Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell.        Chapter 1

At this moment O'Brien glanced at his wrist-watch, saw that it was nearly eleven hundred, and evidently decided to stay in the Records Department until the Two Minutes Hate was over. He took a chair in the same row as Winston, a couple of places away. A small, sandy-haired woman who worked in the next cubicle to Winston was between them. The girl with dark hair was sitting immediately behind.

The next moment a hideous, grinding speech, as of some monstrous machine running without oil, burst from the big telescreen at the end of the room. It was a noise that set one's teeth on edge and bristled the hair at the back of one's neck. The Hate had started.

As usual, the face of Emmanuel Goldstein, the Enemy of the People, had flashed on to the screen. There were hisses here and there among the audience. The little sandy-haired woman gave a squeak of mingled fear and disgust. Goldstein was the renegade and backslider who once, long ago (how long ago, nobody quite remembered), had been one of the leading figures of the Party, almost on a level with Big Brother himself, and then had engaged in counter-revolutionary activities, had been condemned to death, and had mysteriously escaped and disappeared. The programmes of the Two Minutes Hate varied from day to day, but there was none in which Goldstein was not the principal figure. He was the primal traitor, the earliest defiler of the Party's purity. All subsequent crimes against the Party, all treacheries, acts of sabotage, heresies, deviations, sprang directly out of his teaching. Somewhere or other he was still alive and hatching his conspiracies: perhaps somewhere beyond the sea, under the protection of his foreign paymasters, perhaps even -- so it was occasionally rumoured -- in some hiding-place in Oceania itself.

Winston's diaphragm was constricted. He could never see the face of Goldstein without a painful mixture of emotions. It was a lean Jewish face, with a great fuzzy aureole of white hair and a small goatee beard -- a clever face, and yet somehow inherently despicable, with a kind of senile silliness in the long thin nose, near the end of which a pair of spectacles was perched. It resembled the face of a sheep, and the voice, too, had a sheep-like quality. Goldstein was delivering his usual venomous attack upon the doctrines of the Party -- an attack so exaggerated and perverse that a child should have been able to see through it, and yet just plausible enough to fill one with an alarmed feeling that other people, less level-headed than oneself, might be taken in by it. He was abusing Big Brother, he was denouncing the dictatorship of the Party, he was demanding the immediate conclusion of peace with Eurasia, he was advocating freedom of speech, freedom of the Press, freedom of assembly, freedom of thought, he was crying hysterically that the revolution had been betrayed -- and all this in rapid polysyllabic speech which was a sort of parody of the habitual style of the orators of the Party, and even contained Newspeak words: more Newspeak words, indeed, than any Party member would normally use in real life. And all the while, lest one should be in any doubt as to the reality which Goldstein's specious claptrap covered, behind his head on the telescreen there marched the endless columns of the Eurasian army -- row after row of solid-looking men with expressionless Asiatic faces, who swam up to the surface of the screen and vanished, to be replaced by others exactly similar. The dull rhythmic tramp of the soldiers' boots formed the background to Goldstein's bleating voice.

Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the room. The self-satisfied sheep-like face on the screen, and the terrifying power of the Eurasian army behind it, were too much to be borne: besides, the sight or even the thought of Goldstein produced fear and anger automatically. He was an object of hatred more constant than either Eurasia or Eastasia, since when Oceania was at war with one of these Powers it was generally at peace with the other. But what was strange was that although Goldstein was hated and despised by everybody, although every day and a thousand times a day, on platforms, on the telescreen, in newspapers, in books, his theories were refuted, smashed, ridiculed, held up to the general gaze for the pitiful rubbish that they were in spite of all this, his influence never seemed to grow less. Always there were fresh dupes waiting to be seduced by him. A day never passed when spies and saboteurs acting under his directions were not unmasked by the Thought Police. He was the commander of a vast shadowy army, an underground network of conspirators dedicated to the overthrow of the State. The Brotherhood, its name was supposed to be. There were also whispered stories of a terrible book, a compendium of all the heresies, of which Goldstein was the author and which circulated clandestinely here and there. It was a book without a title. People referred to it, if at all, simply as the book. But one knew of such things only through vague rumours. Neither the Brotherhood nor the book was a subject that any ordinary Party member would mention if there was a way of avoiding it.

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 little 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 inexorably. In a lucid moment Winston found that he was shouting with the others and kicking his heel violently against the rung of his chair. The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but, on the contrary, 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 sledge-hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp. Thus, at one moment Winston's hatred was not turned against Goldstein at all, but, on the contrary, against Big Brother, the Party, and the Thought Police; and at such moments his heart went out to the lonely, derided heretic on the screen, sole guardian of truth and sanity in a world of lies. And yet the very next instant he was at one with the people about him, and all that was said of Goldstein seemed to him to be true. At those moments his secret loathing of Big Brother changed into adoration, and Big Brother seemed to tower up, an invincible, fearless protector, standing like a rock against the hordes of Asia, and Goldstein, in spite of his isolation, his helplessness, and the doubt that hung about his very existence, seemed like some sinister enchanter, capable by the mere power of his voice of wrecking the structure of civilization... 

The Hate rose to its climax. The voice of Goldstein had become an actual sheep's bleat, and for an instant the face changed into that of a sheep. Then the sheep-face melted into the figure of a Eurasian soldier who seemed to be advancing, huge and terrible, his sub-machine gun roaring, and seeming to spring out of the surface of the screen, so that some of the people in the front row actually flinched backwards in their seats. But in the same moment, drawing a deep sigh of relief from everybody, the hostile figure melted into the face of Big Brother, black-haired, black-moustachio'd, full of power and mysterious calm, and so vast that it almost filled up the screen. Nobody heard what Big Brother was saying. It was merely a few words of encouragement, the sort of words that are uttered in the din of battle, not distinguishable individually but restoring confidence by the fact of being spoken. Then the face of Big Brother faded away again, and instead the three slogans of the Party stood out in bold capitals:

WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

But the face of Big Brother seemed to persist for several seconds on the screen, as though the impact that it had made on everyone's eyeballs was too vivid to wear off immediately. The little sandyhaired woman had flung herself forward over the back of the chair in front of her. With a tremulous murmur that sounded like 'My Saviour!' she extended her arms towards the screen. Then she buried her face in her hands. It was apparent that she was uttering a prayer.

 

 

 TWO MINUTE HATE IN 2021

A hate campaign was initiated, claiming that useless medicines were being foisted on India, that "less is better than more," and that paracetamol (acetaminophen) is better that ivermectin.  That campaign had the backing of the Health Ministry.  Also, a television show (WION--3.57M subscribers) launched a campaign against the FLCCC protocol  medicines being distributed in Uttar Pradesh, thundering against this new scam to rob India. They charged that zinc fosters the black fungus that killed so many covid  patients:

 The Health Ministry's Directorate General of Health Services has dumped... ivermectin and vitamins from its guidelines. But ICMR still lists some outdated drugs as a part of its protocol. WION's Palki Sharma tells you why this is a recipe for disaster.... If you have been treated for the Wuhan Virus in this country, it is very likely that you have taken most of these drugs.  Now here is a bitter pill for you to swallow: they were all useless. None of these drugs work on the Wuhan Virus.  We are not saying this. India's Health Ministry is... But the Indian Council of Medical Research, ICMR, continues to back these drugs... Patients will continue to pay a lot of money for futile treatment... In 2020 Indians bought more than 5 billion pills of Vitamin C, zinc, and multivitamins.  In April 2021the sale of vitamins shot up by 75%!...Unnecessary consumption of some of these drugs may have harmed us... India has reported over 12,000 cases of black fungus in Wuhan Virus patients... Experts now fear that blanket use of zinc treatment could have had a role to play.  The presence of zinc in your body creates an ideal environment for black fungus.  Experts say between there is a need to investigate the possible link between the  indiscriminate use of zinc and black fungus in India. Who will beheld accountable for all of this for this? For the desperate chase for useless medicines, for the millions spent on these medicines and for the health hazards it may have led to...we must fight the pandemic of unreliable drugs.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGnpwZ9sSy8

^{State, media, and private institutions blame dissidents, preaching hatred against them. In some countries, they try to foster civil war.}

^{By lockdowns and disease they have crushed the economy.  They have then succeeded in moving billions from middle classes accounts into the accounts of a small section of the population that has reaped great benefits.}  

^{We have nine new vaccine billionaires, created in 2020.  We have the old billionaires who have multiplied their wealth.  We have the one percenters who have not had any losses.  We have the low-level war profiteers, who have taxed us with their unreliable mandatory tests.}  

^{They have organised the large-scale killing of patients, achieved by:} 

^{a. refusing to inform people on prevention}

^{b. giving orders to refuse treating them when it's easy and cheap}

^{c. increasing levels of illness by treatment delays, with consequent increase in non-covid mortality.}  

^{We have increasing levels of fear, and widespread loss of health and of freedom--freedom of speech and debate, freedom of trade, freedom of movement.}

^{They are now working on creating political hatred, by the subservient against doubters and naysayers.  The mechanism of that process was discussed by Mattias Desmet, Professor of Clinical Psychology at Ghent University in Belgium.  His observations over the past 18 months have led him to conclude that the overwhelming majority have indeed fallen under a kind of spell. Except it’s not actually a spell, of course: the term for it is ‘mass formation’ and right now it’s manifesting as a psychological response — not unlike hypnosis — to the unrelenting, single-focus campaign of fear to which we have all been subjected.  He speaks at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLDpZ8daIVM&t=4445s}

^{In view of the failure of their vaccine, they had to find an enemy, ad it is all of us.  We are to blame for the failure of their world-wide experiment in denial of prevention and cure that's killing millions and making billions for a few chosen people with good connections.}