For those who have prophetic souls, the study of literature can be quite satisfying, especially if it is done outside the Academy. For inside the lecture hall, post-modern vampires will drain all life from a great novel, poem, or play, and leave it in your hands crumbling to dust. But let great authors on their own terms speak to you, and their words will elucidate the past and even show you the future. One such novelist is Herman Melville, author of Moby-Dick. His voice has something to teach about America’s possible future, and the angry voices we hear around us today would do well to listen. Through his great white whale, Melville offers a prophetic warning.
MOBY-DICK: AN ANALOGICAL TALE
Though several movies now tell its story, Moby-Dick (first published in 1851) offers a challenge to moviemakers. Melville’s masterpiece, which 19th-century critics and the reading public failed to recognize, is a daunting and complicated book. The plot is hard to condense suitably in a few lines. I would not even try it. But as a child some years ago, I remember reading a TV Guide listing that provided a summary in just a brief phrase, “Madman chases whale.” Of course, that completely misses the author’s point. It is understandable, however, that moviemakers and listing writers might have difficulty with this novel. The problem for them is that Melville’s story is analogical, not literal. Like a parable, its images provide a vehicle for meaning that lies far beyond them—meaning that many may find uncomfortable.
Commentators note that the story of the Essex, a whaling ship rammed and sunk by a large whale in 1820, inspired Melville’s tale. The real story of the Essex, however, comes from the three-month nightmare at sea endured by those who escaped the sinking ship–the captain and 20 crew members. Of these, only eight survived, included the captain, George Pollard, Jr. That survival ordeal devolved ultimately into cannibalism, but none of that really appears in Melville’s book, so the story of Ahab and the Pequod is not a fictionalized account of Pollard and the Essex.
Instead, it is a prophecy that is even more terrible—one that speaks like an Amos or Joel to America’s soul.
THE STORY’S MEANING
So what does the story mean? It is social criticism, intensely symbolic and razor sharp. It has no more to do with whaling than Jesus’ “Parable of the Sower” has to do with scientific agriculture. Melville simply used whaling and the fate of the Essex as a vehicle to offer America a cautionary tale. During the author’s life, America could not hear his warning; both he and Moby-Dick fell into obscurity. But Melville was a prophet. The tragic outbreak of the Civil War, less than a decade after the novel’s publication, certainly establishes his reputation as a seer, though few at the time noticed. Tragically, he and most of his work remained virtually unknown. Only in the 20th century have critics recognized Moby-Dick as a literary classic and Melville as one of America’s most important authors. Nonetheless, in the 21st century, his prophetic warning remains unheeded, even by the majority of those who have read the adventure. Parables are like that.
What Melville fears in the American character is a perverse, Puritan-like turn of mind that must see all experience in terms of good and evil, pressing everything into that mold—whether or not it fits. Ahab symbolizes how that character responds to deep and personal wounds. He has lost his leg to the great whale. That is the wound. He now seeks a righteous retribution, extending his holy passion through his ship and its crew. Blood for blood, Moby-Dick will pay with its life to satisfy Ahab’s vengeance. But the creature he crusades to destroy is neither good nor evil; it is simply a force of nature and cares nothing for Ahab’s categories. When Ahab crushes all experience into his press of moral vengeance, he pits himself and all who are with him against the forces of reality itself. That challenge brings them all to destruction—save one, Ishmael, the witness. Had the North and the South heeded Melville’s warning, perhaps both sides could have worked to trade pride and righteous indignation to win justice, human dignity, and unity, rather than to beckon so many young men to their deaths, leaving so many widows and orphans and such deep and open racial wounds.
The Pequod symbolizes America; Ahab is a twisted covenant with death that fills the ship’s sails and arrogantly directs her course. Ishmael is the one born outside that covenant, the one who survives to tell the tale. The mixed crew, assembled from different geographical locations, races, and classes, represents society and culture. The great white whale is the mystery of reality itself, from which all life emerges but ever extends—in sorrow or in joy–beyond human categories and understanding.
America’s nightmare destiny, in Melville’s view, is to use her power and technology in a moral assault upon reality itself in order to destroy what is evil and to establish what is good. That perverse crusade will seek to chisel from what actually exists an idol crafted in its own image—an idol arrogant and cruel, a pseudo-deity that bewitches the nation’s imagination to worship the very act of fabrication, that blinds it to what is real, and then seduces the culture to its own destruction—just as Ahab’s waving dead arm, his body tied fast to the whale by harpoon line, beckons his crew to their deaths. That is the meaning of Melville’s parable; at least, that is the best that I can do.
MOBY-DICK’S MESSAGE TODAY
What might Moby-Dick’s message be to an all too sophisticated 21st-century America? The great white whale might offer some advice. For example, it would not discount the struggle between good and evil. Anyone with a brain and a bit of history knows that this conflict is real. But the ocean beast would simply remind us that we infuse our own unmistakable stink on most of the evil we see yet choose to remain nose blind. A rational crusade to stamp out evil, consequently, would have to begin by stamping out ourselves. That might cause a bit of self-reflection before we elect to raise the banners and to blow the trumpets.
The great whale might also remind us that we keep getting it wrong—on purpose. We like to play games with good and evil. The motive? It is hard to trick people into doing corrupt and brutal things that serve our personal interests. If they think they do it in the name of a noble cause, however, the deceit becomes much easier to pull off. For that transforms “I oppose you” into “You are evil.” Attaching that epithet turns people into worthless things. History teaches that motivated warriors will crush what they perceive as evil far more enthusiastically than they will crush what they see as another human being.
The monster whale would also say that for political, economic, or ideological reasons, we keep twisting what the struggle is. The beast would tell us that we purposely create monsters in order to destroy them, as if it were a particularly satisfying human hobby. It would point out that we do this to avoid basing our moral judgments on any systematic and rational ethical theory, preferring to seek personal affronts and to stir up prejudices to fuel moral outrage. Pretexts are easier. It would also note that we turn opponents into villains with ad hominem attacks, hurling the same assaults against anyone who might venture a defense. Then we elevate those with whom we sympathize to sainthood, overlooking any flaws and imparting to them a purity of motive that we know is most certainly nonsense. This projection, the sea creature would observe, we use to avoid dealing with rational objections and to take the moral offensive against anyone who makes a legitimate criticism.
Finally, Moby-Dick would question why we so eagerly embrace any ideological view—political, religious, social, or economic—when it seduces us to take hysterical fanatical action, even in the face of facts, common sense, and human decency. The creature would wonder, “Why do you risk the lives of others, put our own lives in jeopardy, and destroy what has taken years to build just to stand for dogmatic ideas that cannot tolerate alternative views or negotiate the real world but, instead, demand the mangling and dismemberment of reality to fit imaginary categories and to fuel infantile rage? Even to an uneducated whale, that makes no sense.”
Such advice the great white whale might provide–in simple respect to its creator, Herman Melville. For Moby-Dick’s author warns us not to follow that lifeless, beckoning arm leading to disaster, no matter from what part of our culture it might be waving. So his creature dutifully passes on the counsel but then indifferently swims away and leaves us to our own devices. Forces of nature are like that; they do not care about humankind’s future. But if we learn to listen, with the help of an insightful author, they can help us to face reality with greater wisdom. That is desperately needed during these days in which grim-faced crowds, full of spleen, deliberately step without restraint into the streets and methodically begin knocking peoples’ hats off—or worse.
Sources:
https://archive.org/details/moby_dick_librivox?q=Moby+Dick
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-true-life-horror-that-inspired-moby-dick-17576/
http://www.massmoments.org/moment.cfm?mid=334