On protection

This week we read "Many Partings" and "Homeward Bound," our final double chapter.  The ending of our text reverses the outward trip.  Many Partings mirrors the title "Many Meetings", which tells of the Hobbits arriving in Rivendell, where the Fellowship is formed.  In this chapter, the Fellowship is officially dissolved, and the Hobbits head to Rivendell to spend time with Bilbo, before eventually leaving him, too.  In Homeward Bound they return to Bree village and have a talk with Butterbur, the innkeeper, at whose tavern they met Strider and accidentally revealed the Ring.  He tells them things have changed for the worse since they left.  There have been fights and fires, and a few people have died.  Robbers and wolves assail the village.

You see, we’re not used to such troubles; and the Rangers have all gone away,
folk tell me. I don’t think we’ve rightly understood till now what they did for us.

We know what happened to the Rangers, they answered Aragorn's call to come to Minas Tirith to assist against Mordor.  A valiant purpose, but they left those they'd secretly protected suddenly vulnerable.

On the one hand, Bree (and the Shire) has developed what I think the Creative Wizard considers the ideal culture: Farming, drinking, laughing, celebrating.  They ignore the outside problems of the world, and those outside problems ignore them.

That's what we're made to think at the start of the book, anyway.  But now we see those outside problems were always trying to get in and it was the vigilance of the Rangers who kept them out - Rangers whom the people have never felt warmly toward!  This is how Barliman introduces Aragorn to Frodo in the beginning of the text: "He is one of the wandering folk – Rangers we call them. He seldom talks: not but what he can tell a rare tale when he has the mind. He disappears for a month, or a year, and then he pops up again. He was in and out pretty often last spring; but I haven’t seen him about lately. What his right name is I’ve never heard: but he’s known round here as Strider."

He was popping in and out keeping the peace!

We tend to think of a peaceful world as a world without conflict.  If there is conflict or injustice anywhere we are not in a peaceful world.  But that deprives us from appreciating goodness when we do have it.  Perfection is not the only thing worth celebrating.  But imperfection necessitiates maintance, and we should appreciate those who maintain our world wh.

If the Rangers are guilty of anything it was keeping their vigilance a secret.  They could have spent some of that time sharing their efforts with the locals and offering to train those who wished to join.  Instead they are so secretive no one even knows that they leave, except that their lives get worse once they're gone.

We're all guilty of secretly protecting people, in one way or another.  But that can make them dependent on us.  If we really want to protect whoever or whatever it is, we should empower it to be involved in its own safety.  Perhaps the Rangers believed destroying Mordor outweighed protecting Bree, since they were taking the fight to the source.  In that case this chapter reminds us that although The Ring has been destroyed, there is still violence and greed and other bads in the world.  They still should have included the locals in their watches.

We've said, over and over again, that all power is bad.  This includes powers we would use to protect others.  Protecting someone is a form of exercising power over them - you're preventing them from harm.  This is OK for children; All kindergartens should be protected, but all kindergarteners, eventually, grow up.  They need to learn how to protect themselves, and to take the risks of life upon themselves.

It is a false safety to be so protective of someone they become dependent on you.  They are actually more vulnerable.  If you die or leave to deal "with the source," they are ill-equipped to protect themselves.  True protection comes with empowerment.  In my line of work it's called faded supports - supporting someone less and less so they can practice more and more independence until finally you aren't needed at all.

It is natural to want to protect those we love from the dangers of the world.  But, if we love them, we also will want them to grow into autonomous and independent selves, which means facing those risks on their own.  So while we protect them we must also empower them.  This is the best protection we can provide - protection they can take with them when we are gone.

But that requires us to, first, tell them of the dangers.  We may not want to.  If we can protect them, why even burden them with the knowledge of their existence?  Well, at some point they will find out - don't you want to be involved in that?  We hoard power over them when we avoid these hard conversations.  And at some point we won't be there, and their dependence on us will become a great liability.  We should prepare them for that inevitability.

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On boredom

I hate being bored.  More than that, I am afraid of boredom, and am excessive when it comes to avoiding it.  Whenever I go on a trip I bring no less than 2 books and 3 board games - and usually also my Switch or 3DS.  And of course I always have my phone.  And not just trips out of town, but trips to Revere Beach in the afternoon.  Maiar forbid I just enjoy the ocean!

This project, too, is an effort to ward off boredom.  I don't like the idea of coming home from work and having nothing to do.  I don't just like goals, it's that even temporary goallessness makes me feel unmoored.

This week we read "The Steward and the King," which first follows the beginning of Eowyn and Faramir's love story, and then finishes with the culmination of the love story between Aragorn and Arwen.  When Eowyn and Faramir are introduced, it is because she has requested to see him so she can ask if she can leave the House of Healing.

‘What do you wish?’ he said again. ‘If it lies in my power, I will do it.’ ‘I would have you
command this Warden, and bid him let me go,’ she said; but though her words were still
proud, her heart faltered, and for the first time she doubted herself. She guessed that
this tall man, both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward, like a child that
has not the firmness of mind to go on with a dull task to the end.
‘I myself am in the Warden’s keeping,’ answered Faramir. ‘Nor have I yet taken up my authority
in the City. But had I done so, I should still listen to his counsel, and should
not cross his will in matters of his craft, unless in some great need.’

Ethics is doing the harder thing - and there's little in this world I find harder than being bored.  I do not have the firmness of mind to go on with a dull task.  I often interleave at least two tasks at once, so when one becomes dull I can switch.  At work a lot of my tasks are administrative, like data entry.  It gets dull.  So I'll do tasks two at once - making the weekly schedule and writing daily progress notes - and switch back and forth as necessary to keep my attention sharp (or, if you like, undulled).

Another way to keep your attention sharp is to interrupt the dullness.  My practice of turning away from dullness is close to that, but many inject excitement into dull activities.  But most of what is dull is inherently so.  If you change that you change what you are doing.  As the above references, protest movements which allow demonstrations that are exciting and eye-catching will be less effective.  Specific goals, closed-door meetings, and difficult compromises are less interesting and require a firmness of mind.  A belief you will get where you want to go, that whatever you're getting now is a good step, and an expectation people at least some people will be unhappy with you, but you're acting for the cause, not for approval.

Every march I've attended has a moment when things start to drag - you can only chant so much before it gets repetetive.  It is these moments when things break down - as if the point of the protest is to engage those protesting, and not agitate those in power.  

As with my work - I'm doing the task to get the data in.  There's not a good way to 'spice it up' without degrading the quality.  Microsoft Excel doesn't appreciate flair.

Another way to combat dullness is by becoming very interested in the activity.  We can't always control what interests us, but we all know there's some topic we can excitedly talk about in great detail even as the life drains from our audience's eyes.  The difference between something being fascinating or complicated is your level of interest.  If something is dull, you're probably not interested in it.

Eowyn does not lack firmness of mind entirely.  She becomes bored of healing because she doesn't want the healing.  But she's shown firmness recently:  She rode in secret from Rohan to Gondor - keeping Merry hidden, too!  Hiding can be exciting when you're being hunted, but nobody even thinks she's there.  She doesn't even tell Merry, who'd have no reason to tell anyone!

Eowyn wants to ride out and fight - and die!  She has a deathwish - which is necessarily unethical: Dying is easy!  She could use this time to develop some other skill, or speak to others in the House, or even just rest.  She has no interest in living a life - this is why she finds healing dull.  It's pushing her backward from her goal.  She wants to fight, she wants glory - and specifically a glorious death.

But ultimately learning to embrace boredom - a hard thing indeed! - can make for a very ethical life.  Boredom implies you'd like to do something else. You probably can; We always have lots of choices in life.  But just because you can do something doesn't mean you'd do it well, or that it's the right (or even a useful) choice.  If you're injured you go to the hospital and listen to the doctors and nurses.  If you're on a plane you let the pilot fly it.  If you're hungry at a restaurant you don't barge into the kitchen.

It is now Monday evening and I absolutely must finish this post.  This is an unfinished thought, and I may return and amend it.  But I think becoming tolerant of boredom is important to living an ethical life.  Not because boredom isn't annoying, but because disrupting our boredom is not the highest good.  It may be the best thing for us to sit by and let others take action - or react to what we are doing.  We don't need to be in charge all the time, or pound people over the head with a message.  Let them sleep on it.  When we act, we necessarily are using our power.  Power is a dangerous tool.  But "...we cannot eliminate power. The best we can do is create a balance of it..." Sometimes that means empowering others, sometimes that means disempowering ourselves - or at least not using all that we have.  Sometimes the harder thing is boring.  That does not excuse us from doing it.

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On forever

This week begins the winding down of our text.  The Ring has been destroyed, and now we only must see through our characters and where they all end up.  Frodo and Sam, rescued by Gandalf and the Eagles, are now in Gondor, and - having slept for some days - are told they will be honored for their success.

Frodo and Sam were led apart and brought to a tent, and there their old raiment was taken off, but folded
and set aside with honour; and clean linen was given to them. Then Gandalf came and in his arms, to the wonder
of Frodo, he bore the sword and the elven-cloak and the mithril-coat that had been taken from him in Mordor.
For Sam he brought a coat of gilded mail, and his elven-cloak all healed of the soils and hurts that it
had suffered; and then he laid before them two swords.
‘I do not wish for any sword,’ said Frodo.
‘Tonight at least you should wear one,’ said Gandalf.
Then Frodo took the small sword that had belonged to Sam, and had been laid at his side in Cirith Ungol.
‘Sting I gave to you Sam,’ he said.
‘No, master! Mr. Bilbo gave it to you, and it goes with his silver coat; he would not wish anyone else to wear it now.’
Frodo gave way.

We understand why Frodo doesn't want a sword.  He's been through a lot, he's missing a finger on his sword-hand, and at no point in the Quest was he a particularly eager or skilled fighter.  He also gave Sting to Sam and may feel some dishonor at taking it back, even just for a performance.

We'd expect Gandalf to be more sympathetic.  We've already learned Gandalf thought the Quest was a fool's hope.  Having gone through with it, succeeded, and survived(!), why is Gandalf pressuring him to wear a sword in a ceremony?  If anyone can be exempt of expectations, it should be Frodo!

But Frodo, the hero, still has a role to play.  Middle Earth will not endure any more because of Frodo's choices.  He has done the Quest and now must accept the gratitude of Gondor.  That means appearing as they expect him - ready to do battle.  Perhaps one day they will understand Frodo's Quest is not comparable to the defense of Gondor, but the people had just survived two terrible battles, and decades of aggression (not to mention the battles in their histories against Sauron).  It may be difficult for them to accept a hero who was also not a warrior.  Gandalf knows this.  If they see Frodo as he is, they may be resentful the solution was so simple - or resentful their savior didn't take it as seriously.  Resentment is a powerful poison.  They require the hero they imagine.  Frodo sticking to his self-image will only undermine the victory he worked so hard to gain.

Sam is much more surprising in his stance.  Sam would do anything for Frodo - what does he care that he not only has a sword, but Sting in particular?  Sam, again, realizes the importance of meeting the expectations of others, but Sam's focus is on who Frodo cares about, which is not the people of Gondor, but of Bilbo.

Bilbo will hear of this celebration - he will certainly ask Frodo to describe it to him even if he's heard it before.  He'll feel very good knowing he contributed to his nephew's prestige, and Frodo will enjoy seeing his uncle's pride.  Sam knows this, and so he pushes Frodo because he knows Frodo will, eventually, wish he had done it, if only for the sake of a good tale.

Often we want what is easy for ourselves, but what is best for others.  We're all familiar with seeing a problem clearly when someone else is facing it but somehow be paralyzed by indecision when that problem is our own.  Sam knows what Frodo will want to have done, and that Frodo will have to endure the consequences of his actions for longer than the actual actions.  Sam also knows Frodo will oblige if he thinks his uncle will gain satisfaction from it.  Frodo will only do the harder thing if he believes it is for the benefit of another.  Indeed that's been Frodo's MO all along.

If Frodo had gotten his way he would have taken part in a celebration which would belittle him, and thus the Quest he endured so much to achieve.  He would have had to face Bilbo's pity that he did not enjoy the revelry, rather than bask in his joy at his own success.  Forever.

Forever is a long time.  The present pleasure or leisure will be fleeting, but we can carry the sense of accomplishment of a hard task for a long time.  We can carry the shame of shirking our duties for a long time, too.

The lesson, then, is not just to push ourselves toward accomplishment, but to understand we will all fail to do so if we are alone.  We must surround ourselves with people who want what's best for us, not best for their comfort (which would lead them to avoid arguments and to indulge us).  If someone is pushing you it is because they value not just the present-you but future-you who will have to deal with the consequences of your actions.  They want future-you to look at present-you and be proud.

I have occasionally heard people say an accomplishment wasn't worth the effort - I have rarely heard them then say they wish they'd never done it.  I've never heard someone say they were glad they gave into their impulses.  But give in we will, unless we have someone else with us who will remind us of our values and that our life's worth is not measured in pleasure or leisure, but in our accomplishments and what we did for other people.  The easy choice can give us a moment of pleasure followed by a lifetime of regret.

Update:  In the next chapter we hear someone from Gondor say, "One of [the hobbits] went with only his esquire into the Black Country and fought with the Dark Lord all by himself, and set fire to his Tower, if you can believe it." 

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On comparing

This past weekend I was busy hosting Boston Massacre, a Diplomacy Tournament, and though I hoped to use Sunday evening or Monday to post, I am frankly much too exhausted and now it is Tuesday.  So rather than share my thoughts about these comparisons I found, I'll just leave the comparisons, and leave the thinking to all of you :)

This week we read "Mount Doom," the final struggle of the Ring, and its lucky destruction.  During this chapter Sam rises to the occasion in two specific ways similar to Frodo earlier in our text.  First, Sam is reflecting on the people he left behind in the Shire, and how everything has gone wrong since Gandalf died in Moria.  Recalling this grief, we are told,

But even as hope died in Sam, or seemed to die, it was turned to a new strength. Sam’s plain
hobbit-face grew stern, almost grim, as the will hardened in him, and he felt through all his
limbs a thrill, as if he was turning into some creature of stone and steel that neither despair
nor weariness nor endless barren miles could subdue.

This parallels very nearly with Frodo's experience in the Barrows.

But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the very darkness that was round him,
he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along
together in the lanes of the Shire and talking about roads and adventures.There is a seed of courage
hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some
final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he
did not know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought
he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him. He found
himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey.

Shortly later Sam has picked Frodo up and walked with him on his back up the slope of the mountain.  There is no path, nor can he see any opening into the mountain.  After a while, he puts Frodo down, exhausted at the effort.

Frodo opened his eyes and drew a breath. It was easier to breathe up here above the reeks that
coiled and drifted down below. ‘Thank you, Sam,’ he said in a cracked whisper. ‘How far is
there to go?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Sam, ‘because I don’t know where we’re going.’

And this is what Frodo says at the conclusion of the Council of Elrond,

‘I will take the Ring,’ he said, ‘though I do not know the way.’

Let me know your thoughts!

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On defiance

This week we read "The Land of Shadow."  While Return of the King begins with my favorite chapter (Minas Tirith) it also has my least favorite as well, this one.  There isn't a lot going on, and it drags.  Unless perhaps it is meant to evoke the feeling of wandering through the desolate land of Mordor.

As Sam and Frodo journey through Mordor on the last stage of their Quest they take a rest under a thicket.

Frodo sighed and was asleep... Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo’s hand;
and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself awake, he crawled
from the hiding-place and looked out... Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky
was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high
up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart,
as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold,
the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was
 light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather
than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his
master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s
side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.

This moment is comforting.  Sam takes solace in the belief Sauron will never be able to conquer the stars.  Beauty is eternal and can never be fully kept at bay.  Even if all of Middle Earth would be conquered, sunsets will endure.  Caves will glitter and the Sea will wash the shores.  Perhaps there will be music in the industrial rhythm of Mordor's iron-making, or architecture to appreciate in Uruk towers.

It is comforting, but misleading.  There won't be any Free Peoples to appreciate these beauties!  Whatever good beauty is per se, it is necessarily increased by an audience.  Sam's hope doesn't empower him - it literally lulls him to sleep.

Sam's song of defiance in the tower was better than this hopeful comfort.  He should think of himself, for in thinking of himself he necessarily will consider others.  Hope can be quiet and personal.  Defiance must take an active form.  His defiance in Cirith Ungol, though born of dispair (literally a lack of hope), leads him to find and rescue Frodo.

While we should consider the consequences of our actions beyond our lifetimes, we should remain troubled by our own fate and by that of those around us.  Hoping the world will be OK does not make it so - only defiance, or some other motivation for action, can do that.  Hope is not a motivator - it is a comfort.

All of us can think of something in the world which bothers us.  We should not just hope things improve; We must be defiant.  Sleep does not get the job done!

Maybe this appears in this chapter precisely to demonstrate when we are most vulnerable to hope.  Mordor is dull, it is dark, it is dangerous.  It drags.  It is an overbearing experience.  Sam falls into 'untroubled sleep' while under a thicket of thorns.  This is not a wise decision, noble though it may appear!

Fortunately, Frodo and Sam take a more active role after this scene, and their defiance pushes them to act far beyond what they believe their limit is.  The countless times, throughout our whole text, characters act rather than hope gives us an indication of what the text thinks we usually ought to do.  Perhaps if we are stressed to the point of being overwhelmed, our senses dulled by repeated injustice,  clinging to hope and catching some rest is wise.  But it is a tactic to be used sparingly, not a strategy to guide our pursuit of an ethical life.

To right the wrongs of the world, you must defy them.

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On lacking

Hello from my new desk, now in our library instead!  Let's see if this new writing venue improves my punctuality.

This week we read "The Tower of Cirith Ungol."  Leaving behind the rest of our heroes, we return to the land of Mordor, and Sam's rescue of Frodo.  He is in enemy territory and at a disadvantage at every turn.  During one confrontation with an orc we are told:

But the orc was in its own haunts, nimble and well-fed.
Sam was a stranger, hungry and weary.

Sam's disadvantage is clear.  However, the contrast is not as structured as it could be.  In its own haunts/stranger are opposites, but nimble/hungry and well-fed/weary are incorrect.  Nimble and well-fed should be switched.  Although, even if the Creative Wizard had aligned those words, nimble and weary are not really opposites.  What does this construction teach us?

The orc is defending his home.  He is quick and has eaten recently.  These things are important in that order - he has home advantage, as well as an advantage of being quick.  Being quick isn't much help if you're in enemy territory, where you may not know where to go.

Well-fed seems an afterthought in comparison.  Danger is afoot!  Food can wait.  Especially if he's recently eaten.

But Sam is out of his element.  On top of that, he is hungry and tired (Particularly poor conditions for a hobbit).  All three of these things will weigh him down.  Danger is afoot and food can wait - but even if he wins the fight there is no guarantee of food (or rest).

The orc can consider his agility because he is well-fed.  He is not weary to the point it doesn't even bear stating.  Even if Sam could be nimble, he will not be now.  We've all been hungry.  Being hungry sucks.  It can make you cranky and impact anything else you do.  Whatever your potential is, hunger will inhibit it.

Being weary similarly can affect you, but for me anyway being hungry is worse.  Maybe it's all those years at summer camp and working campus security - I not only have experience working odd hours but I really liked those jobs!  Even if you can't get a full sleep at the moment you can at least get a quick 5-minute shut-eye.  That's achievable in most places of our lives.  But hunger requires something from outside - something we may not have on-hand.

Alternatively, perhaps because food is usually readily available to me (and eating is pleasurable) hunger is worse because I wonder how did I let myself get to this point?  Why haven't I eaten?  It's so easy to fix, whereas a quick shut-eye, in and of itself, isn't particularly pleasurable.

Biological needs, if met, can be forgotten.  But if you ever need to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom or sit down and you're not able to then it suddenly becomes urgent.  I think that's why hunger comes second but well-fed comes third.

It is a good reminder that not only do people experience needs differently, but the experience of needing can upend ourselves.  When our needs are met it can be easy to forget what it's like when they are not.  That means we have less compassion for those who are lacking - precisely those who need compassion more than others.  It is important, then, to remember that lacking something is more than the lack; it also saps a person's energy or mood.

Learning people's points of view is essentially to living ethically - even if you disapprove you need to understand them in order to hope to persuade them (and if you don't hope to persuade them then you must endure their alternative point of view (or seek to kill them)). But people's points of view are more than the intellect and experience behind them.  They are also their state of mind - hunger, exhaustion, pain, fright, etc.  If you live comfortably, your persuasion of someone who is uncomfortablele ought to take that into account.  Otherwise, your attempt will seem ridiculous and breed only contempt.

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Against political violence

This week we read "The Black Gate Opens."  Gandalf, Aragorn and nearly everyone else rides to the gates of Mordor to challenge Sauron.  They do this not to win but to divert his attention from Frodo, whom they merely must hope remains alive.  They know they will never defeat Sauron in a battle of arms; this battle is only a tactic to distract him.

Even if they win Sauron will eventually send another wave of minions, and another and another. It is fortunate the Ring is destroyed during the battle, interrupting it. Had Frodo and Sam been delayed a day, or even another hour, they would have prevailed at a much higher cost.

Last week former President Trump survived an assassination attempt.  It seems to have been a close thing - an unsteady hand, unexpected gust of wind, or his own sudden movement saved his life.  Nonetheless, one innocent person was killed and two more were injured.  The shooter was also killed.

Political violence is bad.  We should all oppose it.  Saying this is a false-flag operation, or a plot by his political opponents, or bemoaning that we were this close to being rid of this unique threat to our Republic only fuels the fire.  Political violence is bad and a society that rejects it is better off.  Not only morally, but in material safety.  A Democracy of the Survivors presents very perverse incentives.  Further, as we have seen, shooters and weapons aren't perfect.  If we have more assassination attempts we'll also have more innocent deaths.

President Trump is a unique threat to our Republic, and we'd be better off if he weren't running.  That doesn't justify killing him.  The means and the ends must each be justified.  Murder isn't justifiable.

What stuck with me reading this chapter was the image of this huge melee, all so Frodo can have an opportunity to destroy the Ring.  That's what matters.  The battle is just a tactic.

Killing a political opponent is also a tactic towards political outcomes, but it will never get us what we want.  Whether you hit or miss you have now legitimized your opponent to break the rules to reach whatever goal of theirs was enraging you.  And if you do kill them there's always going to be someone to take their place.  What then?  Do we kill our way through our political opponents until the rest surrender?  These people have principles just like we do - would we be so easily cowed?  Would we not organize and strike back?

Stated like this I think it's clear it is delusional thinking to believe assassinations will lead to the political outcome we want.  Assuming Trump had died I think we can all agree that wouldn't have been the end of it. MAGA would strike back. I'm reminded of this quote, from Fellowship of the Ring.

[Sam said to Galadriel] 'I wish you'd take his Ring.  You'd put things
to rights... You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work.'

'I would,' she said. 'That is how it would begin.
But it would not stop with that, alas!'

It is easy to begin political violence - maybe even righteously!  But reprisals would come for those who took their lives; or at least those who were blamed; or at least those who could be acted against.  And then counter-counter-reprisals, etc.  How would it stop?  Who would be the person to see someone on their side killed and say "That's enough, it stops now - no more reprisals."  Tolerance is a big ask!

It's worth recalling tolerance did not come from high-minded thinkers who then persuaded society to live and let live.  Tolerance, in the Western tradition, came out of centuries of religious wars in Europe which pitted Catholics against Protestants.  Each side thought God wanted the other side wiped out, but that was proving impossible to do.  Tolerance arose because these 'forever wars' of the day were making life unbearable for everyone.  No particular person said "That's enough, it stops now."  Society did.

A sustained presence of violence, of any kind, undermines society's ability to function.  And society would recognize, above the incentives of individuals and political tribes, that it has to stop.  And sometimes it stops with democracy (Post-bellum America) and sometimes it stops with fascism (NAZIs, Soviets, Taliban).  Once you enter the abyss of societal dysfunction it's hard to predict the outcome.

This answers another issue I've been wrestling with - the battle does not end because Frodo destroys the Ring.  It ends because (or perhaps merely after) Frodo betrays the Quest and is attacked by Gollum who takes the Ring but then falls into the Crack of Doom.  The world is saved, of all things, by Gollum's greed!  A Eucatastrophe: An event we cannot plan for and should not hope for.  Indeed, who could have predicted the religious wars of the 1600s would have resulted in greater religious tolerance?

It's easier to predict the outcome of an election you lose: More elections.  Election cycles necessarily are followed by future election cycles - and will at some point produce results your opponents will not like.  But you don't want them empowered to kill whoever you voted for.  Thus, you must lay aside that power.  Better yet everyone must agree that option is unavailable and, if ever used, swiftly punished.

Ethics means doing the harder thing.  For politics, that means accepting defeat as a possibility, making coalitions with those you don't totally agree with, and refusing to despair and catastrophize (which is what gives us permission to break the rules of civil society).  Committing, or even encouraging, political violence is to say "I will recognize the government's authority only when I like the outcome."  And if one person has that position, it motivates others to take it.  The only solution is for nobody to take that position, and for those that do to be ostracized and punished - before they act.

'I wish you'd take his Ring.  You'd put things to rights...
You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work.'
'I would,' [Galadriel] said. 'That is how it would begin.

But it would not stop with that, alas!'

Let's say Trump somehow cancels elections in 2028, or runs a third term and wins.  He'll be 82.  Maybe he lives to be 100, and remains lucid throughout.  So worst case scenario he's in charge until 2046.  That's bad, but I don't believe we'd completely end as a republic.  The NAZIs ruled Germany for 12 terrible years, and then Germany was split for almost 45 years, but Germany reunited and has returned to being a democratic country.  Italy was ruled by Mussolini for 21 years!  Democracies, once they fall to fascism, are not stuck down there.

Picture this:  America has the same president for more than 10 years in a row, leading until he dies in office.  He imprisons a hundred thousand Americans based on their race, denies immigrants wishing to enter the country and tries to pack the Supreme Court when they rule against him.

The administration you're picturing has already happened - FDR was elected for four terms and did all of those things.  Yet we survived as a republic.

I need more evidence that this time will be different, and cannot even comprehend the evidence I would need to support political violence against Trump.  Because it would not stop with that, alas!

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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