Chapter 8 9.2

But there is more to it than that to permanently establish a hierarchical society.There are only four situations in which a ruling group loses power.One is external conquest, the other is that it governs so inefficiently that it provokes popular revolt, the other that it fosters the formation of a powerful and disaffected middle class, and the other that it loses the Confidence and motivation.It is a rule that these causes do not act alone, but to some extent they exist simultaneously.As long as a ruling group can overcome these problems, it can maintain its power forever.In the end, it is the mentality of the ruling class that is decisive.

The first danger above has practically ceased to exist after the middle of this century.None of the three countries in the three-thirds world can be conquered in fact; if they were conquered, the only possibility is that slow demographic changes have taken place, but this is easily avoided by a powerful government.The second danger exists only in theory.The masses of the people never rebel voluntarily, nor do they rebel simply because they are oppressed.In fact, as long as they are not given a reference, they will never realize that they are being oppressed.The economic crises that have recurred throughout history are entirely avoidable now, and will be avoided as much as possible; and other equally serious disorders that can occur, and do occur, will not bring any political harm, because dissatisfaction cannot be expressed. Way.As for the problem of overproduction, which had been dormant since the invention of the machine craft, it was now solved by devising a kind of protracted warfare (see Chapter 3), which also helped to keep public morale at the necessary height.From the standpoint of the present rulers, therefore, the only real threat is whether a new capable, power-hungry, underutilized group will splinter out of their own ranks; in other words, it is a question of education , It is to constantly shape the awareness of the leading group and the larger executive group that follows it.As for the consciousness of the masses, it only needs to be influenced from the negative side.

From this background one can infer, even without familiarity, the general social structure of Oceania.At the top of the pyramid is Big Brother, who is omnipotent and always right.All achievements, victories, every scientific discovery, all knowledge, wisdom, happiness, and virtue come directly from the leadership and inspiration of Big Brother.No one ever saw Big Brother, he was only pictured on placards and broadcast on telescreens.We can be pretty sure he won't die, but the time of his birth is hard to pin down.Big Brother is the incarnation of the Party. The Party uses him to present itself to the world. His function is to become a center where all kinds of emotions, such as love, fear, and respect, that are more likely to be directed to individuals than to organizations, converge at this point.Below Big Brother is the Inner Party, limited to six million, or two per cent of the population of Oceania.Below the core party is the peripheral party; if the core party is said to be the brain of the country, it is the limbs of the country.Then there is the insensitive mass we are accustomed to call the "proletarians," who constitute about eighty-five per cent of the population, and according to our earlier classification, they are the lower class.As for the slave population of the equatorial region, which was continually passed from one ruler to another, this part was not a permanent or necessary part of the whole structure.

In principle, the qualifications for forming the three parts are not hereditary, and theoretically the descendants of the Inner Party are not born as Inner Party members.When a man turns sixteen, he takes an examination to determine which part of the party he enters.Neither racial discrimination nor local advantages existed.Jews, Negroes, South Americans of pure Indian blood, were to be found at the highest levels of the party; the chief executive of a place was more often than not chosen from among the inhabitants of that place.Nowhere in Oceania does one feel that one is a colonist ruled by some distant capital.Oceania has no capital, and no one knows where its nominal head is.Except that English is its main mixed language and Newspeak is the official language, there is no unity in other aspects.Rulers are united not by blood, but by common adherence to a certain doctrine.It is true that there is stratification in our society, and it is a very strict stratification, which is based on what seems at first glance to be a hereditary standard.Mobility between groups is less common than it was in capitalism, or even in pre-industrial civilizations.There was some turnover between the two parts of the party, but only to weed out indecisive members of the inner party, while allowing ambitious members of the outer party a chance to advance and thereby eliminate their threat.In practice, the proletariat cannot leap into the party.Treat the most gifted among them as potential centers of discontent, as long as the Thought Police mark them out and then eliminate them.But all this may not always remain the same, nor is it a principle.The party is no longer a faction in the sense it used to be, and its purpose is not to transfer power to its children; if there is no way to get the best people at the top, it is perfectly willing to recruit some people from the level of the proletariat. A whole new generation of leaders.This point, that the party was not a hereditary institution, did a great deal in some critical years to eliminate dissenting opinion.Old-fashioned socialists, who were trained to abolish so-called "class privileges," all decided that, as long as the system wasn't hereditary, it wouldn't last.He neither saw that the continuation of the oligarchy may not necessarily be manifested in the physical aspect, nor did he stop to think about it. Hereditary aristocracy is often short-lived, while an organization that implements a selection system like the Catholic Church can sometimes last for hundreds or thousands of years.The core of oligarchy rule is not the inheritance relationship between father and son, but the consistency of a certain world view, a certain way of life, imposed by the dead on the living.A ruling group is a ruling group as long as it can choose its own successor.What the Party cares about is not the immortality of its own blood, but its own immortality.It doesn't matter who wields the power, as long as the hierarchy remains the same.

The true purpose of all the beliefs, habits, tastes, passions, and mentalities peculiar to our time is to preserve the mystique of the Party and to prevent the true nature of present society from being discovered.Actual rebellion, or any premeditation of rebellion, is currently out of the question.The proletariat has nothing to worry about. As far as they are concerned, they have worked, reproduced, and died generation after generation, century after century, without any impulse to resist, and without the ability to understand that the world could be anything but the way it is. what it looks like.They become dangerous only when the development of industrial technology makes higher education necessary; but now that military and commercial strife are no longer important, the educational level of the population is actually declining.Whether the opinion of the masses is for or against can be considered irrelevant.But on the other hand, even the slightest deviation from the party members in the most trivial matters is intolerable.

Party members are under the watchful eye of the Thought Police from birth to death.Even when he is alone, he cannot guarantee that he is alone.Wherever he is, sleeping or lying down, working or resting, in the bathroom or in bed, he can be watched without warning and without knowing it.Nothing he does is inconsequential.His making friends, resting, his attitude towards his family, his expression when he was alone, his babbling in dreams, and even his special body posture are all under scrutiny with suspicion.Leaving aside actual escapades, any slight deviation, any change in habits, any neurotic habitual movement that might reflect an inner conflict, would be detected.He cannot show any movement.On the other hand, his conduct is not governed by law, or by any articulated code of conduct.There are no laws in Oceania.Thoughts and deeds which, if detected, must be executed are not officially prohibited, and countless purges, arrests, tortures, imprisonments and vaporizations are made not as punishment for crimes actually committed, but merely for those who may commit them at some future time mopping up.Party members must not only have correct thinking, but also have correct instincts.Many beliefs and attitudes that he must hold are not clearly stated; and once explained, it is bound to expose the inherent contradictions in Ingsoc theory.If he is a natural orthodox (which in Newspeak is called a good mind), he knows at any moment what is right belief and what is acceptable feeling without thinking.In any case, the carefully orchestrated mental training he had undergone in childhood, centered on Newspeak words such as crime cessation, black and white, and doublethink, made him unwilling and unable to think deeply about any problem.

As a party member, he should have no personal feelings, nor should there be any relaxation in his fanaticism.He should always live in the strong hatred of foreign enemies and internal traitors, in the joy and praise of victory, and completely bow to the strength and wisdom of the party.His dissatisfaction with the lack of life is deliberately directed outwards and dispelled through arrangements such as the two-minute hatred ritual; while the thinking that may lead to suspicion and rebellion will be killed early because of the inner training he received in his early years.The first and simplest step in this training, the Newspeak call to stop crime, can be done with little children.It refers to the ability to stop suddenly, almost instinctively, when thinking is on the verge of danger. This includes a refusal to see similarities, a refusal to speculate on logical errors, and even the simplest and clearest arguments against Ingsoc. It should be distorted, and any thoughts that can lead to heresy are disgusted and repelled.Simply put, crime cessation implies defensive stupidity.But stupidity is not enough; on the contrary, orthodoxy in the full sense of the word requires complete control over its own intellectual processes, as a contortionist controls his body.Oceania society is ultimately based on the belief that Big Brother is omniscient and the Party is infallible, but since in reality Big Brother is not omniscient and the Party is not invariably correct, it is necessary to deal with facts all the time, Never tire of maintaining a flexibility.A key word in this regard is black and white.The word, like so much Newspeak, has two contradictory meanings: when it refers to the enemy, it connotes a style of shameless misrepresentation of facts; It means being loyal and proactive when party discipline demands that black be white.But it also means an ability to believe that black is white, and even to know that black is white, to forget past different beliefs.This required a constant falsification of history, which was possible thanks to a body of thought called doublethink in Newspeak, which included virtually all other methods.

There are two reasons for falsification of history, one of which is supplementary, and thus preventive, namely, that party members endure the present situation like the proletarians because they have no reference.He must be cut off from history, just as he must be cut off from foreign countries, because he must be convinced that his life is better than that of his predecessors, that the average level of material life is constantly improving.But a far more important reason is the need to preserve the party's image of infallibility.In order to show that the party's forecasts are correct in all cases, not only must the various speeches, statistics, and documents be constantly updated, but no changes in party doctrine and political alliances must be admitted.For to change one's mind, even one's policy, is to admit one's own cowardice.For example, if Eastasia or Eurasia (whichever) is an enemy now, it must have been our enemy historically.If the facts are not so, the facts must be revised.So history is constantly being rewritten.For the stability of the regime, the day-to-day falsification of history by the Ministry of Truth is as indispensable as the suppression and surveillance work by the Ministry of Love.

The variability of history is a central tenet of Ingsoc.It believes that there are no objectively existing historical events, and historical events only exist in written records and in people's memory.Whenever various records and memories coincide with each other, that is history.Since the party completely controls all kinds of records, it also controls the thoughts of its members, which means that history is something that the party can process at will.Also, although history is still changing, it never has in any particular instance.Because once it is re-concocted according to our present needs, then this current version is history, and no history different from it will exist anymore.This is true even when the same event changes beyond recognition several times in a year -- which happens quite often.The Party has absolute truth at all times, and, obviously, absolute truth always has been what it is.It will be seen later that the domination of the past depends primarily on the training of memory.It is a mere mechanical job to ensure that all written records conform to today's orthodoxy, but it must be remembered that all events conform to the party's wishes.At the same time, if it is necessary to readjust human memory and modify written records, it is also necessary to forget that we have done so.This trick is as learnable as any other intellectual device.Most party members, all intelligent orthodox people, have learned this trick.In Oldspeak this is quite frankly called "domination of reality"; in Newspeak it is called doublethink, though there is much more to it.

Doublethink means the ability to hold two contradictory beliefs in one's mind at the same time and to accept both.The party intellectual knows which direction his memory should go, and knows that he is playing with history, but after being trained in doublethink, he will feel at ease that doing so does not violate history.This process must be conscious, otherwise it will not be as accurate as it should be; but it must be unconscious, otherwise it will produce a sense of fraud and even guilt.Doublethink is at the heart of Ingsoc, because the very nature of party behavior is to use conscious deceit while retaining the firmness to purpose that only absolute honesty can produce.Willfully telling lies while sincerely believing in them; forgetting incongruous facts and then recalling them from memory whenever necessary, for as long as the Party needs; denying the existence of objective facts while taking prudent The reality of denial, all this, is indispensable, inevitable.Even when the word doublethink is used, doublethink has to be done.Because when we use the word we admit that we are falsifying reality; then do a little doublethink and we throw away that awareness.Going on like this over and over again, the lie is always one step ahead of the truth.In the end, it was by doublethink that the party was able, for all we know, probably for thousands of years, to stop the course of history.

All the oligarchy in the past will collapse, either because of hardening or softening.They either became stupid and arrogant, unable to adjust themselves to changing circumstances, and were overthrown; or they became enlightened and weak, gave in when violence should be used, and were also overthrown.That is to say, their downfall was either conscious or unconscious.The success of the party is manifested in its ideological system. In this system, the above two conditions can coexist at the same time. If any other ideology is used as the foundation, the party's leadership position cannot be permanent.Whoever governs, and to make it last, must be able to confuse men's consciousness of reality.For the secret of governing is to believe that you are always right and to be able to learn from your past mistakes. Needless to say, the most cunning of all practitioners of doublethink are those who invent it, knowing that it is a whole set of intellectual tricks.In our society, the people who know the most about what is is the one who sees the world not just as it is.Generally speaking, the more a person knows, the more he is deceived; the smarter he is, the more abnormal his mind is.An obvious example is that the higher a person's social status is, the stronger is a kind of war hysteria. --It is the ruled people in disputed areas who can view war with the most rational attitude.For these people, war is just a constant catastrophe that washes over their bodies like a constant tide.It doesn't matter to them which side wins.They know that a change of master just means that they still have to do the same things because the new master will treat them the same way as the old master. --The less well-off workers, whom we call "proletarians," are only occasionally aware of the war.They, too, are stirred up to intense fear and hatred if need be; but when alone they forget for a long time that the war is on. --It is only at the party level, especially in the Inner Party, that we can discover true war fanaticism.Those who know the world is impossible to conquer have the strongest belief in it.This strange encounter of knowledge with ignorance, cynicism with blind faith, is a cardinal feature of Oceanian society.The official ideology is full of contradictions even without any real reason.The party rejects and criticizes all the principles originally advocated by the socialist movement, but in the name of socialism.It propagated unprecedented levels of discrimination against the working class, yet its party members once again wore the work clothes of manual labourers, and adopted them for that very reason.It systematically breaks down family ties, but it appeals directly to a family sentiment in its title of leader.Even the four departments that rule us are named in a deliberate and shameless way of distorting the facts.The Ministry of Peace is concerned with war, the Ministry of Truth with lying, the Ministry of Love with torture, and the Ministry of Plenty with famine.These contradictions are not accidental, nor are they the result of general hypocrisy; they are a deliberate practice of doublethink.Because only by reconciling contradictions can power be permanent, and no other method can break the ancient cycle.If equality for all is to be forever averted, if what we call superiority is to remain forever in its place, the prevailing state of mind must be one of tempered madness. But there is another problem that we have paid little attention to until now.That is, why avoid achieving human equality?Assuming that this process is indeed as we said, then what is the purpose of freezing history at a certain moment so deliberately and at any cost? Here we see the most important secret.As we have seen, the mystique of the party, especially the Inner Party, rests on doublethink.But there is a more primitive motive behind it all, an instinct that has never been questioned, which led men to power in the first place, and which later gave rise to doublethink, the thought police, protracted warfare, and other byproducts.The motivation is actually... Winston found the silence all around him, and it was as if he had discovered a new sound.He felt that Julia had not moved for a long time.She was on her side, bare from the waist up, her cheek resting in her hands, a lock of black hair falling over her eyes.Her breasts rose and fell slowly, with regularity. "Julia?" She didn't answer. "Julia, are you up?" Still no answer.She is asleep.He closed the book, placed it carefully on the floor, lay down, and pulled the coverlet over them both. He thought, after all, he didn't understand the ultimate secret.He knows how; but he doesn't know why.The first chapter is the same as the third chapter. In fact, it doesn't say anything he doesn't know, but it makes his existing knowledge more systematic.After reading it, however, it became clearer to him than ever that he was not mad at all.Being a minority, even a one-man minority, doesn't drive you crazy.Truth exists, as does untruth; if you stick to the truth, even if the whole world is against you, you are still not crazy.The west slanting sun cast a golden light through the window and slanted on the pillow.He closed his eyes.The sun shone on his face, and the girl's smooth body was pressed against his body, which made him feel extremely confident and became sleepy.He was safe and everything was fine.When he was falling asleep, he murmured, "There is no way to count people who are mentally sound." He felt that this sentence contained profound wisdom. * * * When he woke up, he felt that he had slept for a long time, but when he looked at the old-fashioned clock, it was only twenty thirty.He lay down and dozed; but from the courtyard below came the usual deep singing: "Just hopeless wild thoughts, Just like the rush of spring. Unexpectedly, with a frown and a smile, spring dreams grow, It made me lose my mind and have no idea! " This gibberish ditty is so popular that it can be heard all over the world.It must outlive that hate song.Julia was awakened by the singing, stretched luxuriously, and got up. "Very hungry," she said. "Just make some more coffee. Damn it! The stove is out and the water is cold." She picked up the stove and shook it. "It's out of gas." "I think we can ask old Charrington for more." "Strange, I must be full. I have to get dressed," she added, "seems colder than before." Winston got up too and dressed.The tireless voice sang again: "They say time heals wounds, People say that after a long time, you will forget; But I don't know that smiles and tears are too hesitant, Ended up in a world long empty heartbroken! " He tied up the belt of his overalls and walked to the window.The sun must have set behind the house, and there was no sunlight in the yard.The slate was wet, as if it had just been washed; he only felt that the sky had also been washed, and when he looked through the chimney, he saw it was a clear blue.The woman was still walking back and forth tirelessly, sometimes taking out the clips in her mouth, sometimes singing a little tune and sometimes stopping, endlessly drying the diapers.Maybe she'd do laundry for a living, or be a cow for twenty or thirty grandchildren.Julia came up to him, and together they stared fascinated at the stocky woman below.Look at how distinctive she looks like: thick arms raised on the rope, fat buttocks pouted like a mare.For the first time, he thought she was really pretty.I really didn't expect that a fifty-year-old woman, who gave birth to a child so fat that it was surprisingly fat, and did rough work until it was as rough as a ripe radish, could be beautiful.But in fact, it is like this, and why shouldn't it be beautiful?The sturdy figure has worn away the outline, but it is as beautiful as a piece of granite; the rough red skin is compared to the girl's skin, just as the fruit of the rose is to the rose.Why do you say that fruits are inferior to flowers? "She's so beautiful," he murmured. "Her ass is a meter wide," Julia said. "That's the beauty of her," said Winston. Julia's soft waist was held in his arms obediently.She clung to him from hip to knee.However, their bodies cannot produce children.This one thing they can never do.The secret of thought to thought, they can only pass on orally.The woman downstairs, she has no thoughts, only strong arms, a warm heart, and a fertile belly.Who knows how many children she had?There are fifteen?She was once in full bloom like a flower, perhaps as beautiful as a rose for one year, and then like a fertilized fruit, she suddenly swelled up, became hard, red and rough, so her life was full of laundry, Sweeping floors, mending clothes, cooking, sweeping floors, cleaning tables, mending, starching, and ironing, first for children, then for grandchildren, for thirty years.In the end, she can still sing!He felt a kind of mysterious reverence for her, which was also mixed with the clear scenery, the cloudless sky, extending to infinity behind the chimney.How strange, thinking that the sky is the same for everyone, whether it is here, Eurasia or Eastasia, what is the difference?And the people under the sky are the same -- people everywhere, people all over the world, millions of them, cut off from each other, knowing no one else, separated by walls of hate and lies.Yet they are so alike!They never knew their minds, yet their hearts, their bellies, their muscles, gather strength that will one day turn the world upside down.If there is hope, hope lies in the proles!He didn't need to read the last sentence of the book to know that was what Goldstein would end up saying.The future belongs to the proletarians.The world of the party is incompatible with Winston Smith; when the age of the proletarians comes, will the world they build be so incompatible?Can he be sure otherwise?Of course, because at least that world would be sane.Where there is equality, there is sanity.Such things happen sooner or later, and power always turns into consciousness.The proletarian is the eternal force, no one can doubt it when looking at the brave figure in the yard.In the end, their day of awakening will come.It may take a thousand years to wait for this day; before that, they will still overcome all unfavorable conditions and pass on their lives, just like birds, passing on the vitality that the party cannot possess or kill through the body. "Remember," he said, "our first day, that thrush sang to us at the edge of the wood?" "It didn't sing to us," said Julia. "It's just singing for its own pleasure. No—it's just singing." The birds sing, the proletarians sing, the party does not.All over the world, in London and New York, in Africa and Brazil, in mysterious forbidden lands beyond national borders, in the streets of Paris and Berlin, in the villages of the vast Russian wilderness, in the market places of China and Japan-everywhere stands that one In stature, strong and invincible, fat and fat from work and childbirth, she has worked hard all her life, but she still sings.One day, from their huge genitals, conscious humans will be born.You are a dead man, they are the future.However, if you can stick to the life of your mind like they stick to the life of the body, and pass on the mysterious law that two plus two equals four, you will also be able to share in the future. "We are dead people," he said. "We're dead people," agreed Julia obediently. "You are dead," said a sarcastic voice behind him. They jumped away suddenly.Winston's internal organs seemed to be frozen into a block of ice.He could see the whiteness around Julia's irises too.Her face was sallow, and the rouge remaining on her cheeks was particularly eye-catching, as if it had nothing to do with the skin below. "You are dead," repeated the mocking voice. "Behind the picture," Julia said softly. "Behind the picture," said the voice. "Stand where you are. Don't move without orders!" It's started, it's finally started!They stood there, helpless and could only look at each other.Run for your life, get out of the house before it's too late—it never even occurred to them.There was no disobedience to that sneering voice on the wall.There was another click, as if the window hook had been unscrewed, or as if a piece of glass had been broken.It turned out that the card had fallen to the floor, revealing a telescreen hidden behind it. "They can see us now," Julia said. "We can see you now," said the voice. "Stand in the middle of the room. Stand back to back. Put your hands behind your heads. Don't touch each other!" They didn't touch, but he felt Julia's body trembling.Perhaps it was his own body that was trembling.He tried his best to stop his teeth from trembling, but he couldn't control his knees no matter what.There was a sound of heavy footsteps inside and outside the house below, as if the yard was full of people.Something was dragged across the flagstones, and the woman's singing was suddenly interrupted.Something grunted again, as if the washtub had been pushed across the yard.Then there was a babble of angry voices, and finally a scream of pain. "The house is surrounded," said Winston. "The house is surrounded," said the voice. He heard Julia clench her teeth. "I'm afraid we must say goodbye," she said. "You have to say goodbye," said the voice.Then came another voice, a feeble, sculpted voice, which Winston thought he had heard before: "And, before we finish, a candle will light you to sleep, and a machete will cut off your head!" Behind Winston, something fell on the bed.It was a ladder that had come in through the window and smashed the frame.Some people climbed into the house through the window.There was also a sound of chaotic footsteps on the stairs, and the room was immediately filled with big men in black.They all wore leather boots with iron soles and carried rubber clubs in their hands. Winston stopped trembling and did not even roll his eyes.Only one thing matters: don't move a bit, don't move a bit, don't give them an excuse to beat you!A guy with the bare jaw of a boxer and a mouth so narrow that it was just a slit stood before him with a rubber stick between his thumb and forefinger.Winston looked him in the eye.Putting his hands behind his head, his face and body were exposed, and the feeling of being undressed was too much for him.The guy stuck out the tip of his white tongue, licked what should be his lips, and walked away.At this time, there was another bang, and it turned out that someone picked up the glass paperweight on the table and smashed it on the hearthstone. Those coral fragments, those little red grains, like sugar buds on a cake, rolled all over the ground.So small, always so small!Behind Winston, someone gasped, and then, with a bang, he had been kicked so hard in the ankle that he almost fell to the ground.The other guy punches Julia on the temple, knocking her over.She fell to the ground and rolled around, trying desperately to catch her breath.Winston dared not move his head at all, but sometimes he could still see her livid face.Even though he was terribly frightened, he still felt as if the pain was on his body, and this severe pain was more urgent than being out of breath.He knew what it was like: excruciating pain, but not only unbearable pain, because somehow he had to catch his breath first.One of the two guys grabbed her knees, the other pulled her shoulders, lifted her up, and carried her out like a sack.Winston glanced at her upside-down face, sallow and distorted, with eyes closed and a little smear of makeup on it--this was the last time he saw her. He stood motionless.No one has come to beat him yet.Various thoughts ran into his mind for no reason, but he was not interested at all.Have they got Mr Charrington?What did they do to that woman in the yard?He couldn't hold back his urine, which was strange, he had done so two or three hours ago.The clock on the mantelpiece said nine, so it must be blackjack.But it was still bright outside.Could it be that it's already twenty o'clock in the evening in August, and it's not dark yet?Not that he and Julia got the time wrong--they slept around and it was twenty-thirty when it was eight-thirty the next morning.But he didn't think about it.What's the point. There was a soft step in the corridor, and Mr. Charrington stepped through the door.Those men in black immediately calmed down.Mr. Charrington looked a little different, too.He fixed his eyes on the shards of the glass paperweight. "Pick up the fragment," he snapped. A man bowed and obeyed.The Cockney accent was gone, and Winston suddenly recognized whose voice he had heard a few minutes before on the telescreen.Mr. Charrington, still in his old black velvet jacket, but his hair, which used to be almost white, was now black.He didn't wear glasses either.He gave Winston a stern glance, as if to authenticate him, and paid him no further attention.Even if he could still recognize him, he was no longer the same person.He was upright and seemed to be taller.His face had become very small, but his expression had completely changed.The black eyebrows are no longer so thick, the wrinkles are no longer visible, and the outline of the face has become another look.Even the nose seems to be shorter.This is obviously a vigilant and calm face, and he is only thirty-five years old!It was the first time in his life, Winston thought, that he had seen the Thought Police knowingly.