Even in the beginning, Jack's personality is distinctly powerful and ruthless. It is interesting to note that, after a storm and a plane crash, Jack still is able to gather together and lead a perfect formation of choir boys in a flawless march down the beach. Even from the outset, he has tremendous leadership ability. He also exhibits extreme callousness and is able to spread this callousness to the other boys. In the very beginning, Jack commands his underlings to ignore Simon when he faints though at that time they were reluctant to show such blatant ignorance to the suffering of a human being. In the choir boy's minds, however, Jack's almost godlike presence seems to rationalize anything that he actually instructs them to do (or not do). In this way, Jack is able to make some theoretically benign and sensible people act like callous and brutal machines in practice. One must wonder if Jack uses the sort of leadership methods exhibited by Hitler or any brutal dictator. After the war, when members of the German army were shown videos of their own atrocities, many descended into tears. It was almost as if, with their leader gone, they no longer had anyone to help them rationalize or deny their own behavior. Suddenly, they found themselves back in possession of their own thoughts, and their own thoughts suddenly realized what had really happened. Illusions of order, power, and enjoyment melted away, allowing more basic and truthful human emotions and philosophies to break the surface. Jack develops this leadership “method” throughout the story and the other boys find it increasingly convenient to allow him to be responsible (after all, why argue with someone when they let you do exactly what you want) while they let remorse and logical thought to float out into the breeze. Jack further recognizes this willingness presented by the other boys to invest themselves entirely in his false logic and rationalization and he capitalizes further on it and learns its intricacies and carefully toes the limits of its effectiveness. There was often a slight reluctance to do his bidding: the boys did not feel quite normal ignoring Simon as he lay prostrate on the ground, nor did they particularly want to tie up SamnEric but Jack knew his aura of “reason” and power would shift them just that slight bit more. Also, Jack utilized even more advanced leadership methods that could be more closely described as mind control and manipulation. He used the “dance” to great effect in his later stages of leadership. This dance was originally inspired by one of the greater motivators of all time: fear. Jack, through a sort of study of the other boys, learned that he need only utter the word “Beast” and cast himself as the sole means of salvation to invoke an intense and feral response of anger and violence that could be easily redirected through any additional connection of the Beast or the means to escape it to whatever he may have wanted done at the time. Also, the very fact that Jack saw the “Beast” seemed to help the effectiveness of this method. His own (though arguably lessened) fear helped him sincerely establish this fear in the others. By experiencing this fear, he was better equipped to inflict it.

It was also interesting to watch as the bonds of civilization fell away from Jack like so many worn out clothes. Jack's passage into brutality was a battle with himself, though more with what civilization had applied to him. He passed from disregarding Simon when he faints, to barely checking his arm short of the writhing piglet, to severing a pigs head and preparing to bring Ralph's head to the same fate. In many ways, it was simply the passage of time and the isolation that allowed civilization to slip away. It is likely that Jack slowly stopped visualizing the reaction of his parents or his teachers to his every action. On a remote island, it is likely easy to stop thinking in the context of civilization's response, instead Jack began to be his own judge. Here is a fundamental difference between Jack and say…Simon. Jack adheres to civilizations rules due to little more than a sort of conditioning. He knows that negative actions bring negative responses (or at least used to). In Simon's case however, right and wrong is either more deeply ingrained or it is actually a fundamental part of his entire being. Even without outside influence, Simon actually seems to be a sensitive and loving person as a default. Jack, on the other hand, quickly becomes a vehicle of his every whim and desire. In a sense, he enjoys an ultimate freedom near the end of the story. He is separate from the bonds of sensibilities, remorse and consideration for the feelings of others. He is the only person in the world to worry about. It is not as if this happens all at once. There are hurdles to pass, steps to make towards the final destination of savagery. The killing of the sow was a huge step for Jack. It allowed him to prove to the once well rooted vestiges of civilization inside himself that he was indeed capable of savagery and bloodshed, that he could cut throats and stab with spears and instruct a horde of followers to do likewise. There is some amazing phenomena that causes us to be able to do something with relative ease once we have done it once. Jack decapitates an animal once, and Golding leaves us little doubt that Jack, in a much later stage of his escape from society, would be able to move another step and do the same to Ralph.

It is arguable that without Jack, the events on the island would not have escalated the way they did. Unfortunately, Jack developed immensely by shrugging off the influence of morals and compassion and learning how to control others in a sick supplement to his destructive newfound freedom. No evil or manipulative person seems to simply become their full fledged form instantly; they must evolve, learn the required techniques, and free themselves from any positive influence that has been cast around them.

First, let us compare the CIA and Ahab, along with the CIA's perception of Castro with that of Ahab's thoughts on Moby Dick. While Moby Dick, in taking off Ahab's leg, shifted the fundamental power between man and whale, Castro did the same during the Bay of Pigs. Suddenly, a small time Latin American dictator had turned back a CIA sponsored invasion with very little effort. While few dictators go down without a fight, the CIA was, until this point, fundamentally the hunter. Suddenly the quarry jumps to equal terms: “I've oversailed him. How, got the start? Aye, he's chasing me now; not I him-that's bad… (526)” Ahab's manipulation of his crew also echoes in the CIA's use pf all sectors of the government to serve their own style of monomania. The CIA took a great deal of effort in convincing Kennedy to OK the costly and ultimately doomed Bay of Pigs invasion. Most of the proxies involved in the Bay of Pigs were captured or killed, meshing well with the final fate of Ahab's crew: “The ship! The hearse!-the second hearse! Its wood could only be American! (534)” Despite what may have been their better judgment, the CIA pushed all out for a move that, given the outcome, was obviously obscenely risky.

However, something about Castro compelled the CIA: “What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it: what cozzening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time..? (508)” Ahab makes an alliance with the devil in his mad quest for the white whale. The CIA went ahead and made nearly the same alliance: “Robert Maheu, a "cleared" CIA contact working as a private investigator, got in touch with Johnny Roselli, whom the CIA describes as "a high-ranking member of the "syndicate"…CIA official was present when Roselli was offered $150,000 for facilitating the "removal" of Castro. (US News and World Report)”

The CIA, while often a bit underhanded in its techniques, made an alliance with a classical moral enemy, all in the name of finally conquering its own devil. All of this, if viewed in a shallow manner, simply portrays the CIA's (and Ahab's) immoral nature. However, both “whale hunters” invoked these risks and moral contradictions in response to what they saw as the ultimate evil. In other words, all this simply reinforces the position of Castro and Moby directly at the heart of evil.

So what is it about Castro and Moby Dick that warrants such an insane pursuit? Given the personalities of Ahab and the CIA, the answer, in its purest form, is simple. Both Moby Dick and Castro represent an evil force. In Castro's case, this characterization appears far more realistic. Even more so than Moby Dick, Castro has shown himself to be calculating and intelligent. Ultimately, the evil provides the initial motivation. However, after the hunters first dealt with Moby Dick and Castro, a new aspect of their loathsomeness became apparent. Ahab and the CIA both hate anything indestructible, untouchable, or unassailable. Both view everything in the world as fair game. Of course, the pair neither forgives nor forgets. Unlike the English Captain, the two hunters will never say anything resembling a resigned respect: “'Did'st thou cross his wake again?' "Twice" "But could not fasten?" "Didn"t want to try to: ain't one limb enough?'(419)”

Ahab lost his leg and Castro affronted the CIA in a decidedly direct manner during the Cuban Missile Crisis. It is not as if Moby Dick and Castro barely escape; instead, they make the attempts against them look feeble. In what seemed a clever plan, the CIA convinced Castro's former lover to poison him while he slept. Of course, these efforts only enhanced Castro's godlike invincibility: “According to this woman, Castro had already guessed that she was aiming to kill him and he duly offered her his own pistol. "I can"t do it, Fidel,' she told him. (Guardian.co.uk)” To the CIA, communism and acceptance of Russian missiles was more than enough to warrant an endless stream of assassination attempts. The true hatred must have come, though when the CIA began realizing that none of their efforts, even ones that should have worked, were paying off.

Castro might as well have been a great sperm whale for however much the various attempts on his life affected him.

In the end, the CIA never entered an ultimate showdown with Castro, though they came close to a similar situation during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Also, the proportions of the conflict are entirely wrong. While the sperm whale and the whaling ship are near equals, Castro should have been no match for the CIA. In fact, the impossibility of his series of small triumph makes this situation even more dramatic than that of Moby Dick. Maybe truth is stranger than fiction. In the end, the analogy still works. Ahab and the CIA shared the same kind of single-minded, all-sacrificing determination in a hunt for quarry that slowly emerged as virtually unconquerable. Still, that chance of an ultimate victory floated on ahead and the hunters remained convinced that existence in a universe with such unassailable evil was intolerable. For as long as we can remember, this mindset has been the subject of numerous dramas, both real and fictional.

Casy, while obviously imperfect, unlike Jesus, eventually demonstrates quite Christ like altruism and finally self sacrifice. He also has the same initials…Casy views the poor as his people, a group bound to his protection, much like Jesus viewed his own “flock”. Casy's calm acceptance of his own sacrifice is another powerful quality, once again utilized as well by the Good Book. In fact, much like Jesus Himself, Casy understands and even accepts outright betrayal by those he sacrifices his life to protect: “An' know what? Them folks he been tryin' to help tossed him out. Jus' as natural as rain.” (525)

In the same vein, Casy wins the ultimate victory by forgiving his killers for their sin: “You fellas don' know what you're doin'”(527). Jesus does the same, asking: "Father forgive them; they know not what they do." This unconditional forgiveness and wisdom in the face of murder entails a purity and clarity of mind many of us would love to possess. Such a powerful act is not fascinating simply because of its appearance in the Bible; rather, it fascinates people because it is a rare and powerful expression of pure goodness. While Casy's actual actions pale somewhat in comparison to those of Christ, we could certainly imagine the story of Casy emerging thousands of years later, raised to the same level by centuries of retelling. Regardless of the truth of the exact comparison, Steinbeck explores the same themes with Casy as the Bible relies on with Jesus.

Unfortunately, nearly every work of fiction has a character that can plausibly be declared a “Jesus”. This comparison is somewhat stale, though many are fascinated by the concepts of true altruism and moral purity. However, the scene with Uncle John and the baby is more complex and arguably more unique. Still, the parallels with the story of Baby Moses in the Bullrushes should ring a bell in the heads of any American over the age of....eight or so. Like Moses, the baby released by John journeys as a desperate hope for an entire people: “Go down an' tell em'. Go down in the street an' rot an' tell em' that way. That's the way you can talk.”(609) Desperation obviously exists in any situation where a newborn is left to the mercy of the water and charged with the future of an entire people. Yet, if we examine this metaphor directly, we may also imply that this sacrifice will pay off, that “They'll know then” (609). Just as Moses ultimately returned to the Hebrews and led them to freedom, so to might we imply that the lot of the migrants will eventually improve, that they might be delivered from eternal slavery. Still, there is no possibility of a stillborn baby returning and literally leading a people to freedom. In all probability, Steinbeck never intended the comparison to be interpreted literally, if at all.

Arguably, Steinbeck could have hardly ended the book more expertly than with the potent atmospheric backdrop of the flood. Any major flood, like the great Biblical Flood, provides a clear separation of time. There is the time before, and the time after. The flood brings a new beginning. Its way is destructive, but the ultimate result is a cleansing, a purification like the one that God took to an extreme in the Bible. After the flood, everything, to a degree, starts anew. Thus, by ending the book with a flood, Steinbeck gifts us with a surprising sense of hope, mysterious in its origins, possibly sensed by Rose of Sharon when “her lips came together and she smiled mysteriously.” Floods also add an interesting new dimension to human interaction. Every action is more desperate, but, at the same time, more pure, free from the usual underhanded, implied meanings of conversation and relationships in everyday life. It is through this time of clarity that Ma's control over the family is finally realized and understood: “Were a- getting outa here”, she said savagely, “getting to higher groun. An you're comin or you aint comin but im takin Rosasharn an the little fellas outa here” (613). Ma's rise to power is implied throughout the novel, but the flood provides the desperate backdrop against which her dominance springs into permanence. While the flood hardly exhibits the qualities of the Great Flood with any degree of accuracy, its connotations and its hold on our psyche are certainly related.

Steinbeck probably never crafted his writing merely in order to invoke comparisons with Biblical text. Instead, he, like many other storytellers, realized that the Bible has some good ideas for when it comes time to gain a hold on readers' emotions and thoughts. Authors tend towards these themes because they are things people have been thinking about for a very long time. Probably even before the Bible was written.