A shrill trumpet-call pierced the air. It was the bulletin! Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A sort of electric thrill ran through the cafe. An excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but it was almost drowned out by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run round the streets like magic. Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: "Vast strategic manoeuvre - perfect coordination - utter rout - half a million prisoners - complete demoralization - control of the whole of Africa - bring the war within measurable distance of its end - victory - greatest victory in human history - victory, victory, victory!" Under the table Winston's feet made convulsive movements. He had not stirred from his seat, but in his mind he was running, swiftly running, he was with the crowds outside, cheering himself deaf. He looked up again at the portrait of BIG BROTHER. The colossus that bestrode the world! The rock against which the hordes of Asia dashed themselves in vain!
He thought how ten minutes ago - yes, only ten minutes - there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the front would be victory or defeat. Ah, it was more than a Eurasian army that had perished! Much had changed in him since that first day in the Ministry of Love, but the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.
The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The long-hoped for bullet was entering his brain.
He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. 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.
Il discorso del Presidente degli Stati Uniti in morte di Osama Bin Laden ha strani ma inequivocabili echi del linguaggio totalitario- sia nei suoi prototipi fattuali che nelle analisi di Arendt, Lefort etc. 'E una cosa che mi dà molto da pensare, e che non era realmente del tutto prevedibile.
RispondiEliminaThe U.S. President's speech on Osama Bin Laden's death has strange but not dubious echoes of totalitarian language- both in its factual prototypes and in the classical analyses of Arendt, Lefort, etc. This is something which gives me much to think, and which really was not entirely foreseeable.
may 3: When I posted this note mentioning 1984, Big Brother and so on, I had not yet seen the images of Obama and the others watching live the attack unfold (from a videochamber on a soldier's helmet, it seems). Will M. is quite right that we are far beyond Orwell- into some nightmarish Cronenberg or Philip Dick reality I'd say- with the powers of technology and cunning used to maximize the net impact of one's enterprises of war and peace (as Will M. rightly said: just AFTER the royal wedding...)
RispondiElimina3 maggio, sera: Quando ho messo insieme questa nota, che tira in ballo 1984, Orwell, il Grande Fratello, non avevo ancora visto le immagini di Obama con gli altri che guarda dal vivo lo svolgersi dell'attacco- (da una videocamera posta sull'elmetto di un soldato, sembra). Will M. ha perfettamente ragione a dire che qui siamo oltre Orwell; in una realtà da incubo alla Cronenberg o Philip Dick, piuttosto, direi- con tutti i poteri della tecnologia e dell'astuzia usati per massimizzare l'impatto globale delle proprie imprese di guerra e pace (come Will M. giustamente nota: esattamente DOPO le nozze reali inglesi...)
A Francesca Alletto piace questo elemento.
RispondiEliminaWill Miller What perhaps goes even beyond Big Brother was that Obama and Clinton were watching it happen on screen - and were even if only nominally in control of events - as game players. Having known of Bin Laden's compound since March, I wonder whether they delayed a few days so as not to conflict with the media impact of the Royal Wedding...so each country could have a ecstatic media event unhampered.
03 maggio alle ore 13.52 · Mi piace
Giacomo Conserva When I thought of this note, I had not yet seen the images of Obama and the others watching live the attack unfold (from a videochamber on a soldier's helmet, they say now). And you're quite right that we are far beyond Orwell- into some nightmarish Cronenberg or Philip Dick reality I'd say- with the powers of technology and cunning used to maximize the net impact of one's enterprises of war and peace (right again: just AFTER the royal wedding...)