Ah, a briefing document for _The Hobbit and Philosophy_! What a fantastic idea! Diving into how our favorite hobbit's journey connects with the deep questions that have puzzled thinkers for ages? That sounds like precisely the kind of adventure for the mind that this book is all about. Let's unpack what this book offers, shall we, in an easy-to-read and hopefully quite interesting way, perfect for fellow travelers on the path of philosophical discovery! So, what exactly is _The Hobbit and Philosophy_ about? Well, as the title suggests, it takes J. R. R. Tolkien's much-loved story, _The Hobbit_, and uses it as a springboard to explore various philosophical ideas. It's written by a "merry band of philosophers" who also happen to be Tolkien fans. They share an enthusiasm for what they call "philosophical questions of 'immense antiquity'". Think of it as a journey through Middle-earth, but with stops along the way to ponder some of life's biggest questions, guided by the events and characters of Bilbo's unexpected adventure. The main goal of this book, and others like it in the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series, is to use something popular and engaging – in this case, a classic tale of a hobbit and a dragon – as a "hook" to teach and popularize the ideas of the great thinkers throughout history. Some parts of the book delve into the philosophical ideas _within_ _The Hobbit_ itself, looking at the values and assumptions that shape the story. Other parts use themes from the book to help illustrate philosophical concepts. It's a bit like packing your pipe with your best Old Toby and settling in for a chat about some profound topics, all inspired by familiar characters and scenes. The book covers a really wide range of philosophical ground, showing just how much is bubbling beneath the surface of Bilbo's tale. Let's peek at some of the fascinating areas it touches upon: First off, the book highlights _The Hobbit_ as a tale of adventure _and_ personal growth. It points out that Bilbo begins as a very conventional, comfort-loving hobbit but, through his journey, grows in courage, wisdom, and self-confidence. This transformation from an ordinary, "distinctly nonheroic person" who is morally ennobled by overcoming challenges is a central theme. Doesn't this make you wonder about your own comfort zones? The book asks: How can challenge and risk make us stronger, happier, and more confident? What can Bilbo and the great thinkers teach us about growth and human potential?. Speaking of growth, the book specifically looks at **Bilbo's Growth in Wisdom**. It acknowledges that different traditions define wisdom differently, but generally, it involves deep insight about living – understanding what's important, keeping things in perspective, and knowing what's needed to live well and cope with problems. Bilbo clearly becomes wiser by the end. The book explains two key ways challenges foster wisdom: they deepen self-understanding and broaden experience. Socrates' idea of "Know thyself" and realizing how little you know is presented as the first step toward wisdom. Bilbo's journey shows him encountering dangers, suffering hardships, and slowly gaining self-confidence and discovering hidden strengths, including leadership. He comes to understand the conflicting parts of himself and realizes there's more to life than just comfort, food, and pipe-weed, but importantly, he doesn't get a "swollen head" about it. Travel and adventure also broaden experience, like taking a philosophy class can be an intellectual adventure. Bilbo, initially provincial like most hobbits, sees new worlds, civilizations, sights, and people with different values. This allows him to see the Shire with "new eyes" upon his return. He loses the neighbors' respect but gains things of greater value, becoming a "contented and cosmopolitan Bilbo". This makes you think, doesn't it? How does travel or encountering different ideas change how _you_ see your own world? Beyond wisdom, Bilbo also experiences **Growth in Virtue**. The book argues that he becomes a more virtuous, or ethical, person, growing in courage, resourcefulness, hardiness, and self-control. Specific acts like sparing Gollum's life and giving up the Arkenstone are seen as signs of growing compassion and generosity, and becoming less materialistic. This kind of ethical development is often gradual, built through habit formation, much like Aristotle described. Bilbo gets used to hardships, complains less, becomes tougher, more encouraging, and develops habits of acting courageously and taking initiative in leadership. These changes are permanent, influencing his character even into old age, as seen in _The Lord of the Rings_ when he volunteers to take the Ring to Mordor. This highlights the lasting impact of facing challenges and developing good habits. The book also explores connections between _The Hobbit_ and **Taoism**. It notes Bilbo's conflicting yearnings for security and adventure, which resonate with Western readers, but points out that ancient Taoists saw such dualities as non-contradictory. The Tao is described as the fundamental principle of reality, and the power within us, _te_, is about living according to our true nature. While Tolkien linked certain desires to a "fall from innocence" and possessiveness, hobbits, living simple lives in touch with nature, embody a natural simplicity and spontaneity that allows _te_ to surface. The concept of _wu-wei_ (acting naturally, yielding to the flow) is also discussed, seen in the Shire's lack of government, reflecting Tolkien's leaning toward anarchy. The book suggests that pursuing one's own path (_Tao_) should be consistent with this ultimate principle, and actions driven by greed, like Thorin's or Smaug's lust for gold, are inauthentic and suppress _te_. The Taoist idea of detachment, represented by the sage "Empty-Mind," is explored, contrasting with the dwarves' attachment to their goal and treasure. Bilbo, with his "pure heart" and "empty mind," deliberately chooses detachment from the desire for gold, demonstrating the spirit of _wu-wei_. He even struggles to let go of the Ring, needing Gandalf's urging to "empty his mind of desire". The book beautifully connects Bilbo's bittersweet homecoming poem, "The Road goes ever on and on," to the Taoist idea of finding true dwelling in the journey itself. Doesn't this perspective on detachment offer a fresh way to think about what's truly important in life? Another fascinating connection made is between the story and **Walking**. Hobbits are presented as being built for walking, with tough, hairy feet. Walking is shown to hold a central place in both Western and Eastern philosophical traditions as a search for truth. Taking walks slowly can be transformative, reconnecting us to the natural world. The wisest characters in _The Hobbit_, like Beorn and Gandalf, are walkers who turn away from "unnaturally dull things" like excessive gold. Gandalf is even characterized by his walking stick, and his vigilance is described in terms of looking ahead and behind while walking. Hobbits also have the skill of silent walking, which is seen as a rare and high level of happiness in Eastern philosophy. Although Tolkien may not have known Taoism well, hobbits embody a similar spirit. The chapter suggests that walking into the woods, as Bilbo does, is a theme in many Eastern philosophies, promoting the development of essential virtues. It encourages readers to slow down and highlights that "anywhere is walking distance, if you've got the time". The concept of the **Cosmopolitan Hobbit** is also explored. A cosmopolitan is defined as a "citizen of the world" who recognizes and wishes well for people living differently, in contrast to a provincial who fears them. Shire hobbits are initially provincial, but Bilbo becomes a cosmopolitan by getting comfortable around dwarves and marveling at elves. His journey encourages readers to do the same. Bilbo remains relatable as a modern person but sheds his provincialism by seeing the world, experiencing different cultures, and encountering dangers. He learns obligations stretch beyond family and neighbors and that cultural differences should be valued. Living among other traditions, as Bilbo does with the dwarves, fosters acceptance and tolerance more effectively than arguments. Their interactive encounters, even when not leading to consensus, help them "get used to one another". The book contrasts this with countercosmopolitans (like goblins and Smaug) who add violence to their hatred of others. While some philosophical views advocate for things like world government or treating all sentient beings as moral equals, the book notes that Tolkien himself celebrates the "rustic and tradition-bound ways" of hobbits who are happy in their small lives and not concerned with how others do things. Yet, Bilbo's adventure, though making him less respectable, was necessary for finding the Ring and ultimately saving Middle-earth. His "disreputable cosmopolitanism" had a vital outcome. The chapter suggests that encountering different ideas and cultures is inevitable and claiming one culture is the absolute best aligns with the thinking of historical tyrants. It certainly makes you ponder the balance between valuing your own traditions and being open to the wider world! The book also looks at **Glory** and how _The Hobbit_ critiques the classical heroic tradition. While there are opportunities for glory in Middle-earth, and Bilbo performs brave, risk-taking deeds that might be seen as achieving glory, Tolkien offers a critique of pursuing glory for its own sake. Drawing on Plato's skepticism of glory (influenced by the brutal Peloponnesian War), the book suggests Plato urged the pursuit of beauty, truth, and goodness instead. Tolkien, while not advocating strict nonviolence, seems to align with a Platonic (and Christian) view where true glory is tied to virtue, including humility, kindness, and unselfishness. Bilbo is chosen as a burglar, not a mighty warrior, a less conventionally glorious role. Unlike characters drawn by the lure of glory and renown like dwarves, Bilbo is not seduced by it. He sees great wealth as inherently unsafe and is relieved not to have to transport a large share home. The praise hobbits receive at the end of _The Lord of the Rings_ is for "greatness achieved by the humble," suggesting a new category of hero beyond Carlyle's types: the "hero as humble hobbit". While critiquing excessive domestication, Tolkien hints at a Platonic affirmation of simple "worldly beauty" – like tobacco, meals, and gardens – as keeping the quest for excessive glory in check. What aspects of "domestic beauty" do _you_ find most valuable? The theme of **Pride and Humility** is central. Bilbo starts remarkable for his very unremarkability and seems humble. However, his troubles often arise when a good quality, like his sense of honor when Gloin calls him a "grocer," gets "a bit out of hand". The book frames the importance of virtue, or moral character, as a key thread, suggesting Tolkien intends to educate as well as entertain, supporting the ancient idea that virtue leads to flourishing. Virtue ethics, focusing on character traits, is highlighted as the framework Tolkien seems to use. Aristotle's view that a virtuous life leads to fulfillment and that we act morally because it's the only way to achieve self-fulfillment is mentioned. Acting from virtuous motives is right, regardless of outcome, as shown when Bilbo refuses blame for the uncomfortable barrel escape, because his intention wasn't to make the dwarves miserable. Tolkien describes creatures by their moral qualities, presenting humility as a virtue and pride as a vice, though with exceptions like the "proud" Lord of the Eagles or Bard's boast after slaying Smaug, which are meant as compliments. The book contrasts the vices of giving up (cowardice/laziness) and overestimating one's powers (vanity/rashness), noting that humility helps prevent the latter. Bilbo's taunt to the spiders, while seemingly boastful, is framed as him plucking up courage and growing into the role Gandalf expects. He represents everyday folk who rise to heroism despite being reluctant, suggesting we all might have more about us than expected. However, upon returning home, Bilbo is content with simple things, needing Gandalf to remind him his adventures weren't just mere luck. The book also tackles the **Perils of Possessiveness**, echoing Gollum's cry, "My precious". Tolkien's writings suggest our fall from innocence begins when desires become "possessive, clinging to the things made as ‘its own’". The "pervasive lust for gold in 'dwarvish hearts'" is a clear example. While Bilbo initially shows a hint of a "possessive streak" and desires the dwarves' jewels and is concerned with payment, he grows in generosity, notably surrendering the Arkenstone and refusing his full share of treasure. The book also touches on just war theory, noting Tolkien playing with the idea of economic sanctions before conflict, and discusses pacifism, suggesting Tolkien didn't endorse a complete pacifist view, though he did reflect on the moral weight of taking a life. **Art and Beauty** are presented as fundamental to understanding Tolkien's world and views. Aesthetics, the philosophy concerned with art and beauty, is seen throughout _The Hobbit_ in magical objects, riddles, songs, and artifacts. While hobbits aren't inherently artistic (beyond pipe-smoking and cooking), Bilbo's journey exposes him to artistry and craftsmanship. Tolkien, while agreeing that art shouldn't be purely practical (like allegory explicitly teaching a message), believed artistic creation was a worthy end in itself, a view similar to the "art for art's sake" movement, but only up to a point. He invented Middle-earth partly just "for the fun of it," viewing his writing as a "private amusement". Crucially, Tolkien links creativity and appreciating beauty to **moral and spiritual health**. Good characters are creative and responsive to beauty; bad characters are not. Elvish blades found among trolls couldn't have been made by them due to their beauty. Artistic creation signifies loving something beyond oneself, as seen in Aulë the Smith creating dwarves out of a "good desire to create out of love," contrasted with Saruman's ugly creations driven by a desire for domination. This connects with St. Augustine's idea of the "right ordering of the loves". The dwarves' song about the Lonely Mountain awakens Bilbo's "Tookish" side and his love of beautiful things, kindling a desire for adventure. This aligns with philosophers who argue beauty prepares us for justice by prompting an urge to protect it, and that appreciating art and nature helps us forget ourselves and "perceive justly". The book concludes this section by suggesting Bilbo, after his adventures, would say beauty and art fire the imagination and inspire a desire for "higher, nobler, and more difficult things". This makes you think about the art and beauty in _your_ life – how does it influence you? The book also looks at the concept of **Play**, arguing that hobbits are serious about it. Comfort, like Bilbo's Bag-End, requires hard work and planning, framing even domesticity as a kind of serious play. Play isn't childishness; the elves, though seen as foolish by dwarves, are playful but also knowledgeable and helpful. Ancient Greeks connected play (_paidia_) and education (_paideia_), viewing education as coming from leisure spent seeking beautiful and enjoyable things. Aristotle saw play as valuable for its own sake and essential for preparing for serious things ("we play in order that we might be serious"). Bilbo's hobbit life, with its games like hide-and-seek, listening to stories, and singing, actually prepared him for his adventures. The "Tookish" side, longing for adventure, is seen as taking the love of play to its natural end – a love of possibility. Adventure is framed as "adventurous play". The book contrasts good play (like Gandalf's, oriented toward the beautiful) with bad play (like the goblins' playing with fire). It suggests play is fundamental to knowing what is ethical. This connects to Tolkien's idea of **Subcreation**, where artists imitate the divine creator through playful creative work, seeing their stories not just for profit but as recreation. This makes one reflect: How does play shape our character and understanding of the world? Turning to the more fantastical elements, the book examines **Magic and Technology** through a philosophical lens. Tolkien's treatment suggests that just because something "magical" can be done, doesn't mean it should be. The goblins' creation of terrible weapons through scientific means exemplifies this. The desire for power and quick results drives this kind of "magic" or technology, linking it to "sheer Domination". Sauron, the "Lord of magic and machines," embodies this. The Ring itself is presented as the "supreme technological artifact of Middle-earth," symbolizing "the will to mere power, seeking to make itself objective by physical force and mechanism, and so also inevitably by lies". The book connects this critique to modern technology, inviting us to question "progressive things like factories, or the machine-guns and bombs" by considering the "life required to be exchanged for it," echoing Thoreau. Tolkien asks us to recall a time with "less noise and more green" and remember that life is about more than increasing speed. This is a poignant question for our fast-paced, technology-driven world, isn't it? The book delves into the intriguing philosophical puzzle called the **Paradox of Fiction**. How can we have genuine emotional responses, like feeling sorry for Bilbo, when we know fictional characters don't exist?. This puzzle, explored by philosophers like Colin Radford and Kendall Walton, involves three conflicting ideas: we have genuine emotional responses to fiction, we know fictional characters don't exist, and it's irrational to have emotions about things you know don't exist. The book discusses attempts to solve this by denying the emotion condition (arguing our responses are irrational or merely "quasi-emotions" akin to pretend play). It finds these unconvincing, suggesting our subjective experience feels too much like genuine emotion to be dismissed. It also considers the idea of "inside-the-story belief," where we believe things are true while engaged with the story, but notes the difficulty in explaining why such a belief wouldn't lead to real-world actions (like calling the police about Black Riders). Finally, it presents the "thought theory," suggesting our emotions are directed not at the fictional character itself, but at the mental representations or images we form of them. However, it points out the difficulty here too: we're worried about the _real_ dragon killing the _real_ hobbit, not mental images. The paradox remains "tricksy". Another fascinating philosophical concept explored is **Hermeneutics**, the theory of interpretation. _The Hobbit_ explores this through Bilbo and Gollum's riddle game. Riddles require interpreting ambiguous language to find the correct answer. The book discusses **intentionalism**, the view that a message means what its author intended. Bilbo often uses this approach, focusing on Gollum's intentions to survive. However, the book points out that meaning isn't always straightforward, especially when the author isn't present or clear. While intentionalism aims for certainty, Bilbo sometimes relies on chance and common knowledge more than guessing hidden intentions. It also distinguishes between "meaning" (author's intention) and "significance" (a message's import to a specific reader), noting that significance varies. Critics argue that meaning cannot be reduced to just the author's intention. The book introduces **Gadamer's dialogical theory**, which sees interpretation as a "fusion" of horizons – understanding a message within our own experience while also being shaped by encountering other perspectives. Gollum's experience helps him guess Bilbo's egg riddle. This view acknowledges that personal engagement is essential and that meaning isn't received in a vacuum. Bilbo's final question, "What's in my pocket?", disrupts the dialogue's goodwill. Intentionalism might say it has meaning because there's an intended answer (the Ring), but Gadamer's view sees it disrupting the collaborative spirit of interpretation. Gollum interprets it through his own experience and subjective "truth". The chapter shows that interpreting even simple messages can be complex, involving philosophical traditions and presuppositions, highlighting that "interpretation in the hermeneutic sense is something that goes on all the time". Have you ever had a simple phrase mean something totally different to you than to someone else? This chapter explores why! The book also examines **Luck**. While Seneca linked luck to knowledge and preparation, Bilbo's journey seems filled with luck despite his lack of both. The book looks at Aristotle's view of luck and contemporary philosopher Thomas Nagel's four kinds: circumstantial luck (circumstances we find ourselves in), constitutive luck (characteristics like background or genes), resultant luck (how things turn out), and causal luck (how our actions are determined by antecedent circumstances). The first three are clearly at play in _The Hobbit_. Bilbo's background is constitutive luck. Circumstantial luck appears when a fish helps him guess a riddle. Resultant luck complicates the morality of his actions, like taking the Arkenstone; his intent might be questionable, but the outcome (preventing war) is positive. The book then connects to **Providence and Free Will**. Everyone agrees Bilbo is lucky. The challenge is reconciling divine foreknowledge (Eru's plan) with human free will. Tolkien clearly believed humans and hobbits have "the gift of freedom" to shape their lives beyond fate. Gandalf states Bilbo was "meant" to find the Ring, but Frodo points out they still could have refused their calls to adventure. The book suggests Tolkien's solution is similar to Boethius', who argued God exists outside time and views all events in a single, timeless glance. Tolkien's writings support this, suggesting only a mind outside time can truly know the future. ----- You see, _The Hobbit_ isn't just a children's story about dwarves, a dragon, and a reluctant hobbit. It's packed with "deep questions to ponder"! J.R.R. Tolkien, while not a professional philosopher, was a "profoundly learned scholar who reflected deeply on the big questions". The folks who put together the book I'm drawing from share his enthusiasm for these "philosophical questions of immense antiquity". They use the story as a wonderful hook to teach and popularize the ideas of the great thinkers, both exploring the deeper questions _in_ The Hobbit and using its themes to illustrate various philosophical concepts. So, what sorts of fascinating ideas await us? Let's explore some key themes, like Bilbo's incredible transformation, the push and pull of adventure and home, the curious problem of greed and detachment, the nature of true value and glory, the wisdom found in walking and nature, the tricky business of riddles and interpretation, the perplexing dance of luck and providence, and the everyday challenge of courage and decision-making. And that's not even all of it! **Bilbo's Quest for Self and the Power of Challenge** One of the most captivating journeys in the book is Bilbo's own inner adventure. At the start, he's a typical hobbit – valuing comfort, routine, and being on time for dinner. But stirred by the dwarves' tales and a little bit of Tookishness (that adventurous side of his family he inherited), he reluctantly sets out. What happens is remarkable: an "ordinary and distinctly nonheroic person is morally ennobled by confronting and overcoming challenges and dangers". Think about it: - He chooses to continue walking down the tunnel towards the dragon's rumblings – described as the "bravest thing he ever did". - He risks his life and unselfishly gives up the Arkenstone to try and prevent a war. - He steals a cup from Smaug's hoard and is then seen as "the real leader". - After all this, even the dying Thorin acknowledges there is "more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure". Gandalf also notices the change, telling Bilbo he is "not the hobbit that you were". How is this transformation possible? Philosophers have pondered how challenging experiences, even pain and suffering, can deepen self-understanding. C.S. Lewis suggested pain can curb pride, teach patience, steel us against adversity, remind us not to take blessings for granted, and even rouse a "deaf world". The Roman philosopher Seneca saw God like a stern but loving father who harasses those he approves with "toil and sorrow and losses" so they may "acquire true strength". Isn't that interesting? It makes you think about the hard times we face – could they be shaping us in ways we don't always appreciate at the moment? Aristotle had a great insight into ethical development, seeing it as a process of working at it and developing good habits. It's not enough to _want_ to be disciplined; you have to practice it. We see this in Bilbo. His moral development happens gradually as he learns, is tested, gains confidence, and builds virtuous habits. He gets used to being cold, hungry, and wet, complaining less and becoming tougher. He even becomes more encouraging and hopeful, quoting Seneca (before Seneca's time in Middle-earth, of course!). Bilbo ultimately chose the "Tookish path" of adventure, and this choice "made all the difference". As Theodore Roosevelt put it, it's "far better...to dare mighty things...than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much". Here's something to ponder: How do the challenges _you_ face, big or small, contribute to _your_ personal growth and character development? Do you see life's difficulties as obstacles or as opportunities for change? **The Open Road and the Comforts of Home: A Taoist Perspective** Bilbo's journey is also one of navigating conflicting desires: the longing for the safety and solace of home versus the pull of adventure. Yet, he discovers a beautiful paradox – that he finds home _by_ leaving it. The sources point out that ancient Chinese Taoists were wrestling with these kinds of apparent dualities thousands of years ago. They understood that disparate yearnings don't necessarily need to be reconciled or seen as contradictory; they can coexist. The Tao (pronounced "dow-ist") is described as the fundamental principle of reality, the origin of the universe, the indescribable way of nature, life, and death, pulsating throughout existence. It encompasses change and stability, existing in harmony. We see the Tao at work in Bilbo the adventurous traveler _and_ Bilbo the homebody yearning for security. The interplay of light and darkness, like the trolls turning to stone in sunlight, is part of this universal dance. Just as the dark side of a mountain becomes the light side, yin eventually transforms into yang. The Tao within us, called _te_ (pronounced "duh"), is the power of living according to our original and true nature, not the power of invisibility. While Bilbo initially assumes his nature is simply comfort in his hobbit-hole, his unexpected adventure awakens another voice within him. Hobbits, unlike the "Big Folk," are described as being "more in touch with 'nature'" and "abnormally...free from ambition or greed of wealth". Their simple, rustic, well-ordered lives, close to nature, embody a "natural simplicity" that allows for "spontaneity". This spontaneity, in turn, allows _te_, the power of the Tao, to surface, letting them be true to their nature. The Big Folk, with their complexity, excess, and oversized ambition, represent a "fall from grace" or a departure from the natural path. Isn't it fascinating how the simple life of hobbits resonates with ancient Eastern philosophy? Here's something to ponder: How does our modern, complex world impact our connection to nature and our ability to live according to our "true nature"? What might we learn from the hobbits and Taoist sages about finding balance and spontaneity in our lives? **The Weight of Gold: Greed, Possessiveness, and the Call to Detachment** The theme of greed runs deep in _The Hobbit_, embodied most dramatically by Smaug and the dwarves, but also present in the Master of Lake-town and even momentarily in Bilbo. Tolkien, in his letters, suggested that possessive desire, clinging to things as "its own," represents a "fall from innocence and grace". We hear this in Gollum's "my precious" and see it in the "pervasive lust for gold in dwarvish hearts". The Taoist immortal, Gold-Is-Heavy, highlights this theme directly. Smaug tries to dissuade Bilbo by emphasizing the practical problems of transporting the treasure and the inherent conflict it would cause. The dwarves, while their goal of reclaiming their home is noble, become "hindered by their ambitions" and enslaved by their attachment to the idea of the treasure. Another Taoist sage, Empty-Mind, represents detachment. Taoists, Buddhists, Hindus, and philosophers caution against giving more reality to an idea, image, or symbol than to reality itself. Thinking about Thorin's obsession with the Arkenstone is particularly telling; driven by the object's beauty and significance to his lineage, he is temporarily "driven mad" by his desire, showing how even beautiful things can make us stray from our moral compass. Gollum provides a poignant example of how possessiveness leads to a "fretful life". His life centers entirely on the Ring, his "precious," which brings him misery, worry, and dependency, not happiness. Buddhism sees concepts of self and other as illusory and points to _tanha_, self-centered grasping and clinging, as the root of suffering. Beorn, who most likely agrees with Thoreau's maxim that "a man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone," and Lao-tzu's saying "he who is contented is rich," embodies a life free from the burden of excess possessions. The tragic end of the Master of Lake-town, consumed by trade and tolls rather than "old songs," further illustrates the isolating effect of greed. As someone wise once noted, everyone wants a little more money, but it's particularly interesting that those who have a lot still want even more. The concept of "enough" often seems elusive when it comes to wealth. Bilbo, although initially moved by visions of shining jewels and putting on a "business manner" to discuss his share, grows through his adventure. His act of surrendering the Arkenstone is one of "stupendous generosity". He refuses his full share, content with just two small chests and a portion of the trolls' gold. He resists the "temptations that haunted the Master of Lake-town, Thorin, Smaug, and others with a lust for worldly goods and celebrity". His love for "tobacco, meals, gardens, and other simple goods...keeps the quest for excessive glory in check". Here's something to ponder: How much are we, in our own lives, enslaved by attachment to things or even ideas? What would it mean to cultivate detachment or find "enough"? **Beyond the Battlefield: Redefining Glory** In epic traditions like _The Iliad_ or _Beowulf_, glory is often found in "heroic killing of an enemy" or defeating monsters. A great deal of blood has been shed over this concept of glory (fame, honor, reputation). However, philosophers like Plato and Cicero challenged this, suggesting alternatives like the "love of beauty" or warning against the "passion for glory" that requires aristocratic violence. Socrates chastised Athenians for prioritizing money, honor, and reputation over wisdom, truth, and the improvement of the soul. Bilbo feels the appeal of glory but is not seduced by it. When offered a large share of the riches after the battle, he expresses relief, wondering how he would even get it home "without war and murder all along the way". He sees great wealth as inherently "unsafe". He takes only a small portion, just "as much as I can manage". His farewell to the dwarves isn't that of a mighty warrior but a simple, hospitable invitation for tea at his home. Tolkien seems to hint at a Platonic affirmation of "worldly beauty as the key to what is truly important in life". Gandalf's remark to Bilbo, "You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins...but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all," to which Bilbo laughingly replies, "Thank goodness!" while offering tobacco, perfectly encapsulates this. It's the love of simple, beautiful things that defines Bilbo's contentment and keeps him from seeking excessive worldly glory. Plato's _Symposium_, a dialogue about love and beauty set at a party rather than a battle camp, contrasts this with the pursuit of personal glory, exemplified by the unruly warrior Alcibiades. Both Plato and Tolkien, in their ways, point towards a "merrier world" not defined by violent glory. Here's something to ponder: How does our society define success and glory today? Do we value achievements based on power and wealth, or on something else entirely? What might a "merrier world" look like if we prioritized different kinds of "glory"? **Character and Conduct: The Insights of Virtue Ethics** The sources suggest that Tolkien, like Aristotle, seems to operate from a "virtue theory of morality". What does that mean? Ancient Greek philosophers endorsed this theory, where judgments about virtuous character or actions are fundamental. Moral claims about what is good, or about laws and duties, are rooted in what is considered virtuous. For instance, Bilbo has a duty to protect his friends because loyalty is a virtue. Aristotle claimed that a virtuous life is one that enables a person to achieve their "fullest potential" and happiness. Moral virtues are character traits that lead to this fulfillment, and the desire for fulfillment drives all other desires. Virtue theory also emphasizes the importance of intentions and attitudes. Judging an act requires knowing what the person was _trying_ to do, even if they didn't succeed. Bilbo's uncomfortable escape plan for the dwarves wasn't intended to make them miserable, so he isn't morally to blame for their discomfort. Heroes in _The Hobbit_ often choose a path because it's the virtuous thing to do, even if the outcome isn't guaranteed. Bilbo decides it is his _duty_ to turn back into the dark mountain tunnels to find Gandalf and the dwarves, even though he's miserable about it. This duty is defined by the virtues: it's the courageous and loyal thing to do for his friends. Aristotle also described moral virtue as a "mean between two extremes". The moderate middle way is the virtue, while "too much" and "too little" are the vices. Courage, for example, is the mean between the defect of cowardice and the excess of rashness. Pride (or high-mindedness, meaning "greatness of soul") is the virtue between vanity (thinking too highly of oneself) and undue humility or small-mindedness (thinking too little of oneself). Bilbo, initially reticent, might seem guilty of small-mindedness. But his journey reveals he rises to "deeds of heroism and selflessness". He overcomes his fear to taunt the spiders with a song and save the dwarves, earning their praise and beginning to feel like a "bold adventurer". Tolkien seems to suggest we should be proud of Bilbo for growing into the role expected of him. Bilbo represents the "vast majority of everyday folk who may not be looking for excitement but who often rise to deeds of heroism". After his adventures, Bilbo returns to a quiet life, suggesting he doesn't fall into the vice of vanity or vainglory, attributing success to his own greatness rather than goodness or grace. Gandalf confirms this when he reminds Bilbo his adventures weren't managed by "mere luck, just for your sole benefit", but Bilbo's humble reply shows he hasn't become vain. Here's something to ponder: Can you think of other examples in _The Hobbit_ where characters demonstrate virtues or vices? How do intentions and attitudes shape our moral judgments in everyday life? **Citizens of the World: Cosmopolitanism** _The Hobbit_ also offers a look at different ways of relating to the wider world. Hobbits are initially portrayed as representing "rural, late Victorian Englishness" and as "provincials who fear the differences of others". They prefer predictability and tradition, disliking "weirdos" and avoiding adventures. The author humorously compares this to his own provincial upbringing, fearing foreigners and mocking those from the "other side of the river". In contrast, a cosmopolitan is a "citizen of the world" who recognizes and respects different ways of life, wishing good for all. This involves taking an interest in others' practices and beliefs. The challenge lies in balancing "universal concern and respect for legitimate difference". Bilbo's adventure transforms him from a provincial hobbit to a cosmopolitan one. By the end, the dwarves respect Bilbo, and he honors their traditions. This understanding didn't come through debate but through shared experience and "shared suffering" (compassion) during their quest. The goblins and Smaug, who use violence to impose their views, represent "countercosmopolitan extremists". While some political cosmopolitans argue for world government, others like Peter Singer suggest all sentient beings are "moral equals" and duties to strangers can be as compelling as duties to family. Bilbo's journey, described as having a "disreputable cosmopolitanism," ultimately helps save Middle-earth. You "cannot forever fence out" the wide world. Claiming one culture is the absolute best aligns you with historical tyrants. The call is to learn "kindness to strangers" to live together. Here's something to ponder: How do you engage with people and cultures different from your own? What challenges do we face in being "citizens of the world" today? **The Philosopher's Stroll: Walking, Nature, and the Modern World** Walking isn't just how hobbits get around; it holds a central place in both Western and Eastern philosophical traditions as a path to truth. Think of Moses on Mount Sinai or Muslims circling the Kaaba – many religions feature walks of quiet contemplation. As one author wryly notes, "I don’t know much about gods, but it seems that they like their believers to do a lot of walking". Philosopher David Abram discusses how oral cultures have a symbiotic relationship with nature. He suggests the natural world is calling to us, but we're often "in too much of a hurry to notice". Walking becomes more important as we lose this connection. The sources contrast this with modernity, where we navigate "abstract systems" (credit cards, social media, GPS) and rely on "impersonal principles" and "anonymous others," potentially leading to a loss of community and a sense of "dis-placement". Tolkien, suspicious of modern solutions, believed "place still mattered" and suggested that disconnected people didn't need philosophy books as much as they needed to "go outside and take a walk". Gandalf, the quintessential philosopher-walker, embodies vigilant walking. His staff isn't just a stick; it's tied to the Icelandic word for wand or staff. His cryptic explanation of looking ahead and behind to Thorin highlights this active engagement with the path. Hobbits also possess a unique skill: moving silently in nature, which Tolkien notes is an "ordinary sort of magic". In Eastern philosophy, such silent walking can signify the "highest level of happiness". Buddhist walking meditations are practiced to gain insight and increase concentration. The modern world, with its "noise" and less "green," is contrasted with preindustrial times. Technology and machinery, driven by impatience and a "desire for Power," are seen by Tolkien as tools of Sauron, who is "the Lord of magic and machines". Applied science, while solving problems, can make us blind to consequences. Tolkien was sympathetic to pure science (knowledge for its own sake), embodied by Tom Bombadil, whose indifference to the Ring shows the limits of manipulative technology. Tolkien questioned the modern assumption that "if a thing can be done, it must be done," arguing that the greatest actions involve "abnegation" or self-denial. He invites us to consider whether factories, machine-guns, and bombs are the inevitable products of this mindset. Henry David Thoreau urged pricing possessions and technology not by money but by the "life required to be exchanged for it". Tolkien echoes this, suggesting that there is "more to life than increasing its speed". Here's something to ponder: How does walking or spending time in nature impact your perspective? Do you see technology as always beneficial, or does it carry hidden costs? **Beyond Words: The Tricky Business of Interpretation and Riddles** Imagine receiving a note, like Bilbo's from Thorin, that's a bit ambiguous. How do you know what it means? What determines its meaning? How do you know you've got the _right_ meaning? These are questions explored by hermeneutics, the philosophical theory of interpretation. The chapter "Riddles in the Dark" between Bilbo and Gollum is a perfect illustration of this. They grapple with how to assign meaning to "vague or ambiguous language". Riddles have rules: two participants, one gives a riddle, and the riddler knows the answer. The goal is to communicate the answer while disguising it. The meaning is "in disguise (or 'in the dark')". The most common-sense view of meaning is intentionalism: "a message means what its author intended it to mean". The goal is to find the author's original intention. Educator E.D. Hirsch Jr. is a well-known defender of this view. Bilbo, trying to figure out Gollum, often focuses on Gollum's _intentions_ ("What does this creature intend them to mean?") rather than just the words. However, a problem arises: how can you be certain of the author's intention, especially if they are absent or unwilling to reveal it? You could ask, but that might just lead to more ambiguous messages. Or you could look at clues in the message, behavior, or history. For Hirsch, language is a tool of the user, not self-determining. Bilbo's guess to Gollum's tough riddle about time is based on luck, not necessarily discerning Gollum's deep intention. Hirsch admits words can have "significance" (meaning _to_ a reader) separate from fixed "meaning" (author's intention). Philosopher Monroe Beardsley argued that the real question is whether meaning _is_ identical to intention, not just whether they coincide. Gollum's approach to Bilbo's riddles offers a different perspective, aligning more with Hans-Georg Gadamer's dialogical theory of interpretation. Gadamer suggests interpretation involves a "fusion" of the reader's understanding (horizon) with the text's horizon. Gollum, hearing Bilbo's riddle about eyes and faces (sun and daisies), relates it to his own experience of living with his grandmother by a river. His understanding is based on his own (fictional) history and horizon. He understands the "egg" riddle by reflecting on his past experience of thieving and teaching his grandmother. We understand new ideas within our own experience. Gadamer's theory recognizes that meaning's "significance" changes from person to person and emphasizes personal engagement with the message. However, Gadamer's model relies on the "goodwill of the participants" in a dialogue. When Bilbo asks Gollum "What's in my pocket?", this disrupts the established riddle game and its goodwill. It's not a typical riddle with clues. Gollum interprets this purely through his own experience and fear ("He's got my precious!"). While Bilbo technically has "an intention" and "an answer" (the ring) from an intentionalist view, his question breaks the spirit of the game from Gadamer's perspective. Gollum's conclusion, though "true" in the story, is created from his "inner dialogue," not an objective interpretation of a riddle. Interpretation goes on all the time, not just in formal riddles. Even a simple "Good morning!" can have multiple meanings, as Gandalf points out. Our approach to interpretation is often assumed, tied to philosophical traditions and presuppositions. Ambiguous messages make our interpretive approach more obvious. Here's something to ponder: How do your own experiences and background (your "horizon") shape the way you interpret what you read, hear, or see? When have you encountered a situation where the meaning of something was unclear, and how did you try to figure it out? **The Hand of Fate? Luck, Providence, and Free Will** Bilbo seems to be an incredibly lucky hobbit. He leaves unprepared but is chosen for the quest. He narrowly escapes trolls, falling boulders, spiders, and elves, often with the timely help of others or fortunate circumstances. Most crucially, he "luckily pulls his hands out of his pockets" right before Gollum guesses the answer to his impromptu riddle. And, of course, he finds the Ring, a "turning point in his career". But what exactly _is_ luck? Seneca said "luck is when knowledge meets preparation", but Bilbo's lack of both complicates this. Aristotle suggested luck is involved when something surprising happens, not something regular or predictable. When Bilbo escapes the goblin caves, his companions see it as luck. Escaping enemies in a cave isn't expected, so it seems like luck. Yet, explaining _how_ he escaped (by being quiet, having a sword, fitting through a crack, using the Ring) makes the luck seem to disappear; it doesn't add to the causal explanation. Aristotle's second insight is that luck is found where "two perfectly ordinary causal factors coincide in some unexpected way". It's not a magical force. Bilbo's girth (due to being a hobbit and his diet) coinciding unexpectedly with the size of the crack in the door creates a moment where luck seems involved, first bad, then good. Contemporary philosopher Thomas Nagel identified four kinds of luck, three seen in _The Hobbit_: - **Circumstantial luck:** The circumstances you find yourself in (like the cave being the goblins' "front porch," or a fish jumping onto Bilbo's toes). - **Constitutive luck:** Your personal characteristics (being a hobbit and small enough to fit through the crack is constitutive luck). John Rawls used the idea of a "natural lottery" to show how characteristics are out of our control. - **Resultant luck:** How things turn out (Bilbo finding the Ring and it leading to Sauron's downfall is resultant luck). We control our actions, but not always their outcomes. The sources also introduce the idea of divine providence (Eru). Tolkien suggested Eru arranged for Gollum to drop the Ring so Bilbo could find it. This raises a deep philosophical problem: if God (Eru) planned this and knew it would happen, does that mean the characters weren't _free_ to make their choices that led to that moment?. If Eru knew centuries in advance, how could Gollum be free to kill the goblin-imp, Bilbo free to flee, Gandalf free to rescue them, etc.?. This is the classic problem of reconciling divine foreknowledge with free will. Tolkien, however, didn't solve this by denying free will. He explicitly stated that humans (and hobbits) have "the gift of freedom," able to "shape their life...beyond the Music of the Ainur, which is as fate to all things else". Gandalf tells Frodo that Bilbo _was meant_ to find the Ring, and Frodo _was meant_ to bear it, but Frodo points out they still _could have refused_ – Gandalf couldn't compel them. So, Bilbo's adventures, while seemingly arranged by Eru, weren't due to "mere luck" or solely for his benefit, but part of a providential plan. Perhaps his luck was simply being chosen for such a great part. Here's something to ponder: How do you distinguish between luck, coincidence, and fate in your own life? Do you believe in free will, and how might that idea interact with the concept of a larger plan or providence? **Facing Fear: Courage and Making Decisions in the Face of Uncertainty** Life is full of uncertain decisions, from choosing a used car to assessing risks like an airplane's safety. Adventurers, like Bilbo, undertake risks that few others would, often for noble goals. But how do we judge if their decisions are courageous or merely rash or careless?. Philosophers offer tools for reasoning about decisions under uncertainty. Moral reasoning, distinct from logic or math, aims at determining the "right thing to do". Aristotle, in his virtue ethics, identified courage as the virtue between the vices of cowardice and foolishness or rashness. Courage isn't the absence of fear, but acting appropriately _in the face of fear_, especially the fear of death. The brave person is "keen in the moment of action, but quiet beforehand". While what is "terrible" varies, courage fundamentally concerns facing "the most terrible thing, death, and specifically a noble death". We can analyze decisions under uncertainty using tools like expected utility theory or conditional probability. Expected utility involves knowing the likelihood of outcomes and how much you value them to find the best decision. A decision tree helps visualize this. Applying this to the dwarves' decision to follow the light towards the trolls shows how difficult it is to assign numerical values to outcomes like comfort versus trouble. Simplifying by focusing on the most significant outcome (trouble) might have led them to stay put, as the risk was higher going towards the light. Hindsight shows they were only lucky to survive. Conditional probability helps understand the likelihood of one event given another has occurred. This helps avoid fallacies, like the gambler's fallacy, which incorrectly assumes past events influence the probability of independent future events. When the group sees the Wood-elves' lights after the troll incident, they might fall prey to this, thinking they'll _either_ have trouble again _or_ be due for good luck. Fortunately, they hesitate because of Gandalf and Beorn's strong warnings to stay on the path. Their decision to send spies aligns better with considering the risks of each option, rather than falling for the fallacy. Does Bilbo demonstrate Aristotelian courage? He clearly feels fear, often wanting to be safe at home. He doesn't rush into danger but often acts when he _has_ to. His decisions are generally consistent with the best information available, even if incomplete. He risks his life to save his companions from spiders, elves, and goblins, valuing their lives and noble goals over his own safety. The sources highlight his walk alone into Smaug's lair as his bravest act – fighting the "real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger". This moment meets the classical standards for courageous action. Aristotle noted that character is built over time through practice. Performing courageous acts doesn't instantly make you courageous, just as lifting weights once doesn't make you strong. Bilbo is described as acting courageously and _developing_ the virtue of courage. Here's something to ponder: When faced with a decision involving risk, how do you weigh the potential outcomes? What situations challenge your own courage, and how do you respond to fear? **The Return Journey: Innocence and Experience** The subtitle "There and Back Again" hints at another philosophical theme: the interplay of innocence and experience. Reading _The Hobbit_ as a child versus an adult reveals different layers. The promise of adventure at the beginning can seem like a simple "Once upon a time" tale. But knowing what happens later, how the Ring impacts Bilbo and leads to the terrifying events in _The Lord of the Rings_, makes that initial promise feel more ominous, questioning whether he truly "gained anything in the end". His adventure cost him his innocence and perhaps led to a darker life than the one he would have known in the Shire. He made a choice that brought great good to others but perhaps personal disaster to himself, a "one-way bargain" where he couldn't know the full cost upfront. Romantic poets like Wordsworth explored how we understand experience by reflecting on the innocence it cost us. Memory can restore us to the original experience or show the distance from who we were. Bilbo becomes a kind of Romantic figure, appreciating splendors, listening to his inner voice, and acting when others are paralyzed. His politically astute move to give up the Arkenstone is partly a product of the innocence he preserved. Thorin's dying words acknowledge Bilbo's "childlike" virtues – valuing "food and cheer and song above hoarded gold" – while also hinting that perhaps he shouldn't have involved Bilbo at all. Thorin sees virtues in Bilbo that make him question his own path. Meeting Bilbo again in _The Lord of the Rings_ shows the effect of the Ring and experience. He's tired of the world that once delighted him, seeking another adventure, valuing past experiences over his present life. William Blake explored innocence and experience in his famous poem sets. He contrasted the innocent question "Little Lamb, who made thee?" with the fearful inquiry about the creator of the dangerous "Tyger". This raises troubling questions about the nature of good and evil and whether the same divine power created both. Smaug and the Tyger share qualities – both threaten innocents and force us to confront the existence of evil alongside goodness. Ralph Waldo Emerson offered a different view of innocence, not just something lost but something adults can strive for. This requires setting aside certainty and embracing the chance for something new. His strange image of becoming a "transparent eyeball" in nature, seeing everything while being nothing, represents this. Bilbo, using the Ring, temporarily becomes like this. In his first use, it gives him a glimpse into Gollum's humanity and allows him to show mercy, crucial to Sauron's eventual downfall. Troublingly, in _The Lord of the Rings_, the image of the transparent eyeball belongs to Sauron, the evil eye, an "emblem of experience" and tyrannical vision. Sauron's power to see everything and know you is terrifying; he relies on inflaming desires for wealth, power, and control. The Ring poisons the "innocent sense of self," replacing it with Sauron's desires. Frodo's struggle is internal – his innocence against the Ring's attempt to awaken his inner tyrant. The Greek word _nostos_, meaning homecoming, is echoed in the subtitle. While Greeks celebrated return, the English word "nostalgia" hints at a darker side – celebrating what was over what is, a form of melancholy. Here's something to ponder: What does it mean to lose your innocence? Are there ways to gain experience without losing a valuable part of yourself? How do we balance appreciating the past with living fully in the present?