The horrible thing
about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but that
it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretence was
always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to
kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge hammer, seemed to flow
through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even
against one’s will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that
one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one
object to another like the flame of a blowlamp.
- George
Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four
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