What Flies Tells Us

When moral underpinnings go, we’re undone

The little society they fashioned for themselves seemed stable. It was founded on democratic principles of free speech and individual responsibility. If they worked at it, the little group believed their community would hold together.

They had come together by accident, united only by a mutual need for security and support. When one of them stepped up to lead, the others reluctantly declared him their leader. Priorities were set, teams were assigned fundamental tasks, and a sense of community began to form in the minds of the boys.

For they were just boys, this instant community, a bunch of pre-teen and early teen boys. They had survived a plane crash and were stranded on a small island. Without warning, they were saddled with total responsibility for looking after one another, governing themselves, and growing up really, really fast.

It didn’t turn out well.

William Golding’s Lord of the Flies was not a comfortable read when it was published almost 70 years ago. It still isn’t. The novel deconstructs the democratic experience through the eyes and actions of a dozen or so British boys trying to stay alive until they can be rescued. Some of the boys wonder what “the grownups” would do in the situation and fleetingly try to imitate them; others can’t rise above games-playing and whimpering fright.

The story is messy, as human experience tends to be. Characters are, in turn, kind and menacing, brave and foolish. Good guys make bad decisions; bad guys, worse ones. There’s name-calling and bravado. Cowardice courses through them, and when mature counsel occasionally pops up, it usually is rejected.

Without giving away the plot—in case you want to re-read the novel or read it for the first time—it can be said that violence ultimately ensues. From moderated group discussions and rational planning, the boys descend to blood sport. “Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!” they chant on command.  

Thus, did immaturely formed notions of correct behavior yield to childish groupthink. Wisdom was crowd-sourced, with predictable results. There wasn’t a grownup in the room and it showed. Tragically.

Here is how Golding describes societal degeneration, as depicted in his novel: “The story is an attempt to trace the defects of society back to the defects of human nature. The moral is that the shape of a society must depend on the ethical nature of the individual and not on any political system however apparently logical or respectable.”

In other words, the strength of a social order lies in its moral understanding rather than its founding principles. Ethical behavior—that is, integrity, honesty, respect for law, fairness, humility and so on—is the great preserver of societies. When such behavior is subordinated to other impulses, society cannot sustain itself.

History is rife with nations that collapsed under the strain of egoism and violent retribution, corrupt behavior and flagrant dishonesty, ranting and rutting. In short, entire societies have been destroyed by disreputable behavior. I’m thinking it could happen again.