Orwell had it right.
What we can learn from a pig.
Let’s read some Orwell!

 

Old Major’s Speech in Animal Farm

All the animals were now present except Moses, the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the
back door. When Major saw that they had all made themselves comfortable and were waiting
attentively, he cleared his throat and began:

“Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to
the dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you
for many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have
acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think
I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. It is about
this that I wish to speak to you.

“Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable,
laborious, and short. We are born, we are given just so much food as will keep the breath in our
bodies, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength; and
the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No
animal in England knows the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in
England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth.

“But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot
afford a decent life to those who dwell upon it? No, comrades, a thousand times no! The soil of
England is fertile, its climate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance to an enormously
greater number of animals than now inhabit it. This single farm of ours would support a dozen
horses, twenty cows, hundreds of sheep–and all of them living in a comfort and a dignity that are
now almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this miserable condition? Because
nearly the whole of the produce of our labour is stolen from us by human beings. There, comrades, is
the answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single word–Man. Man is the only real enemy
we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for
ever.

“Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, he does not lay
eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough, he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all
the animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that will prevent them
from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet
there is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how many
thousands of gallons of milk have you given during this last year? And what has happened to that
milk which should have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down the throats
of our enemies. And you hens, how many eggs have you laid in this last year, and how many of those
eggs ever hatched into chickens? The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for Jones and his
men. And you, Clover, where are those four foals you bore, who should have been the support and
pleasure of your old age? Each was sold at a year old–you will never see one of them again. In return
for your four confinements and all your labour in the fields, what have you ever had except your bare
rations and a stall?

“And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their natural span. For myself I do not
grumble, for I am one of the lucky ones. I am twelve years old and have had over four hundred
children. Such is the natural life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in the end. You young
porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will scream your lives out at the block within
a year. To that horror we all must come–cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses and the
dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those great muscles of yours lose their power,
Jones will sell you to the knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds. As
for the dogs, when they grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick round their necks and drowns them
in the nearest pond.

“Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that all the evils of this life of ours spring from the tyranny of
human beings? Only get rid of Man, and the produce of our labour would be our own. Almost
overnight we could become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night and day, body and
soul, for the overthrow of the human race! That is my message to you, comrades: Rebellion! I do not
know when that Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I know, as
surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on
that, comrades, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of
mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry on the struggle until it is
victorious.

“And remember, comrades, your resolution must never falter. No argument must lead you astray.
Never listen when they tell you that Man and the animals have a common interest, that the prosperity
of the one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the interests of no creature except
himself. And among us animals let there be perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle. All
men are enemies. All animals are comrades.”

At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major was speaking four large rats had crept
out of their holes and were sitting on their hindquarters, listening to him. The dogs had suddenly
caught sight of them, and it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the rats saved their lives.
Major raised his trotter for silence.

“Comrades,” he said, “here is a point that must be settled. The wild creatures, such as rats and
rabbits–are they our friends or our enemies? Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the
meeting: Are rats comrades?”

The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming majority that rats were comrades.

There were only four dissentients, the three dogs and the cat, who was afterwards discovered to have
voted on both sides.

Major continued:

“I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty of enmity towards Man and all
his ways. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a
friend. And remember also that in fighting against Man, we must not come to resemble him. Even
when you have conquered him, do not adopt his vices. No animal must ever live in a house, or sleep
in a bed, or wear clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage in trade. All
the habits of Man are evil. And, above all, no animal must ever tyrannise over his own kind. Weak or
strong, clever or simple, we are all brothers. No animal must ever kill any other animal. All animals
are equal.

“And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I cannot describe that dream to you.
It was a dream of the earth as it will be when Man has vanished. But it reminded me of something
that I had long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and the other sows used
to sing an old song of which they knew only the tune and the first three words. I had known that tune
in my infancy, but it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came back to me in
my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also came back-words, I am certain, which were
sung by the animals of long ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that
song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have taught you the tune, you can
sing it better for yourselves. It is called ‘Beasts of England’.”

Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his voice was hoarse, but he sang well
enough, and it was a stirring tune, something between ‘Clementine’ and ‘La Cucaracha’. The words
ran:

Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.

Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o’erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.

Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.

Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.

For that day we all must labour,
Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom’s sake.

Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well and spread my tidings
Of the golden future time.

The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement. Almost before Major had
reached the end, they had begun singing it for themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already
picked up the tune and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and dogs, they
had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then, after a few preliminary tries, the whole
farm burst out into ‘Beasts of England’ in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it,
the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They were so delighted with the
song that they sang it right through five times in succession, and might have continued singing it all
night if they had not been interrupted.

Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed, making sure that there was a fox
in the yard. He seized the gun which always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of
number 6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of the barn and the
meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their
perches, the animals settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.