How to Find the Right Ladder: Reflecting on Aaron Renn's Post on Social Status

Aaron Renn created a great deal of discussion on X when he posted about how to attain social status. Here is a link to his entire post as well as his expansion and follow-up on his website, but in summary, he rightly acknowledges that choices have consequences. He shares how he went to Indiana University, but it did not open up the same opportunities that trying to pursue undergraduate studies at Harvard University would have. The choices further branch at every major juncture, but the overall gist of his argument is that you need to start making certain choices early if it is your ambition to climb into the more elite segments of society.

At its root, he is obviously right. I faced a similar juncture in my life. I am from a small town in Vermont. I went to a public high school in Vermont that does not regularly place bunches of students into the Ivy League. I was accepted at Dartmouth College, but I ultimately decided to attend the University of Vermont as they offered me a full tuition scholarship, whereas the lower financial aid at Dartmouth would have led me to incur a great deal of debt. At the time, I do remember thinking about the potential advantages that graduating from the Ivy League institution would provide over my state university, but I also knew my own personal situation and questions of personal care would probably dictate many of the choices I made after graduation. Consequently, my choices would likely be better if I had as little debt as possible, and I graduated with none. However, I still wonder sometimes what would have happened to me had I studied at Dartmouth. Maybe nothing. Maybe I would not have been able to effectively tap into the exclusive network that an Ivy League degree allows you at least an audience with. Who knows? It is hard to speculate. Like Renn, I ended up on a more ordinary track for someone from a small town and public high school in Vermont, attending our state university.

When I first read Renn’s post, I was conflicted and wrote as much on X. I felt like his post seemed prescriptive, suggesting that everyone ought to be making choices purely with climbing the social ladder in mind. Again, he is obviously right that whether we like it or not, we are always on a social ladder. We don’t always like to think of our interactions in terms of hierarchy, but it is self-evident that any choice we make influences how those around us perceive us. It can be for better or worse, but that vertical movement is what he is talking about when he suggests we are on a social ladder. As a result, I was initially confused, but he clarified in his follow-up post that the primary question that we should be asking is, “Are you picking the right ladders for what you want to achieve?”

This is where I want to expand because it relates to one of my favorite authors who had much to say about vocation. J.R.R. Tolkien presents readers with a world full of hierarchies and people who only find fulfillment when they step into their designated place. Here I will quote extensively from an article I originally published in An Unexpected Journal entitled, “The Heroism of the Ordinary in The Lord of the Rings.”

My essay focuses on Samwise Gamgee, and it is worth considering where he is first introduced in the text.

In the first dialogue of The Fellowship of the Ring, Sam’s father, Hamfast, shares some advice with his friends that he claims to have told Sam. “Elves and Dragons! I says to him. Cabbages and potatoes are better for me and you. Don’t go getting mixed up in the business of your betters, or you’ll land in trouble too big for you, I says to him.”  This attitude is somewhat apparent in Sam, but there is some other desire embedded as well. “He had a good deal to think about. For one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But Sam had more on his mind than gardening.”  Immediately before this passage, Sam had been having a conversation with a fellow hobbit about dragons and elves. He is attentive to the mundane, just like his father advised he ought to be to avoid trouble, but he also has his mind set on things beyond the Shire. What other people write off as foolishness, he desires to encounter and experience.

I can identify with this desire, and it sounds like Renn could as well. Although I always had academic and family support to achieve all I could, I also came from an area where dreams are much more ordinary. Central Vermont does not have a track record of producing cultural elites. However, my mind has always been divided between the mundane and high culture, much like Sam's. I was a business administration major as an undergraduate for the very mundane purpose of getting a job and trying to lead as ordinary of a life as I could while simultaneously using the money from that ordinary job to pursue my PhD and engage with the deeper questions found in the humanities.

One of the most intriguing details in The Lord of the Rings is that the purpose of the hobbits being a part of the mission is actually not to destroy the Ring. I know this is a very controversial claim, but let me return to my essay.

Gandalf then provides a tantalizing hint towards the true purpose of The Lord of the Rings right before he leaves the hobbits at the entrance to this Shire that is no longer recognizable. Merry laments that Gandalf cannot join them and help them free their homeland, but Gandalf encourages them in their own ability. “I am not coming to the Shire. You must settle its affairs yourselves; that is what you have been trained for.”[1]

This is a highly significant revelation because Gandalf is implying that the entire journey to destroy the Ring has only been preparation for this, the real mission facing the hobbits. The hobbits need to become the heroes that rescue their ordinary homeland. Stratford Caldecott hypothesizes that this training is vital for the hobbits to be able to handle what they now have to face in the reclamation of their homeland.

The success of the hobbits in dealing with this final peril would not have been possible—would certainly not have been believable—if they had not experienced the epic adventure as a whole, and if we had not seen them transformed into heroes of song and legend; so that when they are plunged back into the banality of the Shire they are able to defeat the evil that they find with the grace—the gifts—that they have received in their travels.[2]

We must always keep in mind who specifically the Shire was saved for because it certainly was not saved for all four hobbits. They do not all return to ordinary lives. Frodo, because of his injuries, realizes that Middle-earth is no longer his home. He tells Sam before his departure from Middle-earth, “I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me.”[3] The Shire is similarly not saved for Merry and Pippin. With the former having pledged service to the kingdom of Rohan and the latter to the kingdom of Gondor, their destinies also stretch beyond the borders of their natural home. The only one to return to his hometown and remain was Sam, who finishes the tale with the line, “Well, I’m back.”[4] The Shire was saved, and it was saved for Sam, the author’s chief hero.

To put this in the framework Renn outlines, Sam’s social ladder was not the same as Aragorn’s. He had no ambitions of becoming the most powerful king in the world. His calling was to return home to his hometown. What is Tolkien trying to say by singling out Sam as his chief hero, but one who certainly did not climb into the social elite beyond occupying the highly ceremonial role of Mayor?

I think Tolkien would ultimately agree with Renn's contention in his follow-up that the right question to ask is whether you are climbing the right ladder. It would not have been appropriate for Sam to become a soldier in the service of Gondor or Rohan. There is nothing wrong with pursuing that aspiration, and to Renn's original post, both Merry and Pippin had to take steps earlier in their story to position themselves for the roles that they later occupied. They couldn't just jump to the positions they earned later on.

I think that, simultaneously, Tolkien chose to elevate Sam precisely because ordinary heroes are often forgotten in our veneration of the elites. I have been involved in apologetics for several years, and I have often talked about how we need to get Christians into elite circles to earn a seat at the big kids' table. I have been to events presented by groups like the Veritas Forum, where the entire point is to present a Christian alternative as a viable intellectual option within our largely secular academy. I still believe there is a great deal of value in trying to influence influential cultural institutions, don't get me wrong. I am not saying that we need to abandon anything that looks elite. However, I think it is easy to become enamored by the elite. It is easy to be tempted to focus so much time and attention on such a small subset of the population that we miss all of the ordinary people right in front of us. In reality, most of us are pretty ordinary people. You are relatively ordinary, and I am relatively ordinary. If someone focused all their time and effort on reaching the elite, I don't think they would be coming for me. As a result, I do feel like the honor of Sam provides a counterbalance and a reminder to all of us that everyone deserves honor, and we ought not forget the ordinary man right in front of us.

With Tolkien's example in mind, how do we know what ladder is right for us? I may think my gifting is to be the President of the United States, and I may try my hardest to make choices as soon as I realize this is my path to move me toward that direction. At the same time, I might honestly not be meant to have that job. My perceived ladder and my actual ladder would be different, which can lead to a great deal of wasted effort and, ultimately, frustration as I cannot achieve the heights that I thought were genuinely my calling.

The first thing to consider is that my perception of my own abilities may be flawed. As a Christian, I believe that the fall influences even my perception of reality. Therefore, I do not always perceive things the way they truly are. Consequently, I need to be humble even when evaluating my own skills and talents. Perhaps I am meant to ascend into the social elites. However, maybe I am not. The irony of humility is that sometimes it causes you to give up what you believe is your dream only to actually find your way into what turns out to be your dream.

Secondly, to return specifically to Renn's contention, I do need to make choices consistent with that calling. We have all seen the stereotypical portrayal of the actor in a local theater production who is convinced that he could have been on Broadway if he had just gotten a break. He is continually making choices toward a calling that simply is not his, and he is wasting a great deal of time, effort, and money. He could be an incredible asset to the local theater by properly applying his talents and making choices that move him toward where he belongs. However, in addition to the lack of humility I mentioned in the first point, his mind is continually focused on something else that is not making choices to truly thrive in the place where he is supposed to be. I served as the Managing Editor for An Unexpected Journal for several years, and we had a respectable niche audience, but we certainly were not finding our way onto the bestseller lists. If I had to continually focus on trying to be a massive publication, I would have wasted a lot of energy on projects that simply could not be executed given our situation. Therefore, I tried to work within the confines of our publication to do things that made us better and provided value to those who cared about what we did. I think that was a much better use of my time because I chose to do things consistent with the spot we were called to fill.

Lastly, we mustn't write off those who are indeed called to be the elite. You may have a friend from your childhood who went on to become famous, and it is easy to become resentful. Sometimes, we feel left behind, and we get bitter. There is also a definite anti-elite, populist vibe in our country right now. In many ways, I think it is healthy to not just bow down to the elite, but the entire world is hierarchical. It is unavoidable. Consequently, if someone from your neighborhood makes it big and does things the right way, we ought to encourage and celebrate that. Renn mentions that he wishes he would have had someone in his life who pushed him towards certain choices that would have elevated his social status at an earlier point in his life. If we do find people in our lives like that who need that push, we should encourage them. It might not even be a young person. You may be older and have a friend who you believe has a serious political future yet is reluctant to try. Push that friend. Be the person who encourages people to find their ladder, even if that ladder moves them away from you. It can be hard because of our own jealousy (remember, jealousy is sinful) or our fears that we don't want to lose our friend. Nevertheless, we should not denigrate the elite just because it is the elite. Hierarchy will always exist, and we ought to want good people occupying and influencing all levels of it.

Discussions of social status are uncomfortable because we feel awkward talking about rank and inequality, but I am grateful that Renn brought it up. I think that, as he mentions a few times, one of the most important things we can do when we think about status is to be aware of how our choices influence our status. Where we end up might differ, but we at least need to think about what we are doing and where those choices will lead.

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: One Volume (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2002), 996, Kindle Edition.

[2] Stratford Caldecott, The Power of the Ring: The Spiritual Vision Behind the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 2012), Kindle Locations 907-911, Kindle Edition.

[3] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: One Volume (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2002), 1029, Kindle Edition.

[4] Ibid., 1032.