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Sunday, July 14, 2024

On preparation

This week we read "The Last Debate," during which Aragorn, Gandalf, and others discuss what to do, now that Sauron has been beaten back from Gondor's gates.  They all agree he will return with even greater strength, and that there is no victory for them possible by fighting.  Their only hope is Frodo - whom they hope is in Mordor.  They decide, then, to bring the fight to Sauron's gates and challenge him to battle, not so that they might win, but so he might become distracted from the real threat within his own lands.

When they agree to this, Gandalf adds this to the conversation:

‘Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a
servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the
world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we
are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after
may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.

I like this image of clean Earth contrasted against the weather.  We can only do so much to provide for future generations.  They will have to make their own choices and deal with problems we cannot forsee.  But there are things we can do to give them the best start we can.

Of course, there is an obvious problem with this analogy.  We are doing things to make the weather worse.  As I write this we're entering a third week of an ongoing, if inconsistent, heatwave.  It's been above 90 degrees for over half the days since this month began.  Even with the small breaks it's been remarkably hot.

It remains an analogy, but the question is what can we do with unforeseen consequences.  After all, people did not know what we know now back in the 60s, the 30s, the 1800s when industrialization took off.  Some of them knew in the 80s, but people also used to think we'd overpopulated the planet and that's not going to happen.  I find it hard to fault people for not deciding which of the predicted problems was going to be correct, although that some of those people were within oil companies reduces my leniency a little bit.

For future generations, we have an obligation to provide for them the best groundwork we can while also acknowledging - and reminding them - we cannot provide for everything.  There are unlikely to be impossible problems, but there will be ones they were not ready for.  Maybe we could have!  But how were we to know Mexico was going to sink into the sea and thus a wall between America and Mexico would have prevented, or at least mitigated, the great Southern Flooding of 2143?  For example, of course!

But maybe I've been focusing on the wrong part of the text.  At the start Gandalf says Sauron is just a servant of evil.  Destroying Sauron will not end evil.  Perhaps nothing will.  While is right to give our descendants clean Earth and to try to avoid unforeseen consequences, if that is possible, the best preparation we can provide is to remind them evil will endure, and spring anew.  They will always have to fight - hopefully not every day, but within their lifetimes they should expect some kind of fight for good.  They must expect it.

Recently I've been recalling a saying:  There are those who think the world is bad, and all the joy a result of our labor, or the labors of others; and there are those who think the world is good, and all the pain a result of our labor, or labor of others.  I don't think either is particularly better - one encourages striving, the other encourages simplicity.  But both give you some sense of purpose and an expectation of where to focus your efforts.

While we should do all that we can to materially prepare the next generation, we should emotionally prepare them as well.  Evil isn't an enemy to be conquered, but an enemy to struggle against forever.  However much we wish it weren't the case.

This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


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Sunday, July 7, 2024

On immunity

I've tried to avoid writing about current events, but this week we encounter a convergence of events too ripe to ignore!

On Monday the Supreme Court ruled, in Trump V United States (God, that's an incredible name for  a real court case!) that American Presidents are given a hefty amount of criminal immunity for some of their actions during office after they leave office.  Thursday was July 4th, Independence Day.  While American independence was largely about a desire for the representative government which English subjects in England had had for centuries, it is now remembered as an ideological battle against monarchy.  A monarch, of course, has a lot of immunity for their actions.  And because they rarely leave without dying, post-reign prosecution is impractical.  On top of all that, our text this week has a lot to say about the duty to act against a leader sho is doing the wrong thing, something which is difficult to do when that leader has immunity.

This week we read a double portion, "The Pyre of Denethor" and "The Houses of Healing."  We'll be looking at the first of those chapters.

Previously, Denethor has taken Faramir's body to an underground area called Rath Dinen, where previous kings and stewards had been buried.  Denethor, convinced Gondor is going to lose the war, has decided to hurry his and Faramir's entombment.  Most of his guards assist him, but Pippin has fled to get Gandalf for help.  Pippin has by this time been been released from Denethor's service - it's not clear what he would have done if he were still bound to him, and it would be too easy to say he would have done the same.

But on his way to find Gandalf he finds his friend, Beregond, another member of the Guard.  He tells him Denethor has lost his mind, and urges him to do what he can to delay what's about to happen.  Beregond is uncertain what to do - it would be disloyal for him to leave his post.

That's where we last left our characters.  This week Gandalf and Pippin return to find Beregond has in fact acted.  He killed one guard to get inside and now stands in front of the door where Denethor and Faramir are, trying to hold off two other guards who are trying to get in with the torches Denethor ordered them to retrieve.  As they arrive, Denethor opens the door from behind Beregond, bearing his sword.  Gandalf sets himself in the middle of everybody and orders Denethor to stop what he's doing.

 ‘Since when has the Lord of Gondor been answerable to thee?’
said Denethor. 
‘Or may I not command my own servants?’
‘You may,’ said Gandalf. ‘But others may contest your will,
when it is turned to madness and evil.'

Gandalf then goes to the platform Faramir has been laid on (it is made of sticks, and he has been covered in oil) and picks him up and bears him away.  In response, Denethor snatches one of the torches brought by his guards, throws it on the platform, and lies down to burn.  He dies right then and there.

Gandalf turns to the loyal guards, who are horror-stricken at what's happened,

'You have been caught in a net of warring duties that you did not weave.
But think, you servants of the Lord, blind in your obedience, that but
for the treason of Beregond Faramir, Captain of the
White Tower, would now also be burned.'

Gandalf clearly uses the word treason ironically - it is not a stain on Beregond's reputation, but an honor.

The application to our current events is obvious - Denethor should have been stopped, and much earlier.  If he had survived, he should have been able to be tried for his actions.  Treason against a mad lord is sometimes justified.  Nobody is perfect, thus we must retain options to rebuke them.

But I do have complicated feelings about this ruling.  Given my interest in foreign policy and geopolitics, which are much more amoral than domestic issues, I do think Presidents should be immune from some prosecution.  My issue isn't so much "A President should be able to do what they want, without consequence," but that "if a President thinks they'll be punished, they now have a new cost to consider, and may act in their own interest instead of the nation's"  I think a lack of immunity does introduce a level of hesitation which may have severe consequences.

The main example I can think of is Obama's attack on bin Laden.  If that raid had gone poorly, with more civilian casualties, could he be prosecuted for their deaths?  If bin Laden had, in fact, not been there, could he be prosecuted for sending Americans into harm's way needlessly?  If those costs needed to be considered would he still have given the order?  It was 2011, he still had another term to win.  Failure, of course, could have been used against him in the 2012 election, and the success of that operation no doubt was a feather in his cap during that campaign.  But what if losing that election also could have led to him being tried in court, personally?  He might have acted differently.  He might have taken longer to weigh his options, and thus missed the opportunity.  If he missed the opportunity, could he have been tried for not acting?

I don't think a President should be personally liable for military action (or inaction).  I don't think it's a good idea, per se, and I think it would come with lots of other negative consequences.

And there are many more laws than we usually think about.  There are laws about how money gets spent.  Can a President be prosecuted for overspending, or understanding?  Or for reappropriating?  I'm sure there are also many more examples I cannot fathom, but which the Supreme Court know well.  While I obviously think our President should follow the law during their time in office, I don't think they should be punished for every example of law-breaking, because then it will be in our Presidents' interest to do as little as possible.  Moreover, the kinds of people who will want to become President will change, and I don't think a litigious, self-protective person will necessarily make a good President.  Immunity should be available, at least as long as some amount of good-faith exists.  But then how do we prove that?

But there's another issue with holding a President accountable for crimes they commit in office. The president doesn't do most of what they are responsible for.  Obama wasn't there when bin Laden was killed.  He didn't pull the trigger.  Similarly, Bush didn't lie to the UN about Iraq's weapons of mass destruction - Colin Powell did.  Trump, also, didn't try to steal the election - his followers did.  He didn't storm the capitol on January 6th.  He didn't organize fake electors.  How can we hold him responsible, legally, for what his followers did?  They all had agency, and he had no way to compel them to act if they didn't want to do those things.

To wit: Trump did call the Georgia governor and demand he "find 11,780 votes" and suggested not investigating would be a criminal offense.  When he refused Trump didn't do anything about it and nothing came of that threat.  It's grotesque, but I don't think it's actually illegal to tell somebody to commit a crime.  The threat is more within the realm of criminality, but Trump has a reputation of overblown rhetoric that I think he could reasonably get off if that was the only charge.

If the President, personally, shoots someone on 5th Avenue maybe they actually are immune to prosecution.  If they order someone else to do that, that's still illegal for that person.  Presidential immunity is not transferrable to their staff or followers.  The FBI still has to follow the law - the President is immune from prosecution, not the whole executive branch.  The American military also can't perform operations within the borders of America, though a declaration of martial law may change that.  The National Guard is a separate issue I don't know enough about.  I'd look it up, but this post is running along already.  Suffice to say I believe it would be illegal for any branch of the military to conduct any operations on American soil without some extraordinary legislation passing Congress, and then Presidential immunity is not longer the sole issue.

Most of what we are worried about Trump doing involves someone else doing it for Trump.  That person is not immune.  They could obviously be pardoned, though, if convicted federally, but of course there's the more immediate worry they'd have of someone attacking them in the moment.  If you shoot someone on 5th Avenue the promise of a Presidential pardon provides no protection NYPD's inevitable response.

The case for accountability is easier to make.  There should be limits on power, and enforcement of those limits.  But I do think the Supreme Court has a valid point that we don't want incoming Presidents to prosecute outgoing ones (and we certainly don't want them to campaign on that).  We also don't want Presidents to be overly concerned with their own legal jeopardy when making decisions.  Presidents who know going into the job that they must act in ways to protect themselves from even the most inane prosecution will not be the best kind of Presidents they can be - and those who choose to run will not be the best we can get.

We've had generations of Presidents who could be held accountable and we haven't devolved into dueling partisan trials.  I disagree with the Court we were on the cusp of that.  But I understand what they were trying to avoid.

The good news I'll say here is a President can still be impeached.  We should try to elect legislators that represent their state/district rather than to support/oppose the President according to their party affiliation.  But that's not going to happen just because those reading this blog decide to do so.  It must be a national, cultural change in how we understand the legislative branch, that their job is to not pass laws which the President can tout as achievements, or bring forward messaging bills when they're in the minority, but to represent the interests of their constituents.

I originally was going to write "Denethor benefited from his immunity," but he died on a pyre of his own making (Well, to drive the point home, his guards made it).  It is difficult to see that as a benefit.  Denethor would have benefited more from listening to the doubts of others, and to being open to their concerns over his own.  Denethor had the opportunity, but he didn't take it.  Then again, he lived his life above the rest of the people, and surely began to believe his position as Steward was deserved through merit, and not through bloodline.  He was the product of generational immunity - we shouldn't be surprised he couldn't simply shake it off.

Our future Presidents, as time goes on, will test the boundaries of this immunity more and more.  To be clear, I am not talking about Trump.  While he is a unique threat to our Republic, I think the real problems of this ruling will show themselves in 30-50 years, when we have a generation of Presidential hopefuls who grew up both wanting to be President and knowing Presidents have this kind of immunity.  When they cross a line - for surely there are lines - we must hold them to account.  However, that may set off the war of dueling partisan prosecutions this ruling sought to avoid.  I have no solution to that - to any of this.  But thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk out my thoughts.

Our text is clear - power is bad.  If so, unaccountable power must be worse.

This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


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Tuesday, July 2, 2024

On our response

This week we read "The Ride of the Rohirrim" and "The Battle of Pellenor Fields".  Finally, the Rohirrim arrive at Gondor.  In the ensuing battle, of course, comes one of the climaxes of our text:  The end of the Witch King.  The battle is won, but not without losses - Theoden is killed, crushed by his horse, Snowmane, which had been felled by "a black dart".

Theoden's body is taken to be buried at Edoras.  The Witch King's body, of course, has vanished without a trace.  As for their steeds, the men of Rohan and Gondor decide to give them last rites:

So they laid them apart from their foes and the fell beast and
set spears about them. And afterwards when all was over men returned
and made a fire there and burned the carcase of the beast; but for
Snowmane they dug a grave and set up a stone upon which was carved
in the tongues of Gondor and the Mark:
Faithful servant yet master’s bane,
Lightfoot’s foal, swift Snowmane.

Green and long grew the grass on Snowmane’s Howe,
but ever black and bare was the ground where the beast was burned.

We've spoken about this previously, how the beast is so foul even its destruction cannot fully undo its damage.  It's a powerful metaphor about the need for swiftness.  The longer evil persists, the more irreparable harm it might do.

But reading the text this time - 10 years later - I was struck by a different question.  What ruined the ground, the beast or the burning?  If Snowmane had been burned, would the ground also be "ever black and bare"?

These are not the intended results.  Snowmane wasn't buried to enrich (enchant?) the ground, and the beast wasn't burned to desecrate (curse?) the ground.  Snowmane was buried out of respect.  Snowmane fought on the winning side - which we also know to be the right side.  Respecting the body is an opportunity to show to everyone else that, if they fall in battle, even their animals will be treated with respect.  It will inspire them.

Similarly the beast is burned out of disdain, and perhaps confusion.  Text describes them as:

And behold! it was a winged creature: if bird, then greater than all other birds,
and it was naked, and neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast
pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers; and it stank.
A creature of an older world maybe it was, whose kind, lingering in forgotten mountains cold
beneath the Moon, outstayed their day, and in hideous eyrie bred this last untimely brood,
apt to evil. And the Dark Lord took it, and nursed it with fell meats, until
it grew beyond the measure of all other things that fly;
and he gave it to his servant to be his steed.

They're not sure what to do with it, and in the battle Eowyn beheaded it.  So they decide to burn it.  This is what we see the Riders of Rohan do with the Orcs they slew outside Fanghorn Forest.  It's their custom - a way to get rid of the bodies of the enemy.

But we know if we saw Orcs or any other servant of Sauron or Saruman burn the bodies of any Free Peoples we would be horrified.  They should be buried!  The text, too, would disapprove.  Whenever fire is used, it is usually a negative.  "Fire!" is what is called out when the Shire is under attack (we hear it in the story of the encroaching Old Forest, and we'll hear it again during the scouring).  The Rings, of course, were made by a great fire.  Saruman's explosives are ignited by fire.

Fire of course can have positive uses, like campfires, torches, the beacons of Gondor.  But it is generally a negative, which makes sense given the medieval setting of Middle Earth.  The dangers far outweigh the positives.  Even campfires can give away one's location.  And fire is very dangerous if it gets out of control.

The men who bury and burn make their choices intentionally.  Snowmane is to be honored, the beast is to be destroyed.  The ground is forever impacted by their choices.  But what if it was their choice, not the animal, which creates these diverging paths?

The Creative Wizard suggests the beast is "apt to evil," but this describes only a tendency.  It could be raised to be good.  We know Mordor takes horses from the Rohirrim for its own use, and while those horses are used for evil, they obviously aren't inherently so.  Burning the beast suggests something about the beast, itself, is irredeemable.

Of course, it is dead.  It's deeds are done and, if we were to count them, its evil would outweigh its good, even if we agree "bearing the Witch King" is a relatively minor form of evil, and one the beast may do without any awareness of the evil.  Sauron nursed the beast - how is the beast to know its master was evil?  It is possible for something to be "apt to evil" through ignorance.

Fire may be an analogy here for power.  Occasionally useful but usually ruinous.  We'd all be better off if we could minimize its use.

I think the men of Gondor and Rohan bear responsibility for the results of these last rites.  By using fire, they make the evil of the beast permanent.  Worse, they don't even mark the site.  Snowmane's grave is given a tombstone.  But they could at least make a sign like "The ground here, ever ruined by those the Dark Lord tamed, so we may never forget the cost of obeying evil."  Even if fire is the cause of the ruin, it would then be done with intention.

The lush grass and the dead earth are not signs of two beasts of different temperaments, but of responses to the end of the conflict.  If we try to purge the world of evil, and punish it even when it is already defeated, we will find many things wanting.  In a democratic society, if we determine some of our fellow citizens - or immigrants wishing to become citizens - are inherently evil or broken, or even if they simply have a dark aptitude, we'll soon become a democracy of the survivors.  And the winner gets to rule over the ashes.

This is especially important when deciding what to do when you win.  If an opponent is actively fighting against you and your values, fight back - but cleanly.  But if they surrender, or change their minds, or want to stop fighting and talk it over, we have an obligation to do the right thing, and not the thing that feels good.  "All men are created equal" does not mean, at their defeat, that equality evaporates.  We must punish cautiously and with purpose instead of passion.  Otherwise we risk stoking the flames of another round of the fight we only just won!

It would make for an ugly country for some patches of grass to be lush and yet for some to be barren.  Scars may tell us the past is real, but they are not the only way to record history.  And anyway, we must allow for the growth of a lush, green future, despite everything.


This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


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Sunday, June 23, 2024

On despair

This week we read "The Siege of Gondor," a chapter full of death and despair.  Faramir returns to the city but then is quickly sent back out by Denethor to disrupt the advance of the armies of Mordor, and though he valiantly attempts to do so, he ultimately is forced to retreat, and is even struck by a 'deadly dart,' which I think is supposed to recall Frodo's wound on Weathertop.  The effect is similar - Faramir collapses and only makes it back into the city protected by the others.  Frodo survived the wound with Elfish medicine, but the men of Gondor have no access to that.  Faramir's prognosis looks grim.

When the gate is surrounded and the siege is complete (does Gondor really have only one gate, to be besieged so easily?! Even Helm's Deep has secret passages which are alluded to) those inside begin to despair of their situation.  A guard, Ingold, says:

‘There is no news of the Rohirrim.  Rohan will not come now. Or if they come, it will not
avail us. The new host that we had tidings of has come first, from over the River by way of Andros
 it is said. They are strong: battalions of Orcs of the Eye, and countless companies of Men of a new
sort that we have not met before. Not tall, but broad and grim, bearded like dwarves, wielding great
axes. Out of some savage land in the wide East they come, we deem. They hold the northward road;
and many have passed on into Anorien. The Rohirrim cannot come.’

In a single paragraph Ingold's point has evolved three times.  First, it goes from no news of Rohan to certainly they will not come.  Then, they will not be able to help if they do.  Then, it is impossible for them to come.

He's not making a particularly long speech, where we might understand this kind of change - we've all experienced our minds changing as we describe a situation out loud.  But somehow his mind changes not once, but three times!  And always in the same direction: towards depair.

This is an example of catastrophizing.  Ingold pushes himself toward more and more desperate conclusions.  It is not enough for him to say he hasn't heard news of Rohan - he instead concludes it is impossible for them to come.  His mind pushes him towards that end.

We've all had this experience, or knows someone whose had it.  A funny look from a boss means they think they'll be fired.  A lack of sex in a relationship means a break-up is coming.  A couple of coughs are a suggestion of Covid.

It may seem as if preparing for the worst is just that - being prepared.  But over the course of a lifetime, as a regular response to regular things, it's a stressful way to live.  That stress sucks energy out of you which could be used for other things.  If you're not actually being fired, energy spent preparing to be could have gone to other things.

Later in our chapter the scope widens:  We're given an overview of two competing views within the city.  Both are grim, but the first at least tries to be optimistic.

‘Nay,’ they said, ‘not if the Nameless One himself should come, not even he could enter here while we yet live.’ But some answered: ‘While we yet live? How long? He has a weapon that has brought low many strong places since the world began. Hunger. The roads are cut. Rohan will not come.’

Here we see the second group has already moved past "no news" and is already saying Rohan will not come.  Next, they will say Rohan will not avail them.  Eventually, they'll say Rohan cannot come.

The optimistic group could try to do the same, but in truth what is there for them to be optimistic about?  "The city will not fall while we defend it, and we will defend it forever.  We'll find other food to eat and Rohan will open the roads soon enough"?  That's obviously nonsense and won't cheer anybody except a child.  There is worth in cheering children in hopeless situations, of course.  But adults?  We're supposed to be the problem-solvers, and even optimists should understand the reality of the challenge.

The situation is desperate, so we can't really blame people for turning to despair.  Further, the pessimistic group, if they fall in battle, can at least comfort themselves that they did not die a fool.  They knew this was coming.  I don't think that's something we should overlook.

This is called group polarization and is like catastrophizing but for a whole group.  But while personal catastophizing only adds stress to your life, here people can make connections with each other through their despair, giving further incentive to despair.  Given that despair is hopelessness, and hope is such an important part of an ethical life, we must resist it.  It would be different if such bad news stirred us to action - but it rarely does.

In addition to the despair in this chapter, I had also mentioned there is death:

And when Denethor descended again he went to Faramir
and sat beside him without speaking, but the face of the Lord
was grey, more deathlike than his son’s.

Faramir has been wounded by an evil weapon, but it is Denethor whose life appears to be failing.  In fact, the text pretty clearly tells us worry over Faramir's life is the product of rumor:

During all this black day Faramir lay upon his bed in the chamber of the
White Tower, wandering in a desperate fever; dying someone said,
and soon ‘dying’ all men were saying upon the walls and in the streets.

So here Denethor is succumbing to a rumor started by 'someone' (I think it's interesting this person isn't named, given the Creative Wizard's penchant for giving names and histories to various minor characters).  And it goes from his son is dying to Denethor then seeming as if he is the one dying.  Death does not usually spread in this way.

Despair is popular these days - being optimistic is seen as naive.  We have a rematch election most people don't want, a climate crisis, and several real (and imagined) genocides.  But our text teaches us that despair leads only to greater despair.  These people are not stirred to action - they are simply brought down by how much of a bummer things are.  Or they are moved to action which, if it does not cause immediate change, will lead them to conclude change is impossible.  An ethical cost of a society with a reduced sense of delayed gratification.

There is a way to avoid pessimism and despair while also not pretending our problems are easily solved.  For one thing, I think there's room between pessimism and optimism - one doesn't have to choose one or the other.  There also is good news in the world - it's just not popular to celebrate it.

The forces causing us to join in despair are strong.  Through social media it is a way to connect with people.  Surely I'm not the only person who has seen someone share bad news, been able to find a credible source debunking that bad news, but still decided not to share it.  Because I am a coward?  Surely that's part of it.  It's hard to go against the grain.  But I think there's something uniquely bad when that means "Let people despair - trying to cheer them up will just get them mad at you."

Life being bad is also reason for revolution, which provides a better sense of meaning than economic success, material comfort, and incremental success through policies passed through the democratic process.  Unfortunately, it also means we're looking for meaning in falsehoods.  

As for our texts, we know the deaths of those in Gondor will not be in vain (well, except Denethor).  As is a pattern we've come to expect, there is a eucatastrophe coming.  The forces of Mordor break the gate, and the Witch King and Gandalf have a confrontation around the splintered doors.  Suddenly, 

And... there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns.
In dark Mindolluin’s sides they dimly echoed.
Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.

Ingold and the others were wrong.  Preparing to die for their city was not what had to happen.  As long as they defend it, it will not fall - and they will be around to defend it for a long time.

I'm not sure what our "Rohan had come at last" moment will be.  We're not under an actual siege, so it's harder to know when enough help has come that we can reasonably let go of our despair.  But I do want to point out that the despair is undermined long before the battle is won.  There is still much to fight and die for.

But now they can do it with hope.

This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


ChatGPT contributed about 2% to this post's final version, because I couldn't remember the term "group polarization," and Google wasn't helpful.

Wednesday, June 19, 2024

On the cowardice of evil deeds

This week we read "The Muster of Rohan."  In this chapter, Theoden rides through his kingdom gathering what forces he can to ride to Minas Tirith's aid.  On his way he passes Edoras, where Eowyn has been organizing the return of the people.  Aragorn has recently ridden through and left her - breaking her heart.  Her despair is known to us, but none of the men around her.  Theoden greets him when he arrives,

'And you, Eowyn,’ said The'oden, ‘is all well with you?’ ´ ‘All is well,’ she answered;
yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied her, and he would have thought that she had
been weeping, if that could be believed of one so stern of face. ‘All is well.
It was a weary road for the people to take, torn suddenly from their homes. There
were hard words, for it is long since war has driven us from the green fields; but
there have been no evil deeds. All is now ordered, as you see. And your lodging
is prepared for you; for I have had full tidings of you
and knew the hour of your coming.’

Evil deeds and hard words seem to go hand-in-hand.  "Genocide" is a hard word, and of course is an evil deed.  Same with murder, hatred, war crime, violence, etc.  Most evil deeds, of course, are also hard words.  But this passage reminds us they can be separate.

Sometimes we must have hard woods in order to prevent evil deeds.  It is important to speak truthfully when our friends are wrong.  The word genocide, used well, can be used to prevent the deed.  Whatever violence someone thinks some words can be, expressing them in order to prevent physical violence must be preferrable.  But let's lower the stakes a bit.

As I write this I'm overhearing a conversation in the library between two people - the man is advising this woman on how to approach a stock broker who is recommending different investment opportunities.  He is suggesting she ask if the agent has any interest in the stocks.  She doesn't want to, and is worried about offending the agent.  He's asking why would the agent be offended if there's nothing wrong?  She is worried if she asks these questions she'll come across as untrusting.  He's worried if she doesn't she will be open to being taken advantage of.

I think he is right in this case.  It may be uncomfortable to ask, but if you're getting stock advice from someone who is paid by companies to sell their stock over other stock that's going to cause a lot worse than discomfort.  You at least deserve to know.  Hard words before taking the leap ensure you have more information, including that the person you asked seemed reluctant to answer or was forthright.  We must live in the world as it is, which means we are responsible for doing what we can to protect ourselves.

Uncomfortable conversations are, obviously, uncomfortable.  It is natural to want to protect ourselves from discomfort.  But we've all experienced "keeping it inside."  It doesn't feel good, it makes you madder, and nothing can get fixed that way.  If you don't use the outlet of hard words, you may eventually resort to the outlet of evil deeds.

And evil deeds can feel good.  We've all imagined doing the wrong thing as an outlet of our anger.  Less of us have committed them - I hope.  But doing evil deeds is, somehow, less uncomfortable than speaking hard words.  Punching a NAZI feels better than engaging with one verbally.  Cheating on your spouse is easier than telling them XYZ thing which has been weighing on you for a long time.  But it's obviously cowardly, too.  It's just avoidance.

Similarly it is cowardly to publicly call someone out rather than privately initiate a conversation to reach an understanding.

  • It is cowardly to go to war without trying to find a resolution through other means.
  • It is cowardly to exterminate another people rather than speak to them and search for connections and compromises.
  • It is cowardly to quit a job without first talking to your boss about the problem.

But many of these can be flipped

  • It is cowardly to accept peace at any cost, rather than wage a just war
  • It is cowardly to seek connections and compromises with those who seek to exterminate you or your values
  • It is cowardly to remain at a job forever because the reward of finding a better one comes with the risk of finding a worse one

Similarly: It is cowardly to avoid asking questions of a stock broker, and it is cowardly to hide conflict of interest from from your clients.

Obviously some things are simply better off avoided, and we don't need to solve or even confront every problem we run into.  But we shouldn't pretend it isn't cowardly, either.

Let's lower the stakes again to something I at least run into at least once a week:

Being hesitant to offend people is a good impulse, and we should always try to be aware of other peoples feelings.  But if the alternative is silence on an important issue, I think we're going too far.  And if we're worried about offending someone because we think it will offend them, we should consider we're actually projecting our own worries on them, and preventing an opportunity for a really excellent, meaningful coversation.

Offending someone in the course of normal conversation, is almost always worth the risk.  Obviously offending someone for the purpose of offending them is a different category of offense.  But whatever peace you keep between the two of you by remaining silent is offset by the disruption which stirs within you.  Maybe the disruption ends up being between you both; they may wonder why you didn't ask them about the elephant in the room.

Strong friendships are those where lines can be crossed, apologies can be offered, and lessons can be learned.  You spend so much time together and must learn how to co-exist that eventually you do develop a strong bond because of those earlier conflicts.  Whether its a friendship, a family, a club, a workplace or a neighborhood, this is true.

Of course, that conversation I overheard in the library was an example of hard words.  He could have assumed she was simple for not asking a basic question about conflict of interest.  She could have assumed he was nosy about everyone he worked with.  But having the conversation allowed them to air their grievances and worries about the situation, and even if nothing changes about the outcome, they've avoided carrying on an additional burden within each of them, which could lead to distance, resentment, or both.

Avoiding the conflict of hard words leads to the conflict of evil deeds.  The modern world offers us a lot of opportunities to retreat to communities and spaces which we know will meet our needs.  This abundance of avoidance gives us less incentive to be flexible.  We need more forced co-existence, where compromises must be made and a level of unhappiness must be expected.  Perfection will encourage us to refuse reasonable outcomes.  Give offense, take offense.  Anyone who cannot bear it, like a stock broker who doesn't want to be asked about their own financial interest, is not an honest dealer.  But you're not gonna find out by being polite.  To quote a great teacher, "Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!" An ethical life is a curious one.

(I can't seem to imbed links in my usual way, and while I didn't have many for this post anyway, how could I overlook an opportunity for this! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8jw_-Vh9Z0)

This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


ChatGPT contributed 0% to this post's final version.  That's probably gonna be the way of things for the rest of this cycle.  At this point it's incidentally become a nice declaration of humanism :)

Monday, June 10, 2024

On patience

This week we read "The Passing of the Grey Company."  In it, Aragon's kin from the north, the grey company, arrive in Rohan with an urgent message.  This message drives Aragorn to leave Rohan and take the paths of the dead, and there we see him rally the Oathbreakers to his cause.  Gimli and Legolas join him, but not before going on a detour with Merry to show him Helm's Deep.

‘There was a battle here three nights ago,’ said Gimli, ‘and here Legolas and I played a
game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how it was! And
there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them, Legolas, do you think?’
‘Nay! There is no time,’ said the Elf. ‘Do not spoil the wonder with haste!
I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day of peace
and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that
hour we eat, and then set out again, I hear.’ 

We've all had some wonder ruined by haste.  A landmark visited from which we were rushed off to see another.  A good meal eaten too quickly.  Legolas is reminding us that wonder's reward is not in the seeing, but also the appreciating.  Watching 100 movies in a year is impressive, but not as impactful on one's life as watching 10 and journaling about them.

Why is this?  Why is seeing not enough.  There does seem to be evidence evidence reflection adds genuine benefit to experience.  Perhaps it, more than the experience itself, instills meaning and creates memories.  Life should not be a series of check boxes.  You shouldn't do things just because you should.  You should do them and then make sure you have time to enjoy them.

Legolas and Gimli should not just see the Glittering Caves, they should take their time in them. Like a museum they should enjoy and embrace each work of art that draws them in.  Do something unique to remember them by.  I don't know - play hide-and-go-seek.

We often think of the ethical life as making the right choices, but I think it is also about living the fullest life.  It is ethical to enjoy the world.  Without enjoyment, what else is there?  Making the lives of others better, sure, but for what?  Life on its own is not enough.  People should live so that they experience joy - and that includes us.

I struggle a lot with this kind of check-boxing.  I do something to get it done - or, more positively, to be able to say I did it.  But this prevents me from experiencing real joy and connection.  I get like 10 news emails a day from different subscriptions.  I read many of them - not all.  But I think I'd be better off reading just 3 and thinking them over throughout the day, and maybe sharing my thoughts with friends, than reading 7 and just moving on to the next set the next day.

I think the key to such a plan is patience.  It takes patience to make deeper connection - the truest wonder in the world.  Not only can you ruin a friendship for a quick buck/reference/opinion, but hoping for a quick connection (to art, nature, work, a hobby, etc) will set one up for failure.  A quote I carry with me from an Orthodox Jew I knew, when I asked why they pray every day, because to me prayer often feels silly and empty: "Me, too.  But sometimes it all clicks, and I feel it.  So the more I pray, the more open I make myself to that occasional feeling."  That's also how I approach this blog.  Not all weeks are home runs - I know that.  But I can only nail the Big Ones by committing to the practice through the drudgery.

The key, then, is patience, and not expecting a regular reward.  Let the world be, and try to experience it on its own timeline, not your own.  You live in your own head enough, I bet.  True wonder is opening yourself up to the unknown.

This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


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Sunday, June 2, 2024

Three faces of pride

This week we read "Minas Tirith," the first chapter in Return of the King and one of my favorites.  Pippin (and through him, us), arrives in Minas Tirith, a city we've heard an awful lot about.  We finally gets to see it firsthand.  It's clearly past its prime (we're told the city is less populated than it had been and has the medieval equivalent of empty storefronts abound), but it is still a proud place.

Pride, like most things, can become a liability in excess.  Denethor is certainly full of it.  He learns Pippin was with Boromir when he died and questions him about all manner of detail.  We understand he wants to know about his son, but Gandalf points out there are more urgent issues to address.  He says:

'Do you think that I do not understand your purpose in questioning
 for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit by?’
‘If you understand it, then be content,’ returned Denethor. ‘Pride would
be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal
out such gifts according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor
is not to be made the tool of other men’s purposes, however worthy.

Denethor is so prideful he will not do what needs to be done if he thinks someone else is commanding him even if he agrees the cause is worthy.  He even acknowledges pride of this sort is folly, and yet he will 'disdai help and counsel at need'.

Later we meet Beregond, a guard in the city.  He is assigned to escort Pippin around when he isn't on duty.  Pippin is, of course, the first Hobbit ever in Minas Tirith (so much that he has to explain they refer to themselves as hobbits, not the more generic "halfling").  People are eager to meet him.

So Pippin went with Beregond and was made known to the
men of the Third Company. And it seemed that Beregond got as much
honour from it as his guest, for Pippin was very welcome.

Beregond doesn't seem bothered sharing the honors.  Indeed, he's not even the source!

Lastly we meet Bergil, Beregond's young son (He's something like 10-12).  Beregond's watch has begun and so he sends Pippin to find his son to spend time with him.  When Pippin meets him he doesn't believe he's not an adult and challenges him to a fight.  Pippin reveals he was sent by Beregond and Bergil crumbles,

"Then why did you not say so at once?" said Bergil,
and suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. "Do not tell me he
has changed his mind, and will send me away with the maidens!"

Pippin assures him this is not the case, and the two then become fast friends.

So we meet 3 different forms of pride.  Beregond's is obviously the golden mean.  It isn't always the ethical way to go between two choices, but it is here.  Let's briefly discuss the problem with the other two.

Denethor's pride is one that demands autonomy.  He will not be controlled by another.  His desire to command overrides his desire to win.

We can all relate, I think.  We like control.  Who hasn't said no because - and I don't care how old you are - your parent suggested something.  I've certainly heard about a show or book "too much" and refused to engage out of principle.  It's a dumb principle, but a principle it remains.

This sort of pride can drive us to loneliness.  We push others away in our desire to be free, and we lose community.  Then, maybe, we mistake loneliness for authentic freedom.  We must be alone - otherwise perhaps our lives might not be our own.  "Marriage is a ball and chain," or seeing a child as a burden and all that.  Autonomy is good (it's essential to ethically living), but community is the purpose of ethics.  It's not enough just to be good - it has to benefit others.

Bergil's pride demands recognition.  He tries to fight Pippin immediately.  He also recognizes the place of his father - we can imagine the fights they've had which led to this submission.  I don't mean physical fights (no need to get Oedipal), just regular parent/child struggles.  Given he is in the submissive role, he wants recognition whenever he can get it.  It doesn't matter if he loses another fight - he's already submitting to one person.  He just has to win one to get the recognition he craves.

The desire for recognition is within us all.  It is not enough to do a job well done - we also must have it known.  There are lots of ways for recognition to manifest - followers, money, friends, honors, subordinates - but we should be wary if that becomes the end-goal.  The point should be to get your money, followers, honors etc to do something.  They should not just be so many rocks in a collection.

It is good to feel pride in one's life - Especially in June! but make sure that pride is one you can share and celebrate with others instead of one derived from shutting others out or dominating them.

Denethor could have been more accepting of Gandalf's help.  His isolation will drive him to despair.  He can't conceive of a way in which he defeats Mordor - thus he consider it impossible.

Bergil could have been less aggressive about his unease with his place in the world (though most children, I think, are more like Bergil than not.  It's part of growing up).  What happens to him, though?  I'm not sure.  Bergil's not a character we've paid much attention to in the past.  Let's make an effort to do so when he comes back in a few chapters.  I'm curious to see what happens.  I really don't know...

This had been a patreon-supported project, but that proved too annoying to maintain.  If you would like to financially support this project, drop $1.11 (or any amount, I suppose) into my Venmo!


ChatGPT contributed nothing to this post's final version.