Where Are the Sons of Boromir?

I am perhaps the last individual in the U.S. older than 10 to have seen the first installment of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies, The Fellowship of the Ring. That wasn’t by choice, but rather of necessity. Having acquired first a TV, then a decent VCR, and now a copy of the movie, I have at last seen Jackson’s rendering of Tolkien’s tale of the nine who set out for Mount Doom, to destroy the One Ring of power.

Knowing I was unlikely to see the movie in the cinemas, I didn’t pay much attention to the hype running up to its release, nor did I read any reviews, which often contain too much information and thus are spoilers. It’s been years since I read any of the Tolkien books, although I have read them multiple times with much enjoyment. I came to The Fellowship of the Ring with few expectations, and ready to soak in Jackson’s vision of the story. While I have the inevitable quibbles about some omissions and changes, the movie delivers the essence of the story with remarkable clarity and emotional punch. What surprised me most about watching The Fellowship of the Ring was my reaction to Boromir’s death scene. It was a highly charged account in the book, one I remembered well, yet the depth of my response to its portrayal in the movie seemed inappropriate. Why had his fall affected me so?

Jackson does a truly masterful job, and actor Sean Bean, who is compelling as Boromir throughout the movie, is perhaps at his best in the death scene. But my response was not due to the superb crafting of the scene, but rather a thought I had upon first seeing it—one that returns to me every time I see it: there are few individuals I’m aware of in the pro-freedom movement who would likely be so valiant. As far as I can tell, we have at best very few sons of Boromir.

I’m not talking about Boromir’s courageous fighting, battling vainly to protect two of the hobbits from the orcs even as the orc leader shoots arrow after arrow into his body. Nor is it his unflinching stance when the leader takes aim at point-blank range that I refer to. In the scene immediately prior to the battle with the orcs, Boromir has unsuccessfully tried to take the One Ring from Frodo. Its power began weaving its spell on Boromir from first sight at the council in Rivendell, and ultimately led him to confront Frodo. When he realizes what he’s done, Boromir is horrified. He calls out an apology to Frodo, but it is too late. Frodo has gone, and the Fellowship has begun to break up. Boromir immediately recognizes that he has done wrong, and it is his attempt to set it right, to his last breath, that leaves me near tears every time I see the movie.

Some Tolkien scholars have interpreted much of the Lord of the Rings in terms of religious themes. Thus, according to some who ascribe to this view, Boromir’s actions are explained by a need for redemption, of setting things right before he dies. But Boromir can’t do that: the Ring is being carried away, unbeknownst to him, even as he fights the orcs. Indeed, his actions have set in motion a series of events that needs to happen—the Fellowship of the Ring needs to be broken up—for good to triumph over evil in Middle Earth.

Boromir’s heroism is ultimately much more simple, and noble to my mind, than that. He is human. It’s no small part of his heroism that he rises above his human flaws in the last battle of his life. Rather than sitting and thinking, or whining and playing the victim, he battles bravely, in part to counter his perceived failing of the Fellowship and his comrades.

How many libertarians would follow in his steps? I can think of a few men whom I can envision doing so, and maybe one woman (no, not me) ... but sadly, I see no more than that in my fairly wide circle of friends and acquaintances. The freedom movement seems to spawn individuals of talk and analysis rather than action. But there comes a time when talking, philosophizing, and analyzing are for naught; there comes a time when the only thing that will make a difference is taking up one’s chosen weapon, and making the best stand one can in defense of one’s principles. Many seem to pine for a John Galt to appear among us—but there are, and never will be, no such individuals. We are human, with frailties, flaws, foibles, and fears. That isn’t to be denied, nor is it to become an excuse or a copout. We can choose a nobler course.

Near the end of the movie, Frodo recalls an earlier conversation with Gandalf, after Frodo expressed the wish that “none of this” had happened to him. Gandalf replied, “So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.” With the USA PATRIOT and Homeland Security Acts pressing upon us, challenging times are here—and likely to be present for some time—for those who cherish liberty. If ever there was a time to test our mettle, it is now. We can choose not to give in to our inevitable human weaknesses, and instead choose to fight the fight of our lives for a cause we believe in. We can do as Boromir did. The question is: will we?