Four Legged Good, Two Legged Bad

What Animal Farm Taught Me About Humans

When I first read Animal Farm and the animals started chanting, "Four legged good, two legged bad," I felt every bit of that song. At first it sounds funny, almost childish. But somewhere deep down, I understood what Orwell was trying to convey.

Orwell was trying to explain the Russian Revolution and how power slowly unfolds the beast inside people. But the older I get, the more I realise this book was never really about animals. It was about us.

Every character in the book has issues. Boxer works blindly and endlessly without questioning anything - and honestly, I relate to that a little too much. Not because it's my motto in life, but because that's what most of us are forced to become in order to survive financially. We keep going, we keep working, we keep telling ourselves things will eventually make sense. Then there's Napoleon - power hungry, manipulative, controlling - and Squealer, who lies constantly and reshapes the truth depending on what benefits him. The scary part is that none of these characters feel fictional anymore. You start recognising them everywhere: at work, in relationships, in friends, in families, sometimes even in yourself.

There's one thing that stayed with me from this classic tale: with all the life experiences I've had as a little-over-30 human, I've slowly started believing that there's no completely good deed without some amount of selfishness attached to it. I used to think that sounded cynical. I didn't want it to be true. But life has a strange way of peeling people apart. And honestly, if life teaches me otherwise someday, I'll happily give up this entire theory.

For the longest time, I was a people pleaser. I would think on behalf of others before thinking about myself. I genuinely believed there were people out there who had life figured out - people who were kinder, wiser, less selfish. But over the years, I've realised humans perceive the world based on their own wounds, fears, experiences, and emotional capacity. Everyone wants the best for themselves. Sometimes softly, sometimes selfishly, sometimes without even realising it. And the funny thing is - I'm selfish too. I think the real competition in life is not about becoming completely selfless. I don't even know if that's possible anymore. Maybe it's about becoming the least harmful version of ourselves. About trying to get through life while doing as little damage to others as possible.

Oddly enough, my dogs explained this better than humans ever did. My 7-year-old Mojo absolutely hates my 1-year-old Shiro. They fight for attention like dramatic siblings. But when Shiro fell sick recently, Mojo quietly gave him his favourite toy to play with. Okay, maybe "gave" is too strong a word - he definitely expected it back later. That tiny moment stayed with me, because I genuinely don't know if humans do kindness that instinctively anymore. I've thought twice before giving things with my own sister.

And somehow Orwell's chant started echoing in my head again: "Four legged good, two legged bad."

Maybe animals are simpler. Maybe they love cleaner. Maybe humans complicate everything with ego, pride, insecurity, competition, and expectations. Sometimes I genuinely wish an Animal Farm-like situation happened in real life - not the dictatorship part obviously - but enough for humans to finally understand animals better and treat them the way they deserve to be treated.

And then there's Orwell's other devastating line: "All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others." That one deserves a completely separate brain dump someday.

📚 Recommended Read

If this post made you want to revisit the classic, here's the edition I'd recommend:

🐷 Animal Farm by George Orwell — 75th Anniversary Edition (Signet Classics)

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