Francis Macomber defines humanity

The pecking order of the natural world places the most adapted species at the top of the food chain, preying upon the helpless multitudes of less-well-equipped organisms below. It would seem that chance and random mutation once placed humankind on this pedestal, and that since we have made such extraordinary gains in subsequent millennia that we might hunt lower beings not for sustenance, but for sport. This dichotomy of the human and the non-human, perhaps invention of our collective societal psyche, governs much of the way both fictional characters like Francis Macomber and we real humans perceive the natural world around us. Through evolutionary adaptation humans have become the dominant animal on this planet—extending our omnipotence to the point where our very recreation determines the survival of any lower organisms—and it is this relationship which defines humans and non-humans.

Can we accurately say that the only quality separating us from the brutish animal world is our position of dominion over them? Is there nothing more unique about humankind than our evolutionary adaptations? We humans are none too special, with almost all of our genetic information shared with chimpanzees and our intellectual capacities almost rivaled by that of a dolphin. More radical scientists suggest we even extend special rights to dolphins on account of their mental abilities. But if we’re naught but risen apes, what differentiates us from animals in the zoo? A stroke of luck granted us a mental edge over the Neanderthal and homo habilis, allowing our race to propagate to the extent that our collective industrial endeavors can alter the climate of the planet. Thanks to technology, humans have achieved complete control over the natural world and its inhabitants.

The distinction of omnipotent hunter versus defenseless prey is clearest in Hemingway’s story as the characters venture into the wilderness to try their luck at big game hunting. What was once an essential and dangerous matter of life-or-death for primitive man has become a leisure activity for affluent Westerners. The animals are merely our playthings! The importance of hunting and killing other animals isn’t even a focal element of the story, but mainly serves as a vehicle for a study of the characters’ relationships. Macomber here represents the human race’s relationship with the animal world to an incredible extent: zealously willing to claim dominion over it through technological violence, yet all the while humbled by its beauty and power. Macomber’s cowardice is fruit of his recognition of his own vulnerability within the animals’ domain. The danger posed to him by these larger creatures, which are supposedly his prey, instantly refutes any longstanding assumptions he’d held about humanity’s place in the world. We are animals, same as the lions and buffalos. And on their turf, we lose most of our formidable advantage.