Spain had been rashly quixotic, Orwellnlived to settle matters with his pen. hi thenend, his works would help discomfit thentotalitarianism he so despised.nOrwell triumphed because he refusednto be sophisticated by what he called inn1940 “the smelly little orthodoxies whichnare now contending for our souls.” Meyersnenables us to understand the originsnof Orwell’s resistance to changing politicalnfashions. Everything in his varied lifenhad taught him that what passes for sophisticationnis all too often die kind of rationalizationnthat permits people to behavenunspeakably. He had witnessednfirsthand sophisticated ideologues justifyingntorture and murder to achieve theirngoals. But it was not just ideologues.nWhile an imperial policeman, Orwellnhad abused the Burmese, justifying himselfnon grounds of necessify: There wasnno other way to maintain colonial order.nHe even beat his native sei”vants. “I hadnhit them with my fist in moments ofnrage,” he would later confess, adding bynway of extenuation that “orientals can benver’ provoking.” Orwell’s knowledge ofnpolitical brutality and intolerance wasnnever merely tiieoretical: He knew whatnpeople were capable ofnFrom these experiences, Orwell concludednthat, once people are pried fromntheir unsophisticated belief in moral absolutesnthat transcend political expedience,nthey are all too ready to do whatevernthose in power bid. As O’Brien, thenGrand hiquisitor of J 984, explains to thenthoughtcriminal Winston Smith, a wellrunnstate requires that trutii be a politicallynmanaged consensus rather than an objectivenrealih’. hi other words, if you cannget people to believe in anything, youncan get them to do anything—sell dopento the indigent, shoot the politically unreliable,nor drop bombs on innocent populations.nIn such a world, concentrationncamps and gulags come as no surprise.nAlthough a professed atheist, Orwell wasnhonest enough not to duck this issue, hin1949, he addressed it from his deathbednwith a directness wortiiy of the staunchlynRoman Catiiolic Waugh: “The problemnof the world is this: Can we get men tonbehave decently to each other if they nonlonger believe in God?”nAt its heart, J 984 is much more than anpolitical novel. It is a profound investigationninto ejjistemologieal and theologicalnquestions that have bedeviled usnthroughout history —and with specialnurgency in our age, when belief hasnfoundered and many intellectuals havenconcluded tiiat objective truth is merelyna nostalgic mirage. These sophisticatesnhave convinced themselves that we havenno certain knowledge of anything beyondntiie signs and symbols we create, ancondition that licenses the cognoscenti tondo consciously what they believe humannbeings have always done unconsciously—namely,ninvent their own reality.nThis is the message O’Brien preaches.nHaving accejDted tiie premise that there isnno realify except that which is “within thenskull,” he puts forth a doctrine of collectivensolipsism in which the totalitariannstate is the ultimate arbiter of truth. History,nscience, morality—they must allnsubmit to the needs of government. Winstonnargues desperately against this perversenphilosophy. He wants to believenthat there is some standard of trutli externalnto the human will, some absolutelynfixed fulcrum u]30n vvliieh human beingsnmight exert tiie lever of their individualitynagainst the juggernaut of the state.nWithout belief in God, however, he findsnhe can only appeal impotently to then”Spirit of Man,” a will-o’-the-wisp O’Briennhas no tiouble brushing away.nBy convincing Winston that two plusnhvo equals five, O’Brien presses state propagandanto its logically absurd conclusion.nGovernments have always strivennto convince their citizens that nonsensenis truth and viciousness is moral. Nationalnleaders of the last century convincedntheir citizens that sacrificing lives in thentens of millions was necessary to achievenUtopia. More recently, we have enduredna leader who had no compunction aboutninforming us that the meaning of “is” isnendlessly disputable and that killingnhealthy unborn children, far from beingnan unspeakable crime, is nothing lessnthan an unimpeachable moral right.nThese are the dehumanizing consequencesnof O’Brien’s brand of sophisticatednatheism.nAs Meyers amply demonstrates, Orwellnwas a sworn enemy of O’Brien’s sophisticationnwell before writing J 984. Henfought intellectual sophistry on everynfront, at the risk of prosperify’, health, andneven life itself He stood for individual liberfy-nagainst what he perceived to be an increasinglynmachine-regimented life in then20th eentur’ and shunned what GeorgenBowling, his protagonist in Coming Up fornAir (1939), calls the ersatz, streamlinednwodd of modern life. Like Gordon Conistock,nthe protagonist of his second novel,nKeep the Aspiclifstra Flying (1936), he wasnnnimmune to the blandishments of urban,nmiddle-class existence. During his finalnten years (when he was most at risk fromnthe tuberculosis that would kill him inn1950), he chose to live in a primitive cottagenin Wallington before moving on tonJura, a sparsely populated, inhospitable islandnofiF the Scottish coast. He needed ton]3lay the role of the prophet who retreats tonthe wilderness in order to see his sociefynaccurately.nAs many have pointed out, Orwell’snprophecies did not come true. He nevernintended, however, to foretell the future.nHe was a prophet in the sense that henrevealed the immoral tendencies of hisntime, exaggerating what he had wibiessednas an agent of British imperialism and anwartime propagandist for the BBC. Andnperhaps die political nighhiiare he imaginednnever materialized precisely becausenJ 984 was published. His cautionary visionnmay have put the world on alert.nMeyers has done a superbly thoroughnjob of presenting the flawed, difficult mannwho was born Eric Blair, a man seriouslyndivided within himself As Blair, he hadnenjoyed the perks of imperialism, includingnthe services of menials and youngnprostitutes cheaply available to a Brit innBurma; as Orwell, he hated himself fornparticipating in a colonial system that degradednboth the ruled and the ruler. AsnBlair, he did not refrain from caning hisnstudents during his brief stint at schoolmasteringnin Middlesex; as Orwell, he despisednbullying in all its forms. As Blair,nhe yearned to smash fascist faces; as Orwell,nhe railed against the brutalify thatnwar permits. This Jekyll-and-Hyde tension,nthough it must have been uncomfortable,nis hardly unusual, especially inncreative minds. Would Joseph Conradnhave been so effective in unmasking thensqualid egoism underlying romantic idealismnhad he not been drawn to it himself?nWould Waugh have been as effectivena critic of technological modernifynhad he not gadded about on motorcyclesnand parachuted from planes? We all harborncontradictory urges, but artists feelnflieni more urgentiy. This is why fliey arencompelled to resolve them in their art.nEric Blair never lived under totalitarianism,nbut he did harbor autocratic impulsesnthat enabled him to recognize intiiitivelynthe consequences of absolute power. Tondeal with his inner conflict, he becamenGeorge Orwell—to the inestimable benefitnof everyone living today and, I hope, tonfliose who will come after us.nJUNE 2001/27n