1984 Deconstruction: Part 4
Feb. 2nd, 2017 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wingedbeastTrigger Warning for those who read the book: There's two sentences of a fantasy and those two sentences are stomach-churning. I won't be repeating them, but I will acknowledge them.
That said, even the rest of this is going to get disturbing. It's about hate, the influence of the two minutes of hate, and about how even those of us who imagine ourselves to be above it all, like Winston Smith, are easily swept up. It is a Dystopian novel and those are supposed to be disturbing. So, well done, George Orwell, well done.
There's a bit more detail on Goldstein, himself. There's the point made of Eurasia and Eastasia that Oceana is at peace with one when it's at war with the other (a point that could be used to say that Oceana is the least powerful of the three nations, as there's no mention of points where the other two are combined, in force, against Oceana).
And, there's the strange note that Goldstein, though hated and despised by everybody, repeatedly in the daily Two Minutes and that print-media regularly refutes and ridicules his ideas, he never loses influence in Oceana. This backs up my earlier contention that he's, at this point at least, a fictional devil.
There's also mention of "The Book", which is a compendium of all heresies, which Goldstein authors. That's something that'll come into play, later.
But, at this moment, we're going into the emotional segment, how people are impacted and how Winston Smith can't help but be impacted, himself, so we're skipping past a hefty chunk of a largish paragraph.
Side note: Impressively durable telescreens in Oceana.
One of the things to note about Oceana is how you can't really know which of these reactions is in ernest. And, neither can the characters, themselves. Remember from earlier.
"You had to live-did live, from habit that became instinct-in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement was scrutinised."
This is something that invades all elements of your life, the need to publicly perform the right emotions for the context. If you don't perform the right emotion, then you are suspect, you might not be a real member, you might be in need of some form of correction.
Take a moment and think on the reaction some people have to two men kissing. My reaction is discomfort (that's a confession, by the way). In part, for nearly all my life, I've been trained, by my surrounding culture, that performing my heterosexuality meant disgust with same-sex displays of romantic affection. (Okay, with man-to-man displays of romantic affection, I have different training with regards to women.)
Now, these days, I have to acknowledge where that's from and, to paraphrase Bob Kelsoe, "who has two thumbs and needs to get over it?". But, part of how I came to feel the way I do, have this thing I need to get over, is because I damn well had to make a practice of performing. Since I do have to get over it now, there was something genuine that came from the repeated performance. So, where did the line get drawn?
Where does the line get drawn with any of these reactions? Where is the real them versus the them that's putting on a show for the rest of the world, lest they be singled out for correction?
Part of my issue with Winston Smith, why I see him as emotionally immature, is that he doesn't wonder, except for the case of Mr. O'Brien. There will soon be more.
Not so above it all, are you, Winston?
One way I've started envisioning Winston Smith is as a teenager in High School. He's not the jock, that's O'Brien. He's not some cool artist or ace student. He's just a kid who's realized that things aren't the ideal he's been told and wants to rebel, even if only in his own mind, and has no idea where to start. I'll give him this much, he's not posing for the sake of others.
If he really were a teenager in High School, we could take the tragedy of it all and realize that this, too, shall pass. He would, eventually, make it into the real world, either through college or directly into the workforce. He might become a writer. Or, he might become some guy who likes to imagine his blog is making a worthwhile contribution to some discussion.
In context, however, this shall not pass. In part, Winston Smith hasn't grown from that point. In part, he hasn't been allowed to grow past that point. The world is his High School and he is constantly watched to make sure he has school spirit. And, while I don't necessarily like the guy, I can see myself in him.
Speaking of not liking Winston and, unfortunately, seeing myself in him...
Trigger Warning: We're getting to where I reference the two sentences.
There's a block more of text to the paragraph. He can switch his hatred to Big Brother, but at times it still turns into adoration of Big Brother for standing against Asia and Goldstein. Pretty much everything in this block brings me back to thinking of Winston Smith the confused High School teenager. But, the turning of rage one way or another is what leads us to the really bad part of Winston.
And, yes, I know I trigger-warned this. I still don't want to quote his fantasies. You are free to read them, yourself. In Nook, it's on page 25. If you're reading along and don't want to read that, just skip the next two sentences. I wouldn't blame you.
That said, this is meant to be disturbing, especially if you see yourself in Winston Smith. And, knowing the nature of the fantasies by the trigger warning, I still encourage you to see yourself in Winston Smith, if at all possible.
Winston Smith is not the greatest victim of Oceana, not by a long shot. While not an inner Party member, he is a Party member, given greater resources and mid-range status. He's also a man, therefore not taught, as we'll find out women are taught, to view baring children as their duty. But, he is, very much, a victim of Oceana. He doesn't have the scope or the emotional intelligence to see how he's not the worst victim. But, if you read those two sentences, bare that in mind.
After those two sentences, we get a hint as to how his victimization lead to those two sentences.
Some things aren't identified in the text. We kind of have to guess, based on the world Orwell is building and on parallels to the real world. Orwell either didn't think about them enough to think about specifying them or might have considered them too obvious.
If Winston Smith's upbringing has been similar to that of men's in America, only with more totaletarian control, Winston Smith has probably been taught that a part of being a man is being sexually attracted to women. For the majority of men, this matches instinct. It becomes a group experience, a bonding experience among friends or between father and son.
So, the desire he expresses is something he's been encouraged all his life. Even purity culture encourages this in men. It might say "sinful" but it also says "natural part of being a man". In other words, it's identified simultaneously bad and a requirement of manhood.
Long story short, Patriarchy hurts men, too.
But, the fact of the scarlet sash also indicates purity culture taught to women. Women, by this kind of culture, are not or should not be sexual beings. Their nature and duty, so teaches purity-culture, is to procreate and limit the access despite a world full of lustful men with limited control over themselves.
Long story short, Patriarchy hurts women worse.
This, more than anything, is why I view Winston Smith as not being the closest to being a whole person. He's just the perspective we get to know the best. Winston Smith isn't privy to the internal goings on of anybody else, so neither are we. What we do get of Winston says that his internal goings on are not whole. They are lacking this understanding of other people as existing outside of his immediate appraisal of them, of having rich, internal worlds like his own.
That High School student, the one that doesn't know where he fits in and doesn't know where to start defining himself, also doesn't know how privileged he is. That isn't supposed to shame him into inaction or make him feel okay with his place. It's supposed to make him recognize that he's not alone, that whatever rebellion he engages in can't just be for himself alone.
What's missing is an essential humility for all his humiliation. It's missing to his great detriment.
That said, even the rest of this is going to get disturbing. It's about hate, the influence of the two minutes of hate, and about how even those of us who imagine ourselves to be above it all, like Winston Smith, are easily swept up. It is a Dystopian novel and those are supposed to be disturbing. So, well done, George Orwell, well done.
Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the room.
There's a bit more detail on Goldstein, himself. There's the point made of Eurasia and Eastasia that Oceana is at peace with one when it's at war with the other (a point that could be used to say that Oceana is the least powerful of the three nations, as there's no mention of points where the other two are combined, in force, against Oceana).
And, there's the strange note that Goldstein, though hated and despised by everybody, repeatedly in the daily Two Minutes and that print-media regularly refutes and ridicules his ideas, he never loses influence in Oceana. This backs up my earlier contention that he's, at this point at least, a fictional devil.
There's also mention of "The Book", which is a compendium of all heresies, which Goldstein authors. That's something that'll come into play, later.
But, at this moment, we're going into the emotional segment, how people are impacted and how Winston Smith can't help but be impacted, himself, so we're skipping past a hefty chunk of a largish paragraph.
In its second minute the Hate rose to a frenzy. People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops of their voices in an effort to drown the maddening bleating voice that came from the screen. The sandy-haired woman had turned bright pink, and her mouth was opening and shutting like that of a landed fish. Even O'Brien's heavy face was flushed. He was sitting very straight in his chair, his powerful chest swelling and quivering as though he were standing up to the assault of a wave. The dark-haired girl behind Winston had begun crying out 'Swine! Swine! Swine!', and suddenly she picked up a heavy Newspeak dictionary and flung it at the screen. It struck Goldstein's nose and bounced off: the voice continued inexoralby.
Side note: Impressively durable telescreens in Oceana.
One of the things to note about Oceana is how you can't really know which of these reactions is in ernest. And, neither can the characters, themselves. Remember from earlier.
"You had to live-did live, from habit that became instinct-in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement was scrutinised."
This is something that invades all elements of your life, the need to publicly perform the right emotions for the context. If you don't perform the right emotion, then you are suspect, you might not be a real member, you might be in need of some form of correction.
Take a moment and think on the reaction some people have to two men kissing. My reaction is discomfort (that's a confession, by the way). In part, for nearly all my life, I've been trained, by my surrounding culture, that performing my heterosexuality meant disgust with same-sex displays of romantic affection. (Okay, with man-to-man displays of romantic affection, I have different training with regards to women.)
Now, these days, I have to acknowledge where that's from and, to paraphrase Bob Kelsoe, "who has two thumbs and needs to get over it?". But, part of how I came to feel the way I do, have this thing I need to get over, is because I damn well had to make a practice of performing. Since I do have to get over it now, there was something genuine that came from the repeated performance. So, where did the line get drawn?
Where does the line get drawn with any of these reactions? Where is the real them versus the them that's putting on a show for the rest of the world, lest they be singled out for correction?
Part of my issue with Winston Smith, why I see him as emotionally immature, is that he doesn't wonder, except for the case of Mr. O'Brien. There will soon be more.
In a lucid moment Winston found that he was shouting with the others and kicking his heel violently against the rung of his chair.
Not so above it all, are you, Winston?
The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretence was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledgehammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, scremaing lunatic.
One way I've started envisioning Winston Smith is as a teenager in High School. He's not the jock, that's O'Brien. He's not some cool artist or ace student. He's just a kid who's realized that things aren't the ideal he's been told and wants to rebel, even if only in his own mind, and has no idea where to start. I'll give him this much, he's not posing for the sake of others.
If he really were a teenager in High School, we could take the tragedy of it all and realize that this, too, shall pass. He would, eventually, make it into the real world, either through college or directly into the workforce. He might become a writer. Or, he might become some guy who likes to imagine his blog is making a worthwhile contribution to some discussion.
In context, however, this shall not pass. In part, Winston Smith hasn't grown from that point. In part, he hasn't been allowed to grow past that point. The world is his High School and he is constantly watched to make sure he has school spirit. And, while I don't necessarily like the guy, I can see myself in him.
Speaking of not liking Winston and, unfortunately, seeing myself in him...
And yet the rage that one felt was abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp.
There's a block more of text to the paragraph. He can switch his hatred to Big Brother, but at times it still turns into adoration of Big Brother for standing against Asia and Goldstein. Pretty much everything in this block brings me back to thinking of Winston Smith the confused High School teenager. But, the turning of rage one way or another is what leads us to the really bad part of Winston.
It was even possible, at moments, to switch one's hatred this way or that by voluntary act. Suddenly, by the sort of violent effort with which one wrenches one's head away from the pillow in a nightmare, Winston succeeded in transfering his hatred from the face on the screen to the dark-haired girl behind him. Vivid, beautiful hallucinations flashed through his mind.
And, yes, I know I trigger-warned this. I still don't want to quote his fantasies. You are free to read them, yourself. In Nook, it's on page 25. If you're reading along and don't want to read that, just skip the next two sentences. I wouldn't blame you.
That said, this is meant to be disturbing, especially if you see yourself in Winston Smith. And, knowing the nature of the fantasies by the trigger warning, I still encourage you to see yourself in Winston Smith, if at all possible.
Winston Smith is not the greatest victim of Oceana, not by a long shot. While not an inner Party member, he is a Party member, given greater resources and mid-range status. He's also a man, therefore not taught, as we'll find out women are taught, to view baring children as their duty. But, he is, very much, a victim of Oceana. He doesn't have the scope or the emotional intelligence to see how he's not the worst victim. But, if you read those two sentences, bare that in mind.
After those two sentences, we get a hint as to how his victimization lead to those two sentences.
Better than before, moreover, he realised why it was that he hated her. He hated her because she was young and pretty and sexless, because he wanted to go to bed with her and would never do so, because round her sweet supple waist, which seemed to ask you to encircle it with your arm, there was only the odious scarlet sash, aggressive symbol of chastity.
Some things aren't identified in the text. We kind of have to guess, based on the world Orwell is building and on parallels to the real world. Orwell either didn't think about them enough to think about specifying them or might have considered them too obvious.
If Winston Smith's upbringing has been similar to that of men's in America, only with more totaletarian control, Winston Smith has probably been taught that a part of being a man is being sexually attracted to women. For the majority of men, this matches instinct. It becomes a group experience, a bonding experience among friends or between father and son.
So, the desire he expresses is something he's been encouraged all his life. Even purity culture encourages this in men. It might say "sinful" but it also says "natural part of being a man". In other words, it's identified simultaneously bad and a requirement of manhood.
Long story short, Patriarchy hurts men, too.
But, the fact of the scarlet sash also indicates purity culture taught to women. Women, by this kind of culture, are not or should not be sexual beings. Their nature and duty, so teaches purity-culture, is to procreate and limit the access despite a world full of lustful men with limited control over themselves.
Long story short, Patriarchy hurts women worse.
This, more than anything, is why I view Winston Smith as not being the closest to being a whole person. He's just the perspective we get to know the best. Winston Smith isn't privy to the internal goings on of anybody else, so neither are we. What we do get of Winston says that his internal goings on are not whole. They are lacking this understanding of other people as existing outside of his immediate appraisal of them, of having rich, internal worlds like his own.
That High School student, the one that doesn't know where he fits in and doesn't know where to start defining himself, also doesn't know how privileged he is. That isn't supposed to shame him into inaction or make him feel okay with his place. It's supposed to make him recognize that he's not alone, that whatever rebellion he engages in can't just be for himself alone.
What's missing is an essential humility for all his humiliation. It's missing to his great detriment.
Re: Enemies
Date: 2018-10-13 03:57 am (UTC)