Big Brother Broke My Heart

1984 Book written by George Orwell

I was 18. The first time I got a hold of 1984 by George Orwell was from a friend. I partially remember from my first reading that Winston feared rats. I was halfway through the book when my friend and I had a falling off. I was kind enough to give the book back. 

I am 20 and finished this book a week ago. I am glad my friend and I had a falling-off two years ago; otherwise, this book would’ve emotionally destroyed a naive 18-year-old boy.

Sure, Mr. Orwell does a great job at outlining what my future would look like if I were to give in to the communist ideology. Mass surveillance, zero privacy, Thoughtcrime, I get it. But what I focused the most on was the relationship between Winston and Julia. After finishing this book, I am starting to believe that love does not exist. 

Halfway through the book, I was so certain that nothing tears love apart, no Thought Police, no Ingsoc, no Big Brother. Love was the only force strong enough to overthrow the New World Order. Just like Winston and Julia, I too was hoping that the Brotherhood would be real. I remember sitting in my university’s library blushing over their conversations as they proclaimed that no force in the world could destroy their love. They said with certainty that the Thought Police could make them say they hated each other, even make them swear it out loud in public, yet deep down inside they would both know that they still loved each other. That their love was as fresh and as innocent as the day they first met outside the city. Sure, Big Brother was strong but love was the strongest force. And if under this much scrutiny and opposition, their love could be real. Then so could mine. 

I wish I had stopped reading the book from this point forward.

Inevitably, Winston and Julia were caught by the Thought Police. Winston never saw her that day forward. He was taken in and tortured physically and mentally. He was made to eat food that animals wouldn’t eat. He was made to bear things no human should. Days went by, months went by, perhaps even years. Yet, despite all this, he never once stopped caring about Julia, at one point, even asking how Julia was doing from a Thought Policeman (O’Brien). Winston had tried his best to be released. He had proclaimed out loud the Party’s slogans, he had agreed to everything they wanted him to say and think, and he convinced himself that two and two are five if Big Brother tells him so. Winston had no idea what the Party wanted from him.

One day, a cage of rats was brought in front of him. Winston had a fear of rats and the Party knew. No matter how loud Winston screamed, no matter whom he asked for help, the cage was brought closer and closer and closer and closer till Winston screamed, “Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! . . . .”. The cage was shut. Winston was released sometime later.

The Party did not give a shit about their slogans, they didn’t care if Winston was faithful to them by heart, they could not care less. What the Party wanted was Winston (and me) to know that no matter how strong your love is, no matter how many bullets you are willing to take for her, no matter how many times you have analyzed her face from different angles, no matter how many times you have thanked God for making such a perfect creation, that there are situations you can be put under where you would betray her in a blink of an eye. 

Love is a strong force, but not the strongest. This is George Orwell’s fault.