Expulsion of Snowball
The Expulsion of Snowball marks the decisive rupture in Animal Farm's political order, the moment when the revolutionary ideal of collective debate is violently replaced by one‑pig rule. Until this point, Snowball and Napoleon had been the two most active leaders among the pigs, but their rivalry had grown increasingly bitter, especially over the question of building a windmill. Snowball, the more inventive and eloquent of the two, had drawn up elaborate plans for a windmill that would generate electricity, light the stalls, and run machinery, promising that it would reduce the animals' working week to three days. Napoleon, who had declared himself against the windmill from the start, offered no alternative scheme of his own but quietly bided his time. The dispute split the farm into two factions, with Snowball often winning the majority at the Sunday Meetings through his brilliant speeches, while Napoleon canvassed support between meetings, particularly among the sheep, who had developed a habit of bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" at crucial moments in Snowball's speeches.
The Confrontation and the Dogs
On the Sunday when the windmill question was to be put to a vote, Snowball delivered a passionate appeal that seemed to carry the meeting. Napoleon, who had spoken for barely thirty seconds and appeared indifferent, then stood up and uttered a high‑pitched whimper of a kind no one had ever heard from him before. At that signal, nine enormous dogs wearing brass‑studded collars came bounding into the barn. They were the puppies Napoleon had taken from their mothers soon after the hay harvest and reared in seclusion, and they were now huge, fierce‑looking animals that kept close to him and wagged their tails to him as they had once done to Mr. Jones. The dogs dashed straight for Snowball, who only just escaped their snapping jaws by springing from his place and racing out of the door. The entire farm watched the chase across the long pasture: Snowball ran as only a pig can run, but the dogs were close on his heels. He slipped, seemed certain to be caught, then recovered and put on an extra spurt, slipping through a hole in the hedge with only inches to spare. He was seen no more.
The Abolition of the Sunday Meetings
Silent and terrified, the animals crept back into the barn. Napoleon, with the dogs following him, mounted the raised platform where Old Major had once stood to deliver his speech. He announced that the Sunday‑morning Meetings would come to an end: they were unnecessary and wasted time. From now on, all questions relating to the working of the farm would be settled by a special committee of pigs, presided over by himself, meeting in private and communicating their decisions to the others. The animals would still assemble on Sunday mornings to salute the flag, sing 'Beasts of England', and receive their orders for the week, but there would be no more debates. Four young porkers in the front row uttered shrill squeals of disapproval and sprang to their feet, but the dogs sitting round Napoleon let out deep, menacing growls, and the pigs fell silent and sat down. Then the sheep burst into a tremendous bleating of "Four legs good, two legs bad!" that went on for nearly a quarter of an hour, putting an end to any chance of discussion.
The Consolidation of Power
Afterwards, Squealer was sent round the farm to explain the new arrangement. He argued that leadership was a deep and heavy responsibility, that Napoleon believed all animals were equal but that sometimes the animals might make the wrong decisions, and that if they had followed Snowball's "moonshine of windmills" they would have been following a criminal. When someone reminded him that Snowball had fought bravely at the Battle of the Cowshed, Squealer replied that bravery was not enough and that the time would come when Snowball's part in that battle would be seen as much exaggerated. The unanswerable argument, as always, was that without these measures Jones would come back. Boxer, who had had time to think things over, voiced the general feeling by saying, "If Comrade Napoleon says it, it must be right," and from then on he adopted the maxim "Napoleon is always right" in addition to his private motto "I will work harder." The expulsion thus accomplished not only the removal of a political rival but the silencing of all dissent, the centralisation of decision‑making, and the beginning of a cult of personality that would grow ever more elaborate in the years to come.
