Hope in Decline

Decline is something I find myself thinking a lot about these days, for obvious reasons as I gesture at the state of the world, at the state of America.

A few weeks ago, I saw The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers in theaters for its 25th anniversary. Having seen it so many times, I’m able to notice things the first time viewer will not. This time a major theme I picked up on was hope in decline. This must have occurred to me concerning Rohan: Eowyn’s despair turned hope at the arrival of Aragorn and Gandalf, and the despondency of those defending Helm’s Deep turned hope at the arrival of the war-hardened Lothlorien Elves (a great Peter Jackson addition; I literally caught myself internally cheering, “now that is a f***ing army!”)

I love the interpretations to this theme of hope in decline: despite the decline we’re in we maintain hope OR our hope is in decline (i.e., the collapse is near, we’re giving up, etc.). Reflecting upon it shortly after, I realized there’s another layer: faith in hope in decline. Again, there are diametrically opposed interpretations: we either maintain faith in the power of hope to prevail over the decline around us OR we let our faith in hope decline.

As I was thinking about turning this theme into this little essay, I realized there’s yet another interpretable layer: faith in hope in the end of decline. Do we maintain our faith in hope that decline will soon end and better times will take its place, or do we forsake hope, citing the decay all around us, and internalize the belief that the end is surely come?

This theme – hope in decline, for short – is all over The Lord of the Rings (as I briefly touch upon in my previous post, The Magic of the Song of Durin). With little exception, all that is good in Middle-earth is in decline: the Elves are leaving forever, Dwarves are few and scattered, and, as Elrond says in the movie version of The Fellowship of the Ring, Men are weak.

What separates the protagonists from the antagonists is how they treat hope. Our heroes maintain hope despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them while others lose their faith in hope and fall to betrayal. Let’s take a look. Beware: deep lore ahead.

The most famous example of maintaining faith in hope is personified by our beloved Samwise the Brave – of “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!” fame – who is often heralded as the real hero of The Lord of the Rings. Driven by love and loyalty to Frodo, the Shire, and Hope, he summons superhobbit resolve to persevere despite all the evil screaming at him to give up, lie down, and die.

Another example has a three thousand year payoff for the redemption of Man: Long before the main story, the followers of Elendil, who cherish and maintain their relationships with the Eldar and magic, are called the Faithful. About them, their home island of Numenor experiences long years of decline as its kings lust for power. Then, Numenor falls and the Faithful survive in Middle-earth, but fall again due to Sauron: Elendil is killed, his son Isildur succumbs to the corruption of the Ring, and the mighty kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor slip into three thousand years of decline until we reach the events of The War of the Ring. Aragorn, of the last remnants of the Faithful, inspires hope in those around him, leading them to victory and thereby vindicating the practice of maintaining faith in hope despite decline.

The heroes and protagonists of The Lord of the Rings exemplify the magic of maintaining faith in hope in the end of decline. Through this magic of maintaining hope, they create a whole greater than the sum of its parts: against all odds, the Ring is destroyed, the Kingdoms are reunited, and our protagonists win, relieving everyone from despair and restoring hope in a better future. Conversely, many of the antagonists of the story are defined by their forsaking of hope.

Saruman and Denethor are prime, and similar, examples of this. In their pride, each believe sheer power is necessary to contest the will of Sauron and thus dare to use their Palantiri. Both were wrong and both have their faith in hope, and their minds, broken. Sauron tricks them into thinking that resistance is futile, further corrupting their faith in hope into lust for power: Saruman falls, and by creating an army of his own to work in legion with Sauron, he forsakes his friends and his literal divine mission to support the free peoples of Middle-earth. Denethor’s lust for power is seen is his love of Boromir over Faramir, thus dooming Boromir to fall to the temptation of the Ring. With Boromir’s death, Denethor’s power-hope snaps completely, and he becomes convinced that there is nothing he can do to prevent the end of his people and kingdom and thus does nothing to prepare for war. As a result of their treachery to hope, both Saruman and Denethor decline into unrecognizable disfigurations of their former valiant selves, countless people die, and defeating Sauron becomes all the more unlikely.

There is one more layer to all this: Art versus Power. Hope is art, whereas power is delusion and corruption. For Aragorn and Sam, kindling hope in those around them was an artform: it required persistence and devotion. For Saruman and Denethor, they deluded themselves into believing they were powerful enough to dominate Sauron. Their reliance on and temptation by power was their downfall.

That is why we love The Lord of the Rings, because its themes and characters inspire us despite the darkest times suffocating us. They remind us we must maintain our faith in hope that greener times are near. If we lose this faith, Evil quickly invades and corrupts the soul, and we ourselves end up as the antagonists getting in the way of the faithful.