On despair

This week we read "The Siege of Gondor," a chapter full of death and despair.  Faramir returns to the city but then is quickly sent back out by Denethor to disrupt the advance of the armies of Mordor, and though he valiantly attempts to do so, he ultimately is forced to retreat, and is even struck by a 'deadly dart,' which I think is supposed to recall Frodo's wound on Weathertop.  The effect is similar - Faramir collapses and only makes it back into the city protected by the others.  Frodo survived the wound with Elfish medicine, but the men of Gondor have no access to that.  Faramir's prognosis looks grim.

When the gate is surrounded and the siege is complete (does Gondor really have only one gate, to be besieged so easily?! Even Helm's Deep has secret passages which are alluded to) those inside begin to despair of their situation.  A guard, Ingold, says:

‘There is no news of the Rohirrim.  Rohan will not come now. Or if they come, it will not
avail us. The new host that we had tidings of has come first, from over the River by way of Andros
 it is said. They are strong: battalions of Orcs of the Eye, and countless companies of Men of a new
sort that we have not met before. Not tall, but broad and grim, bearded like dwarves, wielding great
axes. Out of some savage land in the wide East they come, we deem. They hold the northward road;
and many have passed on into Anorien. The Rohirrim cannot come.’

In a single paragraph Ingold's point has evolved three times.  First, it goes from no news of Rohan to certainly they will not come.  Then, they will not be able to help if they do.  Then, it is impossible for them to come.

He's not making a particularly long speech, where we might understand this kind of change - we've all experienced our minds changing as we describe a situation out loud.  But somehow his mind changes not once, but three times!  And always in the same direction: towards depair.

This is an example of catastrophizing.  Ingold pushes himself toward more and more desperate conclusions.  It is not enough for him to say he hasn't heard news of Rohan - he instead concludes it is impossible for them to come.  His mind pushes him towards that end.

We've all had this experience, or knows someone whose had it.  A funny look from a boss means they think they'll be fired.  A lack of sex in a relationship means a break-up is coming.  A couple of coughs are a suggestion of Covid.

It may seem as if preparing for the worst is just that - being prepared.  But over the course of a lifetime, as a regular response to regular things, it's a stressful way to live.  That stress sucks energy out of you which could be used for other things.  If you're not actually being fired, energy spent preparing to be could have gone to other things.

Later in our chapter the scope widens:  We're given an overview of two competing views within the city.  Both are grim, but the first at least tries to be optimistic.

‘Nay,’ they said, ‘not if the Nameless One himself should come, not even he could enter here while we yet live.’ But some answered: ‘While we yet live? How long? He has a weapon that has brought low many strong places since the world began. Hunger. The roads are cut. Rohan will not come.’

Here we see the second group has already moved past "no news" and is already saying Rohan will not come.  Next, they will say Rohan will not avail them.  Eventually, they'll say Rohan cannot come.

The optimistic group could try to do the same, but in truth what is there for them to be optimistic about?  "The city will not fall while we defend it, and we will defend it forever.  We'll find other food to eat and Rohan will open the roads soon enough"?  That's obviously nonsense and won't cheer anybody except a child.  There is worth in cheering children in hopeless situations, of course.  But adults?  We're supposed to be the problem-solvers, and even optimists should understand the reality of the challenge.

The situation is desperate, so we can't really blame people for turning to despair.  Further, the pessimistic group, if they fall in battle, can at least comfort themselves that they did not die a fool.  They knew this was coming.  I don't think that's something we should overlook.

This is called group polarization and is like catastrophizing but for a whole group.  But while personal catastophizing only adds stress to your life, here people can make connections with each other through their despair, giving further incentive to despair.  Given that despair is hopelessness, and hope is such an important part of an ethical life, we must resist it.  It would be different if such bad news stirred us to action - but it rarely does.

In addition to the despair in this chapter, I had also mentioned there is death:

And when Denethor descended again he went to Faramir
and sat beside him without speaking, but the face of the Lord
was grey, more deathlike than his son’s.

Faramir has been wounded by an evil weapon, but it is Denethor whose life appears to be failing.  In fact, the text pretty clearly tells us worry over Faramir's life is the product of rumor:

During all this black day Faramir lay upon his bed in the chamber of the
White Tower, wandering in a desperate fever; dying someone said,
and soon ‘dying’ all men were saying upon the walls and in the streets.

So here Denethor is succumbing to a rumor started by 'someone' (I think it's interesting this person isn't named, given the Creative Wizard's penchant for giving names and histories to various minor characters).  And it goes from his son is dying to Denethor then seeming as if he is the one dying.  Death does not usually spread in this way.

Despair is popular these days - being optimistic is seen as naive.  We have a rematch election most people don't want, a climate crisis, and several real (and imagined) genocides.  But our text teaches us that despair leads only to greater despair.  These people are not stirred to action - they are simply brought down by how much of a bummer things are.  Or they are moved to action which, if it does not cause immediate change, will lead them to conclude change is impossible.  An ethical cost of a society with a reduced sense of delayed gratification.

There is a way to avoid pessimism and despair while also not pretending our problems are easily solved.  For one thing, I think there's room between pessimism and optimism - one doesn't have to choose one or the other.  There also is good news in the world - it's just not popular to celebrate it.

The forces causing us to join in despair are strong.  Through social media it is a way to connect with people.  Surely I'm not the only person who has seen someone share bad news, been able to find a credible source debunking that bad news, but still decided not to share it.  Because I am a coward?  Surely that's part of it.  It's hard to go against the grain.  But I think there's something uniquely bad when that means "Let people despair - trying to cheer them up will just get them mad at you."

Life being bad is also reason for revolution, which provides a better sense of meaning than economic success, material comfort, and incremental success through policies passed through the democratic process.  Unfortunately, it also means we're looking for meaning in falsehoods.  

As for our texts, we know the deaths of those in Gondor will not be in vain (well, except Denethor).  As is a pattern we've come to expect, there is a eucatastrophe coming.  The forces of Mordor break the gate, and the Witch King and Gandalf have a confrontation around the splintered doors.  Suddenly, 

And... there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns.
In dark Mindolluin’s sides they dimly echoed.
Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.

Ingold and the others were wrong.  Preparing to die for their city was not what had to happen.  As long as they defend it, it will not fall - and they will be around to defend it for a long time.

I'm not sure what our "Rohan had come at last" moment will be.  We're not under an actual siege, so it's harder to know when enough help has come that we can reasonably let go of our despair.  But I do want to point out that the despair is undermined long before the battle is won.  There is still much to fight and die for.

But now they can do it with hope.

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

ChatGPT contributed about 2% to this post's final version, because I couldn't remember the term "group polarization," and Google wasn't helpful.

On the cowardice of evil deeds

This week we read "The Muster of Rohan."  In this chapter, Theoden rides through his kingdom gathering what forces he can to ride to Minas Tirith's aid.  On his way he passes Edoras, where Eowyn has been organizing the return of the people.  Aragorn has recently ridden through and left her - breaking her heart.  Her despair is known to us, but none of the men around her.  Theoden greets him when he arrives,

'And you, Eowyn,’ said The'oden, ‘is all well with you?’ ´ ‘All is well,’ she answered;
yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied her, and he would have thought that she had
been weeping, if that could be believed of one so stern of face. ‘All is well.
It was a weary road for the people to take, torn suddenly from their homes. There
were hard words, for it is long since war has driven us from the green fields; but
there have been no evil deeds. All is now ordered, as you see. And your lodging
is prepared for you; for I have had full tidings of you
and knew the hour of your coming.’

Evil deeds and hard words seem to go hand-in-hand.  "Genocide" is a hard word, and of course is an evil deed.  Same with murder, hatred, war crime, violence, etc.  Most evil deeds, of course, are also hard words.  But this passage reminds us they can be separate.

Sometimes we must have hard woods in order to prevent evil deeds.  It is important to speak truthfully when our friends are wrong.  The word genocide, used well, can be used to prevent the deed.  Whatever violence someone thinks some words can be, expressing them in order to prevent physical violence must be preferrable.  But let's lower the stakes a bit.

As I write this I'm overhearing a conversation in the library between two people - the man is advising this woman on how to approach a stock broker who is recommending different investment opportunities.  He is suggesting she ask if the agent has any interest in the stocks.  She doesn't want to, and is worried about offending the agent.  He's asking why would the agent be offended if there's nothing wrong?  She is worried if she asks these questions she'll come across as untrusting.  He's worried if she doesn't she will be open to being taken advantage of.

I think he is right in this case.  It may be uncomfortable to ask, but if you're getting stock advice from someone who is paid by companies to sell their stock over other stock that's going to cause a lot worse than discomfort.  You at least deserve to know.  Hard words before taking the leap ensure you have more information, including that the person you asked seemed reluctant to answer or was forthright.  We must live in the world as it is, which means we are responsible for doing what we can to protect ourselves.

Uncomfortable conversations are, obviously, uncomfortable.  It is natural to want to protect ourselves from discomfort.  But we've all experienced "keeping it inside."  It doesn't feel good, it makes you madder, and nothing can get fixed that way.  If you don't use the outlet of hard words, you may eventually resort to the outlet of evil deeds.

And evil deeds can feel good.  We've all imagined doing the wrong thing as an outlet of our anger.  Less of us have committed them - I hope.  But doing evil deeds is, somehow, less uncomfortable than speaking hard words.  Punching a NAZI feels better than engaging with one verbally.  Cheating on your spouse is easier than telling them XYZ thing which has been weighing on you for a long time.  But it's obviously cowardly, too.  It's just avoidance.

Similarly it is cowardly to publicly call someone out rather than privately initiate a conversation to reach an understanding.

• It is cowardly to go to war without trying to find a resolution through other means.
• It is cowardly to exterminate another people rather than speak to them and search for connections and compromises.
• It is cowardly to quit a job without first talking to your boss about the problem.

But many of these can be flipped

• It is cowardly to accept peace at any cost, rather than wage a just war
• It is cowardly to seek connections and compromises with those who seek to exterminate you or your values
• It is cowardly to remain at a job forever because the reward of finding a better one comes with the risk of finding a worse one

Similarly: It is cowardly to avoid asking questions of a stock broker, and it is cowardly to hide conflict of interest from from your clients.

Obviously some things are simply better off avoided, and we don't need to solve or even confront every problem we run into.  But we shouldn't pretend it isn't cowardly, either.

Let's lower the stakes again to something I at least run into at least once a week:

Being hesitant to offend people is a good impulse, and we should always try to be aware of other peoples feelings.  But if the alternative is silence on an important issue, I think we're going too far.  And if we're worried about offending someone because we think it will offend them, we should consider we're actually projecting our own worries on them, and preventing an opportunity for a really excellent, meaningful coversation.

Offending someone in the course of normal conversation, is almost always worth the risk.  Obviously offending someone for the purpose of offending them is a different category of offense.  But whatever peace you keep between the two of you by remaining silent is offset by the disruption which stirs within you.  Maybe the disruption ends up being between you both; they may wonder why you didn't ask them about the elephant in the room.

Strong friendships are those where lines can be crossed, apologies can be offered, and lessons can be learned.  You spend so much time together and must learn how to co-exist that eventually you do develop a strong bond because of those earlier conflicts.  Whether its a friendship, a family, a club, a workplace or a neighborhood, this is true.

Of course, that conversation I overheard in the library was an example of hard words.  He could have assumed she was simple for not asking a basic question about conflict of interest.  She could have assumed he was nosy about everyone he worked with.  But having the conversation allowed them to air their grievances and worries about the situation, and even if nothing changes about the outcome, they've avoided carrying on an additional burden within each of them, which could lead to distance, resentment, or both.

Avoiding the conflict of hard words leads to the conflict of evil deeds.  The modern world offers us a lot of opportunities to retreat to communities and spaces which we know will meet our needs.  This abundance of avoidance gives us less incentive to be flexible.  We need more forced co-existence, where compromises must be made and a level of unhappiness must be expected.  Perfection will encourage us to refuse reasonable outcomes.  Give offense, take offense.  Anyone who cannot bear it, like a stock broker who doesn't want to be asked about their own financial interest, is not an honest dealer.  But you're not gonna find out by being polite.  To quote a great teacher, "Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!" An ethical life is a curious one.

(I can't seem to imbed links in my usual way, and while I didn't have many for this post anyway, how could I overlook an opportunity for this! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8jw_-Vh9Z0)

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 0% to this post's final version.  That's probably gonna be the way of things for the rest of this cycle.  At this point it's incidentally become a nice declaration of humanism :)

On patience

This week we read "The Passing of the Grey Company."  In it, Aragon's kin from the north, the grey company, arrive in Rohan with an urgent message.  This message drives Aragorn to leave Rohan and take the paths of the dead, and there we see him rally the Oathbreakers to his cause.  Gimli and Legolas join him, but not before going on a detour with Merry to show him Helm's Deep.

‘There was a battle here three nights ago,’ said Gimli, ‘and here Legolas and I played a
game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how it was! And
there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them, Legolas, do you think?’

‘Nay! There is no time,’ said the Elf. ‘Do not spoil the wonder with haste!
I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day of peace
and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that
hour we eat, and then set out again, I hear.’ 

We've all had some wonder ruined by haste.  A landmark visited from which we were rushed off to see another.  A good meal eaten too quickly.  Legolas is reminding us that wonder's reward is not in the seeing, but also the appreciating.  Watching 100 movies in a year is impressive, but not as impactful on one's life as watching 10 and journaling about them.

Why is this?  Why is seeing not enough.  There does seem to be evidence evidence reflection adds genuine benefit to experience.  Perhaps it, more than the experience itself, instills meaning and creates memories.  Life should not be a series of check boxes.  You shouldn't do things just because you should.  You should do them and then make sure you have time to enjoy them.

Legolas and Gimli should not just see the Glittering Caves, they should take their time in them. Like a museum they should enjoy and embrace each work of art that draws them in.  Do something unique to remember them by.  I don't know - play hide-and-go-seek.

We often think of the ethical life as making the right choices, but I think it is also about living the fullest life.  It is ethical to enjoy the world.  Without enjoyment, what else is there?  Making the lives of others better, sure, but for what?  Life on its own is not enough.  People should live so that they experience joy - and that includes us.

I struggle a lot with this kind of check-boxing.  I do something to get it done - or, more positively, to be able to say I did it.  But this prevents me from experiencing real joy and connection.  I get like 10 news emails a day from different subscriptions.  I read many of them - not all.  But I think I'd be better off reading just 3 and thinking them over throughout the day, and maybe sharing my thoughts with friends, than reading 7 and just moving on to the next set the next day.

I think the key to such a plan is patience.  It takes patience to make deeper connection - the truest wonder in the world.  Not only can you ruin a friendship for a quick buck/reference/opinion, but hoping for a quick connection (to art, nature, work, a hobby, etc) will set one up for failure.  A quote I carry with me from an Orthodox Jew I knew, when I asked why they pray every day, because to me prayer often feels silly and empty: "Me, too.  But sometimes it all clicks, and I feel it.  So the more I pray, the more open I make myself to that occasional feeling."  That's also how I approach this blog.  Not all weeks are home runs - I know that.  But I can only nail the Big Ones by committing to the practice through the drudgery.

The key, then, is patience, and not expecting a regular reward.  Let the world be, and try to experience it on its own timeline, not your own.  You live in your own head enough, I bet.  True wonder is opening yourself up to the unknown.

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.

Three faces of pride

This week we read "Minas Tirith," the first chapter in Return of the King and one of my favorites.  Pippin (and through him, us), arrives in Minas Tirith, a city we've heard an awful lot about.  We finally gets to see it firsthand.  It's clearly past its prime (we're told the city is less populated than it had been and has the medieval equivalent of empty storefronts abound), but it is still a proud place.

Pride, like most things, can become a liability in excess.  Denethor is certainly full of it.  He learns Pippin was with Boromir when he died and questions him about all manner of detail.  We understand he wants to know about his son, but Gandalf points out there are more urgent issues to address.  He says:

'Do you think that I do not understand your purpose in questioning
 for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit by?’
‘If you understand it, then be content,’ returned Denethor. ‘Pride would
be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal
out such gifts according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor
is not to be made the tool of other men’s purposes, however worthy.

Denethor is so prideful he will not do what needs to be done if he thinks someone else is commanding him even if he agrees the cause is worthy.  He even acknowledges pride of this sort is folly, and yet he will 'disdai help and counsel at need'.

Later we meet Beregond, a guard in the city.  He is assigned to escort Pippin around when he isn't on duty.  Pippin is, of course, the first Hobbit ever in Minas Tirith (so much that he has to explain they refer to themselves as hobbits, not the more generic "halfling").  People are eager to meet him.

So Pippin went with Beregond and was made known to the
men of the Third Company. And it seemed that Beregond got as much
honour from it as his guest, for Pippin was very welcome.

Beregond doesn't seem bothered sharing the honors.  Indeed, he's not even the source!

Lastly we meet Bergil, Beregond's young son (He's something like 10-12).  Beregond's watch has begun and so he sends Pippin to find his son to spend time with him.  When Pippin meets him he doesn't believe he's not an adult and challenges him to a fight.  Pippin reveals he was sent by Beregond and Bergil crumbles,

"Then why did you not say so at once?" said Bergil,
and suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. "Do not tell me he
has changed his mind, and will send me away with the maidens!"

Pippin assures him this is not the case, and the two then become fast friends.

So we meet 3 different forms of pride.  Beregond's is obviously the golden mean.  It isn't always the ethical way to go between two choices, but it is here.  Let's briefly discuss the problem with the other two.

Denethor's pride is one that demands autonomy.  He will not be controlled by another.  His desire to command overrides his desire to win.

We can all relate, I think.  We like control.  Who hasn't said no because - and I don't care how old you are - your parent suggested something.  I've certainly heard about a show or book "too much" and refused to engage out of principle.  It's a dumb principle, but a principle it remains.

This sort of pride can drive us to loneliness.  We push others away in our desire to be free, and we lose community.  Then, maybe, we mistake loneliness for authentic freedom.  We must be alone - otherwise perhaps our lives might not be our own.  "Marriage is a ball and chain," or seeing a child as a burden and all that.  Autonomy is good (it's essential to ethically living), but community is the purpose of ethics.  It's not enough just to be good - it has to benefit others.

Bergil's pride demands recognition.  He tries to fight Pippin immediately.  He also recognizes the place of his father - we can imagine the fights they've had which led to this submission.  I don't mean physical fights (no need to get Oedipal), just regular parent/child struggles.  Given he is in the submissive role, he wants recognition whenever he can get it.  It doesn't matter if he loses another fight - he's already submitting to one person.  He just has to win one to get the recognition he craves.

The desire for recognition is within us all.  It is not enough to do a job well done - we also must have it known.  There are lots of ways for recognition to manifest - followers, money, friends, honors, subordinates - but we should be wary if that becomes the end-goal.  The point should be to get your money, followers, honors etc to do something.  They should not just be so many rocks in a collection.

It is good to feel pride in one's life - Especially in June! but make sure that pride is one you can share and celebrate with others instead of one derived from shutting others out or dominating them.

Denethor could have been more accepting of Gandalf's help.  His isolation will drive him to despair.  He can't conceive of a way in which he defeats Mordor - thus he consider it impossible.

Bergil could have been less aggressive about his unease with his place in the world (though most children, I think, are more like Bergil than not.  It's part of growing up).  What happens to him, though?  I'm not sure.  Bergil's not a character we've paid much attention to in the past.  Let's make an effort to do so when he comes back in a few chapters.  I'm curious to see what happens.  I really don't know...

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 nothing to this post's final version.