Squealer Quotes

Day and night we are watching over your welfare. It is for YOUR sake that we drink that milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we pigs failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Yes, Jones would come back! Surely, comrades," cried Squealer almost pleadingly

Oh freddled gruntbuggly, Thy micturitions are to me, As plurdled gabbleblotchits, On a lurgid bee, That mordiously hath blurted out, Its earted jurtles, Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming] Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles, Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts, And living glupules frart and slipulate, Like jowling meated liverslime, Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes, And hooptiously drangle me, With crinkly bindlewurdles, Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, See if I don't.

You know I'm no squealer, Harry.' 'You're a rummy. But no matter how rum dumb you get, if you ever talk about that, I promise you.' 'I'm a good man,' he said. 'You oughtn't to talk to me like that.' 'They can't make it fast enough to keep you a good man,' I told him. But I didn't worry about him any more because who was going to believe him?

Squealer conceals actual knowledge from the other animals by stuffing their heads full of false information – frivolous numbers and figures.

A few animals still felt faintly doubtful, but Squealer asked them shrewdly, 'Are you certain that this is not something that you have dreamed, comrades? Have you any record of such a resolution? Is it written down anywhere?' And since it was certainly true that nothing of the kind existed in writing, the animals were satisfied that they had been mistaken.

On Sunday mornings Squealer, holding down a long strip of paper with his trotter, would read out to them lists of figures proving that the production of every class of foodstuff had increased by 200 per cent, 300 per cent, or 500 per cent, as the case might be. The animals saw no reason to disbelieve him, especially as they could no longer remember very clearly what conditions had been like before the Rebellion. All the same, there were days when they felt that they would sooner have had less figures and more food.

Napoleon had commanded that once a week there should be held something called a Spontaneous Demonstration, the object of which was to celebrate the struggles and triumphs of Animal Farm. (...) The sheep were the greatest devotees of the Spontaneous Demonstration, and if anyone complained (as a few animals sometimes did, when no pigs or dogs were near) that they wasted time and meant a lot of standing about in the cold, the sheep were sure to silence him with a tremendous bleating of “Four legs good, two legs bad!” But by and large the animals enjoyed these celebrations. They found it comforting to be reminded that, after all, they were truly their own masters and that the work they did was for their own benefit. So that, what with the songs, the processions, Squealer’s lists of figures, the thunder of the gun, the crowing of the cockerel, and the fluttering of the flag, they were able to forget that their bellies were empty, at least part of the time.

De cualquier manera no tuvo dificultad en demostrar a los demás que, en realidad, no estaban faltos de comida, cualesquiera que fueran las apariencias. Ciertamente, fue necesario hacer un reajuste de las raciones (Squealer siempre mencionaba esto como «reajuste», nunca como «reducción»), pero comparado con los tiempos de Jones, la mejoría era enorme. Leyéndoles las cifras con voz chillona y rápida, les demostró detalladamente que contaban con más avena, más heno, y más nabos de los que tenían en los tiempos de Jones; que trabajaban menos horas, que el agua que bebían era de mejor calidad, que vivían más años, que una mayor proporción de criaturas sobrevivía a la infancia y que tenían más paja en sus pesebres y menos pulgas. Los animales creyeron todo lo que dijo. En verdad, Jones, y lo que él representaba, casi se había borrado de sus memorias. Ellos sabían que la vida era dura y áspera, que muchas veces tenían hambre y frío, y generalmente estaban trabajando cuando no dormían. Pero, sin duda alguna, peor había sido en los viejos tiempos. Sentíanse contentos de creerlo así. Además, en aquellos días fueron esclavos y ahora eran libres, y eso representaba mucha diferencia, como Squealer nunca se olvidaba de señalarles.

Napoleón no era ya mencionado simplemente como «Napoleón». Se le nombraba siempre en forma ceremoniosa como «nuestro Líder, camarada Napoleón», y a los cerdos les gustaba inventar para él, títulos como «Padre de todos los animales», «Terror de la humanidad», «Protector del rebaño de ovejas», «Amigo de los patitos» y otros por el estilo. En sus discursos, Squealer hablaba con lágrimas en los ojos, respecto a la sabiduría de Napoleón, la bondad de su corazón y el profundo amor que sentía por todos los animales en todas partes, y especialmente por las desdichadas bestias que aún vivían en la ignorancia y la esclavitud en otras granjas. Se había hecho habitual atribuir a Napoleón toda proeza afortunada y todo golpe de suerte. A menudo se oía que una gallina le decía a otra: «Bajo la dirección de nuestro Líder, camarada Napoleón, yo he puesto cinco huevos en seis días», o dos vacas, mientras saboreaban el agua del bebedero, solían exclamar: «Gracias a nuestro Líder, camarada Napoleón ¡qué rico sabor tiene esta agua!».

A veces les parecía que trabajaban más y no comían mejor que en la época de Jones. Los domingos por la mañana Squealer, sujetando un papel largo con una pata, les leía largas listas de cifras, demostrando que la producción de toda clase de víveres había aumentado en un 200 por ciento, 300 por ciento, o 500 por ciento, según el caso. Los animales no vieron motivo para no creerle, especialmente porque no podían recordar con claridad cómo eran las cosas antes de la Rebelión. Aun así, preferían a veces tener menos cifras y más comida.

Un ganso, que estaba enterado del complot, había confesado su culpa a Squealer y se suicidó inmediatamente ingiriendo unos frutos venenosos.

Besides, in those days they had been slaves and now they were free, and that made all the difference, as Squealer did not fail to point out.

Bravery is not enough,” said Squealer. “Loyalty and obedience are more important. And as to the Battle of the Cowshed, I believe the time will come when we shall find that Snowball’s part in it was much exaggerated. Discipline, comrades, iron discipline! That is the watchword for today. One false step, and our enemies would be upon us.

Comrades!” he cried. “You do not imagine, I hope, that we pigs are doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us actually dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been proved by Science, comrades) contain substances absolutely necessary to the well-being of a pig. We pigs are brainworkers. The whole management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night we are watching over your welfare. It is for YOUR sake that we drink that milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we pigs failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Yes, Jones would come back! Surely, comrades,” cried Squealer almost pleadingly, skipping from side to side and whisking his tail, “surely there is no one among you who wants to see Jones come back?” Now if there was one thing that the animals were completely certain of, it was that they did not want Jones back. When it was put to them in this light, they had no more to say. The importance of keeping the pigs in good health was all too obvious. So it was agreed without further argument that the milk and the windfall apples (and also the main crop of apples when they ripened) should be reserved for the pigs alone.

Squealer told them that the pigs  had to expend enormous labours every day upon mysterious things called ‘files’, ‘reports’, ‘minutes’ and ‘memoranda’. These were large sheets of paper which had to be closely covered with writing, and as soon as they were so covered they were burnt in the furnace. This was of the highest importance for the welfare of the farm, Squealer said. But still, neither pigs nor dogs produced any food by their own labour; and there were very many of them, and their appetites were always good. As for the others, their life, so far as they knew, was as it had always been. They were generally hungry, they slept on straw,

Comrades!” he cried. “You do not imagine, I hope, that we pigs are doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us actually dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been proved by Science, comrades) contain substances absolutely necessary to the well-being of a pig. We pigs are brainworkers. The whole management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night we are watching over your welfare. It is for YOUR sake that we drink that milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we pigs failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Yes, Jones would come back! Surely, comrades,” cried Squealer almost pleadingly, skipping from side to side and whisking his tail, “surely there is no one among you who wants to see Jones come back?

Meanwhile life was hard. The winter was as cold as the last one had been, and food was even shorter. Once again all rations were reduced, except those of the pigs and the dogs. A too rigid equality in rations, Squealer explained, would have been contrary to the principles of Animalism. In any case he had no difficulty in proving to the other animals that they were NOT in reality short of food, whatever the appearances might be. For the time being, certainly, it had been found necessary to make a readjustment of rations (Squealer always spoke of it as a “readjustment,” never as a “reduction”), but in comparison with the days of Jones, the improvement was enormous. Reading out the figures in a shrill, rapid voice, he proved to them in detail that they had more oats, more hay, more turnips than they had had in Jones’s day, that they worked shorter hours, that their drinking water was of better quality, that they lived longer, that a larger proportion of their young ones survived infancy, and that they had more straw in their stalls and suffered less from fleas. The animals believed every word of it.

It was the most affecting sight I have ever seen!” said Squealer, lifting his trotter and wiping away a tear. “I was at his bedside at the very last. And at the end, almost too weak to speak, he whispered in my ear that his sole sorrow was to have passed on before the windmill was finished. ‘Forward, comrades!’ he whispered. ‘Forward in the name of the Rebellion. Long live Animal Farm! Long live Comrade Napoleon! Napoleon is always right.’ Those were his very last words, comrades.

The animals were thoroughly frightened. It seemed to them as though Snowball were some kind of invisible influence, pervading the air about them and menacing them with all kinds of dangers. In the evening Squealer called them together, and with an alarmed expression on his face told them that he had some serious news to report.

Comrades!” cried Squealer, making little nervous skips, “a most terrible thing has been discovered. Snowball has sold himself to Frederick of Pinchfield Farm, who is even now plotting to attack us and take our farm away from us! Snowball is to act as his guide when the attack begins. But there is worse than that. We had thought that Snowball’s rebellion was caused simply by his vanity and ambition. But we were wrong, comrades. Do you know what the real reason was? Snowball was in league with Jones from the very start! He was Jones’s secret agent all the time. It has all been proved by documents which he left behind him and which we have only just discovered. To my mind this explains a great deal, comrades. Did we not see for ourselves how he attempted — fortunately without success — to get us defeated and destroyed at the Battle of the Cowshed?

Afterwards Squealer made a round of the farm and set the animals’ minds at rest. He assured them that the resolution against engaging in trade and using money had never been passed, or even suggested.

It was about this time that the pigs suddenly moved into the farmhouse and took up their residence there. Again the animals seemed to remember that a resolution against this had been passed in the early days, and again Squealer was able to convince them that this was not the case.

They had just finished singing it for the third time when Squealer, attended by two dogs, approached them with the air of having something important to say. He announced that, by a special decree of Comrade Napoleon, ‘Beasts of England’ had been abolished.

The best known among them was a small fat pig named Squealer, with very round cheeks, twinkling eyes, nimble movements, and a shrill voice. He was a brilliant talker, and when he was arguing some difficult point he had a way of skipping from side to side and whisking his tail which was somehow very persuasive. The others said of Squealer that he could turn black into white.

What is that gun firing for?' said Boxer. 'To celebrate our victory!' cried Squealer 'What victory?' Said Boxer.

The pigs—and Napoleon in particular—come to embody political power in three ways. First, they claim more and more of the farms’ resources for themselves. They start by stealing milk and apples, then eventually sell animal products to buy human luxuries like whisky. Second, the pigs become more violent, introducing the dog police force and ordering executions. Third, the pigs claim the power to determine what truth is. Squealer changes the Commandments of Animalism and the story of the Battle of the Cowshed. Meanwhile, the animals slowly come to realize that their lives are no better than they were before the Rebellion.

They had just finished singing it for the third time when Squealer, attended by two dogs, approached them with the air of having something important to say. He announced that, by a special decree of Comrade Napoleon, ‘Beasts of England’ had been abolished. From now onwards it was forbidden to sing it.

Afterwards Squealer made a round of the farm and set the animals’ minds at rest. He assured them that the resolution against engaging in trade and using money had never been passed, or even suggested. It was pure imagination, probably traceable in the beginning to lies circulated by Snowball. A few animals still felt faintly doubtful, but Squealer asked them shrewdly, “Are you certain that this is not something that you have dreamed, comrades? Have you any record of such a resolution? Is it written down anywhere?” And since it was certainly true that nothing of the kind existed in writing, the animals were satisfied that they had been mistaken.

Squealer’s lists of figures, the thunder of the gun, the crowing of the cockerel, and the fluttering of the flag, they were able to forget that their bellies were empty, at least part of the time.

Entonces, ¿hemos recuperado nuevamente lo que teníamos antes? -preguntó Boxer. - Esa es nuestra victoria -agregó Squealer.

Los domingos por la mañana Squealer, sujetando un papel largo con una pata, les leía largas listas de cifras, demostrando que la producción de toda clase de víveres había aumentado en un 200 por ciento, 300 por ciento, o 500 por ciento, según el caso. Los animales no vieron motivo para no creerle, especialmente porque no podían recordar con claridad cómo eran las cosas antes de la Rebelión. Aun así, preferían a veces tener menos cifras y más comida.

Los domingos por la mañana Squealer, sujetando un papel largo con una pata, les leía largas listas de cifras, demostrando que la producción de toda clase de víveres había aumentado en un 200 por ciento, 300 por ciento, o 500 por ciento, según el caso. Los animales no vieron motivo para no creerle, especialmente porque no podían recordar con claridad cómo eran las cosas antes de la Rebelión. Aun así, preferían a veces tener menos cifras y más comida.