Never have any dealings with human beings

The rule that animals should never have any dealings with human beings was among the earliest and most cherished resolutions passed at the triumphant Meeting immediately after the expulsion of Mr. Jones. It was part of a cluster of prohibitions—never to engage in trade, never to make use of money—that seemed to the animals to be as fundamental as the Seven Commandments themselves. This rule represented the very essence of the Rebellion: a complete severance from the human world that had enslaved them, a guarantee that the new society would remain pure and self-sufficient. Yet this foundational principle would be systematically undermined, reinterpreted, and finally discarded as the pigs consolidated their power, marking the most decisive betrayal of the Revolution's original promise.

Origins and Early Significance

The rule against dealings with human beings was not one of the original Seven Commandments inscribed on the barn wall, but it was passed as a resolution at the first Meeting after Jones's expulsion, and the animals remembered it with absolute certainty. It was intimately connected to Old Major's teaching that "Man is the only real enemy" and that all human habits—money, trade, alcohol, clothes, sleeping in beds—were evil and must never be adopted. In the early, euphoric days of the Rebellion, the animals destroyed every trace of human rule: they flung the bits, nose-rings, dog-chains, and cruel knives down the well, burned the whips, reins, halters, and blinkers, and even Snowball threw the decorative ribbons onto the fire, declaring that "ribbons should be considered as clothes, which are the mark of a human being." Boxer, in a gesture of complete commitment, fetched his small straw hat and flung it onto the fire as well. The farmhouse itself was preserved as a museum, with a unanimous resolution that no animal must ever live there. The rule against human contact was not merely a practical measure; it was a sacred boundary that defined the new order.

The First Breach: Trade with the Outside World

The first crack in this principle appeared during the desperate winter after the windmill's destruction. Napoleon announced that the farm would engage in trade with neighbouring farms—not for any commercial purpose, he insisted, but simply to obtain urgently needed materials like paraffin oil, nails, string, dog biscuits, and iron for the horses' shoes. The needs of the windmill, he said, must override everything else. He had already made arrangements to sell a stack of hay and part of the wheat crop, and later, if more money were needed, it would have to come from the sale of eggs. The animals were conscious of a vague uneasiness; they remembered passing resolutions against trade and money, or at least they thought they remembered it. The four young pigs who had protested when Napoleon abolished the Sunday Meetings raised their voices timidly, but were silenced by the dogs' growling, and the sheep's bleating of "Four legs good, two legs bad" smoothed over the awkwardness. Squealer was then sent to set the animals' minds at rest, assuring them that the resolution against engaging in trade and using money had never been passed—it was pure imagination, probably traceable to lies circulated by Snowball. When asked if they had any record of such a resolution, the animals had to admit that nothing of the kind existed in writing, and they were satisfied that they had been mistaken. A Mr. Whymper, a solicitor from Willingdon, was appointed as intermediary, visiting every Monday morning to receive his instructions. The animals watched his coming and going with dread, but the sight of Napoleon on all fours delivering orders to Whymper, who stood on two legs, roused their pride and partly reconciled them to the new arrangement.

The Erosion of the Boundary: Pigs in the Farmhouse

Soon after, the pigs moved into the farmhouse itself, taking up residence in the very building that had been declared a museum where no animal must ever live. Again the animals seemed to remember a resolution against this, and again Squealer convinced them otherwise. It was absolutely necessary, he said, that the pigs—the brains of the farm—should have a quiet place to work, and it was more suited to the dignity of the Leader to live in a house than in a mere sty. When Clover, troubled by the memory of a definite ruling against beds, fetched Muriel to read the Fourth Commandment, she found it now read: "No animal shall sleep in a bed with sheets." Squealer explained that the rule was against sheets, a human invention, and that the pigs had removed the sheets and slept between blankets. The animals accepted this, and when it was announced that the pigs would get up an hour later in the mornings, no complaint was made. The boundary between animal and human was being redrawn, one rationalization at a time.

The Final Abandonment: Human Farmers as Equals

The complete abandonment of the rule against dealings with human beings was dramatically displayed in the final chapter. A deputation of neighbouring farmers, including Mr. Pilkington of Foxwood, was invited to tour the farm. They expressed great admiration for everything they saw, especially the windmill, and the animals worked diligently in the turnip field, not knowing whether to be more frightened of the pigs or of the human visitors. That evening, the animals crept to the farmhouse window and saw the pigs and farmers sitting together around the long table, drinking beer and playing cards. Mr. Pilkington proposed a toast: "To the prosperity of Animal Farm!" Napoleon, in his response, announced that the name "Animal Farm" had been abolished; henceforward the farm was to be known as "The Manor Farm"—its correct and original name. He also declared that the custom of addressing one another as "Comrade" was to be suppressed, and the green flag would now be a plain green, with the hoof and horn removed. The pigs now wore clothes, carried whips, and walked on their hind legs. As the animals outside gazed at the scene, they saw that the faces of the pigs had become indistinguishable from those of the men. The rule against dealings with human beings had not merely been broken; it had been inverted, and the pigs had become the very thing they had once rebelled against.