and then only by penetrating through a maze of barbed-wire entanglements, steel doors, and hidden machine-gun nests." The presence of "gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms armed with jointed truncheons" patrolling the streets that approach the Ministry further amplify the aura of fear and control that Miniluv exerts over the populace of Oceania.
Unlike the other Ministries, which, despite their daunting appearances, still engage with the city life around them, the Ministry of Love is completely cut off. Its purpose is not to engage with public life but to contain and eradicate any real, perceived, or potential dissent against the Party. Winston Smith himself never ventured within half a kilometer of its premises, a common experience for the citizens of Oceania, reflecting the terror it evokes in them.
Orwell uses Miniluv not just as a place where physical control over individuals is exercised, but also as a symbol of the psychological grip the Party holds over the citizens of Oceania. The impossibility of entry, the absence of windows, the intimidating architecture—all contribute to the Ministry's role as the heart of the Party's coercive power, enforcing obedience through fear and brutal reeducation.
Miniluv's overwhelming presence alongside the other Ministries forms a skyline defined by the authority and surveillance of Big Brother, "So completely did they dwarf the surrounding architecture that from the roof of Victory Mansions you could see all [of them] simultaneously". This view serves as a constant visual reminder to the people of Oceania of the power and omnipresence of the Party.
In George Orwell's 1984, symbols such as the glass paperweight and St. Clement’s Church are woven deeply into the narrative and serve as powerful vehicles for the author's themes and messages. The glass paperweight, as described in the text, has layers that can be seen as a metaphor for the complexity and depth of the world Winston dreams of, a world different from the oppressive one he inhabits: "The inexhaustibly interesting thing was not the fragment of coral but the interior of the glass itself. There was such a depth of it and yet it was almost as transparent as air". This suggests a multifaceted reality, beautiful yet unreachable, much like the world before the Party took over. The paperweight, with the enclosed piece of coral, symbolises Winston's desire to capture and understand a past that the Party insists on eradicating or rewriting. It represents a snapshot of history, fragile and enclosed within the glass, much like Winston's own fleeting memories and the forbidden truths he seeks to hold on to.
St. Clement’s Church, meanwhile, is a symbol of the lost and altered past. In the novel, the church is a bombed ruin, sitting outside the Palace of Justice—a stark representation of the obliteration of history and tradition by the Party: "It was a church at one time St Clement Danes its name was". The church's destruction echoes the broader erasure of the collective memory, suggesting a disconnect from the historical continuity and culture that once defined society. The rhyme associated with St. Clement’s, "Oranges and lemons say the bells of St Clement’s," not only signifies the loss of childhood and innocence but also foreshadows the menacing "chop off your head," linking childhood memories with the brutal realities of Winston's world. This juxtaposition illustrates how the Party's control extends even into the internalised memories of its citizens, contorting and utilising nostalgia as another means of submission and control.
Orwell is able to contrast the characters' inner desires for truth and beauty with the stark reality of their manipulated existence. Both the glass paperweight and St. Clement’s Church allow him to create a nuanced critique of totalitarianism, showing the depths to which it will sink to maintain power, including the annihilation of history and the human longing for connection to the past. The symbols are not just objects or references; they are windows into the losses endured by individuals and society as a whole under the Party's regime, serving as a reminder of what has been sacrificed and what remains at stake.
The structure of George Orwell's "1984" is critical to its narrative, as it highlights the development of themes and characters throughout the novel. To analyse the structure and its impact, let's consider quotes from various parts of the text, showing how the narrative evolves.
From the depiction of societal structure, there is an explanation of the social strata: "Below that come the dumb masses whom we habitually refer to as 'the proles' numbering perhaps 85 percent of the population." This structure is a backbone for the dystopian society, as it established the hierarchy within the narrative and set up a class system that is rigid and inescapable, framing the characters' development.
The theme of industrial consumption and warfare links the society's economic structure to its political machinations: "Ever since the end of the nineteenth century the problem of what to do with the surplus of consumption goods has been latent in industrial society." This represents the Party's effort to keep society in a state of constant warfare and consumption, which is also a critical reflection of Winston's recognition of the futility and constructed nature of his society's perpetual conflict.
The portrayal of the Party's control over life and death further reinforces the theme of power and helplessness, conveying the capriciousness of the regime: "The one certain thing was that death never came at an expected moment." The narrative structure around Winston's understanding of his likely fate weaves a sense of foreboding throughout the book, culminating in Winston's resignation to his lack of agency.
Language and its manipulation are integral to the structural development of themes related to thought control. The construction of Newspeak is a central theme: "great numbers of words which at first sight appeared to be mere abbreviations and which derived their ideological color not from their meaning but from their structure." This manipulation of language is seen in Winston's work at the Ministry of Truth and reflects on his increasing awareness of how the structure of language shapes reality within the novel.
The narrative also illustrates the temporary nature of alliances and the constant state of distrust promoted by the Party: "Even the official ally of the moment is always regarded" with an implicit suspicion. This reflects how the characters, including Winston, never feel safe or secure, further exploring the theme of paranoia and the omnipresence of the Party's surveillance.