Fear and Wonder and Lasting Delight

We all have biases.  It's important to acknowledge them and investigate where they come from.  Biases aren't bad, but they can lead us down bad roads if we are not careful.  We should be vigilant.  We should be able to judge things fairly, even if we have a bias.

And yet I cannot deny it.  Faramir, Boromir's brother, whom we meet in this week's double-portion, is my favorite character in the series.  Bar none.  I wish I could explain why.  There isn't really any attribute about him that's unique.  I just greatly enjoy reading his part in the story.

This week's chapters are "Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbits" and "The Window on the West."  On their way to Gollum's secret entrance to Mordor the hobbits are captured by a group of men.  Gollum happens to be away looking for food and so is not caught.  Their captain, Faramir, questions them to learn what they are doing so close to Mordor.  He's never met a hobbit before - he calls them 'halflings' - and is suspicious.

Though he keeps the details of the Quest to himself, Frodo reveals the names of those in the Fellowship in a token of good will.  Maybe Faramir will have heard these names and will know Frodo is on his side.  When he names Boromir, Faramir reveals he is his brother.  Frodo becomes uneasy - the last time he saw Boromir things went poorly.

The meeting is interrupted.  Faramir and his men, of course, are out in the wilderness for their own reason.  They are ambushing troops rallying to Sauron.  The enemy is approaching the ambush site, and so Faramir must attend to the battle.  Frodo and Sam must wait.

Sam hears the sounds of the battle and grows curious.  He crawls to a ledge and looks down into the wooded valley, where the battle is being fought.

To his astonishment and terror, and lasting delight, Sam saw a vast

shape crash out of the trees and come careering down the slope. Big as a house,

much bigger than a house, it looked to him, a grey-clad moving hill.

Sam has seen what he has longed to see: An oliphaunt (A huge elephant).  And he is filled with "astonishment and terror".  The text later adds "Fear and wonder".

What a strange mix of feelings.  Usually we consider being scared to be only negative.  But there is a certain thrill that comes with being afraid, isn't there?  Everyone processes the experience differently - there are horror movie junkies who seek out the best scares, and then there are people like me, who celebrate Halloween by watching this silly music video and this old animated telling of Sleepy Hollow.  And both give me enough goosebumps to last until the next year.

The text makes a point of describing the positive and the negative twice. 'Astonishment and terror' and 'fear and wonder'.  The Creative Wizard is saying the pairs come together, and that the feelings are similar.  Astonishment and wonder are both related to the idea of seeing something awe-inspiring.  Seeing the Grand Canyon in person, or a celebrity you really like in person, or going on a successful first date.  All these things can stop us in our track and make us dumbstruck.

And yet terror and fear also strikes us dumbstruck - though we're more likely to say we have been petrified.  The result nonetheless looks the same.  We are frozen to the spot, our mind can't think straight, words fail us.  Fear and wonder look the same.

I think this is because both have the effect of making us feel small.  When one is afraid, one feels powerless and vulnerable.  When one is astonished, one feels powerless and over-awed.  I imagine it is similar to how storm chasers feel when they finally catch "the big one".  One must both be in awe of an F5 tornado AND one must be terrified of it.  To only have one feeling is to underappreciate the situation.

But there is one more riddle to attend to.  We are told Sam also feels delight.  But not simply delight - "lasting delight."  That tells us the delight, whether immediate or not, endures long after the incident has passed.  I think the delight derives from the fact that Sam survives the encounter unscathed.  The thrill of the fear and of the wonder both enhance the memory.  It becomes a story for him to tell, a story no other Hobbit has.  He can share it with others and he can reminisce privately.

Many years ago I was part of a protest in Los Angeles.  I marched with Black Panthers, blocked a highway, ran from the police, and helped repair a fence that had gotten knocked down.  I felt both fear and wonder - I got the thrill both from "doing the right thing" as well as from the danger inherent in defying authority.  I wouldn't have called the experience delightful, but it has given me "lasting delight."

A mundane life is respectable: work to pay the bills, use your free time in enjoyable if repetitive ways.  There's nothing wrong with any of that.  But the best memories we can build come when we push those boundaries.  There's nothing mundane about a protest and there's nothing mundane about an oliphaunt.  No one on their deathbed wishes they had had less adventures.

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Just do it!

This week's chapter is called "The Black Gate is Closed."  Our heroes have arrived at the gate of Mordor!  But it is a extremely dangerous place.  Not only is it heavily guarded, but troops rallying to Sauron are marching through and being let in.  This would be a dangerous place to stage an attack - it seems hopeless for anyone trying to sneak by.  But Frodo stays true to his task.

When he tells Smeagol he intends to enter, Smeagol begs him not to.  Frodo insists he must.  Smeagol (Who doesn't know why Frodo is going) says if Frodo must go to Mordor, maybe he could give the Ring to Smeagol first.  Nevertheless, Frodo persists.

Smeagol then reveals he knows another way into Mordor, not one so obvious.  When pressed why he hadn't mentioned it before, Smeagol says he would have if anyone had told him the goal was to enter Mordor.  But Frodo had said to bring him to the gate, and nothing more.  A bit pedantic, but if Smeagol is as obsessed with the Ring as we're led to believe it isn't unimaginable he didn't consider why they'd want to go to the gate.

No matter.  Smeagol says another way exists, a staircase built into the southern border of Mordor which he found.  Sam, of course, is unsure, but Frodo says,

`Sméagol, I will trust you once more. lndeed it seems that I must do so, and that it is

my fate to receive help from you, where I least looked for it, and your fate to help me

whom you long pursued with evil purpose. So far you have deserved well of me and have kept

your promise truly. Truly, I say and mean,' he added with a glance at Sam, 'for twice now we

have been in your power, and you have done no harm to us. Nor have you tried to take from me

what you once sought. May the third time prove the best! But I warn you, Sméagol, you are in danger.'

`Yes, yes, master! ' said Gollum. `Dreadful danger! Sméagol's bones 

shake to think of it. but he doesn't run away. He must help nice master.'

'I did not mean the danger that we all share,' said Frodo. 'I mean a danger to

yourself alone. You swore a promise by what you call the Precious. Remember that! It will

hold you to it; but it will seek a way to twist it to your own undoing. Already you are

being twisted. You revealed yourself to me just now, foolishly. Give it back to Sméagol you said.

Do not say that again! Do not let that thought grow in you! You will never get it back.

But the desire of it may betray you to a bitter end. You will never get it back.

In the last need, Sméagol, I should put on the Precious; and the Precious mastered you long ago.

If I, wearing it, were to command you, you would obey, even if it were to leap from a

precipice or to cast yourself into the fire. And such would be my command. So have a care, Sméagol!

In this book we are seeing Frodo in a new light.  Throughout Fellowship he remained a reluctant adventurer - slowly learning the true danger of his Quest.  While Frodo never wanted this Quest, and perhaps lacked the characteristics of an adventurer, he has since developed them.  But with this knowledge Frodo grows a sense of responsibility.  He is still reluctant, in the sense he doesn't relish the Quest, but he is committed to its completion.  Frodo will go to Mount Doom.  Nothing can stop him.

Many times in our lives we grow into our responsibilities.  While "Dress for the job you want" and "Fake it till you make it" are great pieces of advice, it requires a bit of foresight.  You have to know the job you want.  To fake it, you need to know what you should be imitating.  These sort of things aren't always possible.  They also focus on the future, not on the present.

In September 2010 I moved to Alaska, where I knew no one.  Well, I knew two people - in the most literal sense: my employer and my roommate.  By the time I left Alaska almost 2 years later I had a significant network of friends and colleagues that I still keep in touch with.

While I've always consider myself friendly, I had never needed to use my friendliness.  I made friends in school and in college the same as everyone else - social osmosis.  But in Alaska I really needed to make friends.  I needed to reach out.  My roommate was kind enough to bring me into her circle of friends.  I also called the number on a posting at the local gaming store for a game group.  They warmly welcomed me in.  If you had asked me before I moved how to make new friends I wouldn't have had any idea how.  Now I know:

• Go to events that interest you, you will meet like-minded people there.
• Friendship is different than shared interest, so talk to as many people there until you find some people where things really click.
• Friendship is based on shared experiences more than shared interest.  Keep going to these events and be a participant.
• Be patient.  It will take longer than you want to go from acquaintance to familiar face to friend.
• A bit of good luck (I cannot imagine how I would have fared in Alaska if I hadn't gotten the roommate I ended up, whom I happened to meet through Craigslist).

Nothing helps us in solving problems as much as need.  "Necessity is the mother of invention" applies to all cases.  If you are facing a situation, and you don't know how best to address it, it is likely possible that the best thing to do is to force yourself to deal with it.  The ability to delay can be detrimental.

Before I moved to Alaska I lived in Gloucester, and I was miserable.  I had a hard time making friends, but I didn't have much motivation - Boston wasn't that far away.  But my friends didn't like making the drive up to me, and I didn't always want to make the drive down to see them.  I split my attention between new friends and old friends, and the result was misery.  Throwing myself to the other side of the country solved my problem by forcing me to face it, with no other recourse.

Frodo is still Frodo - he is still reluctant and trusting and hates to endanger his friends.  To grow we do not need to change who we are.  But we need to be willing to respond to the needs of the moment.  Books and classes and tutorials are important ways to learn, but experience teaches like nothing else.

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Doing and Also Appreciating

There was a deep silence, only scraped on its surfaces by the faint quiver of empty seed-plumes, and broken grass-blades trembling in small air-movements that they could not feel.
'Not a bird! ' said Sam mournfully.
`No, no birds,' said Gollum. `Nice birds! ' He licked his teeth. 'No birds here. There are snakeses, wormses, things in the pools. Lots of things, lots of nasty things. No birds,' he ended sadly. Sam looked at him with distaste.

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This week we read "The Passage Of the Marshes."  In it, Gollum carefully leads Frodo and Sam through the Dead Marshes, a stinking swamp filled with the dead faces of men, elves, and orcs.  He has proven to be a good guide, and by the end they are very close to the Black Gate of Mordor.

This chapter has a lot of interaction between Sam and Gollum - sometimes Sam pities Gollum, sometimes he is suspicious of him, and other times he downright hates him.  Sam and Gollum are quite different personalities and they are destined to conflict.

The above quote I think highlights a key difference between them.  Sam misses the birds because of the sounds they make; they bring life to a place.  A place with no birds is a lonely place.  Gollum, meanwhile, misses birds only because he wants to eat them.  Generally speaking, Gollum hates other creatures.  He sees them only as something he can use to his advantage.  Otherwise, they're just in the way.

Of course, we ought to be like Sam.  But it can be difficult to appreciate beauty with so much pressure around us to be productive.  Many of us see spare time as wasted time.  Worse yet, spare time is when depression or OCD or other mental illnesses can spike.  By being busy and viewing the world as a thing to use and be useful to we can occupy so much of our mental space that we don't leave room for anything else.  It is a good defense.  But that locked door works on everything.  It keeps the demons at bay, but it also locks out the light.

We all have a Gollum and a Sam in each of us.  A part of us that seeks out productivity and another that wants to appreciate.  But they can easily come into conflict.  I'm sure we've all reflected on a productive week and thought "I accomplished a lot of stuff but I don't think I enjoyed much of it."  Like the characters in the book, these two parts of ourselves look at each other with distaste.  In a story, that's good conflict.  In a single person that can be toxic.

March was a very busy month for me.  As an educator, March is usually dreadful.  No vacation and no three day weekend, plus the weather is usually awful.  I get run down and my students get run down, both of which require me to work harder to accomplish the same goals.

I was busy, and I usually I like being busy (Because, fortunately, I do like my job), but I also felt a bit out of control.  I was doing well at my job but it wasn't "for me".  It wasn't quite burnout, but I felt my job was taking over my life.  I didn't have much free time to do what I wanted.  What little free time I had needed to be dedicated to recovery, since I'd soon be back at work again.

Now it is April, and I am fortunate to have nearly two weeks off (Because Passover begins right as school vacation ends).  I could stay home for two weeks, playing video games and board games and reading, but that's what I did during my free time in March.  As I said, that was mostly recovery.  It didn't feel good so much as therapeutic.  It helped me cope with the busy-ness.  But we should strive to not merely cope with life but to enjoy it.

So I've decided to do some hiking.  It's a bit cold in April for hiking, but better than March, and if I don't do it now I'll have to wait until June for another break.  Hopefully, being outdoors will give me a chance to appreciate life in a way I haven't been able to.

Unlike Sam and Gollum, there is a way for our two voices to live in harmony.  Our Gollum can drive us to succeed and can remind us we sometimes must do unpleasant things to reach that success.  Once our Gollum is sated, our Sam can help us enjoy what we have achieved, and revel in the success.  Instead of running off too quickly for the next victory, we should take a break from the work.  This better allows us to enjoy life.  And then, when we're back to "the grind," we can know what we're working towards: Another moment of accomplishment and peace.

The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

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Elven Magic

This week we begin book four, which brings us back to Sam and Frodo on their way toward Mordor.  Last we saw them they had taken a boat and left the crumbling Fellowship behind.  At the beginning of this chapter, called The Taming of Sméagol, we find them wandering around Emyn Muil, a collection of rocky hills known for their labyrinthine layout and sheer cliffs.  Sam and Frodo have been lost in this region for days.  They begin to despair of ever getting out.

The delay allows Gollum, who has been tracking the fellowship since Moria, to catch up with them.  Gollum, recall, owned the Ring for centuries before losing it to Bilbo.  It was difficult enough for Bilbo to part with it - it has proven impossible for Gollum.

Though Gollum is able to track them down, Sam and Frodo see him and attack.  They are able to defeat him - but he surrenders before they kill him.  Unwilling to commit murder, Frodo offers a deal: If Gollum will lead them out of Emyn Muil, they will let him live.  But Gollum takes the deal a step further, swearing to serve "the master of the Precious."  He is now bound to Frodo.  And thus Gollum, AKA Sméagol, is tamed.

This chapter has a couple of instances of Elven Magic, an important aspect throughout our text that we've generally skimmed over.  The Creative Wizard never explicitly explains how Elven magic works (he believed stories were better when some things remained unexplained), and so it is difficult to delve too deeply into it.  But just because information is sparse doesn't mean Elven magic is impossible to understand.  Indeed, what little the text says of Elven magic can, if all these details are brought together, tell a coherent - if still incomplete - story.

The main magical subject of this chapter is the Elvish rope the hobbits use when climbing the cliffs.  The rope is from Lorien - Galadriel gave it to Sam.  Here are the magical things it does:

• Frodo, having fallen suddenly while climbing, cannot see.  Whether he is temporarily blinded or in an impenetrable darkness is left unclear.  Sam lowers down to Frodo.  The text says "The darkness seemed to lift from Frodo's eyes, or else his sight was returning. He could see the grey line as it came dangling down, and he thought it had a faint silver sheen."
• Sam ties the rope so they can both climb down a cliff.  When they're down, he realizes the rope is now stuck, tied at the top of the cliff, and must be left behind.  After some despair, he yanks the rope once "as if in farewell."  To his surprise, the whole rope comes tumbling down the rock wall.  Sam says "I think the rope came off itself - when I called."
• Gollum cannot bear the touch of the rope when it is tied around him.  "'It hurts us, it hurts us,' hissed Gollum. `It freezes, it bites! Elves twisted it, curse them! Nasty cruel hobbits! That's why we tries to escape, of course it is, precious. We guessed they were cruel hobbits. They visits Elves, fierce Elves with bright eyes. Take it off us! It hurts us.'"

The rope clearly has magical qualities.  Well, magic may be the wrong word.  The Elves don't consider it magic.  In Fellowship, Galadriel says this to Sam when she shows him and Frodo her mirror:

"For this is what your folk would call magic. I believe; though I do not

understand clearly what they mean; and they seem also to use the same

word of the deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel."

Gandalf does magic.  He speaks spells.  The Elves don't do this.  That rope is shining, but there isn't an Elf around for miles.  It seems the Elves, and the things they create, are magic.  Legolas can see significantly farther than anyone else in the Fellowship because, well, I'm not sure how to explain it, and neither does this post.  It's just true.

I think the best comparison is to the agents in the Matrix.  The agents aren't magical.  They're strength doesn't come from knowledge or skills - it comes from their existence.  They can manipulate everything within the Matrix because they are part of it.  Perhaps the Elves are like this, too.

To quote author Robert A. Heinlein, "One man's 'magic' is another man's engineering."  The Elves may be in touch with Middle Earth in a way the other races are unable to be.  When leaving Lorien, Galadriel gives Frodo a phial which "caught the light of Erandil's star."  This isn't a metaphor.  Somehow the star (or at least it's light) is contained in that phial.  At least, I think.

I wonder if, to the Elves, all the other races are just lacking.  The Elves aren't better - the others are just worse.  That could explain their disdainful view of most mortals, even those who are "good guys".  It's like that person who is such an expert in something they don't even realize how dismissive they are to novices.  It doesn't even occur to them anymore that their level of knowledge is exceptional.

The Elves are leaving Middle Earth.  I am becoming convinced this is good.  The Elves have overstayed their welcome and will come into conflict with the others.  The Quest succeeds largely because of other races - and that they work together.  The Elves cannot help but get in the way.

An obvious difference between the Elves and the Agents are that the Agents are evil - they exist to enforce the Matrix.  The Elves are good, but perhaps they are too good.  The Elves see all progress as undermining Middle Earth's essential properties.  For only slightly different reasons, it is impossible for the Agents and the Elves to coexist with autonomous humans.

The agents see human autonomy as a threat to their rule.  The Agents keep down the humans so they do not become free.  Conflict is inevitable, and only one side can remain.

The Elves see human autonomy as inherently worse than what they could come up with.  It might be difficult to sit by and watch Middle Earth, in their perception, fade.  Conflict is inevitable, and only one side can remain.

The Elves, caught between their own perfection and yet a desire to care for Middle Earth's future, realize they must leave.  As noted above, a time for cooperation among Middle Earth's peoples is coming, and the Elves are too superior for that.  They need to leave, and they know it.

But when the Elves leave, they will take their magic, their engineering, their deep knowledge of the workings of Middle Earth with them.  Starlight will remain in the sky, out of reach.  There will be no more Rings of Power.  Human monarchs will make errors inconceivable for an Elvish ruler.  But that's the price of social progress.  Starlight is nice and all, but cooperation and equality is more practical.  The Elves will take their engineering, but Middle Earth will persevere.

I will leave you with a question that has been bouncing around my head all week.  Social progress is a moral good.  But we also know that the Elves are, truly, better than all the other races on Middle Earth.  Is it possible to be "better" but also morally worse?  If so, what does it mean that to achieve morality we must, at least sometimes, diminish ourselves?

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Of Apologies and Forgiveness

[Pippin] fell back, clinging to the wizard's hand. 'Gandalf!' he cried. 'Gandalf! Forgive me!'
'Forgive you?' said the wizard. 'Tell me first what you have done!'

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This week's chapter is called simply "The Palantir."  It is not about the tech company, which is just a PR disaster away from regretting its name.  Our heroes leave Saruman to sulk in Isengard.  But they are not empty-handed.  Wormtongue had hurled a glass ball from the tower at them.  It missed, and Pippin grabbed it before it rolled away into the water.  Gandalf immediately takes it from him, suggesting it is no ordinary orb, but he will not say what it is.

That evening, Pippin is full of questions.  He creeps over to Gandalf's bed, who is protecting it "like a hen on an egg."  He, Indiana Jones style, switches the ball with a rock, and he looks into it.  The glass ball is a Palantir an ancient magical device of communication.  In the old days it was how Gondor kept its wide kingdom united.  Using the Palantiri, instant communication was possible.  But they have been lost for some time.

When Pippin looks into the Palantir he sees Sauron - and Sauron sees him!  Sauron, not knowing Saruman has been defeated, assumes Pippin is Saruman's captive, and that Pippin has the Ring.  Sauron orders Pippin to tell Saruman "this trinket is not for him."  Pippin gives a cry, which rouses Gandalf and the others, and then faints.

Gandalf throws his cloak over the ball, then attends to Pippin.  Pippin soon wakes up and reaches out to Gandalf.  It's at this point the exchange that opened this post happens.

When's the last time you screwed up?  I mean really screwed up.  A screw up that cost you money or time or reputation.  I bet it felt awful.  You were probably embarrassed by it.  You likely wanted nothing more than to be forgiven, and quickly, so you could put the incident behind you.

I made a big mistake at work recently.  I run a youth program, and I need to ensure our programs don't conflict with other youth programs in the community.  But last week we had a last minute cancellation, and in my hurry to reschedule the program, I accidentally scheduled the program during one of those other programs.  I had screwed up.

I recently heard about two types of compassion:  Cheap compassion and wise compassion.  Cheap compassion is basically commiseration.  A friend loses their job, has a break up, drops their phone in the toilet - whatever.  Cheap compassion is us listening to them complain and agreeing - Yes, your boss was a jerk; Yes, she wasn't right for you; Yes, that is unfortunate, etc.  It's important, especially in the immediate aftermath.  Our friend is likely overwhelmed with emotion.  We should help provide a place for them to get them out.

But cheap compassion doesn't solve the problem.  It just provides a place to vent.  Wise compassion is how the underlying problems get solved.  Were your perfectionist tendencies making all of your work project late?  Was your desire to be in a relationship so strong that you ended up in one that was doomed from the start?  If you drop your phone in the toilet so often, maybe you should stop bringing it into the bathroom.  But wise compassion requires hard questions.  While we do it from a compassionate point of view (We love our friends, of course, and want them to overcome their underlying issues), it can provoke anger and defensiveness, "Are you saying this is my fault??!"  Sometimes the answer is yes.  It can be hard to be the one to hold up that mirror.  But if we don't, if we just give cheap compassion, the problems will repeat.

Pippin knows he has screwed up.  He went face to face with Sauron and spoke to him.  It is difficult to think of a worse outcome.  Pippin is overwhelmed with guilt and just wants the situation to be over - he wants to be forgiven so they can move on.

But Gandalf will not forgive him.  Not right away.  First, he must know what Pippin has done.  What needs to be forgiven, why did Pippin do it, and what might result from it?  Gandalf presses Pippin to tell him more of the encounter.  Firmly, but gently, Gandalf gets Pippin to tell him everything.  Once he is satisfied, Gandalf takes Pippin's face in his hands and says, "A fool, but an honest fool, you remain, Peregrin Took."

It is impossible to go through life without screw ups.  What defines us is how we respond.  When I realized my mistake I felt embarrassed and defensive.  Not defensive because I didn't think anything was wrong, but because it was an honest mistake and I wanted to be forgiven immediately for it.  But that's not how forgiveness works.  It needs to be earned.

I sent out an apology email to affected families.  But before I did, I looked up what makes an effective apology.  I began with an admission of guilty, and an acknowledgement of the inconvenience I had caused (and would cause by yet another schedule change).  I explained what led to the screw up - I wanted to give families ample time of the schedule change, and in doing so failed to check with our master schedule first.  This was not to be defensive, but as a way for me to be transparent with what had gone wrong.  A way to turn my screw up into a teachable moment.  Then I explained what the new plan, one that didn't have the same schedule conflict.  Finally, I said I would strive to ensure it did not happen again, and I thanked those who emailed me their concerns and encouraged families to do so again in the future if I made another mistake.

I was:

1. Remorseful about the impact I had on them
2. Open about my responsibility
3. Grateful of critical feedback and open to it in the future.

All these things being done, I was finally in a position to be forgiven and move on.

Wise compassion ain't easy.  There's a reason therapists usually do it.  It's really, really tough to be that kind of honest with your friends and loved ones.  But wise compassion, if you can endure it, leads to real growth.  Pippin is eventually forgiven, but he grows during this chapter.  He had been led astray by his curiosity and has learned his lesson.  But there's more.  Now that Sauron believes Saruman has the Ring, he must go to Isengard to retrieve it.  The Nazgûl will be sent out.  But Sauron will soon learn of Saruman's defeat, and that the Ring is not being kept at Isengard for him.  He will send his entire army against Gondor in the hopes of defeating humans before they can wield the Ring against him.

And all of this coming calamity is Pippin's fault.  It cannot be fixed with a quick apology and forgiveness.  The future has been irrevocably changed - for the worse - and again it is Pippin's fault.  He must take responsibility.

And he will.  Gandalf forgives him, but that is not where things end.  Realizing the danger to Gondor, Gandalf decides to ride to Minas Tirith and warn the Steward about Mordor's coming attack.  And Pippin must come with him.  We aren't told exactly why Gandalf takes him, but here's an educated guess:  Pippin has begun a fresh set of dominoes.  They will fall hardest on Minas Tirith.  He should be there for it.

We now come to the end of book 3 (Remember, each volume of the trilogy is really two books).  When we next see Pippin in book 5 we will see him come face to face with the consequences of his actions.  Beyond that, we will also see his efforts to mitigate the very worst.

The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

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Demanding and Granting Respect

This week's chapter is called "The Voice of Saruman."  Gandalf has arrived at Saruman's tower in Isengard, Orthanc.  Gandalf wants to talk to Saruman and attempt to convince him to give up his ambitions and rejoin the fight again Sauron.

It does not go well.  Saruman, speaking from a balcony high above, stubbornly refuses to listen.  Eventually, Saruman tries to turn the tables by inviting Gandalf, alone, into Orthanc, saying:

Let us understand one another, and dismiss from

thought these lesser folk! Let them wait on our decisions!

For the common good I am willing to redress the past, and

to receive you. Will you not consult with me? Will you not come up?

Gandalf responds by recalling his last visit to Orthanc, during which Saruman revealed his allegiance to Sauron and imprisoned Gandalf when he refused to join.  He says "Nay, the guest who has escaped from the roof, will think twice before he comes back in by the door.  Nay, I do not think I will come up. But listen, Saruman, for the last time! Will you not come down?"

Saruman and Gandalf both want to have a conversation.   They even have a similar goal - they both want to be on the same side.  What they disagree on is which side that should be.

Let's look closer at the specific language used.  Saruman is asking Gandalf to come up.  He is inviting him in.  By saying "I am willing to receive you," Saruman is presenting himself as the powerful and gracious one.  Saruman could refuse Gandalf, but in fact invites him in.

But Saruman has just lost the Battle of Helm's Deep and Isengard has been taken by the ents.  Saruman is in no position to play host.  He is defeated, and yet he clings to his pride and pretends that being literally above the others means he is actually superior to them.  It's absurd for him to say "I am willing to receive you," when it is they who have come to his door in the first place.  His invitation is irrelevant.

Gandalf, by demanding Saruman comes down, is trying to get Saruman to accept defeat and show humility.  It is in his tower that Saruman first allied with Sauron, and where he imprisoned Gandalf, and from where he commanded his armies.  Saruman must admit defeat before any meaningful dialogue can take place.  Leaving his tower is a way of showing he acknowledges his defeat.  Remaining there signals he is still willing to fight.

Saruman should have come down.  He has faced a stunning defeat - the Uruk-Hai have been destroyed, the Dunland men whom he stirred against Rohan have surrendered, and Isengard is in ruins.  Nothing but pride holds him in his tower.

However, there are times when we have been defeated that it is fitting for us to demand others still "come up".  Most political defeats, for example, are temporary.  If everyone who lost an election also completely gave up, democracies would cease to function.  We can have high-minded ideals, lose an election, and keep the ideals.  To continue to demand respect (for both ourselves and our ideals) we show that our support was not for political expediency but out of true conviction.  It may inspire or enrage others, but politics should be messy.  If no one had convictions, what could we possibly fight for?

This of course extends beyond politics.  There are many social and professional and personal situations where we people should "come up".  Hosting friends is a great way to strengthen bonds - you're opening yourself up, if only they'd join.  If you only spend time with each other at bars or bowling alleys, so called "neutral places," the intimacy is limited.

Professionally, there are many times when we have a goal for our workplace.  Speaking from my experience, I open each of my elementary school-age classes with a 5 minute welcome circle.  It's a brief time for everyone to share how they are doing.  My supervisors both told me I shouldn't do it because it wastes time that could be used for education.  But I pushed back, saying we were building community, which had its own value, and which also would positively affect the classroom overall (children are more likely to learn in environments they are comfortable).  I stood my ground, and now I am able to hold those welcome circles without interference.

Yet there are also times when we ought to "come down" to others.  Humility has great value.  Especially if we are trying to convince someone of our position, they are more likely to listen to our position if they like us, the messenger.  We see this with Fox News, which praised Trump for doing the same thing they had previously excoriated Obama for.  Not that we expect Fox to be a model of journalism anyway, but the point remains.  Often our response to content is greatly colored by its delivery and deliverer.

Perhaps you've heard of the sandwich method of feedback.  It says superiors should advise their staff by sandwiching negative feedback with positive feedback.  People are more likely to listen to negative feedback if they believe it is for their own good and not out of spite.  It's why interventions require loved ones, and cannot just be by strangers.

The sandwich method shows the listener they are being noticed for what they've done right and that the speaker cares about them.  The message is "You do this thing right, and that's great.  Wouldn't it be great to do more things right?"  It's inspiring and positive.

Knowing when one should be willing to 'come down' and when one should insist others 'come up' is important.  There are times we need to stand firm on our beliefs and force people to reckon with our presence and convictions.  But there are also times we should be willing to 'come down' to other people's levels and speak in a way more understanding and sympathetic towards their position.  And, hey, if you 'come down' and are truly persuasive, maybe those you spoke to will 'come up' to your tower of conviction and join you.  That's the power of respect.

The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

Like this project?  Want to learn more?  Want exclusive access to behind-the-scenes content?  Go to my Patreon site and see how you can become a part of the action!

Realizing Your Whole Self

It's time for another double portion!  This week we read "The Road to Isengard" and "Flotsam and Jetsam."  The first chapter covers Theoden, his men, and Gandalf and company going to Isengard to confront Saruman.  Upon their arrival they are reunited with Merry and Pippin, who welcome them to the wreckage.  The Ents have lain waste to Isengard.  In the second chapter, Gandalf and the Rohirrim go onward toward Orthanc, Saruman's tower.  But Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stay behind to catch up with Merry and Pippin.

Aragorn recounts how they tracked them across the plains, all the way to Fangorn Forest, even into its depths - stopping only when they found Gandalf.  This leads Pippin to exclaim, "Strider the Ranger has come back!"  Aragorn responds "He has never been away... I belong both to Gondor and the North."

Many of us can relate.  We belong in many different communities.  But how we belong in each community might be different.  We may be a leader in one but merely an onlooker in another, and something in between in a third.  This is not to say one is better - indeed, if we were a leader everywhere that would be exhausting.  But with each role comes different responsibilities and expectations.  We behave differently at each.  Accompanying the behavior change is also a language change.  This is known as code switching.

Code switching is nothing new.  We all do it.  We speak differently to our parents than to our peers, and different still to our grandparents.  We speak differently in school and differently at work and differently when out on the town.  Code switching is a regularly exercised skill.

The positive side of code switching is it allows us to fit in.  A community has an expectation of us - code switching allows us to fulfill that expectation.  To use the examples above, a leader speaks differently than an onlooker.  A leader who speaks as an onlooker will be seen as uninspiring, and an onlooker who speaks as a leader will be seen as self-important.

To use myself as an example, as an educator I need to be at least competent in what's "hip," otherwise my students might tune me out.  While I am an avid gamer anyway, I try games that do not appeal to me merely so I can learn more about what my students are talking about (Recently that has meant playing Fortnite and in the past that has meant playing Minecraft).  However, most of my colleagues are my age and so when I speak to them about the latest game, I need to speak more academically, or else they won't take me seriously.

The downside of code switching is it can create islands of identity.  In one setting we are a leader, in another we are an onlooker.  However, both the onlooker and the leader are us.  I am an avid gamer and a knowledgeable educator in-tune with the kids.  That I highlight one aspect in one setting does not mean the other ceases to exist.  But it can sometimes feel like we're hiding who we really are.  It is easy to think of code switching as a defensive tactic.  Indeed, some people must do it for their survival.  But most do it for more a innocuous reason: To fit in.  You are not repressing your true self, you're just fulfilling your role in that group dynamic.

In these moments, let us remember what Aragorn says: "S/he has never been away!"  Aragorn is both a descendant of kings and an accomplished and skilled ranger.  He highlights whichever of those roles he thinks will be most useful in the moment.  But he remains keenly aware that he is one person with one multifaceted identity.  He does not have many identities - instead, his one identity is layered.  Similarly, you can be an amateur bowler and an online troll and a loving parent and a basketball fan and a call center worker and a horror aficionado.  However complex your identity is you should remember all those parts make up a single whole - you. 

The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

Like this project?  Want to learn more?  Want exclusive access to behind-the-scenes content?  Go to my Patreon site and see how you can become a part of the action!