Killing people.  It's a tricky one, isn't it?
We... 
(and, in this instance, by the word 'we' I mean that rather narrow band 
of people who produce and consume the artefacts of the Western narrative
 culture industries) ... we want to tell ourselves - in those bourgeois 
morality plays we call entertainment - that killing is WRONG.  Wrong, 
wrong, wrong.
The killing curse is an 'Unforgiveable Curse'.
"Make the foundation of this society a man who never would".
Luke can't be won to the Dark Side because he won't kill his father.
"Coward.  Every time."
"Stop!  I command it!  There will be no battle here!" 
Etc, etc, etc.
But
 lookity here... our heroes kill people, or they support the necessity 
of killing people.  Even the 'moral' ones (i.e. the ones who aren't 
James Bond) do so.  Luke is nobly refusing to kill his father even as 
Han and Leia and Lando are killing loads of Imperial soldiers in the big
 battles.  The Doctor refuses to kill the threatened people of Earth 
even as the survivors of the Gamestation are fighting and trying to kill
 Daleks, and Rose solves the whole thing by coming back as the Bad Wolf 
and committing magical genocide.  The Doctor decrees the end of the 
battle, but relies upon soldiers: the Brigadier, Bambera and Ancelyn... 
maybe even Ace too... and the Brig saves the world by pumping silver 
bullets into the Destroyer.
Etc, etc, etc.
Harry
 Potter never kills anyone.  He barely ever fights anyone.  But he 
manages this by hiding in a tent when the war comes, while Neville 
actually fights the Death Eaters in Hogwarts, and his mates form a 
resistance cell and an underground radio station.  Yet Harry accepts the
 necessity of killing Voldemort.  He passively accepts (as he pasively 
accepts everything) that killing Voldemort is his destiny.  Luckily, as 
in every other instance (something Voldemort rightly points out), 
something comes between him and the ugly necessity.  Wormtail dies when 
his own hand strangles him, assorted Death Eaters fall over and 
accidentally kill themselves and their friends in order to oblige 
Harry.  In the same way, Voldemort gets shot by a wand, acting of its 
own volition out of loyalty to Harry.
In the Potter 
stories, killing is categorically wrong, evil, unforgiveable.  So the 
goodies fight the magic-Nazis with jinxes that make you fall over.  
Luckily, the magic-Nazis also (for some reason) generally refrain from 
using the killing curse.  Meanwhile, Voldemort clearly and explicitly 
needs killing... and Harry is Chosen to do it... yet he can't do this 
without either
a) using the unforgiveable killing curse, or
b)
 getting very lucky (i.e. Voldemort accidentally trips over the hem of 
his own robes and falls onto the tines of a passing threshing machine).
Luckily,
 luck always comes to Potter's rescue (as, once again, Voldemort rightly
 points out), and - through sheer good fortune - there's some 
complicated business that means Voldemort gets killed by a sentient wand
 that, like so many expedient creatures before it, stands in front of 
Our Hero and does all the difficult, icky stuff for him.
(This is in the books only, by the way.  In the movies, Neville
 kills Voldemort by killing the snake - the last Horcrux... an act which
 weakens Voldemort to the point where he just falls to pieces.  
Seriously, go and rewatch the last movie.  Neville is totally the real Chosen One in movie canon.)
The Harry Potter
 stories are among the most successful, profitable, influential, 
widely-read books and widely-watched films produced by the Western 
culture industries in recent years.  Like Star Wars and Doctor Who before them, they've had an enormous impact on millions of people - 
probably even more so than previous franchises.  An entire generation 
feels that they 'grew up with' Potter his classmates.  When some members
 of that generation took to the streets of London to protest tuition 
fees in 2011, some of them carried placards saying 'This Never Happened 
at Hogwarts', and chanted "Expelliarmus!" at the armed riot cops who 
were kettling and attacking them. 
(Parenthetically...
 this sort of thing bears very little relation to any of the actual 
political valences or imports of the stories themselves, which are 
soft-liberal at best, and often highly charged with reactionary 
implications.  There seems very little in any of the stories to suggest 
that the (unelected) Ministry of Magic's various enforcers might be a 
threat to democratic protest - at least not until the Ministry gets 
infected with the foreign virus of Voldemortism.  Indeed, there is no 
democratic protest in the Wizarding World.  Rowling's own politics 
notwithstanding.  She seems like a perfectly nice - even, by current 
standards, conscientious - liberal, outspoken about supporting welfare, 
the need for rich people to pay their taxes, and the undesirability of 
persecuting gay people, etc.  I give her no kudos for such bare 
minimums, but it puts her above many in her class.  However, for 
instance, her Potter stories feature precisely one non cis-het 
character... and he's only gay because the author decreed him so outside
 of the books... and his gayness is signified via one disastrous 
relationship that sapped him of all common sense and morality, and which
 he found so destabilising and immiserating that he never had another 
romantic or sexual relationship of any kind ever again.  Rowling's 
greedy, big-nosed, "swarthy, clever-faced" goblins are unsettlingly 
reminiscent of Nazi anti-Semitic ideas, in that they are clearly both 
evil bankers and also sneaky communists who fail to understand 'human' 
notions of private property based on trade. The books also 
feature a race of cutesy, servile elves who love to work and obey, roll 
their huge bulging eyes, and speak in what is recognisably a kind of 
parodic pidgin 'black slave dialect', i.e. "I is not doing it Sir!".  An
 entire species of happy drudges, depicted as pickaninny Uncle Toms.  
Absolutely fucking awful.) 
I 
could go on with that kind of stuff (the books give me plenty of 
scope)... but the point here isn't really to engage in a point-by-point 
trashing of the politics of the Potter novels.  My point here is 
that these stories have come to be enormously significant culturally, 
gaining traction in lots of heads and being co-opted for political 
rhetoric even in radical or activist situations regardless of their objective content.  
As
 noted above, the moral philosophy underpinning the books is muddled at 
best.  Now, that isn't a tremendous problem.  I don't demand that works 
of fiction rest upon meticulously consistent ethical systems (which, 
speaking as a reader, is just as well).  But, being children's fiction, 
the books greatly concern themselves with moral issues.  (As I say, 
Western narrative culture is much preoccupied with moralising... and 
this goes double for cultural artefacts produced for children.)  So 
you'd be forgiven for hoping for a reasonably consistent attitude to the
 morals being preached, especially since the books are the product of 
one sole author (to the extent that anything ever can be).  But the Potter
 books do not have a consistent attitude on this.  No more so than 
franchises with huge collaborative input from multiple authors.   
Actually, that's the important point in all this: Rowling's internal 
contradictions are not rare but common.  They are, in many ways, par for
 the course.  Especially in massively successful cultural artefacts. 
One reason why certain works of fiction obtain massive 
amounts of popular success is that they are relentlessly marketed... but
 marketing (however despicable and loathsome it may usually be) doesn't 
exist in a vacuum.  People market stuff they think is marketable.  
Obviously.  They market stuff they think people will like.  You can't 
make most people buy a kick in the teeth, even if you spend billions 
marketing it using the most sophisticated techniques available.  There 
is, undeniably, a sense in which - and a degree to which - capitalism is
 absolutely right when it says that markets work, and that it 
(capitalism) gives people what they want.  (There are all sorts of 
problems with this - not least the incorrect assumption that there is a 
'thing' called 'The Market', and that it is synonymous with, or an 
invention of, or impossible without, capitalism... but we'll let all 
that slide or we'll be here all fucking day.)  It's true that the 
cultural and ideological industries of capitalism - marketing, for 
instance - can sell people shitty ideas, or get them to acquiesence to 
shitty things... but that isn't quite the same thing.  And often, the 
successful selling of shitty ideas is reliant upon disguising 
them, wrapping them up in more pleasant things, or spinning them so that
 they appeal to our worst tendencies while also flying under the radar 
of our better instincts.  In short: it can be done, but it takes some 
doing.  The telling fact is that capitalism has to devote so much of its
 time, money and intellectual effort to manufacting such consent and 
acquiesence.  
But, to veer 
back in the direction of the point... aside from marketing, another 
reason why certain works of cultural production become hugely popular is
 because they reflect - in ways that are gratifying, satisfying, 
flattering, masochistic, clarifying or whatever - widespread ideas, 
especially about morality.  Justice and injustice are essential parts of
 storytelling, I think.  It's in the nature of consuming a story that 
you think about the moral consequences of what is happening, the justice
 or injustice of it, the fairness of the distribution of suffering 
and/or retribution, the possibilities in oneself to act like this or 
that character, etc.  It's a commonplace observation that stories 
designed to be as marketable as popular tend to be more morally direct 
and simplistic, at least on the surface.  They do it because it works.  
And it works because we like it.  And we like it because it confirms, 
illustrates, dramatises and flatteringly reflects ideas and intuitions we
 already have.  Even as we are shaped by the narrative commodities we 
consume, we shape them.  They respond to us as we respond to them.  It 
isn't an equal, equitable relationship with both parties on a level 
playing field, but it is reciprocal.  Dialectical, even.  The point is 
that stories concern themselves with justice and injustice - inherently 
moral ideas - because that's just, kind-of, what they're for (a 
valid tautology).  We, humans, make stories for this purpose.  And have 
done for a very long time.  The stories that 'catch on' - the myths that
 get repeated endlessly, from generation to generation, until they get 
written down... all the way up to the novels and movies that do billion 
dollar business - do so partly because they express some widespread 
moral sense.  (Some might turn their noses up at an analysis which puts 
the financial success of Hollywood blockbusters down to their ability to
 express moral sentiments that chime with millions... but I want to be 
clear that I'm not saying audiences or film-makers are necessarily 
conscious of this, or that the interest of audiences necessarily equates
 to sympathy, or that their sympathy - when it happens - is always with 
what the film-makers expect, or that the role of marketing and ideology 
is at all insignificant, or that Hollywood films are 'improving', or 
that stories should be 'improving' in order to be 'good'... or any of the other hundreds of ways you could choose to misinterpret what I'm saying.)
As it happens, I do think that film-makers know how 
important moral questions are in their mass-market dramas.  Just look at
 almost any big budget narrative cultural product.  They are all, almost
 without exception, morality plays of some kind or another.  That goes 
for 12 Years a Slave as much as for Captain America: The Winter Soldier.  When George Lucas used to talk about Star Wars,
 he used to explicitly say that he set out to create a synthesis of 
modern moral notions in movie form (via Campbell, of course).  
So, you probably see where I'm headed with this.  One reason why the Potter
 franchise has been so hugely successful (remembering that in a 
bourgeois culture the 'success' of a cultural product is, ultimately, 
its profitability) is because it has, like Star Wars before it, hooked 
into some very widespread feelings among people in Western (and 
Westernised) culture about morality.  If the purpose of profitable art 
is to hold the mirror up to culture, something as profitable as Potter must have done so quite well.
The
 point is that Rowling's difficulties and self-contradictions and 
inconsistencies on this issue of killing people - and, by extension, the 
self-contradictions and inconsistencies that other writers get 
themselves into - mirror and express and dramatise the faultlines in 
bourgeois morality.
For all my blather, it's actually a very simple point that I'm making: our culture kills people, and relies upon killing people, and is built upon mounds of bodies... yet we enjoy telling ourselves that we think it is wrong to kill.  But this impression - that killing people is WRONG in a blanket sense, and that we don't do it - is entirely an impression of the privileged.  It is something that we can get away with believing if we are lucky enough to be far enough removed from the filthy realities of exploitation, oppression and mass murder that underpin Western capitalist culture, and/or from any immediate and pressing personal need to fight it. 
 
the American scapegoat meme seems stronger now, not just in everything Clint Eastwood does. Whedon moved towards it from a less neocon stance. but even back in Buffy he left the outsider - the english one - to do the killing (S5,22 final) so the rest could walk away with clean hands.
ReplyDeleteMeanwhile we keep making human sacrifices (the poor, the old, the mentally ill, anyone who isn't a 'player,') to the great god we worship called 'free market capitalism.'
through which the myth-peddlers do very well.
I was particularly sad that the hunger games books, which had the potential to make us self-aware and revolutionary, were turned into blockbuster films which are the very circusses that keep the masses from revolting.
This argument is very similar to the reason why I was bothered by The Day of the Doctor; it changes the world of Doctor Who from one where - like ours - sometimes unthinkable choices have to be made, to one where a hero can always sidestep them thanks to conveniences in the plot. Moffat's insistence that the Doctor would never do what Davies said he would seemed to me to really be a statement that Moffat didn't think a show like Doctor Who could take that sort of position, which is possibly why under him everything feels so much emptier.
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