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Archetypes Of Magic And Power
- Craig Deininger
- 12 minutes ago
- 7 min read
With September we shift our focus to the magician archetype, which shows itself in many guises: wizards, witches, warlocks, shamans, alchemists and, even, our contemporary street-magicians, to name only a few. What exactly is magic? Well, that’s a complex inquiry, ranging anywhere from tactful trickery to genuine miracles, from subjective experience to so-called objective fact. We do know it has a lot to do with perspective—with what Jung would call “psychic reality” or “the conscious attitude,” or what Heisenberg might call “the uncertainty principle.”
Let me start the bidding by saying we’re all magicians in our ways, capable of influencing matter from afar. By merely uttering a spell of encouragement (aka: some thoughtful words), we can lift the spirits of a friend (along with the corners of their mouth). We can even activate their supposedly autonomous parasympathetic nervous system, have it send some much-needed serotonin into the bloodstream. Conversely, we can spoil the taste of food—can summon in others the physical sensations of nausea through an all-too-graphic description of some nasty thing at the dinner table. While instances of magic more powerful than these are forthcoming, this inquiry examines the consequences of how we align or misalign ourselves with the “magical” powers we possess and, especially, with those far-greater powers that we are given on loan, as it were, like life.
we’re all magicians in our ways
The “apparent” power imbalance
Within the realm of magician-figures, one pattern is certain: that the immediate (and apparently, greater) power keeps going to the “bad guys”—to those who work to deceive, conquer, destroy. These dark magicians are always highly intelligent and very clever. But like the sudden conflagration of some highly combustible thing thrown onto a fire, their dominating power burns away with naught but the mess left in its wake (and we could say the same for their souls). But then, destruction is easy compared to the work one must undertake to heal, repair and sustain. This deeper power-source is rooted in a wisdom that transcends cleverness and isolated, egoic gain. It requires not only an ability to recognize the value of being in relationship with the cosmos, but also a willingness (if not eagerness) to contribute to its designs.
On this note, consider some of Joseph Campbell’s poignant insights on the matter:
It has been customary to describe the seasonal festivals of so-called native peoples as efforts to control nature. This is a misrepresentation. There is much of the will to control in every act of man, and particularly in those magical ceremonies that are thought to bring rain clouds, cure sickness, or stay the flood; nevertheless, the dominant motive in all truly religious (as opposed to black-magical) ceremonial is that of submission to the inevitables of destiny. No tribal rite has yet been recorded which attempts to keep winter from descending; on the contrary: the rites prepare the community to endure, together with the rest of nature, the season of the terrible cold. And in the spring, the rites do not seek to compel nature to pour forth immediately corn, beans, and squash for the lean community; on the contrary: the rites dedicate the whole people to the work of nature's season. (The Hero with a Thousand Faces, 384)
With these pieces in place, let’s dive into this week’s film. Wizards (1977) is an animated, post-apocalyptic fantasy film written and directed by Ralph Bakshi that made its debut just a few months before Star Wars (which also has its version of the magician archetype: the Jedi). Of note, Bakshi employs a rather magical technique called rotoscoping which blends live-action footage with animation, rendering a strange sort of “interworld” effect that appeals to both the realistic and imaginal sensibilities, simultaneously.
In brief, the tale concerns two wizards born as (very non-identical) twins: Avatar (the hero) and Blackwolf (the nemesis) who, together, personify the archetypal duality of the relative (no pun intended) that we see in other myths like the Egyptian Osiris and Seth and the biblical Cain and Abel. Avatar’s domain comprises the nature-regions that have escaped destruction or have begun to heal, inhabited by fairies, elves and humans. Whereas Blackwolf’s domain, the land of Scorch (which is as it sounds), is inhabited by mutant-monsters who emerged after the war. Within this setting, a conflict unfolds between nature-oriented, old-world wisdom and technology-oriented, modern-world intelligence.
Media mythologized
Blackwolf possesses two key technological weapons in his quest to (of course) dominate the world. The first is Necron 99 (an assassin-robot engineered by Blackwolf himself), who rides the land searching for victims. The second is a 1930s-era film-projector Blackwolf has salvaged and restored, powered by two sad-but-lovely, finger-sized fairies tied to a crank they’re forced to turn.
I’ll leave Necron 99 to wander off (although the narrative provides both positive and negative aspects to this figure, making it a fitting analogue to AI). The projector-weapon, however, merits more consideration as it aptly addresses the high volume of abuse (i.e., evil spells) of audio/visual media we are witnessing today. It’s amusing (in a synchronistic way) that the weapon is literally a “projector,” making the psychological notion of projection inescapable—and reminding us that the phenomenon itself is also inescapable. So the story unfolds, enacting the dangers and destruction that accompany malicious projection and the absence of thoughtful reflection.
Rationally problematic is that there’s no actual screen upon which Blackwolf’s terrifying and debilitating imagery is cast. Rather the content somehow fills the atmosphere (a premonition of wifi?) and saturates the minds and moods of all in its field. But the message is clear, revealing the adverse psychological effects inflicted by aggressive, cleverly engineered propaganda. In short, the targets believe what they see. And by capturing the subjective reality, Blackwolf captures the subjects. According to French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss (author of the germinalThe Savage Mind), this is a significant aspect to magic that emphasizes intelligence, cleverness, sleight-of-hand (and of-mind) techniques, and very much the assistance of technology to accomplish these ends (Structural Anthropology, 167-69). While we might categorize such magic as “tricks,” their effects remain real to the psyche. And so, what counter-spells might we cast to mitigate such reckless power? Well, if it’s not too awkward, let’s consult with Dungeons & Dragons.
Dungeons & Dragons got it right!
At an early age, I was won over by this role-playing game. Call it my introduction to myth—and a very effective one, in my opinion. Not surprisingly, I wanted to play a character capable of powerful magic. I naturally presumed that to play a mighty wizard (“magic-user” in D&D) one would need wisdom. So I allocated my highest abilities-scores to that attribute only to learn later that the really cool spells required a higher intelligence score—and by “really cool” I mean the kind that exerted power over the natural order—essentially, Blackwolf stuff.
Fortunately (though not to me at the time), the Dungeon Master held me to my choice, and so I was forced into one of the few classes that do benefit from a high wisdom score: the Druid, who (unlike the solitary magic-user) functions in service to the natural order of the cosmos. But the spells they cast were far less exciting as they pertained “merely” to healing, nurturing and tending, whereas I (being twelve) simply wanted to kick ass.
These recipes and allocations of two very different kinds of magical power are not arbitrary. In fact, the dynamics of service and contribution that Campbell addresses above just may be the chief feature that distinguishes wisdom from intelligence (in the present context). Granted, I’m not suggesting we do away with intelligence (however one-sidedly I may have contextualized it here). But we might do well to attend to Dungeons & Dragons’ take on wisdom so that we might incorporate more of it.
A sacrifice
We’ve all seen how easily and unconsciously one can fall into the trap of dark magic and self-serving power like Blackwolf (and like you perhaps might have at twelve). The wisdom of Avatar was surely a thing earned not by smarts but through decades of contact with the cosmos—fashioned, as it were, and tempered with a thoughtfulness and appreciation for the miracle of things as they are. But our wisdom has never kept up with our intelligence or our technology. Not even close. A simple survey of the history of industry and politics, its wars and threats of wars—not to mention, the sheer volume of damages (even in times of peace) wrought upon the flora and fauna and earth, itself (cf. “Scorch”). We say we’ve “inherited” this place, but that invites notions of possession. Maybe we’d do better to say we’ve been “given” a window to participate in all the magic that’s already here? And with that, roll up our sleeves and get on with the work of contributing?
Thanks for reading!
MythBlast authored by:
Craig Deininger has been writing for the JCF Mythblast series since 2018. He has taught at Naropa University, Studio Film School in Los Angeles and the University of Massachusetts at Amherst where he earned an MFA in poetry. He also earned an MA and PhD in Mythology and Jungian Psychology from Pacifica Graduate Institute in California. He has counterbalanced his studies with manual work in fields like big ag farming, landscaping, commercial fishing, trail-building, framing houses and so on. He is grateful to have somehow made it to later life after too many outdoor misadventures in backpacking, rock climbing, hiking and, especially, trying to get too close to wildlife that doesn’t want to be gotten-too-close-to. His poetry has appeared in several literary magazines including The Iowa Review, and his first book of poetry Leaves from the World Tree was co-authored with mythologist Dennis Patrick Slattery and published by Mandorla Books.
This MythBlast was inspired by The Hero With a Thousand Faces and the archetype of The Magician.
Latest Podcast
This lecture, “Mythology – The Path (Part 2),” was recorded in 1980 at Yellow Springs, Pennsylvania. In it, Joseph Campbell continues the discussion from Part 1, presenting mythology as a path of discovery. Here, he focuses on the search for “the self,” drawing on Jungian language and archetypes. The recording also includes a brief Q&A following the lecture. Please note: around the 42-minute mark, the original tape speeds up slightly. While this affects the sound quality, the content of Campbell’s talk remains intact. Host Bradley Olson introduces the lecture and offers commentary at its conclusion.
This Week's Highlights
"It has been customary to describe the seasonal festivals of so-called native peoples as efforts to control nature. This is a misrepresentation. . . . No tribal rite has yet been recorded which attempts to keep winter from descending; on the contrary: the rites prepare the community to endure, together with the rest of nature, the season of the terrible cold. And in the spring, the rites do not seek to compel nature to pour forth immediately corn, beans, and squash for the lean community; on the contrary: the rites dedicate the whole people to the work of nature's season."
-- Joseph Campbell