pride

Pride is the central, animating force of Santiago's character in The Old Man and the Sea, a quality that is neither simple vanity nor mere stubbornness but a profound, existential commitment to proving his worth as a fisherman and as a man. It is the engine of his epic struggle with the marlin, the source of his endurance against the sharks, and the lens through which he interprets his own suffering and triumph. Yet Santiago's pride is also deeply paradoxical: it is what makes him both heroic and tragic, driving him to go "too far out" and to kill a creature he loves and respects as a brother, while simultaneously providing the moral framework that allows him to accept his ultimate defeat without being destroyed.

The Nature of Santiago's Pride

Santiago's pride is not the arrogant, boastful pride of a young man; it is a quiet, deeply internalized sense of self-worth that has been tempered by age, poverty, and a long run of bad luck. He is an old man who has gone eighty-four days without a fish, and the sail of his skiff, patched with flour sacks, looks "like the flag of permanent defeat." Yet his eyes are "cheerful and undefeated," and his hope and confidence, though they have never gone, are "freshening as when the breeze rises." This pride is inseparable from his identity as a fisherman. He tells the boy Manolin, "I am a strange old man," and later, alone on the sea, he declares, "I told the boy I was a strange old man. Now is when I must prove it." The thousand times he has proved it mean nothing; each time is a new time. His pride demands constant, renewed proof of his worth, not for the approval of others, but for his own sense of integrity. This is a pride that has attained humility, a quality he knows "was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride." It is a pride that can accept charity from the boy and from Martin, the owner of the Terrace, while still vowing to repay them with the belly meat of a big fish.

Pride as the Engine of the Struggle

Once Santiago hooks the great marlin, his pride becomes the primary resource he draws upon to endure the physical and mental ordeal. He repeatedly tells himself that he must prove what a man can do and what a man endures. When his left hand cramps, he berates it as a "treachery of one's own body" and a humiliation, especially when he is alone. He thinks of the great DiMaggio, who does all things perfectly even with the pain of a bone spur, and uses the baseball star as a model of prideful excellence to emulate. His pride is what allows him to transform suffering into a test of will. He says to the fish, "I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends." This declaration is not born of hatred but of a prideful commitment to his role as a fisherman, a role he was "born for." The struggle becomes a contest of pride between two noble adversaries. Santiago thinks, "I wish I could show him what sort of man I am. But then he would see the cramped hand. Let him think I am more man than I am and I will be so." His pride is a self-fulfilling prophecy, a willed act of becoming that sustains him through the pain of the line cutting into his back and hands.

The Moral Paradox: Pride, Love, and Killing

Santiago's pride leads him into a profound moral paradox. He loves and respects the marlin, calling it his "brother" and a creature "more noble and more able" than the men who kill them. Yet his pride as a fisherman compels him to kill it. He reflects, "You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?" This internal debate reveals that Santiago's pride is not a simple, unexamined drive. It forces him to confront the ethical implications of his actions. He wonders if it was a sin to kill the fish, even though he did it to keep himself alive and to feed many people. He ultimately justifies the killing by framing it as an act of love and respect, a duel between equals in which he has proven himself worthy. This moral complexity is the hallmark of his pride: it is not a blind instinct but a conscious, agonizing choice that he must live with.

Pride and Defeat: The Unconquered Spirit

The most famous articulation of Santiago's pride comes after the sharks have destroyed the marlin, leaving only a skeleton. He says aloud, "But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated." This statement is the distilled essence of his pride. It is not a claim of victory but a declaration of an unconquerable inner spirit. Even as he acknowledges that he is beaten, that the sharks have taken everything, his pride refuses to accept that he has been defeated. He tells the boy, "They beat me, Manolin. They truly beat me," but he immediately clarifies that it was not the fish that beat him, but the sharks that came afterwards. His pride allows him to distinguish between being destroyed physically and being defeated spiritually. He has gone out too far, he admits, and that was his mistake, his violation of his own luck. But this admission is not an abdication of pride; it is a clear-eyed assessment that preserves his dignity. He has fought to the absolute limit of his endurance, and in that fight, his pride has been vindicated, even if the material prize is lost.

The Legacy of Pride: A Shared Future

In the aftermath of his ordeal, Santiago's pride does not isolate him but instead reconnects him to the community, particularly to the boy Manolin. The boy, who has always believed in the old man, insists that they will fish together again, declaring, "The hell with luck. I'll bring the luck with me." Santiago initially resists, saying he is no longer lucky, but the boy's loyalty and the tangible evidence of the marlin's skeleton—measured at eighteen feet—restore his place in the world. The proprietor of the Terrace calls it "such a fish" and says, "There has never been such a fish." Santiago's pride, which drove him to achieve something unprecedented, is now recognized and honored by his peers. The boy's plan to get a new killing lance and to fish together again signals that Santiago's pride will be passed on, not as a burden, but as a lesson in endurance, skill, and the proper relationship between a man and the sea. The old man, sleeping and dreaming of the lions on the beach, has not been defeated. His pride has carried him through the worst and left him, though physically broken, spiritually intact.