Essay 1: What is one’s true purpose in life?

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What is one’s true purpose in life? There are many questions that pop into my head while reading Moby-Dick by Herman Melville, and I can not help but wonder about this particular question: Is there a purpose in life? Or we just keep chasing one thing after another, like our lives depend on it. This novel not only gives me the confusion of the story and its characters, but it also makes me question the true purpose of life. I keep asking myself why on earth someone would be ready to throw away their precious lives just to hunt whales? And the question is obvious because hunting a whale is the golden ticket to heaven, because of the recognition and the admiration one desires that led them to this decision. In this novel, we are going on an adventure with our main character, Ishmael, as we explore the stories of the sea and its people. We are looking through the lens of Ishmael’s perspective, the novel prompts us with the question: Why does it have to be through Ishmael of all people? And to answer this question, it is particularly because just like Ishmael, readers are born with questions about things in life. In this case, the novel is teaching us how to look at things from a different perspective while interpreting their own ideology, thoughts, and feelings. While Ishmael’s identity is questionable, by looking from his and other captains’ perspectives, it points out the god-like nature that Captain Ahab retains, and through the hatred for white whales, revenge has blinded him to the point that he himself is so odd, bizarre, and god-like to the other whalemen.

Captain Ahab’s unpredictable nature is the reason why other captains and whalemen saw him as a god-like figure. Throughout the many chapters that we have read, there are a few points that I would like readers to ponder as we are going to deduce the meanings behind them. The first point came from the other captain’s perspective, where Captain Peleg states: “He’s a grand, ungodly, god-like man, Captain Ahab; doesn’t speak much; but, when he does speak, then you might as well listen. Mark ye, be forewarned; Ahab’s above the common; Ahab’s been in colleges, as well as ‘mong the cannibals; been used to deeper wonders than the waves; fixed his fiery lance in mightier, stranger foes than whales.” (Melville 88). This quote perfectly describes who Ahab is as a person. In Captain Peleg’s perspective, he is a strong man who has faced many challenges to get to where he is today. Ahab is knowledgeable about the whales; he is associated with the cannibals while going to college to gain more knowledge about the world. The way Peleg described him as an ‘ungodly, god-like man’ was a way to tell readers that Ahab did a lot of amazing things while he was one of the whalers. He believes everything Ahab did is impossible, which implies things only a god can do, yet Ahab is still a human being made out of flesh, which is why he is described that way. But while looking at this explanation, readers might wonder what amazing things Ahab did that made him a considerable god-like figure. It is when Captain Peleg told one of the stories to Ishmael, about how Ahab is: “a very vile one…that ever since he lost his leg last voyage by that accursed whale, he’s been kind of moody—desperate moody, and savage sometimes.” (Melville 89). This is the second point that I would like to make because readers can see that Ahab had fought a whale and was actually alive while losing his leg. Furthermore, Peleg adds in: “When that wicked king was slain, the dogs, did they not lick his blood?” (Melville 88). This proves how Ahab is essentially a god-like figure in Captain Peleg’s eyes because he slew a whale while he managed to keep himself alive. This connects with the metaphor of mysteriousness that Ahab offers because when we listen to this story, we can see a vivid image of Ahab standing with his back arched, and his missing leg oozing blood like a warrior who has just defeated an army, while the dogs act as his loyal pets that are following his orders and serving him dutifully. This explains why Ahab, his unpredictable nature, and his stories are so bizarre that people could not believe it until they actually saw it with their own eyes. It almost seems like he is not a real human being, but a deity who just happens to be slaying whales occasionally. 

Captain Ahab’s state of mind, his quietness, and composure match the energy of a warrior, which comes off as oddly strange to other people. When I read these chapters, one thing I noticed was that Ahab rarely speaks. He is so quiet that his actions are being read by people, and by Ishmael, who is excellent at reading him. The passage states: “Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab presided like a mute, maned sea-lion on the white coral beach, surrounded by his war-like but still deferential cubs. In his own proper turn, each officer waited to be served. They were as little children before Ahab, and yet, in Ahab, there seemed not to lurk the smallest social arrogance.” (Melville 162). I noticed how the officers are being compared to children, as it is the opposite of Ahab, whose energy is so strong and formidable that it terrifies the people in front of him, and it gives the officers the idea of not messing with Ahab because they also heard the bizarre stories that he once created. Perhaps readers might ask why nobody wants to speak to Ahab since he does not show any social arrogance to them? When we look at Ahab from many different perspectives, we are not afraid of him because we understand his characteristics as a human being. But on a realistic side, if we face Ahab directly in real life, like the officers in the passage, we can see that Ahab is an authoritative figure. He does not want to mess around with or be friendly with others. His job as a captain is to guide people well and to do his job. That explains why everyone seems to be uneasy in front of Ahab because only Ahab can do his job well and effectively. This connects to how Ahab is so odd to others because his presence is so terrifyingly strange that people just rather not talk to him at all.

Captain Ahab’s sense of revenge is the reason why he’s been acting odd to others. In chapter 36, the crew mentions Moby Dick as they refer to every white whale they see. However, Starbucks asks: “Captain Ahab, I have heard of Moby Dick—but it was not Moby Dick that took off thy leg?” (Melville 177). While Captain Ahab: “shouted with a terrific, loud, animal sob, like that of a heart-stricken moose; Aye, Aye! It was that accursed white whale that razeed me; made a poor pegging lubber of me forever and a day…and I’ll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom…And this is what ye have shipped for, men! to chase that white whale on both sides of land, and all over sides of earth, till he spouts black blood and rolls fin out.” (Melville 177). This passage is one of my favorites because we are now diving into Ahab’s emotions. There is this strong hatred that Captain Ahab has harbored for a long time, ever since one of the white whales took away his leg. This explains why Captain Ahab always seems to detach from people. He isolated himself from others because his thoughts were too occupied with the white whales, and that pushed him further down to the deep sea, a place where he is just alone, a place where he can be busy with thoughts and emotions. In class, we also talked about how Ahab is on the verge of extinction because there is no one like him. He is his own version, and no one could ever imitate that.Not only does this novel teach us how to understand the characters to the fullest extent, but it also teaches us to know the realistic side of the whalemen who once hunted whales. The novel reveals the mysteriousness that the people and the sea offer while it feeds us with curiosity for us to engage with the meanings behind it, to know what it feels like to be in the position of a whale man. Moby Dick is not just a story of hunting whales; it is a story about humanity, a story of the anatomy of a whale, a story of the ship and the sea. Everything we see in the novel has its own story that will continue to expand infinitely. As we are halfway through the novel, one takeaway for me is to expect the unexpected. There will always be something to learn in this novel, and I hope I will be able to understand all of the meanings that Melville offers.

Essay 1: The Stuff of Kings and Queens

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In Chapter 25 ‘Post Script’, Ishamel argues for the imperial status of his career “Think of that, ye loyal Britons! we whaleman supply your kings and queens with coronation stuff!” In this scene, the suppliers are the essential component to ensure the hierarchy of England survives onto its next leader, calling the attention of the loyalists to truly understand the necessity and distinction of the whaleman in sustaining the empire. In this empire, the capturing and commodification of the whale mirrors an essential scene of colonialism; that is the capture, sale and murder of Africans and Indigenous peoples throughout the world for growth and propagation of empires. In taking the whaleman all the way up to the kings and queens of England, where once the sun never set on its empire, Melville makes this connection of whaling to a larger context of colonial superpowers exploiting lands (oceans) and bodies (whales) that are not their own for the capital gain of kings and queens, individuals who will never step foot on both whaleships or slave ships. The whaler represents the systems (racism, capitalism, colonialism) that kept empires such as England and eventually the United States thriving at the expense of brown and black bodies. In a more modern context, the whaleman is a system of institutional and ideological barriers that warrant the economic disparity between the people (whales) and 1% (kings and queens). The whales are the stuff that ensure a coronation takes place, but not without the whaleman delivering.

The whaleman represents many different ideas throughout the novel, but Chapter 25 captures the whaleman in a specific light, one of pride in his position in the civilized world. The whaleman is an individual who sees his work as important to those he will never meet or even live similarly to, that is the kings and queens. The whaleman and the king live on different ends of the economic spectrum, yet without the whaleman there is no coronation, no assurance of his reign and thus system surviving. Whaling is not for the benefit of the whaler, he may have little economic gain but it is nothing compared to the gain of the larger empire. Whaling is impossible with just a single individual, it takes many individuals to be convinced that their position is prideful for the system of whaling to be a successful one. Ishamel is prideful in his declaration and asserts his identity to the system of whaling through the use of ‘ye’ and ‘we’, ‘we’ becomes the larger, shared identity of the whaler and ‘ye’ is everyone else, including the reader. Through this shared identity of whaling and separation from those who do not, Ishamel exemplifies the ways in which exploitative systems survive beyond the benefit of the individual. The ‘individual’ whaler whose labor upholds the industry is being sold this idea of pride in the system where the economic disparity between him and the king is immense, seeing himself as being less close to the loyal Britons than the King on his coronation day, for it was him that supplied the stuff and not those Britons. Through this intentional contrast, Melville highlights how in oppressive systems the illusion and pride of individuality is sold to the masses to separate them from one another, rather selling them the possibility of being closer to wealth than reality. The reality is that the whaler has more in common with the loyal Briton than the king on his coronation day. 

Another aspect of whaling asks that whales are captured and stripped for parts in their own home, parts that are used by kings and queens as well as dispersed throughout the ‘civilized’ world to those who can afford its product. Through the similar ideology and imagery, whaling mirrors the events that precede and continuously trail a colonial superpower, that is events of mass murder, slavery and exploitation of both body and land. The whaleman is who captures, murders and sells the whale, the whaleman is who feeds the empire through his violence. The whaleman is an ideology of racism, capitalism and colonialism. In deeming the whale an evil creature, in othering the whale into something completely alien rather than a being deserving of dignity, the whaleman leaps past the barrier of empathy that makes violence difficult to enact. Empires, and the actual people who crossed the oceans seeking to exploit, must deem the people and lands alien in the same sense the whaler does to the whale. The Africans and Indigenous are othered in order to capture their bodies and their homes, Melville’s whale is a microcosm of this ideology and history. The whaler also seeks economic gain, selling the whale over and over again, its body becoming an economic concept rather than a part of the natural world. The whale cannot be understood, or ignorantly believed to be, by the whaler. The whale is translated in strictly economic terms. In Ishamel’s defense, the whale is even sold to the king and queen, for it is used in the passing on of kingdomhood, keeping the exploitative system untouched. 

Melville picks at the concept of a colonial empire through exemplifying one of the most famous in Chapter 25. Colonial empires cannot be built without racism and the exploitation of indigenous peoples and lands. The ideology of the whaleman is the core of colonial empires, and the whaleman is who supplies the product for the coronation of the kings and queens. While Ishmael explains many reasons why he is prideful in his occupation, there is a double entendre to his statement in Chapter 25 that Melville pokes at. The whaler has the ideology necessary to live in a system that capitalizes, murders and exploits bodies, ranging from human to whale. The whaler upholds his position himself through a delusion of pride, pride that it is him that supplies for the coronation, that it is him who upholds the colonial empire that exploits him too without him realizing. In this sense, Melville critiques the colonial empire for not only its actions abroad but those at home. The colonial empire sells a belief, one that countless whalers buy to be able to function in the empire. 

Chapter 44: The Chart

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In chapter 44, Ishmael explains on how obsessed Captain Ahab has become on planning his hunt for Moby Dick. Melville writes,” God help thee, old man, thy thoughts have created a creature in thee; and whose intense thinking thus makes him a Prometheus; a vulture feeds upon that heart for ever; that vulture the very creature he creates”,(220), in this passage Melville explores how obsession can transform the human mind into its own tormentor and how easy it is to loose yourself to madness when the thoughts come to deeply to torment the human mind. He transforms Ahab has a victim and the creator of his own madness. The phrase,” God help thee” is recognizing that Ahab is suffering and no one can save him, but Him. When he says the “creature” it represents the madness being born inside of him from his obsession with Moby Dick, while comparing him to Prometheus due to both being defiant and both being punished for not fulfilling their duties. Melville uses imagery to to warn us, the audience, about the conception of madness of the human mind, becoming to much of a delusion of something we can’t let go.

I recently read Terry Eagleton’s, “Literary Theory: An Introduction,” in one of his chapter, psychoanalysis, Eagleton discusses that psychoanalysis views that humans are driven by unconscious desires and compulsions that they don’t comprehend, which comes as a clear example: Ahab’s obsession with Moby Dick.

Lost In Thoughts All Alone

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Romanticism has been a key theme and subject within American classics for roughly two-hundred years now. As a literary, artistic, and intellectual movement, it promotes the basis of exploring human thoughts on nature, emotion, individualism, and the depths of the imagination. This movement had occurred as a response to the Age of Enlightenment, alongside mass industrialization. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick is one key staple within the American literary canon, and is an example that explores a potentially darker side to Romanticism through his characters upon the Pequod, most notably the narrator Ishmael. Chapter 35 has Ishmael diving into the experience of being upon the Mast Head, and the way it impacts sailors. With the use of “you” and intense imagery, Ishmael describes his perspective on taking a high position above the sea atop the Pequod. As the audience designated narrator of the novel, his thought process attacks his own character and is highly philosophical. Melville here is documenting the romantic movement through Ishmael as a way to demonstrate humanity’s innate pull towards it.

Ishmael as our narrator describes, “There you stand, a hundred feet above the silent decks, striding along the deep, as if the masts were gigantic stilts, while beneath you and between your legs, as it were, swim the hugest monsters of the sea, even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous colossus at old Rhodes. There you stand lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor.” (169) Not only does this promote the image of imagining ourself upon the ship alongside him, but the idle yet active task on being above the mast head sounds just as boring as the languor Ishmael mentions. It is reflective of how romanticism is viewed, and how natural it comes to Ishmael. Melville shows how merely being surrounded by nature in and on its own drags this pensive and provocative emotion out of the narrator. He himself states how he is not focused on his job of spotting whales, breaking a bit of a fourth wall to describe how he is in the midst of daydreaming to give the readers a means of envisioning how all encompassing the sea is. There is a calm that lulls him, the “languor” and the rocking sensation of the ship take over his rational senses to scout for Moby-Dick.  

Ishmael chooses to over complicate how he falls into this philosophical bout of romantic feelings. Humanizing and characterizing the inanimate objects around him, such as the Pequod itself, is a means for Ishmael to connect to a larger perspective. The ship is mostly subject to this phenomenon, as it is the only thing that keeps Ishmael relatively grounded and terrestrial on a sea that refuses to remain the same. He has to be attached to what keeps him afloat, even saying how “The tranced ship indolently rolls…” (169) The ship has become tranced and hypnotized by the ocean, not Ishmael until he climbs up for his shift upon the mast-head. Connecting to the Pequod drags him into his own thoughts. This vast ocean of “the hugest monsters of the sea,” (169) this large blue mystery that houses the very thing that will pay him for his trouble, it is all he can see or talk about within this chapter dedicated solely to the mast-head. Melville here implies within this passage that Ishmael is being pushed into a state of reflection, rather than specifically choosing to reach into the depths of his mind on his own. It is indicative of a darker side to romanticism, but nonetheless does it break down Ishmael’s defenses on the job as he is “resolved into languor.” (169)

Melville’s language throughout Moby Dick holds purpose in the chapter it serves. Ishmael’s words within chapter 35 read as deeply rooted in mythology itself, “even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous colossus at old Rhodes…” (169) This is a common trend within romanticism, in which the movement utilizes mythology to explore the wonders of the imagination. Working alongside the metaphor of “as if the masts were gigantic stilts…” (169) readers connect the idea of being a colossus, a tall statue that matches, or even surpasses the height of the mast-head Ishmael stands upon. While the statue itself no longer stands in its original location thanks to an earthquake, it puts readers into picturing sailing under its massive size. Even if the mast-head proves to be a high location in which someone is able to look down at the sea as nothing but a spectator, the position on the Pequod lulls the individual to view the sea in a romantic lens. Just as the colossus at old Rhodes stares off at the same scene everyday, Ishmael similarly can only see the grand ocean. 

Addressing the readers, “There you stand lost in the infinite series of the sea…” (169) is an honest viewpoint to how romanticism focuses on individualism as well. Readers are capable of being solitary within the situation presented upon the Pequod. While being in Ishmael’s shoes, there is a dreadful and dull sense of loneliness atop the mast-head. Even if he is not necessarily alone on the ship, he is expressing the individual thought that criticizes his capability to do his job properly. An individual perspective allows for both imperfection and flaws, something wholly human while in the expanse of nature. 

With the romantic movement having been a response and product of fast industrialization, it is no surprise that it was killing whaling as a business. Even though whaling had been considered a first within American trade, the introduction of new fuel sources had begun to make it all obsolete. Industrialization itself had drawn people away from nature, away from the ocean, away and off of the Pequod in the search for Moby-Dick. Romanticism puts a clear yet muddled focus upon the natural world, emotion winning over reason. As the novel’s narrator, Ishmael himself is a flawed yet observant person. “The Mast-Head” as a chapter demonstrates the lack of excitement for any sailor who would find himself paralyzingly high. Using religious, mythological, and natural allegories, Ishmael is Melville’s direct conduit into what readers can analyze as romanticism. Moreover, the crew of the Pequod eventually show a much darker side of the movement. Whether or not it is a central key theme to Moby Dick, it is unmistakably shown through the language describing the sea.

“Yea, foolish mortals, Noah’s flood is not yet subsided; two thirds of the fair world it yet covers”

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I can finally talk about Chapter 58 “Brit”. I’ve been thinking about this chapter since I read Moby Dick for the first time two years ago, I feel it encapsulates the whole “nature is inevitable/unconquerable” aspect. I’ll try not to quote the entire chapter:

“however baby man may brag of his science and skill, and however much, in a flattering future, that science and skill may augment; yet for ever and for ever, to the crack of doom, the sea will insult and murder him, and pulverize the stateliest, stiffest frigate he can make…

That same ocean rolls now; that same ocean destroyed the wrecked ships of last year…

But not only is the sea such a foe to man who is an alien to it, but it is also a fiend to its own offspring; worse than the Persian host who murdered his own guests; sparing not the creatures which itself hath spawned…

Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes… Consider, once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began…

do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!” (298-299).

Where do I start? baby man may brag of his endless technological advancement, but he will never be able to escape the insulting, murderous, and pulverizing nature of the sea. No matter how hard we try to make the strongest frigate (a type of warship) the sea will always overbear it. We cannot conquer the sea or nature, perhaps even the whale? Ahab can enhance himself with a new leg, a new crew one and all with his goal, a new harpoon, a new whatever, and it will not ever be enough to conquer Moby Dick.

This eternal sea is the same as Noah’s flood, it will never go away and we cannot run away or hide from it forever; we already know we cannot rule it. The ocean is in itself a ferocious yet sublime living thing. It is a fiend to both alien and its own children, it keeps “its most dreaded creatures… treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure”. Like the whiteness of the whale, it is both reassuring/good in nature (at least according to our own perceptions) and terror inducing. It transcends a definitive description, it is neither black or white, good or evil, right or wrong; it is life: a chaotic jumble of everything ranging between the dichotomy we humans love to apply to everything.

In the closing passage of this chapter, Melville prompts us to compare these features of the ocean to ourselves. We are surrounded by the “appalling ocean” that is life, and we retreat into our insular Tahiti, holding onto the peace and joy of remaining ignorant and secure in isolation. Though he says “God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!”, I don’t think its meant to be taken literally; he is not suggesting that we stay isolated on our Tahiti despite the horrors of the half known life because that would go against what he is doing. He has fled from his own insular Tahiti in breaking down the the perception he once had of his now beloved “savage” Queequeg, and he constantly questions the preconceived notions he’s had of Christianity, the whiteness of the whale, the ocean itself. “Thou canst never return!” but would he really want to return to the suicidal ideation of his life on land.

One last note, this final passage reminds me of a quote from Dracula: “I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!” It has the same kind of desire to remain ignorant and hold onto some semblance of happiness when in this sea of wonder. Ultimately, Jonathan Harker would’ve fallen victim had he chosen to remain ignorant of the truth, in the same way Ishmael would’ve likely left this mortal plane if he had not pushed off of his own insular Tahiti.

Essay 1

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Herman Melville’s multicultural crew of the Pequod is often read as an allegory for the culturally diverse melting pot that is the United States of America. If anything is to be deemed an accurate representation of our nation, it’s bound to include the same types of inequalities that have plagued our entire historical record; Moby Dick excels in this portrayal. In presenting the crew of the Pequod through a medieval caste in “Knights and Squires”, Melville highlights the hierarchical system of whale ships to expose the inequity of systems rooted in America.

The shared title of Chapter 26 and Chapter 27, “Knights and Squires”, already plants this idea of separation between the knight and their attending squire. The mates Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask, white men from Nantucket, Cape Cod, and Tisbury, assume the position of knight. Each of these knights has under them a squire, the “savages” Queequeg, Tashtego, and Daggoo, all more physically capable and reliable as the main support to their commanding officers. Despite the camaraderie needed to properly function in this violent and vital industry, this distinction between the leading white men and their subordinates denies them equal status.

This dynamic extends to the rest of the unnamed crew and many other American industries as well:  

“As for the residue of the Pequod’s company, be it said, that at the present day not one in two of the many thousand men before the mast employed in the American whale fishery, are Americans born, though pretty nearly all the officers are. Herein it is the same with the American whale fishery as with the American army and military and merchant navies, and the engineering forces employed in the construction of the American Canals and Railroads. The same, I say, because in all these cases the native American liberally provides the brains, the rest of the world as generously supplying the muscles” (Melville 131).

This is a very important aspect for Melville to give emphasis to, reminding us who it was that labored the most in the founding of our country. Though “not one in two of the many thousand men” in the whaling industry were born in America, in other words immigrants, most of them never received the title of officer nor the benefits aligned with someone who put in the most effort. In the specific case of the Pequod, we are never given the names of a majority of the crew who keep the ship operating; they don’t receive the focus that is given to their king Ahab, his knights Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask, and even their squires Queequeg, Tashtego, and Daggoo. At the bottom of the ladder, most of them do not receive proper recognition despite their importance in maintaining the ship, akin to the enslaved of 1850s America, unrecognized as humans to the highest degree, stripped of their rights, yet expected to provide the labor needed to maintain the growth of the nation.  

It isn’t enough for Melville to just point out this disparity in the whaling industry, as he directly cites the same structure in the “American army and military and merchant navies, and the engineering forces employed in the construction of the American Canals and Railroads”. These foundational industries that served to protect and expand the American nation ran off of the same design that let the mass contributors go unnoticed and unappreciated while the ones in charge received all of the attention and glory. Despite the majority of employees in these industries being immigrants, they were used in service of further increasing the white man’s position with the conquering of Mexican land and expansion towards the West. They were the ones that made it possible, but the end goal was never in favor of them.   

If the power dynamic wasn’t clear enough, Melville then uses language very effectively to show who is respected and who is not: “in all these cases the native American liberally provides the brains, the rest of the world as generously supplying the muscles”. In deliberately leaving native uncapitalized, Melville directly shows us the replacement of the Native American by the white man, claiming the term for themselves. Liberally is another interesting choice of word here because, though it could be read as the “native American” providing the brains out of generosity, the more likely application is that it is a loose assumption that they should be the ones to provide the brains. This is due to the immediate use of generously in reference to the supply of muscles that is the “rest of the world”. Read in this way, Melville brings to question the legitimacy of the white man as the brains and everyone else as the muscle to challenge the structures of the American whaling industry, army, navy, and the Canal and Railroad construction companies.

All of this culminates in the fact that the industries imperative to the growth of our nation were established with hierarchical systems that placed one group, the white man, above the rest who were not even deemed worthy of recognition. In the context of 1850s America, specifically in the increased national attention towards slavery and the continued westward expansion, Melville draws attention to the structures behind the categorization of humans as more or less and breaks down the reasoning of these systems to show how unreliable they are. Why should the native American receive the title of knight and officer while the Native American who does most of the work is just the squire? Is the rest of the world, who so generously supply the muscles, denied recognition simply because they’re not American born, despite that being the groundwork of our nation?

While a chain of command is a necessity to keep a ship running properly, the discriminatory design prevents the equal treatment of everyone on the ship. From our country’s inception to the present, this established hierarchy has been used by those in power to ignore and vilify the ones before the mast, the ones that keep our nation afloat.  

Flask and Daggoo sitting in a tree…

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At last, we have found whales within the deep! Chapter 48 sees the introduction of a few new characters, such as the individuals acting as Ahab’s contingency plan against mutiny, as well as a first look at what whaling entails for the crew. Nathaniel Philbrick’s comment about how Moby-Dick could allow aliens to understand 1800’s whaling makes sense, at last!

I feel the need to make a point that it is very clear that Ishmael has a type – first his loving descriptions of Queequeg, then the way that he described Daggoo and Flask on the whaling ship:

“But the sight of little Flask mounted upon the gigantic Daggoo was yet more curious; for sustaining himself with a cool, indifferent, easy, unthought of, barbaric majesty, the noble negro to every roll of the sea harmoniously rolled his fine form. On his broad back, the flaxen-haired Flask seemed a snow-flake. The bearer looked nobler than the rider. Though, truly, vivacious, tumultuous, ostentatious little Flask would now and then stamp with impatience; but not one added heave did he thereby give to the negro’s lordly chest. So I have seen Passion and Vanity stamping the living magnanimous earth, but the earth did not alter her tides and her seasons for that.” (241)

While Flask is described as one might describe a princess or a child – impatient, little, ostentatious – Daggoo is described with words synonymous with nobility – indifferent, lordly, majesty, noble. While Flask is the leader of the boat, the one that is urging the men and calling the shots, Daggoo is painted as the reliable, quick thinking, and sturdy man that ensures it continues.

It seems that any moment we meet a new character with darker skin, we find ourselves given an in-depth description of the way that they carry themselves and the continence of their brow. Yet many of the cast that are white or in power remain faceless within the crew of the Pequod, save Ahab. This reinforces the narrative that Melville was presenting us – that whiteness is absence, that the war that was building at the time was senseless, and that slavery exists for little men to feel as though they have power beyond themselves.

Essay #1: The Art of Systemic Injustice and the Perpetual Victim

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Moby Dick, written by Herman Melville, calls out how capitalism and greed have dominated the understanding of the social dynamic in hierarchy. Ishmael, an avid whaler, explains the underestimation of the hefty whaling industry that largely generates the economy and monarchy, deeming whalers to be a part of royalty as well. However, like the Pequod, the social hierarchy ladder is not streamlined and is unresolved. With this narrative, Melville challenges the conventional standards of seeing the capitalistic realm through a two-dimensional structure, revealing that even the monarchs are not a stranger to socioeconomic manipulation within their regime. This in itself, changes the manner in which we as readers were meant to view the social ladder, with whalers to royalty, as something beneficial for generating the economy. This symbolic alliance is now tainted with a hierarchy that upholds nuance and censorship, tricking people into seeking individuality and romanticization, in an effort to hide corrupt, social ideological framing. 

Chapter 25 depicts the social ladder in this way; it is not just looking from a lens of good and evil. As the author here cleverly paints the situation in an extensive scale, the depiction thematically aligns with addressing the scale of the colossal Pequod as withstanding, yet having intellectual gaps of socio-economic diversity and complexity tied onto the ship. The social order is not only corrupt but also becomes perilously systemic. At the same time, Ishmael is oblivious to this danger that clearly deludes him into seeking status in tandem with royalty as he overlooks the gap of acknowledging what exactly then controls the monarch’s autonomy. Through the lens and testimony of a perpetual victim, this passage seeks to expose the clear systemic injustice within the capitalistic hiearchy.

After giving praise for the whaling industry over the years through record and analogy, Ishmael interestingly gives readers an ‘afterscript’, almost as if to let us re-evaluate our knowledge of how devastating the downfall of the social system is at that time. He instigates that,

“… at the coronation of kings and queens, even modern ones, a certain curious process of seasoning … for their functions is gone through…Can it be…that they anoint[salt]…its interior[to run well]…as they anoint machinery? Much might be ruminated here, concerning the essential dignity of this regal process, … in common life we esteem but meanly and contemptibly a fellow who anoints his hair…In truth, a mature man who uses hair oil medicinally… has probably got a quoggy spot in him somewhere. As a general rule, he can’t amount much to his totality ”(Melville 123). 

First, we are prompted to see how the dedicated use of oil is a discussion on uncanny vanity and brainwashing. The coronation of kings and queens is brought up to strike particular skepticism about succession and hierarchical rule that he sums up in an analogy. The use of subtlety and ambiguity to decode the “certain curious process” reveals the nature of censorship seeping within the social hierarchy. While the character may speak to the coronation’s formalities in general, Ishmael rather speculates that the meticulous tradition’s intentionality has more to do with implications of conditioning besides a one-time celebration, such as christening or crowning a ruler. The text’s hyperfixation to social conditioning can be seen where Ishmael gives an analogy of anointing one’s hair as well. From the line, he directs our attention to one anointing his head with oil as respectable in public appearances, but then backtracks this oustide view by indicating that routinal use of the oil, especially as an already ‘mature’ individual, articulates a need for conceivable, vain perfection that is nowhere near reality. Ishmael uses ‘mature’ to encapsulate how uncanny and unsettling this routinal use transforms into. Instead of attempting to abide by the laws, one now creates fantasy laws that fit an ideological idea of orderly and flawless. This vanity towards perfection evidently calls out social, ideological narratives in the nation. Introspectively, this analogy critically exposes how imperialist narratives and social propaganda are formed under a vain, dictated regime that discriminates and exploits, instead of performing ethical, governing responsibilities that affect the nation-state and its people within the social caste system. Two things are then subsequently seen: cultural exploitation and erasure of a foreign concept then further objectification and fetishization.

With this dehumanizing feauture, the author indirectly distinguishes between the  “oil” from whalers and the “salt” used as a medium to season– control– the monarchs. The use of “oil” and “salt” in the sentence serves to dehumanize the people into their roles, instead of seeing them as human beings. This imagery and representation of seasoning also inadvertently works to signal, with that control, a warning of systematic censorship and liminal space that Ishmael wonders about. Indication of two distinct control systems in the social ladder, instead of one streamlined system, adds depth to the worldbuilding behind the capitalist hierarchy we as readers thought we knew about. The clever contrast between these two ‘seasonings’ that ‘anoint’–control– the person shows us that our functions play down to collectively creating social propaganda that discriminates and erases culture. 

In the same vein, dehumanized imagery is present to also add layers to the meditated alienation the benefitted recipients feel, however advantaged or not. As a result of this alienation, the privileged class point fingers at the minorities. In another light, one can turn against their own community and blame their counterparts, rather than seeing the downfall from the start. Ishmael is acknowledgeable about the origin of the oil, but cannot recall the origin of ‘salt’ used to control the monarchs, indicating that there is a gap in information that becomes treacherous. Here, the author now clearly lays out the groundwork of systemic injustice that is a domino effect amongst other possible disadvantaged groups, not just a linear capitalist hierarchy, or a good versus evil side. In other words, with this empty feeling of alienation due to dehumanization, we are inclined to project discrimination onto our own community that makes the nation collapse. 

From looking at the unfortunate effects of dehumanization and projecting this insecurity onto others, the chapter uses this to convey the passage of time and its importance in constructing the ‘regal curious process’ as ancient and practiced. It is known that whales are powerful common symbolic representations to the whalers and sovereignty, but what about what is considered the ‘modern ones’ apart from the ancient ones in the novel then? Even though the text does not adhere to a certain time period, the implied passage of time puts into perspective how the social hierarchy reinforces ideological narratives that are practiced and traditional throughout time, making the manipulative process to be universally cherished, instead of being seen as long-term conditioning; and for this reason alone is it hard to eradicate systemic social narratives that have been generationally learnt, as we are wired to be dependent on ‘tried and true’ symbols that define our infrastructure today. 

Lastly, as conditioning takes over, one is encouraged to push for their false individual liberation in advertisement to dismiss the systemic issue. Ironically, his romanticization of whalers as part of nobility ties back down to the illusion of social status and approval that he tries to steer away from, while simultaneously trying to expose the systemic injustice in society himself. The last sentence then transforms into Ishmael wrestling with the question of ‘how one cannot amount to much in his totality’ because of the social conditioning rooted deeply into the fabric of society. Though Ishmael is cognizant of the fact that we are trapped to become mere parts in a machine, the irony is when he tries to find external validation and credit in the whaling industry. To readers, it becomes clear that irony is portrayed so as to illustrate the hazardous, long-side effects of manipulation within a social construct; Ishmael is blinded and brainwashed by artificial identity in whaling. Instead of becoming a secure nationwide alliance, the connection actually becomes a threat to the common working class because of the advantaged group’s desire to maintain the social divide, glued together by propaganda in public spaces. While Ishmael calls the audience to “look here”, Melville calls readers to look at Ishmael’s lack of awareness in light of him being a perpetual, enticed victim to the social climbing. As a result, community solidarity is squashed by individualized romanticization. 

It is presented that systemic issues start with conceivable, vain constructs that pervade the nation by a strong powerhouse in the social ladder. With this, social narratives start to become practiced then foundational throughout society, shifting our working class perspectives to normalize social discrimination and dehumanization in public spaces; and because these ideologies are traditional, the framework becomes easy to manipulate as something good and beneficial for the economy. The text exposes how calculated the systemic injustice is by instigating two mediums of control that trickle down the social ladder, making it harder to resolve or bring to light the societal issue at hand. As a result of this learnt notion to dehumanize, we end up projecting alienation onto others that ends up hurting instead of helping our trajectory towards human individuality in the nation. His dismissal is a foreshadowing of what might happen if we dismiss the need to educate ourselves about the socio-economic state of the world to the point of illusioned escapism and toxic individuality that tears us down. Even through all the deep contemplation about the systemic injustice Ishmael reveals, the last sentence turns into an actual doomed read of Ishmael’s critical symptoms due to the altering affects of systemic injustice.

What I Know Will Kill me

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A third of the way through Moby Dick, Herman Melville pauses to admit that human understanding, like the sea, will never be complete. Through his self-reflexive gesture, he reveals how the novel’s structure and language embody the same instability and depth as the sea it describes. When he compares his own writing to the unfinished cathedral of Cologne, the moment feels like a statement of purpose. Melville accepts that both human understanding and whaling exist in constant motion, always in draft form, never fully knowable. By leaving his “copestone to posterity,” (157) he invites readers to see incompleteness not as failure but as truth: that the search for meaning, like the ocean itself, has no end. 

Throughout Moby Dick, the sea represents both the vastness of human curiosity and the futility of fully understanding it, setting the stage for Melville’s later reflections on unfinished knowledge. In fact its the lack of answers and mysteries that initially draw Ishmael—and Melville— to the expedition. There’s a moment in chapter thirty-two when Melville steps out from behind the page to address the reader directly: “Finally: It was stated at the outset, that this system would not be here, and at once, perfected. You cannot but plainly see that I have kept my word. But I now leave my cetological System standing thus unfinished, even as the great Cathedral of Cologne was left, with the crane still standing upon the top of the uncompleted tower. For small erections may be finished by their first architects; grand ones, true ones, ever leave the copestone to posterity. God keep me from ever completing anything. This whole book is but a draught—nay, but the draught of a draught” (157). Ishmael admits that his attempt to classify whales, to make some order out of the ocean’s chaos, isn’t working. He compares his effort to the unfinished cathedral of Cologne, and suddenly the novel feels less like a polished epic and more like a living process. It’s as if Melville is saying, of course it’s unfinished; how could it not be? The metaphor elevates incompleteness into a kind of artistic pursuit: just as great architecture outlives its architects, ideas outgrow their initial parameters. 

Subsequently, this embrace of incompleteness becomes a philosophy. To understand the sea is to accept that total comprehension is impossible. Rather than offering mastery, Melville offers humility and ambition. By calling his work “a draught of a draught,” he knows that what he’s doing is incomplete, but he also knows that incompleteness is the only honest way to write about something as vast as the ocean, or even existence itself. In this manner Melville reveals a deeper awareness of what it means to categorize something as ungraspable as the sea and whaling. Every attempt to name, chart, or dissect ends up reflecting human limitation rather than mastery. By his declaration, truth and understanding has no endpoint, the truth lies in the pursuit. His prayer, “God keep me from ever completing anything,” isn’t a failure of discipline; its a longing. Melville’s moment of self-awareness acknowledges that even his grand novel cannot contain its subject; it can only gesture toward it. In that way, the passage becomes a confession and a creative manifesto all at once: to write about the sea is to chase something that cannot be caught, and the beauty lies in the chase itself. 

The admission of failure on Melville’s part is the genesis of his ‘openness’ philosophy. His embrace of the unfinished suggests that meaning is not something waiting at the end of a journey but something that emerges through the act of searching. His expedition, whaling in the sea, becomes a metaphor for that process; it mirrors the constant evolution of thought, interpretation and identity. Ishmael does not seek to master the ocean but to sail it. Accepting that uncertainty it the most honest form of understanding. In celebrating the unfinished, Melville changes the reader’s desire for closure and clarity. Instead he invites us to value incompleteness as a space of possibility. A subtle reminder that knowledge, like the sea, is always in motion. Every attempt to pin down meaning gives way to another wave of interpretation. 

Melville’s “draught of a draught” captures more than a writer’s frustration; it captures the credo of Moby Dick itself. By refusing to finish his “system,” Melville refuses the illusion that any work of art or thought can ever be complete. This refusal may seem radical, especially in a world, like our own, that values certainty and resolution. Through incompleteness, Melville preserves evolution, his book remains capable of change. The reader, like Ishmael, is left drifting but not lost. We come to see that being “at sea” is not a condition to escape but one to embrace. Melville’s ocean, and his novel, is reminding us that life’s deepest meanings are like grand buildings, a “copestone to posterity.”