Missing the point

David Brin, whose works have never sounded all that interesting to me in the first place, sounds off against Tolkien, and his Lord of the Rings, as Romantic, racist, Naziesque, anti-Enlightenment fables.

For example:

Let’s not ignore but instead openly acknowledge the underlying racism and belief in aristocracy that J.R.R. Tolkien wove into the books, without even much attempt at subtlety. Nor do I much blame him. He couldn’t help it, coming from the imperialist and class-ridden culture that raised him.

Poor Tolkien — trapped by his culture, what could he do but crank out myths that celebrate good, and nobility, and personal sacrifice?

By the turn of the century, Romanticism was fast losing all vestige of its initial empathy for the concerns of common folk. One solitary artist — or entertainer or lost prince or angry poet — loomed larger in importance, by far, than a thousand craft workers, teachers or engineers (a value system shared today by the mythic engine of Hollywood). Just as in Homer’s time, 10,000 foot soldiers mattered less than Achilles’ heel.

Hence, of course, Tolkien’s utter disregard for the common folk of the Shire.

Never mind that books with 10,000 characters rarely make good reading.

This fits the very plot of “Lord of the Rings,” in which the good guys strive to preserve and restore as much as they can of an older, graceful and “natural” hierarchy, against the disturbing, quasi-industrial and vaguely technological ambience of Mordor, with its smokestack imagery and manufactured power rings that can be used by anybody, not just an elite few. (Recall the scene where Saruman turns away from the “good” side and immediately starts ripping up trees, replacing them with mining pits and smoky forges. The anti-industrial imagery could not be more explicit.)

Yeah, because we should all embrace chopping down the forests to build “dark Satanic mills.” Saruman’s crime (and that of Sauron’s forces) is not that they are against the Old Order per se, or that they are clever, but that they let their own dark passions override their judgment, that they take from others, that they destroy without need, just for the sake of imposing their will on the world.

Of course, it’s not just Saruman who’s in that boat. The dwarves built mighty Moria, but let their greed get the better of them and went too far. The elvish smiths who forged the rings let their love of novelty and exercise of their abilities blind them to their exploitation by Sauron.

While Tolkien clearly is nostalgic, he’s not setting himself up as a defender of the Old against the evil of Change. His characters acknowledge change is inevitable, perhaps even good, even though it brings pain. It is becoming the Time of Men, the Fourth Age. The Elves aren’t fighting to keep Men down; indeed, both Elrond and Galadriel know that the destruction of the One Ring will bring about their own devastation, yet that is the course they take — acknowledging that change is inevitable, and what we must eventually do is work to make sure that it is a change that brings the best of the Old into the world that is New.

Consider the rings. Those man-made wonders are deemed cursed, damning anyone who dares to use them, especially those nine normal humans who tried to rise up, using tools to equalize and then usurp the rightful powers of their betters — the High Elves.

Um, the rings were actually of Elvish make, but, besides that, there’s no indication that the Human kings (or their Dwarvish counterparts) were seeking to parity with the Elves — especially since the Elves were also prey to the One Ring.

It goes on like this, a much more scholarly rendition of the same twaddle that others put forth when the first movie came up. Not only does Brin simply reject the conventions of myth as being inherently wrong (has he read any Joseph Campbell), but doesn’t even get his facts right half the time.

Of course, he tries to have it both ways, too, claming that Tolkien is an incurable Romantic, but also claiming that he condemned unabashed Romanticism.

In several places, Tolkien openly stated his authorial judgment that the elves who made the Three Rings were ultimately to blame, having set the stage for tragedy in Middle Earth. They made their own rings (preceding Sauron’s One Ring) in order to control the world, stopping time and preventing change, forbidding anything to die and decay and thus blocking the potential for new growth. In an oft-quoted letter, Tolkien wrote:
“They wanted to have their cake and eat it: to live in the mortal historical Middle Earth because they had become fond of it … and so tried to stop its change and history, stop its growth, keep it as a pleasaunce.”

Finally, Brin tries to deconstruct the myth by imagining the whole story from the point of view of the losers.

Now ponder something that comes through even the party-line demonization of a crushed enemy — this clear-cut and undeniable fact: Sauron’s army was the one that included every species and race on Middle Earth, including all the despised colors of humanity, and all the lower classes.
Hmm. Did they all leave their homes and march to war thinking, “Oh, goody, let’s go serve an evil Dark Lord”?
Or might they instead have thought they were the “good guys,” with a justifiable grievance worth fighting for, rebelling against an ancient, rigid, pyramid-shaped, feudal hierarchy topped by invader-alien elfs and their Numenorean-colonialist human lackeys?

As a thought exercise — well, it’s kind of dippy, even as a thought exercise. First, it’s myth. You might as well reconsider the Greek myths from the position of the Titans. Sure, you can do it — but that’s not the story being told. Tolkien discusses the motivations of the various elements of Sauron’s army, some. Despoiling of the beautiful, for some. For others, a search for power, or riches. These are not just Romantic conceits — many’s the army that’s marched for just that reason.

Brin sums it all up by praising the Enlightenment for overthrowing the kings and lords and secret holders of wisdom. And there’s something to be said for that. And he appeals toward the future being the golden age, not the past, and there’s something to be said for that, too.

But, ultimately, The Lord of the Rings is not about worship of the past, or the framing of elites as the protectors of all that is good. It’s about appreciation for the past, but recognition of change, of personal sacrifice for something greater. It’s about heroism, among the great and small, and about passion that can both elevate and destroy.

As I said, I’ve never read any of Brin’s fiction. This doesn’t make me think I’ve erred all that much in not doing so.

(via ToaFD)