Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again: but already it was impossible to say which was which.
November 1943 - February 1944
George Orwell
The creatures retreated to the barn, shock etched on their faces as they struggled to take in the scene they had just witnessed. Clover led the frightened, younger animals to their sleeping quarters and tried to settle them down.
"I know you sense something is wrong," she told them, "but this is up to the adults to work out. We will do whatever it takes to protect you."
On hearing the word 'protect,' a number of the parent animals snapped out of their numbness and moved over to their children. One mother sheep rested her head against her lamb and began to sing an unfashioned tune in the lamb's ear. Almost in unison other parents moved forward and began to do the same. The barn filled with soft, soothing voices as the young animals drifted off to sleep.
At the other end of the barn the animals remained in stunned silence.
Eventually a voice whispered, "When did the pigs turn into man?"
No-one replied, lost in absorbing the enormity of the situation.
After five minutes Benjamin spoke. "I think," he said solemnly, "it is just in our nature. It is who we all truly are on the inside and we cannot change that."
Clover had left the sleeping young and moved over to the older animals, lying down among them.
"Snowball knew it was happening but he had no chance against them. If we are honest with ourselves we all knew something was wrong but said nothing," she said.
"But what do we do now?" asked Marie, a mother duck whose eggs had recently hatched. "I have children to look after. How can I protect them?"
Bessy, a nervous sheep, who always trembled when addressed by the pigs, stood up.
"I … can't leave this farm," she stammered. "If I escape with my lambs they will be eaten by foxes or taken by humans."
Other animals murmured in agreement and a chant broke out.
"There's nothing we can do, nothing we can do, nothing we can do."
This rang around and around the barn until eventually Benjamin stomped his foot.
"Calm down!" he roared. "This din will solve nothing!"
The chant spluttered to a stop momentarily. But one bleat slipped from a sheep's mouth and immediately the chant broke out again, growing louder and louder until eventually Benjamin could stand no more. He walked outside and slept in the cold instead.
None of the animals slept well that night. The chattering and chanting continued through the night with no decisions made except for the common consensus among the animals that there was nothing they could do.
Early the next morning, before the pigs awoke, Clover addressed the animals.
"It appears," she said, "that nothing can be done. We know what their intentions are now - but if we tell them that we know they will likely kill us. We must remain silent and not let them know what we have seen."
There were objections to this by a couple of the young horses and goats but other animals quickly hushed them.
"Think of the children!" the mother ducks chanted.
"How can we protect them?" bleated the sheep.
And so the farm remained in status quo over the next bitter winter. The animals continued with their work and the pigs continued to live in the house as though they were humans.
Squealer, shrewd as ever, sensed something was different on the few occasions he ventured out to supervise the work. The animal workers struggled to look him in the eye and, on the rare occasions they did, their eyes were either distant and dull or full of venom and fury. Squealer called a meeting with the other pigs to discuss their peculiar attitudes. He was concerned there may be another rebellion, but Napoleon assured him that their whips and dogs ensured every animal could be controlled.
"The animals of this farm are stupid," Napoleon declared in closing the meeting. "And it will never be any different."
The animal's hearts weren't in their work. Production and morale were at an all-time low and after a few months Napoleon started asking questions to Squealer. He pulled Squealer aside to discuss the farm's profit and loss statements. He was angry that egg production was down by a third, the fields were looking unkempt and that Pilkington was starting to doubt their ability to keep up.
It could no longer be denied that the hay and oat crops were also down for the year. It was found that after the majority of the crop promised to Pilkington was sold that there wouldn't be enough feed for the remaining animals.
The cows, it was decided by the pigs, were the largest eaters and could no longer be sustained. After much haggling and the signing of a new agreement, the pigs struck a deal with Pilkington whereby he would take the cows to his farm and then sell the milk back to the pigs at a greatly reduced rate. The pigs smugly felt they were getting the better deal as they were promised ample milk supplies and no longer needed to waste feed on the cows.
The cows were told they were going to a new farm filled with lush green pasture for them to eat. Squealer convinced them with great enthusiasm that it was in their interests to go as there was no longer any food left for them at Animal Farm due to their own laziness.
And so they went, hopeful of a better life.
For the remaining animals, life continued much as usual. Every now and again the goats would bring up the notion of going on strike. The young horses would enthusiastically discuss stomping on Napoleon and Squealer's heads. But when it came down to it, no-one could bring themselves to volunteer for the job. Every conversation ended the same way, with a duck crying, "Think of the children!"
