Recently, my daughter and I escaped to Middle Earth, enjoying a big-screen showing of “The Fellowship of the Ring.” Beneath the epic battles and breathtaking landscapes, J.R.R. Tolkien explores immutable truths: the strength found in unity, the corrupting nature of power and the enduring light of hope in the face of darkness.
At the heart of Tolkien’s tale lies the One Ring, an object of immense power that corrupts all who seek to wield it — even the noblest fall prey to its seduction. Tolkien reminds us that power, no matter how well-intentioned, must be handled with caution and humility — or not at all.
The Fellowship — Hobbits, men, an elf, a dwarf and a wizard — represents a fragile yet powerful alliance. Despite their differences, they stood together for a common cause. Their strength came not from might, but from trust, loyalty and selflessness. They exemplify that unity across differences is not weakness; it is the key to survival.
The world they faced was on the brink of collapse, replete with overwhelming evil. And yet, the Fellowship endured because they believed their actions still mattered. Their constant hope, however small, became their most powerful weapon.
While watching this movie, I couldn’t help but think about how America’s founding is its own tale of power — how to fight it, how to wield it and how to restrain it.
The revolution for independence rose in defiance of a distant and oppressive monarch. Scarred by the trauma caused by this centralized authority, the Founders first established the Articles of Confederation, only to find that power, when too weak, invites inaction. The nascent union was fracturing.
Thus began America’s “second founding,” this time with a better understanding of power. The Constitutional Convention sought to build a federal government strong enough to govern, but limited enough not to oppress. The Founders understood what Tolkien showed: unchecked power destroys. So they split it between three branches. They sought to keep most power with the people as they distributed power across state and federal lines, between chambers, and among an array of elected and appointed officials. And they balanced it through checks and accountability. James Madison, in The Federalist Papers, wisely understood that “ambition must be made to counteract ambition.”
Likewise, George Washington warned, “Government is not reason; it is not eloquence. It is force. And force, like fire, is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.”
But today, that fire rages largely unchecked.
Congress has ceded much of its authority to the executive branch, regardless of controlling party. They pass broad, vague laws that hand unelected bureaucrats sweeping powers with little oversight. We all want clean air and water — but not accompanied with the cost of arbitrary regulations that trample property rights and cripple the economy. Presidents increasingly push the limits of their power, while the courts vacillate — at times enabling that overreach, at others timidly checking it. The Founders intentionally built Congress as the strongest branch, but wisely shared power between its House and Senate — between the people’s representatives and the states’. Yet now, Congress often acts as a cheerleader for one president or another, unwilling to check their “team’s” presidential exercise of power.
Too many Americans no longer see power as dangerous, only alarming when wielded by their political opponents. We forget that any power we hand to “our team” today can become a weapon in someone else’s hand tomorrow. And that power is extremely difficult to reclaim.
As we celebrate Constitution Day this Sept. 17, we should remember why the Founders feared concentrated power — whether in the hands of a king or president, the government, or even ourselves. Lord Acton warned, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Tolkien showed it through story: the Ring’s power tempted all, and only the strength of the Fellowship kept darkness at bay.
So let’s not forget — liberty doesn’t defend itself from overreaching power. It still takes a fellowship: ours.