Oldal 111 [111]
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....
The psychology of hate is that hatred in a crowd is a remarkably
democratic thing, it sucks in a person greedily.
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...
It makes no difference whether Goldstein is Goldstein or someone
else. It also does not matter whether he even exists. The point is
the hate itself.
Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable
exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the
room.... 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....