This is a travel day for the pond, but instead of reheating some old reptile mush, the pond wanted to return to a promise it made some time ago, and now likely forgotten by everybody ...
It began with a comment by an esteemed correspondent, hailing the Chairman Emeritus in prophet, seer, sage, visionary, futurist mode ...
One wonders about contributors tapping ‘Orwellian’ into their word count. Their Chairman Emeritus is on record with opinions on the person who wrote as George Orwell.
It was back in 1993, when Rupert was giving the Bonython Lecture for the Centre for Independent Studies. He was introduced by Maurice Newman (how little do things change) and offered thoughts grouped under a title of sorts ‘The Century of Networking’.
Rupert told his audience ‘We have it within our powers to make Australia an economic powerhouse in one of the brightest eras of human history.’ Then asked, rhetorically, why they were so surprised? Which took him to ‘George Orwell’s great futuristic novel ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’. Briefly, Orwell thought that technology would led to tyranny. He thought it would enormously enhance the power of the centralised totalitarian state, . . . . . . . summed up with . . . ‘Big Brother is watching you.’
So far so ‘Orwellian’. But, before ‘contributors sprinkle the cue word too widely, the Chairman continued ‘Nevertheless, the plain fact is that Orwell was wrong in his central prediction. Technology has not led to centralisation and tyranny - rather, the reverse.’
The Chairman then borrowed from an author who is now largely forgotten - Peter Huber - for further comment on Orwell getting it wrong. Huber was originally a scientist at MIT. He took issue with the slogan ‘ignorance is strength’, countering that, ‘In a system based on science, ignorance is not strength, it is weakness.’ Remember, this appealed greatly to Rupert 33 years ago. He went on ‘What makes Huber’s scenario the more convincing is that this sort of scientific and technological atrophy was exactly what destroyed the Soviet Union. Without freedom of inquiry, scientific inquiry just could not proceed.’
‘The second reason that Orwell was wrong, Huber argues, is in . . the slogan: “Freedom is slavery”. But freedom is not slavery. Specifically, free markets are not monopolies.’
To the clincher - in the words of Rupert ‘Orwell believed that free markets must lead to private monopoly and hence to the driving-down of living standards. He believed this because, like a lot of intellectuals who are accustomed to thinking about literature and politics, he had no real concept of the price mechanism. He thought that profits must be extorted by power. For example, he assumed that capitalists would always deliberately suppress innovation to keep profits high.’
‘Because capitalists are always trying to stab each other in the back, free markets do not lead to monopolies.’
The Chairman then meandered about, trying to show that any kind of intervention blighted the sanctity of markets; just happening to mention ‘the bone in Australia’s throat,’ its labour market, to praise the work of the Centre for Independent (?) Studies on labour laws.
Now, looking at the world that Rupert still inhabits - on balance, his assertions simply do not hold up. The one he borrowed from Huber about a system based on science has no place in the Untied States of America, now and for several years into the future - and his mass media were greatly influential in replacing science with ignorance - and presenting it as strength.
But his contributors will continue to use ‘Orwell’ as a cue word, because none of them ‘do’ irony.
This became something of a holy grail for the pond - well, what with the CIA having already having found the Ark with the help of a psychic, a search for the grail of the Emeritus Chairman's speech seemed like a goodly substitute.
Not good enough, not nearly good enough, but then
Trove coughed up the holy grail and the pond is proud to present it in full ... though it can also be found
here ...
The pond won't interrupt this visionary as he outlines his splendid futuristic vision, though as the pond's correspondent noted, ironies (and curiosities) abound ...
The 1994 John Bonython Lecture
'The Century of Networking'
Rupert Murdoch
(Delivered in Melbourne, October 20, 1994)
Let me start by saying what a great pleasure it is for me to be here tonight in Melbourne, the city of my birth. As so close once again to so many of the institutions that formed me – such as Toorak Presbyterian Church, where my grandfather occasionally preached, Geelong Grammar School – and even the Flemington Race Course.
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(The Emeritus Chairman has always been a deeply religious, deeply Xian man) |
It is also a pleasure, and a privilege, to be giving this year’s John Bonython Lecture for the Centre for Independent Studies.
Of course, I knew both John Bonython, and the distinguished Adelaide family from which he came, very well. I believe I may even have had a tiny hand in his introduction to the oil and gas business, where he made such a contribution to South Australia. Furthermore our families had a long and entertaining relationship through Advertiser Newspapers which, when I first became publisher of the Adelaide News in 1953, showed its commitment to competitive enterprise by making a determined effort to run me out of town! Eventually we declared an honourable draw. I am happy tonight to pay particular tribute to John Bonython’s memory.
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(John Lavington Bonython had a special cultural and aesthetic affinity with the Emeritus Chairman) |
The Centre for Independent Studies, of course, is one of the remarkable universe of similar think-tanks around the world. All are inspired with the principles of classical liberalism that are fundamental to our civilisation. Each one is now following its own independent course, but all can be traced back to a founding ‘big bang’, the celebrated Institute for Economic Affairs in London, which was such a powerful influence on the government of Margaret Thatcher.
And I note with great interest, incidentally, that the secret of all these institutes’ success seems to be that they each find strong individuals to lead them. This is very much in accordance with my own discovery that newspapers and media companies, which like think-tanks are basically in the ideas business, cannot be run by committee.
The Centre for Independent Studies has been fortunate indeed in Greg Lindsay. I believe its recent program called ‘Taking Children Seriously’, focusing on the impact of government policy upon the family and upon the child, is an important example of how abstract economic theory can be translated into the most urgent terms of flesh and blood.
I said a moment ago that the Centre has a sort of celestial relationship with the Institute for Economic Affairs and, of course, above the door of its London offices, the IEA has the famous lines with which John Maynard Keynes finished his General Theory. They go, and I quote:
"The ideas of economists and political philosophers, both when they are right and when they are wrong, are more powerful than is commonly understood. Indeed, the world is ruled by little else. Practical men, who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any intellectual influences, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist. Madmen in authority, who hear voices in the air, are distilling their frenzy from some academic scribbler of a few years back. I am sure that the power of vested interests is vastly exaggerated compared with the power of ideas."
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(A madman in a position of authority, distilling voices from the newsprint) |
Now, of course and contrary to some rumours, I am not ‘a madman in authority’ so I suppose I have to admit to being one of those ‘practical men’ – it is clearly true, however, that in the media business we are all ruled by ideas.
In the immediate sense, these are technological. Those of us who make our living by putting news and ideas and their audiences together face changes, triggered by science, that are no longer differences of degree: they amount to differences of kind. This is not so with all businesses. For example, in John Bonython’s oil and gas business, if I may say so, the issue, stripped to its essentials, is still that the oil is down there in the ground and you’ve got to get it up and out – faster, cheaper, more efficiently, no doubt – but still, up and out. By contrast, in the news business, because people keep on inventing things, it is not even clear who will be doing the editing in the future – whether the audience will accept a package of news or whether they will want programmed gadgets to select for themselves among all available news items, something that will be entirely feasible technically –let alone whether the system that delivers the news will be hard copy or electronic; and if electronic, whether by satellite, cable or cassette.
The news business is on running on a sort of metaphysical rolling log. It is what keeps us young. Or at least fit. However, there is a more general sense in which we in the media business are influenced by ideas. I don’t believe that you can contemplate the process of change in our business, and the wider effects that those changes have had upon society and upon the world, without being driven to broader conclusions about human affairs. Which is why, in the end, I am here tonight – and which is something I’ll return to later. Let me begin with a story. Almost exactly a hundred years ago, in May 1896, a young man, he was only just 30, sat in a London office awaiting the results of his latest publishing venture: the launch of a new popular daily newspaper, The Daily Mail. His name was Alfred Harmsworth. Later he was to become Lord Northcliffe – and later still, incidentally, he played a key role in the fortunes of my own family. According to legend, the future Lord Northcliffe had told his associates that launching The Daily Mail was a gamble that meant ‘bankruptcy or Berkeley Square’. And he had been in the office two straight days and two nights, getting the paper to press.
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(Harold Harmsworth, 1st Viscount Rothermere, Berchtesgadn, 7th January 1937, with a figure much admired by the Daily Mail) |
Finally, the sales reports came in. Northcliffe had gone on the record as hoping that The Daily Mail would sell 100,000 copies, but on that first day, it sold nearly 400,000. And it was well on its way to becoming the first English-language newspaper to reach the then miraculous mark of a million copies a day. Northcliffe responded to this with the poetry and high-mindedness we have come to expect from media moguls. Turning to his chief lieutenant, he said ‘We’ve struck a goldmine!’ I might note that this sort of instant success is very rare in publishing. Usually, you have to stick with a publication for long time until it finds its readers. It took twenty years before we made a profit on The Australian. Which I guess is another reason you can’t run media companies by investment managers.
Northcliffe’s launch of The Daily Mail was one of those magic moments that are both symptomatic and symbolic. He was the nexus, the nodal point on a network of profound forces that were developing in late nineteenth century society.
What suddenly came together that day in May 1896, was:
- firstly, that Britain’s rail system had created a national market;
- secondly, radical advances in printing and paper technology making it possible to generate enormous press runs; and,
- thirdly, a previously unsuspected mass audience, newly literate because of the educational reforms of the 1870s and 1880s.
Print abruptly ceased to be only an elite medium and became also a popular medium. (The Daily Mail was priced at a halfpenny when all other papers were priced at a penny – and price matters in all markets as we are showing in London today.) Eventually, this happened all over the world. But it was because of Northcliffe’s very real genius for popular journalism that it happened in Britain so dramatically and decisively.
And part of Northcliffe’s genius, if I may say so, is that he had an eye for talent. That was how he later came to know my father, a young Australian journalist who arrived in London in 1915 with a graphic story about the disaster at Gallipoli, where Northcliffe’s own nephew had just been killed.
When my father came back home to Melbourne to be the editor of The Herald, he remembered Northcliffe’s lessons and kept in touch with him. And when Northcliffe came out to Australia in 1921, he visited my father here in Melbourne. At my father’s request, on the ship back home, Northcliffe read back issues of the Melbourne Herald and dictated comments on them, which I still have.
In vital ways, his comments are still intensely relevant to the media business today. For example, Northcliffe stressed the importance of news, and lots of it. That’s something we still emphasise in all our newspapers, at a time when many newspapers are giving up the struggle with television and turning themselves into daily lifestyle magazines.
Even our much-maligned London tabloid, The Sun, which is a ferocious competition with other popular papers, always has more, longer and better written stories than any television newscast. And it gets those stories read by about a quarter of the adult population of Britain.
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(Always a paper to deliver the truth) |
Northcliffe also vehemently denounced what he saw as the tendency of advertisements to dominate The Herald’s pages. This was a battle he fought in his own papers throughout his career. I mention it just to show that the free market works in subtle and self-correcting ways. The capitalist press is not a slave to advertisers: in the interest of its own survival it can only have a limited and uneasy alliance with them.
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(The Emeritus Chairman's publications never indulge in vulgar advertising displays) |
Now, I don’t want to make too much of the Murdoch family’s connection to Northcliffe, because apart from anything else, he did eventually go mad! But it is an interesting thought that the whole brilliant episode of the rise of the mass media is in the careers of so few men. And I think there’s no doubt that the type of mass popular journalism that Northcliffe brought to newspapers has now extended to television. That’s why News Corporation has got involved with Sky Television in Britain, Fox Television in America, Star Television in Asia, and Vox in Germany. It’s why we have 24 hour TV news in Britain.
I hope you won’t get me wrong. I have always said that personally I prefer newspapers to television. And I believe newspapers, and mass circulation newspapers, will be here, and very profitably here, for a long time to come. But the growth is going to be in television and other, even more exotic, electronic media. When you think about it, those years around the turn of the century, when Northcliffe was rising to the peak of his career and my father was just beginning his, were an amazing period. At that time also, technological change – the telephone, the motor car, the aeroplane – was so radical as to amount to a difference in kind, rather than degree, in the way that people have lived for centuries, indeed millennia. Now again today, equally profound forces are at work in the world. Right now, anyone anywhere in the world is able to got to a computer screen, exchange messages with anyone anywhere else in the world, get information, news and entertainment, work and play, at minimal cost – and at no marginal cost for distance. What this means, at the very least, is that whole new audiences are markets are being created. In the near future there are going to be many more magic moments when the new Northcliffes suddenly find that they have struck new goldmines.
I don’t know, no one knows, precisely what these new goldmines will be. But we are all doing our best to find out!
I do know, however, that this new era of technological change has revolutionised Australia’s position in the world.
Australia’s first two centuries, as I said three years ago when I spoke at the University of Melbourne, were the centuries of rent-capturing – capturing what economists call ‘rents’, profits from primary products sold into the world market. The returns from these products had to be exceptional, because they had to overcome what Geoffrey Blainey has called, in a well-known phrase, the tyranny of distance. In fact, as you are all aware, it was the Australian gold rush in the middle of the nineteenth century that provided the first boost to this great city of Melbourne. (I’m talking about old-fashioned boring real gold here! – not the infinite gold of the mind and the market.)
But the next century will be one in which the tyranny of distance has been abolished. For Australia, it will be the century of networking. Australia will profit from its strategic location, as a highly-educated, English- speaking society that because of technological change is now as integrated in the world economy as any place on earth.
Melbourne-Manchester-Manhattan-the middle of the McDonnell ranges – it’s all going to be the same. New Northcliffes will strike unsuspected global goldmines while physically located right here in Australia, perhaps publishing software or some specialised information product for sale on an international electronic network. They won’t ever have to got to London and be called rude names for saving the British newspaper industry! Assuming, that is, that government policy allows Australian entrepreneurs easy access to imported computer hardware – on which to develop what will really count: the software. And assuming that it does not tax them to the point where they decide to take their goldmines, all nice and portable in a laptop’s hard disk, and go off elsewhere.
All this sounds very optimistic – and it is. We have it within our power to make Australia an economic powerhouse in one of the brightest eras of human history.
So why are we so surprised? I think one of the reasons is a congerie* of attitudes epitomised by George Orwell’s great futuristic novel Nineteen Eighty-Four. Briefly, Orwell thought that technology would lead to tyranny. He thought that it would enormously enhance the power of the centralised totalitarian state, which would literally be able to keep an eye on its citizens through two-way television screens installed in their homes. He summed it up with one of a number of Orwellian phrases that have entered the language: ‘Big Brother is watching you.’
I was at Geelong Grammar in 1949 when Nineteen Eighty-Four was published. I have to admit that I don’t remember anything about the stir it caused – although I can remember the winner of the Melbourne Cup that year! It was Foxzami.
But I did arrive in England in 1950 to go to Oxford. And I vividly recall the rationing, the queues, the shortages, the shabbiness, the general weariness, that made only too credible the soul-destroying privations of the future total-welfare state that Orwell envisaged.
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(The young chairman emeritus, avowed socialist, supporter of trade unions, and lover of Lenin, with a bust of his hero in his Oxford accommodation) |
Now, George Orwell was a writer of genius and Nineteen Eighty-Four is a work of inspiration. In recent years, for example, it has become a great favourite in the former Iron Curtain countries because of its uncanny insight into the psychology of corrupt totalitarian bureaucracies. Orwell, of course, had no direct experience of this. But he was apparently able to figure it out intuitively – based on his wartime stint working for the BBC.
I don’t know whether it would have been different if he had been working for the ABC!
Nevertheless, the plain fact is that Orwell was wrong in his central prediction. Technology has not led to centralisation and tyranny – rather the reverse.
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(George Orwell, an actual socialist) |
I’ve been musing about this recently because I’ve been reading the galleys of a very impressive new book on exactly this theme, by Peter Huber, an American lawyer and scientist – and, indeed, a fellow of another think-tank in the same constellation as the CIS: the Manhattan Institute in New York. It’s an essay on why Orwell went wrong, combined with a rewriting of Nineteen Eighty-Four to illustrate what might actually have happened.
Huber rewrote Nineteen Eighty-Four by a particularly ingenious method: he scanned Orwell’s collected works into his computer, and then picked up and chose and reorganised pieces of Orwell’s prose. I think this is the closest that anyone has yet come to fulfilling the long-standing dream of all editors: to be able to put newspapers together without having to deal with journalists!
Huber’s book is being published by Simon & Schuster in New York – regrettably one of our competitors. It’s called Orwell’s Revenge: The 1984 Palimpsest.
What is a ‘palimpsest’? I had to look it up too. It’s a writing surface, like a tablet or parchment, that can be scraped clean and written on again. Orwell used the word to describe history in his nightmare world – constantly rewritten, with newspaper files and reference books retrospectively altered, to suit the ruling party’s current line. And, indeed, this was exactly what Stalin was beginning to do in the Soviet Union. We’ve even seen an odd attempt or two around here recently!
The destruction of the collective memory – something Alexander Solzhenitsyn defined in his 1970 Nobel Prize speech as the essence of totalitarianism – was a spectre that haunted Orwell. He had written with horrified fascination, in a 1944 essay, of the Caliph Omar’s destruction of the libraries of Alexandria. Burning manuscripts kept the public baths warm for eighteen days. Great numbers of tragedies by Euripides and others were lost forever, including great works by Aristotle, Plato and others.
Right away, we can see the difference that technology has made. The Xerox machine – which of course did not exist even in Orwell’s day – has made keeping track of original documents, so they can be rounded up and destroyed, an impossible dream. Xerox machines have also made the copying of subversive or sensitive documents for publication or leaking quite unstoppable. Which is why Xerox machines in the Soviet Union were kept under lock and key as late as the mid-1980s.
But we should also note the next step: the collective memory will hardly have a physical existence at all. It will escape into cyberspace, transmitted back and forth by modem and even satellite between scores of millions of computer network users. Solzhenitsyn took the title of his Nobel Prize speech from the Russian proverb: ‘One word of truth outweighs the whole world.’ In the future, we will have many words of truth, ever-present in the ether.
Why was Orwell wrong? Peter Huber argues that it was for two basic reasons. Firstly, Orwell was wrong to suppose, in the words of one of the slogans of his totalitarian party in Nineteen Eighty-Four that ‘ignorance is strength’. In a system based on science, ignorance is not strength: it is weakness.
In Huber’s scenario, a situation arises in which the party is simply unable to maintain its two-way telescreens because of a shortage of technical personnel. The screens are co-opted by enterprising ‘proles’ – the proles you will remember, are the underclass outside the party circle – who exploit the screens’ interactivity to communicate with each other. Far from being a centralising device, the telescreen network decentralises and diffuses power.
What makes Huber’s scenario the more convincing is that this sort of scientific and technological atrophy was exactly what destroyed the Soviet Union. Without freedom of inquiry, scientific inquiry just could not proceed.
By the mid-1980s, there were extraordinary reports of Western scientists going to the Soviet Union on some joint venture, finding that two separate groups of Soviet scientists were working on the same problem in ignorance of each other, sometimes even in the same city, and putting them in touch with each other. Science was being strangled by the security needs of the Soviet state. When President Reagan launched his Star Wars program, it was the last straw. The Soviets knew they could never match it and their will broke. The second reason that Orwell was wrong, Huber argues, is in effect contained in another of his totalitarian party’s slogans: ‘Freedom is slavery.’ But freedom is not slavery. Specifically, free markets are not monopolies.
Orwell believed that free markets must lead to private monopoly and hence to the driving-down of living standards. He believed this because, like a lot of intellectuals who are accustomed to thinking about literature and politics, he had no real concept of the price mechanism. He thought that profits must be extorted by power.
For example, he assumed that capitalists would always deliberately suppress innovation to keep profits high. He believed that this had actually happened to a type of ‘flexible glass’ that had been mentioned in antiquity by the Roman writer Petronius, but was now irretrievably lost.
In fact, however, capitalists are slaveringly eager to innovate, to cut into each other’s market share. Perhaps when Orwell was growing up, it was possible to argue hypothetically that the Soviet Union would innovate faster. But as it turned out, it was precisely at innovation that capitalism beat communism most decisively. Because capitalists are always trying to stab each other in the back, free markets do not lead to monopolies. Essentially, monopolies can only exist when governments support them. For example, the media business in this country is relatively concentrated at least in part because of Canberra’s restrictions against foreign ownership (and monopolies are quite often mirages – people just have not thought carefully enough about what constitutes the relevant market. For example, both advertisers and audiences in fact do have alternatives to newspapers – radio, television, eventually quite possibly the telephone system – throughout Australia.) The fact that Orwell did not understand markets leads to one of the most pointed, and indeed poignant, differences between Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Peter Huber’s rewriting of it in Orwell’s Revenge. In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the street markets run by the proles and technically illegal, are drab and depressing places. But in Huber’s scenario, they are lively, bustling – indeed, they provide better goods and services than the party’s official outlet. You get the impression that the proles have implicitly declared independence from the party state. It withers away, although not at all in the way Marx expected.
Again, we know from the collapse of communism that this is entirely realistic. In the Soviet bloc, the black market rapidly became the only effective way to get anything of value, and grey markets in the Soviet Union itself, towards the end. Some vast proportion of all produce sold came from the minute fraction of agricultural land that peasants were allowed to cultivate themselves.
As Huber points out in his book, it is the hijacked telescreen system itself that has really unleashed the elemental power of these private street markets. The proles are able to use it to trade goods. In economists’ jargon, it makes possible the more efficient allocation of resources.
The poignant aspect of this is that Orwell did have some dim inkling of what street markets could mean. In one of his earlier novels, he provided a lyrical description of one (which Peter Huber promptly appropriated for his rewritten book). And in that novel, Orwell had his hero reflect on the scene as follows: ‘whenever you see a street market you know that there is hope for England yet.’
That’s a moment of true artistic insight – albeit unsupported (as sometimes happens with artists) with any rational or scientific follow-through. The freedom, the unforced exchange of the street market, its pragmatic acceptance of human self-interest and its transformation of self-interest into something mutually, peacefully beneficial – it does mean there is hope for England ... and, indeed, for all of us in the Western world. It’s not an accident that Napoleon called England a nation of shopkeepers. What Orwell and Napoleon together saw, however confused or critical they felt about it, was the extent to which markets, of what I referred to earlier and more grandly as the principles of classical liberalism, are fundamental to our civilisation.
And this is the broader conclusion to which I said I would return.
I said earlier that we suffer from a congerie* of attitudes that cause us to be surprised by the idea that technology might be beneficial – and perhaps by the underlying principle that free markets are fundamental to our civilisation.
A part of that congerie is the eclipse into which the idea of markets passed for a considerable part of this century. For a variety of reasons, it was assumed by Left and Right alike, and indeed it is still too often assumed, that markets do not work properly and that governments have to step in. I’m not talking about communism here, or even socialism, but about all pervasive regulation and control.
And that assumption still underlies many of our Australian institutions – notably our labour market, the bone in Australia’s throat, something which I know the Centre for Independent Studies has examined recently – with appropriate distaste.
When you rethink this assumption about markets, you see the world through different eyes. It wasn’t just the Soviets who thought that street markets were the work of speculators and assorted anti-social elements. The entire establishment of Western development economists viewed them as trivial at best, unproductive middlemen at worst.
Well, at News Corporation we are enlightened. For example, in India we have discovered that tens of thousands of pirates have invested in reception dishes and are selling Star** programming to a few hundred, sometimes just a few score, households in their immediate neighbourhood.
Some cynics have said this will be fatal for our Asian television company, Star**. We disagree. Indeed, we look forward to a long partnership with these splendid entrepreneurs. They are pioneering the market – a market that Orwell himself, who worked in the BBC’s Indian service, said was fatally flawed because it did not yet embrace the masses.
The case of India, by the way, illustrates another important point: although technology does not lead to tyranny, neither need it lead to chaos. The new markets it creates don’t just make Northcliffes rich: they may also solve age-old political problems.
Indian leaders have long been desperately worried about disunity in their vast, teeming, multilingual country. This is something we can hardly understand in the English-speaking world, where we achieved total political stability so long ago. To try to achieve it in India, there has been an effort ever since independence to promote Hindi as the lingua franca, what in India is called the ‘link language’. But the effort has failed. Until now. With the coming of the electronic mass media, Hindi is finally spreading, because everyone wants to watch the best television programming. And I suspect we will see this story repeated throughout the developing world, not least in China with Mandarin.
In which case it will not only be prosperity that we will catch in our networks, but also order – and, ultimately, peace.
And peace, remember, has been in short supply in the twentieth century. The optimism of Northcliffe’s 1890s gave way to the catastrophe of the First World War. And the First World War looms over this entire century, really only ending with the fall of the Soviet Union. In its dark shadow we dreamed the Orwellian totalitarian nightmare.
In Nineteen Eighty-Four George Orwell was a pessimist. But he was also an optimist – as I’ve said, you can’t expect artists to be consistent. Earlier, he had written a poem about a young volunteer militia he saw in the Spanish civil war:
No power can disinherit
No bomb that ever burst
Shatters the crystal spirit
Ladies and gentlemen, in this century of bursting bombs, I like to think that we are doing our part, however humble and mundane to free that crystal spirit.***
* congerie (from the Latin, pretentious, usually "congeries") (used with a singular or plural verb) a collection of items or parts in one mass; assemblage; aggregation, heap:
From the airplane the town resembled a congeries of tiny boxes.
First recorded in 1610–20; from Latin: “a heap, pile, collection,” equivalent to conger- (stem of congerere “to collect, heap up,” equivalent to con-, combining form + gerere “to bear, carry”) + -iēs abstract noun suffix; con-
My own are his pansy collages, tightly packed, edge-to-edge congeries of overlapping floral faces that give off a bright radiance as well as well as a sense of menacing, staring eyes.
From New York Times
A novel loosely holding together distinct histories and temporalities effectively dramatizes a society that is a congeries of ancient and new, old lore and tradition bumping up against thoroughly modern ambitions and expertise.
From The New Yorker
Does that justify corporate managers spending ever-shifting congeries of their shareholders’ money, without consulting them, on political campaign contributions and ads to sway citizens’ decisions about which officials should regulate the corporations themselves?
From Salon
The sixties may be just another decade, but The Sixties are something more – a mood, a state of mind, a way of life, a congeries of sounds and images.
From The Guardian
The first, titled “The Book,” describes a strange bookshop, a “congeries/ Of crumbling elder lore.”
From Washington Post
** aka Disney Star
*** Peter Brock famously used the crystal spirit in his Energy Polarizer box ...
In 1986, Australian motor racing driver Peter Brock unveiled a device called an Energy Polarizer, which consisted of a black box containing a sliver of crystal surrounded by magnets, with promises it could improve the fuel performance and handling of any car which uses it. Despite no scientific testing of it, Brock claimed it worked through "aligning the molecules" of the car, and began fitting the device to all (General Motors) Holden Dealer Team specials. Other benefits claimed by the device included absorbing road shocks more completely and quietly, to reduce overall vehicle noises — both inside and outside — to achieve greater efficiency of the power train and steering systems, improving the engine and suspension performance and to create a more pleasant environment for the driver and passenger.
The same stunning benefits of the unleashed crystal spirit can be seen in News Corp to this very day.