Virtue in The Lord of the Rings: Part III

In the last two posts I talked about how even though many of us love The Lord of the Rings, there is a growing gap between our admiration of the characters, and our understanding of them. 

Specifically, I showed that LOTR is founded on a more classical understanding of the virtues, while modern society leans much more utilitarian. This will become even more evident when we compare and contrast Dune by Frank Herbert, with LOTR. 

I will start by saying that I really enjoy Dune as a book (I have more complicated thoughts about the movies), because of the fantastic world building and the questions Herbert asks. 

But Dune and the LOTR stand on opposite ends of a spectrum (all the more interesting when you realize they were only published ten years apart). 

While it may not appear so on the surface, I will argue that at its heart, Dune is hugely utilitarian, while I’ve already claimed LOTR is full of virtue ethics. Our character focus this time will be Aragorn. Not only is he a warrior king, and the ultimate friend, but he is full of compassion, humility and mercy. Furthermore, he stands completely opposite to Sauron. Instead of seeking to dominate and enslave, he wins men’s loyalty, he protects and he heals. But more on him later. We’ve already talked a lot about the ethics of LOTR, so let’s take a look at Dune. 

The opening premise of Dune is that a quasi-religious sect of gifted women have manipulated the genetics of mankind in the ultimate breeding program in order to produce a messiah-like figure who can lead the empire. Everything about the Bene Gesseret is about manipulation and control, most obviously the use of the Voice, which overrides an individual’s will. But they have also gone so far as to plant certain religious doctrines on multiple planets so that any of their members can manipulate that population if the need arises. 

Enter Paul Atreides. Because of the movies, there has been some interesting debate on social media of whether Paul is a hero or an antihero. (I think the fact that it can be argued either way is telling) But one of the most popular interpretations is that he is a good man in difficult circumstances. He did not choose to be born as this potential messiah-figure. On the planet Arrakis he finds himself fulfilling the prophecies of the Fremen people because of his genes and his mother’s training. He finds himself in a position of overwhelming power and the question is what he will do with it. Paul is resistant to that power, and seeks a way to relinquish it. This is why people argue that he is, ultimately, a good man. 

But I would argue that it takes more than simply having a conscience to be a good man. Paul does have a conscience…but if he is a good man, he is only so in a utilitarian way, not in a virtuous way. His mother has raised him to be calculated. He does not try and conquer his fear in order to cultivate the virtue of courage, but simply because “fear is a mind killer.” But there is more to it than that. Here’s where Frank Herbert does Paul dirty. Because of his unique genetics and training, when Paul eats the spice on Arrakis, it gives him the ability to see the future. Paul’s decisions in the second half of the story are entirely based on preventing certain futures and trying to instantiate one. This screams “greatest good for the greatest number of people” and “least harm to the least number of people,” which is classic utilitarianism. Paul does not base his decisions on what is good or evil right now, in this moment, in these circumstances, with this person. He bases his decisions on future consequences, which only he can see. 

In contrast, exercising the virtues requires particularity and accountability. As Alasdair MacIntyre puts it: 

“I am answerable for doing or failing to do what anyone who occupies my role owes to others and this accountability terminates only with death. I have until my death to do what I have to do. Moreover, this accountability is particular. It is to, for, and with specific individuals that I must do what I ought, and it is to these same and other individuals, members of the same local community, that I am accountable (126).”

But nobody else has or could occupy the role Paul occupies and there is little accountability for him. In a way he becomes the exception to every rule. Furthermore, the decisions he makes become based on the future and the empire as a whole, as opposed to the present and the people directly around him. 

Of course, the question of how our ethics would be affected if someone (or multiple someones) could actually see the future, is an interesting one. But if we think it would alter what is right and wrong, I think we have a greater meta-ethical question on our hands. The assumption that we have to know the consequences before we make a moral decision is a dangerous one. Virtue ethics argues that moral decisions have both internal and external consequences, and we need to factor in both. But the internal consequences of moral decisions are the only ones fully inside your control. (From last post, Elrond could never know all the external consequences that would come from pushing Isildur into the lava or from not pushing him in, though he could guess at some of them. But he could be certain of the internal evil of murdering Isildur.)

Now let’s return to Aragorn. Like Paul, Aragorn was also born into a specific genetic line and heritage, with a looming destiny on his shoulders. In a way, he is also a messiah-like figure. But the way he makes decisions is so completely unlike Paul. Aragorn does nothing out of self-preservation. Nor does he do anything to establish himself as king. Like I said above, he is the heir of Elendil, the only one who can claim the throne in Gondor, one of the few men whom Sauron actually fears. He has this huge destiny, and yet he does not hesitate to put his life on the line for his friends, over and over. And that is what makes him worthy to be king. I think his virtue shines the clearest when Merry and Pippin get taken by orcs. 

“‘With hope or without hope we will follow the trail of our enemies. And woe to them, if we prove the swifter! We will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Forth the Three Hunters (Two Towers, 12)!’” 

As the chase goes on, the chance of them catching up and saving their friends grows smaller. 

“Gimli ground his teeth. ’This is a bitter end to our hope and to all our toil!’ He said.

’To hope, maybe, but not to toil,’ said Aragorn. ‘We shall not turn back here (Two Towers, 21).’” 

Aragorn’s choice to pursue the orcs was not based on their chances of success, but on his responsibility to Merry and Pippin. He throws absolutely everything into trying to save them, including all of his own future hopes and plans. 

Part of understanding what drives Aragorn is understanding that he does not live in the future, but the present. He may be king one day, but he is not king now and so he does not live as if he were. He lives in the present, and takes very seriously every duty and responsibility that is placed on him, no matter how small, whether that be protecting the Shire as a Ranger, helping lead the Fellowship, or simply being a loyal friend. 

“Why does it matter?” You ask. 

Because as Gandalf says, “‘[E]ven the very wise cannot see all ends (Fellowship, 65).’” (I think it is worth noting here, that several characters in LOTR are said to be gifted with foresight, as well, though we don’t know exactly what that means.)

As much as we think we can predict the future, we cannot. We cannot predict other people’s choices. But we can be responsible for our own actions. Part of the tragedy of Denethor is that he should have focused on his responsibility to his people, no matter the outcome. He did not see that that would have been a victory in itself, as Theoden did. 

Contrary to what society says, the roles we play (father, daughter, sister, boss, employee, student) are not irrelevant, cultural restrictions on us. They are the very avenue to cultivate virtue in our lives and our communities, and thus push the darkness back. 

I think many of us relate to Eomer when he says:

“It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?’

‘As he has ever judged,’ said Aragorn. ‘Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood, as in his own house (Two Towers, 33).’” 

MacIntyre puts it this way: “Someone who genuinely possesses a virtue can be expected to manifest it in very different types of situations…(205)”

But there is another massive difference between The Lord of the Rings and Dune which helps explain why the moral frameworks differ so greatly. They disagree vastly on what sort of narrative the human life is. 

According to Tolkien, the human situation is such that one can fulfill one’s moral obligations, even in the face of incredible darkness, and be victorious, even if that only means dying well (Boromir, Theoden). In many senses, The Lord of the Rings is a heroic saga. Our heroes fulfill the duties of their roles at great peril to themselves, and defeat evil.

Herbert’s Dune plays out much more like a Greek tragedy, where Paul is put in an impossible situation with conflicting demands. The way Herbert sets it up, there does not seem to be any way for him to honor his father, follow his conscience, and prevent the future holy war. His goal is always to minimize the damage, because there is (seemingly) no way to prevent it altogether. This resembles the plays of Sophocles in which “there are indeed crucial conflicts in which different virtues appear as making rival and incompatible claims upon us. But our situation is tragic in that we have to recognize the authority of both claims (MacIntyre 143).” 

I think a lot of people have given up on virtue because they have subconsciously accepted the narrative that life is so full of conflicting moral demands, one cannot fulfill them all. “There is a…modern tradition which holds that the variety and heterogeneity of human goods is such that their pursuit cannot be reconciled in any single moral order…(MacIntyre 142).” 

But I think that is a manifest lie. It can be overwhelming to try and navigate the highly charged modern moral landscape. But I suspect that a lot of the overwhelm stems from a mental moral image that is zoomed out too far. The lesson we can learn from Aragorn is to be fully present when and where we are and to fulfill our responsibilities to the people directly around us to the best of our ability. When you cultivate virtue in the small areas of your life, I think you will find it there to help you when the big crises hit. 

SOURCES:

MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. 

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Fellowship of the Ring. Ballantine Books, 1994. 

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Two Towers. Ballantine Books, 1994. 

About the Author

Elisabeth Dawson is an award-winning author of science fiction and fantasy. Raised in the remote mountains of New Guinea, she has lived in California, Florida, the Bahamas, and Brasil. She currently lives in Idaho with her best friend and roommate, drinking lots of tea and learning crochet. She holds a B.A. in Biblical Studies and is currently pursuing a Master’s of Philosophy at Biola University.

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