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.'

Faramir, for reasons we're never given, is considerably wiser than Boromir.  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?  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.  Still, things end better for him 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 marginalize him.  Here we can see those best equipped for a task may not be willing to say so, and we should be willing to lift those people up 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.  And that 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 those siren calls.  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 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.

On opposites?

Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format, which is simply easier for me to do.  It's hard writing a conversation between two disembodied voices - who knew!

Anyway, this week we begin book four, which reconnects us with Sam and Frodo.  Having fled from the rest of the company, they must push on towards Mordor.  But they also know they are being tracked by Gollum, who wants the Ring back.

The chapter is called "The Taming of Smeagol," and it is not long before he indeed finds them.  They see him, too, climbing down a cliff towards them.

Sam restrained himself, though his fingers
were twitching. His eyes, filled with anger and disgust,
were fixed on the wretched creature...

Gollum falls from the rocks he is climbing and Sam takes the opportunity to pounce on him.  Even caught unawares like this Gollum is a fierce foe.  Frodo has to intervene, Sting unsheathed and at Gollum's neck.  They have captured him!

But he soon tries to escape.  They stop him, and determine they must tie him up.  Sam goes to retrieve his Elvish rope.

‘And where were you off to in the cold hard lands,
Mr. Gollum?’ [Sam] growled. ‘We wonders, aye, we wonders. To find some of
your orc-friends, I warrant. You nasty treacherous creature. It’s round your
neck this rope ought to go, and a tight noose too.’
Gollum lay quiet and tried no further tricks.
He did not answer Sam, but gave him a swift venomous look.

Sam and Gollum are very different characters.  Sam is selfless and dedicated to Frodo.  Gollum is deceitful and selfish, unless loyalty to the Ring counts.  I don't think it should, because it's probably not a willing loyalty.

But the hatred they are capable of is similar, as is the purpose behind their stares.  Sam stares at Gollum when he is out of reach, and Gollum stares at Sam when he cannot hurt him.  But they both want to harm the other, and they are both worried one will kill the other.  Sam has already proven the point.  It is he who lunges first at a defenseless Gollum, as he fell from the rocks.  Sam is not looking for an honorable duel.

Gollum, we know, will spend the rest of this book biding his time, waiting for the hobbits to be vulnerable enough for him to attack.  He will not hesitate when that time comes, nor fret over his unfair advantage.

But stares from afar can be interpreted both as "I am making a plan to strike when able" and "I am powerless to do anything else."  When you can strike, you don't glare at your enemy as if you can shoot lasers from your eyes.  You don't imagine all the wonderful ways you'll overcome them, you just do it even if it's a bit messy, imprecise, or uncertain.  Similarly, when someone suggests grand plans to do something, it might be that they are really planning on completing those plans.  But the plans might also be expressing a sense of powerlessness.  Unable to know where to begin, they just imagine the situation they want.

I have a friend who relatively recently moved to Alaska as preparation for climate change.  I'm not really sure this will help him as he imagines.  I don't think its counter-productive, either.  But it's an awfully grand gesture which will feel good.  I don't mean that dismissively - it is fine to pursue things that feel good.  If he is as powerless in the face of climate change as I think he is (as an individual), then this is at least something to combat that feeling.  "I did what I could," even what he did wasn't helpful.

When we see ourselves imagining grand changes we're not actually empowered to do, we should catch ourselves and ask why.  It can be fun, or cathartic, but it's not empowering.  It's fine to do things fun and cathartic, but we shouldn't fool ourselves about the direct usefulness.

When we hear others, or ourselves, presenting One Weird Tricks we should stop listening.  Frustration is a powerful emotion, but thinking the world will be solved if just everyone listened doesn't take into account the realities of this world.  One solution won't work for everyone, and trying to push such a thing will just increase your frustration, etc etc.  Or it does work and now you're a tyrant, and that's Bad.  Obviously, none of us have the ability to become tyrant of the world, but it is possible to do so within our family, friends, workplace, etc.  We should watch ourselves within the realms we can actually amass power.

Sam and Gollum both get the opportunity to act on their fantasies.  Both fail miserably.  What works, for Frodo and for Aragorn and company (And, at least almost, for Gollum), is to take problems one step at a time, keeping an ultimate goal in mind.  Frodo believes Gollum may be a necessary ally for some of their journey.  If Sam kills him and then they starve in Emyn Muil, what then?  For Gollum, killing Sam would just alienate Frodo from him further, thus making it harder for him to get the Ring from him.

"We're not so different, you and I," Sam and Gollum might say to each other.  But in this way the Creative Wizard shows such glares are never productive, whether pursued in service of a friend or the self.  Powerlessness is not a strength, and imagining success is not a strategy.

As an aside, I've always found it peculiar Gollum dies at Mt Doom by losing his footing and just... falling.  He isn't described as a character prone to those kinds of accidents.  And yet the first time he enters our narrative as a real character, that's exactly what happens.  Sam doesn't heckle him.  Gollum doesn't see the hobbits and is startled.  He just loses his footing.  I hadn't ever noticed this before.

In this case he survives, but next time won't be so lucky.  I don't know what lesson to draw from this but intend to pay more attention to descriptions of Gollum's climbing ability.  Maybe it isn't as strong as I think it is...

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 wrote it all on Saturday.  I hope in the future to use it more in this format, but we shall see.