The Fearless, the Ruthless
Boromir's Catastrophic Political Theology in 'The Fellowship of the Ring'
Introduction
In 2020, R.E. Parrish Comics illustrated a humorous piece titled “Tolkien vs. Lewis: Allegories” in which a student asks: “Professor Tolkien! Is it true that you wrote your novels as an allegory for the first World War?” Tolkien responds seriously—though humorously: “No. Never. Ask me again and I will call the police.” The next panel illustrates C.S. Lewis, crafting his manuscript of the Chronicles of Narnia series, thinking, “If even one person reading this does not understand that the big lion is Jesus, I will set myself on fire.”1
Despite spending decades together, bouncing fantastical ideas around in the Eagle and Child pub, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis could never fully agree on the purpose of fantasy literature. Tolkien’s novels may contain theologically allegorical parallels or a political message2 but at the same time, the author insisted that they remain stand-alone stories; they were not written only as such. On the other hand, Lewis adamantly penned The Chronicles of Narnia to lean heavily on theological allegory—some of the clearest examples being Aslan as Jesus and Edmund as a Prodigal Son figure. For Lewis, the theological “outside world,” per se, influenced Narnia heavily. If politics, theology, or environmentalism are found in The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien would argue that one must see them as originating in Middle-earth and finding similarity with the tumult of the “outside world’s” times.
That being stated, I am no formal Tolkien scholar and do not intend with the following essay to infringe upon the life, legacy, or legendarium of the greatest fantasy author in recent history.
The following brief essay is a survey of political-theological themes that, to argue from Tolkien’s perspective, are not inherently allegorical. My goal is to anatomize a detailed scene in The Fellowship of the Ring, offering insights on its application to modern issues. The case of Boromir, son of Denethor II, is a tangible cautionary tale that holds significance for politically-involved Christians today.
Three lessons may be realized upon consideration of the word and deed of Boromir: 1) fear is no sure guide, 2) it is costly to wield evil things with good intentions, and 3) true victory is found when we don’t play “the game” by the same rules.
The primary source of Boromir’s thought in question is found at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo and the Company have long traversed Middle-earth, nearly escaping the mines of Moria—at the great loss and sacrifice of Gandalf the Grey—passing through Lothlórien of Galadhrim and coming to a fork in the Road, as it were. The Company is undecided on which path they should next follow.
Boromir, with already-glinting eyes, gazes upon the One Ring, and attempts to persuade Frodo in decision-making. His refrain becomes less support for a certain path, and more reason to wield the Ring for the Company’s—and Middle-earth’s, he argues—rescue and benefit:
We do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause. And behold! in our need chance brings to light the Ring of Power. It is a gift, I say; a gift to the foes of Mordor. It is mad not to use it, to use the power of the Enemy against him. The fearless, the ruthless, these alone will achieve victory.3
1. Fear is no sure guide.
Firstly, though Boromir self-categorizes as one of “the fearless” in this statement, it is not fearlessness that drives his desires. Having seen the Ring, he cannot help but be consumed by the will to power that it offers. Recalling the valiance of his people in the War for the Ring—despite seemingly incessant testing by Lady Galadriel in Lothlórien—Boromir insists upon the honesty, bravery, and trustworthiness of the people of Gondor.
In his defense of heritage and war-time history, Boromir’s deep fear of both the past and the future informed his decisions in the present. Or, more faithfully to the text, the One Ring’s power enhanced his fears, promised the ultimate power of Middle-earth to Man, not some miniscule little Hobbit—an albeit resilient one—and bade him steal the Ring for his own purposes.
(On the evil of Middle-earth, Bradley J. Berzer writes that “even to mimic evil could lead to the irrevocable alteration of the virtuous person’s understanding of the world.”4 For Boromir, mimicry with good intentions—the notion of borrowing of the Ring to bring an end to evil—corrupted his perspective of the world and morality.)
It is worth noting how genuine Boromir’s fears were: the passage of time and intentional storytelling embedded his mind with the tangible, long-lasting dangers of Sauron and the One Ring. His mistake, however, was believing that, even for a moment, he may have wielded the Ring for good purposes to stamp out his fear of evil. In the moment, Boromir forgot Elrond’s considerable advice at the Council: “It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the enemy, for good or for ill.”5
Fear is no sure guide.
Today’s political climate (namely in the United States of America) is increasingly fear-inducing. A tumultuous few years engaging the novel COVID-19 Pandemic—in the midst of one of the most divisive Presidential Elections—is understandably a source of fear, no matter one’s political affiliation. The palpable tension to continue living day-to-day life while the nation’s leaders wage (theoretical) war on each other and massive policy changes (such as the Respect for Marriage Act) ensue produces a fear of the unknown—the feeling that the U.S. government is a powder-keg reaching combustion.
Fear, however, is no sure guide.
Acting out of fear often produces naïve action, and rarely leads into fearlessness. Fear beckons his victims to an opaque, anxious, false reality, convincing them what’s not in front of their eyes is the most dangerous threat to them, and that grabbing the nearest vice is their best good.
In an America flooded with conspiracy theories accompanied by the progressive breakdown of tradition (i.e., marriage), it seems that political power is the safeguard: if the U.S. government can be made ultra-Conservative, the “Christian values” that Founding Fathers established the nation upon might be preserved. If the government can be made ultra-Liberal, then the protection of minorities, people in the LGBTQ+ Community, and the continued breakdown of religious snobbery might be possible.6
The notion that political power and policy change is the fastest way to long-lasting control and good for the nation produces the urgency to wield a corrupt system with noble intentions. The U.S. Government is not the “one [Government] to rule them all,” but it surely possesses much power and influence on the world. Its politicians, however, have made government work increasingly corrupt. Christians should not allow fear to influence a power-grab for a corrupted (and corrupting) government.
This is not to say that significant Christian influence in government is bad—it’s entirely necessary! But those involved must not play “the game” by the standard rules; they must therefore accept the consequences and backlash that may come with that. (More on this later.)
2. The cost is always high.
Building on the first point, it is important to highlight that every time corrupt things are used with good or noble intentions, they warrant high cost.
Boromir’s language—albeit influenced by the desire for the Ring—is reckless: “we do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only the strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause.” Surely, the clouding of his vision by the Ring removes sensibility from his mind. The One Ring is absolute power—which corrupts absolutely.
Perhaps it could be used against the evil powers of the age to thwart their influence; it would be a poetic sort of justice. But it would come at the cost of soul-rot.
Its user would wither away into a deep, dark obsession—thoroughly convinced that all that is needful is found in the ever-cool Ring. He would fall so deeply into knowledge and obsession of the Ring, no other means of justice or rightness would seem plausible.
In the political world—especially the current American political climate—it seems that to have significant influence on long-lasting political change, one must adhere to a certain agenda (for lack of a less baggage-heavy word). President Joe Biden was once conservative in the belief that marriage should be between one man and one woman; yet now, he openly supports the LGBTQ+ Community’s right to marriage and protections therein.7 (Of course, many other factors influenced his change of heart. Nevertheless, his newfound support aided his political campaigns immensely.)
Therefore, it may seem hopeless to stand in opposition to the most relevant and highly supported issues of the current era. Fear of rejection, failure, or the impending loss of respect and honor among one and his family is enough motivation to wield a corrupt power with good intentions—to think that it is the only way to bring about change. Use the Ring against the Ringbearers, and trust you are too good to be corrupted.
“Politics is the skill of compromise.”
The cost of plunging wholly into the use of the Ring (or politics) to bring about change is that eventually, it will become everything. It will consume everything. If one is to wield politics for good in this age—and indeed they must—may they not let it become their only tool in the struggle for good. A professor in my undergraduate Theology & Politics class uttered something profound: “politics is the skill of compromise.” (He would also substitute “skill” for “art” to further convey his point.) Indeed, involvement in politics often beckons the good-faith politician to play by the sly game’s rules. Such a call must be resisted. There must be another way.
3. Don’t play “the game” by the same rules.
One of the most startling and refreshing things about The Lord of the Rings is that, comparatively, Frodo rarely uses the Ring for himself. He wears it around his neck for safe keeping and refuses to let most people even catch a glimpse of it. In times of danger (granted, more-so as the series continues) he uses the Ring as a last resort. When he fears Boromir will take the Ring for himself following the above quote, he uses it to escape Boromir’s hand. But Frodo never seeks to use it to its full potential.
Frodo trusts Gandalf’s warnings and the cautionary tale of Gollum enough to see that using the Ring is not worth the decay that will follow.
Instead of wielding it constantly and drawing on the power it contains, Frodo uses it like an as-needed prescription: it’s his last resort, but his goal is to rely on natural things, not the “good” with myriad negative side effects. He does not desire—though the Ring calls to him—to take it for himself and abandon the Company or his friends. As an oddly resilient Hobbit with good in his heart, his desire is that the world be rid of such evil. He has learned—often through difficult lessons—that to bring about good, the Ring must be rendered useless.
Real change happens in the Company. Community is where life-on-life growth springs forth.
So, too, Christians in the political world must see that politics is some sort of medicine for the ages, but it ultimately has myriad negative side effects. Indeed, God ordained civil government to bind evil and promote good (Rom. 13:1–3). Yet, the empires of our age rarely seek to promote the good that the Bible contends for. Instead, they are “fearless, ruthless,”8 in their pursuit and campaign for self-interest. Christians cannot heed Boromir’s advice in good faith. They may be fearless, but in a different manner than the Ring has convinced him to speak of. They must be ruthless, but not in heartless self-preservation; rather they must be ruthless in their love and care for their community. Perhaps the American government has largely turned from Christian values, toward self-indulging, sexuality-centric values at the rejection of God.
Christians must be involved in politics. Especially in this age, everything is political.9 Yet they will inevitably become noticeable against the backdrop of a large population of politicians who play by the same rules. The Christian engaged in politics should do so differently than the non-Christian, for they are “not conformed to this world, but [are] transformed by the renewal of [their] minds” (Rom. 12:2). Nonconformity to the ways of this world—namely its evils—is a mandate for the Christian.
To wield the Ring the way Boromir intended would be to idolize the power it contained over the forces for good that were cultivated in the Company.
Conclusion
I set out on the task of writing this long-form essay after re-reading The Fellowship of the Ring—the perfect first book of the year. As previously stated, I am no Tolkien scholar; I do not mean to adapt the story’s message to my own purposes, but rather to contextualize it to the theological-political landscape that has so quickly become common, especially in the last few years.
This essay is simply a collection of musings on the timeless impact that The Lord of the Rings has on many facets of life and scholarship, and my goal was to draw some sort of political lesson from the somewhat brief conversation Boromir had with Frodo.
If you have read this far, thank you. If you enjoyed this, please let me know! (Or let me know if you hated it, but try to be civil.)
The story of Boromir and Frodo in The Fellowship of the Ring is a stark reminder that people must remember the evils of this world. Assuredly, as we live in a sin-stained existence, fallen institutions like the government may be wielded for good—but to do so comes at a cost. Politics should be done in a way that mitigates between the fallenness of mankind and the return of Jesus Christ, the true King.
In the meantime, heed the tale of Boromir: don’t let fear of failure, the future, and the powers that be drive to using evil means for good. Heed the example of Frodo: as the world descends into chaos, bear with a loose grip the tools afforded to you. Use them, knowing one day they will be useless. Don’t rely on politics to bring about change. It’s a feeble (though influential) institution.
Real change happens in the Company. Community is where life-on-life support, encouragement, and good-bringing springs forth. Change the system if you can, but learn to work for the good of humanity without it.
R.E. Parrish Comics, “Tolkien vs. Lewis: Allegories,” Comics by R.E. Parrish: Photo. Accessed January 17, 2023. https://reparrishcomics.com/image/618585931338874880
It is widely contended that The Two Towers contains blatant messaging about the rise of military industrialization, namely Sauron and Saruman’s use of war machines at the mass destruction of nature and its creatures. For more on this, see Dickerson and Evans, Ents, Elves, and Eriador: The Environmental Vision of J.R.R. Tolkien, (Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky, 2006), 200.
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, 50th Anniversary ed., (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1994), 398.
Bradley J. Birzer, J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-earth, (Wilmington, DE: ISI Books, 2002), 90.
Cited in Birzer, Sanctifying Myth, 90, emphasis added.
For clarification, this paragraph is used as an example of the mindset that many on the political Left or Right may possess. Such conspiracy theories as “the 2020 Election was ‘stolen’” are not under question for legitimacy in this essay, but the mindset born from those theories adds fuel to the fire of fearfulness in America.
Joe Biden’s trajectory regarding same-sex marriage has been a long-running issue since the 1990s. Whereas he originally voted in support of the Defense for Marriage Act in 1996, he later changed his perspective to include that same-sex marriage was a civil right. See Adam Nagourney and Thomas Kaplan, “Behind Hoe Biden’s Evolution on L.G.B.T.Q. Rights,” New York Times. Accessed January 26, 2023. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/21/us/politics/biden-gay-rights-lgbt.html
Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, 398.
Indeed, the very question of when life begins is politically-influenced. The fight for abortion rights in America sparked when Margaret Sanger politicized the question of a woman’s legal privacy—not so much the morality of killing a living unborn baby. See Jill Lepore, “The Politicization of Birth Control and Abortion,” NPR. Accessed January 26, 2023. https://www.npr.org/2011/11/09/142097521/how-birth-control-and-abortion-became-politicized