His Dark Materials: Taking a Swipe at the Church

(amazon.co.uk image of the third book, dramatised in the third and recent BBC series)

The third series of the BBC version of His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman’s trilogy from the 1990s, finished last week. Like J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series published close in time, His Dark Materials is written for teenagers but has tremendous appeal for adults too. It was worthy of television dramatization, and the BBC version stayed reasonably close to the original. Pullman shows himself to be a master of imaginative fiction, and he draws on a number of spiritual and science fiction themes: witches, shamans, divination, soul animals, other worlds, and magical journeys. It is an enticing dish for anyone with an interest in ‘new age’ spirituality.

While the books are full of spiritual delights, Pullman’s more negative portrayals are reserved for organised Christianity. The oppressive enemy is the ‘Magisterium’, a direct reference to the Vatican. Pullman cleverly implicates Protestantism too, by having the Magisterium based not in Rome, but in Geneva, Calvin’s base and the original home of the Reformed churches. The supreme being that the Magisterium worships, known as the ‘Authority’, is not a divinity at all, but an angel who has become inflated with power (more like the traditional Satan than God, one might observe). His Dark Materials does not posit what might be greater than this dark angel, as there is no God in the books; transcending everything is simply the universe itself, its complexity, diversity, and beauty. Pullman, an agnostic by his own admission, has sided with humanists and atheists in arguments over religion, but has also enjoyed a good relationship with Rowan Williams, once the Archbishop of Canterbury, who likes the way that Pullman opens up the debate about God and religion.

I must admit that so do I, although there is a danger that work like Pullman’s represents Church-based Christianity wholly as an oppressive and negative institution. While it can be that, it is also many other things too, and there are many people in the churches who would concur with Pullman’s critique of the dangerous forces that lurk behind organised and hierarchical religion, especially when it seeks to control hearts and minds.

In calling the supreme being the ‘Authority’, and writing about its downfall, I do not think that Pullman is looking forwards in time. He is rather commenting on something that had already happened by the 1990s. God as authority had his days numbered in the decades before this. The God of the 21st century is not an authority but a guide and support, a benign and facilitative rather than strict and abusive parent, mirroring the values of the age. Of course, there are still Christians who bang on about ‘authority’, but research suggests that religious people today, at least in Europe, are less likely to seek an authority, more a sense of meaning and well-being, something to live their lives by.

In England, Hornsby-Smith’s research in the 1980s showed that the great majority of Catholics did not agree with or abide by the Church’s teaching on contraception, but this did not stop them identifying as Catholics. Large numbers also took issue with the Church’s doctrine on homosexuality. Research in post-communist Poland, the most Catholic country in Europe by sheer numbers of regular adherents, suggests that a majority of Catholics want the Church to be a spiritual support and facilitator of liturgy and pilgrimage rather than a teacher of moral doctrine attempting to influence national politics in that respect. Ireland, another country with a strong Catholic history, shows similar results. The clerical abuse cases have further undermined the concept of Church as moral authority. More widely than Catholicism, Woodhead and Heelas undertook research in Britain to show that the churches and religious movements that flourish in contemporary society stress meaning, individual journey, and a lively relationship with the spiritual, rather than rules and structures.

So Pullman’s description of the downfall of the supreme being as authority relates to a development that was already taking place rather than foreseeing it, or recommending it, much less bringing it about. In the contemporary world, many people are fully aware of the dangers of authoritative religion, which easily becomes abusive not only in the small-scale cult, but also in the international churches (one could argue persuasively that Jesus and the early Church were too).

As a religious and spiritual person, I enjoy reading and viewing work that seems to be undermining the very thing that supports me. The most obvious place where this occurs is in sacrilegious comedy. I feel that, if humans are made in the image of God and we have a sense of humour and can laugh at ourselves (let’s face it, the funniest humour is when people laugh at themselves), then it is a really good bet that God intended us to be that way. And so we can sit back, relax, and laugh while watching films and TV programmes like The Life of Brian and Father Ted. Yes, that would be an ecumenical matter, wouldn’t it?

It is also good to engage with more serious writing that questions religion through thought-provoking imaginative fiction like His Dark Materials. Of course, I identify more with its subversive heroes – Lyra, Will, and Mary Malone – than with the power-wielding agents of Pullman’s Magisterium. Fortunately, there are many nuns, monks, and priests who will too. And I do find myself wondering what kind of animal my daemon might be! So thank you, Mr Pullman, and God bless you, sir.