On goals and power

As if reading the wrong chapters wasn't enough I now am quite behind, so I'm giving myself 45 minutes to write, 15 to edit, and then I'm gonna LET IT GO.

This week we read two chapters and end the second part of our text - the Two Towers.  When I was younger I was convinced the towers were Isengard, Saruman's home, and Barad-dûr, Sauron's.  But now I think the references are to Isengard (where the first half of the book ends), and Cirith Ungol, the tower Shelob's Lair leads to - where we leave Frodo and Sam.  Just a thought...

The chapters we read this week are "Shelob's Lair" and "The Choices of Master Samwise."  In them Gollum plays his big trick on the hobbits.  He leads them to the titular Shelob's lair - who is a giant spider.  She hunts down Frodo, though Sam is able to defeat her.  And while she doesn't care about the Ring - her evil is more instinctual than Sauron's (or Gollum's) - we learn of a symbiotic relationship between them:

And as for Sauron: he knew where she lurked. It pleased him that she should dwell
there hungry but unabated in malice, a more sure watch upon that ancient
path into his land than any other that his skill could have devised. And Orcs, they were
useful slaves, but he had them in plenty. If now and again Shelob caught them to
stay her appetite, she was welcome: he could spare them...

So they both lived, delighting in their own devices, and feared no
assault, nor wrath, nor any end of their wickedness. Never yet had any fly escaped
from Shelob’s webs, and the greater now was her rage and hunger.

Here we see a distinct property of evil-doing.  There is no cooperation - only alignment.  Sauron and Shelob are both evil and they can live-and-let-live, but they don't purposefully work together.  Instead, it's more accurate to say they're a little less than apathetic to one another.  Shelob eats Sauron's orcs, but they're just orcs anyway - he doesn't care.  It's worth it, to him, to keep her in that tunnel.  As an unwitting guard she assists Sauron, but not intentionally.  If she lived on the borders of any Elvish or Human realm, she'd surely have been destroyed.  She benefits, too, from evil.

Gollum is similarly planning to use her, but as long as she gets some meat she won't care.  It's all instinct.  But we know if she were hungry enough, she'd also eat Gollum.  And we know if she took the Ring, Gollum would no longer see her as an asset.

While evil can work together, there's a clear limitation.  "Use" is probably the better word.  If you're useful to someone evil you'll be kept around.  Once you lose that use, you're toast.  There's no relationship to depend on - it's all transactional.

I recently played a tournament of Diplomacy, a game I have played for many years.  It's the best way I can experience needing to be opportunistic in this way.  Your neighbors are useful, or they are prey.  When people let underlying relationships dictate their play it can feel unfair.  It's at least always a bit surprising when that comes up.  I had an opportunity to do that in my last game and I turned it down - I don't like to play that way.  Someone else did do that that in my last game, and that required me to rethink my play.

Thinking of relationships as transactional is fun for a few hours over the weekend, but seems  to me like an exhausting way to live.  Constantly calculating if you can get enough out of this person to keep them around, or whether they've become more a drain than an asset.

Frodo and Sam want to save the world not to be heroes, or to reap rewards, but so they can go home and continue to live their old lives.  They want to complete the Quest, but ideally they'd like to also survive together.  Sauron and Gollum want the Ring for themselves to benefit themselves.  They don't want to live their lives - they want to rule everything (Actually, Gollum may want to just live quietly underground - but what kind of life is that?  He just obsesses over the Ring.).

If power is the great evil of our text, good's greatest asset is that it doesn't seek power for its own sake, and stops seeking it once a certain amount has been secured.  Tom Bombadil shows us how this can manifest into apathy, but I don't think this is generally the case.  We all want enough money to live comfortably - go on vacations and not need to panic when we're hit with a sudden bill.  Few of us feel the drive to accumulate more and more, and those that do certainly seem unhappy throughout these pursuits.  If the goal is more (money, time, lovers, followers, power, etc.) you'll never have enough.  A target allows you to, at some point, decide to give up your pursuit and enjoy what you have.  If your goal is power - or to strip your enemy of power - you're gonna have a hard time pumping the breaks.  Diplomacy ends when someone captures 18 Supply Centers not because 18 is a cool number but because, at that point, they have the ability to capture the whole map.  So that's the end of the game part.  But in real life, where there are rarely well-agreed-upon, clear-cut moments of "winning," fights can go on well after things have "settled," and "settled" fights can ignite anew.

I think the best way to approach most of these culture wars is to stake out a position and cling to it - not move the goalposts to turn a victory into "the first of many."  Celebrating victory is important, and allowing the dust to settle and so you can secure your victory is as important as winning in the first place.  Diplomacy isn't a well-known enough game to analogize with, so instead I'll use Jenga.  We all know that risky piece which, if we take, will feel GREAT and really leave our opponent reeling.  That's fun!  But culture wars should not thrive on fun and engagement.  That feeling of enthusiastic and inevitable victory should give you very serious pause!  Securing our goals is more important than the lure of more and more power.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 0% to this post's final version, because I was in such a rush!

Concerning habits

I have made another mistake!  This week's chapter was supposed  to be a double portion with last week's chapter - whoops!  So instead I'll double up this coming week.  My bad!

This week we read "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol."  Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up those very stairs, the least guarded way into Mordor.  Before they start climbing, though, Frodo has an encounter with the Witch King, whom he sees as he rides out to make war on Gondor.  Frodo begins to worry he will be caught, and he remembers the attack on Weathertop.

Even as these thoughts pierced him with dread and held him bound as with a spell, the Rider
halted suddenly, right before the entrance of the bridge, and behind him all the host stood still.
There was a pause, a dead silence. Maybe it was the Ring that called to the Wraith-lord,
and for a moment he was troubled, sensing some other power within his valley. This way
and that turned the dark head helmed and crowned with fear, sweeping the shadows with its
unseen eyes. Frodo waited, like a bird at the approach of a snake, unable to move. And as he
waited, he felt, more urgent than ever before, the command that he should put on the Ring.
But great as the pressure was, he felt no inclination now to yield to it. He knew that
 the Ring would only betray him, and that he had not,  even if he put it on, the power to
face the Morgul-king – not yet. There was no longer any answer to that command
in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beating
 upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, and as Frodo watched
with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some old story far away),
it moved the hand inch by inch towards the chain upon his neck.

I've written before about how the Ring can be a metaphor for bad habits.  Particularly those habits which eventually become maladaptive - and which we should leave behind.  

To quote the first link above: I both love and hate Diet Coke.  But I absolutely hate what Diet Coke does to me.  And yet.  And yet.  I cannot get rid of my desire for it.  I have no will in the matter.  I will drink it.

I think we can all relate.  There's a reason the phrase 'guilty pleasure' is so familiar, or why we call new shows or games 'addicting' when what we mean is "very engaging."  Bad habits are part of life.

And I think we can also relate to the idea that somehow our own willpower is supplanted in the struggle.  I don't know which is worse: To admit we chose to engage in the bad habit, or to admit that the pull of the bad habit overrode our ability to choose at all.  Both rob us of our agency - which is a necessary part of living ethically.  Someone forced to do the right thing, we understand, is not correctly considered a model citizen.  Someone forced to do the wrong thing, too, is not entirely villainous.  Free will is a large part of how we evaluate people - and ourselves.

The good news is we can build good habits - over time.  Unfortunately, even the first paragraph of this undermines the importance of free-will: "What we mistake for willpower is often a hallmark of habit."  People who do the right thing aren't constantly winning the battle to do the right thing - they stack the deck in their favor.  Neurons that fire together wire together and all that.  The more you do an action the easier it is to do again in the future.

We often consider life to be a series of events, choices, and consequences.  Maybe it would be better to reimagine life not as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story but as a sports match.  Players practice far more hours than the games they play take.  They practice not only to improve their skills but to automate them.  This is why booing and cheering at a sports game, while obviously fun, doesn't really make an impact.  They're very much within their own world, completing plays they have done many, many, many more times in private.

Let's take basketball.  When a player has the option to pass or to shoot, they make that decision based on the hundreds of hours of experience they've accumulated.  It is not event-choice-consequence.  The choice isn't really actively made - they're following a script they trust and have mastered.  It doesn't always work - and of course sometimes they go off script - but imagine playing basketball - a fast-moving game - and constantly thinking about what to do.  That would be mentally exhausting, as well as greatly disadvantage you whenever you pause to think.

The scipt is like a habit.  Similarly, we should strive to not just do good, but to develop do-good habits.  If you can automate good deeds you can avoid decision fatigue (which would make turning a blind eye easier).  Practice, practice, practice.  Your free will may not be engaged whenever you encounter an event-choice-consequence, but that's because it has instead been engaged ahead of time.

Bringing good into the world is too important to be left up to our whims.  We should practice doing the right thing as often as possible - so that when it really matters (and we all know it sometimes matters more than other times) we are more likely to do it not because we want to do the right thing but because doing the right thing is as natural as can be.

Or maybe we practice simply lessening our bad habits.  I do drink less Diet Coke than I did when I first wrote that post 10 years ago.  In another 10 years, who knows?  Maybe I'll be down to just 5 cans a week🙃.  Little victories, and all.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 2% to this post's final version.

On good in evil

This week we read "The Journey to the Crossroads."  The hobbits part with Faramir and continue on their journey.  As they say their farewells, Frodo says this, 

‘Most gracious host,’ said Frodo, ‘it was said to me by Elrond Halfelven

that I should find friendship upon the way, secret and unlooked for.

Certainly I looked for no such friendship as you have shown.

To have found it turns evil to great good.’

Why does our text have Frodo say "turns evil to great good," instead of something like "is a great good in a time of evil."  Faramir's kindness doesn't just ease the experience of the Quest.  Taking Frodo's words literally, the trials he's endured are not just worth it.  They, themselves, are good.

It's easy to find goodness among evil as an oasis from the struggle.  It's also tempting to see comforts in life as an escape from its regular hardships.  But this kind of disconnect - this either/or - may lead us to unhealthy places.  It could cause someone to want more comforts and less hardship.  But we all know people so privileged they view any obstacle as a deep injustice.  I think regularly experiencing hardship is probably good for people.

If the world was already good, that would seem obviously good.  However, I think the world would also become fragile.  A child who was given a sheltered upbringing, upon hearing about someone wrongfully arrested, is going to be startled such things occur.  Experiencing the imperfections of the world regularly (which encompasses anything from someone being fully evil to simply running into an inconvenience - a restaurant that doesn't cater to your dietary requirements) steels us against them.  If we wish to fight wrong, we must be willing to encounter it.  How will we know where it is otherwise?  Our fight against wrongs strengthens us by giving us practice in fighting wrongs.  At the end, not only do we right wrong X, but we become better equipped for the next fight.

When we encounter wrong, we shouldn't merely gasp at its persistence.  Maybe we will as an involuntary reaction.  How wonderful is it we live in a world where we can go a few days or even weeks without issue!  But after the shock of the reminder wears off we must ask: How can we overcome it?  

My own circle has become worried about the spike in antisemitism at anti-war protests (and other places) around the world.  I take heart in the fact many people disapprove, and that the police are protecting, not attacking, the Jews.  This "turns evil to great good."  I'm not safe from antisemitism because antisemitism is gone - because it may return.  I'm safe from antisemitism because I can count on others to defend me.  Far from make me worry for my family's safety, these protests have bolstered my sense of security, odd as that sounds.

Maybe the lesson of defeating evil is not that it is defeated, but that we proved it defeatable.  And if it can be done once, it can be done again and again and again.  We should therefore expect to repeat these struggles instead of allowing us to believe one defeat is enough.  And each time we win we should celebrate not its defeat but our capability to make the world a better place.

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

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On fear

Maybe I made a mistake.  Last week I said "Any principle is better than none, even a bad one."  On further reflection, that's not enough.  I've long said an ethical guide needs to be useful to have value.  It's easy to say what is right in an unrealistic way.  But these weekly deadlines are tireless, and I gotta to hit publish at some point.

Not that "Any principle is better than none, even a bad one" isn't true.  But when writing that sentence I think I should have made the classic correlation/causation check.  If there appears to be a relationship between X and Y, but X doesn't matter, the relationship to Y probably doesn't matter, either.  So if the content of your principle doesn't matter, what is it about having a principle (even if its bad) that makes it worthwhile?  That's what we'll look at today.

In this week's chapter, called "The Forbidden Pool," Faramir wakes Frodo up to show him Gollum, who has found their secret hideout.  He cannot be allowed to leave on his own because he could tell orcs of what he has found.

‘Shall we shoot?’ said Faramir, turning quickly to Frodo. Frodo did not answer for a moment. Then ‘No!’ he said. ‘No! I beg you not to.’ If Sam had dared, he would have said ‘Yes,’ quicker and louder.

Frodo is thinking - what is he thinking about?  I'd guess he is weighing the opportunity to be rid of Gollum against the Quest, and Gollum's necessary role in getting them into Mordor undetected.  The Quest, he decides, must come first.  Sam also makes a decision, and faster:  Kill Gollum.  However, he serves Frodo, whom he doesn't want to undermine.  He holds his tongue.

Both principles (the Quest, or deference to another) require thought.  As I said last time, principles rarely become instincts.  In both cases, their instinct is to kill Gollum.  But natural instinct is not necessarily the way to a higher calling.

Faramir again points out they can't let Gollum go.  Frodo's protests that Gollum probably doesn't even know there's a secret hideout in the area (He's in the titular forbidden pool because he is fishing).  Faramir insists Gollum must be reunited with Frodo, and only then will he allow him to leave him.  Frodo goes down to fetch Gollum, and while they are talking Gollum is captured by the men.  A series of misunderstandings make Gollum think Frodo tricked him for that purpose.  As an aside, Gollum is also shocked to realize he's stumbled upon anything of note - it seems clear he really thought he had just found a nice fishing spot.

By the time Frodo and Sam leave with Gollum, what trust had been between them has been broken.  Whatever part of Smeagol would resist Gollum's plan to turn Frodo over to Shelob is now thoroughly demoralized.  They both agree: Frodo is not to be trusted.

All this happens because Faramir is afraid.  For him, the whole conversation there is a clock ticking - if they let Gollum get away, then there is a danger they have so far avoided.  He doesn't give himself the opportunity to think clearly - because thinking is time spent not acting, and acting is what prevents that danger.

Ethics is doing the harder thing, and that harder thing is waiting.  It is harder to double-check, to take a few breaths, to delay for more evidence, to consider the possibility you are wrong.  It's easy to see why it's harder:  We're almost always up against something.  If not a lidless, all-seeing Eye then the assumptions of other people, or our financials, or an emotional pull, or hunger, or any other source of urgency.  Acting fast looks to be a virtue.  It absolutely has some value.  "Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good enough," is true.  But also don't let yourself be pushed by fear into action.  Don't believe any action is better than none.  Had Faramir been persuaded to do nothing then Gollum would never have known how close he was to their secret hideout and simply left the area when he was done fishing.

Any principle (even a bad one) is better than none because any principle requires you to pause and consider the implications of your actions.

Ethics, therefore, requires patience.  Fear - while also the mind-killer and a step towards the Dark Side - undermines our capacity to do good.  If you see someone pushing another to make a quick decision, they aren't being ethical.  If you see someone use danger to demand immediate action, they aren't being ethical.  A company following a credo of "move fast and break things" won't lead to ethical outcomes.

When we feel pressed - when urgent need pushes us to make a fast decision - it is imperative we grab control of the situation as soon as possible and resist the temptation to follow our gut.  Sure, jump out of the way of the train or defend yourself from an attack or flee from that tsunami - but as soon as you  are able to take a moment to think about your actions.  Where will they lead?  Are they building the kind of world you want to live in?  Are they reflective of the kind of person you want to be?

In our lives those life-and-death examples above are less likely.  But we've all felt urgency in other ways: The oncoming train of social pressure to take a stand; A crude remark from a stranger online or in the street; The tsunami of stress that makes us feel overwhelmed.  An quick response in the moment may feel good but it's probably not the one you'd choose if you had more time.  It's not the one you'd recommend to a friend.

Thoughtfulness, not immediacy, is the ethical way.  Think of your ethical role models.  Whoever they are, they probably spent a lot of time thinking and planning, and less time doing.  Their actions were the result of careful consideration so that their broader goals were met.

Acting on instinct, on fear, is going to lead you astray.  All those examples, whether the train or the stress, make us afraid.  If we don't act fast, our secret hideout may be revealed!  But that fear may be entirely unfounded.  It certainly will not be a helpful guide.

The world's a scary place.  There's no shame in being afraid.  Feeling fear is too natural for me to say "Stop it!"   However, ethics gives us something to lean on when the fear comes.  It gives us something more important than fitting in with friends or than having the perfect comeback.  It certainly gives us a concrete alternative, versus advice to simply ignore those things.

So here's the thing - and apologies for the abrupt ending, but it's now TUESDAY MORNING and, well, these deadlines are tireless y'all.  Ethics is doing the harder thing, which is resisting fear.

This was supposed to go up May 4th, when this connection would have been a bit more natural.  If I ever did a crossover post, it would be interesting to see how not only fear can pull us from ethics, but also hate and anger and suffering.  But we will have to wait for another time for that.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 5% to this post's final version.

On what is easier

This week we read another double portion, "Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbits" & "The Window on the West."  In these chapters, we meet Faramir, Boromir's younger, but considerably wiser brother.  I usually don't like writing about Faramir because he is too wise.  He doesn't err and he has very few faults.  From the very start he says he is not interested in Isildur's Bane (This was the line of poetry which set Boromir on his quest to Rivendell - No one in Gondor knows it refers to the One Ring).

But I hit upon an idea for how to frame thinking about him which I think is illuminating.  Faramir is living an ethical life.  Through examination of his actions we can see how to identify when we (and others) are in it for the ethics and not in it for the power.  Let's begin with Faramir's first response when he learns Frodo and Sam may have Isildur's Bane:

‘But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway.
Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using

the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs...

War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would

devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the

arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that

which they defend: the city of the Men of Numenor; and I would

have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her

present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.'

And a line previous, in which he guesses at Boromir's downfall (His on-the-nose guesses are one of the things I think make him wise to the point of dullness):

‘What in truth this Thing [Isildur's Bane], is I cannot yet guess; but some heirloom of power

and peril it must be. A fell weapon, perchance, devised by the Dark Lord. If it were a

thing that gave advantage in battle, I can well believe that Boromir, the proud and fearless,

often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might

desire such a thing and be allured by it. Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should

have been chosen by my father and the elders, but he put himself forward, as being

the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed.'

But perhaps Faramir was acutely aware of his brother's weaknesses.  Maybe he saw how Boromir's desire for their father's approval, or his attraction to glory, undermined the stout-hearted man he could otherwise be.  We see here Boromir doesn't seek the Ring just because he wants its power.  He wants the Ring because he wants to be a savior.  He wants to be loved and believes saving Minas Tirith will earn him that love.  Would it?  Probably - at least for the moment.  But, as we've discussed before, it wouldn't end there (refer to the link above about power).  Either Denethor and the people's love would need to be placated again and again, to Boromir's dismay, or - if their love was permanently earned - he would seek love from others, or glory in new places.  Placing so much value on the approval of others is a great danger to Boromir.

Faramir, though, is guided by his principles. He has decided what is right and what is wrong. Maybe he is capital-W wrong about those things, but they are a defined category. He doesn't need to be seen loving what the sword defends or not slaying needlessly or declining triumphs. That's the problem of virtue signaling - not that it's bad to be seen doing good (we may inspire others to do good!) - but that we are doing good in order to be seen.

Then again - who cares why we donate to the poor, and if we get some prestige out of it what's the harm? Because eventually, as we fear for Boromir, that will not be enough. We'll need to also give away the shirt off our back, our leisure hours, our vacation plans, etc. And when those things are not enough to please the crowd, what then? Further, if we give charity for the recognition, will we be charitable when no one is watching?

Worse - and I think more realistic currently - what if those we wish to be seen by neglect to cheer? Or if the crowd has turned against charity. Then, tethered to their approval, we must find something else. Our actions, it turns out, were not driven by ethics, but by approval - and the power that comes with being seen doing good. Even if we manage to find a new group that will praise our original actions, we still seem to need the group's - any group's - praise.

Faramir has a code of ethics. If he decides to kill he will use whatever evaluation method he's come up with. Even if his method is wrong, it will be more predictable than appealing to the crowd.

This is how he's able to resist the Ring. Not just resist it, but seem invincible to it just as Tom Bombadil was! Tom is also unaffected by the approval of others, but his code of ethics is one of balance with a dash of plain kindness, whereas Faramir's seem more noble to me. Still, things end better for Tom than Boromir.

So Faramir is living for his ethics. Let's see what example he sets for the rest of us. First, an early scene with him: Sam wakes up to find Faramir questioning Frodo about Boromir, whom Frodo has said was with him when he set out on the Quest. Faramir tells Frodo Boromir has died. Frodo is surprised to hear this. The two of them put together that Boromir died the same day Frodo left. This obviously raises Faramir's suspicions. Sam, unable to take this line of questioning, runs up and stands between the two of them.

‘See here!’ [Sam] said [to Faramir]. ‘What are you driving at? Let’s come to the point before all
the Orcs of Mordor come down on us! If you think my master murdered this
Boromir and then ran away, you’ve got no sense; but say it, and have done! And then let us know
what you mean to do about it. But it’s a pity that folk as talk about fighting the Enemy can’t
let others do their bit in their own way without interfering. He’d be mighty
pleased, if he could see you now. Think he’d got a new friend, he would.’

‘Patience!’ said Faramir, but without anger. ‘Do not speak before your master, whose wit is greater than yours.
And I do not need any to teach me of our peril. Even so, I spare a brief time, in order to judge
justly in a hard matter. Were I as hasty as you, I might have slain you long ago.
For I am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the Lord of Gondor.
But I do not slay man or beast needlessly, and not gladly even when it is needed.’

Because he is committed to his principles, and not to getting the compliments of people, Faramir can take his time.  If Boromir wants glory for defeating the enemy, he has to be the one to do it.  That means he has to do it first, which presses speed upon him, which prevents him from being thoughtful.  But Faramir can be patient - unlike Sam who is tethered to Frodo and must act quickly if something goes wrong.  Faramir is willing to defy orders if he thinks those orders are wrong.

(While this may seem an example of being "tethered to others" that isn't necessarily wrong think it is because when Frodo gives in to the Ring Sam is unwilling to do anything about it.  Would he defy Frodo's commands if they were wrong?  If Gollum wasn't also at the Crack of Doom, would Sam have let Middle Earth burn for the sake of his friend?)

 ‘I would not snare even an orc with a falsehood,’ said Faramir.

Faramir will not lie to get his way - not even to an orc. He doesn't need to trick anybody, his principles are holding him firm enough that he is confident in a fair fight. He might still lose, and we should not be naive about that, but it is admirable nonetheless.

‘But, Frodo, I pressed you hard at first about Isildur’s Bane. Forgive me!
It was unwise in such an hour and place. I had not had time for thought.

When Faramir apologizes to Frodo it is precisely for acting too quickly and not giving the matter enough thought. He has the tools to do the right thing, but of course must consult them regularly. Our principles will rarely become our instincts.

Finally, let's revisit one of the first passages I highlighted:

If it were a thing that gave advantage in battle, I can well believe that
Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas
Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a thing and be allured by it.
Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should have been chosen by my father
and the elders, but he put himself forward, as being

the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed.'

Though Faramir would have been better suited to go to Rivendell, it is precisely his cool-headedness that allowed Boromir's boldness to sideline him.  Here we can see those best equipped for a task may not be willing to say so and we should be willing to advocate on their behalf when the time comes.  Those who are self-assured may be led astray by that same feeling.

Not only did Gondor fail Middle Earth by not sending Faramir, but it also failed Boromir by sending him on a mission he could not handle.  He was in it for the glory.  Better Boromir be left home, raving against father and brother for preventing a chance at praise, than to let him fall to the temptation.

I've long said ethics is doing the harder thing.  But I've continually avoided defining the obvious question - harder than what?  When I first tried to answer this I had said refraining from extremes.  I still think that's true, but I also think it's too abstract to be much use.  I think now we have a more concrete answer.

Ethics is doing the harder thing.  The easier thing is listening to peer pressure and our own desire for recognition.  Who doesn't like a kind word and a warm smile?  The hope others will speak well of us?  When those are our rewards it's easy to get ourselves to do anything.  That could mean donating to charity but it could also mean making our neighborhood Judenfrei.  To live ethically we need to resist that temptation.  We need something more predictable and stable - we need principles.  I think even wrong principles are preferable to none since one can later learn and adopt new and better principles.  It is the practice of having principles, more than the principles themselves, that is the key to an ethical life.

Having principles to refer to can shield us from the desire to please others.  Not completely, of course; we're only human!   But the sooner we can commit to a principle - any principle - the better it will be for our pursuit of an ethical life.  Attempting to live an ethical life by seeking the approval of others is like following a plastic bag blowing in the wind hoping it will bring you peace.

This is part one of what became a two-part post.  Read the second part here.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 1% to this post's final version.  But it was an important 1% because I really wanted to stick the landing on that final sentence.

On working together

This week we read "The Black Gate is Closed.  In this chapter, Gollum has brought the Hobbits to the Black Gate.  But not only is it physically closed, as the title suggests, it is well-guarded.

Frodo announces his intent to enter through the gate, which sends Gollum into a frenzy.  Frodo insists that he must enter Mordor, and Gollum says he knows another way, which would be safer, if Frodo is really committed to what Gollum often reminds him is a dangerous plan.

To all appearances Gollum was genuinely distressed and
anxious to help Frodo.  But Sam, remembering the overheard
debate, found it hard to believe that the long submerged Smeagol
had come out on top... Sam's guess was that the Smeagol and Gollum
halves (or what in his own mind he called Slinker and Stinker) had made a
truce and a temporary alliance: neither wanted the Enemy to the get the
Ring; both wished to keep Frodo from capture, and under their eye.

(A bit of context: Previously Sam had awoken during the night and he overheard Gollum having an argument with himself.  He heard him say "She" can help him get back the Ring.  He concludes Gollum has an ally he intends to lead them to.)

Smeagol and Gollum both want the Ring back.  Their disagreement is largely about whether to kill Frodo for it.  They have sworn to serve the master of the Precious - they never once swear to serve Frodo by name.   A loophole has been found!  If they can take the Ring then they can still be loyal to the oath.  But Smeagol would still rather not kill Frodo if he can avoid it.

But they definitely absolutely agree Sauron should not get back the Ring, and that Frodo should remain in their company.  Both of these objectives serve their common goal of getting back the Ring.  This makes Sam very suspicious of even the kinder Smeagol.

What can we make of this partnership?  Sam's suspicion is justified - but that doesn't mean this partnership is wholly bad. 

I've tried to keep away from politics this year, as leading an ethical life is much more than politics.  But this seems like the right time to break the seal, as it were, and delve in.

My wife, Sam, and I do not agree on everything.  We have different preferences, as well as practical disagreements, like how to organize the living room.  We also have political disagreements.  If I have such disagreements with someone whom I love and speak to every day, I should expect to have disagreements with others.  I should especially expect to have disagreements with politicians whom I don't know personally.

A politician I vote for (or even one I don't) is supposed to be my representative in the government.  I don't have the time or inclination to understand the details of every single policy, and even the ones I care about... well I have a limited bandwidth.  So I try to reach out to those elected to represent me.  This is a new practice of mine.  I want to my preferred views known to those who represent me.  We all should - how else will they know?

And I don't just mean nationally, but state and locally, too.  In fact, I find I more regularly get a real response from local politicians.

But my power as a single voter is small.  I should find others to cooperate with.  Let's take prescription drugs - I think there should be a cap on those costs.  If I meet a Republican who also thinks that, I can work with him on this topic.  A Trump supporter at the capitol on January 6th?  As long as this time she'll use legitimate means, yes!  A communist who thinks all medication should be freely provided by the state according to the people's needs?  If they're willing to accept the baby steps of lower costs on their path to zero cost, sure!

Now I can go to that politician and say "Hey, I have a group of people who think X, and are willing to vote on it.  Will you do what it takes to earn our vote?"  Maybe we grow to 100.  Maybe we become a political action committee and run ads, urging voters to prioritize this issue and getting on the politician's radar that way.

We may have divergent views on many other things.  Demanding perfect alignment on everything to agitate for change on one thing dooms us to failure quickly.  We may be suspicious of each other - the Communist is right to worry we abandon them on their long-term plans.  The Trump supporter may worry this policy win will advantage Biden.  I may worry the law will pass but not come into effect later, when we possibly have a Republican president who can take credit.  We may have a temporary alliance, but to focus on the temporary nature obscures the real alliance between us.  The one permanent bond in my life I've committed to is to Sam (My wife, not the hobbit - though they are both gardeners) .  That doesn't mean I should scoff at other potential opportunities for cooperation.  Life is fleeting.  We can't let temporal limits stop us from making gains where we can.  Everything is a limited time offer, technically.

Sam (the hobbit), unwittingly, is also part of this temporary alliance. Sam also doesn't want Frodo captured or for Sauron to take back the Ring.  He'll have to be careful to offload their cooperation when they try to go their own direction, but it's doubtless their help will be valuable to him.  It's true that Frodo's plan to approach the Black Gate is doomed to failure, and it is not Sam who knows of an alternative way in.

Sam has the benefit of despair.  In our lives, we can imagine a perfect candidate and be reasonably hopefully they'll appear.  Sam's situation is so much worse that he doesn't have time for such dreams.  He has to take what he can.

I think we'd benefit from that reality-check, too.  A perfect candidate may one day appear.  Will they appear by this upcoming November?  Doubtful.  But potholes don't get fixed on their own.  That's something a wide contingent of voters probably want fixed.  Organizing a bloc of voters who demand re-pavement as a local priority is easier than many other priorities I can think of.

While we've been discussing politics here, I've still made a conscious effort to avoid national politics, for as Big Deal as that is, we live in a country with layers of elected officials.  Whoever gets elected to the White House isn't going to affect whether the park you live near is properly cared for, or if the public transit improves.  National issues matter, of course, but we can affect local ones much more.  And if we don't, someone else will.  So get heard and get organized.

If you're looking for a great book on this topic which I just finished reading and highly recommend, check out Politics is for Power by Eitan Hersh.  If you're interested, I got some extra copies I'd be happy to lend out.  Or check your local library.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 15% to this post's final version.

On death

This week we read "The Passage of the Marshes," which details Frodo and Sam's growing partnership with Gollum.  He has lead them out of Emyn Muil, and now guides them through dangerous marshland.

But beyond the regular dangers of a marshland - namely sinking beneath the weeds and water - these marshes hold another risk, which Sam discovers when he looks beneath the surface of the water.

‘There are dead things, dead faces in the water,’ he said with horror. ‘Dead faces!’...
‘Yes, yes,’ said Gollum. ‘All dead, all rotten. Elves and Men and Orcs.
The Dead Marshes. There was a great battle long ago, yes, so they told him when
Smeagol was young, when I was young before the Precious came. It was a great battle.
Tall Men with long swords, and terrible Elves, and Orcses shrieking. They fought on
the plain for days and months at the Black Gates. But the Marshes have grown since
then, swallowed up the graves; always creeping, creeping.’
‘But that is an age and more ago,’ said Sam. ‘The Dead can’t be
really there! Is it some devilry hatched in the Dark Land?’
‘Who knows? Smeagol doesn’t know,’ answered Gollum. ‘You cannot reach them, you
cannot touch them. We tried once, yes, precious. I tried once; but you cannot reach them.
Only shapes to see, perhaps, not to touch. No precious! All dead.’

It's an interesting observation that Middle Earth experiences evil, or at least something unsettling, that may not be the work of Sauron.  Certainly, Sam assumes he must be behind it, but we know that isn't necessarily true.

So why do these dead remain?  It seems obvious they were left on the field to rot - swallowed up by the fens.  But why would the Elves and Men allow that?  Impossible to know.

There are a few spirits in Middle Earth we meet throughout our text.  The Nazgul, the oathbreakers of Dunharrow whom Aragorn summons, and the Barrow-wights.  The first two suffer from unfinished business.  The Nazgûl are bound to the Ring, and the Dead Army are bound to their oath.  The Barrow-wights's reason for being is much less clear.  The text mentions "Barrow-wights walked in the hollow places with a clink of rings on cold fingers, and gold chains in the wind," (although when the hobbits are captured by the Barrow-wights they appear suddenly and silently).  The Barrow-wights are, in some ways, tied to their material wealth.  But what about these spirits?

We don't get any information about them beyond this chapter.  They end up being just one of many references that make Middle Earth feel very, very large - but perhaps full only of loose ends and incomplete ideas.  There may be some explanation in the appendices, but for these write-ups I always try to stay to the main text.  I could never properly refer to all of Tolkien's writing without much more time, which I don't have.  I also, frankly, don't think have much interest.  I find Middle Earth lore, largely, dull.

Death is inevitable.  Would it be better to return as a spirit, or to go onward?  Our text makes it clear that remaining behind is bad.  None of these spirits are doing good in the world, or are happy about remaining.  While we might plausibly argue the Nazgûl could be happy about serving their master in perpetuity, I think within the text that is impossible.  Orcs can experience joy, though their laughter is generally harsh and their smiles vicious.  The Nazgûl are associated with despair.  They don't serve Sauron out of loyalty or love.

Death is inevitable, but the Ring thwarts death.  Gollum and Bilbo both live unnaturally long.  Gollum's life becomes one of suffering and loyalty without love - this is true before he loses the Ring.  We see Bilbo occasionally give into the Ring's temptation, and know in those moments he is not overwhelmed with joy.  While Frodo doesn't have the Ring long enough to impact his lifespan, it does suck the joy out of his life.  He experiences very little on his journey - and even after it is gone.

Whether ghosts exist or not is beyond my scope.  Certainly dying with unfinished business is unfair, because now someone else must finish it - or deal with the consequences.  Being bound to the material world too much has obvious ethical problems, too.  If ethics is doing the harder thing, giving up physical things is usually the more ethical choice.

Our text is teaching us to be wary of people and ideas that promise for immortality.  The Elves, we know, pay a price for theirs.  Death is inevitable, and attempts to circumvent it would have consequences beyond which we can prepare for.  Death is inevitable, so plan for it.  Include others in your business as much as possible, so when you do go the unfinished business at least isn't suddenly hoisted on others.  You don't have to carry it all, and you shouldn't anyway.  People are more willing to help than maybe you realize - they perhaps want to help.  When you die, they're going to have to help.  You ought to let them help while you're around, so that you can see their skills for yourself, offer assistance as appropriate, and then, when you go, you'll be more confident the work will continue to be done - and you'll have made some human connections along the way.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 10% to this post's final version.