Bad Steward, Bad Father
Dad Lessons from Denethor, Steward of Gondor.
“He uses others as his weapons. So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons?” ~Denethor The Return of The King by JRR Tolkien
Who owns your kids?
You and their mother?
The state?
The obvious answer is nobody. Owning people is wrong. Yet some of our historical references, and the way we use language bend our thoughts toward that type of attitude.
It’s easy to say, “my kids” the same way we would say, “my car.”
We would all agree there’s a deeper and different meaning to the phrase when it comes to relationships. It’s not as simple as mere possession. But subconsciously, we might begin to act as if we own them if we aren’t paying attention.
A healthier, and I think more biblical view, is to see your children as a trust. They are a blessing, yes, but also a responsibility.
As a parent, you have been entrusted with their stewardship.
You are tasked with training and teaching them toward a virtuous maturity.
But as we will see in Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, from Tolkien’s masterwork, The Lord of The Rings—it is easy for a steward to misuse or misconstrue his responsibility.
Let’s not be that dad.
The Steward Who Thought Himself a Lord.
We are introduced to Denethor through a warning from Gandalf to Pippin. Gandalf describes Gondor’s leader as "proud and subtle, a man of greater lineage and power." Gandalf's point of comparison is King Theoden from Rohan, whom he describes as "a kindly old man" in contrast.
As the wizard and the hobbit enter the throne room of Gondor, the steward matches Gandalf’s depiction, though he sits far beneath the empty throne towering above his position.
Denethor’s lineage has blessed him with intelligence, competence, strength, and deep insight.
The weight of a great heritage and the cares of a kingdom weigh upon his shoulders.
The threat of a world-ending war multiplies his pains.
But the combination of noble history and high ability leads him to pride. He is proud of his position and his skills, so much that he believes he and his sons are worthy of the throne that sits above him.
He is tempted to covet the authority that his forefathers were denied. He succumbs.
Ultimately, he speaks as if he deserves to be king because he and his ancestors have carried the responsibility of ruling for son long. He forgets that holding a position is not the same as deserving it. If you doubt that truth, consider how many men are technically fathers, but haven’t spent a day of their lives being a father.
The pride and loneliness of high office lead Denethor to arrogance. He behaves as if he were the only one with wisdom enough to save his people. He refuses counsel from other wise sources, constantly comparing his own knowledge against older and sager men like Gandalf. He even believes the enemy has special consideration for him because he leads Gondor.
Even worse, Denethor holds dangerous secrets. In the solitude of his highest tower, he tries to wrestle with the will of the enemy alone.
Denethor’s whole life and identity are wrapped up and focused on his position and the responsibilities that rest on him. He sees himself as the only one with any potential to rise to the occasion and overcome the threats that face him, his family, and his nation.
In that capacity, he constantly broods on the future, though his vision of it is tainted by lies from Sauron.
As I said in the first article of this series, Denethor might be equated with the workaholic in our world. His whole life is centered around the strain of his obligations and his status. He is constantly worried about the unknown future. In his ambition, the only welcome prospect is one in which his sons follow in his footsteps.
Even better if they outmatch him.
This, of course, removes their role as sons. They become tools of his ego and ambition. They become subjects.
Treating Children as Subjects
In service to the primacy of his own ambitions, Denethor abuses his relationship with his sons. He saddles them with high demands—impossibly high—without the benefit of familial love. He sacrifices his sons willingly, seemingly without pity, seeing them only as part of his own legacy.
Denethor is a demanding father who is pleased with nothing but perfection.
Worse, he nurtures a blatant favoritism with no regard for the character of each son. To Boromir, who seeks glory and demands more noteworthy missions, the father relents. In his ignorance of the threat, Denethor sends the braver but more reckless son straight to the thing that will tempt him to death. He sends the pure warrior to a counsel that requires wisdom.
For Faramir, the intelligent and educated son, Denethor gives the task of a simple sword hand. He spurns Faramir’s counsel, demanding that the more cunning son hold a crumbling fortress against an overwhelming flood of monsters. They both know it’s an impossible task.
The steward's favoritism takes no heed of where each of his sons’ unique skills would be most useful in the war. His actions show that he desires most to give the favorite son what he wants—what would potentially bring him the most honor in the kingdom.
It happens to be what would most serve Denethor’s own ends.
The death of Boromir only exacerbates the favoritism. In his grief, Denethor openly admits that he would have preferred the younger brother dead.
The steward treats his sons as pieces on the chessboard of power. One he values like a general, the other like a common conscript. They are his tools, like any other subject. He explains it to Pippin in the quote at the top, admitting that all great lords use others as weapons, even to the point of “spending their sons.”
This comment deepens the point that his own self-perception is that he is one of the great lords and that his sons are best used toward his ends and his own glory. He stewards them just as poorly as the nation he thinks he deserves to rule.
Tragically, Denethor is the last one to recognize his folly. Even the people see that he places impossible burdens on his son Faramir, expecting him to do the work of both brothers after Boromir’s death. The citizens recognize the tragedy of sending your own son into an unwinnable fight. The “wise” lord does so with scorn.
Faramir: “If I should return, think better of me!”
Denethor: “That depends on the manner of your return.”
Seeing Too Late
Like many demanding, workaholic fathers, Denethor recognizes his folly when he has no chance to change it.
When Faramir returns wounded, his fatherly love is kindled. He grieves over both of his sons and watches over the one still clinging to life.
But between the self-important image he has constructed for himself and the lies he has been fed by Sauron, he breaks. He loses all hope. Rather than face their potential destruction with his sons beside him, Denethor “spent” them.
He cannot handle that reality.
The madness of his grief drives him to burn himself and Faramir to death before the war can. It's only through Pippin's intervention that Faramir is saved.
Many high achieving fathers with high expectations for their children are prone to similar follies and recognize only too late that their poor stewardship over their children has both damaged the relationship—potentially beyond repair—and wounded their children unnecessarily.
To be somewhat fair to Denethor, his choices were made in the midst of an existential threat. He was in the middle of a war that would wipe out everything he ever knew. That's bound to increase your stress and lead to some poor decisions.
But the way he discusses the long service of the stewards and the way he describes himself as a lord, leads me to think that his pride and arrogance existed before the war broke out. That makes me think he was always prone to treat his sons as subjects and pawns in his own machinations.
If we look so highly on our own careers and ambitions that we treat our children as he did, that only makes us lesser men than he was, for most of us are simply facing the challenges of everyday living or the struggle with our own ambitions, and not the destruction of everything we hold dear.
It does no good to say you’re working for your family if your work never allows time and energy for your family. As challenging as it may be, avoid that trap.
On a side note, I find it intriguing that the only places where we see father-son relationships within the Lord of the Rings are in the chapters in Gondor, the primary city of men. Elrond has two sons, but we only see him interact with his daughter. Theoden’s son is already dead in battle, but he has adopted his sister’s children (and we’ll address him later in this series). The other men—even Bilbo—have no children present in the story, though many take on fatherly roles toward younger characters.
Here in Gondor, we see Denethor in his pride. And through Pippin’s eyes, we see Beregond, a guard of the citadel, and his son, Bergil—both brave enough to face the coming siege together with courage, hope, hospitality, and love.
The contrast is stark.
How To Fail as a Steward and Father
Step one: Treat your career or job as the most important thing in your life.
Let most of your thoughts be directed toward your work, your title and status, your importance, etc.
Worry about the future. Hold such a deep concern over the potential darkness you see waiting ahead of you that you are willing to sacrifice anything to avoid it.
At the same time, be prideful. Believe that you are strong, capable, and wise enough to meet all challenges—then convince yourself you are the only person who could possibly meet the challenge and that any advice, counsel, or help that others might have is beneath your consideration.
Step two: Subordinate your children’s future to your own.
They are your legacy, after all, and if you are the only one capable of managing the threat, then they need to live up to your greatness.
Don't consider their personal skills or talents.
Don't think about their unique makeup and how their destiny could take them on a different path.
Prepare them to be just like you. Train them to think just like you and do things the way you would do them. It’s the only acceptable way.
Step three: Pick a favorite.
At every turn, offer the favorite more opportunity, more resources, and more promises of greatness. Let the other kids fight for the scraps of your attention and the chance to meet your demands.
Step four: Never let them earn your approval.
Even though you have a favorite, they should never quite feel like they're able to measure up to your expectations. Yes, give them the opportunities and the resources to do what you want from them—but even when you offer praise or accolades, sprinkle in some disappointment and doubt.
For all your children, constantly dangle the promise of your love and approval if they will do what pleases you. But never express gratitude, appreciation, or recognition if they complete your request.
By no means should you express pride in their accomplishments. Each accomplishment must be downplayed with higher expectations.
Step five: Wall yourself off from emotional connection as long as possible. Accept only respect and honor from your children. Do not offer or receive affection.
Step six: Take on the enemy alone.
Ignore all the help available through friends, family, church, books, articles, etc. Fight against all the things that threaten your family in your own power and wisdom.
When the fight gets too hard and stresses you out, lash out with snarky and hurtful comments.
In summary of all points, lord it over your children and hide the fact that it's hurting you—even from yourself.
It’s Never Too Late
Perhaps you’ve been a cold and calculating father, like Denethor. It doesn’t have to stay that way.
Cherish your children as a gift, and take the responsibility for their development seriously.
Rather than accomplishments, set a high standard for their character and virtue. Living a life of virtue and integrity is something every kid has the potential to achieve. It gives you plenty of opportunity to offer genuine praise and reduces the stress in the family.
And in the long run, you’ll be happier with the result. It’s much easier to keep a close relationship with adult children who are honest, productive, and well-adjusted. It’s the kids raised to be like Denethor that ditch their parents as soon as they see a little success.
It’s not wrong to set expectations of achievement as well but take your kids’ unique bent into consideration. Help them to achieve according to their potential, not some imaginary wunderkind you wish they were.
All of this is true at any age.
It may be harder to turn it around if you’ve been the overbearing, workaholic type, but you can get back to a good and loving relationship with your kids. It takes effort and time.
You don’t have to be a Denethor.
Articles in this Series:
In addition to Imago Dad, Brandon Wilborn writes fantasy with spiritual themes. His current project is a series for young readers about a dog with an imagination that includes the classic virtues of our Judeo-Christian heritage. To learn more about Brandon’s fiction, visit BrandonWilborn.com