The goal is not to stay alive
I recently read 1984 by George Orwell.
One line in that book just destroyed me.
Despite its unsettling descriptions of a dystopian future (and uncanny resemblances to a few certain aspects of modern life), 1984 holds many tender, beautiful moments inside its covers.
With light spoilers ahead, allow me to share one of those moments that struck me deeply.
Winston lives in a society controlled by an evil political party. They employ a police force called the “thought police.” Their goal is not only to enforce lawful behavior, but to punish people for even the slightest word or notion of disobedience. Winston lives in constant fear of the thought police, and he continually monitors his facial expressions and actions. Even though he hates the political party in power, he lives in constant fear of being discovered, tortured, and killed.
Eventually, against the law, Winston strikes up a romantic relationship with a woman named Julia. They encounter each other in hiding, secretly falling in love and experiencing—for the first time in Winston’s life—a real sense of raw, beautiful humanity.
In a conversation with Julia about halfway through the book, they come to grips with the likelihood that they will be discovered. They realize they will eventually be caught, tortured, and killed. After this conversation, Winston has a thought…
“One did not know what happened inside the Ministry of Love, but it was possible to guess: tortures, drugs, delicate instruments that registered your nervous reactions, gradual wearing-down by sleeplessness and solitude and persistent questioning. Facts, at any rate, could not be kept hidden. They could be tracked down by enquiry, they could be squeezed out of you by torture. But if the object was not to stay alive but to stay human, what difference did it ultimately make?”
That last sentence killed me.
“…the object was not to stay alive but to stay human…”
This life, the things beyond our control, those in power, sickness, disasters, anger, violence, injustice…
These things may very well be the death of us, in the end.
But we were all dead men from the beginning anyway.
The object is not to stay alive. It’s to stay human.
