Musonius Rufus, Lectures 8.8

In general it is of the greatest importance for the good king to be faultless and perfect in word and action, if, indeed, he is to be a "living law" as he seemed to the ancients, effecting good government and harmony, suppressing lawlessness and dissension, a true imitator of Zeus and, like him, the father of his people.

But how could anyone be such a king if he were not endowed with a superior nature, given the best possible education, and possessed of all the virtues that befit a man?

If, then, there is any other knowledge which guides man's nature to virtue and teaches him to practice and associate with the good, it should be placed beside philosophy and compared with it to see whether it or philosophy is better and more capable of producing a good king. Then the man who wished to become a good king would be wise to use the better one. 

I know full well that I am completely out of the popular loop, and I have known it for some time. For example, I don’t want efficient bureaucrats as leaders; I want people of character to show me the way.

I have to be very careful, however, not to succumb to my own romanticism. I was raised with a strong sense of monarchism, with a love for the old Habsburg emperors on my Austrian side, and a love for the old Stuart kings on my Irish side.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that the heroes of legend were not always the best of men in reality, but there was still something about it all that stuck with me. Was it just the weight of sentimental habit?

I think there is a bit more to it than that, and I would dare to suggest that what makes a king different from an administrator is the nature of the bond he shares with those he rules.

All weepy nostalgia for the noble past aside, the bond between a monarch and his subjects can still be one of personal loyalty, while the bond between a politician and his voters can rarely rise above an impersonal conformity to the balance of popular power.

I believe I first read Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings when I was about ten years old, and the things I loved about it then are very different than the things I love about it now. I have now read the series of books every year, just around Christmas, for more years than I care to mention, and something slowly crept up on me over those years: the story of Aragorn really stands at the center of it all.

Here was a man who had royal blood, who had a hereditary right to rule over Gondor, but that alone did not make him a king. No, he had to prove himself, not just as a mighty warrior, or as some wise sage, but as a man who was willing to offer all of himself, every little bit, to save his people.

Once he did that, he deserved to be the heir of Elendil. Aragorn was entitled to nothing by default, but he had to win respect by the merit of his actions. As a dear old friend of mine once put it, the blood in his own veins was not as important as how much of his own blood he was willing to spill.

Yes, yes, my fellow Tolkien geeks will argue with me about this, and the other sane folks will simply roll their eyes. Yes, it is all fantasy and myth. But fantasy and myth are reality made large, and if you asked me to follow an entitled technocrat with all his credentials, or a grubby wild man with a noble soul, I would not hesitate in my answer.

Why would I say such a silly thing? Because I trust a commitment to virtue, and I question a dependence on expediency. Give me the lover of truth over the lover of profit. Give me a philosopher, not a player.

“Oh you’re such a silly dreamer! When did Aragorn ever study philosophy? Do you somehow think that a silver spoon will produce a golden character?”

No, Aragorn never received an academic degree, and no, his heritage did not make him who he was. His wisdom came from living his life well, and his qualifications came from putting that life on the line.

None of this is about statistics, or the class struggle, or building up the most lucrative industries. It is about caring for people, for the sake of being people, not for their productivity or utility.

“Well, you’ll never make the world work that way! No one cares about philosophy!”

No, perhaps I won’t change the world, but it isn’t my place to make the whole world work this way or that; it is my place to make myself work this way or that.

You are mistaken, though, in claiming that no one cares about philosophy. I care about philosophy. I assure you that there are many others who do as well, even as they aren’t interested in making a scene about it.

They go about their business, and they are the stuff of kings. 

Written in 9/1999