Within Lord of the Flies, William Golding, unlike many authors, provides his chapters with names, emphasizing the significant events within each passage, emphasizing how the boys ultimately grow more human through the self-destruction of order and civilization than the rest of society, especially during the time of war.

The fourth chapter, “Painted Faces and Long Hair,” often notes the ragged appearances of the boys, especially the growth of their hair and the paint they apply to their countenances, drawing attention to their encroaching savagery and the sluggish shedding of their humanity. Piggy seems to cling so much more desperately to order and civilization than his peers—with his useless suggestions for sundials and other foolish ideas—because of his reliance on modern life and its stability due to his asthma and myopia. His appearance reflects his inherent desire to remain civilized as he “was the only boy whose hair never seemed to grow,” (Golding 63), while the others remain “shock-headed” (Golding 63), demonstrating how they have slowly allowed their appearances to deteriorate, mimicking the way they gradually slip away from civility and into chaos. Slowly the boys abandon clothing as well when it proves too difficult to maintain, reflecting the conflict surrounding them: “Maurice’s trousers gave way with a sigh and he abandoned them as a wreck,” (Golding 65). Yet they still remain in control; though no longer governed by any authority, save themselves, the boys forgo causing intentional damage to one another, aiming instead to miss as the “invisible yet strong, taboo of old life,” (Golding 61) still hovers over them: “In his other life, Maurice had received chastisement for filling a younger eye with sand. Now though there was no parent to let fall a heavy hand, Maurice still felt the unease of wrongdoing,” (Golding 59).

 Jack, however, discovers a means to avoid that unnerving feeling of guilt by smearing his face with clay: “He looked in astonishment, no longer at himself but at an awesome stranger,” (Golding 63). By smothering his humanity beneath mounds of unnatural color, he reverts to a seemingly natural state of bestiality, providing him with a fear-inspired power over the other boys. His unnatural innovation mirrors the more effective and “humane” methods of ending human life, cloaking the morally wrong act by assuming a false identity, apparently cloaking and protecting the soul from harm.

But Jack does not wield true power, instead he brandishes a means of escaping the ever-present fear with his hunting and dancing. Fear governs the boys; fear of death, fear of the island, and fear of themselves. In Chapter 6, “Beast from Air,” a demonstration of the efficient devastation of mankind falls to the island in the form of a dead soldier: “There was a sudden bright explosion and a corkscrew trail across the sky […and] a figure dropping swiftly beneath a dangling parachute. A figure that hung with dangling limbs,” (Golding 96). Failing to realize its true form and thinking it a dangerous beast, the boys flee the mountain where it has landed, forsaking the fire—the smothering of hope by an unrecognizable horror: the savagery of mankind. The boys stranded on the island have escaped it, freed from the constraints of modern life, as well as the banal atrocities committed on a regular basis. Still young and naïve, they have not begun to fan the smoldering embers of their sadistic natures to life to develop methods of mass annihilation capable of sating these appetites in a socially acceptable manner. Abandoned by a world filled with anger and violence, they have not yet fallen back into the regime of their old lives. Like Piggy, the parachutist lacked enough protection to survive within the savagery of his world, so he succumbed, serving as a warning to the boys. Instead, they leave offerings to the victim of chaos and inhumanity in an attempt to appease it, practically worshipping the horrors creeping up on them: “‘this head is for the beast. It’s a gift,” (Golding 140). Only in the final chapter do the boys realize the state of the world and what they have become, bemoaning the destruction of mankind.

In chapter 12, “Cry of the Hunters,” Ralph remains the only sentient being on the island, as the choirboys have become savage hunters, and Piggy and Simon have been killed. When the boys first arrived on the island, the only group to have known each other prior to the crash consisted of Jack, Roger, and the rest of the choir. Throughout the book, they follow Jack obediently like a pack of dogs, especially after he breaks from Ralph and Piggy to go off on his own: “Jack was standing before a small group of boys […] each of them wore the remains of a black cap,” (Golding 136). The boys, who “ages ago…had stood in two demure rows and their voices had been the song of angels,” (Golding 136) no longer sing the praises of the universe, but now cry out bloody chants in hoarse voices “‘kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!’” (Golding 155), emphasizing their loss of innocence. The hunters submit to another cry when they and Ralph succumb to tears upon the realization of the atrocities they have committed, weeping for the death of Piggy and bemoaning the loss of innocence. Moreover, the navy officer who has come to rescue them merely looks away “allowing his eyes to rest on the trim cruiser in the distance,” (Golding 208). A man expected to possess more knowledge and maturity, not to mention more civility than a group of naked and dirty boys, and almost certainly guilty of the deaths of many a human being, redirects his gaze to the means of destruction as they grieve for their humanity.

Stranded upon a secluded island, freed from the atrocities of the rest of the world, the boys fail to live in peace due to their intrinsic lust for power and pleasure.  Only by being brought to heel by a higher authority do the boys recall their civility, though ironically, the higher power possesses no more than they themselves, serving only to drag the boys back into a world from which no escape is possible.