This blog post looks beyond the common perception of The Old Man and the Sea as solely a narrative of man’s solitary struggle, examining the coexistence of humans and nature and the ecological solidarity revealed through Santiago’s perspective.
It is said that literary works that have attained the status of classics are read anew in every era. Classics are works that rarely succumb to the erosion of time, yet they are also works that always offer new meaning to new readers. This reading experience is repeated even within the same reader. Even with the same classic work, the meaning felt when reading it young and the meaning felt when rereading it later in life inevitably differ. Published in 1952 and enduring over seventy years, The Old Man and the Sea is no exception to this rule. Today, when environmental and ecological crises are more critical issues than ever, readers can find new meanings about nature within this novel. It is fascinating that Ernest Hemingway, already questioning anthropocentrism and adopting a nature-friendly attitude in the early 1950s, when such problems were not as sharply highlighted as they are now.
Santiago’s nature-friendly attitude is revealed first and foremost in his perspective on the sea, his livelihood. The Spanish word for sea has a different characteristic compared to French or Italian, which belong to the same Romance language family. In French, the sea is considered feminine and called ‘la mer’, while in Italian, it is considered masculine and called ‘il mare’. However, Spanish has both feminine and masculine nouns for the sea. That is, the sea can be called ‘la mar’ or ‘el mar’. Yet Santiago always regards the sea as feminine and calls it ‘la mar’. One must not be fooled by William Shakespeare’s line, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” How we name an object inevitably shapes our attitude and perception of it.
The old man always thought of the sea as ‘La Mar,’ the Spanish term used affectionately by the people of this region to refer to the sea. Of course, even those who love the sea sometimes speak ill of it, but even then, they always called it as if it were a woman. (Excerpt) The old man always thought of the sea as female, saying it was a being that bestowed great favors and also took them away. Even when the sea behaved fiercely or brought disaster, he believed it was something beyond the sea’s control. He thought the sea was influenced by the moon, just as the moon influenced women.
Santiago perceived the sea as female, deliberately calling it ‘La Mar’ rather than ‘El Mar’. The more ecologically conscious a people, the more they have traditionally regarded the land—which nurtures all grains and brings humans abundance and fertility—as female. Often, it was likened specifically to a mother who bears and raises children. Many peoples, including the American Indians, still call the earth ‘Mother Earth’ or ‘Earth Mother’ to this day. Without needing to cite distant examples, the Korean people have also revered the earth like a mother since ancient times. The mountain goddess, Sanseonghalmang, who can be considered Korea’s earth goddess, is a prime example. The term “halmang” (할망) means grandmother, but originally signified “han-eomeoni” (한어머니), meaning the great mother.
Santiago perceives not only the earth but even the sea as female, and furthermore, as a benevolent mother. His expression, “that which bestows great favors and also takes them away,” clearly reveals this perception. Even when the sea sometimes unleashes terrifying storms, bringing disaster upon humans, he accepts it as something unavoidable for the sea. Just as women are influenced by the moon, so too is the sea. Just as humans live by suckling the earth’s milk, they also live by consuming all manner of nourishment from the sea. If, like Santiago, one perceives the earth and sea as a benevolent mother, one’s attitude toward nature must inevitably change. Just as a child cannot treat its mother carelessly, so too can humans not treat nature carelessly. Acts that destroy nature are akin to incest, harming one’s mother, and ultimately, they are not vastly different from patricide, killing one’s mother. Among peoples who worship Earth Mother or Sea Mother deities, it is rare to find a culture that is not nature-friendly and ecological.
Meanwhile, contrasting with Santiago’s attitude are several young fishermen belonging to the new generation. Unlike Santiago, who lives in harmony and balance with nature, they do not call the sea ‘la mar’ but always regard it as male, calling it ‘el mar’. Even though they live in the same fishing village and fish in the same way, such a clear difference emerges in their attitude toward nature.
Among the young fishermen, some use buoys instead of floats on their lines and are the type who bought motorboats with the big money they made selling shark livers. They call the sea ‘El Mar’ and perceive it as a competitor, a workplace, and even an adversary. Unlike Santiago, who fishes the traditional way using lines, hooks, and bait, the young fishermen use floats to keep their lines afloat. They also buy motorboats with money earned from selling shark livers to go fishing. In short, they have abandoned traditional fishing methods and rely on modern fishing technology. Mechanized civilization has permeated even this small fishing village. As long as it allows them to catch fish more conveniently and easily, the young fishermen won’t hesitate to adopt any method.
The problem is that this difference isn’t merely about fishing methods. It represents a difference in worldview and attitude toward nature. As symbolized by buoys and motorboats, the younger generation of fishermen perceives nature as something to dominate, subjugate, and even exploit. Particularly noteworthy is how they refer to the sea in masculine terms, treating it like a “competitor, a workplace, or even an adversary.” This stands in stark contrast to Santiago’s perception of the sea as a benevolent mother who bestows “great bounty.” For Santiago, the sea may be a workplace, but it has never been a competitor, much less an adversary. Even the term ‘workplace’ carries different meanings for Santiago and the younger generation. For Santiago, it is the foundation of life, while for the younger generation, it is merely a space for pursuing profit.
In this sense, the young fishermen can rightly be seen as children of reason and rationality. They do not form a harmonious relationship with nature, nor do they show deep concern for nature’s creatures. To those who perceive humans and nature as opposing forces, humans are the subjects and nature merely the object. Nature is nothing more than an object to be dominated, conquered, and ultimately exploited. Civilization itself, strictly speaking, can be seen as the result of systematically dominating, conquering, and exploiting nature. The more sophisticated this domination, conquest, and exploitation become, the higher the purity of civilization is said to be. The young fishermen symbolize the generation that, under the banner of science and technology, has damaged and polluted nature, leading to the crisis humanity faces today.
In The Old Man and the Sea, Hemingway explores an ecological theme on another level. Observing Santiago’s grueling battle with the marlin, one might easily perceive this work as a story of man struggling against a hostile or indifferent, merciless nature. Indeed, American naturalist writers like Stephen Crane and Jack London have explored this theme in numerous works. However, Hemingway is distinctly different from these naturalist writers.
It is far more accurate to say this novel deals not with the struggle between man and nature, but rather with the relationship between man and nature, and the way humans live within nature. Unlike the younger generation of fishermen, Santiago does not perceive the human subject and nature as an object in an antagonistic relationship. To him, humans are ultimately part of nature; more scientifically speaking, they are simply precious members of the ecosystem. Humans and nature are inseparable, like the relationship between body and soul. Just as separating the body from the soul leads to death, humans lose their reason for existence the moment they are separated from nature.
Santiago holds deep interest and affection for all creatures living in the sea. Regardless of species or size, all sea animals are his dear friends and siblings born of the same mother. He regards flying fish and various other fish as dear friends, considering the flying fish especially his closest friend in the sea. He also pities the seabirds. He feels especially sorry for the small, fragile terns, always flying about searching for food yet gaining almost nothing. Santiago thinks, “Birds live a harder life than we humans,” and says, “Compared to such magnificent birds and beasts, man is not such a great creature.”
Santiago also considers the finches his friends. Seeing a finch that flew in from the north land on his fishing line and rest for a moment, he speaks to it affectionately, as if asking a child. “How old are you? Is this your first trip?” Seeing the bird clutching the line tightly with its slender toes, he says sympathetically, “The line is strong. Very strong indeed. There was no wind last night. You shouldn’t be so tired.”
Of course, exceptions exist here too. Santiago deeply dislikes the bell jellyfish, which floats like a bubble in the water, trapping prey with its long, purple, deadly tentacles dangling beneath it. Seeing this creature, he spits out, “Agua mala. You whore.” For though its exterior is beautiful like a rainbow, it harbors deadly poison within. Thus, he feels pleased when he sees a large sea turtle devouring a jellyfish, and he also enjoys the squelching sound he hears when stepping on jellyfish washed ashore after a storm.
Santiago feels deep compassion even for the marlin he catches. Unlike the younger generation of fishermen, he doesn’t see fish merely as enemies or competitors to be defeated. Though he kills it, he feels sorry for the marlin. He himself caught the tuna to satisfy his hunger, but the fact that the marlin has gone three days without eating while battling him makes him feel even more sorry for it. Santiago sometimes calls the marlin his ‘friend,’ and at other times his ‘brother.’ He says, “That fish is my friend, but I must kill it.” He also thinks, “Fish, you are killing me now,” yet adds, “But you have the right to do so.” He continues, “My brother, I have never seen a creature larger, more beautiful, or more calm and noble than you.” He even compares the marlin to a saint. The description, “Its eyes were detached, like the reflector of a periscope, like the eyes of a saint walking in a procession,” perfectly captures this.
So how should we understand Santiago’s actions, enduring all manner of sacrifice to catch this marlin? In a word, it is simply an act following nature’s laws and order. In nature, plants and animals live by eating and being eaten. This relationship is the fundamental principle sustaining the ecosystem. Humans cannot survive without killing fish. Humans eat the marlin to survive; the marlin eats smaller fish like mackerel or herring; the mackerel and herring feed on crustaceans like shrimp. The shrimp consume plankton like diatoms; the plankton, in turn, feed on phytoplankton. This is the food pyramid of the marine ecosystem. Santiago reflects, “Everything in this world kills something else in some way.” From the perspective of the food chain, even the shark tearing into the marlin Santiago caught is an utterly natural occurrence.
In the scene where he returns to port with the marlin tied to the bow, it’s hard to tell who is the fisherman and who is the fish. Despite mentioning the predator-prey relationship, in this scene, the two seem like a single, united entity. Santiago thinks, “Aren’t we sailing together like brothers now?” yet he says he can’t tell who is leading whom to port.
“Is the fish taking me, or am I taking the fish?” he wonders. If he were towing the fish, there would be no issue, but at this moment, fish and boat sail side by side, bound together. He even considers letting the fish take him if that is the case. He believes the marlin harbors no ill will toward him, that he is merely a little more cunning.
Santiago’s love and respect, akin to that for a brother, extends beyond the sea’s flora and fauna. He believes even inanimate objects like the stars, moon, and sun in the sky possess life. While fighting the marlin and gathering his thoughts, he says, “My mind is as clear as the stars, my brothers. But I must sleep. The stars sleep, and the moon and the sun sleep too. Even the vast sea sleeps on days when there is no wind.” His perception that the stars, moon, and sun—which could be seen as mere rocks—sleep like humans is profoundly striking. Santiago, who speaks to birds and perceives the stars, moon, and sun as living beings, brings to mind Saint Francis of Assisi, who lived in Assisi, Italy, during the 12th and 13th centuries. Saint Francis called not only the stars, moon, and sun, but also the wind, air, and clouds his brothers and sisters. In a sense, Santiago can be seen as a character possessing an even more developed ecological consciousness than Saint Francis.
Hemingway’s attitude toward nature is deeply connected to his sense of solidarity and interdependence among humans. His view of nature is precisely the extension of this perception of humanity into the natural world. By his final work, The Old Man and the Sea, Hemingway expands his gaze beyond human problems to encompass the problems of nature itself. The individualism evident in his early works, The Sun Also Rises and A Farewell to Arms, evolves into a sense of community through To Have and Have Not and For Whom the Bell Tolls, finally reaching a stage of awareness that encompasses all beings and species in the universe in The Old Man and the Sea. This work can be seen as the culmination point demonstrating how Hemingway’s literature expanded beyond a human-centered worldview to an ecological one.
