It isn’t easy to admit being wrong, so here goes nothing. You may recall a previous article, written by yours truly, evaluating some actions of the current U.S. Presidential administration. At the time, I evaluated the merits of a “temporary freeze of foreign development aid.” What the U.S. government proceeded to do to foreign aid after the fact is nothing short of an extensive, confounding, permanent dismantling. We are now compounding this with an inexcusable treatment of our closest allies and a continued contempt for the current world order. Putting it all together, it is clear to me that we are hurtling towards isolationism, which directly contradicts fundamental principles of my faith. As a Lord of the Rings fan, I can expand upon this idea with more nuance.
A crucial element of Lord of the Rings is its commentary on political unity: in the shadow of Mordor, a fragmented world is a vulnerable world. When evil grows, isolation necessarily becomes peril. And the question arises now more than ever — who will rise to gather the scattered banners?
Consider King Théoden of Rohan, cloaked in despair when first we meet him. Poisoned by the whispers of Gríma Wormtongue, and suspicious of any external commitment, he withdraws from the world, convinced that the days of old alliances have passed. “Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell?” he asks bitterly. His is a lament rooted in loss and mistrust: the belief that no one came to his people’s aid, so why should he aid others? Nobody else treats Rohan fairly, so they should expect nothing from Rohan in return (sound familiar?). Yet Théoden’s story does not end in retreat.
Moved by counsel, honor, and eventually hope, Théoden rides to war; to Gondor’s aid against the besieging forces of Sauron, not for glory, but for fidelity: to restore a bond nearly broken by neglect. As he rallies his troops before what he knows is the battle which will possibly spell the end of his people, Théoden bellows a rallying cry, and meets Sauron’s army head on.
Theoden ultimately saved Gondor — which means Rohan itself was saved. Théoden’s ride to Minas Tirith is not just a military maneuver; it is a return to principle, a stand against despair, simply doing what is right.
In sharp contrast, we find Denethor, Steward of Gondor, simultaneously descending into madness. His bitterness matches that of Théoden, but Denethor never escapes it. Believing Theoden cannot or will not come to assist him in the siege of Minas Tirith, he surrenders to despair and abandons true leadership. “Rohan has deserted us,” he laments. “Theoden has betrayed me.” He then orders his soldiers to save themselves. For Denethor, the war against Sauron is already lost. The alliances of old are dead. There is no hope in unity, only the inevitability of ruin alone. And so, consumed by pride and fatalism, he prepares to literally burn both his son and himself alive.
And then the horns sound. Théoden and his host have arrived.
Though Théoden and his riders beat back the army of Sauron, Denethor still ends up lighting himself afire and jumping off the great fortress of Minas Tirith to his death.
The fall of Denethor and the rise of Théoden mirror a broader truth that we would be wise to heed: leadership rooted in alliance offers hope; leadership consumed by isolationism collapses into ruin.
The west faced two enemies: Saruman and Sauron — the alliance of “The Two Towers.” Saruman and Sauron placed their bets on easily beating a politically fractured West. Saruman summarizes it well, saying, “The world is changing. Who now has the strength to stand against the armies of Isengard and Mordor? To stand against the might of Sauron and Saruman… the union of The Two Towers.” We can see here that even after abandoning reason for madness, Saruman himself understood the importance of alliances.
What Saruman and Sauron fail to anticipate is the full impact of Aragorn. A lost King of a scattered people, and a ranger in the shadows, Aragorn could have chosen a life of solitude. Instead, he claims his kingship for the greater purpose of renewal. He gathers the remnants of broken alliances: Elves from Mirkwood and Lothlórien, the Army of the Dead, the scattered Dúnedain, and most of all, the faith of men. At Sauron’s Black Gate, he does not fear death. He summons courage by appealing to unity and strength, and challenges the host of Mordor itself.
Aragorn does not wait to be summoned. He becomes the summoner. His leadership is catalytic — one that transforms a collection of isolated peoples into a fellowship of free men and freedom.
Rather than becoming like Aragorn, I fear U.S. leadership has quickly become like Théoden before his awakening — cynical, protective, mistrustful, with a healthy dose of Denethor — convinced that no one will stand with us so we need not stand with them. This mentality couldn’t be more wrong.
Destroying the vast majority of our foreign aid was clearly just the beginning. Look at the exit from the WHO, Ukrainian diplomacy, and visa programs for just three more examples of this new disastrous isolationist policy. If we take things seriously, we must prepare for a world where the United States abandons even NATO itself.
The lesson of the West is not and cannot be mere fantasy. It is a reminder. In the future, when the White City is burning, when the hosts of Mordor march to destroy all that we hold dear, the question is not whether to engage. The question is when — and whether we will be too late.
For Mordor is not mere myth. “Sauron’s wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift. The battle for Helm’s Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin.”