Intro
Put together a bunch of schoolboys, no authority figures, and a deserted island, and what do you get? Not children playing nicely, that’s for sure.
Finding themselves stranded after a plane crash, the boys in this novel start off by thinking like good scouts: they know that they’ve got to set up a system of hunting for food, keep a fire going, tie the right knots, and so on. They also decide that it’s no good for them to spend their time shouting over one another and, because of this, decide to use a conch shell to designate who has the right to speak at any given time. Predictably, though, it doesn’t take long for things to get out of hand: think Lost meets The Hunger Games.
This novel is interesting from a semiotics viewpoint because of the role that signs play in conveying both its themes and the changes the boys go through as order and civilization crumble away. One example is the imaginary beast that becomes a source of fear (okay, we’re really in Lost territory here): it’s pretty natural that the boys’ imaginations should run wild given that they’re spending their nights on a deserted island. Let’s face it, it wouldn’t exactly be a picnic for most of us.
Still, this novel is also an allegory that reveals the savagery lurking beneath the surface of civilization. One of the boys, the deep-thinking Simon, makes this point himself, recognizing that the beast isn’t a scary monster roaming the forest but something within themselves. Quite the philosopher for a little guy, eh? Case in point: we can see that the beast seems more and more real to the boys as they themselves get more savage. Coincidence? We think not.
With fears running high, the boys do what anyone in their situation would do: ram a pig’s head onto a stick and offer it up to the beast. Er, we’re pretty sure that that’s not in the scouts’ handbook. Again, it’s Simon who reacts to the motif on a deep level, imagining that it’s speaking to him of the evil within the human heart.
That the term “Lord of the Flies” literally translates as Beelzebub (a powerful biblical demon who dabbles in Manga) doesn’t exactly help matters; in fact, the novel features lots of biblical parallels (the island itself suggests the Garden of Eden). The fire also serves an important function, not just on a practical level but because its status signifies the extent to which the boys are connected to the civilized world. Feeling the semiotics vibe yet?
As for the conch (probably the book’s most famous motif), it reaches crisis point near the end of the book, as we see in this moment with Ralph (who’s like the team captain), Jack (the class bully), and Piggy (everyone’s favorite punching bag):
Quote
Ralph shouted against the noise.
“Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?”
Now Jack was yelling too and Ralph could no longer make himself heard. Jack had backed right against the tribe and they were a solid mass of menace that bristled with spears. The intention of a charge was forming among them; they were working up to it and the neck would be swept clear. Ralph stood facing them, a little to one side, his spear ready. By him stood Piggy still holding out the talisman, the fragile, shining beauty of the shell. The storm of sound beat at them, an incantation of hatred. High overhead, Roger, with a sense of delirious abandonment, leaned all his weight on the lever.
Ralph heard the great rock before he saw it. He was aware of a jolt in the earth that came to him through the soles of his feet, and the breaking sound of stones at the top of the cliff. Then the monstrous red thing bounded across the neck and he flung himself flat while the tribe shrieked.
The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee; the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist. Piggy, saying nothing, with no time for even a grunt, traveled through the air sideways from the rock, turning over as he went. The rock bounded twice and was lost in the forest. Piggy fell forty feet and landed on his back across the square red rock in the sea. His head opened and stuff came out and turned red. Piggy’s arms and legs twitched a bit, like a pig’s after it has been killed. Then the sea breathed again in a long, slow sigh, the water boiled white and pink over the rock; and when it went, sucking back again, the body of Piggy was gone.
This time the silence was complete. Ralph’s lips formed a word but no sound came.
Suddenly Jack bounded out from the tribe and began screaming wildly.
“See? See? That’s what you’ll get! I meant that! There isn’t a tribe for you any more! The conch is gone—”
He ran forward, stooping.
“I’m chief!”
Analysis
Just a typical day in middle school, huh?
The boys discover the conch early in the novel and use it to maintain order during meetings. But that initially democratic purpose soon changes as the boys turn to savagery. Sure, so not all the boys turn to savagery—they split into factions led by two of the boys, so in the red corner there’s Ralph, the level-headed and fair-minded leader, while in the blue corner we’ve got Jack, who’s power-hungry and ruthless.
Let’s not forget about Piggy, one of the boys that sticks with Ralph. We all know how cruel kids can be, and since Piggy wears glasses, has asthma, and is on the heavy side, it’s no surprise that he gets some serious grief from Jack and his gang (seriously, did you think he named himself Piggy?).
The rift between the two sides has become dramatic by the time we get to the above passage, with Jack’s tribe having descended into full-on barbarism (Supernanny would have her work cut out for her with these kids). Piggy’s glasses have also become a valuable commodity due to the usefulness of their lenses in creating a fire.
Think being nearsighted makes him more popular with the gang? Think again. Jack’s tribe steals the glasses, leaving Ralph and his group powerless. When Ralph and Piggy confront Jack near the end of the novel, a storm is brewing and the tribe is armed with spears. Piggy, meanwhile, is still holding the conch: an emblem of the order that has all but broken down (are you tearing up yet?).
Even though it was already pretty obvious the conch had lost its power, the point of no return comes when one of the boys launches a rock off the cliff, killing Piggy and smashing the conch. Jack wastes no time in pointing out that the conch was the last emblem of order, and of Ralph’s authority. Now that it’s gone, Jack asserts his own role as chief (well, he says “chief”—dictator is more like it).
The key thing is that there’s nothing inherently important about the shell: its association with order and democracy is something that the boys have established and, consequently, destroyed. This helps demonstrate that emblems of power may seem invested with meaning, but that meaning is man-made. The Lord of the Flies therefore isn’t just about a shell or a bunch of kids going wild: it’s an allegory that shines light on the dynamics of power relations in a wider sense—whether the island is an actual island or, like, the U.S. government.