Doing bad for the greater good

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

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

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

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

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

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

and Legolas is dangerous.  You are beset with dangers,

Gimli son of Gloin, for you are dangerous yourself!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A squandered opportunity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are we living legends?

This week's chapter is called "The Riders of Rohan," and the text follows the Three Hunters, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli as they pursue the orcs which captured Merry and Pippin.  In the course of their chase, they enter the land of Rohan.

Rohan has been mentioned several times throughout the text already - sometimes we hear that Rohan pays tribute to Mordor, sometimes that they are strong and valiant Men.  No Rohirrim were present at the Council of Elrond (It is important to remember that Boromir of Gondor wasn't technically invited - he just happened to arrive in Rivendell a few weeks before the Council assembled on an errand concerning The Ring) But that gets into a discussion about coincidences in Middle Earth, which is a topic for another day)).  Can they be trusted?  Who are the riders?  Will they be traitors like Saruman, or aloof like the Elves?  Will they be ignorant of the coming onslaught, as Shirefolk, or wholly unconcerned, as Tom Bombadil?

The Hunters meet a large group of Rohirrim on the plains, and they are described like this:

Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed;

their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind,

their manes were braided on their proud necks.  The men that rode them match them well:

tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms,

and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen.

In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs,

long swords were at their belts, their burnished skirts of mail hung down upon their knees.

They certainly sounds like "good guys." We know the Creative Wizard has a bias - he is on the side of the Free Peoples and the Quest.  Therefore, it is rare for him to describe servants of the Enemy in such majesty.  Earlier in the chapter, when describing Aragorn's methods of tracking the orcs, he [the Creative Wizard] refers to their "Hated Feet."  There is little doubt, then, that the Rohirrim are to be feared.

Aragorn tells Eomer (the leader of the riders) who he is and what their purpose is (Though he omits The Ring) and implores them for help.  Eomer tells him they attacked a party of orcs the previous night and killed them all.  Aragorn asks if they found any prisoners, and Gimli clarifies that they are halflings.  An anonymous rider laughs, "Halflings!  But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales.  Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?"  Aragorn responds, "A man may do both.  For not we but those who come after will make legends of our time."  What does he mean by this?

Legends are not present events.  They can never be present events.  When Isildur cut The Ring from Sauron's hand, when Gollum took The Ring into the caves, when Bilbo was asked to go on a big adventure, these were not legends - they were current events.  They became legends because those in later times (the now-current times) made legends out of them.

Benjamin Franklin once said, "In order to not be forgotten when you die: Write something worth reading, or do something worth writing."  I think he's talking about the same things.  We might live in extraordinary times, if only we were to make them extraordinary.  Future generations will decide what we did, if anything, that is worth remembering.

Many decry that the likes of Twilight and Justin Bieber and 50 Shades of Grey will be what we are remembered for - but why would that be?  History is the art of condensing information.  Asking people to summarize a decade should be impossible, but it isn't, because really what that means is tell us the best and the worst events and trends of that time.  In other words, find the legends (or terrors) out of those 10 years.  Out of 3650+ days, find me the 30 or so that are important.  Is it any wonder that living through a decade, seeing EVERYTHING (the good and bad), causes a kind of blindness?

Oldies radio stations play the best 50, 100, 200 songs from a handful of decades.  Pop radio stations play the newest thing, because their goal is to just giving expose to new artists and songs.  Without that exposure, we won't know they exist.  And who can predict which songs will be popular and which won't be?  How will we find "Royals" without just shuffling through hundreds of songs a year.  Lorde isn't a great artist in an age of crap any more than the Beatles were.  There's only one way to find the diamonds in the rough.

The legacy of the past can seem daunting because we've already picked out the best bits and framed them.  If the past is a museum, modern culture is a newly broken excavation site.  EVERYTHING IS THERE.  Obviously the past will look superior - we've cut it down to the bare essentials.

If you really think we're living in a culturally bankrupt time, add something to it - make something that will be worth remembering.  History is not kind to complainers, unless they do something to contribute.  Martin Luther isn't just remembered because of his 95 Theses, but because of the Protestant movement he then spearheaded.  If you're disappointed with our impending cultural legacy, work to improve it.  Do something worth writing, or write something worth reading.  Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?  We can do both.  We must do both.

Taking Care of Business

'Boromir is dead.' said Aragorn.  'I am unscathed,

for I was not here with him.  He fell defending the

hobbits while I was away upon the hill.'

'The Hobbits!' cried Gimli, 'Where are they then?

Where is Frodo?'

'I do not know,' answered Aragorn wearily.  Before he

died Boromir told me that the Orcs had bound

them; he did not think that they were dead.  I sent

him to follow Merry and Pippin; but I did not ask

him if Frodo or Sam were with him: not until it was too late.

All that I have done today has gone amiss.

What is to be done now?'

'First we must tend the fallen,' said Legolas.

We cannot leave him lying like

carrion among these foul Orcs.'

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This week's chapter is called "The departure of Boromir."  While we've been led to expect that Boromir is simply going to head west and return to Minas Tirith.  After all, in the previous chapter the Fellowship broke apart (with Frodo and Sam leaving everyone else).  So Boromir has nothing holding him back from going home.  However, as shown above, he actually departs much more literally (Or less literally - I don't know).

Time is pressing - the Hobbits have been captured, and the Ring might be on the way to the Enemy (we know Frodo and Sam have escaped capture, but Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas do not).  And yet Legolas insists that Boromir's body be tended.  Boromir is dead and will be dead for a long time - they could come back.  They have a far more important mission in which time is of the essence (and upon which the whole world depends).

But still, Legolas insists, and Gimli and Aragorn agree (Though Gimli says, "But we must be swift, he would not wish us to linger.").  Why?  Setting aside the spiritual/religious mandate to tend the dead, what purpose is there in this?  Boromir won't know the difference.  Why should the dead take precedence over the living?

Personally, I think they were just hoping to tie up their loose ends.  If they left, even if they knew they would never return, it would be in the back of their mind.  They left a fallen companion without caring for him.  At best this is merely a distraction: They didn't live up to their own expectations of themselves.  At worst it becomes something more:  In trying to save the world from evil, they gave up on some of their principles.  If you need to sacrifice your principles to achieve something, was it really worth achieving?  It's that old question:  If murdering a newborn was the price for peace on Earth, who would do it?  And what would we think of that person?

There is an added bonus.  In tending Boromir's body and collecting the weapons nearby ("Let us lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his vanquished foes.  We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to the Anduin.") they come across clues of the Hobbits.  They find two swords that were given to the hobbits by Galadriel in Lothlorien.  They also discover, upon closer examination, that their foes were not of Mordor, but rather of Isengard, and so were sent by Saruman.  This is crucial information, as Isengard is west, while Mordor is to the east.  If they hadn't taken the time to tend to Boromir's body, they would have gone the wrong way!

Passion is a powerful and excellent tool, but it can lead us astray if it is not tempered with a pause now and then.  Unbridled passion, without direction or intention, can be very dangerous, or at least make one look crazy.  When they find Boromir's body and hear that the Hobbits have been taken, Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas all want to give chase immediately - they want revenge.  But, as we know, bortaS bIr jablu'DI', reH QaQqu' nay'.  While I've always imagined this proverb means revenge feels better when served cold, I now think it might mean it is simply more effective to dish it out after you've had a chance to calm down.  Seeking revenge when you're still angry can lead to sloppy mistakes.  You lose your principles.  You focus on the goal "MUST GET VENGEANCE!" rather than the method "Step 1, step 2, step 3... GET VENGEANCE!"  You're almost doomed to failure.

And so this passage teaches us two lessons: we should take the time, before starting a new task, to ensure as much of our old tasks are wrapped up.  Second, before we act on our passions, we must step back and evaluate our evidence and develop a method.  Otherwise, we will go west when we should be going east.  Passion is an excellent engine, but it needs a reflective and thoughtful driver to go anywhere productive...

One book down, two to go: Reflection

So here we are, one third of the way through this.  I wanted to share some reflections I've had so far.

First:  I feel I've proven my initial goal, that this is even possible.  There's enough content in Lord of the Rings to make this worth it.  Behind the scenes, I've had at least two ideas for each chapter - sometimes more.  And the posts are always trimmed down versions of my original.  In short, there's a lot to talk about.  I could certainly continue doing this for years.

One thing I've learned, I understand the point of view of those who pray every day.  I know from talking to them that they don't always feel what they wanted to feel (God, peace, connection, etc), but praying makes them open to that feeling if it is available to them.  If they pray 3 times a day and get the feeling once every 5 times, that's once every two days, and some days twice!  Either way, they open themselves to the experience.

Not every week have I wanted to write.  Sometimes I'm busy, sometimes the text doesn't lend itself to deeper readings, sometimes I just don't feel like it.  But forcing myself to do it every week has made me open to the possibilities I'll really be able to get something.  And then there are the weeks I didn't want to, but as I wrote I really got into it.  This most recent one is a good example.  Originally I was just going to decry "True colors."  But then my thoughts turned to the justice system and the 'criminal record' and I saw a connection and ran with it.  That wouldn't have happened if I didn't just plow forward...

That's it - just some thoughts as the first book ends.  The Two Towers posts begin tomorrow!