There are few more infamous passages in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy than when Faramir, Captain of Gondor, elects to take Frodo, Sam and Gollum into his custody, and to bring them and the Ring to Minas Tirith. For movie fans, it is a slightly baffling diversion – Faramir’s change of heart and release of the hobbits comes swiftly, and the episode results in few consequences to him or to Frodo and Sam. To lovers of the book, though, it is an outrageous change, a sign of everything wrong with the films, a complete bastardisation of one of the book’s most beloved characters.
I’m not actually here to comment on that, though – enough has been written and ranted about how this passage alters Faramir. I’m rather more interested in the effect it has on the characterisation, if you will, of the Ring itself. Because I actually think that the version of events shown in the films does change the Ring itself, altering it from how it is presented in the books – and that those changes are subtler and more interesting, and ultimately they are extremely informative concerning the nature of the Ring.
We’ve dealt with the Ring on this blog before, but that post was concerned with how much agency and intelligence the Ring possesses (tl;dr: very little), and wasn’t concerned with the actual corruptive power and influence of the Ring. In some ways, that’s not surprising – after all, there is very little ambiguity concerning the Ring’s corruptiveness. Gandalf, Elrond, Galadriel, even Tolkien himself in his letters – all are very clear that the Ring is inherently a corruptive force.
But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone ask why that is the case. Why does the Ring possess this specific trait? By what mechanism does the Ring magically make its wielder evil? Or, to put it another way, why is it that wielding the Ring is an inherently evil, an inherently immoral, action?
After all, it cannot be an intentional feature of the Ring – Sauron never intended that the One would leave his finger. Further, there’s really something frustratingly intangible about the Ring’s evilness. We’re told that the Ring is evil, that it is inevitably corruptive, that even a paragon of wisdom and virtue such as Gandalf would succumb to its influence. But as far as I know, neither Gandalf nor anyone else ever clearly explains how that influence works, or why succumbing to it is inevitable.
The easy answer, of course, is to just label the Ring as being ‘evil’ and leave it at that, as if it were some sort of video game item, with a list of stats and figures. The Ring corrupts people because of some sort of metaphysical mechanic, and that is just how it works.
This is probably the simplest solution, and arguably the one that people default towards, but to me it is terribly unsatisfying, in no small part because to reduce and define the Ring’s evil into some sort of concrete mechanism feels contrary to the books. It seems simplistic, silly even, that it could just ‘make you evil’. Yet the books do go to great pains to demonstrate that the Ring’s corruptiveness is indeed absolute, that the conceit of Boromir, Denethor and Saruman that they might be able to use the Ring without succumbing to it is nothing more than a fancy in their own minds.
I think there’s an additional reason why this simple understanding is unsatisfying, too – namely, because the Ring’s absolute corruptiveness removes agency from the characters. That is, of course, a feature and not a bug of the Ring, this dreadful inevitability of succumbing to its power. This is why the Ring is such a powerful force in LOTR. Yet, at the same time, I’m not sure that it is ever stated what the source of the Ring’s corruptive power is – at least not directly, not plainly. As such, that (perceived, anyway) lack of agency on the part of the characters confronted with the Ring feels more than a little unfair.
Jackson’s films further muddy this issue. In presenting the Ring as being the central antagonist (a decision that I do think has a lot of merit), the LOTR films do also stray a little from the text – and, perhaps surprisingly, may actually overstate how much concrete influence the Ring really has. By way of example, compare and contrast the scene in Bag End when Frodo offers the Ring to Gandalf with the passage in the books.
FRODO: Take it! Take it!
GANDALF: No, Frodo…
FRODO: You must take it.
GANDALF: You cannot offer me this ring.
FRODO: I’m giving it to you!
GANDALF: Don’t tempt me, Frodo. I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo…I would use this Ring from a desire to do good…but through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.
The Fellowship of the Ring, New Line Cinemas
Frodo’s offer and Gandalf’s rebuke in the books is superficially very similar:
‘But I have so little of any of these things! You are wise and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?’
‘No!’ cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. ‘With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.’ His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. ‘Do not tempt me! 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. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it. Great perils lie before me.’
The Lord of the Rings, Book I, Chapter II, ‘The Shadow of the Past’, by J.R.R. Tolkien
However, note a key difference – an addition in the film’s script. Gandalf’s final sentence starts by saying that he would use the Ring from a desire to do good (which corresponds closely to the book’s text), but his “…through me, it would wield a power…” is a significant digression.
In the book version, Gandalf comes close to saying something similar at the beginning of his rejection – “And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.” But this is as close as Gandalf comes to granting the Ring any agency or independence. The rest of the passage is concerned with Gandalf himself, with what he would do with the Ring – not what the Ring would do with him. And take note, also, of Gandalf’s opening claim – that “With that power I should have power too great and terrible.”
In other words, film!Gandalf portrays himself as being a potential vessel for the Ring’s evil, claiming that the Ring itself would act through him upon the wider world. On the other hand, book!Gandalf claims that the Ring would act upon him, and that he himself would then act upon the world. It’s a subtle difference, and near-meaningless for a casual understanding of the Ring – either way, Gandalf with the Ring is Bad News. But it is a difference that is crucial for understanding the Ring’s corruptive nature.
Jackson’s Ring is near-demonic in its abilities, being seemingly capable of possessing a bearer – or even a potential bearer. The Ring is active, both in its temptations and in its agency. The will of a bearer becomes the will of the Ring, and that is an evil will. Further, there seems to be some degree of power by proximity that Jackson’s Ring possesses. Gandalf can barely touch it without being shaken by its evil. Boromir and Faramir are both moved to seize it for their own purposes. Simply being near the Ring is enough to move one to evil, according to the films.
Quite simply, I don’t think that Tolkien’s Ring has any of those powers. It does possess a power of temptation, to be sure, to a degree that is certainly supernatural, as is most clearly illustrated when Sam is seized with vivid, remarkable and wholly false visions of what he could do with it in Cirith Ungol. Yet I cannot think of an example when the Ring ‘forces’ someone to do something in the books. Unlike in the films, the Ring cannot ‘make’ anyone do anything. To be sure, many people do many terrible things ‘because’ of the Ring – but I think there must always be some degree of choice, for there are also several notable examples when the Ring fails to sway someone.
Faramir, of course, is a primary example. He seems to be tempted, to be sure, yet his word and his moral character are both stronger than that temptation. Sam Gamgee, of course, is another. In Sam’s case, we explicitly see the Ring’s lure upon him – Samwise Gardener, bringer of growth and bloom and beauty to all the lands of Middle-earth. But, at least in that moment, Sam overcomes the temptation. Galadriel, too, passes her test (in film and in book!), despite having ‘long pondered’ what she might do with the Ring. Gandalf and Aragorn both seem to toy with the idea of wielding the Ring, and both reject it out of hand.
Further, the books make it clear that even someone handling the Ring can do so without being ‘possessed’ by it. Gandalf does so at least twice in Bag End, as does the unknown character who places it upon a new chain while Frodo sleeps in Rivendell. Neither are seized with a Ring-madness, neither are possessed by some malevolent spirit. Meanwhile, both Saruman and Denethor come fully under the Ring’s lure – yet neither character ever handles, sees, or even comes within twenty miles of the Ring. Yet both make infamous Ring-lord monologues, monologues that clearly show the Ring has ‘claimed’ them. Saruman’s, of course, is particularly memorable for how explicitly it shows his fall into arrogance and greed.
“And why not, Gandalf?” he whispered. “Why not? The Ruling Ring? If we could command that, then the Power would pass to us . That is in truth why I brought you here. For I have many eyes in my service, and I believe that you know where this precious thing now lies. Is it not so? Or why do the Nine ask for the Shire, and what is your business there?” As he said this a lust which he could not conceal shone suddenly in his eyes.
LOTR, Book II, Chapter 2
Denethor’s is rather subtler than Saruman’s, though ultimately no less damning.
‘Do you wish then,’ said Faramir, ‘that our places had been exchanged?’
‘Yes, I wish that indeed,’ said Denethor. ‘For Boromir was loyal to me and no wizard’s pupil. He would have remembered his father’s need, and would not have squandered what fortune gave. He would have brought me a mighty gift.’
……
‘Stir not the bitterness in the cup that I mixed for myself,’ said Denethor. ‘Have I not tasted it now many nights upon my tongue, foreboding that worse yet lay in the dregs? As now indeed I find. Would it were not so! Would that this thing had come to me!’
……
‘What then is your wisdom?’ said Gandalf.
‘Enough to perceive that there are two follies to avoid. To use this thing is perilous. At this hour, to send it in the hands of a witless halfling into the land of the Enemy himself, as you have done, and this son of mine, that is madness.’
‘And the Lord Denethor, what would he have done?’
‘Neither. But most surely not for any argument would he have set this thing at a hazard beyond all but a fool’s hope, risking our utter ruin, if the Enemy should recover what he lost. Nay, it should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used, I say, unless at the uttermost end of need, but set beyond his grasp, save by a victory so final that what then befell would not trouble us, being dead.’
……
‘And where will other men look for help, if Gondor falls?’ answered Denethor. ‘If I had this thing now in the deep vaults of this citadel, we should not then shake with dread under this gloom, fearing the worst, and our counsels would be undisturbed. If you do not trust me to endure the test, you do not know me yet.’
‘Nonetheless I do not trust you,’ said Gandalf. ‘Had I done so, I could have sent this thing hither to your keeping and spared myself and others much anguish. And now hearing you speak I trust you less, no more than Boromir. Nay, stay your wrath! I do not trust myself in this, and I refused this thing, even as a freely given gift. You are strong and can still in some matters govern yourself, Denethor; yet if you had received this thing, it would have overthrown you. Were it buried beneath the roots of Mindolluin, still it would burn your mind away, as the darkness grows, and the yet worse things follow that soon shall come upon us.’
LOTR, Book V, Chapter 4
Gandalf is, I think, overly generous in his assessment of Denethor here (though politically it is not insensible of him). To be sure, Gandalf does not trust himself with the Ring, and said as much – yet thrice in the preceding debate does Denethor make wish that this ‘mighty gift’ had come to him. And, even as he denies that he would ever use it, he makes sure to add ‘until the uttermost need’ – Denethor, unlike Faramir, cannot deny himself the luxury of temptation. Yet Faramir had the Ring within his grasp, and Denethor never did. Proximity makes no difference to the Ring’s corruptiveness – Gandalf is able to touch it without going mad, and Saruman is consumed by it without ever seeing it.
And, of course, there is the infamous example of the enigmatic Tom Bombadil, who not only shows not a single moment of being tempted by the Ring, but even demonstrates his own strange sort of power over it – wearing the Ring, and even causing it itself to vanish. The Bombadil example may not necessarily seem illuminative, apparently unbound from many of Middle-earth’s sub-created rules as Tom is. Yet in this case, at least, I think Tom is an interesting example in that he reacts entirely logically to the Ring’s corruptive influence, as later outlined by Gandalf in Rivendell.
‘Could we not still send messages to [Tom] and obtain his help?’ asked Erestor. ‘It seems that he has a power even over the Ring.’
‘No, I should not put it so,’ said Gandalf. ‘Say rather that the Ring has no power over him. He is his own master. But he cannot alter the Ring itself, nor break its power over others. And now he is withdrawn into a little land, within bounds that he has set, though none can see them, waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them.’
‘But within those bounds nothing seems to dismay him,’ said Erestor. ‘Would he not take the Ring and keep it there, for ever harmless?’
‘No,’ said Gandalf, ‘not willingly. He might do so, if all the free folk of the world begged him, but he would not understand the need. And if he were given the Ring, he would soon forget it, or most likely throw it away. Such things have no hold on his mind. He would be a most unsafe guardian; and that alone is answer enough.’
LOTR, Book II, Chapter 2
Gandalf’s words, Say rather that the Ring has no power over him, are key. It is easy to read this as referring to some metaphysical power, and to a certain degree that is so. Yet Gandalf’s continuation makes it clear that the Ring has no actual power over Tom’s mind, either – there is nothing in Tom that can be bent to the purpose of the Ring, nothing concrete that the Ring can offer Tom. And this, slowly, brings us to the point of this post.
The Ring is not supernaturally possessive. It offers supernatural temptation, to be sure, as is evidenced by Sam’s visions of grandeur, yet it cannot ‘force’ Sam to carry out those visions, any more than the Ring can force Gandalf or Faramir to claim it. Further the Ring does not, cannot, ‘make’ somebody evil; it itself cannot dominate someone into committing an evil act. And, finally, even the claiming of the Ring does not make someone ‘evil’. This is not an RPG-style world, where a spell or an item can simply change one’s moral character.
That is not to say that Gandalf, Elrond and Tolkien are wrong, though – rather, that the very premise of the initial question is at fault. Put simply, the question should not be, ‘How does the Ring make someone evil?’, because the Ring does not ‘make’ one evil when it is claimed. Rather, it is the very act of claiming the Ring that is evil. The Ring can tempt, promise, allude and suggest, but it cannot compel, and it cannot dominate the free will of anyone. But for anyone at all, claiming the Ring is in itself an evil and corruptive act.
Thus, it is far better to ask ‘Why is it that using the Ring is evil?’ It’s a subtle difference, and I think it was necessary to try and to fail to answer the first question – because, through over twenty years of cultural impact, it is Jackson’s Ring that immediately springs to mind when considering the power of the Ring. Yet it is a flawed depiction, not true to the text – just as with Jackson’s Faramir. The Ring is not a corruptive agent, as is shown in the films (though to be clear, it is an agent of temptation!). Rather, to use the Ring is in itself a corrupt act. The Ring doesn’t turn a person evil – rather, to wield the Ring is inevitably evil.
The Ring, of course, represents power, dominion, strength. That is the reason for its forging, its function is to provide rule – specifically, rule through power. This is Sauron’s end goal, to impose his own order upon the world through his will. And that is in turn why the Ring exists – because, for whatever in-universe mechanical reason, Sauron’s forging and use of the Ring allows him to realise that goal. The Ring, then, exists solely for the purpose of achieving that goal, by providing dominion over the wills of others.
As such, to even entertain the thought of using the Ring is also to seek a shortcut to power, to try and claim power for the sake of power. As an author, Tolkien is clearly not anti-rulership, yet a clear theme in his writings is the evil of power as a goal in and of itself. It could be argued that every single villain in the Legendarium is guilty of the sin of seeking to amplify their power beyond their ‘right’, from Morgoth to Sauron to even Gollum. Further, that ‘right’ to power is a nuanced and multi-faceted thing. Melkor, as the greatest being in all Eru’s creation, surely had a right to dominion, yet he still sought to be more than that – to be creator. The later Númenórean kings, too, are born with the ‘birthright’ to rule, yet prove themselves greedy and unworthy – in Tolkien’s mythology, that right of rulership is both something that must be bestowed and earned. One is not sufficient without the other.
Nowhere is this more clearly seen than in the story of Aragorn and his ascension to the throne of Gondor. Aragorn is king by birthright, that right has been bestowed. Yet Aragorn does not rely upon his lineage or upon political machinations, but actively earns the throne through his deeds, through his learning and through his moral strength. And, finally, Aragorn does not seek the throne of Gondor because he believes he ‘should’ be king. His quest is motivated by love, by the errand placed upon him by Elrond if he is to prove worthy of marrying Arwen.
So we see that Aragorn becomes king by right, by worth, and through motive – in every aspect he proves himself to be a true king. Then there are characters such as Faramir, who begins the story in a position of some considerable power already. Faramir, of course, does not crave power beyond that of his station – and, again, he does not treat his power trivially, being deeply concerned with fulfilling his role as a captain of Gondor. Again, Faramir is a captain (and eventually Steward) by right, yet also by worth, and he treats his power over others with the gravity and respect that it demands.
These are but two examples, and Tolkien’s works are full of characters who embody ‘good’ leaders in many different ways, yet I think all of them have these elements in common. Tolkien’s great leaders and lords don’t crave power, though they also do not shirk it. To Aragorn, Faramir, Théoden, Finrod and many others, command and rule is a service that falls upon them, not a right – and to use the Ring is to assume that right. For anyone to take up the Ring, they must believe they have a greater right to power than they have earned, and it is that belief that is inevitably corrupting. Any character who claims the Ring must do so because they are possessed of the belief that they deserve more power than they have rightly earned, there is no other reason to claim the Ring, and that pursuit of power in and of itself is indubitably evil.
Hence we have characters such as Gandalf and Faramir, both of whom are leaders and possessed of great natural power, yet who are able to reject the Ring because they recognise that their current ‘power level’ is as it should be. Sam, servant of Frodo, has no wish to gain more power in the first place, and so the Ring is able to offer him little. As mentioned above, of course, Bombadil is seemingly so fixed in his ‘place’ in the natural order of things that the Ring cannot even begin to move him.
Two of the other characters who are tempted by the Ring are rather more interesting. For anyone familiar with the wider Legendarium, it might be unsurprising that for all the characters in the story, the Ring may have presented the greatest danger to Galadriel. After all, Galadriel explicitly leaves Aman and comes to Middle-earth because she desires a kingdom, because she wishes to rule and gain dominion. Galadriel herself is on a knife’s edge when the Ring is offered to her, because this is her ultimate and final test – did she crave rulership because she wished to have power, or because she sought to do good through her power?
‘You are wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,’ said Frodo. ‘I will give you the One Ring, if you ask for it. It is too great a matter for me.’
Galadriel laughed with a sudden clear laugh. ‘Wise the Lady Galadriel may be,’ she said, ‘yet here she has met her match in courtesy. Gently are you revenged for my testing of your heart at our first meeting. You begin to see with a keen eye. I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer. For many long years I had pondered what I might do, should the Great Ring come into my hands, and behold! it was brought within my grasp. The evil that was devised long ago works on in many ways, whether Sauron himself stands or falls. Would not that have been a noble deed to set to the credit of his Ring, if I had taken it by force or fear from my guest?
‘And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!’
She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a great light that illumined her alone and left all else dark. She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Then she let her hand fall, and the light faded, and suddenly she laughed again, and lo! she was shrunken: a slender elf-woman, clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad.
‘I pass the test,’ she said. ‘I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.’
LOTR, Book II, Chapter 7
Aragorn is the other character who could have taken the Ring from Frodo, had he wished, and is the other character who explicitly seeks power. Yet, as outlined above, Aragorn’s quest for power is fuelled by noble and selfless desires, and Aragorn proves this time and time again throughout the story, risking his life with no guarantee of reward in order to fulfil the Quest; and refusing to indulge in actively claiming the throne of Gondor until Sauron is vanquished.
These, of course, are the characters who refuse the Ring, yet many others seek to claim it – and none of them crave the Ring for a noble purpose. Boromir, Denethor, Saruman, even Gollum and (tragically) Frodo* – none of them seek the Ring for noble purposes, because there are no noble purposes that the Ring can be put to. To use the Ring, or even want to use the Ring, is to give in to the thesis of the Ring. The thesis that power, that dominion over others, is a tool to be wielded, not a responsibility to be earned. That’s what is ultimately corrupting about the Ring, not anything magical or intangible (though it is also capable of evoking greed and desire and wickedness on a small scale, too) – simply that quiet and inevitable admission that you deserve to be elevated.
*Though Frodo’s failure at Mount Doom is, as per Tolkien’s Letter No. 246, not necessarily a moral one – rather, it is a failure born of exceeding and lengthy psychological torment, no more a moral failing than if Frodo had ‘failed’ the Quest by dying. Nonetheless, though Frodo’s moral guilt may be thus assuaged, it is difficult to argue that his claiming of the Ring in that moment was an actively noble action!
It is Elrond, perhaps, who puts it best, when Boromir pushes that the Ring be used during the Council in Rivendell:
‘Alas, no,’ said Elrond. ‘We cannot use the Ruling Ring. That we now know too well. It belongs to Sauron and was made by him alone, and is altogether evil. Its strength, Boromir, is too great for anyone to wield at will, save only those who have already a great power of their own. But for them it holds an even deadlier peril. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. Consider Saruman. If any of the Wise should with this Ring overthrow the Lord of Mordor, using his own arts, he would then set himself on Sauron’s throne, and yet another Dark Lord would appear. And that is another reason why the Ring should be destroyed: as long as it is in the world it will be a danger even to the Wise. For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so. I fear to take the Ring to hide it. I will not take the Ring to wield it.’
LOTR, Book II, Chapter 2
The very desire of it corrupts the heart. Not ‘the Ring itself corrupts the heart’, or anything of that nature – it is the desire of it that is evil. To want the Ring isn’t really to want the Ring at all, but to want what the Ring is – dominion, power, rule and lordship, achieved not through grace but through force, and desired solely for their own ends. But the Ring cannot force anyone to act upon those desires, it can but suggest their achievement. And to claim the Ring does not force a person to become evil, does not magically change them into a bad guy.
Rather, the Ring cannot be used toward any good end at all, because to claim the Ring is to claim power for the sake of power, an absolute evil. To take up the Ring is to assume the dominative philosophy of Sauron himself, to be in concord with him that Power is an end in and of itself.
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