They contradicted each other, for much of what Alan Turing wanted—both in science and sex—could hardly be described in Oldspeak, while George Orwell's idea of truth required a connection of the mind with the world that the Turing machine did not have, and the Turing brain did not entirely want.
Neither thinker could do justice to the whole, and nor could the whole complex person that was Alan Turing keep true to his simple ideas. Yet in reaching the niente of his Sinfonia Antartica, he kept as close to his vision as the exigencies of the world allowed. Never content with the academic problems of dots and brackets, he found a purer end than Winston Smith.
With so few messages from the unseen mind to work on, his inner code remains unbroken. According to his imitation principle, it is quite meaningless to speculate upon his unspoken thoughts.
Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen. But Alan Turing could not possess the philosopher's detachment from life. It was, as the computer might put it, the unspeakable that left him speechless.
More precisely, it was predominantly the subject of male homosexuality that was coming into greater public prominence, just as the 1885 Act defined 'gross indecency' as a male crime.
In the parallel period after World War I, much had been made of a supposed 'Black Book' compiled by the German secret service, containing names of thousands of 'sexual perverts', both men and women.
This was one reason why in 1921 the Commons had voted to extend the 1885 Act to women.
But the Lords rejected the proposal—believing that even to mention the crime would have the effect of giving women ideas.