The Savage Beast— Man’s Inherent Primitivism as Shown in Lord of the Flies

Ray Penman Oct 3, 2010 The Savage Beast– Guy’s Inherent Primitivism as Shown in Lord of the Flies A running style in Lord of the Flies is that guy is savage at heart, constantly eventually reverting back to an evil and primitive nature. The cycle of guy’s increase to power, or righteousness, and his inevitable fall from grace is an important point that book shows again and once again, typically comparing guy with characters from the Bible to offer a more brilliant image of his descent.

Lord of the Flies represents this fall in different manners, varying from the illustration of the mentality of real primitive male to the reflections of a corrupt seafarer in purgatory.

The novel is the story of a group of kids of different backgrounds who are marooned on an unknown island when their airplane crashes. As the young boys try to organize and develop a plan to get rescued, they begin to separate and as an outcome of the dissension a band of savage tribal hunters is formed. Eventually the young boys lose all sense of home and civilization. “The world, that reasonable and lawful world, was slipping away. (Golding, Ch 5) When the confusion lastly results in a manhunt, the reader recognizes that regardless of the strong sense of British character and civility that has actually been instilled in the youth throughout their lives, the kids have backpedalled and shown the underlying savage side existent in all people The novel shows the reader how easy it is to revert back to the evil nature inherent in guy: if a group of well-conditioned school young boys can ultimately wind up devoting numerous severe travesties, one can picture what grownups, leaders of society, are capable of doing under the pressures of attempting to maintain world relations.

Lord of the Flies’ apprehension of evil is such that it touches the nerve of contemporary scary as no English book of its time has actually done; it takes us, through importance, into a world of active, proliferating evil which is seen, one feels, as the natural condition of guy and which is bound to remind the reader of the vilest manifestations of Nazi regression. In the unique, Simon is a serene lad who tries to reveal the young boys that there is no beast on the island other than the worries that the boys have. Simon attempts to mention the reality: “Maybe there is a monster …

What I mean is … perhaps it’s only us.” (Golding, Ch 5) When he makes this revelation, he is mocked. This is an astonishing parallel to the misunderstanding that Christ had to handle throughout his life. Later in the story, the savage hunters are chasing after a pig. Once they kill the pig, they put its head on a stick and Simon experiences an epiphany. As Simon rushes to the campfire to tell the boys of his discovery, he is struck in the side with a spear, his prophecy turned down and the word he wished to spread out neglected.

Simon is up to the ground dead and is referred to as lovely and pure. The description of his death, the manner in which he passed away, and the cause for which he passed away are remarkably similar to the situations of Christ’s life and supreme demise. The significant difference is that Christ passed away on the cross, while Simon was speared. Nevertheless, a reader familiar with the Bible remembers that Christ was stabbed in the side with a spear before his crucifixion. When Piggy, the largest advocate of the law, is killed near the end of the book, the conch is broken.

Up until that point, the conch had been a way to manage and calm the crowd– only someone holding the conch might speak. When Jack and the young boys have had enough of Ralph’s laws, the boys kill Piggy and shatter the conch. The law ceases to exist, though when the young boys are rescued, the “game” ends and they are as soon as again just bedraggled boys smeared in mud and blood on the coast. William Golding goes over man’s capacity for fear and cowardice. In the novel, the kids on the island first come across a natural worry of being stranded on an uncharted island without the counsel of grownups.

Once the young boys start to arrange and begin to feel more adult-like themselves, the fear of monsters takes over. It is easy to understand that kids ranging in ages from toddlers to young teenagers would have worries of beasts, especially when it is thought about that the children are stranded on the island. The author wants to reveal, however, that fear is an emotion that is instinctive and active in people from the very beginnings of their lives.

This discovery discovers another weak point in male, supporting the concept or belief that man is useless and savage at the really core of his presence. Throughout the unique, there is a battle for power in between 2 groups. This struggle shows guy’s worry of losing control, which is another example of his selfishness and weak point. The worry of beasts is natural; the fear of losing power is inherited. The author utilizes these vices to show the point that any type of unchecked fear contributes to male’s instability and will ultimately result in his death spiritually and maybe even physically.

The author chooses to utilize an island as the setting for most of the story. The island is an essential sign in Lord of the Flies. It suggests the isolation of guy in a frightening and mystical cosmos. The island in the novel is an actual island, but it’s more than just that. It is a microcosm of life itself, the adult world, and the human struggle with his own isolation. Guy grows more savage at heart as he progresses since of his cowardice and his quest for power.

The novel shows this by throwing up opposing forces into a scenario that dowses them with power struggles and frightening situations. By comparing mankind in general to Biblical characters in comparable situations, the unique offers images of the darker side of male. This darker side of male’s nature inevitably wins and guy is shown to be an useless race that refuses to accept responsibility for its shortcomings.

Bibliography: Golding, William. Lord of the Flies. 1952. 13. 3 (1952 ): 1-248. Print.

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