In the captivating narrative of J.R.R. Tolkien’s beloved book, The Hobbit, readers are immersed in a world where good luck seems to favor the protagonist and his friends at every turn of the story. We encounter phrases such as “by some curious chance” and “in the nick of time,” as well as “only by accident” (Tolkien). One might even argue that the book could have been aptly titled The Lucky Hobbit. And this poses the riddle: does this constant stream of luck truly align with an objective understanding of a hero, or does it subtly undermine the concept of heroism? Did Tolkien, in fact, deviate from the objective hero archetype? In this essay, I reiterate and reinforce this question: in what ways is luck an unheroic element in The Hobbit?
Let us begin with a definition. What is a hero? I am going to offer a working definition and then compare that to Tolkien’s implied definition. Namely, I propose that a hero is a virtuous individual of exceptional courage, admired for their brave deeds and noble qualities. A hero is not just respected but revered, for heroes belong to a rare breed, a unique creation. Heroes share in one of the communicative attributes of Christ, designated in the Greek by monogenes (one of a kind). A hero is one of a kind and is only a hero insofar as he exhibits virtues essential to the identity of Jesus. A hero is Christlike.
Readers are captivated by stories that revolve around exceptional individuals and heroes. In his book The DIM Hypothesis: Why the Lights of the West Are Going Out, Leonard Peikoff offers a description of a hero that fits with my proposed definition: “A hero is self-directed, responsible, unflinchingly courageous, and proud of his abilities to be guided by his rational faculty rather than by baseless feelings” (Peikoff). He illuminates how literature should elevate the ideal man and how a hero’s strength is demonstrated in the pursuit of glory (Peikoff). Stories can serve as a conduit for conveying what a hero is and how a hero acts, and they allow us to observe the appropriate responses of supporting characters. Literature can accentuate and portray the hero by contrasting him with cowards, antagonists, and every kind of anti-hero imaginable. What is not can illuminate what is.
Every situation and character in a story can serve to reveal the attributes and essence of heroism. The presence of imminent danger and daring escapes not only captivate but also teach. They may even inspire us to confront our own trials with more bravery. It is worth special acknowledgment that heroes kindle our aspiration to strive for excellence. As C.S. Lewis eloquently expresses in his essay “On Three Ways of Writing for Children,” “Since it is so likely that [children] will encounter cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise, you are making their destiny not brighter but darker” (Lewis). We yearn for heroes, both in real life and in our narratives, as they ignite a spark of inspiration within us. Bilbo does none of this.
Bilbo is mostly just lucky, and as luck cannot be a standard of ethical behavior fit for imitation, he does not make a man yearn to emulate his motives or actions. There are moments where Bilbo has the courage that C.S. Lewis touches upon, but not from a motive fit for replication, and the poor hobbit shows little or nothing of Peikoff’s pride in being “guided by his rational faculty rather than by baseless feeling.” In the case of Tolkien’s furry-footed hole dweller, untutored feelings are the best explanation of why the adventure started. Maybe Bilbo left his hole from boredom or fear of missing out, but nothing as structured as a mental commitment to a cause that required unflinching courage. Bilbo, at any moment, could have turned around without shame, except that he signed a contract. But there was nothing in his core compulsion related to justice that drove him east of the Shire.
One might object: “It’s just a children’s story.” But this is why C.S. Lewis’s quote is so important. A children’s story is exactly the place where a child ought to be prepared for adult motivations that lead to heroism. Any rejection of this thesis on the grounds that The Hobbit is just a silly tale for kids may explain why Leonard Peikoff subtitled his book Why the Lights of the West Are Going Out.
This leaves us with the thesis that the protagonists in The Hobbit are lucky rather than heroic. When we compare a hero’s defining nature to Tolkien’s main characters and their encounters with luck, we find lucky characters with little or nothing to do with being heroic. They had motives, but not rationally determined, noble motives. The dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield, set off to reclaim what they believed was rightfully theirs while employing a burglar to do all the sneaking and spying for them. The fact that Gandalf was not compelled to participate in every step of the journey reveals that he was under no sense of justice that backed the cause. Rather, Smaug had conquered the hoard as a bed to lie upon, and many years later, some much smaller dragons with beards were driven to the hoard by treasure fever. If the mountain had collapsed, empty of halls and rooms and value, holding only a dragon, would they still go to bring dwarven justice? One thinks not. Otherwise they would have gone looking for a dragon slayer and would have had no need of a professional burglar.
Likewise, consider Bilbo as a potential hero. He participates in the journey under the guise of a jewel thief while being an inherently unadventurous hobbit, bumbling through each point of the story. He accidentally finds a magic ring that works independently of actual rational skill and functions rather like a permanent good luck charm. Perhaps Smaug is the true hero, having gained his plundered wealth with more bravery than Bilbo and the dwarves, and perhaps dragon justice explains Smaug’s original motive. Where are the heroes? Even Gandalf admitted that he could not find one, because they were busy fighting in distant lands (Tolkien). There was nothing heroic in the dwarves’ goal that required a hero, and barely even Gandalf, who often went missing, only to show up later as a deus ex machina when Tolkien wrote his characters into a corner. Deus ex machina is a literary term meaning the author resorted to an artificial or contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty. It is Latin for “god from the machine.” It is not heroism.
Aristotle also gives us insight. He said, “Since we praise a man for what he has done, and fine actions are distinguished from others by being intentionally good, we must try to prove that our hero’s noble acts are intentional” (Aristotle 1569). A hero is not lucky or unlucky. He is intrinsically motivated by the good and acts for the good. His victories are not by chance but based on justice, which fuels his preparedness, strength, and skill. Gandalf openly acknowledges that luck is not just a factor but a crucial element in their success on this adventure. He says, “I always meant to see you all safe, if possible, over the mountains… and now, by good management and good luck, I have done it” (Tolkien). This emphasis on luck’s role in the narrative is a crucial point of departure from Peikoff’s definition of heroism.
Rational men don’t make decisions based on luck. They don’t factor it into their plans as a condition of success. This is natural to their everyday lives and their work. No one counts on luck, but we do count on virtue. Luck is not intrinsic.
Furthermore, creation works by the laws of nature, not by luck. Luck is inconsistent with how creation works by design, nor does the scientific mind operate on improbability, augmented by the hope of luck, but functions on the principles of predictability and regularity in nature. Facts are not lucky, but they are measurable. Luck is not calculating or empirical but whimsical and accidental. No one depends on luck, but we do depend on virtue. A hero may encounter luck in an unexpected way, but he does not expect it, and he is not driven by it. The definition of chance, synonymous with luck, states that it is “the absence of any cause or series of causes or events as they happen that can be predicted, understood, or controlled” (Random House Dictionary of the English Language, 1973).
Given that luck is a result of chance and not a result of one’s own efforts or abilities, it is a non sequitur in relation to heroism. Luck is an unheroic element in The Hobbit because it is not heroic. Luck is to heroism as purple is to cat. They do not stand in a relationship to one another suitable for logical comparison. A villain may be lucky, independent of any held virtue. And a hero may be unlucky at times, which is not anti-heroic. If luck makes a man a hero, does bad luck make him a monster? One can see why luck is a non sequitur in the definition of a hero. Likewise, luck is not a noteworthy outcome of a hero’s experience. Anyone can have good or bad luck. It is unrelated to a hero’s defining nature, meaning the categories of hero and luck are not related. To ask in what ways luck is unheroic is like asking in what ways any subjective topic is measurable. It isn’t. Luck is not heroic because it is accidental. A character can be unlucky and still be a hero, which proves that luck is an unheroic element in The Hobbit. Heroism is essential, and luck is at most a minor feature of life.
Having disentangled luck and heroism as distinct subjects, consider Bernstein, in his book Heroes, Legends and Champions: Why Heroism Matters, quoting the philosopher Sidney Hook to good effect: “An event-making man [hero] takes the momentous actions he does not merely because of luck, happenstance, or favorable circumstance but by virtue of wisdom, courage, and strength of character” (Bernstein, Hook). He explains further that a hero is great not merely in virtue of what he does but in virtue of what he is (Bernstein). No one becomes a virtuous person by accident, and this is the ultimate reason luck is unheroic in The Hobbit. It is insulting to assert that a virtuous hero relies on luck to accomplish heroic acts.
A downgrade trend in fantasy literature is the rise of the luck-based hero (cf. the popular Harry Potter series and the entire Marvel and DC franchises). This trend in storytelling is disconcerting, as authors present twisted versions of the ideal, constituting a corrosive distortion of heroism. These pseudo-heroes, often despicable and morally ambiguous, fall short of inspiring. The lucky pseudo-hero trend is less than ideal, and worse, the man regarded as a model of bravery must be destroyed in the name of promoting this new breed of non-exceptional hero, a hero that anyone, with a little luck, may become. This fits the spirit of the age: equality, where, for example, beauty is not fair to the ugly, and exceptionalism is not fair to the impoverished.
Tolkien was likely not motivated by equality as such, but nothing in his philosophical commitments is antithetical to it. His characters are still popular in our day, embraced by a generation that loves the lucky hero, since nothing about Tolkien’s characters is fundamentally at odds with the now-ubiquitous version of the lucky hero. In her book Antihero, Jennifer Anderson describes these modern versions of heroes: “They are neither good nor bad” (Anderson). This is how one might define the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, Smaug, the Elvenking, Bard, Beorn, Elrond, and Gollum.
In conclusion, there is only one ideal man, Jesus. He is a hero, and he is God. Therefore, heroism is godism. He had integrity all the way to the point of death, and there were no accidents or chance happenings, because he laid down his life voluntarily. His journey secured all value throughout all human history and beyond. And his word is evidence that heroes are to be recorded and remembered for their faithfulness and rational courage. These stories in the Bible give us great courage and inspire us to imitate Christ. In fact, stories without godlikeness drive the narrative dark, flat, and uninspiring. We read books and watch movies to be inspired by heroic storytelling. Heroism is the bedrock of storytelling. The good news is that heroism cannot be divorced from Christology. Indeed, to name a hero by chance might be a form of idolatry, since everything is Christology. Anti-Christ is anti-hero, and naming a hero apart from being Christlike is unheroic. After all, no one wants our heroes living on luck, not even in charming stories written for children.
Works Cited
Anderson, Jennifer J. Antihero, Essential Literary Themes. Abdo Publishing, 2016, p. 11.
Aristotle. The Basic Works of Aristotle. The Modern Library, 2001.
Bernstein, Andrew. “What is a Hero?” Chapter Three, Heroes, Legends, Champions: Why Heroism Matters. Union Square Publishing, 2019, pp. 35–50.
Britannica, “Art and Culture,” https://www.britannica.com/art/deus-ex-machina.
Lewis, C.S. “On Three Ways of Writing for Children.” Kindle, 1947, p. 857.
Peikoff, Leonard. “Literature.” Chapter Five, The DIM Hypothesis: Why the Lights of the West Are Going Out. Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 2013, pp. 81–105.
Tolkien, J.R.R. “Queer Lodgings.” Chapter Seven, The Hobbit or There and Back Again. William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins, 1995, pp. 105–129.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit or There and Back Again. William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins, 1995.
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