Sunday, January 19, 2003

There was a heavy tramp of boots in the passage. The steel door swung open with a clang. O'Brien walked into the cell. Behind him were the waxen-faced officer and the black-uniformed guards.
"Get up," said O'Brien. "Come here."
Winston stood opposite him. O'Brien took Winston's shoulders between his strong hands and looked at him closely.
"You have had thoughts of deceiving me," he said. "That was stupid. Stand up straighter. Look me in the face."
He paused, and went on in a gentler tone:
"You are improving. Intellectually there is very little wrong with you. It is only emotionally that you have failed to make progress. Tell me, Winston – and remember, no lies; you know that I am always able to detect a lie – tell me, what are you true feelings towards Big Brother?"
"I hate him."
"You hate him. Good. Then the time has come for you to take the last step. You must love Big Brother. It is not enough to obey him; you must love him."
He released Winston with a little push towards the guards.
"Room 101," he said.



From the Sunday New York Times article: "Fear Has Its Own Language in Iraq":

The professor, a member of the Baath Party, earns the equivalent of roughly $100 a month and does not own a car.
To a question about how he perceives the weapons inspections, he segues quickly from President Hussein's claim that there are none, to unsolicited thoughts about the man: "We love Saddam Hussein, not only love him, we adore him, he is the symbol of our unity. Without Saddam Hussein we will die, believe me."
And what does he think will happen to Basra should there be another war?
"I want you to convey my feelings to President Bush, my feelings as an educated man. Please, Mr. Bush, leave us alone because we love Saddam Hussein."
His oldest child is in her last year studying biology at Basra University, where one son just entered agricultural school. The two other children are in high school.
How, he was asked, do his children perceive their future?
"They are sad, they are melancholy, but we have a glimpse of hope, which is Saddam Hussein."


He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark mustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.

No comments: