1984

           TheidealsetupbythePartywassomethinghuge,terrible,andglittering—aworldofsteelandconcrete,ofmonstrousmachinesandterrifyingweapons —anationofwarriorsandfanatics,marchingforwardinperfectunity,allthinkingthesamethoughtsandshoutingthesameslogans,perpetuallyworking,fighting,triumphing,persecuting—threehundredmillionpeopleallwiththesameface. Therealitywasdecaying,dingycitieswhereunderfedpeopleshuffledtoandfroinleakyshoes,inpatched-upnineteenth-centuryhousesthatsmeltalwaysofcabbageandbadlavatories. HeseemedtoseeavisionofLondon,vastandruinous,cityofamilliondustbins,andmixedupwithitwasapictureofMrsParsons,awomanwithlinedfaceandwispyhair,fiddlinghelplesslywithablockedwaste-pipe. 

           Hereacheddownandscratchedhisankleagain. Dayandnightthetelescreensbruisedyourearswithstatisticsprovingthatpeopletodayhadmorefood,moreclothes,betterhouses,betterrecreations—thattheylivedlonger,workedshorterhours,werebigger,healthier,stronger,happier,moreintelligent,bettereducated,thanthepeopleoffiftyyearsago. Notawordofitcouldeverbeprovedordisproved. ThePartyclaimed,forexample,thattoday40percentofadultproleswereliterate: beforetheRevolution,itwassaid,thenumberhadonlybeen15percent. ThePartyclaimedthattheinfantmortalityratewasnowonly160perthousand,whereasbeforetheRevolutionithadbeen300—andsoitwenton. Itwaslikeasingleequationwithtwounknowns. Itmightverywellbethatliterallyeverywordinthehistorybooks,eventhethingsthatoneacceptedwithoutquestion,waspurefantasy. ForallheknewtheremightneverhavebeenanysuchlawastheJUSPRIMAENOCTIS,oranysuchcreatureasacapitalist,oranysuchgarmentasatophat.