Of the many themes shipwreck encompasses or alludes to, one is obviously the shady, complex border between “civilization” and beyond. Shipwreck clearly places man on the verge of society, a place where rules purport to prime over what is generally termed “instinct”. Aggressiveness and sexual desire, to mention the most obvious, are curtailed by a complex series of norms that often go way beyond strict rational egotistical behaviour (as in any line of individualistic liberalism). For instance, most people do not kill their boss o that insufferable next door neighbour, much as many often deserve a grisly end. This is probably due not only in order to avoid prison, but also because they do not seriously consider murder an acceptable alternative in social intercourse.
However, SW is precisely a case in which social norms can o “may” be suspended. The paradigmatic life boat is a good place to begin.
Picture a storm in the south seas circa 1780. No radio, no telegraph, no news of any other ship for hundreds of miles around. In this case, no hope of reaching land for a long time, if and when the boat keeps afloat.
A crowded little dinghy with one man too many (a favourite utilitarian theme, in passing). Is it licit to chuck the extra guy overboard, thus ensuring the rest a better chance of survival? And in that case, whom shall we chuck? For some (notably the earlier mentioned Utilitarians) it is morally admissible for the few to be sacrificed for the many (and, as I understand it, not only in state of need situations).
For others there is really no moral issue at all, or, stretching the definition a bit further than language seems to permit, the rules of survival reign (a way of acknowledging the superiority of the species over the individual, a pretty clear cut “law of nature”).
Getting back to that solitary life boat, imagine days going by due to good floatability and seamanship, suddenly a grimmer prospect than drowning could be starvation.
As anyone who has witnessed a wedding feast knows, people get edgy when hungry, and tend to lose the grip on their manners. Fellow man might be the bastard who makes it first to that lobster. The image of prosperous, well fed adults charging at the cold meats and flinging themselves indecorously at the salmon is damning.
Picture that life boat, buffeted by the waves… there is still a small reserve of drinking water, and after days of harsh rationing, the last morsel of food is long gone. The rough companionship of fears begins to slowly recede. Hunger sets each man apart. Suddenly, the chubby cabin boy, who will probably never make it anyway, begins to resemble a leg of ham, as the pitiless sun blurs your sight and the pains of starvation bite into your gut.
A case such as this was once put before the Chamber of the Lords. (Unfortunately I cannot remember the reference). I will not, however, forget the Lord’s final holding. But first, the facts.
Taking up where we left off, exit chubby cabin boy after unseemly scuffle, and, against all probability, not 24 hours later, ship on the horizon. Needless to say the news breaks out and charges are brought on return to London.
In the memorable words of the Chief Justice, however dire the circumstances, before resorting to murder “…they should have died like good English sailors. …”. That´s the stuff empires are made of! Naturally, as long a you understand that the rule does not apply to the “natives”.
Another interesting case of hunger was, this time, not the consequence but the cause of shipwreck.
Starving castaways on Circe’s island, Odysseus’ men languish in view of the healthy herd of Zeus Circe has vowed to protect. As can be surmised, while Odysseus slept, the men decided to defy the Gods rather than starve. Before the smell of roast meat had melted away, a ship had appeared and the hapless lot were on the way to Neptune’s vengeance. Only Odysseus survived, on a raft we will return to, of course.
