The Discordant Symphony: The Problem of Evil in Tolkien’s World

Mark Worthing, Dr phil., Dr theol.Head of Humanities Faculty

Tabor College, Adelaide, South Australia

Since the emergence of the modern fantasy writing in the 19 th century with the

former Scottish Congregation pastor George MacDonald,1 the genre has frequently

served as the vehicle for the exploration of theological themes. The creation of

fantasy worlds, often with strong parallels to our own world, and open to ‘magic’ and

the in-breaking power of supernatural forces, has facilitated the creative exploration

of spiritual and theological themes. This tradition was continued in the twentieth

century by JRR Tolkien, among others. His writings are not only great literature in the

fantasy genre, they also contain much insightful theological reflection. While Tolkien

the novelist would not have thought it appropriate to reflect formally on theological

problems2 – that was the domain of the trained theologians – in the fantasy world he

created he dealt indirectly with a number of theological topics. Among these one of

the most poignant is his wrestling with the problem of evil. That evil and its origin is

a major theme in Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings is not surprising as the

1 When MacDonald was forced to resign his pastorate in 1853 amidst accusations of universalism and ‘German thinking’ he turned to writing not only as a means of supporting his family but also as a new ‘pulpit.” His first novel, Phantastes (1858), is considered by many to be the first modern work of literary fantasy. Inspired by Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress and the German romantic Novalis, the novel is replete with theological themes. Other fantasy works, for both children and adults, followed, again with strong moral and spiritual themes.2 In a letter dated 14 October 1958 Tolkien says: “Theologically I imagine the picture to be less dissonant from what some (including myself) believe to be the truth. But since I have deliberately written a tale, which is built on or out of certain ‘religious’ ideas, but is not an allegory of them (or anything else), and does not mention them overtly, still less preach them, I will not now depart from that mode, and venture on theological disquisition for which I am not fitted.” Humphrey Carpenter, ed. The Letters of JRR Tolkien (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981), 283f. Paul Kocher, Master of Middle-earth. Then Achievement of JRR Tolkien, (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973) observes that of Tolkien that “without using blatantly theological terms his ideas are often clearly theological … and are best understood when viewed in the context of … natural theology …” p. 77.

question of the origin of evil arises quite naturally in any monotheistic mythology –

and Tolkien’s world, despite the ‘distance’ of its creator, is monotheistic.3

The Lord of the Rings trilogy is a classic tale of good and evil, with the lines

between the two frequently blurred. The Ring of Power corrupts even pure-hearted

hobbits over time, while a creature like Gollum is not without some hint and hope of

grace and redemption. In the epic battles of the trilogy the contrasts between good

and evil are stark. Sauron and the ring are evil, Gandalf, Aragorn and their forces are

good. Evil soaks into things, it corrupts and spreads. We have vivid portrayals of

what evil does – and how it works. But from where does evil come? The ring, which

must be destroyed to prevent ever-greater engulfment from evil, comes from Sauron,

and Sauron himself comes from an even older dark lord, Morgoth.

It is in the Silmarillion, however, that Tolkien fully explores the origins of

good and evil in the creation of a world that parallels our own. While the Simarillion

only appeared four years after the death of Tolkien, its conception and much of its

content precedes the writing of The Lord of the Rings, dating back to Tolkien’s initial

imaginative work on his mythological world during the First World War. In the

Silmarillion, whose creation and ‘fall’ story most closely parallel biblical narratives of

all Tolkien’s writings, it is clear that both good and evil, in Tolkien’s world, share the

same source. Ontologically, Tolkien is a monist, not a dualist.

3 As Hans Schwarz points out, in all forms of monotheism “the activity of the one god … is greatly expanded and he is understood as the divine originator and grantor of all facets of life. This means that the god who provides this life is also the one who supervises its present course and who establishes its final goal.” This in turn “enables history to have a definite starting point, a definite course, and a definite goal.” The Search for God, Augsburg: Minneapolis, 1975, pp. 120f. Tolkien, coming from a very strong Roman Catholic perspective, would find it difficult to imagine any other kind of world, and in such a world, the problem of evil is inevitable.

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Monistic origins of evil

The world of Middle-earth has no formal, organised religion. In fact, Ilúvatar

is not mentioned in The Lord of the Rings. He neither directly intervenes in the great

drama that unfolds, nor is he called upon to do so. Similarly, Melkor (or Morgoth) is

also absent except through his former lieutenant Sauron. He is mentioned only once,

when Legolas calls the Balrog who has just apparently killed Gandalf a creature of

Morgoth.4 Yet the great conflict between Ilúvatar and Morgoth is clearly played out

in The Lord of the Rings narrative cycle.

The ‘gods,’ when spoken of, are reminiscent of the Greek and Norse gods, but

they are not worshiped. Morgoth, however, craves worship and the kings of

Númenor, deceived by Sauron, begin to worship Morgoth before their downfall. On

the surface, Tolkien’s world of Middle-earth would appear loosely polytheistic. In the

creation account of the Silmarilion, however, we find a single, original creative being,

Eru, through whom all things that exist entered the great void of space.5

In Tolkien’s account of creation Eru, called by the Elves Ilúvatar, which

means ‘the God who is,’ the supreme creator, forms the Ainur, holy ones who are

offspring of his thought. Ilúvatar declared to the Ainur a great theme and bid them

unfold it with music, which they begin to do with great beauty. But the greatest of the

Ainur, Melkor, began to add discordant thoughts and notes into the music and the

discord spread and threatened the entire harmony. But then Ilúvatar arose, lifted his

left hand, and brought a new theme into the cacophony the music had become, which

incorporated also the discordant notes of Melkor. Melkor rose up to spread further

discord but Ilúvatar raised his right hand and a third new theme grew among the

confusion that again incorporated Melkor’s discordant notes. The music was more

4 Tolkein, The Lord of the Rings (HarperCollins, 2002), (Book 2, chapter vii), 347.5 Cf. David Day. Tolkien’s Ring. London: Harper-Collins, 1994, 125; and David Day, Tolkien: The Illustrated Encyclopedia. London: Mitchell Beazley, 1992, 18.

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beautiful than any before it and could not be quenched or overcome by Melkor’s

disharmony.6 Finally, Ilúvatar ceased the music and spoke:

Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.7

Within these stories an early and strong theme is the connection between good

and evil. Like Yahweh of the Old Testament (‘I Yahweh create good and evil,’ Isaiah

45), Ilúvatar clearly confesses that all things come from him, and that all things work

together for his good purposes. Significantly, Melkor’s discord arises in the world of

thought and music, before the creation of Arda. Evil, in contrast to Greek and Gnostic

thought, does not arise with or because of the material world, but in Tolkien’s world

precedes the creation of the physical world. But this does not imply the operation of

some sort of dualistic principle. As Tolkein put it, “nothing is evil in the beginning.

Even Sauron was not so.”8 This refusal to call anything evil from the beginning,

including Melkor and Sauron, underscores Tolkien’s commitment to abide by a

strictly monotheistic worldview in his novels. Why is nothing originally evil?

Because all things have their origins in a good creator and not in themselves.

6 The creation scene is described by Tolkien in a draft of an unsent letter from 1958 as follows: The Ainur as sub-creators “interpreted according to their powers, and completed in detail, the Design propounded to them by the One. This was propounded first in musical abstract form, and then in an ‘historical vision.’ In the first interpretation, the vast Music of the Ainur, Melkor introduced alterations, not interpretations of the mind of the One, and great discord arose. The One then presented this ‘Music’, including the apparent discords, as a visible ‘history.’ H. Carpenter, ed. The Letters of JRR Tolkien, 284.7 Silmarillion, 17. Morgoth means dark enemy of the world. .8 Tolkien, draft letter to Peter Hastings, 1954, cited by W Hammond and C. Scull, The Lord of the Rings. A Reader’s Companion (HarperCollins, 2005), 255.

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Melkor-Morgoth as Satan Figure

Melkor, later to be known as Morgoth, the dark lord whose disciple Sauron

was, is the closet thing to a Satan figure in Tolkien’s mythology of Middle Earth. The

name Melkor, in fact, means ‘he who arises in might’ and parallels the biblical

‘morning star’ allusion which some take as a reference to Satan. This morning star, or

one who arises in might, becomes known as Morgoth, the dark enemy of the world,

while Ilúvatar, in Elvish, means ‘the God who is,’ which parallels Yahweh who is the

‘I am.” There is little doubt that a parallel is being drawn with God and Satan as

understood in the Christian tradition. While Tolkien was well-known for his dislike

of allegory, there are undeniably significant allegorical elements in the creation and

fall stories of the Silmarillion.

Melkor, like Satan – particularly as he appears in the Old Testament story of

Job – is a highly nuanced figure. When Melkor wanted to go down to work among

the unfolding creation he even initially deceived even himself that his goal was to

‘order all things for the good of the Children of Ilúvatar’ (that is, of elves and

humans).9 Also like Satan, Melkor is defeated, bound for a season, and loosed

again.10 Continuing with biblical imagery, Melkor is also called ‘the great thief’.11

Melkor, the master of deception, continually manipulates through deception

and even deceives himself in the beginning.12 Even his disciple Sauron appears

originally good, interested ostensibly in bringing order to Middle-earth, and thus is

able to deceive even the Elves initially.

Perhaps most significantly, Morgoth, as he was called by Fëanor and Elves

after him, “forged for himself a great crown of iron and he called himself king of the

9 Silmarillion, 18.10 Ibid., 51f.11 Ibid., 74.12 Ibid., 18.

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world.”13 The crown, on which Morgoth (or Melkor) intended to place the stolen

jewels known as the Silmarils, and the self-claimed title, show Melkor clearly to be

what he is: a jealous usurper who wants to be Ilúvatar. In the Unfinished Tales of

Tolkien, and more recently in the separately published The Children of Húrin, is

found an account of the encounter between Morgoth and a brave human named Húrin

who refuses to give in to Morgoth’s demands. As Húrin increasingly challenges

Morgoth’s claims to power and greatness, Morgoth becomes ever more boastful,

finally declaring: “I am the Elder King: Melkor, first and mightiest of all the Valar,

who was before the world, and made it. The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda,

and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will.”14

Melkor wants to usurp everything that is the creator’s.15 Like the biblical

Satan, his envy has driven him to self-blinding delusion. Húrin’s response to

Morgoth’s boasts is telling. He knows that Morgoth has prevailed over him in battle,

but he reminds him of his limitations and his ultimate end.

Do you forget to whom you speak? Such things you spoke long ago to our fathers; but we escaped from your shadow. And now we have knowledge of you, for we have looked on the faces that have seen the Light, and heard the voices that have spoken with Manwë. Before Arda you were, but others also; and you did not make it. Neither are you the most mighty; for you have spent your strength upon yourself and wasted it in your own emptiness. No more are you now than an escaped thrall of the Valar, and their chain still awaits you.”16

There is no doubt that Melkor is the Satan figure of Tolkien’s world. Also, as

in the Christian tradition, evil is personified. It is not some impersonal, mysterious

13 Ibid., 81.14 Tolkien, Unfinished Tales, ed. Christopher Tolkien. London: Harper-Collins, 1998, 87., Tolkein, The Children of Húrin, ed. C. Tolkien (HaperCollins 2007), 64. 15 This usurper impulse is carried on through Sauron who desires to do more than simply rule Middle-earth through the power of the ring. As Kocher observes, “he aspires to be God.” Kocher, Master of Middle-earth, 74.16 Tolkien, The Children of Húrin, 64.

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force but is embodied in a personal being. Yet, as in Christian thought, this

personification does not create an ontological dualism. Melkor, no more than Satan,

is anything other than a derivative, created being.

Elves, Humans and Dwarves

Elves and humans are the Children of Ilúvatar, his own good creation for

whom he has purposes unknown to Melkor. Yet Melkor envies humanity and has his

own designs for the human race. As Tolkien explains in the draft of an unsent letter

in 1958, Melkor and his followers, including Sauron, saw in humans “the ideal

material for subjects and slaves, to whom they could become masters and ‘gods’,

envying the Children, and secretely hating them, in proportion as they became rebels

against the One.”17 In the Silmarillion it is the fall of the Elves that most closely

parallels the fall of humanity in the biblical account. The Elves, created first, are

suspicious of humans. This is seen also in The Lord of the Rings. They are prone to

pride and lust for power and cannot be relied upon.

The Elves also see a similarity between humans and Melkor. Indeed, Ilúvatar,

similar to his words to Melkor, said of humans: ‘These too in their time shall find that

all that they do redounds at the end only to the glory of my work.’ And he revealed to

the Elves that humans shall join in the second music of Ilúvatar. 18

The creation of humans is much anticipated by the Valor as bringing to

completion the plans of Ilúvatar for his new world. But Aulë, one of the Valor, was

so impatient awaiting the creation of humans that he created the Dwarves. While

Ilúvatar did not endorse this creation, he once again worked with it and promised

Aulë, according to Dwarvish legend, that they would help to rebuild Arda after the

17 H. Carpenter, ed., The Letters of JRR Tolkien, 285.18 Simarillion, 42

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Last Battle.19 The Dwarves are not Children of Ilúvatar as are the Elves and Humans,

but Ilúvatar does not neglect them, and as with Elves and humans, there is the

propensity for both good and evil within them.

Good and evil give rise to one another

There is a recurring theme in Tolkien about good coming out of evil and evil

out of good. Melkor comes out of the goodness of Ilúvatar and his creation. His

underling Sauron was not originally evil. His goal was to bring order out of chaos.

Also, Galadriel was one of the fallen elves of the Silmarillion, who in The Lord of the

Rings trilogy fights for good. The Orcs were good Elves who were ensnared by

Melkor and through ‘slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved’ and became

Orcs – yet deep down they despised Melkor.20 Evil comes out of good and good

comes out of evil. Ultimately, there is only one source.

Nature and end of evil

Evil does not have its own being. “ . . . a Darkness that seemed not lack but a

thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light.”21 Tolkien

here follows closely Aquinas’s view of evil as not a thing in itself, but rather a

lessening of that being which is inherent in creation.22 Evil constantly corrupts and

perverts. The formation of the Orcs from Elves is a classic Tolkienian illustration of

this principle.23 Evil does not create but only distorts the good already present. Evil

does not have a life of its own but imitates the good. For Tolkien, evil is shadow. It

descends literally upon Valinor and Middle-earth through the instrumentation of 19 Ibid., 43ff.20 Ibid., 50.21 Ibid., 76.22 Cf Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologica, part I, question 49, in Basic Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas, vol. 1 ed. Anton Pegis (New York: Random House, 1944), 474ff.23 See Silmarillion, 50.

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Ungoliant, the spider-like creature who hungered for light yet hated it. Melkor used

her to steal the light of Valinor and to bring darkness. The imagery of evil here is

very Augustinian. Evil is a privatio bono, a deprivation or absence of the good.

Evil, in the Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings, is continually being fought

and overcome, but never eradicated. Again, the parallels with the biblical story are

clear. As with the Bible, the final defeat of evil in the world of Tolkien will not be

completed until an eschatological ‘last battle.’24

Possibilities for theodicy

In a world with so many obvious parallels to the Christian worldview one

might rightly ask whether any theodicies, or defences of the creator, Ilúvatar, arise

from Tolkien’s wrestling with the relationship between good and evil. If they do, can

these provide insight into our own intellectual and pastoral struggle with the problem

of evil in the real world?

For those unfamiliar with the classic problem of evil presented by most forms

of monotheism, it arises out of the apparent incongruity of three foundational

propositions. 1. The creator God is all-powerful. 2. The creator God is good and

loving. 3. Evil, both natural and moral, exists in the world made by this all-powerful,

good God. Traditionally a number of theodicies, or attempts to reconcile these

apparently contradictory propositions, have been put forward. Ultimately they seem

destined to achieve their end only by denying, or the very least undermining, the

reality of at least one of the three foundational propositions. Tolkien does not

embrace any particular theodicy, but instead seems to rule the major ones out.

The best of all possible worlds theodicy, given voice by Gottfried Wilhelm

von Leibniz and ridiculed by Voltaire in Candide, argues that the world in which we

24 Ibid., 51.

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live is the best possible world that could have been created, and therefore God is not

at fault for any evil that exists within it. It’s weakness, of course, is that it implies that

God was unable to create a world free of evil (thus questioning God’s omnipotence).

It also raises questions about the ability of God to keep his promises concerning the

New Heavens and New Earth. In Tolkien’s world this theodicy is ruled out by the

creation story itself. A more perfect world than what eventually exists is envisioned

and indeed, briefly existed. The present world is the result of a series of corruptions

(or falls) from a more perfect order. Ilúvatar not only could have but did create a

better world. Middle-earth, as we encounter it in The Hobbit and The Lord of the

Rings is not the best of all possible worlds and this argument makes no sense as either

a defence or explanation of Ilúvatar over-against the pain and suffering experienced

by its inhabitants.

There is another approach to theodicy which suggests that a certain amount of

evil in the world is necessary so that there can truly be that which exists as good in

opposition and contrast to it. Again, we find no hint of such a theodicy in Tolkien.

As Ralph Wood writes: “Tolkien … rejects the modern Faustian idea that knowledge

and experience of evil are necessary for true virtue to flower.”25 While many of

Tolkien’s heroes and heroines produce their best in their struggle against evil, evil is

not necessary for the good to exist. Good exists and is appreciated as such apart from

and prior to the corruptions wrought by Melkor. In Tolkien’s world the relationship

evil has with good is purely parasitic, not symbiotic.

Finally, perennially popular among Protestant evangelicals is the free will

defence. It was good of God to give us free will, and our human abuse of free will is

the cause of all evil in the world. This is an appealing theodicy as there is much to be

25 Ralph Wood, The Gospel According to Tolkien: Visions of the Kingdom of Middle-earth (Louisville: Westminster, 2003), 53.

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said for it in both our world and Tolkien’s. Like humanity in the biblical view,

Tolkien’s creatures make choices, many of them bad choices, which bring about

negative consequences. For Tolkien, all freedom, particularly human freedom, is both

a gift and curse. But it is not the source of evil.

Tolkien does not present anything strictly parallel to a classic Christian

theodicy. He does not defend Ilúvatar in the face of evil – but affirms Ilúvatar’s

sovereignty. Even the discordance of Melkor and the evil of humans ultimately serve

Ilúvatar’s purposes. Yet Tolkien nowhere suggests that this makes evil only an

apparent evil, or that somehow it is really good because Ilúvatar takes it up into his

greater harmony.

Most significant for our own reflections on the origin of evil within our world

is Tolkien’s unrelenting insistence upon an ontological monism. Ultimately there is

only one creative principal, and that is Ilúvatar. Everything else flows from him.

Somehow, even the shadows are his responsibility. In Tolkien’s reflections on the

problem of evil within his fictional world he resists all temptations to impose an easy

solution – or indeed any solution at all. Evil is real, but Ilúvatar remains both

benevolent and all-powerful. He would rather allow the origin and continuation of

evil to rest mysteriously in Ilúvatar’s being than to undermine his goodness or

omnipotence in an attempt to distance him from the problem.

The fact remains, however, that Middle-earth is not quite our earth, and

Ilúvatar is not the God revealed to us in and through Jesus Christ. There is a distance

between Ilúvatar and his creation that is not known to the Judeo-Christian conception

of God. Hence by the third age, in which the Lord of the Rings trilogy is set, Middle-

earth may have a monotheistic foundation, but Ilúvatar plays no active or overt role in

its continuing history. The events described in the creation account in the Silmarillion

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explain evil, but there is a remoteness to them. As Hans Schwarz has rightly

concluded, “one cannot approach evil as if it were a relic of a previous developmental

epoch of humanity.” Because evil “remains among us as something very much alive

and deeply threatening and destructive” we need a God who is present and active, a

“God who has disclosed himself to us.”26 It is precisely here that a specifically

Christian response to evil shows its distinctiveness to that possible within the

imaginary world of Middle-earth.

Also, while there may be allegorical elements in the Silmarillion, especially

the creation and fall accounts, Tolkien’s point must be taken that his stories are not

true allegories. Unlike his friend C.S. Lewis, whose Chronicles of Narnia series,

parallels the biblical story from creation, to the death and resurrection of Christ, and

finally to the last battle, Tolkien’s narrative takes a very different course.

Significantly, there is no obvious Christ-figure in the Lord of the Rings. Gandalf,

however, does come closest, being sent into Middle-earth to assist in the struggle

against evil, giving his life in apparent self-sacrifice to save his friends, then coming

back from what appeared to be certain death, a transformed and more powerful

Gandalf the white.27 Whereas the biblical account of salvation history has God take

suffering unto himself in the person of Jesus Christ as a response, but not logical

explanation of the problem of evil, Tolkien’s world has no such divine incarnation.

There is much to think about from the perspective of a Christian reflection on the

problem of evil and its origin from Tolkien’s narratives, and Middle-earth is clearly a

mythical version our own earth. But Tolkien neither intended nor produced a true

allegory. For all the images and insights about the relationship between good and evil

26 So Schwarz, Evil: A Historical and Theological Perspective. Fortress Press: Minneapolis, 1995, p. 211.27 Aragorn and Frodo might also be said to represent, respectively, the kingly and servanthood aspects of Christ. Tolkien, unable or unwilling to avoid messianic imagery in such a tale, appears to have divided this role among three of his main characters.

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in Tolkien’s world that can enliven our thinking, at the end of the day we must come

back into our own reality and the biblical accounts to wrestle with the problem of evil

within the world that we know. There are significant and striking similarities between

Tolkien’s tales of Middle-earth and our own world. These poignant works of literary

fiction can, however, take us only so far in our quest to come to terms with the

presence of evil in a world created by an all-powerful and loving God.

Yet in a world originating in the work of one all-powerful creator, whether

Middle-earth or our own world, there is always hope. Evil can never be the last word.

The words of Frodo’s song, sung in the midst of the gloom and fear of the Old Forest,

underscore this well:

O! Wanderers in the shadowed landdespair not! For though dark they stand,all woods there be must end at last,and see the open sun go past:the setting sun, the rising sun,the day’s end, or the day begun.For east or west all woods must fail … 28

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Thames and Hudson, 1973.Schwarz, Hans. Evil: A Historical and Theological Perspective. Trans. M. Wrothing.

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28 Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, book I.vi, p.110.

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