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On Sundays there was no work. Breakfast was an hour later than usual, and after breakfast there was a ceremony which was observed every week without fail. First came the hoisting of the flag. Snowball had found in the harness-room an old green tablecloth of Mrs. Jones's and had painted on it a hoof and a horn in white. This was run up the flagstaff in the farmhouse garden every Sunday morning...After the hoisting of the flag all the animals trooped into the big barn for a general assembly which was known as the Meeting. Here the work of the coming week was planned out and resolutions were put forward and debated. (3.5)
Oh, fun! We love ceremonies. The pigs get one thing right: people like having regular rituals to bind them together, whether we're talking religious celebrations, club meetings, baseball games, or pep rallies. (Okay, fine, we just like getting out of class early for that last one.)
Mollie refused to learn any but the six letters which spelt her own name. She would form these very neatly out of pieces of twig, and would then decorate them with a flower or two and walk round them admiring them. (3.8)
We know we're dumping on Mollie a little bit, but don't blame us: blame Orwell. Mollie basically symbolizes every foolish, vain bourgeoisie idiot who's more concerned with how the Revolution is going to help him than how he can help the Revolution.
When they had once got it by heart, the sheep developed a great liking for this maxim, and often as they lay in the field they would all start bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad! Four legs good, two legs bad!" and keep it up for hours on end, never growing tired of it. (3.11)
It sure is nice when your propaganda machine is so dumb that it basically runs itself. Who needs reasons or explanations when your sheeple are happy to lie around bleating the latest soundbite?