The Unforgivable Curses

When you're obsessed with politics and political philosophy, like me, it somehow creeps into everything you do.

Take, for example, an innocent movie: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I'm watching the scene where Moody is demonstrating the Unforgivable Curses (spells that carry a life sentence in wizard prison, Azkaban). Suddenly I'm wondering how Rowling originally decided what they would be.

The Killing Curse is pretty obvious – that one must have been the first on the list. Next on the list: the Cruciatus Curse, or pure torture. This is not water-boarding or playing loud music, but excruciating pain making you wish you were dead. Another fairly obvious choice.

Finally, we have the Imperius Curse, total mind control, marking it a little different from the others. It doesn't inflict pain on its own – rather, according to the online Harry Potter wiki, it's "described as a 'wonderful release' from any sense of responsibility. The victim is relaxed, and carefreeingly obeys any order"

I find it interesting that the Imperius Curse is unforgivable regardless of what it is actually used to do. It doesn't matter if you 'Imperius' your spouse to get the groceries, rob a bank, kill someone, or merely eat his green vegetables. It is still unforgivable.

That must mean that – in the world of Harry Potter – it is considered fundamentally wrong to control another person's mind. The intention behind the control is irrelevant.

Further, the fact that millions of fans accept it without question leads me to believe that it stems from a universal truth.

I like to think that most Americans believe in inalienable rights – the core of which is the right to life and liberty. The Imperius curse violates a basic human right – the right to free will.

It would be very tempting though – if I had the power to control people – to use that power to get them to do what I want them to. Especially if what I want them to do is good for them – like eating green vegetables.

It's easy to rationalize violating another person's liberty in the name of altruism. If you believe you know what is right for a person and that the choices you would make for him are better than the ones he would make for himself, then it almost seems wrong not to take control and help him out, right?

Moreover, doing so gives you the satisfaction of protecting him from himself. You could even make an argument for the evils of free will that led him astray in the first place. Good thing he has you to be his keeper!

With enough rhetoric, you can convince people to give up their liberty willingly for the benefit of your control. However, if you're the government, your actions must be homogeneous, meaning the government can't take the liberty only from those who willingly surrender it. Its actions apply to everyone.

That is the problem of using the government to satisfy our philanthropic aspirations – for each person saying 'help me,' there is surely another saying 'leave me alone.' When the government moves beyond its intended function – protecting our lives and liberty – it must take power otherwise exercised by individuals.

In other words, the government violates our right to free will in exchange for a 'wonderful release' from the responsibility of our own decisions. Hmm, why does that sound familiar?

Too bad this isn't the wizarding world – some time in Azkaban might help our lawmakers remember the high cost of their good intentions.