Witchcraft

Many of us are at least passingly familiar with what are usually called the four pillars of Witchcraft or, more recently, the Witches’ Pyramid: To Know, To Will, To Dare, To Be Silent.

In the era of social media and of frantic attempts to catch people’s increasingly fleeting attention, the final part of this invitation, first uttered by occultist Eliphas Levi in Trascendental Magic, tends to fall flat. Silence, my dear Eliphas, doesn’t pay much nowadays, unless it goes with a catchy TikTok dance and a cat filter.

Eliphas, I’m sure, would have fit right in.

The hidden strength of silence

I have long subscribed to the idea that witchcraft, by definition, can’t have laws in a prescriptive sense but just long-held observations on what tends to work and what doesn’t and this rings true for one of the exhortations contained in the pyramid: to keep silent regarding one’s own magical work.

While I don’t think openly disclosing the aim and structure of a spell before it has reached its goal is always going to end badly (and some types of seduction spells or curses might even capitalize on the effect of forewarning one’s target), it is fair to say that it’s not a generally advisable thing to do in terms of efficacy.

If it works, who cares?

As an art that is mostly concerned with making things work, no matter how pretty or messy they might look or how much logical sense they seem to make, witchcraft doesn’t require lengthy philosophical explanations on why certain things, as a general rule, seem to work better than other or speculations on the reasons behind a distinctive feeling shared by many that choosing a certain way to do something simply feels to align properly with the forces at play. If it works, who cares, right?

However, many sorcerers and witches seem to be quite nerdy fellows (should we blame this on RPGs? Or on the ancient and cross-cultural fascination with books containing forbidden magic?), thus we tend to enjoy immensely trying to peek behind the curtain and get a glimpse of what gets magic ticking, of the inner and mysterious workings of the universe.

Fragility and over-exposure of spells

Most practitioners I have discussed this subject with have reported feeling like a spell, especially immediately before and after being cast, needs to be protected from over-exposure. Like a still frail shoot peeping out from the soil, or a temperamental soufflé rising in the oven, it feels like a newly born spell could be killed by overwhelming attention: every time its name is uttered is an over-generous watering or an anxious adjusting of the temperature.

Personally, I have come to the conclusion that a spell is a creature, and like all other creatures, and especially those that are not firmly anchored to a physical body, it can be swayed and shaped by other creatures’ opinions, feelings and expectations about them. This process, as any caring and attentive parent could tell you, is particularly relevant when it comes to creatures that are very young and have yet to find the shape they wish to inhabit in this world.

Ideas, projects, and magical boundaries

Have you ever kept a new idea or a budding project to yourself until you felt it was solid enough to withstand the attention of others and the vagaries of chance without getting warped by them? I am sure you have and that you can understand what I’m talking about.

Let the spell do what it must

When a spell comes into this world it is imbued with adamantine purpose and precise focus: it does not need to stop and eavesdrop on everything that is being said about it, to worry that the form it’s taking does not conform to the one others are expecting of it or to get confused by the conflicting emotions that are thrown at it.

We want our spell to take the shape that will work best in the moment and to sail proudly, or to saunter saucily, towards its goal. We certainly don’t want it to get overwhelmed with existential confusion and crippling social anxiety: we humans are already way too good at that on our own.

Silence as protection — even today

However, there are other reasons to observe silence in magic, aside from concerns about efficacy. Reasons that we may have thought would not be relevant anymore in contemporary democratic societies. But they are.

The assassination of Charlie Kirk (if you don’t know who he was I envy you, google him at your peril) has caused a stir in the witchcraft community last week, when, shortly after the news about his death came out, an article from a feminist online media platform dated to a few days prior started circulating on social media. In the article the writers described the process of getting in touch with witches offering their services on Etsy and paying them to curse Charlie Kirk. The whole thing had a tongue-in-cheek tone, sprinkled with a hopeful undertone of “Eh, what if it works?”.

I can’t link the article here because, after the initial backlash, it has been swiftly removed from Jezebel’s website and the whole thing has been addressed in a public statement.

Why silence still matters in modern times

I am not here to talk about Charlie Kirk, to discuss his death or to spout a few circumstantial and superficial phrases about political violence, instead I want to use this example to talk about why witchcraft is best performed in silence, even in contemporary “western” democracies.

The fallout after the Jezebel article perfectly encapsulates the potential unwanted consequences of being a little too open about what’s brewing in your cauldron: previously unconcerned people start questioning if it should be legal to sell spells at all, atavistic (and never really tamed) fear starts stirring even in the souls of staunch rationalists and religious fundamentalists are giddy with the smell of golden opportunities.

Deep-rooted fears and cautious minds

No matter how much the modern man or woman might swear that they consider magic to be just a kind of particularly colorful psychology or, at worst, a delusion that grips people with sub-par intellectual abilities, there is something deeply embedded in them that is conditioned to react to it with a healthy dose of caution.

If you don’t want to take my word for it, just try and ask someone if they would give you a personal concern of theirs so that you can curse them. You will find that precious few will do it and that the majority of those who dare are motivated by the desire to prove themselves above such things than by genuine unconcern, like a toddler that grits their teeth before a vaccination jab and later swears they were never afraid at all.

Magic still lives on the margins

Despite the efforts to present it as an entirely harmless pastime powered by pure (and sometimes exceedingly saccharine) spirituality, the most progressive democracies are not truly ready to embrace magic, and if witchcraft as a religion (in its many variations) has found some acceptance, the practice of witchcraft is still solidly in the fringes.

Reminding the public at large exactly WHY that ancient part of their brain shies away from what we do is not a good idea, and in the current political climate it gives religious fundamentalists in power the perfect excuse to unleash on us heretics the level of discrimination they have always dreamed of.

Go public if you can, but keep the lid on your cauldron

Being out of the broom closet (if your society, your job and your family make it possible) is a wonderful thing and I am not at all discouraging you from doing it, here I am writing about witchcraft in my very public website with my name all over it, but spells that are meant to achieve their goal shouldn’t be crafted in an open-kitchen witch lair.

Activism vs Witchcraft (and a final word)

“What about the activism-like type of spells that are supposed to be as public and widespread as possible?” I can well imagine some of you asking. Well, the fact is that activism and witchcraft are two different arts that work in different ways and it pains me to say that the vast majority of spells that are devised to be shared far and wide are not very good, magically speaking.

Personally, I find that even public spell campaigns like these need to have a secret inner skeleton to maneuver them if they are to have a chance to actually hit their target: the widespread attention is the fuel but something that is not visible to the public needs to be at the helm. You may say that it’s somewhat sneaky to conceal from people who should be allies the inner core of a magical work and you might be right about that but, hey, I’m a witch: what did you expect?

Look at your life and at the world around you to decide, with clarity, wisdom, a hint of mischief and a deep sense of responsibility, what spells you are going to create.
Do it. Then shut up about it.