Farewell to Wormtongue
Walking Out On Dystopia
“What the wicked dreads will overtake him; what the righteous desire will be granted.” Proverbs 10:24
I’ve been asking myself over the past months if the “two paths” model of the future is actually a good image to have in my head. This is the model that sees the world dividing into two camps: transhuman (machine) and fully human (creature). While this future vision has long been imagined in popular film and books, the clearest statement of it comes from Wendell Berry’s Life is a Miracle, written in 2000.
Berry’s line has been extensively quoted by Substackers Against the Machine (of which I am one). Daring to question Mr. Berry is exactly why I chose to call Missives “wrongthink.” I suspect to do so may be deeply unpopular.
However, I tend to think even Berry might be with me on this one. Here’s how he puts it:
“It’s easy for me to imagine that the next great division of the world will be between people who wish to live as creatures and people who wish to live as machines.”
In no sense does Berry wish for this vision to be the future. He’s just seeing the likelihood that it might be where things are heading.
In pondering this quote and reading other thinkers on the topic, I’ve come to realize that most of us are assuming this “two-path future” will come true.
I had certainly come to this place, however reluctantly. No one likes this vision of the future, but there is a compelling logic to the thought. As we see certain portions of society embracing transhumanism and other segments checking out of the Machine construct altogether, there’s abundant evidence to suggest that Berry’s vision is beginning to come true right in front of our eyes.
However, I keep wondering—what if it doesn’t?
What if, rather than the world dividing into categories of those who want to be machines and those who want to be creatures, we collectively come to our senses instead? What if the majority of the world were to decide that, no, we most emphatically do not want to become machines? What if the world were to calmly and collectively simply resist adopting these new technologies that we’re being told are so darn important and are the only way to save the world? What if the world’s inhabitants could see that for the lie that it is, and simply say no?
Corporations can only rule because they trick us into believing that we have to have the products they are selling us. If we as individuals and as businesses refused to buy them, they’d be left dead in the water. You can’t make money off of something that people don’t want and won’t buy.
Perhaps it seems naïve, but why do we never consider this possibility? Why do we prefer to use our holy imaginations to imagine downward (with the enemy) instead of upward (with the Father of Creativity Himself)? Why do we so often tend to become our own Grima Wormtongues?
Expelling Wormtongue’s counsel
In The Lord of The Rings, the character Grima Wormtongue was a spy for Lord Saruman (who had made an alliance with the evil Mordor). He acts as a deceptive advisor in the Kingdom of Rohan where he whispers lies into the ear of King Théoden. His main strategy is to tell King Théoden that all is already lost. There is no hope and thus no point in fighting against Saruman and the Dark Lord of Mordor. Just accept fate. Doom, doom, doom. Wormtongue’s counsel weakens the will of the King. He initially would not lead his people to stand up and fight, for he believed resistance would be futile.
As Gandalf explains to Théoden when he exposes Wormtongue’s treachery:
“…Ever Wormtongue’s whispering was in your ears, poisoning your thought, chilling your heart, weakening your limbs, while others watched and could do nothing, for your will was in his keeping…. Wormtongue played dangerously, always seeking to delay you, to prevent your full strength being gathered. He was crafty: dulling men’s wariness, or working on their fears, as served the occasion.”1
The famous impact of Wormtongue’s words on King Théoden was not only to reduce the King to fearful cowering but to age the King by many years, turning him into a doddering old man. In the brilliance that is Tolkien, when the thrall of lies and deception Wormtongue has woven over Théoden finally comes off, the King is freed of this unnatural age and returns to the hale and hearty man of valour that he formerly was.
In our desire to help others see what is operating in the world (i.e. the Machine), are we becoming Wormtongues for Saruman? Are we unknowingly cooperating with and becoming emissaries of the enemy in his desire to turn God’s Creation into the enemy’s counterfeit creation, the Machine? Has our will fallen into the enemy’s keeping?
That’s the question I found myself asking as I wrote my first piece in my subseries “Images Against the Machine.” Have I been playing into the enemy’s hand by focusing the minds of those who read my work on the problem? Am I in fact strengthening its case by bringing fear-inducing attention to it? Am I magnifying the problem, instead of magnifying the power of God?2
It’s a subtle path to walk. How do we see accurately what is going on in our times without falling into fatalism? How do we live “wise as serpents, yet innocent as doves”?3 How do we speak with true prophetic voices—meaning ones that bring comfort, strength and encouragement?4 How do we use our creative powers to resist the dark potential we see, while beholding and empowering the beauty of what could be? After all, the ability to imagine is one of our uniquely human faculties that differentiates us from machines.
Why are we drawn more to dystopia than to hope? What is it in the human psyche that says, “Oh yes, that negative will probably happen. We should watch out for that possibility and give our attention to it”? And whatever this is within us, do we need to give it power, or can we choose to turn the other way?
Obviously, I believe we can.
Falling off cliffs
I’ve heard it said that “the one who has the most hope has the most influence.” The darker the times, the stronger the influence of those with hope becomes. As someone who believes in the eucatastrophe, in the possibility of the renewal of all things—now, in this life, not just in some far-off future scenario—why is it so difficult to imagine upwards into eucatastrophe and hope, and so easy to imagine downwards into dystopia and despair?
As humans, we tend to fall off both sides of the cliff on this issue, in the same ways as Gandalf described Wormtongue. We’re either too focused on the problem (“working on their fears”), or we’re in willful denial about its existence or concern (“dulling men’s wariness”). I’ve tried to probe these two camps by describing the fear that the machine camp is trying to create and also by describing the Pollyanna mentality of some Christians. Many Christians seem to want to accept all technological advances as progress—and therefore good—without stopping to think Christianly about them or look at where it is all likely leading.
You can’t focus solely on the positive and ignore the times we’re in. That’s a head-in-the-sand mentality, and certainly not one Jesus modeled. He wept over what He saw was to come to Jerusalem, rather than denying it.5 However, He offered and modeled a way out of the world’s quandaries. He focused on the joy set before Him, enduring the suffering and scorning its shame, knowing that the way of self-emptying love was the key to breaking the lies that held people in that despair and darkness.6
Just as you can’t focus solely on the positive, neither can you cooperate with the enemy and focus on the problem. Falling into despair and causing others to fall into despair over it—ultimately giving up the fight and acquiescing to the designs of the enemy—is, interestingly, the way of the sluggard, according to scripture. “The sluggard says, ‘There is a lion in the streets.’”7 Not only are we repeatedly told that the lazy person seems to look for fearful excuses to not act, we’re also told (as in the opening Proverb) that what we fear will come upon us. I’ve pondered how Job’s line, “What I feared has come upon me,” was, in fact, a confession.8
Receiving vs. building
So the question for us is: Can we collectively imagine a better scenario than the division of the world into these two paths: creature and machine? I think we can, and it’s broadly called the Kingdom of God. What if we can imagine a vision that is more powerful and beautiful—without falling into a utopia which we try to create through our own strength?
This is actually a third “side of the cliff” we can fall off of on this issue: attempting to create our own version of utopia. To imagine “upwards,” but to imagine a solution in our own strength. Imagining a scenario that requires our own power and control to see it come to pass, rather than surrendering our will to God’s.
We have to remember that the eucatastrophe of Jesus’ resurrection was preceded by an act of self-emptying love, not of power-grabbing Dominionism. This is the name of the third dangerous cliff I see here. Some confuse “receiving” the Kingdom of God with “building” the Kingdom of God. I’ve certainly heard teaching that veers this way. As always, it’s a twisting of something that is otherwise true. What is true is that we need to be “salt and light” (preservation and illumination) in all the aspects of the culture of our time.9 We also need to be aware of the reality that the Kingdom of God is not just some far-off scenario, but is already unfolding here among us.
Where the Dominionist view loses its way is in believing that by seeking and taking positions of power in the “seven mountains” of influence in culture (Government, Education, Media, Economy, Family, Celebration, Religion) we can somehow “make” heaven take over the earth. This idea can be initially alluring, and to be fair, I don’t think all teaching that simply references these seven mountains is automatically in error. However, the practical application of much of it has certainly become problematic. It creates a striving attitude and a lack of humility that is ultimately detrimental because it does not accurately reflect the character of Jesus. This striving can look like people trying to take up positions of power to push through what they believe is a Christian agenda. I cannot say it enough. Whenever Christianity has allied itself to power as a means to an end, the results have not been good.
Voices of imagination
Staying on our narrow path, what could an alternate vision of the future look like? Perhaps it’s best to begin with our question “What if it doesn’t?” What if the world doesn’t divide into two camps: those who want to become machines and those who want to remain creatures? What if we could embody a vision of the future so beautiful that the world would be compelled by it over the ugliness of the Machine vision that corporations and governments are trying to foist upon us? What if what the righteous desire can really be granted?
And, could it be that we already see this in nascent form? Perhaps it’s happening now more by default—more by people beginning to realize the horror of the dystopia we’re being fed. There is clear evidence that many are turning away from this vision to a firmer foundation. There are many exploring digital minimalism, many speaking about the harms caused by social media, many opting out of the Machine, and many creating communities where the isolation that the Machine thrives on is displaced.
Because hope creates an atmosphere in which creativity and courage can thrive, it is so important to foster hope within ourselves and others. In fact, I would suggest that hope is a prerequisite to creative thinking—the kind of creative thinking it is going to take to model a better way forward. Hope is what allows for imagining the possibility of something better. Without it, we will just continue to dream the dreams of the Machine—of corporate power, of so-called progress, heavy-handed government and the enemy.
I intend to begin to highlight the work of some people who are modeling a better way forward. Sure, from time to time I’ll still bring up aspects of the Machine that I want others to be aware of, and I’ll continue to think Christianly about our culture. However, it’s important to silence the voice of Grima Wormtongue by displacing it with better voices.
Initially, I suspect these individual’s stories are going to look embarrassingly small and insignificant in the face of the Machine. But isn’t it always the small and insignificant ones who are filled with great love who end up creating change? Why? It’s because one small life lived with integrity fills us with hope, which helps us to imagine the creative and courageous small things fueled by great love that we ourselves could do.
And many small things can make one big thing. That is, in fact, how battles are won.
“The wise tell us that a nail keeps a shoe, a shoe a horse, a horse a man, a man a castle, that can fight.”10
What if our hope is that nail?
Your voice is needed, and we’d love to hear it in the comments below. However, if you choose to abandon the voice of love in your comments, remember that you are abandoning all of your beneficial power.
Love is the most powerful force in the universe, alone having the ability to create change for the better. Indeed, it is the only force that ever has.
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.
Bible, Psalm 34:3-5.
Bible, Matthew 10:16.
Bible, 1 Corinthians 14:3.
Bible, Luke 19:41-44.
Bible, Hebrews 12:2.
Bible, Proverbs 22:13.
Bible, Matthew 5:13-16.
This German aphorism dates from the Middle Ages, and is the basis of the famous “For Want of a Nail” proverb.
Wonderful writing Meg. And from the Lord of the Rings film there is this:
Mithrandir... why the Halfling?
Gandalf:
...I don't know. Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I've found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid... and he gives me courage.
I'm walking out on dystopia too. Time is too valuable to be preoccupied with worst case scenarios and false binaries. I'd rather have second breakfast.