Martin, Warhammer, Tolkien: The Relationship of Morality With Power

Morality’s relationship to power is a classic problem (one I brush up against in my novel). Is righteousness doomed? Does might make right? Is morality a silly pretense in a world of power-politics? Because these problems are so powerful in men’s minds, they have appeared repeatedly in fiction, taking center stage or playing the counterpoint or forming the harmonic foundation. Today, we’re going to look at three different answers as they show up in fiction, in George R.R. Martin’s work, in the world of Warhammer 40K, and in the work of J.R.R. Tolkien.

I’m going to address a thematic through-line between three different works of fiction (‘franchises’ if you want to use the corporate-speak). Of these, I am intimately familiar with only one. You should, therefore, take what I say about the other two not directly as a statement on the works themselves but on 1) their popular perception and 2) works and persons holding the ideas I describe.

(Specifically, I’m well versed in Tolkien, if not a full-blown expert; for the other two, I’m operating off second-hand information in this piece.)

Each understanding of the relationship between morality and power constitutes a moral order. In George R.R. Martin’s work, as I have been given to understand it, morality plays a fiddle not only separate from power but almost opposed to it. Righteousness and virtue are all very well, but they die brutally in the world of power. The world of power, of course, devours all it touches- but it touches all, so you cannot retreat into a world of morals, except for a short time and at the cost of an even quicker death when power’s hand returns to your life. To be good is in such a world self-destructive; the world demands that if you would survive, you must abandon morals in favor of cold calculus, of real-politick, of cruelty. Even if virtue might be necessary for collective, long-term survival, the world seems to leave no place for it.

Warhammer 40K presents an advance on this moral order but not enough of an advance (and I say ‘advance’ because Scripture gives us a moral order to compare these to). In Warhammer’s universe, survival is bought by relentless struggle. Righteousness is noble, even when it is fruitless; it is not spit upon, as Martins’s world seems to, though it is a pagan, incomplete virtue, tending towards monstrosity. The appeal of the setting, for many, is the picture of men fighting a hopeless fight against damnation, a fight where winning means simply that another day goes by; it is an appeal of the perpetual last stand, of hard virtue, of courage.

Tolkien takes another stand. In Arda, as in Warhammer’s world, the war with evil is a “long defeat,” as Elrond terms it. Ever evil surges higher; ever righteousness seems on the wane. Even when virtue triumphs massively, as in the first centuries of the Noldorean siege of Angband, in the War of Wrath, in Numenor’s conquest of Mordor, in Gondor’s defeat of Sauron, vice creeps in, corrupting the victors and spoiling their victory (except for the War of Wrath, arguably, whose consequences are on the order of completed-tragedy (the Faenorians) and of simple destructive impact (the sinking of Beleriand). Yet Tolkien’s moral order differs in two key ways from Warhammer’s, is an advance in all ways from Martins’. How?

In Tolkien’s moral order, righteousness truly is the only worthwhile foundation. Power joined with vice may be expedient, but its fruit is misery and grime- Sauron’s order or Morgoth’s chaos. The righteous, meanwhile, may be a flawed wielder of power (for even the righteous have flaws; even the flawless have short-comings, in this world), but while they act in righteousness, they can use power to bring true goodness, however temporary, the only worthwhile working of power. Power is thus made a servant of righteousness, not a goal in itself, as it becomes for Martins’s moral order.

In Tolkien’s moral order, righteousness is also transcendent. Whereas in Warhammer, the world is facing a near-inevitable conquest by vice, Tolkien’s Arda looks beyond and sees that righteousness not only can win in the end, it shall win in the end. The defeat of wickedness is inevitable, though we do not see it in our time; power ultimately joins with righteousness, its purpose, not with wickedness, its lover. The Valar and Eru are the most concrete examples of this, in a sense, as is the foretold Dagor Dagorlad in which Morgoth will be finally thrown down (an idea never made completely canon by Tolkien but certainly part of his conception for decades, possibly (I know no contradiction of this, but no clear proof) up till his death). The most striking example, however, is Sam’s thought after the trial of Cirith Ungol (borrowed for the end of The Two Towers by the films): the stars are still beyond Sauron. Though he reaches to his fullest power, they shall stand unsmirched, witnesses that evil is but a passing shade, however dark.

In these, Tolkien’s moral order is joined to Scripture’s, a reflection of it. Righteousness, God’s righteousness, truly is the only proper partner for power, the only partner which makes power worth having and worth wielding. Righteousness, God’s character, truly triumphs, at times invisibly on earth but with completeness in the end, by His power- for He stands uncorrupted and uncorruptible, the Guarantor of our salvation (Eph. 1:14; Heb. 7:22).

God bless.