On 12 June 2024, two Tolkien fans with rather divergent views were preparing to take to the stage. One was bestselling writer Neil Gaiman, who had come to Oxford to deliver the annual JRR Tolkien Lecture on Fantasy Literature and to unveil a memorial honouring the professor’s memory.[1] The other was Italian Prime Minister Georgia Meloni, whose career had now led her from cosplaying as a hobbit with fellow youth activists to acting as hostess and powerbroker at the latest G7 summit in Puglia. Both are prominent campaigners in the debate over asylum-seekers’ rights; Gaiman as a UNHCR goodwill ambassador who has written a book to support the refugee agency’s efforts, and Meloni as Europe’s most successful advocate of closing borders and expelling migrants.[2] Both cite The Lord of the Rings as among their foremost inspirations, and Meloni even calls it a “sacred text”.[3] But which of their visions, if either, does this text truly support?
Strange as news from Bree
We should, of course, be wary of using Tolkien’s fantasy epic as a political instruction manual. He famously claimed to “cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations”, and his abiding achievement was to give Middle Earth its own deep history and internal logic, rather than making it a thinly veiled metaphor for real-world issues.[4] Nonetheless, its development was inevitably shaped by the times he lived through, and – then as now – one of the defining features of the era was the mass movement of people displaced by war and catastrophe. There is much relevant material from across his sprawling Middle Earth ‘Legendarium’ which could be touched upon; indeed, themes of displacement and exile appeared as far back as the 1917 draft of the Fall of Gondolin,which ended in the flight and wanderings of the sacked city’s people.[5] Yet it his masterwork that contains his creative vision at its most vivid and compelling, and that has drawn the most attention from participants in all manner of culture war clashes. It is therefore worth paying particularly close attention to how refugees appear within the pages of The Lord of the Rings.
Perhaps the clearest engagement with refugee politics within the book occurs in the context of Bree, a backwater town just beyond the borders of the protagonists’ Shire homeland. When the main characters seek sanctuary in its Prancing Pony inn, the narration supplies the following description of a refugee crisis brewing in the background:
“The was trouble away in the South, and it seemed that the Men who had come up the Greenway were on the move, looking for lands where they could find some peace. The Bree-folk were sympathetic, but plainly not very ready to take a large number of strangers into their little land. One of the travellers, a squint-eyed ill-favoured fellow, was foretelling that more and more people would be coming north in the near future. ‘If room isn’t found for them, they’ll find it for themselves. They’ve a right to live, same as other folk,’ he said loudly. The local inhabitants did not look pleased at the prospect.”[6]
The townspeople’s warring impulses seem instantly familiar from our own migration controversies, with charitable instincts balanced against fears about being swamped by outsiders. No authorial judgement on the controversy is supplied, but the unsavoury nature of the refugees’ advocate already provides a hint that the locals’ fears may well be justified. This is further underlined when Frodo and companions return to Bree a year (and hundreds of pages) later, and innkeeper Barliman Butterbur takes up the story of what occurred in their absence:
“It all comes of those newcomers and gangrels that began coming up the Greenway last year, as you may remember; but more came later. Some were just poor bodies running away from trouble; but most were bad men, full o’ thievery and mischief. And there was trouble right here in Bree, bad trouble. Why, we had a real set-to, and there were some folk killed, killed dead!”[7]
It is difficult to know exactly how seriously to take Butterbur’s assessment here, as the character is often shown to be a fool and a bumbler, and large sections of these chapters are devoted to gently satirising the mutual parochialism of both Bree and the Shire. Nonetheless, the author does not cast doubt on the basic truth of his account, the essence of which would dovetail neatly with the argument promoted by many modern anti-immigration campaigners i.e. that there are some genuine refugees out there deserving of help, but efforts to welcome them will invariably be exploited as a Trojan Horse for criminality and terror. The picture gets darker as it is revealed that the wandering troublemakers – who appear to the protagonists as “squint eyed and sallow-faced” or “half-orcs” – have been invited by the villainous Saruman to serve as his freeloading henchmen in the Shire itself, where their abuse of innocent hobbits only ends with their being arrested by local militias and “shown to the borders.”[8] Treacherous elites, parasitic migrants, dark hints of miscegenation, and the cleansing power of vigilante justice; given all these elements, it is easy to see why dabblers in ‘Great Replacement Theory’ like Meloni might find Tolkien’s story a pleasing parable.
Undoubtedly, Tolkien’s deep-rooted traditionalism and suspicion of change made it easy for him to default to narratives in which disruptive outsiders threaten a peaceful status quo. Nonetheless, even in his nostalgic account of the Shire and its scouring, we can already see countervailing tendencies at work. It is noteworthy that, when Frodo and friends arrive back in their homeland, the first and most striking symbol of its ruination by Saruman is not breached walls or broken windows, but a gate newly erected on its frontier to keep people out. It is the forces of evil, not those of good, who seem keenest on enforcing a strict border regime; “you’re arrested for Gate-breaking,” one of Saruman’s quislings vainly threatens Frodo, “and Tearing up of Rules, and Assaulting Gate-keepers, and Trespassing, and Sleeping in Shire-buildings without Leave, and Bribing Guards with Food.”[9] Despite his distaste for modernity, Tolkien’s conservatism did not primarily base itself on isolationist national pride, but was rooted in the moral tradition of Catholic universalism and a personal aversion to all kinds of authoritarian law enforcement. Compassion almost always trumped order in his hierarchy of priorities, and this can be seen even more clearly in two further incidents from the borderlands of Middle Earth.
The choices of Master Éomer
Early on in The Two Towers, a cavalry patrol in the beleaguered human realm of Rohan intercepts three strangers who have crossed the River Anduin and entered the kingdom on foot. Éomer, the riders’ captain, interprets these newcomers as refugees seeking to escape the Dark Lord Sauron’s armies, and delivers a statement washing his hands of foreign troubles:
“We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard.”[10]
Yet the strangers are led by the hero Aragorn, who refuses to let Éomer evade taking a side in this struggle. What is interesting is that the stakes of the debate are not confined to this specific scenario, but are explictly framed in terms of a universal morality that applies in all places and eras. When Éomer, filled with doubt, asks “How shall a man judge what to do in such times?”, Aragorn responds “As he has ever judged [… ]. Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men.” This fundamental moral law is explicitly set against human laws enforcing control of the borders, and is shown to supersede them. Éomer attempts to disclaim responsibility for his actions, saying “I am not free to do all as I would. It is against our law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the king himself give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of peril.” Yet Aragorn will not allow the other man to hide behind his orders, and warns that “the choice must be made at last. Aid us, or at the worst let us go free. Or seek to carry out your law.”[11] Ultimately, Éomer accepts that he cannot remain neutral and must act; he not only allows Aragorn and his companion to pass unhindered, but also gifts them horses. This decision is lately triumphantly vindicated when the strangers play a crucial role in Rohan’s salvation.
The way in which Éomer’s choice is founded in universal principles is further underlined by another character facing a very similar dilemma later in the same volume, and reacting in a similar way. This character is Faramir, commander of the rangers guarding the neighbouring kingdom of Gondor’s eastern marches. On capturing the hobbits Frodo and Sam, who have crossed the realm’s border without permission, he warns them that “I am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the Lord of Gondor.”[12] Yet, like Éomer, he too chooses to set aside the laws prescribing strict treatment of intruders, and grants them safe conduct. His behaviour may carry particular weight when seeking to divine Tolkien’s authorial stance, since the writer later described Faramir as the character most similar in outlook to himself.
Nonetheless, up to this point, we might still assume a certain unspoken limit on Tolkien’s tolerance of trespassers. We, the reader, already know that Aragorn, Frodo and their friends have virtuous intentions, and moreover they are all drawn from populations who are consistently aligned with forces of light: elves, dwarves, hobbits and men of pure Númenórean descent. Conversely, the troublemakers in Bree are repeatedly associated with criminality, ugliness and potential orcish blood. Could it be that – just as many modern advocates of border control seek to distinguish between various “model minorities” and groups rendered suspect by their background, appearance or personal histories – Tolkien only supports making exceptions for the “right” kind of people?
This is why the role of Gollum in Faramir’s quandary is particularly crucial. Having already arrested Frodo and Sam, Faramir is then confronted with the arrival of their companion and guide, who has committed a double trespass by reaching the forbidden pool beneath the rangers’ hidden stronghold (“for coming unbidden to this place death is our law,” a subordinate helpfully reminds Faramir).[13] Unlike the other characters exempted from border law enforcement, Gollum is clearly a deeply damaged and dangerous individual. During these passages, Frodo himself regards Gollum with “disgust” and as a “poor treacherous creature.”[14] Meanwhile, Faramir warns correctly that “malice eats [him] like a canker” and that “he has done murder before now.”[15] Yet Frodo is unwilling to disclaim responsibility for his unsavoury companion and allow the law to take its course, instead seeking to take Gollum under his protection. Once again Faramir is confronted with a choice, and once again he chooses mercy; all three are permitted to walk free.
This decision reflects Tolkien’s recurring ethical preoccupations. As he was writing The Lord of the Rings in the dying days of World War II, the flight of German civilians before the Red Army weighed heavily on his mind. In his remarks on the situation, he suggested that even groups guilty of the severest crimes can still lay claim to our pity, lamenting how “people gloat to hear of the endless lines, 40 miles long, of miserable refugees, women and children pouring West, dying on the way. There seems no bowels of mercy or compassion, no imagination, left in this dark diabolic hour. By which I do not mean that it may not all, in the present situation, mainly (not solely) created by Germany, be necessary or inevitable. But why gloat!”[16] The essential importance of sympathy is also echoed in a famous passage from early in the novel, when Frodo says of Gollum “What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had the chance!” To this, Gandalf sternly reponds “Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy, not to strike without need […] the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many – yours not least.”[17] This prophetic judgement – and by the same token, Frodo and Faramir’s later decision to reject the strict justice of Gondorian law – is proven both correct and crucial, as it is only the last-minute intervention of Gollum which ensures the One Ring’s final destruction once Frodo’s own resolve fails on the slopes of Mount Doom. Extending charity not only to the virtuous, but to those whom we have every reason to dislike and distrust, thus sits at the heart of Middle Earth’s moral universe.
In the end, it is of course unknowable whether a resurrected Tolkien would empathise more with the positions of Gaiman (about whom scandals have arisen since the delivery of his lecture which may yet leave him in severe need of mercy himself) or Meloni.[18] Nonetheless, the worldview embodied in his most famous work seems relatively consistent. Unlike the optimistic visions of modern cheerleaders for multiculturalism, The Lord of the Rings is a conservative text predicated on suspicion of modernisation and social change, and it is thus unsurprising that its account of Bree’s refugee crisis focuses heavily on the dangers and downsides of opening your door to strangers. Nonetheless, underlying this gloomy picture is a deeper Christian morality which argues that you cannot oppose evil with evil, and consequently advocates compassion even in circumstances where this comes with considerable risks.
Ultimately, narrow nationalist approaches wither when faced with very depth of Middle Earth’s history, which comes closer than almost any other fantasy creation to reflecting that of our own. Ages, kingdoms, peoples, borders: the wise have seen them all come and go, and in response suffuse the book not with a sense of reactionary ire, but of melancholy acceptance. As an elf tells Frodo when he laments that “our own Shire” is in danger, “But it is not your own Shire […] Others dwelt here before hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out.’”[19]
Written by Louis Morris
To learn more about the history of medieval period which Tolkien spent his life in Oxford studying, you can join our regular Medieval Oxford Tour. For analysis of another Oxford literary figure who grappled with issues around migration and identity, try this article on VS Naipaul and the legacy of the British Empire.
References
[1] ‘Pembroke College Unveils Long-Expected Memorial to J.R.R. Tolkien,’ Pembroke College Oxford (12 June 2024).
[2] Mark Lowen, ‘Italy’s Meloni basks in G7 limelight with Western leaders’, BBC News (13 June 2024); ‘What you need to be warm’, UNHCR (2023).
[3] John Phipps, ‘How Italy’s Post-Fascists Fell in Love With J. R. R. Tolkien’, Jacobin (2 February 2024)
[4] JRR Tolkien, ‘Foreword to the Second Edition’ in The Lord of the Rings (HarperCollins 1994), p. xvii. All subsequent citations from the book will be abbreviated ‘LOTR’ and use page numbers drawn from this edition, supplemented by chapter titles in order to aid readers using other versions of the text.
[5] JRR Tolkien, ‘The Original Tale’ in Christopher Tolkien, ed., The Fall of Gondolin (HarperCollins 2018), pp. 37-112. For more on refugees in other works of Tolkien beyond The Lord of the Rings, see Matthew Dickerson, ‘Welcoming the Stranger: On Walls, Refugees and the Writings of JRR Tolkien’ in Monika Hilder, Sara Pearson and Laura Van Dyke, eds, The Inklings and Culture: A Harvest of Scholarship from the Inklings Institute of Canada (Cambridge Scholars Publishing 2020) pp. 290-303.
[6] ‘At the Sign of the Prancing Pony’, LOTR p. 152; for the origins of Bree’s refugee crisis, see JRR Tolkien, ‘The Hunt for the Ring’ in Christopher Tolkien, ed., Unfinished Tales of Númenór and Middle Earth (HarperCollins 2010), p. 439
[7] ‘Homeward Bound’, LOTR p. 970.
[8] ‘The Scouring of the Shire’, LOTR pp. 981, 993; ‘The Grey Havens’, LOTR p. 998.
[9] ‘The Scouring of the Shire’, LOTR p. 978.
[10] ‘The Riders of Rohan’, LOTR p. 423.
[11] ‘The Riders of Rohan’, LOTR pp. 427-8.
[12] ‘The Window on the West’, LOTR p. 650.
[13] ‘The Forbidden Pool’, LOTR p. 670.
[14] ‘The Forbidden Pool’, LOTR pp. 671-2.
[15] ‘The Forbidden Pool’, LOTR pp. 676, 678.
[16] Quoted in Dickerson, ‘Welcoming the Stranger’, pp. 290-1.
[17] ‘The Shadow of the Past,’ LOTR p. 58.
[18] ‘Bestselling author of The Sandman Neil Gaiman denies accusations of ‘sexual assault’’, The Bookseller (4 July 2024).
[19] ‘Three is Company’, LOTR p. 82.
