Justice and Pity
A Reflection on Lord of the Rings
So… it’s been a little while since I’ve written anything for my substack. That’s mostly because I’m not sure what I want the future of this substack to be. Last summer, I was able to post a couple of times a week, and while I’m on vacation right now, I could probably get back into that kind of rhythm. The problem is, I can’t sustain that during the school year or when I’m working on a new long-form project (as I am right now, writing a story currently called Project Hawthorn, it’s kind of a fantasy murder mystery story). So, while I do some soul searching about the future of this substack, please enjoy my latest piece for Inland Catholic Magazine.
“‘Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.’”
Towards the beginning of the Fellowship of the Ring Frodo learns that the evil creature Gollum, the one from whom Bilbo got the one ring, has told the Dark Lord that the ring can be found in possession of a hobbit named Baggins in a place called the Shire. Frodo bemoans this fact, saying, “‘What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature when he had a chance!’” Gandalf replies, “‘Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity and Mercy.’” Gandalf does not deny that Gollum deserves death, that it would be just for Bilbo or someone to have slain Gollum, but justice isn’t the only virtue at work here, so is pity.
It’s a strange word, pity. Today we think of it primarily as having a negative connotation. We don’t want to be pitied. It’s pathetic to be pitied. I think of the big ghost in Lewis’s The Great Divorce, he doesn’t want any “bleedin’ charity,” charity being used by him to mean pity. No, we want, or we claim we want what is just. But do we? I think not. No, justice would demand more of us than I think most of us are willing to give. Justice is a demand for right order, for giving to each what is their due. But there are many who think they would prefer it to pity. Pity means being condescended to. Pity means someone is, or at least thinks they are, superior to me. But let’s return to Frodo and Gollum.
As the story continues the two finally meet and Frodo finds he does pity Gollum. Gollum, who has sold him out to Sauron already. Gollum, who was on his way to throttle both Frodo and Sam. Gollum, who will later betray them to the giant spider-like creature Shelob and then the One Ring off of Frodo’s hand. This Gollum Frodo shows pity to. And here’s the thing, it almost serves to save J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 58.
Gollum. Slowly he ceases to talk only to himself, he starts to call himself by his true name, Smeagol. There’s even a scene where the narrator tells us that Gollum seems to be caressing Frodo, like an elderly hobbit might its child. Unfortunately, some might say, Sam wakes, sees Gollum “pawing at master” and yells at him. Some might be inclined to blame Sam here. Perhaps if Sam hadn’t woken up and yelled at Gollum, things would have been different. Of course, this ignores two important facts. First, Sam apologizes and it seems sincere. Second, Gollum was already arranging their deaths with Shelob. But back to pity and justice.
The word pity comes to us from the Greek word pathos which means feeling or even suffering. It gives us the Latin word passio, from which we get the word passion, both as meaning a strong emotion or desire and as meaning great suffering, like our Lord’s Passion. To be compassionate or sympathetic, for instance, means to suffer with someone. To have empathy means to understand another’s suffering. Frodo, when he meets Gollum, is able to pity or have empathy for Gollum. He understands that his suffering has been great. He understands that this suffering is, initially, of Gollum’s own making. He chose to murder Deagol and steal the ring for himself. But Frodo has seen how the Ring has corrupted Boromir, how it might corrupt the others, so when he meets the living incarnation of the Ring’s corrupting power in Gollum, he has a desire to show mercy, not to do what is unqualifiedly just, which is to kill Gollum at their first chance.
But late, Frodo begins to have compassion for Smeagol. He suffers with him, quite literally. He bears the ring and it slowly begins to work on him. Its will exerts its influence on him the closer he gets to Mordor, to Sauron its maker. This is why when Frodo arrives at Mount Doom he claims the ring for himself. Tolkien, in a letter, says he does not see this as a moral failure on Frodo’s part. He went as far as any mortal or created immortal could have gone. Frodo understands Gollum in a way no other character can, because of pity.
But what has all of this to do with justice? In the end of the book, as noted above, Frodo fails. He does not cast the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. But it does fall into the fires. Gollum, having sneaked up on Frodo and Sam, manages to find the invisible Frodo, grapples with him, and bites the One Ring off of Frodo’s finger. Then in his perverted joy, he dances to his own destruction. Justice is served, but not at Frodo’s hand. It reminds me of David before he was king, unwilling to slay Saul the Lord’s anointed. After all, “vengeance is mine, thus saith the Lord.” Providence oversees justice at the end of The Lord of the Rings.
This doesn’t mean that there is no place for human justice in this life. That certainly isn’t the story Tolkien is telling. I could point to numerous examples of justice being served, but they are often tinged with mercy or pity. Theoden allows Grima Wormtongue to flee to his true master; Faramir does not have Gollum immediately killed for going into the forbidden pool; Aragorn has those taken prisoner work to undo the ill they have done, but does not have them killed (Theoden does the same with those captured after the battle at Helm’s Deep). We must be just, we must give to each what is their due, we must ensure that we and the world we live in are rightly ordered. But, when we deal with those outside ourselves, those whose motivations we can never clearly or perfectly know, then we ought to mix in mercy. After all, this is what God has done for us. Justice demands our damnation, but he has worked out a way for us to be saved, to be redeemed. As the psalmist says (remembering that the Greek and Hebrew words for righteousness and justice are the same), “righteousness and peace will kiss each other.”