I adore C.S Lewis’ essay ‘The Inner Ring’. Remarkably simply he outlines the life of an ‘Inner Ringer’, someone who spends their life seeking to make their way into inner rings – small groups – to gain benefits; “power, money, liberty to break rules, avoidance of routine duties, evasion of discipline” but above all a feeling and evidence of secret intimacy with the ‘others’.

You cannot sign up to join an Inner Ring. There is no waiting list. An Inner Ring does not permit voluntary enrolment and self-selection, it is about admission – and what you’d do to get it.

So what would Lewis’ scoundrel inner ringer do?

“To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colours. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still – just at the moment when you are most anxious to not appear crude, or naif or a prig – the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which is not quite in accordance with the technical rules of fair play; something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand; something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about, but something, says your new friend, which “we” – and at the word “we” you try not to blush for mere pleasure – something “we always do”. And you will be drawn in, if you are drawn in, not by desire for gain or ease, but simply because at that moment, when the cup was so near your lips, you cannot bear to be thrust back again into the cold outer world. It would be so terrible to see the other man’s face – that genial, confidential, delightfully sophisticated face – turn suddenly cold and contemptuous, to know that you had been tried for the Inner Ring and rejected. And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still, but all in the joliest, friendliest spirit. It may end in a crash, a scandal, and penal servitude; it may end in millions, a peerage, and giving prizes at your old school. But you will be a scoundrel.”

I wrote this all out because it feels important. It seems a marker to me because I see myself in this very keenly. I do not like saying that but when I consider it, the desire for the Inner Ring makes terrifying sense to me. 

Lewis summarises perfectly: “Of all passions the passion for the Inner Ring is the most skillful in making a man who is not yet a very bad man do very bad things.”

Worse still, they are sad things, these Inner Rings. Lewis reminds us that “the circle cannot have from within the same charm it had from outside. By the very act of admitting you it has lost its magic.” Elsewhere he writes “until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.” 

This propensity is antithetical to enrolment, it opposes adoption. It is the frightened realm of admission and exclusion. “the Inner Ring exists for exclusion… the invisible line would have no meaning unless most people were on the wrong side of it. Exclusion is no accident; it is the essence.”

This outlines the warning. I cannot yet write about the alternate vision of sound craftsmanship and friendship the Lewis alludes to. I can only dig into the parable and confront the unscrupulous glee at the rejection of others from a group and use his words to orient myself to what forces cause me to strive towards the next Inner Ring and the availability of another path towards craftsmanship for the joy of a thing and that which build true community, joy and meaning in celebrating ones unique contribution.

Lewis notes anxiety as a vital component of that which drives an inner ringer. The pull is felt when “you are most anxious to not appear crude, or naif or a prig.“

The Inner Ring has the most power when you are anxious about how you appear;
No one wishes to be crude in any interaction, it is a childish thing. Whether it be crudeness in ones behaviour – acting rudely and indecently – or simply appearing imperceptive, to be the one not getting the joke. To be refused admittance because you were unrefined would be a damning assessment and the power of this force appears the most obvious foe in the fight to conquer the fear of being an outsider.

So too with the naif, it is a deeply unsettling fear to view oneself as naive and find concern that you will fail admittance to an Inner Ring because you appear inexperienced, not schooled in “how these things work”. Believing everything one hears is indeed a danger in itself, but choosing to go along with a behaviour for fear of appearing naive is no doubt the fouler path since it drives you even further from true curiosity and the true humility required for learning. The person afraid of being perceived as naive ends up even further away from making a decision for themself than the simply naive person.

Anxiety of being viewed a prig is centred around the concern that by simply adhering to your own set of morals, you should appear to the gatekeeper of an Inner Ring to be a self-righteous and proud individual, overly fussy around arbitrary rules. This could lead one with a marginally weaker moral compass to incrementally abandon their values and do whatever was required for admission to the Inner Ring. The reason for this is that while you may have a set of rules by which you choose to live, refusal to accompany others misaligned with your morals could create a discomfort in you that your refusal would paint you in a negative light. If you were a prig, revelling in making yourself lofty and proud, you would have a separate set of issues not discussed here. The problem here is that you fear being perceived as self-righteous and in so doing may abandon the very virtues you ought to hold.

“Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.”
Such profound truth in that sentiment. These three anxieties Lewis outlines illustrate three paths that maintain a fear of being an outsider. The first centres around being uncouth, uncivilised and unrefined. The second is based in the fear of making oneself infantile, inexperienced and appearing unschooled. The last makes one abandon their values from inch to mile by calling into question a conviction by framing it as a prideful act.

Psalm 1:1-3 says
”Blessed is the man
who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.”

What to do? “Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.” The only way to conquer that fear is to know that one has already been made an insider. To settle that constant striving in with a restful sitting down. To allow oneself to be planted down and allow the roots to settle into something. For me, I want to be like the tree described in Psalm 1. I am not sure there is another way, there doesn’t appear to be and I shan’t be looking for one.

I battle the desire for entry to the next Inner Ring often. But I do not think that my solution lies in a wilful attempt to stop myself being afraid of being an outsider. My position has been established and settled and it is my hope that that settledness and restfulness only increases in me personally and outflows into true friendship with others where there is a safety and security and quiet intimacy that exists among us that arises purely naturally and is not borne of some backwards pleasure taken from my own admittance to – and another’s exclusion from – the next ring.