‘On the Wizarding Ghetto of Harry Potter,’ a Guest Post from Prof Josh Richards, Palm Beach Atlantic University.
The thought arose the other day: “Why isn’t the Wizarding World like Tolkien’s elves?” A strange comparison to consider initially, sure, but it is not so unjust of one. Both are a race of secluded magical beings in possession of powers beyond the pale of the mortals around them. Yet, they could not be more different. Although Tolkien’s elves are less powerful magically than the wizards, they are enlightened epicureans, but the wizards… not so much.
Seeking the reason for the divergence led me to some interesting tensions in the Harry Potter series and the conclusion that Rowling’s 1960’s upbringing and concomitant class prejudices has a stifling, if not outright deleterious, affect on the world-building in Harry Potter. This may seem a strange thing to assert, but the positives of it—the focus on inclusion, social justice, and concern for the downtrodden—are well-known. However, the axioms of this background, especially in the world’s fantasy setting, produce substantial dissonance.
First, we must consider that it is axiomatic to Rowling’s upbringing that one human is never superior to another in any substantial way. However, she also creates a world divided by the possession of an innate ability by the whim of fortune: those who can cast magic and those who cannot. Yet, somewhat mysteriously, to think that wizards are, in any way, superior to muggles is seen as so monstrous a supposition that it is strictly the province of those who murder and torture for fun.
Yet, why is this taken for a given? Dumbledore’s flirtation with this and the wizards seizing power in the final book is treated with a St. Augustine-like narrative of dissipation and redemption, but it makes us wonder things like why does the Minister of Magic answer to the Prime Minister of Britain? It raises two issues: First, why is he subordinate and second why are the wizards not a sovereign political power? There are not satisfactory answers for these in the world itself, and I think the answer is simply that Rowling’s prejudices require that wizards be a part of an overall democratic society. The Minister of Magic is, effectively in the novels, the Wizard King/Queen, but Rowling insists that this is not the case (even making a point of this in Book 6).
Rowling also seems to unconsciously compensate for the requisite muggle/wizard equality by having the wizards be, on the whole, so daft that they can’t figure out how to make tea without their wands, it seems. They’re an entire nation of batty aunts and weird uncles and idiot savants. Very few wizards seem even capable of dressing themselves in a semi-attractive, non-eccentric manner, and those that can are generally evil aristocrats.
And those two are always concomitant: there are no good, non-self-loathing aristocratic characters. Characters either repudiate their aristocratic heritage (like Sirius Black) or behave identically to their blue-collar peers, and for all intents purposes, all wizards are such: they are a nation of artisans, shopkeepers, and petty bureaucrats. In fact, there are not even wizard bankers—Gringotts is run by goblins. Despite their incredible powers, most wizards seem to live in want and menial industry.
On the balance, the wizarding world seems parasitic on the muggle-world—the wizards invent and produce nothing. They take muggle inventions and reverse-engineer them with magic, but there is no evidence of wizard philosophy, poetry, art, dance, or music (beyond the school choir of one movie’s introit). Despite having so little contact with the muggle world that they have to take classes on it, neither do they have a culture of their own.
Their architecture is dilapidated and largely deranged versions of muggle buildings with magic used to render it quasi-functional. I can think of no books that are not for children (like the Tales of Beedle the Bard), journalism, or non-fiction. Their only cultural activity seems to be being sports hooligans. In this way, the wizards are less secluded than self-ghettoized—nobody aspires to the humanities, to the arts. Harry Potter was reaching to be one of the highest callings when he sought to be an auror, which is a wizard police-officer/soldier. Why is this, in a world of magic, one of the loftiest aspirations?
In this way sense, the blue-collar nature of the wizards seems a product of prejudice as it is a wholly unnecessary addition. The wizards needn’t be innately superior as Tolkien’s elves as Rowling could easily have made the wizards a nation of cloistered, bookish eggheads who need magic to make their tea and can’t remember to dress themselves properly, but it seems Rowling’s values require that her wizards be blue-collar, if they are to be decent, moral people at all.
Prof. Richards,
Thanks very much for this article. While I may differ on certain points, I have to say this is a very potentially valuable article, as it raises questions of self-betterment and cultural renewal through “Humane Letters”; what might be thought of as the core goal of the Inklings as a group, and of various related sympathizers.
It’s therefore a pretty sure bet that such ideals will have an uphill battle.
In particular, it’s helpful, I think, to compare Rowling’s sense of cultural values from those of the Inklings and their friends. A very good collection of articles on what might be termed the Mythopoeic view of culture can be found on The Imaginative Conservative website. It should probably be stressed that the word Conservative is being used in a sense well above the usual Red/Blue divide.
This is something more open and, in a surprising twist, more liberal than most modern liberalism. A good summation of how the Inklings applied this lies in this helpful article on the greater literary movement the inklings were caught up in.
The title is “Making Modernity Human: can Christian Humanism redeem an age of ideology?”, a link to which can be found here:
http://www.theimaginativeconservative.org/2012/11/making-modernity-human-can-christian.html
In laying out the dichotomy between Rowling’s cultural thoughts and those of the Inklings, I’d like to list several helpful quotes from the article itself.
“In a world agog with labels and categories we too often leave important ideas behind. With paleocons, traditionalists, neocons, Leocons, libertarians, classical liberals, anarcho-capitalists, distributists, and agrarians, the right can be as bad as the left in its fetish for classification.
“One group that defies easy definition are the women and men we might call Christian Humanists. In 1939, the New York Times gave their philosophy a lineage. “This is the theme recurring in much of the writings of some of the foremost thinkers of our day, such as the late Irving Babbitt and Paul Elmer More, and [Nikolai] Berdyaev, Christopher Dawson, and T.S. Eliot.” The newspaper of record might have added others: C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and their circles in Britain, as well as philosophers Jacques Maritain and Etienne Gilson in France.
““Humanism is a tradition of culture and ethics,” proclaimed the English historian Christopher Dawson, “founded on the study of humane letters.” The moment St. Paul quoted the Stoics in his mission to Athens—“In Him we move and live and have our being”— he bridged the humanist and Christian worlds. (The line came from a centuries-old Stoic hymn, “In Zeus we move and live and have our being.”) From that point forward, Dawson argued, any separation of one from the other led to what we must consider “dark ages.” Just as “man needs God and nature requires grace for its own perfecting, so humane culture is the natural foundation and preparation for spiritual culture.” Christianity and humanism mix so readily, wrote Dawson, that they “are complementary to one another in the order of culture, as are Nature and Grace in the order of being.”
There’s lots more, but it should give a fair idea of where Tolkien, Lewis, and a host of others were coming from. This is an entire culture and context removed from the one Rowling inhabits. In fact, though it’s obvious she’s a great fan of Lewis (and more or less of Tolkien), it’s fair to say that there’s little she may know about the culture they defended or even the way of seeing reality that such a worldview as theirs entailed.
Perhaps if Tolkien, Lewis, or even J.G. Borges had written the Potter books, we would have been given what Williams called an “Image of the City”; a fantastical imagining of the New Jerusalem symbolized in the forms of the ancient learning both Tolkien and Lewis were familiar with (although it’s amusing to point out that if Borges had ever written Potter, it would probably be no longer than a 14 page short story).
I don’t know whether any of this was helpful or not.
I found it difficult to engage in any of the points made in this article as they seem built on a foundation of generalizations and false assumptions. The Minister of Magic certainly does not answer to the Muggle Prime Minister. How a reader could come away with that impression after reading the one chapter involving their interactions surprises me and diminishes my confidence in the rest of the article. Quite the reverse is apparent in that the current occupant of Number 10 has no control whatever over any visitations and is completely intimidated by them. Fudge comes at will and is more genial than his successor, but both are there merely to inform the PM as a courtesy and not to “answer to” him in any way. Scrimgeour locks his door and it remains locked despite the PM’s request otherwise. The sole reason for any desire/need to keep the Muggles abreast of events is because recent Deatheater activities had became more out in the open in violation of the Statute of Secrecy and was effecting Muggle society. In the end of the interview the PM pleads for them to do something and they have to point out that the baddies have the same magical capabilities. I also find the MoM as King/Queen correlation false as no Minister inherits the post from a blood relative and can be, as Fudge was, booted out for doing a bad job.
Regarding dress, most wizards prefer robes, but wear Muggle clothing when they must which is probably often. A few descriptions of eccentric fashion is fun and funny, but again doesn’t preclude wearing “normal” clothes when out and about. Ditto the architecture. Perhaps Prof. Richards has been influenced by the films and the lasting power of visual images used to entertain a mass audience. The often used Dickensian garb and street scenes in Diagon Alley are effective in creating an atmosphere of “otherness” and do stick.
Professor Richards’ other sweeping generalizations include “a nation of batty aunts and weird uncles and idiot savants.” This observation is a humorous characterization but hardly an accurate overall picture able to back up his arguments. The only batty main character that comes to mind is Zeno Lovegood. Likewise, his view that wizards have no culture. Although it is true we are not shown examples of literature or other cultural pursuits specifically, nothing is provided to cause a reader to assume that none exist. There are libraries and book shops, and if Gilderoy had a few low-brow bestsellers, I imagine there were writers and philosophers aplenty on the shelves. There are many aspects of Wizarding society that I assume do exist, but are not necessary for the narrative.
“They are a nation of artisans and shopkeepers and petty bureaucrats.” Another limited generalization. There are scientists, inventors, writers, lawyers, judges, police, intelligence services, teachers, farmers, painters, physicians/healers, secretarial workers, clerks, journalists, photographers, professional athletes, manufacturers, jewelers, singers and musicians. I read nothing that made me feel the Wizard world ” invented nothing or produced nothing.” There was lots to buy and I certainly imagine wizards invented and produced. There couldn’t have been many Muggle manufacturers of cauldrons.
Most importantly to his article Professor Richards makes the rather simplistic case that all good Wizards were blue-collar and the aristocrats were bad. Does that mean his definition of aristocrat is primarily about money? In the Wizard World the class system they were trying to overcome was pure-blood vs mixed blood, the view that pure-bloods were superior. Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy belonged to the same “class,” both aristocrats, if you will, since they were both pure-blood. The fact that one had money and one did not is irrelevant in this case. James Potter himself came from a pure-blood and wealthy family. I doubt any of the Potters or McKinnons, Longbottoms or Bones families were self-loathing and yet despite being rich were decent and moral. There were plenty of pure-blood/aristocrats with or without money on the good side.
The general tone of the article makes me think the writer just didn’t like the Potter saga very much and in order to justify his preference for Tolkien’s world, plucked out several bits that could be manipulated to support his view. Unfortunately his premise cannot be supported by calculated omission or inaccurate impressions. It’s also good to remember that although Tolkien’s Elven world was beautiful and noble, it was the comical, almost caricature-like Hobbits who were the true heroes. The only thing I recall that they made was tobacco.
What an interesting perspective! It reminded me of the one piece of art we see having an effect in the books. Well, there’s lots of art, but the only piece that has an effect because of its positive message instead of its magical properties or negative propaganda is when Luna paints her ceiling (cathedral?) with the pictures of her saintly friends, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny and has them all linked with the golden chain of one word repeated a thousand times, “friends”. That part always moves me and is one of the more enduring quiet images from book 7, I think. I wish there had been more like that.
This is kind of an extension of the problem that there are so few extra-curricular activities at Hogwarts. The only ones we really see are the ones in which our hero Harry partakes in and almost universally is the star of (quidditch, Dueling Club, Dumbledore’s Army, the Slug Club). Thus, the only wizarding careers we focus on are the ones our heroes excell at (Ministry jobs, aurors, quidditch stars and to a lesser degree small business owners).
Nana,
I’ve been thinking about what you said. They do have equivalents of judges, intelligence services and clerks etc. There are, in fact, paintings, inventors of different types of candy, what passes for a so called free press complete with journalists and paparazzi, there are spells for healing, and musicians.
What I wonder about is what kind of spell is it that makes paint come to life, or make a painting become a kind of portal? Granted from a thematic, and not literal view, such items may be pointers to the spiritual elements in the story. That’s all well and good. Looked at from the literal level of the story, what exactly are these paintings, and how can you determine which might deserve to be called art? Do we judge it by our normal human standards, or do wizards have a different set of artistic markers?
Out of all the paintings and pictures in the books, most are either newspaper photos, portraits of past headmasters or famous magical personalities. True, there is Luna’s painting, and it has a value to her friends. Still, most, or pretty much all of the Wizarding World is bound up with, almost controlled by, magic.
I think Prof. Richards point is that this constant reliance, almost dependence on the abilities of spells and charms, while making life easier for wizards, has also limited or provincialized their collective outlook to a perhaps unsafe extent (it certainly doesn’t help the culture during books 5-7). Also, Dumbledore says he reads both muggle as well as wizard newspapers, meaning he is conversant in both world, and may even be able to move about normally in either. It also implies that not many wizards take an interest in life outside their own culture.
It is always possible this may have been Rowling’s original intent; to satirize the closed minded thinking of a culture that has isolated itself, not only from ordinary humans, but from it’ own magical world (remember Dumbledore’s comments on the statue in the ministry, and that it’s ultimately destroyed). Such thinking would largely, I think, be a form of cultural cancer, and it’s precisely here that Rowling’s thinking comes at least into a kind uneasy alliance with that of the Inklings.
The great over-arching goal of the Lewis, Tolkien, Williams, Barfield, Eliot, Sayers etc. seems to have been to prod their readers into a mental shift, a gradual change of mind to the point where the reader (and maybe viewers) would come to understand the world and all they see and hear in it from a perspective closer to that of the original Biblical perspective.
Part of their means of doing this was preserving the Humane Tradition in both Art and Letters, as they felt it made up the patrimony of the tradition of Christian civilization. Without these artistic cultural markers, they felt, civilization would starve (as it largely still is) from want of even a glimpse of something higher than any daily grind. There thinking, in essence, was, lose art, letters, and the guiding cult (i.e. religion) and you soon lose the culture. At least, that was their great fear. That’s how you can have such disparate viewpoints like the agnostic Irving Babbitt, or the post-modern Rowling, uniting with people like T.S. Eliot or C.S. Lewis to try and preserve all that’s great in a culture, and it may be from these concerns that Rowling frames her less than flattering picture of wizards.
My thoughts tend to align more with Nana than with Chris or Professor Richards, and I don’t think I could express myself quite so eloquently right now.
But in this point from Richards: “Rowling also seems to unconsciously compensate for the requisite muggle/wizard equality by having the wizards be, on the whole, so daft that they can’t figure out how to make tea without their wands, it seems.” and this one from Chris: “I think Prof. Richards point is that this constant reliance, almost dependence on the abilities of spells and charms, while making life easier for wizards, has also limited or provincialized their collective outlook to a perhaps unsafe extent” brought something to mind for me.
Hasn’t Rowling said that she saw magic much as she saw electricity and other modern conveniences? In that context, could we apply the same things to us, substituting out “magic” and “wands” for “electricity” and “appliances”?
That would give us “… [the people] be, on the whole, so daft that they can’t figure out how to make tea without their [appliances], it seems.”
and
“I think Prof. Richards’ point is that this constant reliance, almost dependence on [electricity/technology], while making life easier for [people], has also limited or provincialized their collective outlook to a perhaps unsafe extent.”
So to me, discussing wizards’ reliance on magic, and its general defects in providing a fuller culture, seems like an entirely serious discussion between the French and the English on the nonsense of Lilliputians fighting wars over which end of the egg is broken.
Rochelle,
I agree that it is a topic well worth discussion. I don’t know what Rowling’s take on technology is, although it’s entirely negative, however she’s probably not blind to the short-sightedness modern living can have on people.
For my own part, as opposed to Prof. Richards, I’m not a techno-phobe. However I have noticed what I can only describe as a creeping solipsism in a lot of popular discourse that betrays a lack of knowledge in several areas or fields of expertise, some of them vital to just living in general.
Bear in mind, the examples I’ve seen are all at what De Toqueville would call the “Popular Majority” level of discourse. At the common level, as opposed to popular, well, it seems more like a case of desperate voices trying to gain any kind of a hearing, even the slightest table scrap of real learning.
In terms of Rowling’s own politics, she’s more or less proclaimed herself a Fabian (a modern form of socialism). She and I are on opposite sides of the political spectrum in that regard, and I don’t know whether or not Rowling is advocating her own politics in the novels (however, I haven’t seen anything in the books that would count as soap-boxing in political terms, so probably not). As far as politics goes, I just say thank Heaven for E.F. Schumacher and leave it at that.
What does seem a part of Rowling’s critique of society is the loss of a certain way of looking at things, a way of seeing and thinking that would at least allow for the possibility of some kind of sense of spirituality.
I am entirely with Nana on this one.
Prof. Richards seem to me to be misreading not just Rowling, but also Tolkien. As Nana points out, Tokien’s heroes are not the Epicurean Elves, but the agrarian, home-loving Hobbits. I find it odder still that Richards attributes the themes of social and economic justice that run through the Harry Potter saga to Rowling’s 60s upbringing since she was born in 1965 and was a mere toddler as the 1960s drew to a close.
The social justice themes in HP have much older (17th century) roots, as Carrie-Ann Biondi brilliantly demonstrated in her posts on Un-Locke-ing the Order of the Phoenix: http://web.archive.org/web/20120308000212/http://thehogshead.org/un-locke-ing-order-of-the-phoenix-part-i-7412
This post, reviewing Bradley Birzer’s recent book on Tolkien, suggests that Tolkien too, would have been very comfortable with the old-fashioned candle-lit world of Hogwarts — and with the absence of mega-corporations packed with white-collar wizards busily inventing new contraptions: http://www.theimaginativeconservative.org/2012/12/the-transcendent-in-tolkien.html
‘Tolkien…“passionately hated tyranny, whether it came from the Left or Right of the political spectrum.” [He] responded to old tales, old loyalties, old roads and houses, and the old faith…[and] considered modernity a blight, the reign of “King Whirl”: a carnival of ever-accelerating, mindless activity, which needlessly destroys all that is good and homely and noble. Unchecked mechanization is Saruman unbound. “Tolkien, on the whole, despised mechanization, arguing that it reflected modernity’s attack on nature, its attempt to dominate and subjugate all aspects of the given world.” Further…Tolkien viewed small farming—agrarianism, in Kirk‘s lexicon; Distributism, in Tolkien’s,…as perhaps the ideal way for men to live: close to the land and the turn of the seasons, in fellowship with God, creation, and the small community of souls.’
Just to be absolutely clear on Tolkien’s philosophy, here is a definition of Distributism, a late 19th century economic ideology based on Catholic doctrines that set itself apart from both capitalism and socialism. According to the Distributists, property ownership is a fundamental right and the means of production should be spread as widely as possible rather than being centralized under the control of the state (socialism), individuals (plutocracy), or corporations (corporatocracy} . Distributism therefore advocates a society marked not by class or economic stratification, but by widespread property ownership, cooperatives, guilds, and small family businesses; a system that Distributists viewed as key to bringing about a just social order. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Distributism
No doubt the Sorting Hat would have suggested Ravenclaw for Tolkien, but Tolkien, like Harry, would have rebelled and in the end the Sorting Hat would have cried: “Better be Hufflepuff!”
BTW re Chris’s comment above, and mine: The modern day British Fabian Society is best described with the term ‘social democracy’, and owes as much or more to non-Marxian philosophers who advocated mixed economies like those favored by the Distributists.
John, thanks to you and Prof. Richards for a thought-provoking post.
Frankly I was not challenging any of the social issues raised in Prof Richards post as I couldn’t get past the inaccuracy of the examples used to substantiate his opinions. That was my beef. I doubt we can presume anything about JKR’s upbringing. And why would we want to?
In a tale as long and complex as Harry’s, there is ample opportunity for an author to assert her social and political views. In fact, Jo seems to have made room for more than usual. A little nod here or there to historical figures and social or political movements can help connect the dots and perhaps show us the path she herself has taken to arrive at her present belief system. Which is fun.
But I think it is important to recognize that this is not the point of the Hogwarts saga. She is not telling Harry’s story to enlighten us on social issues or the means to a more just society. These subplots prop up the interactions of the characters and exist to serve the main themes. Even though she has given us a more fully realized cast of characters than Dickens himself, this story is primarily about the inner journey of one boy. This story is about the deepest questions of life, of all life since the beginning of time. The meaning of our existence and our capacity to overcome fear, and thereby death, is what she is asking us to examine. All other issues raised within the narrative collectively pale beside the quest to understand love and mortality. While she shows intolerance and bigotry, for example, she never promotes a specific agenda as a solution. She is not lecturing us. They are there to help us share Harry’s ongoing struggle in ways we can identify with. These and other subplots are presented as a manifestation of the variety of ways humans respond to their most primal fears. Evil and good are not abstract. It shows the vulnerability of our essential humanity. This story reveals what we are truly capable of becoming. Harry is not fighting to overcome any of the social ills of his world. He is struggling to believe in his own goodness. The inside is bigger than the outside. It is the internal she is more concerned with and that is apparent on every page.
Also regarding Elves. There are Elves and there are elves. The Elves we have most contact with in Tolkien’s world are the Noldor exiles whose long melancholic history highlights their seclusion and separation from other races of their world. Professor Richards compares the Elves with JKR’s Wizards stating, “Both are a race of secluded magical beings in possession of powers beyond the pale of the mortals around them. Yet, they could not be more different. Although Tolkien’s elves are less powerful magically than the wizards, they are enlightened epicureans, but the wizards… not so much.” He makes it sound as though Jo failed to make her magical characters as worthy. Well, they are different, by design, completely different in every way.
Wizards are intentionally different because she is telling a different story, a deeply personal one. Tolkien’s story may be a sweeping saga of human history, but Jo’s story is of wizards who are human, mortal with fairly normal twentieth-century lives. They can do awesome magic, but she makes the point that magic doesn’t protect them from the usual set of human dilemmas. The last exchange between Fudge and the Muggle PM is the perfect illustration of this. Wizards are separated from the Muggles in theory by the Statute of Secrecy, but it is a diagonal-world where they walk down the same streets with Muggles everyday. Jo’s intention wasn’t to create a race aloof from and superior to the majority. Elves are other-worldly. They are like gods, closer to the angelic Valar than other races in Middle Earth. We never identify with the Noldor. Jo’s wizards, on the other hand, are really us….but of course, us with wands. Some of us are good, some not so good. Some of us are clever, smart and bookish, some are rather weak like Stan Shunpike or dodgy like Mungdungus. She makes certain to present the broadest possible variety of human characteristics and behaviors. She illustrates how differently they respond to fear, death, evil, loss, friendship and love. As much as I love the Elves, it must be said they are pretty one-dimensional and intentionally so. Jo’s characters don’t fail to be as great as Tolkien’s Elves, they were created for different worlds. The Elves are of the past and will fade. Wizards have a future and thanks to Harry, it’s bright.
Nana,
I think You make some pretty good points, actually.
In terms of comparing Rowling’s wizard’s with Tolkien’s elves, one thing you mention brings to mind the thematic (as opposed to literal story) level of both types, what they may potentially represent, and how an interesting contrast can be made of them.
For instance, you state “We never identify with the Noldor”, and say that that’ intentional on Tolkien’s part. I think a fair case could be made for your point.
My opinion on Tolkien’s Elves may be a bit off from those of the majority of his fans. My basic belief is that, from a thematic level, the Elves represent Norse paganism as a whole, both it’s potential, and ultimately, that same potential squandered by it’s own origins. Here’s where a bit of knowledge about Norse Viking culture comes in handy. The biggest fault of the Elves, as I see it, is that along with the virtues of pagan romanticism, they also embody it’s faults in the form of a kind of pessimism that seems historically to have been endemic in most mythological religions (note: here I’m differing recognized religions such as Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism or the three Abrahamic faiths from mythology proper).
G.K. Chesterton offers a good source for the pessimism of paganism in two chapters from his “Everlasting Man”; “Man and mythologies, The Demons and Philosophers, and The War of The Gods and Demons plus The End of the World.
A good link to all those chapters can be found here:
http://www.worldinvisible.com/library/chesterton/everlasting/content.htm
The end Chesterton talks about is the ultimate historical decline of paganism with the rise of Christianity. In a sense, it’s this downfall that most of Tolkien’s fiction is about, the transition from a largely pessimistic, pagan outlook, to one of hope in the form of Monotheism. It also details what happens to those who can’t embrace that hope. Which is why, for me, the Elves are a lot more ambivalent (I’d even hazard to say more trouble than they’re worth) than just this clean cut image that most fans seem to have.
Rowling’s wizard’s are a bit more interesting, in that they belong to a largely post pagan era, even though they are ostensibly it’s inheritors. As Rowling has said, she based her wizards off what she read about medieval and renaissance alchemy. Therefore, it makes sense to regard the mental climate or zeitgeist the wizard’s inhabit to be one that doesn’t stretch much beyond, say, about or around the Victorian era, when in reality belief in such practices were on the final legs. It’s last hurrah seems to have been with people like Edmund Waite, W.B. Yeats and Rudolf Steiner.
From this perspective, the wizards seem more living anachronisms rather than backwards. The irony is, Tolkien did the same by injecting the 20th century English Common Man back into the pagan era with Hobbits. Both authors present an interesting presentation of historical anachronisms.
I don’t know if any of that made sense or not. Sorry. That’s how the mind works if you’re a bookworm. Our motto: not crazy, just bookish!