At first glance, Animal Farm might look like a cute little story about pigs and chickens staging a protest for more hay and fewer chores—basically, barnyard socialism with a touch of drama. But behind the adorable facade is a razor-sharp allegory written by George Orwell, aimed directly at the heart of political corruption, manipulation, and the dangerous illusion of equality.
The brilliance—and horror—of Animal Farm is how closely it mirrors real-world systems of power. Whether Orwell was warning us or warming us up, the result is the same: a society taught to cheer for its own shackles.
The book may be about pigs and horses, but it’s really about people—how revolutions get hijacked, how language gets weaponized, and how power, once gained, almost never gives itself up. So, stick around. Because this ain’t just a review. It’s a reckoning.
🐾 Act I: How to Gain Power Without Really Saying You Want It
The story of Animal Farm kicks off with a feel-good overthrow: Farmer Jones, the lazy, liquor-loving landowner, gets the boot thanks to a barnyard uprising fueled by dreams of justice, equality, and—let’s be honest—better rations.
At first, it’s all hoof-bumps and hope. The animals write their own constitution—adorably called the Seven Commandments—and proudly crown it with:
“All animals are equal.”
Then they all settle into the rustic vibes of DIY democracy. Revolution never smelled so sweet—like hay, optimism, and just a hint of apple mash.
But power doesn’t march in waving a flag—it slithers in with a clipboard and a condescending smile. Enter the pigs, who oh-so-humbly claim they’re just so much smarter and therefore should do all the thinking. Napoleon—a quiet, cunning pig who slowly becomes a dictator—quickly begins stacking the deck.
And while his rival Snowball—an idealistic pig who genuinely believes in equality and progress—is out giving PowerPoints on windmills and collective progress, Napoleon is off-stage, quietly kidnapping puppies and raising them into a loyal canine hit squad.
Meanwhile, Squealer—equal parts pig and propaganda machine—is busy spinning lies so slick you’d think he moonlights as a press secretary. He assures the others that the pigs aren’t hoarding apples and milk for their own selfish desires—heavens no!—it’s all for the greater good. And just like that, “equality” becomes a slogan, leadership becomes a caste, and the revolution gets a rebrand.
🐕 Act II: Consolidating Power with Cute Dogs and Creepy Gaslighting
What began as a wholesome revolution for equality quickly mutates into a dystopian soap opera, complete with secret police, rewritten laws, and gaslighting so intense it could power the whole county fair for a week.. Napoleon, now fully in his villain era, raises a private K-9 squad in secret—adorable puppies turned into growling enforcers of his will.
Once they bulked up on blind loyalty and bootcamp-style obedience, he unleashes them on Snowball, chasing him off the farm in a betrayal so spicy it’d make a soap opera blush. With his rival gone and democracy buried somewhere under the mud, Napoleon crowns himself farm overlord and ghosts the town meetings like he just left every animal on read.
From that point forward, everything’s left to a ‘special pig committee’—which is just fancy talk for Napoleon makin’ all the calls while smilin’ at himself in the trough like he’s the belle of the barn. Meanwhile, Squealer goes full spin-doctor, rewriting reality with phrases like:
“Napoleon would never lie” and “Milk rations are self-care.”
Boxer, the noble workhorse, buys into it all—breaking his back for the cause until he literally works himself to death, convinced that loyalty will save him. Spoiler: it doesn’t. Even the sheep get reprogrammed into mindless slogan machines, trading critical thought for catchphrases. First, “Four legs good, two legs bad,” and later, “Four legs good, two legs better”—because when logic fails, just remix the mantra.
With Napoleon now worshipped as a porky messiah, the farm slides into full cult mode, running on fear, flattery, and carefully curated fake news.
🛏️ Act III: The Pillow is Always Softer on the Totalitarian Side
By the end of Animal Farm, the revolution has gone from power to parody. Bless it. The pigs—once the self-appointed champions of equality—are now strutting around on two legs, sipping wine with the very humans they once called enemies.
And he rest of the animals? They’re freezing, starving, and so mentally scrambled they can’t even remember what they were fighting for. The original slogan, “All animals are equal,” quietly disappears and is replaced with its final, gut-punch remix:
“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”
That, dear reader, is what happens when power stops pretending to care. It moves into the farmhouse, throws on some silk sheets, and edits the commandments like it’s running a dystopian Pinterest board. “No sleeping in beds”? Not a problem—just add a clause: “with sheets.” Boom. Problem solved.
The pigs hold self-congratulatory parades while the other animals work themselves into the ground (RIP Boxer), and anyone asking questions gets bleated down by the sheep, who now function as walking megaphones. Orwell doesn’t just show tyranny in action—he shows how it rewrites reality, one euphemism and slogan at a time, until truth is whatever the pigs say it is… and everyone else is too exhausted to argue.
Does any of this sound familiar?
🎩 Orwell: The Ultimate Insider-Outsider
Let’s talk Orwell. A man educated at Eton and seasoned by empire, Orwell had front-row seats to elite hypocrisy. He didn’t just write Animal Farm as a satire of Soviet Russia—he wrote it as a mirror for every system that promises equality and delivers hierarchy.
Whether it’s Stalin, a Silicon Valley CEO, or a charismatic influencer with a ring light and a God complex, the script is the same.
“The Party is not concerned with perpetuating its blood, but with perpetuating itself.”
A direct quote from George Orwell. Translation? Power doesn’t care who’s in charge—as long as it stays in charge.
🐽 If You Didn’t Get the Hint, Here It Is: Predictive Programming or Just Plain Predictable?
Is Animal Farm a warning? Without a doubt. But is it also a bit of social training, teaching us to spot tyranny only when it’s squealing in boots and wearing a monocle? Quite possibly.
Maybe Orwell tried to warn us—or maybe we just took notes. Either way, we ended up here: a world where buzzwords bury facts, cruelty hides behind the cozy, and revolutions are just makeovers for the same old tyranny.
So next time someone starts talking about a “new era” or “reimagining the system,” take a closer look. Ask yourself who’s rewriting the rules. And most importantly, count their legs—because if they’re walking on two and talking about equality… you might already be living in Animal Farm.
Want to know how to spot the Napoleons in your life before they trade your mattress for hay? Stay sharp, read Orwell, pray for discernment, and never trust a pig with a press secretary.
Anyway, time for this Byrd to fly. Bye Bye Now.