1984

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This is our land.

A land of peace and of plenty.

A land of harmony and hope.

This is our land.

Oceania.

These are our people.

The workers, the strivers, the builders.

These are our people.

The builders of our world, struggling...

fighting, bleeding...

dying.

On the streets of our cities

and on the far-flung battlefields.

Fighting against the mutilation

of our hopes and dreams.

Who are they?

Eurasia! Eurasia!

They are the dark armies.

The dark, murdering armies of Eurasia.

In the barren deserts of Africa and India...

on the oceans of Australasia...

courage, strength, and youth are sacrificed.

Sacrificed to barbarians,

whose only honor is atrocity.

But even as we grasp at victory...

there is a cancer, an evil tumor...

growing, spreading in our midst.

Shout, shout...

shout out his name!

Goldstein!

Nothing the Party says is true.

Nothing the Party does is good.

Even the war itself isn't real.

The Party wants you to believe

we are at war...

so as to channel your aggressions

away from their rightful target...

the Party.

Big Brother is not real.

He is pure fiction, created by the Party.

The real rulers of the State...

are unknown, faceless manipulators...

who, because they are not known...

are able to wield power

without let or hindrance.

People of Oceania, you are being duped.

The Party doesn't serve the people,

it serves itself.

We are not at war with Eurasia.

Death! Death! Traitor!

You are being made into obedient...

stupid slaves of the Party.

Open your eyes.

See the evil that is happening to you.

The Party drops bombs on its own citizens.

Traitor!

It is the Party, not the Eurasians,

who are our enemies.

Rise up.

Throw off the yoke.

You have nothing to lose,

and everything to gain.

People of Oceania.

Big, Big, Big...

Innuendo, deleted.

Intransigence, rendered as crime.

Inversion...

Back, Day One.

Ref. Times 14-2-84, Page 3,

Byline 2, should read:

"Miniprod Forecasts Increase

Chocolate Ration, April, 1984...

"from 20 to 25 Grams Per Week. "

I confess to spreading the rumor,

on orders from Goldstein...

that the war is not really with Eurasia,

but with Eastasia.

That, for years, in fact since the days

of our glorious Revolution...

I had no faith in our future.

I forged government announcements

and falsified figures...

quoted for agricultural

and industrial production.

As a result of mental disturbance from

my experiences during the atomic wars...

I was a willing subject

of Goldstein's influence.

I was stubborn and egocentric.

When ownlife thoughts occurred to me,

I reveled in them.

I went into the proletarian zones...

I had sex with prostitutes,

I deliberately contracted syphilis.

It was at this time

that I made contact with the Resistance.

I was personally contacted

by the archtraitor, Goldstein...

and ordered to assassinate

certain Inner Party officials.

Bugger!

This I did.

My agents forged documents

and gained entry into the Ministry...

"Thoughtcrime is death.

"Thoughtcrime does not entail death.

"Thoughtcrime is death.

"I have committed,

even before setting pen to paper...

"the essential crime

that contains all others in itself. "

I have spent many hours

of my free time, encouraging my agents...

to deface Party posters

and hoarding announcements.

I read and memorized Goldstein's book.

For 30 years,

I have plotted to bring down the Party.

I was sick in mind and body.

Together with my colleagues,

Aaronson and Rutherford...

I did counterfeit

important Party documents...

including ex-London permits

and travel passes.

And that by use of these documents...

my agents traveled freely

throughout Airstrip One...

encouraging insurrection

and organizing a massive counterplot...

to destroy the innermost faction

of the Oceanian leadership.

Furthermore...

I used my position of privilege

within the Inner Party...

to pervert and betray the truth at all times...

and to suggest, wherever possible,

that our traditional allies in Eastasia...

were in fact, our deadly enemies.

"April the 4th, 1984. "

In my position as Chief Factory Planner...

"I think... "

I stole military plans...

and, at vast financial profit,

sold them to the Eurasian leadership.

"... to the past...

"or to the future...

"to an age when thought is free.

"From the age of Big Brother...

"from the age of the Thought Police...

"from a dead man...

"greetings!"

Right, let's see which one of us

can touch his toes.

Right over from the hips,

brothers and sisters, please.

One, two.

Smith? 6079, Smith, W.?

Yes, you.

Bend lower.

You're not trying. Watch me.

There, brother. That's what I want.

Anyone under 45 is perfectly

capable of touching his toes.

I'm 39, and I've had four children.

We don't all have the privilege

of fighting in the front line.

Remember our boys on the Malabar Front.

Just think what they have to put up with.

Production of water-heaters

is up 1.5 percent.

Switchgear, 4.5 percent.

Electrical wiring, 10 percent.

Cigarettes, 18 percent.

Bricks, 3 percent.

Morning, Smith.

Parsons.

Heard the rumor?

No. Good news, is it?

I should say so, yes.

Choco rations going up.

Really?

Twenty-five grams next week.

Doubleplus good.

Speakwrites, 14 percent.

Vibra-aging castings, 9 percent.

By the way, Smith, I seem to have run out

of razor blades for some reason.

You wouldn't happen to have any spare,

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