In 1984, Winston’s greatest mistake wasn’t rebellion — it was confession. He ignored one of the timeless laws of power: always say less than necessary. In a world of total surveillance, Winston’s need to be understood became his undoing. Today, the same dynamic plays out through screens instead of telescreens. People overshare their thoughts, emotions, and loyalties online, feeding algorithms that learn how to push their buttons. Every post, every reaction becomes data — not for connection, but for control. O’Brien didn’t need to break Winston’s body to read his mind; Winston gave him the map through his words. Likewise, we hand over our psychological blueprints every time we express outrage, fear, or desire in public view. Silence — or at least strategic restraint — is no longer just wisdom. It’s protection. In a digital age that thrives on exposure, power belongs to those who know when not to speak.