This blog post examines how the recurring lion dream in The Old Man and the Sea symbolizes solidarity and hope beyond Santiago’s loneliness, exploring its narrative and symbolic significance.
If human life is ultimately a ‘futile struggle,’ then what lends even a modicum of meaning to this struggle is the bond between people. Hemingway persistently emphasizes in The Old Man and the Sea how crucial human solidarity and the spirit of cooperation are. Santiago, fishing alone on the vast ocean, is easily misunderstood as a symbol of individualism. Indeed, after the death of his wife, he lives alone and lonely in a shack. Even when fishing at sea, he rarely mingles with other fishermen, always fishing alone. He once hung a photograph of his wife on the wall of his humble hut, but whenever he looked at it, it made him feel excessively melancholy, so he eventually took it down and placed it under a shirt on a shelf in the corner of his room. Occasionally, when the old man sits with the boy Manolin at the village bar ‘Terrace,’ the other fishermen tease him. In modern terms, Santiago could be described as a lonely old man suffering from social exclusion.
Yet, in this work, Hemingway uses Santiago’s life—which appears lonely and desolate on the surface—to emphasize the importance of a sense of belonging. It might be more accurate to see Santiago as a man who, through experiencing solitude, came to understand with his very being how vital this awareness is. Having lived more lonely and desolate than anyone, he likely recognized the necessity of solidarity with fellow humans and mutual dependence more acutely. Thus, for Santiago, solitude functions as an indispensable element for realizing the value of mutual dependence.
Yet, while solitude creates the environment and atmosphere that allows Santiago to grasp these life values, Manolin performs the role of more concretely guiding the lonely, desolate old man into the world of solidarity and mutual dependence. Manolin not only brings the old man food, clothing, and necessities like soap, but also carries his fishing gear and catches bait for him. Moreover, he does not stop at merely aiding Santiago materially; he also serves as his spiritual companion. Even on days when luck fails and not a single fish is caught, it is none other than the young boy who always comforts the old man. When Santiago is with the boy, he rarely feels lonely or disappointed. In this regard, the novel’s narrator states, “The old man had not yet lost hope or confidence. And like a gentle breeze, hope and confidence were welling up anew.”
Nevertheless, Santiago’s lonely situation does not change easily. He once hung a photograph of his wife on the wall of his humble hut, but whenever he looked at it, he felt too melancholy, so he took it down and placed it under a shirt on a shelf in the corner of the room. Occasionally, when the old man sat at the village bar ‘Terrace’ with the boy Manolin, the fishermen would tease him. In modern terms, Santiago could be described as a lonely old man suffering from social exclusion.
Yet, in this work, Hemingway uses Santiago’s seemingly lonely and desolate life to once again emphasize the importance of a sense of belonging. It is more convincing to view Santiago as having learned, through his solitude, just how vital this sense of belonging truly is. Having lived more lonely and desolate than anyone, he would have felt the need for solidarity with fellow humans and mutual dependence more acutely. Thus, solitude acts as an indispensable element in helping Santiago realize the value of interdependence.
In this context, Manolin functions as the entity that more concretely guides the lonely, desolate old man into a world of connection and mutual dependence. He not only brings Santiago food, clothing, soap, and other necessities, but also carries his fishing gear and catches bait for him. Furthermore, he serves as Santiago’s spiritual companion, playing a role in sustaining the old man’s inner world. It is always the boy who comforts the old man when luck fails and he catches no fish. When Santiago is with the boy, he rarely succumbs to loneliness or disappointment.
To Manolin, Santiago is a mentor, a symbolic father figure, a role model, and a spiritual pillar. Yet, at times, their roles reverse. As the British Romantic poet William Wordsworth sang, “The child is father of the man,” Manolin faithfully fulfills an adult role by helping Santiago rediscover the meaning of life.
Santiago misses the boy repeatedly during his battle with the marlin. It is not merely longing; he desperately wishes the boy were there to help him fish and rub his cramped arm. The phrase “If only he were here” comes to his lips and echoes in his mind like the refrain of a folk song throughout his fishing ordeal. The nature of their relationship is starkly revealed in the conversation Santiago finally has with the boy upon reaching the harbor.
“Did people come looking for me?”
“Of course. They even mobilized the coast guard and an airplane.”
“The sea is so vast and the boat so small, it must have been incredibly difficult to find us,” the old man said. He felt anew how much he cherished the fact that there was someone to talk to, someone other than himself and the sea. “I missed you. But what did you catch?”
“I caught one the first day, another the next day, and two on the third day.”
“Very good.”
“Now I’ll go out with you, Grandfather, and we’ll catch them together.”
“That won’t do. I have no luck. My luck is gone.”
“Don’t say that. I can take your luck with me.”
“What will your family say?”
Santiago, who had been talking to himself alone on the vast ocean, confesses how happy he is to actually have a conversation with Manolin again. He says, “I felt anew how happy it is to have someone to talk to,” and even honestly admits, “I missed you.” When Manolin now says he wants to fish with Santiago, the old man says no, but the intensity of his refusal is incomparably weaker than before. Just a few days ago, he had said firmly, “No, you can’t. Your boat is a lucky boat. So just stay with those people.” But now he only says, “No, you can’t. I have no luck. My luck is gone.“ When Manolin says he doesn’t believe in luck, the old man backs down, asking, ”What would your family say?” This can be interpreted as meaning he would go fishing again with the boy if only his family didn’t object.
When the sharks take nearly half of the marlin he caught at the risk of his life, Santiago regrets going out so far alone. He says several times, “Fish, I shouldn’t have gone out this far. For your sake and mine. Fish, I’m sorry.” He also laments, “The fish is now split in two.
Once it was a whole fish. I went too far out. I ruined us both.“ He further reflects, ”No one should be alone in old age,” thinking that Manolin, the other fishermen, and the villagers must be worried about him. His words, “I live in a good village,” reveal a moment when he rediscovers his place as part of the community.
Santiago believes that losing the fish to the sharks wasn’t just bad luck, but the result of being far from his fellow humans. For him, luck isn’t found in solitude, but only within human society. His soliloquy—“If I had luck, maybe I could have taken at least the front half. Shouldn’t I have a little luck left? No way. When you go too far out, you’ve already ruined your luck”—conveys his realization of how precious his bonds with people, including Manolin, truly are.
The lions play a role as significant as the boy in helping Santiago grasp the value of solidarity and mutual dependence. In the Bible, lions are mentioned over 150 times in the Old Testament and about nine times in the New Testament, serving as a highly significant symbol. Particularly, regardless of Old or New Testament, the lion appears as a symbol pointing toward the coming Jesus Christ. Representative verses include: “Judah is a lion’s cub” (Genesis 49:9) and “The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has prevailed” (Revelation 5:5). Meanwhile, American novelist and playwright Irwin Shaw gained attention with his World War II novel The Young Lions (1948), which was adapted into a highly popular film in 1958. Here, ‘young lions’ refers to courageous young people pursuing youth and dreams in defiance of the established generation.
Irish poet William Butler Yeats wrote in his prose collection “Visions”: “There is a certain scene, a certain adventure, a certain image that becomes the secret image of life for everyone. If he savors it throughout his life, it may guide his soul.” Santiago possesses precisely such a scene: the image of a young lion that frequently appears in his dreams. In The Old Man and the Sea, Santiago dreams of lions three times.
He first dreams of lions the night before setting out on his three-day fishing trip. He tells Manolin, “When I was your age, I was a sailor on a square-rigged ship sailing to Africa. In the evenings, I used to see lions prowling along the coast.“ That very night, he dreams of lions. The narrator states, ”The old man’s dreams no longer featured storms, women, great events, big fish, fights, contests of strength, or the image of his dead wife. He only dreamed of lions appearing in various regions and along the coast. The lions played in the twilight like kittens, and he loved them as he had loved the boy.”
It is noteworthy here that the narrator compares the young lions to kittens. This is not for taxonomic reasons, but because young lions are perceived as creatures as friendly and docile to humans as domestic cats. The lions Santiago recalls are not the fierce beasts commonly called the ‘king of beasts,’ but rather, always, adorable lion cubs. Furthermore, the narrator’s statement, “He loved these lions as he loved the boy,” is also significant. In Santiago’s mind, the young lions and Manolin are inseparable, like Siamese twins, always appearing together and difficult to think of separately.
Santiago dreams of lions for the second time while battling the marlin. Hoping the fish will fall asleep, he murmurs to himself, “Then I could sleep too, and dream of lions. Why do only lions remain in my mind?” After this, he begins dreaming of a long, yellow beach. At first, a single lion descends to the shore in the early dawn darkness, soon followed by others. As he waits, watching to see if more lions appear, he feels a certain contentment.
The key point to note in this scene is that the lions appearing in the dream are not singular but plural, appearing in a group. Santiago focuses on the lions’ collectivity rather than their individuality. The young lions playing together on the beach remind him of his lost youth, dreams, and hopes, while simultaneously awakening in him the value of solidarity and mutual dependence.
The final lion dream appears after he arrives at the port and falls into a deep sleep in a shack. At the work’s conclusion, the narrator states: “Up the road in a shack, the old man was asleep again. He slept with his face buried in his hands, and the boy sat beside him, watching over him. The old man was dreaming of lions.” His posture, arms outstretched with palms facing upward, resembles the image of Jesus Christ crucified on Golgotha, as many critics have noted. In this scene, the lion functions as a symbol that overlaps not only with Manolin but also with Christ within a biblical context.
Baseball also plays a crucial role in helping Santiago realize the importance of solidarity and mutual dependence. Hemingway was a great lover of baseball, and this interest naturally surfaces in his work. In The Old Man and the Sea, baseball is used as a device symbolizing human solidarity and cooperation. Unlike bullfighting, safari hunting, or fishing, baseball is a highly organized team sport, a cooperative endeavor where victory is impossible through individual effort alone. Because of these characteristics, baseball is still frequently used today as a metaphor for organizational management and teamwork.
Even while battling the marlin, Santiago cannot shake thoughts of baseball. Though he dislikes machinery, he desires a portable radio specifically to listen to baseball broadcasts aboard his boat. Manolin also loves baseball. When Santiago asks, “Shall I tell you about Africa, or about baseball?” the boy answers without hesitation, “I’d like to hear about baseball.”
Santiago’s favorite baseball player is Joseph Paul DiMaggio. He was a legendary outfielder who played for the New York Yankees from 1936 to 1951, an idol-like figure to Santiago. When Manolin says the Cleveland Indians have the advantage, Santiago immediately retorts, “Boy, believe in the Yankees.
He’s got that great DiMaggio.” Santiago’s admiration for DiMaggio wasn’t solely because his father had been a poor fisherman. Above all, he was an outstanding team player who embodied the value of cooperation. While players like Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox had more impressive individual records, DiMaggio stood out as the player most respected for his dedication to the team. Especially remarkable was how he played his best right to the end, despite the weakness of having bone spurs in his heels. Santiago, battling the marlin, resolves, “I must be like DiMaggio, fighting beautifully to the end despite the bone spur in his heel.” For Santiago, who has come to understand the value of solidarity, DiMaggio himself is a role model.
