US Military Not Told of Turkish Air Attack

's voices -- had burst from a
side-street a little way ahead. It was a great formidable cry of anger and
despair, a deep, loud 'Oh-o-o-o-oh!' that went humming on like the
reverberation of a bell. His heart had leapt. It's started! he had thought.
A riot! The proles are breaking loose at last! When he had reached the spot
it was to see a mob of two or three hundred women crowding round the stalls
of a street market, with faces as tragic as though they had been the doomed
passengers on a sinking ship. But at this moment the general despair broke
down into a multitude of individual quarrels. It appeared that one of the
stalls had been selling tin saucepans. They were wretched, flimsy things,
but cooking-pots of any kind were always difficult to get. Now the supply
had unexpectedly given out. The successful women, bumped and jostled by the
rest, were trying to make off with their saucepans while dozens of others
clamoured round the stall, accusing the stall-keeper of favouritism and of
having more saucepans somewhere in reserve. There was a fresh outburst of
yells. Two bloated women, one of them with her hair coming down, had got
hold of the same saucepan and were trying to tear it out of one another's
hands. For a moment they were both tugging, and then the handle came off.
Winston watched them disgustedly. And yet, just for a moment, what almost
frightening power had sounded in that cry from only a few hundred throats!
Why was it that they could never shout like that about anything that
mattered?
He wrote:

Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after
they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.

That, he reflected, might almost have been a transcription from one of
the Party textbooks. The Party claimed, of course, to have liberated