Philip Pullman, the author of Northern Lights, may prove to be to children's literature what Richard Dawkins is to science. Both of their writings express a negative opinion of Christianity and its institutions that falls little short of hatred. The difference is that Dawkins uses every opportunity to publicly proclaim the perceived dangers of faith, whereas Pullman has cloaked his convictions in the drama and delight of an award-winning children's series.
Northern Lights is the first book in the His Dark Materials trilogy by Pullman that has received commendations from The Guardian newspaper, as well as becoming the winner of the Carnegie Medal and the Children's Book of the Year from the British Book Awards. It describes an alternative universe to our own that is in many parts the same, and yet disturbingly different. There is an Oxford University that is the centre of scholarship, but its lecturers have more in common with crusty courtiers and 19th century explorers. Witches inhabit the icy reaches of the far north but far from being horrible hags, they are the guardians of nature in the form of ageless, beautiful women. And religion is represented by the almighty Church, an organisation that somehow avoided the Reformation but still jettisoned the Pope, leaving the Magisterium in control, a religious council that oversees every political and scientific development.
Probably the biggest difference, however, is that each and every human being in this alternate world possesses a daemon (pronounced ‘demon’) " a creaturely companion that acts as something of an external apparition of their spirit / conscience / soul. As people age, these daemons take on a fixed form that reflects their essential character " a fox, a goose, a snake " but for children, whose lives are full of possibility, the forms of their daemons flicker from one animal, bird or insect to the next, depending on their mood.
Out of this world emerges the key character of Lyra Belacqua, a young girl born to great but indifferent parents who are themselves engaged in a battle for the control of not only their own world, but its myriad variations that are somehow connected. Lyra leads a collection of unlikely allies who represent the natural elements as well as the pure sciences " a witch queen, an armoured talking bear and a race of Gypsy wanderers " to stand against the adult forces that would decimate everything good in their quest for control. However her chief ally is the mysterious and unnamed wisdom that moves the golden compass she possesses, a device that can only tell the truth.
Even such a brief description should highlight the romantic characters and elements that have made Pullman's series a best-seller for the past twelve years. It might also go some way to explaining New Line Cinema's decision to release Northern Lights as a film titled The Golden Compass. The feature stars luminaries like Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig and Eric Bana, and is timed for a Christmas release this year. Prudence would suggest, however, that some attention be paid to the book which has spawned this popular attraction, and is likely to gain increased attention as a result.
Pullman has received little criticism for his description of the Church in Northern Lights, but much more is warranted. It is arguably the Church of a different dimension, one which would emerge if it were given the chance to assume significant political power. But the differences are only ones of opportunity, not character. It is a cruel organization that seeks to direct political debate as well as scientific discovery, and is quick to pronounce a discovery as heresy should it fail to accord with its own world view. In the book, the Church is afraid of the detection of a new atomic particle called "Dust' which it believes to be evidence of humanity's original sin, even though scientists suggest otherwise. Its fears drive it to kidnap children and subject them to some truly barbaric experiments in the name of understanding and eliminating this Dust.
Pullman's opinions of the Church are best revealed in the nature of the experiments that the Church's henchmen carry out. The daemon's each child possesses are the equivalent of their essential identity, their soul. Church workers capture the children and use equipment to cut off their daemons, the equivalent of some sort of spiritual emasculation. Thereafter the child becomes dull and almost lifeless, a virtual zombie in comparison to the lively and mischievous creature it was before the operation. The process is also terrifically painful and emotionally distressing, prompting to Lyra to demand from Mrs Coulter (the theologians' willing right hand), why the Church doesn't just leave them alone"
"Mrs Coulter was shaking her head and smiling a sad wise smile.
"Darling," she said, "some of what's good has to hurt us a little, and naturally it's upsetting for others if you're upset" But it doesn't mean your daemon is taken away from you. He's still there! Goodness me, a lot of grown-ups have had the operation. The nurses seem happy enough, don't they?"
Lyra blinked. Suddenly she understood [the nurses'] strange blank incuriousity, the way their little trotting daemons seemed to be sleepwalking.'
The Church's explanation for its ruining of these children is at best ignorant, at worst self-serving. In fact it is not long before this ecclesiastical body is shown to be directly responsible for the creation of a large number of sick and sad human beings who have somehow been divided from the very thing it means to be alive.
"Dust' is supposed by the Church to be the root of all evil but Pullman reveals that it is more likely to be something essential to the consciousness of human beings. He even provides a retelling of the Fall of Humanity from Genesis with daemons and Dust slotted into their appropriate places. Under Pullman's ministrations Lyra comes to the conclusion that if the Church is in fact the perpetrator of gross injustices then it is likely that nothing it says can be trusted, even its ideas about the origins of evil. So Pantalaimon, Lyra's daemon concludes:
" "We've heard them all talk about Dust, and they're so afraid of it, and you know what? We believed them, even though we could see that what they were doing was wicked and evil and wrong" We thought Dust must be bad too, because they were grown-ups and they said so. But what if it isn't? What if it's " "
She said breathlessly, "Yeah! What it it's really good" " '
I would be the first to admit that the church, that human organisation that represents Christ's family, has in its humanity been guilty of some poor thinking and some worse actions. But Pullman's attack is directed at the Church in all of its manifestations, including its claim to understand the nature of our existence and the root causes of the problems we face. What Northern Lights represents is a Dawkins-style attack written for a child's eyes, but with no less vitriol. It's not surprising that the Church he presents has no Bible to speak of, and no Lord to lead it. Pullman's accusations would only be easily deflected by a flesh and blood Jesus. The only thing he can hope to do is pretend that in this world at least, the greatest example of love and concern for all children never existed at all.
