[fhayek]

I think I heard Mark Steyn remark a little while ago. He said the mark of a totalitarian state was not that everyone believed the lies, but that everyone did not believe the lies, but were forced to accept them as truth anyway. It is the ultimate humiliation, and the ultimate oppression. Your are denied access to your common sense. You are a prisoner of your own mind.

[Sergio]

Great analysis by Mr. Steyn and yourself. Thanks for posting.

[ProtectOurFreedom]

Excellent observation by Mr. Steyn. It is a derivative of this excellent scene written by Mr. Orwell:

O'Brien held up his left hand, its back towards Winston, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended.

'How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?'

'Four.'

'And if the party says that it is not four but five -- then how many?'

'Four.'

The word ended in a gasp of pain. The needle of the dial had shot up to fifty-five. The sweat had sprung out all over Winston's body. The air tore into his lungs and issued again in deep groans which even by clenching his teeth he could not stop. O'Brien watched him, the four fingers still extended. He drew back the lever. This time the pain was only slightly eased.

'How many fingers, Winston?'

'Four.'

The needle went up to sixty.

'How many fingers, Winston?'

'Four! Four! What else can I say? Four!'

The needle must have risen again, but he did not look at it. The heavy, stern face and the four fingers filled his vision. The fingers stood up before his eyes like pillars, enormous, blurry, and seeming to vibrate, but unmistakably four.

'How many fingers, Winston?' 'Four! Stop it, stop it! How can you go on? Four! Four!'

'How many fingers, Winston?'

'Five! Five! Five!'

'No, Winston, that is no use. You are lying. You still think there are four. How many fingers, please?'

'Four! five! Four! Anything you like. Only stop it, stop the pain!'

Abruptly he was sitting up with O'Brien's arm round his shoulders. He had perhaps lost consciousness for a few seconds. The bonds that had held his body down were loosened. He felt very cold, he was shaking uncontrollably, his teeth were chattering, the tears were rolling down his cheeks. For a moment he clung to O'Brien like a baby, curiously comforted by the heavy arm round his shoulders. He had the feeling that O'Brien was his protector, that the pain was something that came from outside, from some other source, and that it was O'Brien who would save him from it.

'You are a slow learner, Winston,' said O'Brien gently.

'How can I help it?' he blubbered. 'How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four.'

'Sometimes, Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane.'

It is not easy to become sane.

That bears repeating..."It is not easy to become sane."

We are clearly, indisputably, unequivocally headed down this path. And many of our fellow citizens, especially millennials educated in the public indoctrination system, support it. Unfortunately, they are so well indoctrinated that they cannot see it all around them.

It's been said many times, but is truer than ever: "1984" was meant to be a warning to us, not an instruction manual.