Preparations were at full throttle for Hate Week.
This was the most important time of the year. For one week the population would be pushed to a frenzy of hatred.
The theme-song of Hate Week (the Hate Song) was being endlessly plugged on the telescreens. The proles constantly sang it as they did the love song Winston had heard while waiting for Julia that first time at the flat.
Hate Week took up everyone’s time, from stitching banners, painting posters, erecting flagstaffs on the roofs, etc.
A new poster appeared of a monstrous Eurasian soldier. From whatever angle you looked at the poster, the muzzle of the gun, magnified by the foreshortening, seemed to be pointed straight at you.
Everyone was worked to a frenzy of patriotism, while rocket bombs fell, killing larger numbers of people than usual.
To elevate Hate as the most important emotion, to celebrate it, directs all the frustrations of the society and lets some of the pressure escape.