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!

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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!

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On goals and power

As if reading the wrong chapters wasn't enough I now am quite behind, so I'm giving myself 45 minutes to write, 15 to edit, and then I'm gonna LET IT GO.

This week we read two chapters and end the second part of our text - the Two Towers.  When I was younger I was convinced the towers were Isengard, Saruman's home, and Barad-dûr, Sauron's.  But now I think the references are to Isengard (where the first half of the book ends), and Cirith Ungol, the tower Shelob's Lair leads to - where we leave Frodo and Sam.  Just a thought...

The chapters we read this week are "Shelob's Lair" and "The Choices of Master Samwise."  In them Gollum plays his big trick on the hobbits.  He leads them to the titular Shelob's lair - who is a giant spider.  She hunts down Frodo, though Sam is able to defeat her.  And while she doesn't care about the Ring - her evil is more instinctual than Sauron's (or Gollum's) - we learn of a symbiotic relationship between them:

And as for Sauron: he knew where she lurked. It pleased him that she should dwell
there hungry but unabated in malice, a more sure watch upon that ancient
path into his land than any other that his skill could have devised. And Orcs, they were
useful slaves, but he had them in plenty. If now and again Shelob caught them to
stay her appetite, she was welcome: he could spare them...

So they both lived, delighting in their own devices, and feared no
assault, nor wrath, nor any end of their wickedness. Never yet had any fly escaped
from Shelob’s webs, and the greater now was her rage and hunger.

Here we see a distinct property of evil-doing.  There is no cooperation - only alignment.  Sauron and Shelob are both evil and they can live-and-let-live, but they don't purposefully work together.  Instead, it's more accurate to say they're a little less than apathetic to one another.  Shelob eats Sauron's orcs, but they're just orcs anyway - he doesn't care.  It's worth it, to him, to keep her in that tunnel.  As an unwitting guard she assists Sauron, but not intentionally.  If she lived on the borders of any Elvish or Human realm, she'd surely have been destroyed.  She benefits, too, from evil.

Gollum is similarly planning to use her, but as long as she gets some meat she won't care.  It's all instinct.  But we know if she were hungry enough, she'd also eat Gollum.  And we know if she took the Ring, Gollum would no longer see her as an asset.

While evil can work together, there's a clear limitation.  "Use" is probably the better word.  If you're useful to someone evil you'll be kept around.  Once you lose that use, you're toast.  There's no relationship to depend on - it's all transactional.

I recently played a tournament of Diplomacy, a game I have played for many years.  It's the best way I can experience needing to be opportunistic in this way.  Your neighbors are useful, or they are prey.  When people let underlying relationships dictate their play it can feel unfair.  It's at least always a bit surprising when that comes up.  I had an opportunity to do that in my last game and I turned it down - I don't like to play that way.  Someone else did do that that in my last game, and that required me to rethink my play.

Thinking of relationships as transactional is fun for a few hours over the weekend, but seems  to me like an exhausting way to live.  Constantly calculating if you can get enough out of this person to keep them around, or whether they've become more a drain than an asset.

Frodo and Sam want to save the world not to be heroes, or to reap rewards, but so they can go home and continue to live their old lives.  They want to complete the Quest, but ideally they'd like to also survive together.  Sauron and Gollum want the Ring for themselves to benefit themselves.  They don't want to live their lives - they want to rule everything (Actually, Gollum may want to just live quietly underground - but what kind of life is that?  He just obsesses over the Ring.).

If power is the great evil of our text, good's greatest asset is that it doesn't seek power for its own sake, and stops seeking it once a certain amount has been secured.  Tom Bombadil shows us how this can manifest into apathy, but I don't think this is generally the case.  We all want enough money to live comfortably - go on vacations and not need to panic when we're hit with a sudden bill.  Few of us feel the drive to accumulate more and more, and those that do certainly seem unhappy throughout these pursuits.  If the goal is more (money, time, lovers, followers, power, etc.) you'll never have enough.  A target allows you to, at some point, decide to give up your pursuit and enjoy what you have.  If your goal is power - or to strip your enemy of power - you're gonna have a hard time pumping the breaks.  Diplomacy ends when someone captures 18 Supply Centers not because 18 is a cool number but because, at that point, they have the ability to capture the whole map.  So that's the end of the game part.  But in real life, where there are rarely well-agreed-upon, clear-cut moments of "winning," fights can go on well after things have "settled," and "settled" fights can ignite anew.

I think the best way to approach most of these culture wars is to stake out a position and cling to it - not move the goalposts to turn a victory into "the first of many."  Celebrating victory is important, and allowing the dust to settle and so you can secure your victory is as important as winning in the first place.  Diplomacy isn't a well-known enough game to analogize with, so instead I'll use Jenga.  We all know that risky piece which, if we take, will feel GREAT and really leave our opponent reeling.  That's fun!  But culture wars should not thrive on fun and engagement.  That feeling of enthusiastic and inevitable victory should give you very serious pause!  Securing our goals is more important than the lure of more and more power.

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 was in such a rush!

Concerning habits

I have made another mistake!  This week's chapter was supposed  to be a double portion with last week's chapter - whoops!  So instead I'll double up this coming week.  My bad!

This week we read "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol."  Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up those very stairs, the least guarded way into Mordor.  Before they start climbing, though, Frodo has an encounter with the Witch King, whom he sees as he rides out to make war on Gondor.  Frodo begins to worry he will be caught, and he remembers the attack on Weathertop.

Even as these thoughts pierced him with dread and held him bound as with a spell, the Rider
halted suddenly, right before the entrance of the bridge, and behind him all the host stood still.
There was a pause, a dead silence. Maybe it was the Ring that called to the Wraith-lord,
and for a moment he was troubled, sensing some other power within his valley. This way
and that turned the dark head helmed and crowned with fear, sweeping the shadows with its
unseen eyes. Frodo waited, like a bird at the approach of a snake, unable to move. And as he
waited, he felt, more urgent than ever before, the command that he should put on the Ring.
But great as the pressure was, he felt no inclination now to yield to it. He knew that
 the Ring would only betray him, and that he had not,  even if he put it on, the power to
face the Morgul-king – not yet. There was no longer any answer to that command
in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beating
 upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, and as Frodo watched
with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some old story far away),
it moved the hand inch by inch towards the chain upon his neck.

I've written before about how the Ring can be a metaphor for bad habits.  Particularly those habits which eventually become maladaptive - and which we should leave behind.  

To quote the first link above: I both love and hate Diet Coke.  But I absolutely hate what Diet Coke does to me.  And yet.  And yet.  I cannot get rid of my desire for it.  I have no will in the matter.  I will drink it.

I think we can all relate.  There's a reason the phrase 'guilty pleasure' is so familiar, or why we call new shows or games 'addicting' when what we mean is "very engaging."  Bad habits are part of life.

And I think we can also relate to the idea that somehow our own willpower is supplanted in the struggle.  I don't know which is worse: To admit we chose to engage in the bad habit, or to admit that the pull of the bad habit overrode our ability to choose at all.  Both rob us of our agency - which is a necessary part of living ethically.  Someone forced to do the right thing, we understand, is not correctly considered a model citizen.  Someone forced to do the wrong thing, too, is not entirely villainous.  Free will is a large part of how we evaluate people - and ourselves.

The good news is we can build good habits - over time.  Unfortunately, even the first paragraph of this undermines the importance of free-will: "What we mistake for willpower is often a hallmark of habit."  People who do the right thing aren't constantly winning the battle to do the right thing - they stack the deck in their favor.  Neurons that fire together wire together and all that.  The more you do an action the easier it is to do again in the future.

We often consider life to be a series of events, choices, and consequences.  Maybe it would be better to reimagine life not as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story but as a sports match.  Players practice far more hours than the games they play take.  They practice not only to improve their skills but to automate them.  This is why booing and cheering at a sports game, while obviously fun, doesn't really make an impact.  They're very much within their own world, completing plays they have done many, many, many more times in private.

Let's take basketball.  When a player has the option to pass or to shoot, they make that decision based on the hundreds of hours of experience they've accumulated.  It is not event-choice-consequence.  The choice isn't really actively made - they're following a script they trust and have mastered.  It doesn't always work - and of course sometimes they go off script - but imagine playing basketball - a fast-moving game - and constantly thinking about what to do.  That would be mentally exhausting, as well as greatly disadvantage you whenever you pause to think.

The scipt is like a habit.  Similarly, we should strive to not just do good, but to develop do-good habits.  If you can automate good deeds you can avoid decision fatigue (which would make turning a blind eye easier).  Practice, practice, practice.  Your free will may not be engaged whenever you encounter an event-choice-consequence, but that's because it has instead been engaged ahead of time.

Bringing good into the world is too important to be left up to our whims.  We should practice doing the right thing as often as possible - so that when it really matters (and we all know it sometimes matters more than other times) we are more likely to do it not because we want to do the right thing but because doing the right thing is as natural as can be.

Or maybe we practice simply lessening our bad habits.  I do drink less Diet Coke than I did when I first wrote that post 10 years ago.  In another 10 years, who knows?  Maybe I'll be down to just 5 cans a week🙃.  Little victories, and all.

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

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On good in evil

This week we read "The Journey to the Crossroads."  The hobbits part with Faramir and continue on their journey.  As they say their farewells, Frodo says this, 

‘Most gracious host,’ said Frodo, ‘it was said to me by Elrond Halfelven

that I should find friendship upon the way, secret and unlooked for.

Certainly I looked for no such friendship as you have shown.

To have found it turns evil to great good.’

Why does our text have Frodo say "turns evil to great good," instead of something like "is a great good in a time of evil."  Faramir's kindness doesn't just ease the experience of the Quest.  Taking Frodo's words literally, the trials he's endured are not just worth it.  They, themselves, are good.

It's easy to find goodness among evil as an oasis from the struggle.  It's also tempting to see comforts in life as an escape from its regular hardships.  But this kind of disconnect - this either/or - may lead us to unhealthy places.  It could cause someone to want more comforts and less hardship.  But we all know people so privileged they view any obstacle as a deep injustice.  I think regularly experiencing hardship is probably good for people.

If the world was already good, that would seem obviously good.  However, I think the world would also become fragile.  A child who was given a sheltered upbringing, upon hearing about someone wrongfully arrested, is going to be startled such things occur.  Experiencing the imperfections of the world regularly (which encompasses anything from someone being fully evil to simply running into an inconvenience - a restaurant that doesn't cater to your dietary requirements) steels us against them.  If we wish to fight wrong, we must be willing to encounter it.  How will we know where it is otherwise?  Our fight against wrongs strengthens us by giving us practice in fighting wrongs.  At the end, not only do we right wrong X, but we become better equipped for the next fight.

When we encounter wrong, we shouldn't merely gasp at its persistence.  Maybe we will as an involuntary reaction.  How wonderful is it we live in a world where we can go a few days or even weeks without issue!  But after the shock of the reminder wears off we must ask: How can we overcome it?  

My own circle has become worried about the spike in antisemitism at anti-war protests (and other places) around the world.  I take heart in the fact many people disapprove, and that the police are protecting, not attacking, the Jews.  This "turns evil to great good."  I'm not safe from antisemitism because antisemitism is gone - because it may return.  I'm safe from antisemitism because I can count on others to defend me.  Far from make me worry for my family's safety, these protests have bolstered my sense of security, odd as that sounds.

Maybe the lesson of defeating evil is not that it is defeated, but that we proved it defeatable.  And if it can be done once, it can be done again and again and again.  We should therefore expect to repeat these struggles instead of allowing us to believe one defeat is enough.  And each time we win we should celebrate not its defeat but our capability to make the world a better place.

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

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On fear

Maybe I made a mistake.  Last week I said "Any principle is better than none, even a bad one."  On further reflection, that's not enough.  I've long said an ethical guide needs to be useful to have value.  It's easy to say what is right in an unrealistic way.  But these weekly deadlines are tireless, and I gotta to hit publish at some point.

Not that "Any principle is better than none, even a bad one" isn't true.  But when writing that sentence I think I should have made the classic correlation/causation check.  If there appears to be a relationship between X and Y, but X doesn't matter, the relationship to Y probably doesn't matter, either.  So if the content of your principle doesn't matter, what is it about having a principle (even if its bad) that makes it worthwhile?  That's what we'll look at today.

In this week's chapter, called "The Forbidden Pool," Faramir wakes Frodo up to show him Gollum, who has found their secret hideout.  He cannot be allowed to leave on his own because he could tell orcs of what he has found.

‘Shall we shoot?’ said Faramir, turning quickly to Frodo. Frodo did not answer for a moment. Then ‘No!’ he said. ‘No! I beg you not to.’ If Sam had dared, he would have said ‘Yes,’ quicker and louder.

Frodo is thinking - what is he thinking about?  I'd guess he is weighing the opportunity to be rid of Gollum against the Quest, and Gollum's necessary role in getting them into Mordor undetected.  The Quest, he decides, must come first.  Sam also makes a decision, and faster:  Kill Gollum.  However, he serves Frodo, whom he doesn't want to undermine.  He holds his tongue.

Both principles (the Quest, or deference to another) require thought.  As I said last time, principles rarely become instincts.  In both cases, their instinct is to kill Gollum.  But natural instinct is not necessarily the way to a higher calling.

Faramir again points out they can't let Gollum go.  Frodo's protests that Gollum probably doesn't even know there's a secret hideout in the area (He's in the titular forbidden pool because he is fishing).  Faramir insists Gollum must be reunited with Frodo, and only then will he allow him to leave him.  Frodo goes down to fetch Gollum, and while they are talking Gollum is captured by the men.  A series of misunderstandings make Gollum think Frodo tricked him for that purpose.  As an aside, Gollum is also shocked to realize he's stumbled upon anything of note - it seems clear he really thought he had just found a nice fishing spot.

By the time Frodo and Sam leave with Gollum, what trust had been between them has been broken.  Whatever part of Smeagol would resist Gollum's plan to turn Frodo over to Shelob is now thoroughly demoralized.  They both agree: Frodo is not to be trusted.

All this happens because Faramir is afraid.  For him, the whole conversation there is a clock ticking - if they let Gollum get away, then there is a danger they have so far avoided.  He doesn't give himself the opportunity to think clearly - because thinking is time spent not acting, and acting is what prevents that danger.

Ethics is doing the harder thing, and that harder thing is waiting.  It is harder to double-check, to take a few breaths, to delay for more evidence, to consider the possibility you are wrong.  It's easy to see why it's harder:  We're almost always up against something.  If not a lidless, all-seeing Eye then the assumptions of other people, or our financials, or an emotional pull, or hunger, or any other source of urgency.  Acting fast looks to be a virtue.  It absolutely has some value.  "Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good enough," is true.  But also don't let yourself be pushed by fear into action.  Don't believe any action is better than none.  Had Faramir been persuaded to do nothing then Gollum would never have known how close he was to their secret hideout and simply left the area when he was done fishing.

Any principle (even a bad one) is better than none because any principle requires you to pause and consider the implications of your actions.

Ethics, therefore, requires patience.  Fear - while also the mind-killer and a step towards the Dark Side - undermines our capacity to do good.  If you see someone pushing another to make a quick decision, they aren't being ethical.  If you see someone use danger to demand immediate action, they aren't being ethical.  A company following a credo of "move fast and break things" won't lead to ethical outcomes.

When we feel pressed - when urgent need pushes us to make a fast decision - it is imperative we grab control of the situation as soon as possible and resist the temptation to follow our gut.  Sure, jump out of the way of the train or defend yourself from an attack or flee from that tsunami - but as soon as you  are able to take a moment to think about your actions.  Where will they lead?  Are they building the kind of world you want to live in?  Are they reflective of the kind of person you want to be?

In our lives those life-and-death examples above are less likely.  But we've all felt urgency in other ways: The oncoming train of social pressure to take a stand; A crude remark from a stranger online or in the street; The tsunami of stress that makes us feel overwhelmed.  An quick response in the moment may feel good but it's probably not the one you'd choose if you had more time.  It's not the one you'd recommend to a friend.

Thoughtfulness, not immediacy, is the ethical way.  Think of your ethical role models.  Whoever they are, they probably spent a lot of time thinking and planning, and less time doing.  Their actions were the result of careful consideration so that their broader goals were met.

Acting on instinct, on fear, is going to lead you astray.  All those examples, whether the train or the stress, make us afraid.  If we don't act fast, our secret hideout may be revealed!  But that fear may be entirely unfounded.  It certainly will not be a helpful guide.

The world's a scary place.  There's no shame in being afraid.  Feeling fear is too natural for me to say "Stop it!"   However, ethics gives us something to lean on when the fear comes.  It gives us something more important than fitting in with friends or than having the perfect comeback.  It certainly gives us a concrete alternative, versus advice to simply ignore those things.

So here's the thing - and apologies for the abrupt ending, but it's now TUESDAY MORNING and, well, these deadlines are tireless y'all.  Ethics is doing the harder thing, which is resisting fear.

This was supposed to go up May 4th, when this connection would have been a bit more natural.  If I ever did a crossover post, it would be interesting to see how not only fear can pull us from ethics, but also hate and anger and suffering.  But we will have to wait for another time for that.

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