53 pages 1 hour read

Lord Jim

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1900

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Themes

The Unfulfilled Promises of Empire

The imperial enterprise was about more than simply opening and solidifying trade routes or obtaining goods and raw materials. It was also very clearly about bringing “civilization” to Indigenous peoples in foreign lands. The “civilizing mission” was a myth used to justify the extraction of goods and the oppression of peoples in places outside of the imperial centers. Thus, the project of empire was divided against itself: On the one hand, it was allegedly a moral mission to reform and protect Indigenous peoples; on the other hand, it was undoubtedly a way to enrich the imperial powers under the guise of said mission. What the Indigenous peoples saw most often was an ambiguous presence: White men who would come and take what they wanted before they inevitably retreated. This pattern is evident in Jewel’s fear that Marlow (a representative of the imperial center) is going to take Jim away from her. Her belief that Jim will eventually leave, whether he wants to or not, is conditioned by her people’s long experience with white interlopers: “They always leave” (265). There is a hollowness at the heart of empire, and this sense pervades Lord Jim.

The many who surround Jim obviously believe that he will only be a temporary fixture in Patusan. Even those most devoted to Jim believe he will leave and return to his own people at some point. As Marlow discusses the matter with Doramin, Doramin says, quite frankly, that white men “come to us and in a little while they go. They go away” (229). Meanwhile, those left behind “do not know when to look for their return” (229). Doramin knows they eventually return to the imperial centers from whence they came. For another example, the Rajah asks, after capturing Jim, if, as a white man, he might just like to go back down the river. Even Cornelius tries cynically to capitalize on the belief that Jim will eventually leave anyway if he is not killed, offering to assist Jim to leave immediately for a small sum. This serves to emphasize the motif that the white man—and his authority—are out of place in the lands in which they attempt to assert their authority.

Jim’s whiteness also bestows upon him a kind of protection, at least for a time, and eliminates any competition to his authority. As Marlow tells it, Dain Waris embodies all of the qualities of leadership, as well as an understanding of the local culture, though Waris “had not Jim’s racial prestige and the reputation of invincible, supernatural power” (304). The narratives of imperial superiority have been spread wide throughout even the far-flung outposts of empire, and Jim benefits from those precedents. Marlow praises Dain Waris for having a “European mind” (218) but he cannot compete with the foreign incursions and imperial narratives that have served to elevate Jim. Indeed, the reputation of the white man is so impenetrable that Jim is considered akin to an immortal, a “supernatural power.” In contrast, Dain Waris can only be seen as a fallible human: “He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of unfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and admired as he was, he was still one of them, while Jim was one of us. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was invulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed” (304). The irony of this narrative is that Jim himself also succumbs to forces beyond his control and is eventually, perhaps inevitably, killed as well.

Jewel, Jim’s protector, believes him to be different from the other white men, as does Marlow. Ultimately, however, he betrays her by facing his fate and allowing Doramin to kill him. His sense of duty, though, is suspect, as is Marlow’s narration. In seeking to redeem himself, Jim follows a code of conduct that represents the mythic qualities a British gentleman, not an ethical code rooted in mutual respect and obligation. As Marlow puts it, “And that’s the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, and excessively romantic” (350). Just like empire itself, Jim is inscrutable, his ideas untenable. Thus, with Jim’s passing, the true nature of empire is exposed: Like Jim, it is propped up by unsustainably romantic ideas that are, ultimately, inadequate to the task of justifying its harms.

The Illusion of Control and the Nature of Destiny

Before the collision on the Patna, Jim feels “the great certitude of unbounded safety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature” (13). Certain of his own place in the world, he awaits a moment to show himself heroic. His belief that he is a hero of immense capability only waiting for his chance shows a hubris specific to empire, one which Marlow and Stein continue to advance in supporting and propping Jim up. As Marlow says over and over again, he is “one of us.” In this context, “one of us” means a white of elevated social status who, propped up by the power of empire, is in a position to control his own destiny while others are at the mercy of fate and happenstance. However, both natural forces and human nature serve to undermine this assumption: Jim cannot escape the vagaries of the open ocean any more than he can escape the passions of the local authorities or the machinations of outsiders.

When the Patna strikes a dangerous object in the open sea, Marlow states that “in those seas—the incident was rare enough to resemble a special arrangement of a malevolent providence” to bring “worse than death upon Jim” (131). And, of course, to the British gentleman, what is worse than death is dishonor. What might have been worse than death for the pilgrims below deck, who were abandoned—presumably to drown—is not a primary consideration for Marlow, or for Jim. Instead, the inexplicable fact that the ship did not sink seems an example to Marlow of some “Omnipotence,” a sign to the ocean directing it not to take the ship, thus exposing Jim to dishonor (79). This dishonor compels Jim to accept the position in Patusan, where he remains confident in his ability to overcome whatever external forces he might encounter there, all of which intimidate him less than his own internal sense of shame. Jim’s romantic sense of his own authority—and the concomitant authority of empire—encourages him to tempt fate, to set the events in motion that end his life.

In addition, when Jim takes on authority in Patusan, it is clear that human nature is as dangerous as the open seas. Jim is immediately imprisoned by Rajah Allang when he arrives in Patusan, and Cornelius’s intrigues with Sherif Ali nearly lead to Jim’s assassination. Though Jim achieves an uneasy peace in Patusan, his sense of control is an illusion, not unlike that achieved while steering a ship across a peaceful sea. Finally, Brown, who serves as an alter ego to Jim in the novel, exploits both Jim’s guilty conscience and his sense of honor, to Jim’s undoing.

Ultimately, the forces of nature—human and otherwise—are more powerful than the forces that govern Jim, the empire, or any other authority. From the twin terrors of Scylla and Charybdis in The Odyssey to the white whale in Moby-Dick, the power of nature when pitted against the will of man has served as a consistent theme in Western literature. If, in Marlow’s terms, the “initial word” of a destiny may already be “graven in imperishable characters upon the face of the rock,” Conrad shows human nature responsible for more of the remaining words than Jim would wish to admit (153).

Idealism, Isolation, and Redemption

Before the incident on the Patna that changes Jim’s life, he is already described as feeling separate from the other crew members on board. The white crew is physically isolated from the passengers, but Jim also feels personally isolated from the rest of the crew in part because he sees in them no romantic dreams of heroism on the high seas; they do not have his idealism. However, Jim’s own heroic idealism fails him when he and the other white crew members abandon the ship. Instead, he reveals his shared sense of white privilege, leaving everyone else on the ship presumably to drown. Thus, Jim’s heroic ideals are compromised by circumstances. Jim’s isolation in some ways feeds his idealism, as if by being the only white authority present, he is the only bastion of altruism and duty. Ultimately, however, if Jim achieves any redemption at all, it is in dutiful recognition of and submission to the will of the community.

Following the abandonment of the Patna and the inquiry, Jim is permanently isolated from his fellow seamen and the sea as his certificate is revoked. The extent to which Jim still feels that isolation years later is evident when he witnesses, but cannot share in, Marlow’s joy at returning to sea. Marlow constantly proclaims that Jim is “one of us,” the repetition is indicative of uncertainty: He seems almost as if he is trying to convince himself at times. In addition, when Jim becomes settled in Patusan, he feels himself isolated, though he is surrounded by people; it is simply that he is isolated from other white foreigners—only their presence renders his position legitimate. Ironically, it is the returning presence of white foreigners, Brown and his crew, that leads directly to Jim’s demise.

In addition to his feeling of isolation, Jim’s idealism drives him to make decisions that both alienate him from his fellow crewmates at the beginning—they are not adventurous dreamers—and lead to his downfall at the end. He embraces the position of Tuan Jim, though it is questionable whether he deserves such a position based on the planning of a single military victory to oust Sherif Ali. Nonetheless, he takes it upon himself to decide questions both significant and minor for those indigenous to Patusan, and he is comfortable having the last word, believing himself the best person for the position. Jim believes he is achieving the greatness for which he was always destined, fulfilling his romantic destiny, though he has largely been placed in a position of power because he is white, while Indigenous talents such as Dain Waris are thrust aside. “I am responsible for every life in the land,” says Jim (332). Ultimately, his idealized sense of self, now reaching a near god complex, causes Jim to make terrible mistakes in his dealings with Brown, under the guise of his own magnanimity.

Still, Jim ultimately seeks redemption in the service of what he considers duty—though whether it actually redeems him is an open question. When Jim decides to allow Brown and his men to pass freely back to the ocean, he makes this decision against the wishes of prominent local authorities. He professes himself ready to answer with his life for any harm that comes to anyone based upon his decision. In the end, that harm is catastrophic, as Dain Waris and many others die as a result of Jim’s choice. Rather than fight or attempt to escape, Jim presents himself in front of Doramin to answer for his decision, and Doramin kills him. Jim’s action is both the fulfillment of a duty to the community—redeeming his prior failure of duty—and a romantic self-martyring in keeping with Jim’s other idealistic dreams.

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