William Golding
Il Signore delle Mosche

Skimmed through as a high school student, reread almost twenty years later as a professor, certainly Lord of the Flies does not leave one indifferent. At the time, it seemed like something immense, like the revelation of absolute evil, a scientific demonstration: the black that enters the official palette of feelings, even that of the school institution. Ferocity as the leading actor in history. Not that pessimism is lacking in ministerial programs, on the contrary, Italian readings are often shadowy and disheartening, in general, but here I believe it goes well beyond the simple struggle of existence, the melancholy of a sad life.

Violence and the arbitrariness of the tyrant as a deliberate choice, as a childish vocation of mankind. A coup conceived lucidly and perpetrated against legitimate and recognized power. I won’t reiterate the obvious here (what the conch, the fire, Piggy's glasses, etc., represent) but I would like to focus on alleged schemas and subtle filigrees that on one hand may have slightly diminished the success and echo of this work in the landscape of Italian criticism, and on the other make it a reading still full of importance and that reverberates its meanings through not-so-obvious trajectories.

Reread in light of today's events, this book sparkles with a disconcerting modernity, which goes far beyond the references to 20th-century dictatorships. Because the necessity of violence, the “frenzy of slaughter,” “the blood and terror” are subversively justified by the tribe's leader: “This head is for the beast. It's a gift.” A beast that never dies, then “we’d better appease it, always. Who knows what it might do to us.” It's shocking to find in Jack's words the essence of so many political speeches still made today, especially today. Fear is the engine of everything, the irrational phobia of the unknown.

A paratrooper caught in the thick of branches becomes a demon. And what we are willing to do to avert its inevitability (which we envisage in the long nights of our rational thought) makes us capable of anything. Everything is legitimate when terror moves our actions. And it's significant that this is born of a misrepresentation, a fake news, a tendentious reading of reality that is then perpetuated in the centrifugal chatter of public opinion. In the end, the story of evil, of ferocity to resist a presumed nemesis, is a necessity we have inside, more than the result of a real fact. And so what we see is always open to interpretation, the vision becomes hallucinatory and the beast is everywhere. It is even Simon. Christ is killed because mistaken for an emanation of the devil.

Not all the great metaphors of the book are schoolishly unraveled, there’s a richness of shading that aims at a more refined study of the motives of evil, not asserting it arbitrarily, but depicting it in an intricate scenario, full of psychological cues. Democracy (Ralph), the state, politics with its technicians and scientists (Piggy), with its more or less worn symbols (the conch), with its myths of civilization (making smoke to be rescued) that are not always understood by the people. All this world of ideality is not free from faults, indeed, it is partially responsible for the development and success of totalitarian ferocity (Jack). Within the limits of forms of government lies the seed of rebellion, because they are formally ridiculous and cumbersome (only the one holding the conch can speak) and reveal themselves fragile and ineffective in face of fears (the beast), dominated by the same irrationality that pervades the people (the little ones), forced to legitimize the violent parts of society (the hunters). The state demands much (keeping the fire always lit) but cannot guarantee a safe perspective, neither concerning its objectives (being rescued) nor regarding the tentacular threats of the unpredictable and irrational.

The world of 2021 is not that different, if you think about it.

Ralph's logical thinking halts with sudden curtains falling. His ego is no less fierce than Jack's, and his democratic legitimacy is not always reaffirmed through a display of charisma (the electoral confirmation) but often rests on an authoritarianism (“I am the chief”) that forgets the need to also be authoritative. The vote that elected Ralph becomes a pretext to impose one's will overly trenchantly on popular sentiment. But when Jack opens a parliamentary crisis it turns out he doesn’t have enough deputies on his side to take power. So the only alternative to the ineffectiveness of Ralph’s policies is to completely repudiate the democratic system and propose one that is radically different.

It would be misleading to think this is a struggle between pure good and pure evil. Not surprisingly, when the leader meets (spoiler!) the naval officer at the end of the novel and is asked if they’ve killed anyone, the boy replies: “Only two. And the bodies have disappeared.” To preserve its own existence, even Ralph (the democratic state) embraces ferocity: “He tasted the point of the spear with his thumb and sneered, vengeful. He would spear anyone who tried, like a pig, and what screams.” The state is guilty of believing in the irrational myths of the wild side within us. It has eaten the meat of those pigs, seen with eyes of madness that beast that is no beast, danced in the rain to ask for the storm to end, maybe beaten that Christ who wanted to bring a different Creed, acknowledged its crime but then, self-indulgent, forgave itself. Ultimately, it claimed to confront the tyrant with his same weapons, spears, and bites, blows and animalistic instinct. It's not so much about mourning the deaths, Ralph, because his is an obsession, the obsession with power that wears down even those who have it.

Much, much more could be said, obviously a review is not enough to exhaust the cues. Reading this classic flows easily, but it is perceived that in each passage there is a greater meaning to be uncovered, and while some might seem obvious, we have seen the richness of non-trivial shades of Golding's great metaphor. An author who, by the way, demonstrates a truly remarkable freshness of writing, unforgettable for example are the scenes of the great sow hunt (“possessed by an orgiastic frenzy,” “Jack found the throat, and the warm blood spurted over his hands... The butterflies still danced”), the exquisitely psychological counterpoint of each step is gently offered to our attentive reading, but without losing any of the underlying narrative freshness. Perhaps the minimal flaw of this book lies in its being all extremely essential. There is not a word that is not fundamental, in the terrifying black cathedral Golding constructs on this island, once adamantine and now ablaze.