Perhaps jealous its sales may trounce those of the wildly popular Perhaps jealous its sales may trounce those of the wildly popular Left Behind novels -- the evangelical publishing phenomenon scribbled by fundamentalists Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins -- many religious conservatives have been up in arms over J.K. Rowling's phenomenally successful Harry Potter series. The case against the books? According to some evangelicals, they promote Satanism and witchcraft.
No one in the media seems to have reported what actual flesh and blood Wiccans (or, for that matter, Satanists) think of these allegations. But when the fourth book in Rowling's series, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, came out last weekend, religious rightists were heard in abundance. Anti-Potterite camps include the following:
Move over, Tinky Winky. Some have alleged that the lightning bolt scar on Harry Potter's forehead, which is vaguely S-shaped, stands for "Satan." Always searching out threats to his brand of Christian morals, Jerry Falwell once accused the purple, purse-carrying Teletubbies character Tinky Winky of being gay; Satan-pushing Harry Potter may trump even Tinky Winky on the list of evils.
Also conspiracy-mongering is this theological faction:
The Anti-Witch Establishmentarians. Not all members of the Christian right think that Satan is behind the success of Rowling's books. But a number object that the Harry Potter novels, which they view as friendly to the occult, give the IRS-recognized religion of Wiccanism a leg up in school classrooms, while Christian students still can't hold organized prayer in public schools. "There's no denying Harry Potter has a lot of symbolism for Wiccans," comments Karen Jo Gounaud, president of Family Friendly Libraries. "Everyone is a witch or warlock; they cast spells, drink blood. They believe in reincarnation." Lobbing an even more vicious charge, Linda Beam, contributing culture analyst for Focus on the Family, says of Rowling's fiction that "these stories are not fueled by witchcraft, but by secularism."
On the other side of the Atlantic, meanwhile, the anti-Potterites seem to have made friends with:
Henry VIII's "Always Anxious to Please" Church. One might think that the Harry Potter novels would receive an enthusiastic reception in Britain. But in fact, officials at Canterbury Cathedral recently dissed Warner Bros. when the film company asked to shoot the medieval building as the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for its upcoming movie version of the Harry Potter series. "Because this is the leading center of the Anglican Communion, we had to be sensitive to the feeling of some Christians that there is something anti-Christian in these books," said a Cathedral spokesperson. "We had to be sensitive to all shades of opinion."
Reflecting a related shade of opinion:
The "Slippery Slope" Theorists. Reverend Lori Jo Scheppers, a "troubled youth counselor," told CNN, "As we expose our kids to the occult, we expose our kids to blood, to violence, and desensitize them to that. What I can expect is those kids, as they mature, have a very good chance of becoming another Dylan Klebold and those guys in Columbine."
But not all evangelicals hate Harry Potter:
The Repentant Nixonites. Chuck Colson, who went to prison for Watergate offenses and later founded the evangelical Prison Fellowship Ministries, likes Harry Potter. Harry and cohorts, Colson opines, "develop courage, loyalty, and a willingness to sacrifice for one another, even at the risk of their lives. . . . Not bad lessons in a self-centered world." And then there are . . .
The Bootstrappers. Indeed, some conservatives find admirable values embodied not only by the characters of Rowling's novels, but by Rowling's own perseverance as a writer in the face of considerable hardship and poverty. In an op-ed on literary aspects of the Potter novels, George Will glowingly depicts this resilience and personal initiative:
"Not long ago Rowling was a single mother living on welfare in an unheated Edinburgh flat. She would push a stroller through the streets until her young daughter fell asleep, then she would nurse a cup of coffee in a warm cafe while she wrote about a bespectacled 11-year-old orphan boy whose parents were wizards."
How touching. But before conservatives start touting writing best-selling children's novels as an alternative to welfare (and advocating cuts in welfare programs as the only way to encourage such authorship), one should note that Rowling originally began plotting the Potter plots when she was still a teenager, in 1976.
And not everyone has Rowling's literary talents. Conservative columnist Bill Murchison crashes and burns with this syrupy paean to Harry Potter:
"Hooray for Harry, I feel entitled to cry, without having so much as slipped a Potter book into a Borders bag. If he's bad or mediocre, so what? He's a book -- two covers, see? A thick spine to weigh in the hand; pages to thrust a nose between, for the sake of appropriating the aroma of glue and paper; summer dreams to dream."
Among libertarians, too, one finds celebration of the moral overtones of Rowling's tale. Consider:
The George Lucas School. Those at the libertarian Ayn Rand Institute commend the Harry Potter series for imparting enduring philosophical wisdom about the nature of good and evil to children. In a highly Latinate op-ed e-mailed out by the Mothership, objectivist Dianne L. Durante argues Rowling's novels can teach kids yin-yang lessons, including how to see the glass as half full instead of half empty:
"When my seven-year-old races around the dining room table swathed in an old bathrobe, with a broomstick made of a mini-blind wand and cardboard, she is not expressing an interest in witches or the supernatural. Rather, she is trying on the personality of an independent, courageous intelligent individual who conquers evil. She is enthusiastically endorsing a positive philosophic perspective on herself and on the world."
Or just playing.
But regardless of their perspective, conservatives seem to be overlooking another reason to "just say no" to Harry Potter. Haven't they noticed that kids seem unfailingly attracted to books with the word "Potter" on the cover? First Beatrix, now Harry. . . . Could it be a plot to spread marijuana use among the young?
