If you happen to read the novel 1984 by George Orwell, you are blown away by the sheer imagination, depth of the subject, vocabulary, and symbolism on display. It is one of the classics of our era. Marshall McLuhan, in his work on media theory, expounds on the role of artists in society. He argues that artists are the prophets of their time, meaning they are able to see the true picture of the times they live in and convey it through their art.
If we analyse Orwell’s writing through this lens, Eric Arthur Blair, who wrote under the pen name Orwell, and was born in Motihari, Bihar, fits this description perfectly. A novel written in 1948, against the backdrop of the booming industrial revolution, foresaw the emergence of a technocratic society that could take the shape of a totalitarian state. His contemporary, Mohammed Iqbal, also offered a prophetic insight into a machine-dominated society: “hai dil ke liye maut mashīnoñ kī hukūmat, ehsās-e-muravvat ko kuchal dete haiñ ālāt” – suggesting that technological dominance, at its heart, tramples empathy and humaneness. Thus, Orwell remains crucial to world literature as an artist who was ahead of his time, articulating the story of technology and its implications on human life and social formation.
Let us now embark on a journey into Orwell’s world, particularly through 1984, whose relevance today is greater than ever. When a novel transcends its time and space, it reveals itself as a work of wonder. A classic, it is often said, is a book that never stops offering new meanings as readers engage with it. Vocabulary, and especially terminology, creates new meanings and provides a canvas for the realm of imagination. Terms such as “surveillance state,” “double-speak,” and “thought police,” introduced in the novel, have become norms and realities in contemporary society.
To elucidate this point, one of the slogans in 1984 is “War is peace,” an apparent oxymoron. Yet, upon closer analysis, we see how this logic operates today. The United States, the self-proclaimed leader of the world, enforces democracy at gunpoint, embodying this very slogan. The entire chaos in the Middle East or Southeast Asia is driven by this philosophy. Another slogan, “Freedom is Slavery,” is equally relevant. Even in India, the rise of cultural nationalism and this notion of being “Bhakt,” a blind slave, disguised as freedom, has contributed to jingoistic nationalism. Add to this, “Ignorance is Strength,” and we witness IT cells spreading misinformation and celebrity scholars dispensing superficial wisdom on podcasts. Orwell had indeed anticipated the rise of populist regimes and the onslaught of propaganda.
One of the most interesting facets of 1984 is the creation of a new language called Newspeak, enforced through a limited vocabulary. On the surface, it may resemble symbolic renamings such as changing Mughal Sarai to Deen Dayal Upadhyay Station. But beneath this lies a deeper intention. Newspeak operates with restricted words, using “good” and adding “++” or “–” to indicate degrees of virtue or vice, for instance. The real motive, however, is to limit imagination. When vocabulary is curtailed, the ability to envision freedom, liberty, and higher aspirations is also constrained.
This explains why authoritarian regimes frequently silence academics and students – they provide the intellectual ammunition that fuels imagination and resistance. In the age of social media, emojis and declining linguistic aptitude, this crisis becomes even more pronounced. If we analyse our public discourse, the rhetoric of ‘anti-national,’ ‘sickular,’ etc., reflects a shrinking vocabulary. Neil Postman argued that public discourse in the age of television prioritizes entertainment over logic and rationality. Social media, television on steroids, has perfected this Newspeak, where facts, truth, and language are replaced by sensationalism, the true currency of our age. Terms like “Corona Jihad” or “UPSC Jihad” are stark examples of this linguistic decay.
Another feature of this Orwellian dystopia is Big Brother – the state – which delivers daily sermons of hate to mobilize citizens. Interestingly, the “enemy” alternates between “Oceania” and “Eurasia” every five years, yet citizens remain unaware. This illusion of a perpetual enemy is sustained by the Ministry of Truth, where double-speak plays a crucial role. The Ministry manufactures consent by manipulating falsehood through journals, newspapers, and tabloids, much like today’s IT cells, opindia, and celebrity commentators. Orwell’s playbook feels eerily relevant in contemporary India.
Today’s society in India appears to be the dystopian reality. This layering of propaganda, the instruments of the nation-state, the moral decay, everything needs to be considered to comprehend the society holistically, and this lens is provided by Orwell.
Consider the promise of ₹15 lakh deposited into every citizen’s account after repatriating black money from Switzerland. In 1984, chocolate rations were announced to increase from 20 to 30 grams, only to be reduced to 15 grams days later. Yet citizens celebrate, convinced Big Brother has kept his promise. Orwell captures this psychological manipulation with chilling clarity.
Hannah Arendt observed that when the public can no longer distinguish between fact and fiction, they are living under a totalitarian state. Orwell illustrates this through the equation 2 + 2 = 5—an imposed “truth.” Those who insist that 2 + 2 = 4 are punished. When authority and official truth become a phenomenon, then there is the manufacturing of truth. Today, student activists who are behind bars, or Saibaba, who was killed in jail, their only crime is that they were vociferously proclaiming 2+2=4 and the state was afraid that people may, after all, start questioning who the real culprits behind the Delhi riots are or any other such vested events. Today, more than ever, we need to recognize such dictums and break free from such doctrines and mantras.
Literature and expression also constitute a private space to dwell and reflect, and indulge in aesthetic solace. In 1984, individuals are forbidden from maintaining personal diaries; doing so is considered sedition. Adding to that, children are trained as spies to monitor private behaviour. Juxtaposed with our present reality, privacy is steadily eroding. Every click, word, and thought is surveilled. Individuals are treated as perpetual suspects, paving the way for surveillance capitalism.
When Booker Prize–winning author Arundhati Roy was asked whether she preferred fiction or non-fiction, she replied that a parent cannot choose between her children. Given a choice, she said she would choose fiction because non-fiction is often dismissed due to personal bias, whereas fiction penetrates deeper, allowing readers to step into the shoes of characters and develop empathy and emotional connection. I believe this theory can be validated through our own reading experiences. That said, non-fiction also plays a crucial role in shaping a writer’s intellectual identity.
George Orwell’s essays are masterpieces in their own right. In his essay “Some Thoughts on the Common Toad,” he reminds us that beyond the smokescreen of mega-events, arms races, and economic spectacles, there is more to life. The key to life is to remain grounded in reality, observe human interactions, immerse ourselves in nature, and rediscover the quiet joys of spring and autumn.
In his analysis of Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift, Orwell praises the author’s extraordinary imagination and creativity, yet also critiques the limitations of Swift’s utopian vision, which he finds dull and restrictive. In his engagement with the works of Charles Dickens, Orwell commends Dickens’s immediacy and journalistic insight but points out his shortcomings in articulating a broader social vision. In his essay on Salvador Dalí, Orwell challenges both Dalí’s critics and admirers, arguing that the task is not mere praise or condemnation but an understanding of the forces that shaped his unconventional artistic trajectory. This offers a brief snapshot of Orwell’s mastery in non-fiction. At its core, his work reflects a humanist worldview and a sustained commitment to an egalitarian society.
Finally, Orwell also engages deeply with political language and the crisis surrounding it, a concern that demands renewed attention today. Brian Klug, in a recent article, employs this framework to contextualize the present Palestinian crisis as a crisis of language, wherein concrete realities are reduced to abstractions. The killing of hundreds of children is rendered bureaucratically complex, framed as something that necessitates “action,” while terms such as “humanitarian pause” are deployed at the United Nations, ostensibly to allow women and children in Gaza access to food and water, even as drones and F-16s continue their assault. This manipulation of language was one of Orwell’s central engagements.
To conclude, in 1984, the protagonist tells his companion: “In order to act, you must be aware; and in order to be aware, you must act.” This encapsulates Orwell’s revolutionary message, that action must be rooted in knowledge, and knowledge must be animated by action. The world of literature is indebted to writers like Orwell, who, through their art, transcend time, space, and language. For those passionate about literature, society, and human inquiry, it is vital to cross intellectual boundaries and embark on a journey of learning across traditions, cultures, and languages.
