Frodo in a World of Boromirs
Oct 27, 2008
Kurt Luchs
One mark of a great metaphor is that it functions on several levels. In this respect J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings can be, and has been, interpreted to mean any number of things by its central metaphor of "One Ring to rule them all." The battle over the Master-ring some have read as an allegory of the battle between the Allied and Axis powers in World War II. Christians may find in it a mirror of the battle between Satan and God; socialists (and communists), a reenactment of the class war between capitalists and the working masses; environmentalists, a saga about the clash between industrialization and nature. Still others take it simply as a rousing tale so fine in the telling that these other possible layers of meaning become moot, or at least secondary.
Perhaps all of these views are valid; perhaps none are. That is the measure of how deeply and carefully Tolkien wrought his magic.
For me the Dark Lord's terrible ring holds another meaning, one that might serve as a warning for any age, but particularly, I fear, for our own. I see in it the lure of political power, specifically the ultimate power of the modern nation-state. And I must admit, even in trying to discuss this concept with most of those nearest and dearest to me, I feel like Frodo in a world of Boromirs.
Boromir, you'll recall, is the Judas of the Fellowship of the Ring. Sworn to protect Frodo the Ring-bearer with his life if need be, Boromir betrays his trust and tries to take the Ring by force, thereby sundering the Fellowship. Tellingly, all of this is done for the best of motives in Boromir's eyes. He means to accomplish nothing but good with the Ring, to save his beloved kingdom of Minas Tirith from Sauron's conquering armies.
In one of their own satires on power, The Giant Rat of Sumatra, the audio comedy troupe the Firesign Theatre speaks of "a power so great, it can only be used for good or evil." This is Boromir's tragically mistaken view of the One Ring. Though masking an unchecked power, the Ring is, for Boromir, only a tool--something no better or worse than the person who uses it. He seems almost unaware of the Ring's dark side. Insofar as he is aware, he dismisses it out of hand, swearing, "True-hearted Men, they will not be corrupted." Like any politician lobbying for his favorite cause--himself--he supplies a noble motive: "We do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause." He also supplies a noble champion. Guess who? He muses, "What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great leader?" Nor should Frodo have any fear that Boromir will succumb to the Ring's blandishments because, as he vows, "I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it."
Yet keeping or not keeping such power is not the main issue. Merely to desire it is to show oneself unworthy of it even for a moment. It is no accident that the Ring comes to a humble bearer who in no way has sought it and who wants no part of it. In the end it proves too much even for Frodo.
Was Frodo less resistant to the temptations of power than America's greatest president? No, not Reagan, or FDR, or Lincoln, or even Jefferson. Washington: the only President who was ever offered a lifelong throne and turned it down for a temporary desk in a bureaucrat's office. Almost to a man, his successors have been offered that same desk and have mistaken it for a throne. The current occupant, however sincere, is no exception (nor does it matter what month this is published or what year you read it). Roosevelt II--as H.L. Mencken aptly called FDR--actually tried to get a throne for himself, or the next best thing in a democracy, a permanent presidency. He came frighteningly close to succeeding before death intervened. The Onion's book Our Dumb Century contains a headline I contributed to sum up this absurdity: "Roosevelt's Remains To Run For Fifth Term."
In a year of partisan bitterness and economic havoc, it is well to recall that not every step is forward, not every change is for the better. Our Founders knew this. They grasped the truth of Lord Acton's words--“Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely"--long before he wrote them. They understood, along with Thomas Paine: "That government is best which governs least." And to our everlasting blessing, they did their best to enshrine that precept into a system made to preserve it. They tried to create a government whose various powers were strictly limited and balanced, a government directly answerable to the people, in whom all rights and powers were ultimately held to reside. Their effort was heroic, and for a time, so were the results.
Looking at our current plight one could say they failed us. But the truth is, we have failed them. We have forgotten and abandoned nearly every principle they stood for. Where our Founders saw very little that government could do, and even less that it should do, we see no area of life in which government should not be involved. Too often we see government as the leader, all-knowing, all-providing, all-powerful. The worse the crisis, the more frantically and counter-intuitively we seek government solutions. Just now we are suffering through a government-generated economic debacle from which (we are assured) only government can save us.
To anyone who loves liberty as our Founders did the difference between the two major parties--always slim--has become invisible. Democrats and Republicans may disagree slightly on the structure and parameters of programs and how much money to pour into each. They no longer disagree on whether government should have its long fingers in everything.
It is no longer shameful to lust after power so long as one lusts for the good of the people. In the words of Boromir, speaking of the One Ring, "For you seem to think of its power only in the hands of the enemy: of its evil uses not of its good." The only rejoinder, in Frodo's words to Boromir, is that "we cannot use it, and what is done with it turns to evil." Yes, it's that simple. And as you ascend the levels of authority, from city to state to nation, it only becomes more true.
There are several reasons. One, already alluded to, is the corruption of power. No matter for what noble ends power may be sought, at some point it always becomes an end in itself, and then the jig is up . . . but the power and its abuses live on. This is why even the most flagrantly failed government programs are nearly impossible to kill.
Another reason that centralized government social engineering simply doesn't work is what F.A. Hayek called "the knowledge problem." Hayek was the only Austrian economist ever to win a Nobel Prize. He won it partly for a brief essay called "The Use of Knowledge in Society," in which he explained that government is intrinsically helpless before most social and economic problems because the knowledge needed to solve them is too widely dispersed among the members of society. It cannot ever be made known in a timely fashion to a central authority, and even if it could, that authority would lack the godlike coordinating ability needed to use that knowledge effectively. Adding to the difficulty, much of this knowledge is tacit knowledge, not consciously known or articulated by the individuals who have it.
What can make effective use of the knowledge distributed locally among the members of society? Only the free market system and its accompanying structure of voluntary trades and changing prices. Freely determined market prices are what send signals to individuals telling them how to best use their unique knowledge to their own, and ultimately society's, advantage. Without a free market, the only way to allocate resources is by government fiat--a few, far-removed individuals making choices for us all, perhaps with the best of intentions but in near-total ignorance. The result is government programs that clumsily and ineptly ape the market, with none of its efficiencies and never coming close to achieving consumer satisfaction. A government program must be counted a success if it does not achieve the exact opposite of its stated goal.
Whatever it does achieve comes at a terrible cost. If you include all forms of taxation, government confiscates about 40 to 50 percent of our income every year. What we receive for this robbery in goods and services is a pretty poor trade by any measure. Our schools turn out ill-mannered ignoramuses by the millions, many of them not fit for anything but Congress. Our health care system is a shell game where Peter is robbed and Paul doesn't even get paid. Our social security system is a transparent Ponzi scheme that, if perpetrated by an individual, would earn him life in prison. The U.S. Treasury is the world's greatest counterfeiter, inflicting on us an invisible form of taxation called inflation.
At this point some Christian readers are no doubt gnashing their teeth and saying, "But Scripture supports the idea of government! It tells us to obey lawful authorities and to pay our taxes! Jesus was a spiritual revolutionary, not a political one!" All true. But not the whole truth. Yes, Jesus took great pains to make sure his mission was not mistaken for a political uprising--and even so, some authorities did take it that way. Both the Old and New Testaments urge believers to be good citizens and to obey as much of the civil law as conscience allows. And even Jesus paid his taxes, though by having Peter pull the money from the mouth of a fish he turned the act into a form of subtle satire that should not be misconstrued as an uncritical endorsement of taxation.
We need to look at other biblical passages for a more complete picture of how God views earthly governments. Consider when the prophet Samuel attempts to dissuade the Israelites from choosing a secular king:
"And he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: He will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and some shall run before his chariots. And he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over fifties; and will set them to ear his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and instruments of his chariots. And he will take your daughters to be confectionaries, and to be cooks, and to be bakers. And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. And he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give to his officers, and to his servants. And he will take your menservants, and your maidservants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work. He will take the tenth of your sheep: and ye shall be his servants. And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have chosen you; and the Lord will not hear you in that day" (1 Sam. 8:11—18).
Admittedly, the king described by Samuel (who turned out to be King Saul) was unlike our modern leaders in one crucial respect: he only took 10 percent of his people's belongings for his own uses. That makes him four or five times more generous than anyone in Washington, D.C. Aside from that, however, is the portrait not familiar? Does it validate our quest to turn more and more of our problems over to the One Ring of political power?
Still, some might counter, our modern world is so much more complex than the ones the early Christians or America's founders inhabited. Surely the unique challenges of these complicated times require more government mediation? Actually, no. And modern science helps explain why. Complexity theory teaches that as systems become more complex, they become more inherently unpredictable and uncontrollable. Happily, they also become self-organizing. But complex systems like economies are extremely sensitive to initial conditions. Because control is not a realistic option, all government can or should do is set and enforce some of those initial conditions, or ground rules, not try to predetermine outcomes. Discouraging fraud at the outset is possible. Achieving fairness on some glorious tomorrow (in other words, by incentivizing or even forcing banks to make bad loans to the underprivileged until the nation is bankrupt) is not.
One final point: The Bible often tells us to pray for our leaders, and to pray for our enemies. But where does it ever say that those are two separate prayers? Recall that one leader the early Church was called to pray for was their own persecutor, the sadistic and mentally unstable Nero, who "fiddled while Rome burned" and eventually did everyone a huge favor by committing suicide. If only all politicians passed such accurate judgment upon themselves.
The pull of liberty is strong, but only for those who know it and treasure it. After decades of public education designed more to produce compliant subjects and beneficiaries than thinking, self-reliant citizens, there are precious few among us who can even articulate, let alone defend, the principles for which our founders bled and died. There are far more (and especially the well-meaning religious) who say, as Gandalf says of the One Ring, "Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good." In their pity and all too sincere desire to do good, they do not see the end of that road as Gandalf does: "With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly."
Is there hope? Yes. There is always hope. Whatever its imperfections and excesses and absurdities, liberty is always better than coercion. Sooner or later this always seems to become apparent. When it does, men and women ready to take a stand for liberty always seem to spring from the earth. Perhaps that moment is again near. If so, it will not be the last. There is no final battle for liberty in a fallen world. As Tolkien reminds us (again in the words of Gandalf), "Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again."
Kurt Luchs has written humor for The Onion, the New Yorker and McSweeney's Internet Tendency, as well as for the television programs Politically Incorrect and The Late Late Show. He edits the online literary humor publication TheBigJewel.com.
Perhaps all of these views are valid; perhaps none are. That is the measure of how deeply and carefully Tolkien wrought his magic.
For me the Dark Lord's terrible ring holds another meaning, one that might serve as a warning for any age, but particularly, I fear, for our own. I see in it the lure of political power, specifically the ultimate power of the modern nation-state. And I must admit, even in trying to discuss this concept with most of those nearest and dearest to me, I feel like Frodo in a world of Boromirs.
Boromir, you'll recall, is the Judas of the Fellowship of the Ring. Sworn to protect Frodo the Ring-bearer with his life if need be, Boromir betrays his trust and tries to take the Ring by force, thereby sundering the Fellowship. Tellingly, all of this is done for the best of motives in Boromir's eyes. He means to accomplish nothing but good with the Ring, to save his beloved kingdom of Minas Tirith from Sauron's conquering armies.
In one of their own satires on power, The Giant Rat of Sumatra, the audio comedy troupe the Firesign Theatre speaks of "a power so great, it can only be used for good or evil." This is Boromir's tragically mistaken view of the One Ring. Though masking an unchecked power, the Ring is, for Boromir, only a tool--something no better or worse than the person who uses it. He seems almost unaware of the Ring's dark side. Insofar as he is aware, he dismisses it out of hand, swearing, "True-hearted Men, they will not be corrupted." Like any politician lobbying for his favorite cause--himself--he supplies a noble motive: "We do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause." He also supplies a noble champion. Guess who? He muses, "What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great leader?" Nor should Frodo have any fear that Boromir will succumb to the Ring's blandishments because, as he vows, "I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it."
Yet keeping or not keeping such power is not the main issue. Merely to desire it is to show oneself unworthy of it even for a moment. It is no accident that the Ring comes to a humble bearer who in no way has sought it and who wants no part of it. In the end it proves too much even for Frodo.
Was Frodo less resistant to the temptations of power than America's greatest president? No, not Reagan, or FDR, or Lincoln, or even Jefferson. Washington: the only President who was ever offered a lifelong throne and turned it down for a temporary desk in a bureaucrat's office. Almost to a man, his successors have been offered that same desk and have mistaken it for a throne. The current occupant, however sincere, is no exception (nor does it matter what month this is published or what year you read it). Roosevelt II--as H.L. Mencken aptly called FDR--actually tried to get a throne for himself, or the next best thing in a democracy, a permanent presidency. He came frighteningly close to succeeding before death intervened. The Onion's book Our Dumb Century contains a headline I contributed to sum up this absurdity: "Roosevelt's Remains To Run For Fifth Term."
In a year of partisan bitterness and economic havoc, it is well to recall that not every step is forward, not every change is for the better. Our Founders knew this. They grasped the truth of Lord Acton's words--“Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely"--long before he wrote them. They understood, along with Thomas Paine: "That government is best which governs least." And to our everlasting blessing, they did their best to enshrine that precept into a system made to preserve it. They tried to create a government whose various powers were strictly limited and balanced, a government directly answerable to the people, in whom all rights and powers were ultimately held to reside. Their effort was heroic, and for a time, so were the results.
Looking at our current plight one could say they failed us. But the truth is, we have failed them. We have forgotten and abandoned nearly every principle they stood for. Where our Founders saw very little that government could do, and even less that it should do, we see no area of life in which government should not be involved. Too often we see government as the leader, all-knowing, all-providing, all-powerful. The worse the crisis, the more frantically and counter-intuitively we seek government solutions. Just now we are suffering through a government-generated economic debacle from which (we are assured) only government can save us.
To anyone who loves liberty as our Founders did the difference between the two major parties--always slim--has become invisible. Democrats and Republicans may disagree slightly on the structure and parameters of programs and how much money to pour into each. They no longer disagree on whether government should have its long fingers in everything.
It is no longer shameful to lust after power so long as one lusts for the good of the people. In the words of Boromir, speaking of the One Ring, "For you seem to think of its power only in the hands of the enemy: of its evil uses not of its good." The only rejoinder, in Frodo's words to Boromir, is that "we cannot use it, and what is done with it turns to evil." Yes, it's that simple. And as you ascend the levels of authority, from city to state to nation, it only becomes more true.
There are several reasons. One, already alluded to, is the corruption of power. No matter for what noble ends power may be sought, at some point it always becomes an end in itself, and then the jig is up . . . but the power and its abuses live on. This is why even the most flagrantly failed government programs are nearly impossible to kill.
Another reason that centralized government social engineering simply doesn't work is what F.A. Hayek called "the knowledge problem." Hayek was the only Austrian economist ever to win a Nobel Prize. He won it partly for a brief essay called "The Use of Knowledge in Society," in which he explained that government is intrinsically helpless before most social and economic problems because the knowledge needed to solve them is too widely dispersed among the members of society. It cannot ever be made known in a timely fashion to a central authority, and even if it could, that authority would lack the godlike coordinating ability needed to use that knowledge effectively. Adding to the difficulty, much of this knowledge is tacit knowledge, not consciously known or articulated by the individuals who have it.
What can make effective use of the knowledge distributed locally among the members of society? Only the free market system and its accompanying structure of voluntary trades and changing prices. Freely determined market prices are what send signals to individuals telling them how to best use their unique knowledge to their own, and ultimately society's, advantage. Without a free market, the only way to allocate resources is by government fiat--a few, far-removed individuals making choices for us all, perhaps with the best of intentions but in near-total ignorance. The result is government programs that clumsily and ineptly ape the market, with none of its efficiencies and never coming close to achieving consumer satisfaction. A government program must be counted a success if it does not achieve the exact opposite of its stated goal.
Whatever it does achieve comes at a terrible cost. If you include all forms of taxation, government confiscates about 40 to 50 percent of our income every year. What we receive for this robbery in goods and services is a pretty poor trade by any measure. Our schools turn out ill-mannered ignoramuses by the millions, many of them not fit for anything but Congress. Our health care system is a shell game where Peter is robbed and Paul doesn't even get paid. Our social security system is a transparent Ponzi scheme that, if perpetrated by an individual, would earn him life in prison. The U.S. Treasury is the world's greatest counterfeiter, inflicting on us an invisible form of taxation called inflation.
At this point some Christian readers are no doubt gnashing their teeth and saying, "But Scripture supports the idea of government! It tells us to obey lawful authorities and to pay our taxes! Jesus was a spiritual revolutionary, not a political one!" All true. But not the whole truth. Yes, Jesus took great pains to make sure his mission was not mistaken for a political uprising--and even so, some authorities did take it that way. Both the Old and New Testaments urge believers to be good citizens and to obey as much of the civil law as conscience allows. And even Jesus paid his taxes, though by having Peter pull the money from the mouth of a fish he turned the act into a form of subtle satire that should not be misconstrued as an uncritical endorsement of taxation.
We need to look at other biblical passages for a more complete picture of how God views earthly governments. Consider when the prophet Samuel attempts to dissuade the Israelites from choosing a secular king:
"And he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: He will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and some shall run before his chariots. And he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over fifties; and will set them to ear his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and instruments of his chariots. And he will take your daughters to be confectionaries, and to be cooks, and to be bakers. And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. And he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give to his officers, and to his servants. And he will take your menservants, and your maidservants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work. He will take the tenth of your sheep: and ye shall be his servants. And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have chosen you; and the Lord will not hear you in that day" (1 Sam. 8:11—18).
Admittedly, the king described by Samuel (who turned out to be King Saul) was unlike our modern leaders in one crucial respect: he only took 10 percent of his people's belongings for his own uses. That makes him four or five times more generous than anyone in Washington, D.C. Aside from that, however, is the portrait not familiar? Does it validate our quest to turn more and more of our problems over to the One Ring of political power?
Still, some might counter, our modern world is so much more complex than the ones the early Christians or America's founders inhabited. Surely the unique challenges of these complicated times require more government mediation? Actually, no. And modern science helps explain why. Complexity theory teaches that as systems become more complex, they become more inherently unpredictable and uncontrollable. Happily, they also become self-organizing. But complex systems like economies are extremely sensitive to initial conditions. Because control is not a realistic option, all government can or should do is set and enforce some of those initial conditions, or ground rules, not try to predetermine outcomes. Discouraging fraud at the outset is possible. Achieving fairness on some glorious tomorrow (in other words, by incentivizing or even forcing banks to make bad loans to the underprivileged until the nation is bankrupt) is not.
One final point: The Bible often tells us to pray for our leaders, and to pray for our enemies. But where does it ever say that those are two separate prayers? Recall that one leader the early Church was called to pray for was their own persecutor, the sadistic and mentally unstable Nero, who "fiddled while Rome burned" and eventually did everyone a huge favor by committing suicide. If only all politicians passed such accurate judgment upon themselves.
The pull of liberty is strong, but only for those who know it and treasure it. After decades of public education designed more to produce compliant subjects and beneficiaries than thinking, self-reliant citizens, there are precious few among us who can even articulate, let alone defend, the principles for which our founders bled and died. There are far more (and especially the well-meaning religious) who say, as Gandalf says of the One Ring, "Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good." In their pity and all too sincere desire to do good, they do not see the end of that road as Gandalf does: "With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly."
Is there hope? Yes. There is always hope. Whatever its imperfections and excesses and absurdities, liberty is always better than coercion. Sooner or later this always seems to become apparent. When it does, men and women ready to take a stand for liberty always seem to spring from the earth. Perhaps that moment is again near. If so, it will not be the last. There is no final battle for liberty in a fallen world. As Tolkien reminds us (again in the words of Gandalf), "Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again."
Kurt Luchs has written humor for The Onion, the New Yorker and McSweeney's Internet Tendency, as well as for the television programs Politically Incorrect and The Late Late Show. He edits the online literary humor publication TheBigJewel.com.
