“There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.
This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad in a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight.”
― Jack London, The Call of the Wild
Who would have guessed a 120 year old book about a dog playing in the snow would be a near-perfect allegory for decoding what it means to be a man?
About twenty years ago, I started a journey of self-discovery. It wasn’t intentional, nor was it planned, and it wasn’t until many years later that I even realized I was on a journey. More specifically, it was a journey to discover who I was as a man. It was a journey to discover something that resided deep inside me. What it was, I didn't know at the time. I didn’t recognize it because I didn’t have a frame of reference. Or at least I didn’t recognize what others thought too obvious to verbalize.
I had flashes of this primal instinct throughout my twenty-six years of life. These elusive flashes popped up when I was navigating through the woods of Northern Michigan on “adventures”, hunting game both large and small, playing a few sports… even drawing pictures of machines of war.
Now, though, with the benefit of hindsight, it’s all too clear. That journey I started two decades ago was my journey to actualize my own innate sense of masculinity. That hindsight isn’t a new development; it started to come into focus around a decade ago. However, it’s taken that long to fully articulate what that journey actually means. More importantly, how I can use the revelation of the nature of the journey to create a roadmap for other men to decode their own path to becoming the man they were destined to become.
Enter Jack London’s “The Call of the Wild.” London’s story follows Buck, a dog who was born into a comfortable lifestyle in the Santa Clara Valley, California, which is located south of the San Francisco Bay area. The story takes place during the Klondike gold rush in the late 1890’s. Buck is living the good life in “Southland” (the comfortable, civilized region of California where the “Law of Love and Fellowship” reigns), but gets forcefully taken to the decidedly more rugged Yukon region in Canada where he’s used as a sled dog for gold prospectors (where the “Law of Club and Fang” reigns.)
Buck undergoes a complete transformation from a soft, pampered, naive pet in California to primal, dominating beast in the Yukon. The story documents the many trials and tribulations Buck experiences, the various dogs and people he meets, and the lessons he learns. Every one of these elements of London’s story have an analogous experience I’ve had on my own journey to discover who I am as a man, which gives this story incredible value as a teaching resource. In the next few installations, I’ll explain how Buck’s journey can be used as a roadmap for men to discover who they are and, more importantly, how they can become the best men they can be.
If you've never read the book, it's a public domain book, meaning the copyright has expired, so it's freely available in electronic (ebook and audiobook) form, and there are many print versions available for purchase. Check out those options here:
Where to get Jack London's "The Call of the Wild"
Chapter One: Into the Primitive
Buck’s Cushy Life in California
The opening chapter of the book introduces Buck and sets the time frame and plot - gold had just been discovered in the “Northland”, and that discovery created a demand for strong, furry dogs. Buck’s current living arrangement is introduced, a “big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley, Judge Miller’s place.” London describes Judge Miller’s place (referred to as the “Southland” throughout the novel) as a posh, expansive estate where Buck is afforded all of the comforts and amenities of the time. The vast manor housed a diverse collection of dogs, which number too many to count. These dogs include sporting foxhounds and two house dogs, Toots, a pug, and Ysabel, a Mexican hairless.
Buck is described as a 140 pound descendant of Elmo, and Saint Bernard, and Shep, a Scottish Shepherd Dog. Elmo was the Judge’s inseparable companion, which Buck followed. Given his size and social position with the Judge, Buck ruled over the estate as a king. Buck He lives the life of an aristocrat where every need and whim is fulfilled. London notes Buck has a “fine pride in himself” to the point of being egotistical in the same way “as county gentlemen sometimes become because of their insular situation.”
In other words, Buck lives the good life without any understanding that his soft, cushy existence is an incredibly privileged experience. Buck’s world had been built on the backs of men who conquered the harsh primordial world that existed before the Santa Clara Valley became a gilded Utopia for the wealthy. Worse, Buck dominates over the peaceful, serene world as if it were something he earned. In reality, he was merely born into the right place at the right time.
This is precisely where modern men find themselves. Thanks to technology, the force that corrodes masculinity, most of us live the safest, easiest, most comfortable lives humans have experienced since the dawn of time. Our hunter-gatherer ancestors lived brutal lives of perpetual danger from predators, disease, and other humans mired in bitter fights for scarce resources. Each of us alive today are the descendents of the winners of this competition of the survival of the fittest.
Yet you wouldn’t know it by our inability to fight, hunt, or survive. We’re completely and hopelessly dependent on technology to provide the means of survival. When it’s raining, we retreat to our houses. When we have to travel, we hop in our cars. When we’re hot, we turn up the heat. When we’re cold, we turn on the AC. When we’re hungry, we have Door Dash deliver Taco Bell. When we seek adventure and valor, we play Call of Duty. It’s little wonder why we’re the softest, weakest men in the history of humanity.
Yet, like Buck, we’re blissfully deluded into believing we’re the kings over this artificial existence. I’ve met men who believe they would survive an apocalypse, yet can’t change a light bulb. Because we’ve never experienced the struggles that, for generation after generation before us, have forged strong, courageous, respected men of honor, we believe we are responsible for creating our world. Like Buck, we believe we deserve the pride we feel for our existence.
Like the hard-working entrepreneur who built an empire through sweat, sacrifice, and toil only to see his sons piss away the family fortune because they became lazy, irresponsible slugs, our generations have pissed away the virtues of masculinity that built the very world we all enjoy.
This is the Faustian bargain of modernity. Technology renders masculinity obsolete, masculinity becomes a feared, vilified, reviled concept, and men stop acting like men. Remove the struggle and you remove the mechanism that creates the skill and drive to overcome struggle. The end result? Soft, weak, low-status men… who convince themselves they are kings. We celebrate getting promoted to a slightly larger cubicle at work, celebrate in building the coffee table from Ikea, and celebrate second place in our office fantasy football pool.
Such was Buck’s existence… until Manuel decided he needed some quick cash to fuel his addiction.
Buck’s Posh Life Comes to an End
One night, Manuel, one of the Judge’s gardner’s helpers, led Buck on a walk through the orchard. The two met up with a strange man, a rope was placed around Buck’s neck, money was exchanged, and Buck was led away. Buck, in his naivete, did not resist. He did let out a solitary growl to voice his displeasure, fully expecting the growl to resolve the issue. In Buck’s civilized Southland world, to voice one’s displeasure was synonymous with commanding. Say it, and it shall be true.
Only Buck wasn’t in The Southland anymore; the men who took him did not play by their civilized rules. They merely tightened the rope and chuckled. The safety afforded civility only works when all the players abide by the rules spelled out in the social contracts that make places like the Southland possible. The arrogance and entitlement displayed by those who have only ever experienced The Southland vanishes in an instant when the veneer of civility is stripped away.
Buck eventually ends up with The Man in the Red Sweater, who is in the business of “breaking” dogs. His methods are brutally simple. He receives dogs like Buck who have been ripped from their posh existence, then beaten with a club until they submit. Buck, enraged by his poor treatment on the journey in a small crate from Judge Miller’s place, is released. He immediately lunges at The Man in the Red Sweater and is rebuffed with a hard blow of the club. Buck attacks again. He gets clubbed again. Round after round, this continues until, eventually, he’s knocked senseless. When he comes to, he can’t muster the strength to attack again. The Man in the Red Sweater pats Buck on the head, gives him some water, and feeds him some pieces of raw meat.
“Well Buck my boy,” he says, “you’re learned your place, and I know mine. Be a good dog and all’ll go well and the goose hang high. Be a bad dog, and I’ll whale the stuffin’ outa you. Understand?”
While he was at The Man in the Red Sweater’s compound, he saw more dogs come and go. Some capitulated to the blows from the club sooner, some capitulated later. One dog refused to accept this new law and was beaten to death.
This was Buck’s introduction to a new law he had not experienced in The Southland - The Primitive Law - that a man with a club was a man to be obeyed, though not necessarily conciliated. This incident is the first mention that Buck was unafraid and unbroken by this new, strange, harsh world because he faced it “...with all the latent cunning of his nature aroused.” The experience triggered something primal within Buck, something that had been buried for the entirety of his life in the comfort of The Southland.
The laws that rule The Southland, which London calls The Law of Love and Fellowship, are not the same rules that rule this new, foreign world Buck has been thrust into, and Buck’s introduction to this new law was swift and brutal. We see this happen with modern men when they’re thrust out of the comforts of civility. We see this during natural disasters, pandemics, when good, law-abiding people come face-to-face with violent criminals, or any other manner of calamity. The thin veneer of the law that rules the civility of The Southland quickly disappears to reveal the more brutal reality where those who are most capable of violence rule.
Some men, when confronted by this law of violence, immediately roll over, show their bellies, and beg for mercy. Others ignorantly cling to the laws of The Southland and die. A few take Buck’s path and understand the nature of this law of violence. These are the men who accept their place in the hierarchy; these are the men who understand their place in the world is earned, not given. “King” status isn’t conferred just because your father was Judge Miller’s favorite dog. These are the men who understand the laws that govern masculinity.
Buck is eventually sold and transported via ship to the frozen tundra of the Canadian Yukon. It is here where this new, strange law is fully realized - this is where Buck learns the Law of Club and Fang.
In the next section, I'll discuss chapters two through four.
~Jason
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