superwizard wrote:But he did have some interest. Now you may not like to hear this but the truth is part of the reason he proposed to take the ring to Mordor was to keep the ring himself. Had he not volunteered someone else would have taken the Ring and I am pretty sure Frodo would not have wanted to part with the Ring.
Well, the point is that he has no choice in the matter!!!!
Because once you take on ownership of the Ring ... THE RING OWNS YOU.
As with Isildur.
As with Gollum.
As with Bilbo.
As with Frodo.
But, as Gandalf tells Frodo (paraphrasing here) "Bilbo was meant to find the Ring and you were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought."
By the time Frodo agrees to take the Ring to Mordor, he doesn't have the will to throw it away. He can't even bring himself to throw it in the fire. Gandalf sees clearly that the wheels of Providence are turning. Frodo is the servant of Providence. The path is set.
And, frankly, if Gandalf - the Valar's rep in the Third Age - doesn't believe that, he is a callous whatsit of the first order for allowing Frodo to go ahead with this horribly doomed quest. The stakes are high: the fate of Middle-earth is at stake here.
But I have a higher opinion of Gandalf than that, and I believe that he detects the hand of Eru behind all this.
"Frodo undertook his quest out of love - to save the world he knew from disaster at his own expense, if he could ... " Letter no. 246, The Collected Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien Avatar by goldlighticons on Live Journal
Regardless of what he wanted or thought of the Quest, I'm pretty sure Frodo was completely reluctant to take it on, because of plain fear and trepidation. He had suspected all along that the story would have a bad ending....but agreeing to go to Mount Doom to destroy the Ring is a colosally bad idea.
One of Sam's temptations is to just lay down and die (w/ Mr. Frodo, of course) while they are in Mordor. That is what he wanted, that was the selfish desire. Stubbornly keeping on was the selfless desire, because you didn't get the death you chose. The decision to leave Frodo at Cirith Ungol for the sake of the Quest was likely the hardest thing Sam ever did (not unlike Bilbo screwing up his courage to face the dragon the first time).
Teremia: If it's "self interest" to carry the Ring to Mt. Doom because you happen to love the world you're trying to save, then it seems to me nothing could ever qualify as true altruism. Perhaps that's your point, Jn? But then that becomes a little bleak, at least to my mind. Could we think of it as a little bit selfless, anyway, and just blur our eyes to the long-term benefits?
I'm not much of a softie.
When I hear the word 'altruism' I automatically think of the biological definition, where there is definitely a quid pro quo involved ...
but generally I tend not to think of 'selflessness' as the opposite of 'self-interest,' which is not necessarily selfish interest.
I would leap into a fire to save my children or grandchildren but not out of pure selflessness; rather because I could not bear in my heart to see them harmed without taking action to stop it. There is a biological explanation for this, of course -- a form of altruism called 'kin selection' -- and I suspect it would feel pretty instinctual while I was doing it.
But we make other kinds of sacrifices for our children that require premeditated sacrifice, and parents differ widely in their willingness to make such sacrifices. So I don't think it is a bad thing for me to say that I derive even more pleasure from my children's successes than I do from my own, and for that reason I am willing to sacrifice a lot to help smooth the road for their future.
I'm not sure that long-term versus short-term self-interest is the right distinction for all such decisions. I think it was the correct frame for the question that TED was asking - why do we do good in general. Because in general the bad things we do come back to bite us on the butt. But my joy in my children is immediate, and when I have to make sacrifices on their behalf it is more by way of maintaining an ongoing gratification than deferring a gratification to the future.
What I feel for my children can be extended then to my neighbors, my country, my co-religionists, or whatever group to which I belong. If a threat is imminent, then I am likely to commit acts which can be called selfless but are really more an expression of a deeper, longer-lasting self that does not want to lose things that are of greater importance to me than my own personal and immediate comfort.
I think that when we talk about selflessness we are not necessarily talking about an absence of self-caring but about that quality that allows people to see that their own self-realization is bound up with the self-realization of others; that we can't truly be good to ourselves by neglecting the needs of others that are intertwined with our own.
Frodo was far-sighted enough to understand that if he sat still or hid out in the Shire, eventually everything he loved would be destroyed along with himself. And Sam was self-aware enough to know that he would be miserable if Frodo made the journey alone and he did not do his part as well. But there were plenty of others in the Shire who would not have made that sacrifice, who would have made a deal with Sauron to feather their own beds, or who would have run away. So I don't think that saying that Frodo and Sam recognized those mutual bonds and necessities in any diminishes the task they undertook.
Jn
edit: belated correction of a typo
Last edited by Jnyusa on Sat May 06, 2006 7:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
It's just a question of interpretation and outlook on the world. There's one philosophical system (going back to Mandeville arguing against the philosophies of benevolence of his time, I think) that says as soon as you derive any pleasure or satisfaction from having done something for others, it's not selfless anymore, and that actions done for the preservation of your folk's life and living conditions are merely instinctive responses in the urge for survival. I just don't see it that way.
I agree with Pearl and vison, and Teremia, too, because I do think that altruism exists.
As to who's the real hero, I agree with the "Frodo and Sam together" interpretation.
However, I somehow think that Frodo's motivation is "greater", although I understand how Sam's can be seen as more endearing.
Frodo made a sacrifice for an abstract concept, really - he doesn't even always like the Shire, he sees all its faults, but he still is ready to give his life for its preservation.
Sam's is a very personal love - he wouldn't have made the sacrifice of anyone else.
So, while I admire Sam for having such unconditional love for a person, I admire Frodo even more for giving his life for something he had his doubts about and whose imperfections he was aware of.
but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed hope, as long as despair could be postponed.
I think that Pearly Di's signature text (which she has had since long before this thread started), says it all:
"Frodo undertook his quest out of love - to save the world he knew from disaster at his own expense, if he could ... " Letter no. 246
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
Yes, exactly! It was love....and that is the highest motive possible. Love, by definition, focuses on another, not on ourselves. Sure, love is rewarding - we get something out of it. But so what? What's wrong with people being happy and satisfied? Is it better (ie, more noble) to do something and be gloomy and not get anything out of it? That just seems silly. To me, it is greater to make a terrible sacrifice, and yet be happy about it. At least, that's harder....
In a story I wrote,
I compare Frodo's love for the Shire with other forms of sacrificial love. For instance, this poem, written by St. John of the Cross:
I will go seek my [love]
and take upon myself
her weariness and labors
in which she suffers so;
and that she may have life
I will die for her,
And, lifting her out of that deep,
I will restore her to you.
The original word was 'bride', but I like 'love' better, so I changed it And actually, the original was written in 16th-century Spanish, so this is a translation, anyway.
Anyway, in this fragment of poem, the idea of giving of yourself for someone else is pretty clearly articulated. I could see Frodo having similar thoughts/feelings about the Shire (especially after he came back!)
Yes, it was his own love - he wasn't doing it just 'to be a good person' - but I think that love is a much stronger motivator. You aren't going to drag yourself through the gasping dust of Mordor just because 'you really ought to.' Love is what makes the ideals worthwhile - otherwise they are cold and dry and meaningless.
truehobbit wrote:So, while I admire Sam for having such unconditional love for a person, I admire Frodo even more for giving his life for something he had his doubts about and whose imperfections he was aware of.
Very nice truehobbit! I never saw it that way. It is true that Sam never saw anything wrong about Frodo (which really reflects his personality). Also if you notice in the book nobody praises Frodo alone Aragorn says:
Frodo believed, when he started the quest, that as hopeless as it might seem, not starting it was ultimately even MORE hopeless. If he went, the Shire might be saved, although he had no idea of what his own fate would be (early on at least). If he stayed, both he and the Shire were doomed.
It wasn't much of a choice, really. But a lot of people would have gone into denial and screwed it up anyway. The first step into heroism is the insight that a problem is real and won't go away on its own.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
The first time I read LOTR I had, of course, no notion of what would happen when Frodo got to the Cracks of Doom. The closer we got, the more certain I became that there was going to be only one possible ending: that somehow, by some agency or another, Frodo and the Ring would go into the Fire together. I visualized him simply jumping, I thought maybe Sauron would come out and dive on him and they would go in together, and I thought maybe Gollum would have got the Ring away from him by then and that somehow, fighting Gollum to get it back, Frodo and/or Gollum would wind up doing the long fall.
I pretty much understood that Frodo wasn't going to be able to just toss the Ring in. It seemed most likely that he would jump in with the Ring on. I didn't foresee the actual event, which was much more dramatic and powerful than anything I could come up with and showed, if nothing else had, that Tolkien had a much better understanding of his characters than I did. I remember very clearly, after over 40 years, the chill of reading it, the shiver that passed over me, and a kind of anger! I more or less remember why I was angry, I guess I thought Tolkien had wimped out on the hero front and made Frodo turn bad: Frodo claiming the Ring for his own in that way really shocked me.
Repeated readings and decades of thinking about Frodo and several years of heated discussion about LOTR on various messageboards haven't quite erased that initial shock and anger. You'd think it would have. But no matter how I feel about the ending, I have always been sure of Frodo's motive. Frodo did what we all would do, he took upon himself the pain for the sake of those he loved.
If we are not sure of our "self", if there is no "self-love" to begin with, then what part of us could make us love anything or anyone else? When you love someone, you are recognizing in them SOMETHING that you value, that is precious to you. Such a recognition is necessary and right, we cannot love what does not appeal to our inner being, that does not offer some satisfaction or pleasure or merely the sense of duty fulfilled. (A special kind of pleasure much neglected in these latter days . . . .she said, shaking her grey head sadly . . .)
When this healthy self-love is absent, then our relationships with others, and with the "outside world" are utterly flawed, poisonous, dysfunctional. It is difficult for me to articulate this plainly, especially today, what with one thing and another, but it is very important to me that I try.
Of course, Frodo is haunted by guilt for his lack of will to destroy the Ring at the crucial moment. Part of the price he pays.
Tolkien makes it clear that he did not regard Frodo's as a moral failure.
"Frodo undertook his quest out of love - to save the world he knew from disaster at his own expense, if he could ... " Letter no. 246, The Collected Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien Avatar by goldlighticons on Live Journal
If we are not sure of our "self", if there is no "self-love" to begin with, then what part of us could make us love anything or anyone else? When you love someone, you are recognizing in them SOMETHING that you value, that is precious to you. Such a recognition is necessary and right, we cannot love what does not appeal to our inner being, that does not offer some satisfaction or pleasure or merely the sense of duty fulfilled.
I would not say "merely" at the end there.
There was certainly a point at which Frodo could not have given up the Ring, probably very soon after he offered it to Galadriel. And Gandalf certainly knew that he would get to that point. The trick was finding someone both capable of getting to that point and THEN capable of resisting the pull of the thing the rest of the way. Someone willing to address the problem in the first place instead of denying it, as I noted earlier, and then willing to risk themselves on behalf of their community (and initially those MUST have been the stakes Frodo was thinking about--the Shire was endangered, plus all those other places in the world he had only read about). But the heroic qualities required to set out on the quest were not the same as that required to complete it. Willingness to sacrifice oneself became willingness to endure, to survive and to continue even when death would have been preferable in many ways.
Thinking further about vison's post...One of the things the Ring did is to insinuate itself into the psyche of bearer, eroding that sense of self vison mentions and replacing it with...something else, the hollow temptation to power and the scratching of a deep and eternal itch combined. It happened to Frodo and Gollum in two different ways because of their circumstances: Frodo had the Ring a bare fraction of the time that Gollum did, but he took it to Mordor, to Mt. Doom, with Sauron active and seeking it. However, in both cases, the result was the same: at the termination of the process the Ring had substituted itself for their normal sense of self. Gollum had lost the ability even to refer to himself as himself, and Frodo was "naked in the dark," seeing the wheel of fire "even with my waking eyes, and all else fades." At the Sammath Naur, all either could feel, and virtually all they could see or hear, was the need for the Ring, because the ring bent all their perceptions and thoughts back upon itself.
For just about everyone else in Middle-earth, that state would have been reached much earlier, and the quest would have failed. It is precisely because Frodo had such a strong sense of self, of identity, that he could function at all so long as he did. That sense was grounded, though, in his essential hobbitness and his love for the Shire, and so it was annealed with a sense of being part of something larger than himself, something worth saving at any cost. Had he been less self-assured, or more self-centered, he could not have succeeded.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
Thanks. But you all are the ones that made me stop to think about it.
I almost feel like I'm back in grad school.
Now on to the real question: the roots of Sam's personal loyalty to and love for Frodo, which is (I'm pretty sure) unarguably the visible motive for Sam's actions. I can't ignore the social context as the starting point here, that is, the fact that Sam is Frodo's servant in a society where there is a weight of responsibility to that word. But I also think it goes beyond that, pretty clearly. JRRT wants us to see Sam as exceptional, does he not?
Yes axordil I believe that Sam was supposed to be very special. It is true that Sam initially goes because Gandalf ordered him and to 'see elves' but his motives change after his night at woodhall (I believe it is called). After that he 'had to do something before the end.
It had always been a notion of his that the kindness of dear Mr. Frodo was of such a high degree that it must imply a fair measure of blindness. Of course, he also firmly held the incompatible belief that Mr. Frodo was the wisest person in the world...
I believe that this paragraph shows how faithful Sam was to Mr. Frodo. His complete faith in Frodo's decision is the reason I suspect that he allowed Gollum to lead them on or accepted to go to Cirith Ungol. Sam never forgot his place frequently if not always calling him Mr. or Master Frodo. He also says to Faramir:
"Don't you go taking advantage of my master because his servant's no better than a fool.
Had Merry or Pippin gone with Frodo there would naturally have been quarrels especially as they neared the end of the quest. They were Frodo's equals and would not hesitate to speak their mind unlike Sam who would not consider it 'his place'. But of course Sam's loyalty would not have been enough at the end ,no one's would. It was Sam's love for Frodo that helped carry him up Mount Doom and give him most of the food and water. So at the end it was love that saved the day.
I asked the thread starting question because by instinct I felt that reducing the motivation of every choice to some type of self-interest was wrong. I don’t think self-interest is bad motive. I believe it does not describe the full range of human motives.
If I had thought more carefully about it, I might have chosen a different decision from LOTR to use in my question. It is not that I now believe Frodo’s decision to carry the ring to Morder is motivated by self-interest. No, certainly not! I think the reasoning to validly carry off the argument in favor of self-interest is too tortured, and may end up redefining self-interest. For example, I think it is incorrect to assign a motive such as love to a broader category of self-interest.
The problem with my question is in the premise. By asking for the motive of this decision, I assume that Frodo in fact makes this decision. I realize now, after reading several posts and thinking about it at great length, that Frodo does not make the decision that I implicitly say he makes in my question.
Axordil was the first to address my question, and he yet he does not answer it, for as written it is unanswerable. Ax answers a different question, that I would put this way:
Why does Frodo choose to take the ring to Mordor?
Here is my original question:
What did his choice to bear the ring and not claim it have to do with any sort of self-interest, long or short term?
I have bolded the portion that contains the false premise. Frodo did not choose to bear the ring. He never makes this choice. Indeed, I would suggest that only a monster would choose to take the ring and bear it knowing in full what it is.
Pearly Di comes right to the point in post 21:
Well, the point is that he has no choice in the matter!!!!
Because once you take on ownership of the Ring ... THE RING OWNS YOU.
An empty offer
Post 34 by Axordil is a great post, among many other great posts. ( This is the one everyone else complimented. ) I mostly agree with the last two paragraphs, and I disagree with part of the first long paragraph.
I believe that Frodo could not have given up the ring from the day it came into his possession. The only exception I would make for this is the “exception of Bilbo”, so named for the one instance in which someone did willingly give up the ring. If Gandalf had asked Frodo to give up the ring, and applied all his friendship and and persuasion, then Frodo may have given it up. But the “exception of Bilbo” would not be possible once Sauron’s power started to grow, and the ring became weightier, figuratively.
Offering and giving are not the same thing! Frodo offers the ring to both Gandalf and Galadriel because he believes they are wiser, worthier bearers than he. They are not worthier! Nor could Frodo have forced himself to give either the ring if the offer had been accepted. His body would have rebelled against the act, just as it did when he tried to throw it into his little fire back at Bag End. His mind would have been full of sudden suspicion and fear when he saw the outstretched hand grapsing for his ring.
The ring comes to Frodo, by chance or design. He does not choose to take it, nor can he choose to be free of it. Frodo can only choose what to do while he bears it.
One choice for Frodo
There is only one choice when it comes to the ring, and this is the second part of my orginal question:
What did his choice to bear the ring and not claim it have to do with any sort of self-interest, long or short term?
To understand the motives of Frodo, we must understand the true nature of the choices he makes. And the choice he makes, over and over again, until he stands at the edge of the fire, is that he will not claim the ring as his own, even as he it fated to bear it.
Here is a list of some of the important choices Frodo makes while bearing the ring:
1. He flees the Shire for Rivendell.
2. He flees Rivendell for Mordor.
3. He does not leave Sméagol to die.
4. He claims the ring at the edge of the fire.
Facing the danger
Most people in this thread have addressed decisions 1 and 2, which are very similar in nature. Axordil has the keen insight into the truth behind these decisions:
The first step into heroism is the insight that a problem is real and won't go away on its own.
There are many ways to claim the ring. The easiest way is to not acknowledge what it is. This is the path of comforting self-deceit, of telling oneself that the ring can be given up at any time, that’s it is simply a useful and beautiful thing, and no peril attaches to its use. This is the way Gollum claims the ring. This is the way Bilbo claims the ring, though he never goes as far as Gollum, and so he is able to give it up in a moment of strength and love sparked by Gandalf. Frodo veers perilously close to this path when he dithers in the Shire and does not set out for Rivendell as soon as he should.
I do not mean this as a criticism of Frodo. Or of Bilbo! Bilbo did not know what the ring really was, while Frodo only had Gandalf’s words to guide him. It took the experience of the black riders for Frodo to truly understand what it meant to bear the ring, and to understand the choices he faced.
At Rivendell, Frodo had two paths to choose from. To stay in the stronghold, safe until the end, or to set out on the hopeless quest. He could not choose to give the ring to someone else to take.
Frodo chooses the hopeless quest.
Is courage a sort of long-term self-interest? Jn, I think, implicitly argues it is in post 6 of this thread. Courage is action in the face of fear and peril, motivated by love. That is my definition. It is possible to argue love is a form of long-term self-interest, I suppose. I think vison has the best answer, one which erases the need to pit love and self-interest against each other:
Frodo acted out of Love: he valued what he loved as he valued himself.
The right thing to do
I do not think Frodo’s motives for going to Mordor are selfless or sacrificial. I dislike these idea that these are the highest motives. My question was not meant to imply that Frodo was self-sacrificial. I think Frodo’s motive was that it was the right thing to do.
That is a troublesome answer, I know. But that is exactly what I had in mind when I orginally asked the question in the other thread. Some decisions do not come down to self-interest. They are simply taken because they are the right choices.
And, in all cases, not claiming the ring is the right thing to do. It is also certainly in the long-term self-interest of the bearer, but to really see and understand this and have it be a motive requires a very keen wisdom on the part of the bearer. Frodo is wise, but I do not think he is that wise.
What about choice 3, which was the choice to not let Sméagol die? First, it must be made clear that Sam and Frodo could not have chosen to kill Sméagol. Not directly, immediately, in cold blood, blade against throat. Neither of them could have done this, not then. Sam could have killed Sméagol this way later, on the slopes of Mount Doom, because at that time Sméagol was a traitor who had attacked the hobbits multiple times, and Sam was inflamed with righteous anger. Sam choice to spare Sméagol then was real. But Sam could not have killed him in the Emyn Muil, even if it had seemed sensible to him. The only choices they had were to leave him tied up, to die later, out of sight and mind, or to take him with them, or to release him.
What sort of self interest, short or long-term, could there have been in sparing Sméagol’s life? No calculus of long-term self-interest at the time could have honestly included the possiblity of Sméagol aiding in the destruction of the ring much later. In any case, it is clear that Frodo spares his life simply because it is the right thing to do, right then. This is not a very satisfactory answer, is it?
But it is what it is. I think sometimes people choose a path simply because it is the right path to take. We may say, later on, that it turned out the right path was in the long-term self-interest, but this was not the motive in the mind at the time of the decision. This was my point in asking my question. Agree or not!
But there is something more. To kill Gollum indirectly by leaving him tied up would have been declare mastery over his life, and to claim the ring. He would then be claiming the ring through power. That is the harder way to claim the ring, and the more perilous. By this time Frodo understands that the only way he can continue to see value in himself and others is to not claim the ring. Or, to put it another way, not claiming the ring is a byproduct of seeing an inviolate value in others and oneself, and in the relationships possible. And so, against my own desire, we come back to self-interest. There can be no true self-interest of any kind when the ring is claimed.
The failure we all share
Last I come to decision 4, where Frodo finally claims the ring. Is it really fair to call this a decision?
It is not fair, but nevertheless it is a decision. There is every excuse for Frodo, as there often is for each of us, when we come to the crucial moment and fail. That does not change what it is.
I said earlier that Frodo can not give up the ring, ever. So if I concede that he could not have thrown the ring into the fire, where is Frodo's choice? Frodo could have thrown himself into the fire along with the ring, or he could have claimed its power.
Frodo is often called a symbolic Christ-figure. I disagree! Frodo is not Christ from the Christian story. He is us! He is the one saved by grace. But then who is Christ in LOTR? Well, no one. LOTR isn’t an allegory.
If Frodo had cast himself into the fire with the ring, as vison wished, then he would have been Christ. But he is just Frodo, a hobbit from the Shire.
Sam ...
I included Sam in the edited thread title, and I still want to write about him, but that will have to wait until later. For now, I wish to disagree with something superwizard said:
Sam was even braver. Sam did not really understand what was at stake when he went with Frodo,
That Sam does not understand makes it easier for him to be brave! He does not know how afraid he should be. Sam is brave. Frodo bears the ring, and he knows what darkness waits for him at the end of that chain, and so he is braver.
The stakes are high: the fate of Middle-earth is at stake here.
But my joy in my children is immediate, and when I have to make sacrifices on their behalf it is more by way of maintaining an ongoing gratification than deferring a gratification to the future.
And actually, the original was written in 16th-century Spanish, so this is a translation, anyway.
