Introduction
The wind howled, a guttural symphony mirroring the chaos brewing within. Shadows danced, stretching and contorting the familiar into something alien. The fire crackled, casting an unsteady glow upon faces transformed. They were no longer the people they once were, governed by laws, reason, and the rigid structures of society. Something had shifted, a primal tide pulling them towards the edge, a place where the constraints dissolved, and instinct reigned supreme. “It do not matter turn to a savage,” the words echo, a pronouncement of a truth often whispered in the dark corners of the human psyche. But what does this phrase truly mean? Does it signify freedom, a descent, or something far more complicated? This article delves into the core of this query, examining the supposed significance, or lack thereof, in abandoning civilization for a state of perceived savagery.
The question isn’t a new one. Humanity has grappled with the tension between its “civilized” self and the echoes of its raw, untamed origins for centuries. It’s a narrative woven into countless myths, legends, and cautionary tales. From ancient Greek tragedies that show the destructive force of unchecked passions, to modern-day survival stories, the idea of “turning savage” is used again and again. Often, it’s painted as a catastrophic fall from grace, a loss of all that makes us human. But is that the complete picture? Does it truly “matter” to shift from the carefully constructed persona of a member of society to the basic, instinctive drive?
Defining Savagery
“Savage” is a powerful and loaded word, steeped in historical baggage. It often conjures images of the uncouth, the cruel, the ignorant, and the undisciplined. It’s a term heavily influenced by the perspectives of those who define themselves as “civilized” – those who see themselves as superior, educated, and possessing moral codes. Consider the historical context of European colonialism, for instance, where indigenous populations were often labeled as savages, their cultures and practices dismissed as primitive and inferior. Such framing allows justification for colonization, exploitation, and outright destruction. This perspective positions “savagery” as a negative deviation, something to be feared and avoided at all costs. It is often equated with violence, chaos, and a lack of empathy.
Yet, the very act of labeling others “savage” often reveals more about the labeler than the labeled. It’s a way of establishing boundaries, creating an “us versus them” dynamic that allows for the dehumanization of the “other.” It’s a strategy of projecting fear and insecurity onto those perceived as different or threatening. The “civilized” constructs its identity by contrasting itself against the imagined “savage,” thereby claiming moral and intellectual superiority. The issue, however, lies in the false division that it produces.
The Fear of Primal Instincts
The common fears associated with a descent into savagery are understandable. The erosion of societal structures, the loss of personal control, the potential for widespread violence and moral decay – these are legitimate concerns. We are, after all, social creatures, dependent on cooperation and established rules to function effectively. When those structures crumble, the potential for chaos increases. But does this inherent risk negate the possibility, or even the perceived appeal, of acting on more primal urges? Does it erase the significance of what we truly are?
Let’s challenge the idea of a clear-cut separation between the civilized and the savage. Are they truly distinct categories, or are they merely different points on a spectrum of human behavior? Is it possible to simultaneously be both, to possess a capacity for both rational thought and raw instinct? The reality is probably that all humans can express both. Civilization may suppress these urges, but it doesn’t eradicate them. They remain, simmering beneath the surface, ready to be ignited by circumstance, trauma, or necessity. To define humans as either savage or civilized would be to simplify humanity far too much, denying its inherent complexity and capacity for both great good and profound evil.
Context and Perspective
Consider, too, that our perception of what “matters” is deeply influenced by context. What is considered acceptable behavior in one culture might be deemed barbaric in another. What is deemed “savage” in a modern urban environment could be a matter of survival in the wilderness. Consider a scenario where society collapses. Suddenly, skills once considered crude – hunting, foraging, building shelter – become essential for survival, potentially rendering the “civilized” less capable than the individual capable of quickly adapting to the new realities. Does this adaptation then constitute a moral failing? Or does it demonstrate the innate ability of humans to adapt, overcome and survive?
Philosophical Implications
This takes us to the philosophical core of this discussion. Existentialism offers a compelling framework for understanding the seeming irrelevance of the “savage” or “civilized” state. Existentialists emphasize individual freedom and responsibility, viewing individuals as the architects of their own meaning. The choice of how to act – whether in a manner deemed “civilized” or “savage” – is ultimately a personal one, and one that carries with it the responsibility for the resulting actions. There is no inherent meaning to life, no predetermined path to follow. We create meaning through our choices, through our actions, and through our acceptance of the consequences.
From this perspective, the specific label applied to the actions becomes less important than the individual’s understanding and acceptance of those actions. The essence of a human being is not defined by their adherence to societal norms, but by their capacity for consciousness, decision-making, and the taking of personal responsibility. The fear of the savage is thus a fear of unbridled chaos, of an existence without rules. But perhaps the greatest terror lies not in the savage act itself, but in the realization that the universe is ultimately indifferent to our actions. From a purely existentialist point of view, turning towards or turning away from a savage perspective, is ultimately a choice.
Moreover, the human capacity for compassion, empathy, and love transcends any arbitrary categorization. Acts of extreme kindness and sacrifice have been documented in situations of absolute chaos. The opposite has also been shown. It is not about good or evil, the savage or civilized: it is the human condition in its infinite complexity.
Examples in Literature
Historical narratives and fictional accounts provide compelling examples of the themes discussed. William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies,” is a powerful exploration of this very idea. A group of British schoolboys are stranded on a deserted island and, deprived of the structures of civilization, devolve into savagery. The boys’ struggle to maintain order and moral values as they are corrupted by fear, instinct, and the desire for power. The conch shell, representing order, gradually loses its significance. Piggy, the symbol of reason and intellectual thought, is ultimately murdered. The boys eventually, driven by their primitive urges, become savage, mirroring the worst aspects of the human condition. This novel isn’t just a story of boys on an island; it’s a brutal reflection of human nature. The island becomes a microcosm of society, highlighting the potential for barbarism that resides within us all.
“Heart of Darkness” by Joseph Conrad, is another example that delves into the darkness within. The narrative follows the journey of Charles Marlow into the heart of the African continent. Here, Marlow encounters the brutal realities of colonialism, as well as the descent into savagery of Kurtz, a charismatic ivory trader. Kurtz is transformed by his experience, ultimately succumbing to the primal forces of the wilderness. The novel questions the hypocrisy of “civilization” and its veneer of moral superiority. The descent of Kurtz underscores that the environment, the absence of societal norms, and the thirst for power can rapidly transform a man.
Modern Parallels
Consider, also, the accounts of survivalists or those who choose to live outside the parameters of mainstream society. Some seek a more primitive existence, connecting with nature. Their choices reveal the very nature of freedom and personal sovereignty. What defines their actions – are they savages? Or are they simply choosing a lifestyle that values different priorities?
In the modern era, we see echoes of this debate in countless ways. The allure of post-apocalyptic fiction often capitalizes on the fascination with the “savage” and the potential for societal breakdown. The popularity of survival shows, the rise of self-sufficiency movements, and the anxieties surrounding economic instability all speak to the underlying fears and fantasies about a return to a more primal state. These realities are often viewed with apprehension.
Addressing Counterarguments
But what of the counterarguments? Some will argue that the distinction between “civilized” and “savage” is crucial for maintaining order and protecting human rights. Without the constraints of law, morality, and social structures, they argue, society would descend into chaos. They’re not wrong. Without rules, structure, and the shared understanding of right and wrong, human interaction is nearly impossible. However, this argument doesn’t necessarily mean the actions of the “savage” are intrinsically meaningless or without purpose. Perhaps the most valid counterargument relates to the potential for real violence and suffering inherent in a world where restraint is lost. The brutal reality of power dynamics, the vulnerability of the weak, the potential for exploitation – these are dangers that cannot be ignored. But even within these dangers, the notion of “mattering” remains complex.
Conclusion
Ultimately, “It Do Not Matter Turn To A Savage” does not necessarily advocate for embracing savagery. Instead, it calls for a deeper examination of what lies at the core of human nature. It challenges the rigid categories that limit our understanding and encourages a more nuanced perspective on the complexities of human behavior.
The significance of these terms fades, and the need for a deeper understanding comes into focus. The true relevance of the question comes down to the capacity for self-reflection, the acceptance of responsibility, and the pursuit of meaning within a world that often seems meaningless. So, what is it that truly “matters”? It might not be the specific labels we apply to ourselves, or the external markers of our actions. It may be our choices, our intentions, and the manner in which we live those choices.
Perhaps what “matters” most is the ability to recognize the inherent contradictions, the potential for good and evil within each of us, and the freedom to choose how we navigate the intricate landscape of existence. Only then, can we truly understand ourselves, and the complex world around us. Embrace the question, and keep exploring.
