Biting off more than you can chew

When we imagine ourselves in epic stories with legendary characters, we often consider ourselves comparable to those greats.  You can be Aragorn or Gandalf.  Even Boromir, while coming up short, is a character of great renown.  But who imagines being a hobbit?

As we've seen, the hobbits are not particularly "fun" characters to be.  What I mean by that is:  Aragorn and Gandalf are strong and push the plot along.  If we were them, we would be given control over our destiny.  The hobbits are swept along by the plot.  Even the parts of the story where they seem to make choices, they are largely forced into that position.  When Frodo volunteers to take the Ring, he doesn't do it because he really wants to, he does because he knows it must be done, and apparently no one else will do it.  When Frodo leaves the Fellowship behind, he does it in reaction to Boromir's attempt to take the Ring.  Merry and Pippin stumble into Fangorn by accident, and aren't even particularly instrumental in urging the Ents to attack (Treebeard indicates he was just on the verge of calling the Ent Moot to deal with Saruman anyway).  Throughout the text, the Hobbits are just along for the ride.

This week's chapter is called "The Palantir."  After the confrontation between Gandalf and Saruman, Wormtongue threw something from the top of the Tower of Orthanc.  It's unclear whether he was trying to hit Saruman or Gandalf.  In any event, he misses them and the object falls into a small pool of water near Pippin.  Pippin goes to retrieve it.  It's a glass orb of some sort.  Gandalf rushes to him and takes it out of his hands.

Later, on their way back to Edoras, Pippin complains to Merry about how he was treated.  Merry reminds Pippin of what Sam used to say:  "Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards..."  Pippin responds,  "But our whole life for months has been one long meddling in the affairs of Wizards.  I should like a bit of information as well as danger."

That evening, Pippin is unable to sleep.  His mind is stuck on the orb (Which is the titular Palantir - a sort of crystal ball that allows far-reaching communication).  He sneaks out of bed, finds it, and looks inside it.  He is entranced by it.  Suddenly, he hurls the orb from his grip and falls with a shout.  The company is stirred, and Gandalf, seeing the orb rolling away, intuits what happened.

Pippin says he saw Sauron.  Sauron gave Pippin a message to give to Saruman, that "this dainty is not for him.  I will send for it at once."  Gandalf explains that Pippin's actions, while foolish, may have unforeseen consequences.  "The Enemy, it is clear, thought that the Stone was in Orthanc - why should he not?  And that therefore the hobbit was captive there, driven to look in the glass for his torment by Saruman... It may take some time before he learns his error.  We must snatch that time."

It would be easy to say the lesson here is even the smallest of us can have an impact.  Here, finally, a Hobbit makes a choice he could have refused.  And look how well it turns out!  But is it so good?

Pippin's stated desire was information.  He did not get much.  He and Merry already figured out Saruman had captured them (Instead of having them killed them as they had Boromir) because he knew the Ring was held by a hobbit, and so this is the 'dainty' Sauron describes.  There is little new information.  Meanwhile Sauron now believes it is Pippin, personally, who holds the Ring.  The danger of this is difficult to overstate.

Gandalf comforts Pippin as he recovers from the episode.  When it is clear Pippin is going to be alright he tells him: "If you will meddle in the affairs of Wizards, you must be prepared for such things."

Pippin absolutely does not get what he wants, and in fact gets far more of the thing he already believes he had too much of (Danger).  While his actions help the Free Peoples, it doesn't really help Pippin, personally.  Maybe hobbits are better off standing to the side...

While we like to imagine ourselves as great heroes, most of us are not.  Commoners is a better word.  And that's what the hobbits are - commoners.  And while we like to tell ourselves to be the hero in our story, the truth is a bit less grand.  The story of humanity is relatively short, and even Earth is pretty small compared to everything else.  And even if we are the hero of our story, that story is small.  We need to be aware of that.

If we're all Hobbits and the War of the Ring is the reality in which we live, this analogy would suggest that we should shrink back and let others take the reins.  The problem is there are very few people in the world who can read this text and honestly say, in this world, they are like Gandalf and Aragorn.  Most of us are like hobbits.  Most of us have small lives, limited power, and make choices that are largely dictated by events around us.

If all I say sounds somber and pessimistic, I'd challenge you to wonder why you think that.  I'm not saying our story doesn't matter - I'm saying it is small.  I'm not saying we're powerless, I'm saying we aren't omnipotent.  There's nothing wrong with living a small life, being happy, affecting change where you can.  But be aware of those limits.  You can't solve all the world's problems.  You can't even solve the problems of everyone you know and love.  Hell, you probably can't even solve every problem you have.  But that's no reason to despair.

We often compare our lives to an ideal that has never been the case.  Things were different 100 years ago, but they weren't necessarily better.  The world has never been perfect.  Your life has probably never been perfect.  I like my life - I like my job and my hobbies and my friends and am able to (barely) find time for them all.  But something could always improve my life (Like:  More time).

The universe is a big place.  Earth is small, your life is yet smaller.  But that doesn't make it unimportant.  However, and here's the crux, you need to understand what is within your capacity and what isn't.  Pippin did not understand what he was doing - that it worked well for his friends is happy chance.  As Aragorn says to Merry, who later chastises Pippin, "If you had been the first to lift the Orthanc-stone, and not he, how would it be now?  You might have done worse.  Who can say?"  Pippin did not succeed due to any skill on his own part.

It is important to appreciate what we have and what changes we can affect.  But it is tempting to try to reach beyond our means.  And I have nothing against that - I try to do it myself from time to time.  Sometimes you make it and sometimes you don't.  But, "if you will meddle in the affairs of Wizards, you must be prepared for such things."  You must be prepared for results beyond your comprehension, and for effects you had no desire to have.  Pippin was not ready, though perhaps he is now.

Perhaps you're someone more adept to leaping into mystery.  That's for you to decide.  But one thing can be said for certain: Go with little hope of being able to predict how things will go.  You'll have to expect the unexpected, and then be able to react when something even more unexpected happens.

Hopefully you will succeed, or at least not make a mess.  Still, Gandalf has one more lesson for us.  He says to Pippin, "If you will meddle in the affairs of Wizards, you must be prepared for such things.  But come!  I forgive you."  If someone reaches, misses, and makes a mess, we can follow this example, and forgive our friends who were only trying too hard.  And hopefully they will forgive us when we do the same.

The importance of providing a way out

This week’s chapter is called “The Voice of Saruman.”  In it, we finally meet Saruman himself (Up to this point, though the text has given us many stories and rumors about him, we have not actually encountered him in the narrative).  The chapter title refers to his most powerful weapon – his voice.  He is able to cast a spell on anyone with his voice – his words will seem reasonable while the advice of all others will seem to be lacking.  In fact, we see this power being used, as Theoden’s Riders are temporarily bewitched.  They begin to doubt all the words of wisdom Gandalf has given them, even though those words directly lead to their victory at Helm’s Deep.  Saruman’s power is strong, indeed.

By now, Aragorn and the others have caught up to Gandalf and Theoden.  As they approach the Tower of Orthanc (Saruman’s stronghold, and really the only building in Isengard that survived the Ent’s attack (it’s heavily enchanted; The Ent’s attacked it, but found they could not damage it)), Gandalf says, “There is no knowing what he can do, or may choose to try.  A wild beast cornered is not safe to approach.”

The truth of this is obvious.  What will a wild beast do when cornered?  What won't a wild beast do?  When one has no rational options, all options are available.  This seems both paradoxical and self-evident.  It is why we cry when we are overwhelmed with sadness.  It is why we despair when we feel helplessly confused.  It is why children who are bored or frustrated act out.  In a sense, crime can be explained this way.  If there’s no other way to acquire food (or money for food), theft becomes an option.  If legal routes do not exist, illegal ones will be found.

I don’t mean to excuse this behavior – merely to explain it.  Often, the issue isn’t that rational options don’t exist, but rather that they are not seen, (or are ignored).  There is a large gap between being angry someone refused to repay a debt and murdering them over it.

“A wild beast cornered is not safe to approach,” but sometimes an angry person must be approached.  How can we make things more safe?  We can bring shields and swords and cell phones set to call 911, but these only protect us from the “beast.”  They don’t tend to the needs of the angry person at all.  If they throw a punch and we deflect it, they will only throw another one.  Increasing our own security doesn't defuse the situation.

To do that, we must reduce their level of helplessness.  Show them alternative routes.  Give them back some degree of autonomy.  Help them ‘save face,’ as it were.  Machiavelli (or was it Caesar?) said that while one must be ruthless in battle, one should be merciful in victory.  It is how one makes friends out of enemies.  Acknowledge their valor, and give them the chance to lay down their arms on their own terms (Or pledge to follow you).  And this applies far beyond the battlefield.

I once had a very serious conflict with a colleague.  It got to the point where we were called to sit before our director and state our cases.  The director sided with me, and my colleague left the meeting very frustrated.  I had won – but what good did that do if it caused a schism in our staff?  I wondered what to do.

A few days later that colleague found me in the break room and asked if she could speak to me.  She apologized for the way she had acted and asked if I could forgive her and if we could move on.  No acknowledgment I had been right at all - she just wanted to move forward.

I could have been angry – I could have cornered her.  I could have insisted she admit I was right, or at least apologize for causing such a fuss.  But here was a chance to exercise some mercy.  I apologized for the vitriol our argument had caused and pointed out that we had worked together before, and that we could easily continue to work together.

I had won the battle.  No need to rub it in.  And there’s no need for acknowledgment from her, either.  The director had agreed with me – my job now was to get back to work.

The above situation resolved amicably because, even in defeat, my colleague had autonomy.  A cornered beast has none, or rather, a cornered beast can only display autonomy through acts of tremendous destruction, which only increase the need to keep it cornered it.  Like a balloon you are squeezing: Even if there’s a small hole, if you squeeze it too tightly, it may still burst.  Yet another hole might be needed.

Victory over someone, or something, is useless if it uses its death throes to destroy you.  The point of victory is not to defeat something – it is to enable something else.  The Roman Empire (It was Caesar, definitely Caesar) did not squash foreign provinces for sport, nor even to deny their enemies resources.  They mostly wanted use of its land or wealth.  Provinces could capitulate and the Romans would be just as happy – perhaps even happier, now that their men don’t need to risk their lives.

A war with the Romans was much like a business transaction.  If you won, you could keep your goods (Though you’d probably be attacked again and again until you lost).  If (when) you lost, you were expected to give up some of your goods, but your way of life was generally kept intact (The story about Carthage is a legend created in the 1800s).  They didn’t particularly care how you made the money, just as long as you paid.  Only refusal to pay would lead to complete obliteration.  A cornered beast is not safe to approach, but if it insists on being cornered, if it refuses to take the options open to it, then if you hope to defeat it, you must be willing to act just as irrationally as it will.  The Romans gained very little from obliterating their enemies.  While it may make them a more feared empire, it undercuts the reputation they were trying to cultivate:  One of a powerful, but reasonable, empire.  It was more profitable to deal with defeated enemies.

Such as it is with us.  While obliterating our enemies into dust may feel good, there is little to be gained, and much to lose.  While a reputation of destroying those who get in our way may scare people into giving us our way, it breeds resentment, and many may plot to bring you down.  It is better to, upon victory, enlist defeated enemies in your cause.  Give them something productive to do.

In this, you not only recognize the ability of people to change, but enforce that the difference is ideological, not personal.  This encourages others to consider, in defeat, to submit to your way.  The longer you fight, the more they will lose.  Further, getting others truly on your side increases your ranks.  You might be able to win based on numbers.  Let your opponent become part of the winning team (your team!)

A wild beast cornered is not safe to approach.  But the solution is not to defend yourself.  Do not bring weapons and armor or overwhelming force.  Instead, bring escape routes and provide ways to save face.  Let your opponent have some autonomy, and you may be surprised where they choose to go.

Repairing bridges

We come now to our third double-portion:  "The Road to Isengard" & "Flotsam and Jetsam.". These chapters follow the aftermath of the battle of Helm's deep.  Gandalf leads Theoden and his men to Isengard.  Gandalf claims Saruman has already been defeated, and that "We go to a parley, not to a fight.".  The previous chapter ends with a forest mysteriously appearing on the plains of Rohan.  Mindful readers will recall Merry and Pippin marched to war with the Ents, who are tree-herders.  Their target was Isengard.  But has Isengard truly fallen?

These chapters are a chance for the Creative Wizard to flex his narrative muscles.  While we can discuss missed opportunities, here the narrative is laid out expertly.  If I may stray a moment to describe it:  We see Isengard from the point of view of the approaching riders, tired from war.  They notice every suspicious thing, and are afraid of creeping shadows.  They are dismayed at the Isen, which has dried up.  They are shocked when, before their very eyes, the waters return.  We see many events, but are unable to discern their purpose and source.  We, like the riders, are nervous.

Even when they arrive at Isengard and are greeted by friends, we see them from their point of view. 

 

Suddenly they were aware of two small figures lying on [the rubble] at their ease...

One seemed asleep; the other, with crossed legs and arms behind his head,

leaned back against the broken rock and sent from his mouth long wisps and

little rings of thing blue smoke...  Amid all the wreck of Isengard this seemed

to them the strangest sight...  A young man he looked, or like one,

though not much more than half a man in height... 'Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!'

He said.  'We are the doorwardens.  Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, is my name."

 

Of course, the figures described are Merry and Pippin.  At this point the narrative switches to the point of view of the hobbits.  Things begin to become clearer:  Isengard has been defeated.

 

In the next chapter, Merry and Pippin describe what has happened to them since we last saw them.  In doing so, all the strange events from the previous chapter are uncovered.  The forest that appeared on the plains was sent by Treebeard to aid the Rohirrim.  The creeping shadows are Hourns (a particularly dangerous type of Ent), which were hunting any orcs that had survived.  The Isen returned to its flow because the Ents had released the dam Saruman created.  Reading the first chapter over again, it seems so obvious.  But the text is written such that, without this information, the events are mysterious and creepy.  Is Saruman still in control?  What new dangers will he unleash?   Yet with this knowledge, everything is suddenly, and simply, explained.  This is truly great writing.

 

While the first chapter follows Theoden and Gandalf on their way to Isengard, at the start of the following chapter, they leave to find Saruman among the ruins while the text sticks with the reunited friends.  In the grand scheme of things, their reunion will not affect the fate of Middle Earth.  However, we know these characters and care.  But in the end it is just flotsam and jetsam, right?

 

When students at my school have conflicts - and they do - we have a prescribed method to resolve it.  The peace path.  The child that feels hurt expresses their hurt and the other child acknowledges it.  Then the child asks "What can I do to make it right?" Many children say 'don't do [that thing] again.'. That's fine, but that doesn't fix anything.  I usually insist they request some kind of action - an apology, a hug, a high five - from the offending party.  Promising not to do something again is the minimum.  But that doesn't "make it right."

 

The imagery I use is this:  A bridge was broken between the two students.  Promising not to do that action again doesn't fix the bridge.  That requires hammers and nails and boards and cranes and screwdrivers, etc.  It's harder to fix it than to not break it again.  But in order for the promise not break it again to have any meaning, it must be fixed.  Otherwise, you still have a broken bridge.

 

The hobbits have been separated from the hunters, and now they are reunited.  But it isn't enough for them to just reunite.  They need to reestablish the bond that they had.  The whole of the chapter is about this reestablishment.  How do you reestablish a friendship?  Through chatter, through catching up.  It is flotsam and jetsam... to anyone not involved.  This will not affect the fate of Middle Earth, but that doesn't mean it isn't important.

 

There are two steps to mending any relationship, whether broken by a cruel action or by distance and time.  The first is to acknowledge that something is broken.  But it is not enough to acknowledge.  The second, and harder, step is to repair the damage.  Taking active, concrete steps to reestablish what was lost.

 

We all in our lives have experienced relationships that breakdown due to various reasons.  While some relationships are beyond fixing, and perhaps need to be severed, many good relationships also suffer problems.  Acknowledging those problems is a good first step.  But unless we work to fix what is broken, we're still only going to have a broken bridge.

Breaking Bias

"Ride to Helm's Deep!  Go not to the Fords of Isen, and do not tarry in the plain!

Shadowfax must bear me now on a swift errands...Await me at Helm's Gate!  Farewell!"

"What does that mean?"  Said one of the guard to Hama

"That Gandalf Greyhame has need of haste," Answered Hama, " Ever he goes and comes unlooked for."

"Wormtongue, were he here, would not find it hard to explain."  Said the other.

"True enough," Said Hama, "But for myself I will wait until I see Gandalf again."

"Maybe you will wait long."  Said the other.

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This chapter is called "Helm's Deep," and it recounts the riding of the Rohirrim to Helm's Deep, an ancient fortress.  This chapter also recounts the entire battle, which is much shorter in the text than as portrayed in the films.  It lasts from a little after dusk right until dawn.

When they first leave Edoras, however, they are not headed towards Helm's Deep.  They were going to Isen (the river which forms the border of Rohan and Isengard), in hopes of reinforcing a Rohirrim stronghold there.  Ideally, they can hold Saruman's armies from even crossing the river.  The leader of this stronghold is named Erkenbrand.

On their way there, they are intercepted by a fleeing Rohirrim, who says the crossing fell and that the river is being overrun by Saruman's armies.  "Erkenbrand has drawn off those men he could gather towards his fastness in Helm's Deep."  It is at that point Gandalf gives the command this post begins with.  But who is this doubter, the one who prefers the words of Wormtongue (Whose very name should instill doubt in anything he says)?

First, let us begin with who is Hama, the one who shows trust in Gandalf?  In last week's post we focused our talk on the demand that our companions set aside their weapons.  Hama was the guard on duty enforcing that rule.  However, when it comes to Gandalf's staff, he waivers.

The guard still hesitated.  'Your staff.  Forgive me,

but that too must be left at the doors.'

'Foolishness!' said Gandalf.  'Prudence is one thing,

but discourtesy is another.  I am old.

If I may not lean on my stick as I go, then I will sit out here...'

'The staff in the hand of a wizard may be more than a prop for

age,' said Hama.  He looked hard at the ash-staff on which

Gandalf leaned. 'Yet in doubt a man of worth will trust to his own

wisdom.  I believe you are friends and folk worthy of

 honor, who have no evil purpose.  You may go in.'

It is Gandalf's staff which allows him to defeat Wormtongue (A servant of Saruman, who had infiltrated the King's court, posing as an advisor) and break the spell that had been placed on Theoden.  It's unclear what would have happened if Hama had insisted - but he did not.  Hama trusted Gandalf.

And we know Gandalf, so we know Hama is right to trust him.  This nameless guard seems foolish.  But let's try to see things from his point of view.  He is very familiar with Wormtongue, who always has an explanation.  Gandalf often acts without explaining.  Hama trusted his gut, but this guard needs more than that.  Can we blame him?  He saw an advisor he trusted completely defeated by this dangerous wizard.  A wizard whom, the last time he came by, left on bad terms with his beloved king.  Now, suddenly, the king listens to him.  Is it so surprising that this guard remains suspicious - as if Theoden has been put under a spell?

It is difficult for this man to put his trust in Gandalf - he would rather take Wormtongue's explanations.  He can understand logical explanations, and that's what he wants.  He doesn't need to believe in Wormtongue.  Wormtongue explains his actions, and these explanations make sense in the guard's head.

Unfortunately, the brain is a notoriously awful tool (and sometimes actively sabotages you).  And logic doesn't always work either.  There are limits.  For example, in the previous chapter, when he is still under Saruman's spell, Theoden says to Gandalf, "You have ever been a herald of woe.  Troubles follow you like crows." Since trouble follows Gandalf, Theoden reasons that he must bring it.  But this is rather like saying police departments are larger where there is more crime, therefore police departments cause crime.  Trouble follows Gandalf because he is faster than it, and he comes before it arrives to give warning.  But we can see the logic in wrong conclusion.  It is wrong, but it isn't illogical.

Trusting our gut is an important skill in society.  We admire those who do it.  Trusting your gut, essentially, means doing what feels right.  Unfortunately, we have all sorts of cognitive biases that shape our decisions.  What feels right may not, in fact, be right.

The two biases I want to highlight here are belief bias and confirmation bias.  Confirmation bias is the one people are probably more familiar with - it's the tendency of people to get their information from sources that will only confirm their point anyway.  This leads to situations where you think you've heard the information from a dozen sources, but in reality they are not so diverse.

For example, a few years ago in Alaska my then-girlfriend's mother was telling me how Obamacare was going to destroy America.  I remember her saying, "Everyone I know agrees."  I asked her where these friends of hers were getting their information.  She said Fox.  I told her, "Well, then you really only have one source.  Everyone is just repeating that information, but that doesn't make them individual sources.". She admitted that that made sense.  I don't think I convinced her to rethink her position, but that wasn't the point.  The point was to recognize, if everyone listens to one news source, you don't suddenly have a dozen additional sources.  You still only have one.

The internet, of course, makes confirmation bias even easier.  You can easily pick and choose your news.  I find myself falling into a trap where, when someone posts a study with a conclusion I disagree with, I find a study that backs up my own opinion.  "Ah!" I think arrogantly, "Now we have two studies - now we can really debate!"  In fact, this doesn't add anything productive to the conversation.  I didn't read their study, and nor will they read mine.  I will say theirs is wrong and they will say mine is wrong, based only on the conclusion, regardless of the methodology.  Which brings us to the next bias...

Belief bias is the bias that causes you to dismiss whole arguments based on their conclusion.  If you disagree with the conclusion, you will assume the study is wrong.  Do you think religion is the main cause of war throughout history?  You will immediately dismiss this academic encyclopedia proving otherwise.  Do you think violent video games don't contribute to violence in our culture?  You'll want to ignore this compelling argument showing that they do.  It doesn't matter what the facts say - our gut (which is to say: our biases) disagrees.  This is like someone insisting the Sun revolves around the Earth, because that's what they see literally every day.  Science doesn't matter, it goes against their experience (which is what shaped their biases).

If biases are based on experiences, then changing the bias of another person is nearly impossible.  If twenty years of living has shown them only untrustworthy Mexicans (or the perception that they are untrustworthy through media such as news and TV and movies), logic and reason will not suddenly show them the way.  They will need to have a lot (a lot) of experiences showing them otherwise.  Unlike Gandalf in our text, we have no magic staff.

For example, I grew up in a town where I never saw a homeless person.  I saw them in the city, but we always avoided them on walks.  In school I learned to give them money and pity them, but I also learned (through my own experience as well as media) that they were dirty and dangerous and would probably only buy drugs with that money anyway.  Since then, I've learned the situation is way more complicated.  But while I intellectually understand things better, when I see homeless people on the street, my gut reaction is to avoid them.  Even though I know better.

So what can we do?  We can't change the minds of others, and providing them new experiences, while certainly a positive move, takes a lot of time and effort.  But we can be more aware of our own biases, and look at them critically.  I still get that gut reaction to want to avoid homeless people, but I am less likely to follow it blindly.  Is that person sitting on the ground, or pacing on the sidewalk?  I can walk by them.  Is that person shouting at cars or shadowboxing?  Yeah - I'm justified in my desire to avoid them.

We are often Hama, speaking to that nameless 'other', fruitlessly trying to convince them of a gut feeling we have but cannot share.  We instinctively trust something, but they do not (and perhaps with logical reasons).  "But don't you know you're listening to someone named Wormtongue!  Are you blind?"  You can wait for them to come around to our point of view, but "maybe you will wait long."

And so, rather than place our hope that others will come around to our way of thinking, we should put the yoke upon ourselves, and look critically at our own biases.  Maybe then we can understand their struggle better.  After all - how can we ask them to question their own biases if we are not willing to do the same.  No doubt they hear some of our beliefs, and hear us only shouting "Wormtongue," and wonder at our blindness.

How to fight a winning battle

This week's chapter is called the "King of the Golden Hall."  The Golden Hall is Meduseld, the king's hall in Edoras, capital of Rohan.  The king is Theoden.  In this chapter, the true nature of the Rohirrim is finally revealed.  I mentioned earlier that it is unclear to whom Rohan has pledged it's allegiance.  Even in meeting with Eomer, things are not so clear to us.  Eomer had been banished.  Maybe he was banished for being the only person who wanted to fight orcs.  There's little telling what to expect.

Our four companions ride to Edoras to see the king.  When they arrive, they are not welcome.  The guards speak to them abruptly in Rohirrim.  "[Gandalf] answered in the same language, 'I understand your speech, yet few strangers do so.  Why do you not speak in the Common Tongue, as is the custom in the West, if you wish to be answered.' 'It is the will of Theoden King that none should enter his gates, save those who know our tongue and are our friends.'"

So things are not off to a great start.  The Rohirrim are very suspicious and already on high alert.  And although Gandalf manages to get an audience with the king, one more barrier remains.  They are asked to put their weapons aside, and that none will be allowed in front of the king armed.  There is a struggle similar to the one seen in Lothlorien.  The companions do not wish to go unarmed.  None but Gandalf have ever met Theoden, and he did not leave on such good terms.  It is no wonder they wanted to hold on to their weapons.  But Gandalf prevents any kind of argument.  "A king will have his own way in his own hall, be it folly or wisdom." So they leave their weapons behind.

A simple application to our modern times might be the parental refrain:  You live in my house, you follow my rules.  Of course, this mentality goes far beyond the struggle between generations.  There are countless scenarios in which we must follow the rules of others.  I'm not even talking about one person dictating rules - I mean social norms.  Society has determined certain things to be "the way" (either by overt decision or just by communal habit).

For example, have you ever considered how you conduct yourself in an elevator?  You look towards the door, or possibly up at the display to see what floor you're on.  You rarely look others in the eye - even if you know them and are talking to them.  And you never stand facing the back.  The reason doesn't really matter, by the way; Society has deemed it right to face the doorway, be it folly or wisdom.

I was going to draw comparisons to that Arizona bill, but it has since been vetoed by the governor. So I must change my tune a little.  That battle is over.  However, in doing my research for this topic, I came across this excellent no-nonsense New York Post article.  Please read it.  I'd also advise you to read this excellent piece from The Onion.

The main part of the NY Post article I want to emphasize is this:  "But the market has a ready solution:  There are other bakers, photographers and florists.  The wedding business is not exactly bristling with hostility to gay people.  If one baker won't make a cake for gay weddings, the baker cross town can hang a shingle welcoming all couples..."

This isn't another Jim Crow era.  Racism back then worked so well because it was so prevalent.  Entire cities were blanketed with it, and fighting racism could land you in jail.  While Fox News does an excellent job in exciting it's base and terrifying us, it represents a very small minority of the country (Their audience tends to be old and with less formal education).

The risk of you going to jail protesting homophobic laws is minimal, and the only media that is going to disparage you for doing so is the same media that was supporting those laws in the first place.  There are no surprises.  And while that demographic will be loud and rude, they are small and they will lose.  We are seeing the death throes of a movement.  Some innocents may be hurt by the thrashing, but the cause is basically already won.

"But - a king will have his own way in his own hall, be it folly or wisdom.  I can do whatever I want in my privately owned business."  This is surely the argument the other side takes. And if someone is conducting their business in a way that morally repulses you...... vote with your feet.  And vote with your wallet.  Do you think Chick-fil-a regrets for a moment the controversy over their CEO's statement?  They got such an astounding boost to business by people who......... wanted to show they also oppose gay rights.......... by eating chicken?

We must, at least according to that NYPost article, do the same.  We are in a different battle than we were in the 50s and 60s, though it is all civil rights.  The anti-gay demographic is sparsely spread out, but very focused, dots.  They are cut off from the world, existing in their little islands, connected to other islands via the internet and Fox News (And conservative talk radio).  They live, as far as information goes, in a completely different world.  They don't see themselves the oppressors - they find themselves to be oppressed!

But is that so ridiculous?  I don't think so.

Read that Onion article again.  It's brilliant, as the Onion is at its best.  This must be exactly what the other side feels about us.  And it is exactly how we feel about them.  And who are we to say "We're right so shut up and respect people," when they think that, if they do, they are literally burning in hell for all eternity.  We're ignoring a huge part of their sense of self.  We can't expect them to shed the religion that has guided them their whole lives.  That's grossly unfair and dogmatic of us.

They are isolated because they only have a few media outlets that speak to their views.  That's why we can say "Fox News & Rush Limbaugh" but they have to say "Mainstream media."  They are literally in a battle with EVERYONE ELSE.  Of course they feel overwhelmed.  But cornering a bull only enrages it...

I wish I knew the answer.  My final thoughts are this:  While a king will have his own way, these private businesses are not royal halls.  They are but chambers in a much larger hall, and that hall is America.  And America has decided, like with elevators, that there is a right thing to do, and a wrong thing to do.  Be it wisdom or folly (It's wisdom), the population has decided in favor of gay rights.

However.  However.  America is a country of dissidents and a nation of underdogs.  It's uncomfortable for anyone to be on top.  Even the richest of the rich feel under attack.  In America, you are always trying to win, but you cannot have won.  "Always be closing."  Always be fighting.  But what if you've won?  We don't know what to do with winners.  So everyone paints themselves as the underdog.

But the truth is, we're not.  We've won.  We've walloped the other side, even as they take potshots at us.  We've won.  And they live in our hall, so they must obey, be it wisdom or folly.

Except that gay rights isn't the end-all.  Gay rights isn't what America is about.  Gay rights have their place in America, and equality is a pillar of America, but neither of those things rule America.  What rules America, and we're gonna get a little real here, isn't a right to privacy or the right to free speech or a right to healthcare.  It's money.  We have decided, as a society, that money is power.  And while we may dislike it, it is true.  That's why groups need to fundraise - because without money, their purpose is already defeated.  Money rules the halls of America, be it wisdom or folly.

In that case, the best solution is to deny our opponents money and give it to our allies.  Thus we come full circle: "But the market has a ready solution:  There are other bakers, photographers and florists.  The wedding business is not exactly bristling with hostility to gay people.  If one baker won't make a cake for gay weddings, the baker cross town can hang a shingle welcoming all couples..."

We live in a society ruled by money.  And while we may not like it, we may disagree with it, we may even be repulsed by it, it is true.  A king will have his own way in his own hall, be it wisdom or folly.  Those who wish to affect change in the hall must follow those rules.  Such as it is with our society.  We can call moral imperative, we can shout about "the right side of history." But if we really want to affect change, we must play by society's rules.  Which means money.

If we outlaw something our opponents can view themselves as mavericks.  If society turns against them, they can view themselves as the last defense for traditional values.  But if we deny them money, they'll become powerless.  And if money is power, spend yours wisely.  Vote with your wallet, and spend with your conscience.

Doing bad for the greater good

I am a big House of Cards fan.  Whether or not it is how business in Washington really gets done, it is how I would like to picture it.  If all politics is theatre, it is refreshing to see what happens backstage.  It is nice to be able to believe that, despite the chaos we see on camera, there is order in the background - or at least excessively wise and meticulous characters trying to construct order.  Those who find the characters morally repugnant, I think, miss the point of the show.  If they tried to do good at every turn, they would accomplish very little.  While they are putting their own moral standing in question, they are fighting for larger progress.  As the tagline of the show says, they are "Doing bad for the greater good."

This week's chapter is called "The White Rider."  In it Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli enter Fangorn and find, much to their surprise, Gandalf, who has returned from his battle with the Balrog.  Gandalf tells them Merry and Pippin are safe, and that they have been found by Treebeard, who will look out for them.  At this, Gimli speaks up:

'But you speak of [Treebeard] as if he was a
friend. I thought Fangorn was dangerous.'

'Dangerous!' cried Gandalf.  'And so am I, very dangerous

more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought

before the seat of the Dark Lord.  And Aragorn is dangerous,

and Legolas is dangerous.  You are beset with dangers,

Gimli son of Gloin, for you are dangerous yourself!

Because we've spent the whole story on the same side as Gimli, et al, it doesn't occur to us to call them dangerous.  They don't pose any threat to the Quest.  It is the Nazgul, the orcs, Saruman who are truly dangerous.  But not our heroes - they are acting selflessly in order to save the world.  The only reason 'danger' comes to our mind is because other things are trying to kill them!  They are the ones in danger.

But that viewpoint is very narrow.  The whole reason they're able to defeat their enemies is because they are dangerous.  Capable, strong, resilient, determined and dangerous.  We mourn the passing of Boromir, but hardly bat an eyelash when a whole horde of Uruk-Hai are killed by the Rohirrim.  After all, they're just getting what's coming to them, right?  But a death is a death.

It comes down, really, to this: Heroes hurt bad guys.  As that article notes:  "The troops are heroes. They protect our freedom. They're making the great sacrifices so we don't have to."  While the previous sentence may be true, surely that isn't the only way to protect our freedom.  There are doctors, who help us live longer (it is hard to be free if you are dead).  There are diplomats who prevent wars in the first place.  But these people are not seen as heroes, certainly not with the same vigor.  We can debate whether doctors or diplomats are heroes.  The troops just are.  If you even attempt to debate it, you have already lost.

And yet, we don't view our troops as dangerous.  They are heroes, willing to put their lives before our own.  Willing to go to the far reaches of the globe while we stay home, protecting us against threats we don't even know exist.  They are entirely selfless.  And while that may be true, it overlooks a major point.  Part of their job is, inherently, hurting people.  Bad people, yes, but people nonetheless.  Deaths are deaths.  And even if the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun, a gun is still involved.  Even if you know what you're doing, a gun is dangerous.  Hell, a gun is dangerous because you know what you're doing.  A toddler with a gun is a very bad idea.  A trained marksman with a gun, however, is far more capable.

So it is with our heroes.  We do not idolize Gandalf and the Hunters because they are peaceful - we idolize them because they are capable of stopping the Enemy.  And the Enemy is dangerous.  And so they must be, too.  They must be.  If they weren't dangerous, if they weren't capable of fighting the Enemy, Middle Earth wouldn't have a chance.

In our society now, danger is seen as inherently bad.  Criminals are dangerous.  Police are not.  And if you call them dangerous, you are not saying it in praise.  But if criminals are dangerous, our police must be dangerous, too.  Otherwise our police wouldn't be able to stop them.  

This chapter challenges us to rethink what it means to be dangerous.  Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of justice.  And justice requires hard work.  You do not achieve justice by never fighting - you do it by forging connections.  And this work, sometimes, requires fighting an Enemy.  And, sadly, you cannot always kill 'em with kindness.  Sometimes, heroes have to hurt bad guys.  But we can't call them brave for facing the bad guys and call it a day.  After all, if the bad guys had killed our heroes, we wouldn't call them brave, and yet they would be.  Anyone who decides to square off against Gandalf must be brave.  

I'm not saying we need to revere our opponents as much as we do our own heroes.  I'm saying we need to lower our reverence for our own heroes.  To our enemies, they are not heroic - they are dangerous.  And yet what is the difference?  If the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun, who's to say who is good and who is bad?  In the world of civilian shootings, it is a bit obvious.  But what about on the battlefield?  How can you, objectively, determine which side is more justified?  I don't think you can.

Our text is going to explore the complexities of war more deeply as the story continues.  The Creative Wizard, of course, was a soldier in World War I.  We will continue to be challenged in our thinking of war, soldiers, and victory.  For now, I will leave you with this.  We have been rooting constantly for the side of the Free Peoples without a moment's thought to what the Shadow desires.  One the one hand, the Shadow wishes to wipe the Free People's from Middle Earth.  But the Free Peoples seek to do the same, and in fact to destroy an ancient relic (The Ring) to ensure the Enemy's destruction.  Who's to say the Shadow, once the Free Peoples are destroyed, won't end their war, and set up orc schools and post offices?  Why, precisely, are we on the side of the Free Peoples...

I'm not saying the Shadow is justified in what they want.  I'm saying the Free Peoples may not be.  They are, indeed, doing bad for the greater good.

A squandered opportunity

For the entirety of Fellowship, Frodo is our avatar.  We know only what he knows - rarely are we let in on the thoughts of other characters.  This allows the story of unfold slowly.  Unless the reader has already read the text, the reader would know as little as Frodo about the Outside World.  It's why we fear the Black Riders and the Old Forest and the Balrog.  The book is driven upon fear of the unknown.  Of course, if one has already read the text (Or read the appendices, or watched the films), one will know a great deal more about Middle Earth than Frodo - but the book is clearly designed that we can sympathize with Frodo's ignorance.  "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door... There's no knowing where you might be swept off to."  Such is our fate, as well.  And such is the book structured.  There is a mystery in almost every chapter - uncertainty is ever present.

When The Two Towers begins, The Hunters have become our guide.  We're not given insight into their thoughts, as we were with Frodo.  We know only what they say and do.  The text doesn't even focus on one of the three - it follows the three of them as one group.

This week's chapters shifts the perspective yet again.  "The Uruk-Hai" and "Treebeard" bring us back to the Hobbits - specifically to Pippin.  And here we are brought into his thoughts.  His memory of how he was captured (The only time when we hear, in any detail, what happened to Boromir), his concern over what the orcs want with him, etc.  We return again to the potential fear off the unknown.  Pippin knows maybe less than Frodo, judging from his past actions.  It would be strange to be guided by one so ignorant.

But there is one difference.  We have met Eomer, who has told us that he and his Eorling met and destroyed the orcs.  The hunters find the battle field and "Searched far and wide about the field of battle...By nightfall they had found no trace of Merry and Pippin."  We know how this ends.  The mystery, then, is what happens to the hobbits.  They are either dead among the wreckage, yet to be found (Many bodies were burned by the time the hunters got there - it is plausible that they were among the first to be burned, and thus their bodies would not be recognizable), or they had escaped.  But surely Aragorn would have found tracks...

But we know the fate of the orcs - they will die.  It takes a lot of the suspense out of the story.  In fact, it makes them look incredibly foolish.  We see the orcs argue amongst themselves (Some are Saruman's, some are Sauron's, some are out of Moria) - they cannot get along.  Since they will all die soon, it is all quite futile.

It also removes a lot of the mystery.  Pippin is in a new world.  "All that he could remember about Rohan was that Gandalf's horse, Shadowfax, had come from that land."  The orcs threaten him, "The Whiteskins will catch you and eat you!"  Without the previous chapter, this is basically all we know of the Rohirrim.

Particularly mindful readers will remember other things: The rumors that Rohan pays tribute to Mordor, and that, when Gandalf rode out with Shadowfax, the King of Rohan was displeased by this.  With the chapter, Pippin is a character, but not our avatar.  We know far more than he does, and the text is weaker for it.  Without the previous chapter, it is unclear whose side they are on.  Since the Orcs are arguing over the Hobbits (It is evident that whoever returns the Hobbits to their boss is in for a big reward), it is possible the Whiteskins are similarly motivated.

The suspense is in the earlier chapter - what has happened to the Hobbits?  Eomer says they killed everyone, and found no bodies that were not orcs.  The hunters find the battlefield, but no sign of their companions.  Do we believe the Creative Wizard will kill another pair of characters?  Is the suspense real?

I don't think so.  It would be unfathomably dark for Merry and Pippin to die without a trace.  While it's possible to read "The Uruk-Hai" under the constant fear Merry and Pippin might die, that seems more like an active effort on the reader's part to worry than any work of the Creative Wizard.  This is the first chapter with any sort of "rewind," that is: it begins sometime during "The Departure of Boromir."  The text is no longer being written consecutively.  It would seem unusual, then, for the text to rewind just to show us their deaths, when so many other major events have been shown through the eyes of observers (or told second hand).  They are not found at the battlefield.  They must have escaped - but when?  The suspense is ever-optimistic.

Now we begin to delve into story-writing tricks.  Presenting the chapters in this way makes "The Uruk-Hai" a fundamentally optimistic chapter.  But imagine the chapters were switched.

Let's pretend we had not met Eomer yet.  The Whiteskins could be a viable threat.  There are three competing parties for the hobbits - why not a fourth?  And wouldn't the fourth, the unknown, be the most terrible?  This, again, plays into our understanding of Middle Earth - there is much that is unknown, especially to a Hobbit.

Not only that, imagine we read "The Riders of Rohan" after this chapter, after the battle and that the Hobbits have escaped into the forest.  The early confrontation between Eomer and the hunters, before they determine they are on the same side, would have so much more suspense.  We've seen them in battle - if the conversation goes ill the companions are doomed.  Of course, the discussion of the battle loses its suspense - we know the hobbits have escaped.  But the end of the chapter takes on a new meaning:

"'Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own.  What it is I do not know.'
'And I do not wish to know,' said Gimli."

At the end of "The Uruk-Hai," Merry and Pippin recall they were warned against Fangorn, but enter it anyway, seeing no other way to safety.  And now the hunters, such brave and noble heroes, fear to enter it.  Who could say Merry and Pippin have escaped danger?  And then an old man in all white (Is it Saruman?), appears, and their horses flee.  Disaster on all counts!  The Two Towers would have a very grim opening, indeed!

This would then make the following chapter, the second in this week's reading, "Treebeard," an excellent breath of fresh air.  It ends with the Ents marching to war against Isengard.  While Treebeard entertains the notion they may not succeed, and in fact die in the attempt, it would be heartening to know that such an "unhasty" race has taken up the call.

The chapters, as they are, make for a squandered opportunity.  It is hard to come to that conclusion, but I must.  A holy text is not a perfect text.  While we are not within our rights to change it, we can criticize it as we can criticize any other piece of art.  After all, if a text is beyond reproach, it must be on its merits, not on principle.

The Lord of the Rings is a great and excellent text, and one which contains many lessons.  But one of its lessons is that imperfection is inevitable.  The only thing worse than making a mistake is refusing to acknowledge it.  But mistakes do not undercut the entirety of a thing.  Looking for perfection is a poor use of time.  Look for value and look for lessons.

But similarly, after you acknowledge the mistake, don't obsess over it.  But do not throw away an entire labor because of a wrench in the gears, big or small.  Even if you squander great opportunities, don't let that break your spirit.  I'm frustrated at this detail, but that doesn't cause me to look upon Lord of the Rings with any less reverence.  Nor should your own errors cause you great despair.

Tolkien believed Shakespeare had squandered an opportunity when, in Macbeth, "Birnham Wood is come to castle Dunsinane," it amounted to men with leaves in their hats."  Squandered opportunities, then are not so squandered.  They may inspire others.  So don't despair at all!  Your mistake might be just the thing that inspires someone to greatness.  And if your mistakes may have that kind of impact, just think of your successes!

(I'm entirely open to someone rebutting my opinion on these chapters in the comments).