I have lamented elsewhere on Hollywood Jesus that Peter Jackson's The Two Towers presented a somewhat “less noble” Faramir than Tolkien's, and have also granted that the Extended Edition of Towers restores some of the character's honor. In Jackson in Perspective, I also include a fairly extended treatment of how Jackson takes Tolkien's archetypal characters—Faramir, for a particular example—and transforms them into more conventional, conflicted modern heroes.

Yet in all the words expended on this website regarding the Steward of Gondor and his sons, I have yet to deal specifically with Faramir's conflict: one of loyalty. Though the Extended Towers makes it clear that Faramir is perhaps the most thoughtful, reflective moral agent in Jackson's Middle-earth, we still find a perplexing—and defining—moment at the conclusion of the The Two Towers: when, having been convinced that Frodo and Sam must bear the burden of the Ring toward Mordor, Faramir defies the law of the land and sets the Hobbits free. “You know the laws of our country, the laws of your father,” Madril tells him. “If you let them go your life will be forfeit.” But Faramir's mind is set. “Then it is forfeit,” he replies. “Release them!”

In this day and age, of course, we're quite accustomed to ethical ambiguity. That old “stop sign in the middle of nowhere” dilemma furnishes so many classrooms with earnest (perhaps too earnest) discussion. So Faramir's disobedience in this instance is not so remarkable, perhaps. After all, if we can choose to ignore stop signs when it seems ethically justifiable, what's the big deal with Faramir making a clearly sound moral choice, particulary when he's willing to put his life on the line to defend that choice?

The big deal, of course, is not that it is (nor necessarily should be) a big deal for us. The kicker is that it's a huge deal for Faramir himself, as The Return of the King makes plain. Faramir has sworn allegiance to his city and its Steward, who just happens to be his father. It's an allegiance not taken lightly, and when his loyalty to that allegiance is challenged, he rides vainly and near-suicidally back into Osgiliath to gain his father's respect. We can learn a few lessons from Faramir's loyalty.

First, Faramir is wise enough to know that allegiance cannot be divided. The American Heritage Dictionary notes that fidelity, fealty and loyalty are synonomous with “allegiance.” It goes on to note that “these nouns denote faithfulness” and imply “the unfailing fulfillment of one's duties and obligations and strict adherence to vows or promises.” Allegiance, for Faramir, is not a thing to be pledged at ball games and ignored whenever he finds the law inconvenient; nor would it be thinkable in Faramir's world to pledge allegiance to a national flag one minute and then to a religious flag in the next. In battle, you can only follow one flag, not two. As Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.”

Most of us, though, want to have our cake and eat it, too. We want the benefits that even a ninety-pound weakling's pledge of allegiance will bring, yet without making the sacrifices that such a pledge often demands. We reserve the right to opt out of our pledge when the going gets tough, or when the leaders (or the laws) aren't to our liking. The heroes of the past, though, say “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Do your business or get off the pot. Faramir gets down to business.

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