‘The Crownless Again Shall Be King’: The Conservative Heart of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Work

Since its publication in 1954, “The Lord of the Rings” has proven to be not only one of the most popular but one of the most influential literary works of the previous century. Despite its 70 years of popularity, the three-volume novel has become, over the past few weeks, the subject of some debate and contention. Since its author, the Oxford don J.R.R. Tolkien, was himself a conservative Christian, it is thus unsurprising that conservative Christians even today find much to admire and appreciate in “The Lord of the Rings.” However, once Ohio Senator J.D. Vance (R) was named the Republican vice presidential nominee last month, both Politico and The New York Times issued “think pieces” on Tolkien’s work, which Vance has said was influential over his own “conservative worldview.”

Politico and NYT implied (and even, at one explicated) that conservative Christians have “appropriated” Tolkien’s work. Never mind that the professor himself was a conservative Christian. Instead, the sages and intellectuals at the not-at-all-agenda-driven publications explained to us humble folk how Tolkien’s work ought to be read, regardless of what Tolkien himself actually wrote.

The chief argument against a conservative Christian understanding of “The Lord of the Rings” is proffered by NYT columnist David French, a self-declared “nerd” and longtime enjoyer of Tolkien’s work. “These days, however, Tolkien isn’t just relevant to nerd world. It feels strange to say this, but the proper interpretation of his work has geopolitical implications,” French wrote earlier this month. That much may be true:. Over the past century, Tolkien’s writings and uniquely expressed ideology have influenced academics, authors, historians, and even theologians, to say nothing of politicians.

Vance isn’t the only one with a love of “The Lord of the Rings.” Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni has been steeped in Tolkien’s literature from a young age and has also earned the ire of Politico and NYT for her conservative take on the goings-on of Middle-Earth. Poland’s former prime minister, Mateusz Morawiecki, is also a lover of Tolkien’s legendarium. In fact, Meloni and Morawiecki met last year at a Middle-Earth-themed café and pledged, “Together we’ll defeat Mordor.” The two conservative leaders discussed immigration control, anti-globalism, national sovereignty, and the “Christian values” of Europe — all considered today to be “far-right” interests.

So it just may be that Tolkien’s work, particularly the deeply Christian philosophy propounded in his tales of mythological warfare and global conflict, may have, as French put it, “geopolitical implications.” It is thus of great importance that Tolkien’s literature be understood properly.

One Ring to Rule Them All…

Trying to spin “The Lord of the Rings” as anything other than a conservative Christian piece of literature is not an easy task. In a letter to his publisher, Tolkien himself described the work as “fundamentally religious and Catholic…” And the professor made no secret of his more conservative ideological and political views. Tolkien boasted of neither understanding nor liking the modern world and its technological and ideological innovations. He treated driving a car somewhat like riding a horse into battle, not pausing at intersections but pressing his foot down on the accelerator and crying, “Charge them and they scatter!”

After the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council, Tolkien would often embarrass his grandchildren at Mass by insisting on shouting loudly in Latin. The professor eschewed what was considered “fashionable” clothing, with his only concession to style being brightly-colored (although rather old-fashioned) waistcoats worn under his drab grey and brown suits. When teaching a course on Beowulf, the typically-quiet don with a speech impediment would march into his classroom clad in a fur cape and hood, carrying a longsword, and bellowing the opening lines of the Saxon poem in its original Old English. He loathed French cooking, railed against modern pop and rock music (he especially hated The Beatles), and rejected all attempts to adapt his work to the big screen in his lifetime.

Wisely, then, French does not claim that Tolkien was not a conservative, nor does he dare argue that “The Lord of the Rings” is not Christian; one does not simply refute such a preponderance of evidence. Instead, French’s approach is a more nuanced, though an equally flawed, one. The main thrust of French’s argument is that “The Lord of the Rings” is an essentially anti-authoritarian book and cannot therefore be used as inspiration for any seeking a position of power or seeking to exercise power, even for the sake of good.

“Tolkien, in fact, was concerned with the way that good can become evil. He understood that even the best of people are vulnerable to the temptations of evil, and that that temptation is perhaps most powerful when we believe we are engaged in a fight against darkness,” French writes. “In a very real way, the will to power is the true enemy in Tolkien’s work. The identity of the villain … is less relevant than grasping after power. … Here’s where Tolkien’s Christian faith is most evident. We are to reject the will to power because our triumph does not depend on our strength,” French concludes. But this is only partly true. Sauron is evil not because he is powerful, nor even because he seeks power and kingship: he is evil because he seeks power that is not his.

Far from being anti-authoritarian, Tolkien’s work is, rather, properly authoritarian — that is, Tolkien recognizes that power is not “always morally wrong,” as French implies, but that power is meant to be subject to morality; its exercise outside of authority is what makes it evil. Certainly, Sauron is powerful, but then so is the good wizard Gandalf. In “The Two Towers,” the second volume of “The Lord of the Rings,” Gandalf addresses this very point. When the Dwarf Gimli fears entering Fangorn Forest, he conflates evil with being “dangerous,” much as French does. “Dangerous!” responds the wizard. “And so am I, very dangerous: more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord. And Aragorn is dangerous, and Legolas is dangerous. You are beset with dangers, Gimli son of Glóin; for you are dangerous yourself, in your own fashion.”

The wizard’s point is that power (or “dangerousness,” as it is expressed here) is not itself evil nor a cause for fear. After all, Gandalf is among the greatest powers to ever walk the face of Middle-Earth, but he is good to the core. Aragorn is a Man of the mighty race of Númenor, endowed with great might, honed to a deadly point in his long years as the leader of the Dúnedain Rangers. Théoden is also a mighty king, a noble warrior of terrible prowess. Elrond is a powerful Elven prince who fought against the Dark Lord Sauron at the Battle of Dagorlad. Yet all are good. Far from considering power or its exercise evil, Tolkien in fact considers power a prerequisite for heroism.

What then of seeking power or “domination,” as French calls it? “To become the shadow to defeat the shadow only extends the shadow’s reach and its reign,” French writes. “In one of the great ironies of our international moment, it appears that many of the people who’ve read ‘The Lord of the Rings’ the most understand it the least. They perceive an emergency — a world in crisis — and grasp for the ring.”

French, and those like him who offer similar arguments, misunderstands the essence of what the One Ring is. It is not power, it is not even “domination,” it is evil. In his book “Frodo’s Journey,” the Catholic literary scholar Joseph Pearce posits that the Ring represents sin itself. Certainly, it does not represent mere power. After Gandalf recounts the Ring’s provenance to Frodo in “The Fellowship of the Ring,” the hobbit offers the Ring to the wizard. “Do not tempt me!” Gandalf cries. “For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good.”

Gandalf is one of the Istari, angelic spirits of great strength sent to Middle-Earth in the shape of old men, wizards, to do good and prevent or fight against evil when it arose. Gandalf already then is a being of tremendous power, as he explains to Gimli. He does not fear power, in its proper place, but he fears becoming evil, he fears sinning. Although the power of the Ring would seem to him good, or at least capable of doing good, he knows that it is not just an instrument of power, it is sin itself. This is further proven by the other Rings of Power: the three rings worn by the Elves (one of these, Narya, after which J.D. Vance named his venture capital firm, is given by the Elf-lord Círdan to Gandalf upon his arrival in Middle-Earth) are not evil, having been kept from the corruption of Sauron, though they also wield great power.

Certainly, with such an understanding, French’s point would stand: one cannot use sin to defeat sin, one cannot justify the commission of one sin even if it brings about the annihilation of another sin. Tolkien explained this in his letters, declaring that if Gandalf had used the Ring (sin) he would have not only defeated Sauron, but become even worse than Sauron, for all that was virtuous in him would be corrupted And since his virtue was greater than Sauron’s malice, so also Gandalf’s corrupted virtue would be even greater than Sauron’s malice. But, ultimately, French’s point falters, because sin necessitates such an effect, while power alone does not. Gandalf rejects Frodo’s offer of the Ring not because the Ring is powerful but because it is evil. Later on, Galadriel, another paragon of virtue in Tolkien’s legendarium, does the same.

Moreover, Tolkien does not condemn the seeking of power. One of the chief heroes of “The Lord of the Rings” is Aragorn, the rightful King of both Gondor and Arnor, the two great countries of Men founded by his ancestors Elendil and Isilidur. While Peter Jackson’s film adaptations of “The Lord of the Rings,” though brilliant, portray Aragorn as fearing or at least avoiding his kingship until he proves his virtue and strength to himself, Tolkien does not. Throughout “The Lord of the Rings,” Aragorn is preparing to return to the throne of Gondor to restore the line of the Kings. Glimpses of his commanding and kingly nature are seen by his companions as he nears the achievement of this noble endeavor. Aragorn wishes to rule Gondor and the old kingdom of Arnor. This is not condemned, it is not portrayed as a vice nor a vanity. Instead, Tolkien celebrates this. Why? Because Aragorn is the King.

Tolkien’s view, expounded throughout his work, is not that power is evil, but rather that authority is good, and power must be subject to that authority. Aragorn is not evil for seeking dominion over Gondor and Arnor; in fact, that is itself, in Tolkien’s view, a good, because Aragorn has the authority to wield that power: he is the King. Were Aragorn to extend his power beyond his authority — for example, if he were to claim kingship over the Elves and not just Men — that would be an evil. But as Aragorn is a figure of virtue and justice, he does not. This principle can, however, be seen in other characters, namely those of Gandalf and Saruman.

Both Gandalf and Saruman are sent to Middle-Earth to help prevent, fight against, and heal the wounds dealt by Sauron. Saruman is the elder of the two, arriving in Middle-Earth first, and is the leader of the Istari and the Council of the Wise. Both his power and his authority are greater than Gandalf’s, initially. But Saruman eventually reaches beyond his authority, seeking to extend his power where it does not belong, where it has no permission to go. Called for many ages Saruman the White, the wizard abandons his office and becomes Saruman of Many Colors. He builds an army in his stronghold of Isengard and plans to seize the Ring for himself in order to rule over Middle-Earth. But Saruman has no authority to do this. Thus, after he abandons his office and Gandalf proves himself faithful to his purpose, Gandalf is made the White Wizard. He now has authority even over Saruman. When the two confront each other after the Battle of Helm’s Deep, Gandalf breaks Saruman’s staff, a sign both of Gandalf’s new authority and Saruman’s abandonment of his office.

This theme of authority is pervasive throughout Tolkien’s work, from “The Silmarillion,” “Beren and Lúthien,” “The Children of Húrin,” and “The Lays of Beleriand” to “The Fall of Númenor,” “The Hobbit,” and “The Lord of the Rings.” Just as in reality, power and might are often, though not always, praised, while the abuse or misuse of power and the disobeying of authority always yield calamitous results. This is crucial to understand, as the calamitous results of sin, of pride, and of corruption are not always visible in this world. Tolkien offers a vision whereby the rotten fruits of such decayed roots may be seen clearly.

The Scourging of the Shire

Why does it matter how a reader understands “The Lord of the Rings?” Why is it worth arguing with Politico and NYT over a fantasy novel written almost a hundred years ago? First of all, because truth matters. When Tolkien wrote “The Lord of the Rings,” he intended to extoll certain virtues and condemn certain vices. For Christians, in particular, authorial intent is of paramount importance. After all, we spend a great deal of time seeking out the intention of the Author of Life in an effort to better understand our own lives and how best to serve Him. As a devout Catholic, Tolkien believed that we are all made in the image and likeness of God; he believed that one of the many joys of being made in His image and likeness was what he called “subcreation,” the desire to build worlds — whether real or fictional — which may also in turn help us understand ourselves, our lives, our souls, and God’s design for us.

Second of all, “The Lord of the Rings” has proven to be a tremendously influential work. Although not everyone may have the desire to become a Middle-Earth lore-master and read “The Silmarillion” twice a year and study the Sindarin language, “The Lord of the Rings” has been beloved by generations and has influenced how hundreds of millions of people across the world think of virtue, honor, nobility, beauty, and right and wrong. Some of those people are and have been powerful figures in academia, artistry, industry, theology, and politics. It is worthwhile to ensure that Tolkien’s meaning is not lost, that his work is not misread and misunderstood by generations and hundreds of millions to come, for the beauty of his work will ensure that it endures, at least for a while.

Finally, it is worthwhile to defend the truth of Tolkien’s work because it is a work of both truth and beauty. The past decade in particular has made it abundantly, alarmingly evident that the cult of leftism will take anything sacred or beautiful that it can lay its claws on, hollow it out, and wear its skin like a barbarian’s trophy. Socialism, homosexualism, transgenderism, pantheism, and even abortion have become in many Christian churches and denominations not the object of just condemnation but of timid debate — they have even been welcomed with open arms in some cases. Prayers are offered where God is called a “her” or a “she” (or, what may be even worse, a “they” or a “them!”) and worship services are hosted with rainbow lights for Pride Month and Catholic priests invite tribal dancers to cavort around the altar or drape the Blessed Virgin Mary in an LGBT flag to show “inclusion” and “tolerance.”

Leftism has taken sacred things, truth and beauty, and warped them, much as the Orcs in “The Lord of the Rings” defaced statues of Gondorian kings and turned the once-noble fortresses of Men into dens of witchcraft and sorcery. It is attempting to do much the same with Tolkien’s work, which is itself full of truth and beauty, and elevates the mind and the soul to consider He who is Truth and Beauty Himself.

Those who advance feminist, Marxist, or “queer” interpretations of Tolkien’s work are akin to the Orcs who defile and disfigure the good that they find; but those who advise conservatives to abandon the beauty of Tolkien’s works, to see it as something other than conservative and Christian, to allow the rampaging Orcs to desecrate wherever they will — these are much more like to the whispering traitor Gríma Wormtongue. It is important to understand that “The Lord of the Rings” is a fundamentally conservative and Christian work. In its pages, virtue is praised, courage is rewarded, and sacrifice is honored; rightly-ordered hierarchy and authority triumph over disorder, chaos, and moral relativism. Hope is kindled, good bests evil, and the crownless again is made king.