Reflection in a Busy World

This week's chapter is called "The Shadow of the Past."  Gandalf returns after a years-long disappearance and reveals to Frodo the true identity of Bilbo's "magic ring."  He tells him why Sauron made it, how he lost it, and how it passed from Sauron to Isildur to Deagol to Smeagol/Gollum to Bilbo.  In nearly all cases, the Ring betrayed its bearer.  The Ring, of course, has it's own agenda and will.  When Isildur was attacked and killed by orcs the Ring slipped from his finger and fell into a nearby river.  There it remained for centuries, until Smeagol and Deagol (cousins) were fishing.  Deagol found the Ring, but Smeagol saw it, too, and wanted it.  He killed Deagol for it.  Yet more centuries later, the Ring then abandoned Smeagol and Bilbo found it on the ground.  Bilbo eventually escaped Smeagol's cave by the Ring's treachery (though perhaps also by Bilbo's own questionable character).

Only Bilbo, though with considerable help from Gandalf, willingly gave up The One Ring.  This leads Gandalf to conclude that hobbits have a special sort of strength that will be of use against the Ring.  Frodo must bear the Ring.

Meanwhile, outside Bag End, the hobbits continue their merry lives.  However, there are unusual happenings.  Elves have been seen heading west and more dwarves than usual are on the road, bearing unsettling news.  The conversation at the Green Dragon, the Shire's neighborhood watering hole, often revolve around these events.  What do they mean?  And does it matter to the hobbits?  Many say no and that they should continue to ignore other folk, as they have done for generations.

Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's gardener and son of The Gaffer (Who was Bilbo's gardener), is one of the hobbits who think they should pay attention to these events in the outside world.  He argues with another hobbit named Ted Sandyman while a crowd watches.  After Ted says something the text tells us that

There was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed

to think that Ted had scored a point... [Ted] drained his mug and went out noisily.

Sam sat silent and said no more.  He had a good deal to think about.

Arguing well can be difficult.  Online arguing can be.......... a travesty.  In order to have an effective argument online there have to be diligent moderators deleting trolling comments and possibly blocking people from participating when they show themselves to be unwilling to make productive contributions.  I've tried to facilitate a few conversations online - it isn't easy.  It is easy for people to get riled up and go from making productive and coherent comments to rambling and insulting comments.  And that's when people are trying to be productive.

Then there are inherent limitations of being online.  People can write as much or as little as you want, so there's no telling if a lack of response is because they have stopped participating, are taking their time in creating a smart, worthwhile post, or are typing a long rambling tirade.  By the time it is posted, it is too late.  In person you could have said "Stop right there, let me answer what you've said so far."  Online it can become unwieldy even if everyone is arguing in good faith.  And that usually isn't the case.

Another obvious limit is in person one can read facial cues and tone of voice.  Online, there are two tones, this one AND THIS ONE.  But caps lock lacks nuance.  What is the difference between these two sentences:

I AM STARTING A NEW JOB

and

I LOST MY WALLET

Obviously, one is excited and the other is stressed.  But if the content of the sentence isn't so clear, it can be hard to know.  Let's take another example:

TRUMP 2020 HE IS GOING TO WIN!

It is impossible to tell if the speaker is pro- or anti-Trump.  In person, I wager, it would be obvious.

But the hardest part of online arguing - and arguing in general - is the audience.  An audience makes the argument a spectator sport.  In person it is possible to limit the audience.  Online, it is not.  Even when talking in a one on one chat, there is little stopping one party from making the conversation public.  And what happens then?  Likes, shares, retweets, comments OH the comments.  Like with the crowd in the Green Dragon inn, many people will be "Laughing and clapping: the audience seeming to think that someone on their side has scored a point."

Too often, the point we applaud is a zinger that get's the opponent off balance rather than a statement that cuts into the other side's argument and weakens it.  So not only are we wastefully applauding, we aren't even applauding the content of the argument.  Why do we do this?

I think the answer is obvious: it feels good to make fools of your opponents.  If the other side are fools, your side isn't.  Gary Johnson looked like an idiot when he said "What is a leppo?"  Everyone took pleasure in it.  Hell, even Johnson played along.  However,  if you watch the rest of the original interview, when he was told Aleppo is in Syria he was able to quickly give a relevant answer.  No one took the error for what it was - superficial and inconsequential.  They, pardon, I should admit my participation We were too busy having fun.  But it didn't really move the situation forward.  It didn't impact Johnson's Presidential chances, and it didn't help the people suffering in Aleppo.

Getting back to our text.  Soon after scoring his point, Ted "noisily" leaves the Green Dragon.  His part was done but he didn't let it end.  For him, the argument was about the attention he received.  Whether the noise was others congratulating him on his way out or him making a scene to ensure his absence did not go unnoticed, Ted's purpose is to gain attention and increase his reputation.  Sam, however, sits quietly and "had a good deal to think about"

In the heat of an argument, whether an audience is present or not, pride inevitably ends up in the mix.  It is hard for it not to.  You are arguing a point of view, but it is YOUR point of view, and you've probably held it for some time.  You probably hang out with people who have the same views as you (and possibly purge your friendships occasionally to ensure this homogeneity).  It's more than a point of view - it is a part of who you are.  So, to be convinced otherwise, you need to sacrifice part of yourself.

Besides that, it just sucks to admit you were wrong.  In the midst of arguing, when we have just stated why we think X, it is very difficult to recognize, and then act on, that X is actually wrong.  Especially if any personal insults have been hurled.  Especially if we have drawn an audience.  Especially if we picked the fight in the first place.  How foolish will we look if we admit we are wrong?  Are we sure we're wrong?  Maybe we're just tired.  How bad will it look if we admit we are wrong, but later reverse our position again?

We need to find a way to remove pride from the situation.

Ted does not do this.  As he leaves, he is makes sure people see him.  He uses the argument to raise his own stature.   But Sam is quiet, and he stays, and he thinks.  I think this is the key to changing minds.

If you want to persuade someone, give them some space afterwards.  The most common error I see in online debates is haranguing someone over and over and over again without giving them time to respond.  This happens in person, too, but I think it's more obviously problematic.  But online everyone wants to get their say (and easily can) so you get consecutive posts making similar points - adding nothing to the conversation but ensuring those people get seen.  For those people this argument is an opportunity to be noticed and nothing more.  It is about them and not the topic.  (Of course I am not referring to personal narratives people may tell that are relevant to the topic - while those may also make similar points they also serve an important purpose to show that the situation in question is common across experiences).

Similarly, we should strive to be like Sam even when we are right.  When we are right, we should not encourage applause.  When we see a crowd gather, we should not shift our tactic towards cheap shots.  When the argument is done, we should not leave "noisily."  We should be quiet and think.  We should reflect.  Reflection is an important part of any experience - it is crucial in understanding the experience and learning from it.  There is always something to learn.

Perhaps we will realize a better way to make our argument.  Or perhaps we'll find a new flaw in the opposing argument.  Or maybe we'll finally figure out how to respond to a new argument brought against us that we didn't know how to respond to in the moment.  Or maybe we'll realize they brought up some good arguments and that we need to adjust our views.  Or maybe we'll realize we were, actually, wrong.  All of these are important things to realize.  But few realizations happen in the heat of an argument.

Arguing has an important role in society.  If you argue, then you care.  This also holds true in the work place and in relationships.  Now, obviously, name calling and grandstanding and violence are beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior.  But verbally arguing can be good.  Airing grievances is a release valve against resentment and silence.  Sometimes the other party doesn't even know how we felt until we say it.  Sometimes they know how we feel but don't understand why.  Sometimes they know how we feel and understand why but have different priorities than us.  There are lots of legitimate reasons to argue.  There's a reason the comments section is open on this blog.  I'm happy to argue ideas with people.

But arguing is a form of communication, not a form of thought.  A society (or workplace, relationship, etc) needs both.  You, and whoever else is participating, need space afterwards.  Get it for yourself.  Give it to others.  Without it, arguing becomes entertainment and validation - a way to "win" and feel smart (at the expense of someone else losing and feeling dumb).  It ceases to be an opportunity to grow and learn and improve.  Only when the talking stops can reflection begin.  And while we cannot be sure others will use the space we give them wisely, we can take comfort in the fact that that means we will be better prepared than them for the next argument.

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

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Seeing Everyone

How often have you felt someone in your life sees only a part of you?  They see you only as someone who can help them, or they see you only as a horror movie aficionado, or they see you only as an authority figure; or only as a subordinate.  You are only a parent or a child or a student or a barista or an athlete or a musician or a master of celebrity impressions.  It feels a little disappointing.  Here you are - a full and complex (and ever-changing) human being and they try to squeeze you into a single category.  Beyond disappointing, it can be enraging.  It can be oppressive.

And then you show your breadth.  An opportunity comes to show your fuller potential - and they are surprised.  They laugh.  They are shocked.  They say something like, "Hey I thought you were _________, but actually you're more!"  And you want to shout back that of course you are!  I mean, if they're a full person, why can't you be, too?!

Or maybe the opportunity doesn't come.  Maybe they live their whole lives thinking you are X, but in fact you are XYZ and ABC and so much more.  Their loss - but also you want them to know.  No one likes to be underappreciated.

This week's chapter - the first chapter of our text - is a transitional text.  It takes those who may know our Creative Wizard only from The Hobbit and attempts to prepare them for the tale to come.  From an adventure story with dragons and riddles and gold to a much more fraught journey of danger and darkness.  For The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins is an appropriate protagonist.  Joyful, devious, cautious and clever, he is a hero befitting a children's story.  But now things will get more serious.  Bilbo exits the narrative, and Frodo becomes the central character.

This is done rather bluntly in the text.  Much of the chapter occurs during Bilbo's birthday party (which is also Frodo's, though he doesn't seem to care as much) - a huge endeavor of food and invitations and fireworks.  Towards the end, Bilbo gives a speech to the guests.  Suddenly, he vanishes.  The text says:

"Then there was a dead silence and, suddenly, after several deep

breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb,

Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brodhouse, Goodbody,

Hornblower and Proudfoot began to talk at once."

Bilbo then goes home and is confronted by Gandalf, who reprimands him for using the Ring for such a silly trick.  Bilbo then leaves the Shire, as has been his plan, leaving all his possessions to Frodo.  When Frodo goes home to look for Bilbo he finds Gandalf there instead, who confirms Bilbo has left the Shire.  Gandalf then gives Frodo a warns Frodo of the Ring that he should, "keep it safe, keep it secret!"  The true nature of the ring has not yet been discovered (though we know it is The One Ring).  In the text it's all very mysterious.  Frodo, certainly, does not know the danger of the story he is about to begin.  We rarely do.

Look again at the text singled out above.  It caught my eye because it is a rather clumsy long list of names.  No fewer than 10 families of hobbits are named.  This happens quite a few times in this chapter.  The Creative Wizard could have said "many hobbits," but instead takes the time to name families.  Even though they don't have much function in the narrative, their individuality is highlighted.

Think back to what I said earlier about being seen only as a part of your whole self.  Now flip that.  Who do we know as only a part of their whole self - and are glad for that?  Baristas, gas station attendants, colleagues, online friends, supervisors, etc.  These are full people with entire lives - of which we see only a small piece.  We know how we feel when we are not fully appreciated.  So we must admit we know how others feel when we do it to them.

But what can be done?  We are busy.  They are only a waitress at a restaurant we frequent.  Or, more accurately, they are only a waitress to us.  We intellectually realize they are a full person even as we only allow them to fulfill a certain role in our life (how often have you invited one of these people deeper int your life?).  They remain, to us, only X.

And that's reasonable, I think.  While there are problems with Dunbar's number, certainly there must be some upper limit of comprehensive relationships we can have with others.  We cannot thoroughly know everybody.

But that shouldn't stop us from trying to know people at least a little better.  Promote a familiar stranger to an acquaintance, and an acquaintance to a casual friend.  Nod hello to the people you regularly see on your commute.  Greet the custodians who work in your building.  Get to know the people who frequent the same online spaces that you do.  We tend to be surrounded by people much of the day but we still manage to feel frighteningly alone.  The way that gets solved is through action.  A change in habits and attitudes.  And if we see others, they cannot help but to see us.

A simple way to begin is to learn the names of the service people you interact with regularly.  You already are familiar with them, and they probably wear a name tag already.  When you begin or end your interaction with them, say their name.  Dale Carnegie says, "That a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language."  Elevate them a little - show them you see them as individuals.  They may even reciprocate.  And while I don't think anyone will find their new best friend this way, you just might make the spaces you inhabit more welcoming and friendly, both for others and for yourself.  And that, alone, is a worthy goal.


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

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

Bonus: L'shana tovah, Gollum!

Today is a holiday for Jews everywhere - Today we celebrate Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, and welcome in 5779.  Jewish tradition says Jews should both look forward to the new year and also reflecting on the past year, specifically on the ways we could have been better but were not.

To that end, there is a tradition called tashlich, which literally means 'cast off', that Jews do on Rosh Hashana.  Jews go to a natural source of water, each with a bit of bread in their hands.  They then throw the bread into the water.  The bread symbolizes the things they wish to cast off from last year.  Sins but also errors, unintended consequences, emotional loss of control, sadness, unnecessary arguments with friends, petty squabbles, really anything at all you don't want next year.  It's sort of like a New Year's resolution, but with the explicit acknowledgment of "I used to do it poorly."

Whenever I run Rosh Hashana services for teenagers, I use a specific example from Lord of the Rings to show what it is like for someone to acknowledge the bad within them and to attempt to cast it off.

I encourage the teens to think of something specific they did that they do not want to do again.  Then, bread in hand, face the water and scream "Leave now and never come back!" and then throw their bread into the water as hard as they can.  It gives the ceremony a visceral feel to it, and of course shouting is a perfect intersection of "things teens sometimes want to do" and "things you usually cannot do during religious services," so it's inherently interesting.

Happy new year to all!

Play it again, Samwise!

5 years ago, I decided to embark on a great endeavor to see what would happen if I analyzed a text the way Jews analyze the Torah.  I chose Tolkien's epic The Lord of the Rings.  I read a chapter a week (sometimes two), found a meaning in the text and wrote a short essay about it.  I was thrilled with the result, which is the website you have before you.

Now, this year I will do it again.  Since our first go around,  I've moved from California back to Massachusetts, changed jobs and apartments seemingly dozens of times, and received two Master's degrees, one in Jewish Education and one in Jewish Studies.  But I still have this passion for text analysis and bringing meaning to the 'mundane'.  So here we are.

OK, enough introduction.  The cycle begins September 22nd, which is Frodo and Bilbo's birthday.



(However - keep an eye out for a bonus preview post linking a key scene in the LOTR movies to Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, which is right around the corner...)