The Iran war is the theater for the most expansive use of Artificial Intelligence (AI) platforms to date. Some have even called it the “AI War.” Of the five leading AI programs employed in the war, two take their names from J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. The most important of those platforms is Palantír, which raises the question of whether Tolkien would approve. Many would undoubtedly say, “Of course not! He would hate it!”

　　This leads to a second question, namely, whether Tolkien would approve of the use of AI itself in military activity. The reflexive answer may be the same: “Of course not! He would hate it!” Disregarding Tolkien’s avoidance of analogies, some might exclaim, “AI is the One Ring!” These opinions, however, may be hasty and in need of qualification. It is true that Tolkien expressed horror upon learning of the bombing of Hiroshima, calling those in the Manhattan Project “lunatic physicists.” One way to address these questions is by looking at Tolkien’s Palantír itself, seeking meaningful principles that might help guide present decisions.

　　The Palantír

　　Peter Thiel chose a curious name for Palantír Technologies, his major software and data-analytics company, although the AI platform designed for the government is more precisely the “Maven Smart System” (MSS). It is presently the military’s core battlefield management software featured in the Middle East conflict. The “Palantír,” or the “Seeing Stones,” are a fascinating feature of Tolkien’s opus magnum, The Lord of the Rings (LOTR), as magical orbs that enable their possessors to see distant things. Gandalf defines the mysterious devices as “that which looks far away.” Made by elves in the “Blessed Realm,” they were originally used in the “First Age” for communication and to see things from a distance. But though they are not ineludably malignant, neither are they reliably benign. By the “Third Age,” in which the events of the novel take place, only a few of the Palantír (pl. Palantíri ) remain in use, and they are now likely to be employed in ways the Elves did not intend.

　　Though the Seeing Stones show real objects or events, they may do so selectively. Like a Middle-earth version of “FaceTime,” they enable individuals to see one another and communicate—but only those of a “great strength of will” dare to use them, and even they might do so at their peril.The Seeing Stones were at times an unreliable guide to action, since what was not shown could be more important than what was selectively presented. In LOTR, a Palantír has fallen into the Enemy’s hands (Sauron), making the use of all other existing stones hazardous.

　　Pippin, the impulsive but well-meaning hobbit, demonstrates the danger when he furtively uncovers one of the Stones and is terrorized by the evil that toys with him through the device. Gandalf rescues the hapless hobbit before he is damaged irretrievably and entrusts the Palantír to Aragorn, but even Aragorn—the returning king—must be warned: “‘Receive it, lord!” he said: ‘in earnest of other things that shall be given back. But if I may counsel you … do not use it—yet! Be wary!’” Mildly peeved, Aragorn responds, “‘When have I been hasty or unwary, who have waited and prepared for so many long years?’” Gandalf sagaciously answers, “‘Never yet. Do not then stumble at the end of the road … But at the least keep this thing secret.’” In the presence of this beguiling device, even a legendary Númenórean is in peril.

　　To help Pippin understand his harrowing experience, Gandalf further explains the corrupting influence of the Palantíri. When Saruman, Gandalf’s fellow wizard, first obtained one of the mysterious stones, he initially used it in a restrained fashion, but it corrupted him when his fascination outgrew the limits of prudence. Here we can see another feature of the Palantíri: they hold an intense fascination for the curious, but render them highly vulnerable to being manipulated by a more powerful mind. Gandalf explains the missteps that led to Saruman’s downfall:

　　But alone it could do nothing but see small images of things far off and days remote. Very useful, no doubt, that was to Saruman; yet it seems that he was not content. Further and further abroad he gazed, until he cast his gaze upon Barad-dûr. Then he was caught!

　　A similar pattern can be seen in the downfall of Denethor, the steward king of Gondor. Devoted to the cause of Gondor, but also jealous of rival authorities (such as Gandalf and Aragorn), he, too, is vulnerable to deception and manipulation. Sauron subtly shifts what Denethor sees in his Palantír in order to magnify his fears, leading him to despair and inaction; indeed, his despair is so deep that he predicts doom for Middle-earth. He cries, “The West has failed. It shall all go up in a great fire, and all shall be ended.”

　　Not long after, Denethor is destroyed by the Palantír, dying by self-immolation but still clutching the Seeing Stone as he dies. The narrator adds a doleful note: “And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that Stone, unless he had a great strength of will to turn it to other purpose, he saw only two aged hands withering in flame.”

　　Tolkien, War, and Evil

　　Tolkien served in the infantry in WWI; John Garth and others have argued that the experience profoundly shaped his mythology, especially as Tolkien saw first-hand the mechanization and senselessness of the conflict. Tolkien’s assignment to the 11th Battalion of the Lancashire Fusiliers made a deep impact on him, as it would on anyone who lost most of his close friends in the conflict. WWI was the first major conflict to feature the use of mechanized vehicles—tanks, armored cars and rudimentary airplanes—in combat. The introduction of automatic machine guns, high-explosive shells, chemical weapons, grenades, mortars, and incendiary rounds made a massive impact on warfare, multiplying its devastation exponentially.

　　He barely survived the wholesale human slaughter and environmental devastation at the Somme, where he was assigned. Millions of artillery shells and heavy machinery churned the once-idyllic French countryside into a scarred, muddy wasteland of shell craters, collapsed trenches, and shattered forests. Those scenes seem eerily similar to the landscape of Mordor in the third part of The Lord of the Rings, “The Return of the King.”The anthropomorphic Treebeard says of the turncoat wizard Saruman, “He has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for growing things.” Back in Oxfordshire, though Tolkien owned two cars, he drove poorly, and ultimately abandoned driving altogether after World War II, which he ruefully dubbed “The War of the Machines.”He feared unchecked industrial intrusion into the idyllic regions of England.

　　Tolkien’s epic contains warnings aplenty about the Palantír, but as Aragorn’s anticipated adoption of the Palantír attests, warnings are not prohibitions.

　　It would be a mistake, however, to say that Tolkien viewed war as necessarily evil. The LOTR and his correspondence suggest that Tolkien followed the Thomistic Just War Theory, although he would locate himself on the more conservative end of the theory’s spectrum. On more than one occasion, Faramir seems to speak for Tolkien, as in this passage, when he says,“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”

　　Tolkien, likewise, did not love war, even as he recognized its necessity in some circumstances. In a letter to his son Christopher in 1944, Tolkien condemned the “utter stupid waste of war he added, however, that in the past, present, and future, it is “necessary to face it in an evil world.”

　　Indeed, The Lord of the Rings is shot through with unambiguous references to evil. The quest of the Fellowship is to confront and overcome evil. Tolkien is not merely addressing “evil men” or “evil deeds,” but “evil,” having an identity of its own; he employs “evil” as a noun, not merely as an adjective.

　　The author sets the tone early in the saga:

　　It seemed that the evil power in Mirkwood had been driven out … only to reappear in greater strength in the old strongholds of Mordor. The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From there the power was spreading far and wide, and away far east and south there were wars and growing fear. Orcs were multiplying again in the mountains. Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but cunning and armed with dreadful weapons. And there were murmured hints of creatures more terrible than all these, but they had no name.

　　Aragorn warns, “There is evil afoot … and the West is no longer safe.”

　　The fight, moreover, is ongoing. Aragorn explains, “Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. … Hardly has our strength sufficed to beat off the first great assault. The next will be greater.”

　　What Would Tolkien Say?

　　The use of Tolkien’s Elvish word “Palantír” for AI platforms is somewhat ironic. He disliked Walt Disney and was offended by the way Disney took morally significant mythological stories and cheapened them to serve as superficial amusements. Given the chance, Tolkien may have even objected to the Peter Jackson movies, especially if they are a substitute for reading the books—which, of course, for many, they are. It seems unlikely he would tolerate any commercialization of his work in a military context.

　　The second question is more complex than it first appears. Even if he were unenthused about it, might Tolkien have accepted the necessity of AI? He likely would have been dismayed at its emergence, but his understanding of evil was keen enough that he also might admit that those armed with AI for perverse purposes must either be disarmed or countered with equivalent measures. The latter is far more feasible than the former. Common sense suggests that those first equipped with sophisticated AI models are at an advantage. 

　　In the letter to his son Christopher in which Tolkien condemns the “lunatic physicists,” he makes an important concession that may be overlooked. After his condemnation of the bomb, he concedes, “But one good thing may arise out of it, I suppose, if the write-ups are not overheated: Japan ought to cave in” (August 9, 1945). In other words, despite his distaste, Tolkien did still hope that the atomic bomb would produce the capitulation of imperial Japan, driven by its Bushido code and the brutal tactics so horrifically demonstrated in its pre-war invasion of Nanking and in the shocking treatment of kidnapped American soldiers on, for example, Chichi Jima.

　　It is noteworthy if not a little surprising that, in the final chapters of LOTR, Gandalf announced to Pippin that Aragorn would keep the last remaining Palantír as it would facilitate his reign over Middle-earth “to see what is passing in his realm, and what his servants are doing.” The Palantír was useful in governance, in the right hands. It was, moreover, useful in battle. In an interesting plot twist, Aragorn uses the Palantír to show himself to Sauron, sowing uncertainty and creating the diversion that Frodo and Sam need to complete their own quest. In a sense, Aragorn beats Sauron at his own game, using the Palantír to manipulate his perception, plant doubt, and influence his strategic calculations. Evidently, Tolkien does not see this as intrinsically wrong. In correspondence, Tolkien called Aragorn the Palantír’s “rightful owner.”

　　Tolkien’s epic contains warnings aplenty about the Palantír, but as Aragorn’s anticipated adoption of the Palantír attests, warnings are not prohibitions. To say that Tolkien would oppose AI because the advent of nuclear power horrified him may be shortsighted. Such weapons should horrify us all. But is all of this discussion of AI pointless? Are we facing AI-driven, inescapable human extinction? Perhaps. Tolkien did fear that the “War of the Machines” would be followed by ever-more powerful machines, the possible consequences of which concerned him.

　　In his recent forum lead here at Law Liberty, Spencer Klavan persuasively argued that the character of AI is, and will be, a reflection of human virtues and vices: “The good and the bad news is, we’re in charge.” Rachel Lomasky agrees and adds the obvious: AI programs can perform certain necessary tasks far better than a human ever could—and without the subjectivity that colors so much of human behavior. And if an AI program evinces bias, algorithms can be modified. Not so with human beings.

　　If there is one overriding theme in LOTR, it is that destiny is driven by human hands, if they are willing to assume that difficult responsibility. Early in Tolkien’s saga, Elrond Half-elven observes, “Such is the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.”