Première partie :

Vous procéderez à la présentation, à l’étude et à la mise en relation des trois documents proposés (A,
B et C, non hiérachisés)

Seconde partie :

Cette partir de l’épreuve porte sur les documents A et C.
A partir de ces supports, vous définirez des objectifs communicationnels, culturels et linguistiques
pour une courte séquence dans une classe de lycée, en vous référant aux programmes. En vous
appuyant sur la spécificité de ces supports, vous dégagerez des stratégies pour développer les
compétences de communication des élèves.
In 1984, “Big Brother” rules over Oceania. Nobody ever sees the dictator, but everybody knows that “Big
brother is watching” you through telescreens, spies and the Thought Police. In this passage, Winston, the hero,
meets Syme, a friend who is working on the Newspeak dictionary.
'How is the Dictionary getting on?' said Winston, raising his voice to overcome the noise.
'Slowly,' said Syme. 'I'm on the adjectives. It's fascinating.'
He had brightened up immediately at the mention of Newspeak. (…)
'The Eleventh Edition is the definitive edition,' he said. 'We're getting the language into its final shape -- the
shape it's going to have when nobody speaks anything else. When we've finished with it, people like you will
have to learn it all over again. You think, (…) that our chief job is inventing new words. But not a bit of it! We're
destroying words -- scores of them, hundreds of them, every day. We're cutting the language down to the
bone. The Eleventh Edition won't contain a single word that will become obsolete before the year 2050.' (…)

His thin dark face had become animated, his eyes had lost their mocking expression and grown almost dreamy.

'It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but
there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the
antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A
word contains its opposite in itself. Take "good", for instance. If you have a word like "good", what need is
there for a word like "bad"? "Ungood" will do just as well -- better, because it's an exact opposite, which the
other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of "good", what sense is there in having a whole string of
vague useless words like "excellent" and "splendid" and all the rest of them? "Plusgood" covers the meaning,
or "doubleplusgood" if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already. but in the final
version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be
covered by only six words -- in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.'s
idea originally, of course,' he added as an afterthought.

A sort of vapid eagerness flitted across Winston's face at the mention of Big Brother. Nevertheless Syme
immediately detected a certain lack of enthusiasm.
'You haven't a real appreciation of Newspeak, Winston,' he said almost sadly. 'Even when you write it you're
still thinking in Oldspeak. I've read some of those pieces that you write in The Times occasionally. They're good
enough, but they're translations. In your heart you'd prefer to stick to Oldspeak, with all its vagueness and its
useless shades of meaning. You don't grasp the beauty of the destruction of words. Do you know that
Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?'

Winston did know that, of course. He smiled, sympathetically he hoped, not trusting himself to speak. (…)
'Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make
thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can
ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary
meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. But the
process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range
of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing
thoughtcrime. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won't be any need
even for that. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect (…). Has it ever occurred to you,
Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand
such a conversation as we are having now?'
George Orwell, 1984 (1949) (Abridged)
Dicing with data, The Economist, May 20
IN THE space of a week, two of the best-known internet companies have found themselves in a pickle
over privacy. Facebook faces criticism for making more information about its users available by
default. Meanwhile Google has been castigated by a bevy of privacy regulators for inadvertently
collecting data from unsecured Wi-Fi networks in people’s homes as part of a project to capture
images of streets around the world.
Although the two cases are distinct, they have revived fears that online privacy is being trampled
underfoot as internet behemoths race to grab as much data as possible. And they have provoked
calls for tougher action by regulators and governments to prevent web firms from abusing the
mountains of personal data they now hold. Danah Boyd, a social-networking expert, has even argued
that Facebook, with its hordes of members around the world, is now so embedded in people’s lives
that it should be regulated as a utility.
The firms have fought back. Facebook claims that most of its users are comfortable with the changes
it has introduced, including one that lets it share detailed customer data with some external sites. It
has blamed the furore on media hysteria; only a few privacy activists have publicly committed
“Facebook suicide” by closing their accounts. As for Google, it has apologised for its “mistake” and
says that leaders of its Street View project knew nothing about the software that allowed its roving
vehicles to capture snippets of e-mails.
At its most extreme, the attack on Facebook and Google makes little sense. Treating them as utilities
seems excessive, for two reasons. They are not essential services that enjoy a local or national
monopoly; people who feel their privacy is being violated are free to hop to other web services
(remember AltaVista and MySpace?), though many sites deliberately make it hard for them to take
their data with them. A second reason to tread carefully is that strict regulation could stifle the rapid
innovation in business models that has thrived on the internet. Instead, officials should concentrate
on enforcing existing privacy rules—something they seem reassuringly keen to do. Canada’s privacy
commissioner, Jennifer Stoddart, has given warning that her organisation may take action against
Facebook for violating a deal reached last year requiring the network to seek users’ permission
before sharing their data.
However, even if, like this newspaper, you both distrust government intervention and believe the
world has gained from the sharing of information on the web, there are plainly real grounds for
concern. For instance, Google claims it discovered that its software had been accidentally recording
private information for several years only after privacy officials in Germany demanded that it come
clean about the data being collected. That is a stunning admission from a technology giant—and
privacy watchdogs are right to investigate that.
Facebook’s problem is more fundamental. True, the social network has some of the most extensive
privacy controls on the web, but these have now become so complex—and are tweaked so often—
that even privacy experts find them bamboozling. The company also has a powerful incentive to push
people into revealing more information. Facebook generates most of its revenue from targeted
advertisements based on users’ demography and interests, so the more data users share publicly the
more money it can mint from ads. It may well be betting that users are now so hooked that they are
unlikely to revolt against a gradual loosening of privacy safeguards.
The worst thing is Facebook’s underlying prejudice against privacy. Sign up and it assumes you want
to share as much data as possible; if not, you have to change the settings, which can be a fiddly
business. The presumption should be exactly the opposite: the default should be tight privacy
controls, which users may then loosen if they choose. If Facebook fails to simplify and improve its
privacy policy, it will justly risk the wrath of regulators—and many more Facebook suicides.

Freedom of Speech, Norman Rockwell (1943)
Oil on canvas - 116.2 cm × 90 cm (45.75 in × 35.5 in)
Norman Rockwell Museum, Stockbridge, Massachusetts, United States

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