The Nineteen Eighty-Four we know

Before I read 1984 I had heard people characterize things as "orwellian". I knew people talked about "Big Brother" and that that reference implied a society with total surveillance of its citizens. But the sheer amount of concepts in our culture that come from 1984 is stunning.
Room 101 for instance, we all seem to know what room 101 is even if we haven't read the book. I now seem to have lost interest with my original train of thought and so I will devote this blog to Room 101. Orwell's inspiration for Room 101 was a conference room in the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation amadáin). It would appear that the meetings Orwell attended in Room 101 were exceedingly boring or otherwise "unendurable". The building has since been demolished but the room has been immortalized in art as can be seen at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/03/entertainment_enl_1068725504/html/1.stm

We now know Room 101 as the worst place in the world, or more specifically as that which houses the worst thing in the world. The idea of the worst thing in the world being individual instead of universal links back to the fear essay we wrote, I doubt that any of us held the same thing as our worst fear. Though it does seem that the fears exploited in Room 101 are "irrational" or unlikely, such as crucifixion or burial alive, and as far as I know most of the essays focused on more common and probable occurences.
Interestingly, the last head of the Stasi in the GDR (you'll have to look up the initials this time) changed the way the rooms of Stasi HQ in Berlin were numbered so that his office would be 101. This man, his name was Erich Mielke, was a known fan of George Orwell, despite the fact that Orwell's works were banned in the GDR.

Newspeak continued

All right, time to consider newspeak. Unfortunately the flash of insight I had into newspeak came while listening to Alberto Manguel's 2007 Massey Lectures being replayed on Ideas, so not only was it well past nine at night but it was also 12 days ago. In my last post I talked about how Winston is unable to communicate the ideas he has because of fear, newspeak will eliminate the need to maintain that fear in order to stop communication. If there are no words for rebellion, no concept of rebellion, there will be no rebellion. Newspeak is chillingly ingenious. It is also most conducive to doublethink, twisting as it does, language in such a way as to distort reality. I once read a book by Ursula K. LeGuin (it was A Wizard of Earthsea, most worth it despite the slightly dubious title) in which she talks about language being used so that falsehoods sound true, the exact words were "it is their own language and they can lie in it, twisting the true words to false ends. Catching the unwary hearer in a maze of mirror words, each of which reflects the truth and none of which lead anywhere." (punctuation is my own, I am working from audio memory). Of course with newspeak the words were never true in the first place. Oh sure they are innocuous enough, words like: hit, run, dog, tree, sugar, house, field; but these words are corrupted so as to lose any meaning beyond the concrete. If a person does not have words to describe an experience they are unable to remember that experience, this is supported fact. Thus, with full implementation of newspeak, the people of Oceania will be unable to think, let alone communicate beyond that which the Party deems it appropriate for them to be able to conceive of. Let alone rebel.

The Gift of Cassandra and Newspeak

Winston Smith may be likened to the Cassandra of Greek mythology. Cassandra was granted the gift of prophesey after making love to the god Apollo. Apollo however, spat in Cassandra's mouth. For a reason I am not certain of this taints the gift, Cassandra is a prophet, but no one will believe her. Winston also holds a truth about the situation of the world but is powerless to communicate it to anyone. Cassandra may warn all she likes but nothing will stop what she says from coming true, even if she says nothing she (and no one else) will still know what is going to happen. Winston is technically free to say what he thinks to who he likes but he knows that doing so would result in his death and make no difference anyways. They are both unable to change the terrible things they see (or foresee) happening.

I shall continue this entry and how it pertains to newspeak when I get home...

The Bells of St. Clements

'Oranges and lemons,' say the bells of St Clement's,

'You owe me three farthings,' say the bells of St Martins,

'When will you pay me?' say the bells of Old Bailey,

'When I grow rich,' say the bells of Shoreditch

This British nursery rhyme is one of the few remnants of the world as it was that exist in 1984. The rhyme itself appears unimportant, its significance being the connection to the past through some fading memories. Winston cherishes the knowledge of the song that he gains, this and other "artefacts" are valuable to him because they are unaltered. Everyone seems to have forgotten what life was like before "the Party", indeed, that is the only way to survive.
Within the story the rhyme is never completed. There are references to a bit more of it, a part near the end which goes "Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!." The final line never appears, what it says is "The last man's dead!". When Winston is being interrogated in the Ministry of Love, O'Brien refers to him as "The Last Man". My contention is that the rhyme is fulfilled in the end, the last man is dead. Not physically, Winston was only the last man in the sence that he had retained his humanity. By the end he no longer has that and something in him has most certainly died.

'When will that be?' Say the bells of Stepney,

'I'm sure I don't know' Says the great bell of Bow

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

Here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

Chip, chop, chip, chop. The last man's dead!

This concludes the second and final installment in my series on songs and rhymes in 1984.

1984

It was only an 'opeless fancy,

It passed like an Ipril dye,

But a look an' a word an' the dreams they stirred

They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!

Maybe this song from 1984 doesn't make any sense, it supposedly isn't supposed to, yet I think plays a large part in the only hope in this novel that survives the dark conclusion. In the beginning we (I certainly did) accept the hopelessness of the regime, there is no rebelling without certain and swift death. Then it appears that maybe there is an opening and perhaps the Party will meet its downfall. This is appealing, there is love between Winston and Julia and they have seemingly evaded the Thought Police. I think I believed this, but of course upon reading to the end it is revealed that they have been trapped from the start. The one thing that remains for me is the aged washer-woman who lives out her life as so many have before and in the context of the book will likely continue to do (the many plump older women, not this specific one sadly). I'm beginning on this faintly hopeful point because it just seems too much to dive straight into the dark bits. Which, come to think of it, very nearly comprise the novel in its entirety.

They sye that time 'eals all things,

They sye you can always forget;

But the smiles an' the tears across the years

They twist my 'eart-strings yet!

This concludes the first and penultimate installment in my series on songs and rhymes in 1984.