Liberty's Lost Generation

Seeing freedom in the world of Harry Potter

Are Millennials the least freedom-loving generation in American history? It sometimes looks that way. They’re the original Occupiers of Wall Street, the Bernie Bros, and the first generation since the start of the Cold War to decide in large numbers that socialism might actually be good. It’s true that a fair number warmed to Ron Paul way back in the Tea Party days, but that moment passed quickly. Millennials today just seem to want free everything: health care, childcare, college. They famously value teamwork over personal excellence, job security over opportunity, equality over innovation.

It’s not just Millennials, of course, but their de-conversion from freedom does seem especially significant. And we all know the usual explanations: the Millennials came of age at a rough moment. They felt “locked out” of adult society. They experienced volatile labor and housing markets, and their degrees and credentials, all those years of careful conditioning and hoop-jumping, didn’t open the kinds of doors they felt they had been promised. Though they were in many ways meticulously prepared for the future, the one they actually inherited held a lot of surprises. It’s disillusioning to prepare so arduously for adult life, and to find in the end that one is not prepared. The Millennials didn’t have to limp west in broken-down jalopies, like the Okies of the Great Depression. They never stood in bread lines. But they did find themselves struggling to make sense of a political and social world that felt disorienting and foreign. Which leads us to the subject of Harry Potter.

Millennials grew up with Harry Potter. It has a special emotional resonance for them, as the book series that most defined their generation. J.K. Rowling, herself Generation X, just turned 60; the oldest Millennials are now in their mid-40s. The (Millennial) British writer, Louise Perry, recently suggested in a New York Times opinion piece that the Millennial generation’s attachment to Harry Potter (and subsequent generations’ comparative lack of enthusiasm for the same) reflects the larger struggle over liberalism and, more specifically, the post-war neoliberal mindset that suffused the 1990s. Perry makes some strong points. There are unquestionably neoliberal and even proto-DEI themes in Harry Potter; good characters favor inclusion and well-run institutions, while the Death Eaters might as well be painted with swastikas. But Perry may be too quick to dismiss Rowling’s vision, which is deeper and more nuanced than the article suggests.

Harry Potter is not The West Wing. It wrestles rather seriously with questions about institutional probity, the use of unjust means to attain good ends, and the relationship between nature and tradition. I may have a particular skepticism of Perry’s analysis because I myself, ten years older than her (and at the tail end of Generation X), enjoyed but never obsessed over the Harry Potter books, but my Zoomer and Generation Alpha children absolutely love them. They don’t seem to find them dated. That’s anecdotal, but there’s also this: after reading the first few Harry Potter books (to my younger siblings as a 20-something), I fully expected the broader trajectory to arc back to a resounding affirmation of a recognizable liberal worldview, but the final three books simply amazed me. They still undeniably have Nazi notes; if anything those are most prominent in the final book. But the inclusion theme fades into the background as the story charges headlong into a bracing exploration of meaty moral and metaphysical questions of perennial interest. The last two books are really an extended exploration of the question, “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

I don’t think Millennials need to outgrow Harry Potter. If anything, they should read it again. In particular, they should read it with their minds on the subject of freedom, because this series does have a powerful pro-freedom message, especially embodied in the character of Dobby the Elf. Dobby offers an unusual sort of perspective on what freedom means, and why we should want it. He is not in any traditional sense an empowered or “successful” character. He doesn’t even seem to desire the kind of creative self-actualization that modern people tend to associate with freedom, and that young people in particular crave. Precisely for that reason, Dobby offers a moving illustration of what freedom is truly for.

Dobby’s story merits particular attention, not only because Millennials know and love him, but also because his character highlights aspects of liberty that are particularly relevant to them in light of their unhappy life experiences. Rowling uses house elves, a subservient race of helper-beings, to explore uncomfortable dimensions of freedom that her Millennial readers understand all too well. In short, it’s burdensome, and not everyone wants it. Those who do want it will often use it badly. By presenting readers with lovable elf characters who explicitly desire servitude, Rowling raises real ambiguity as to whether all people either deserve or are better off living under conditions of freedom. Ultimately, however, Dobby resolves the question in favor of freedom. He bears no resemblance to a Patrick Henry or a Paul Revere, but in his way, Dobby is a true champion for liberty.

When we first meet him in Book Two of the Harry Potter series (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets), Dobby is not per se yearning for freedom. He is however quite ardent in his pursuit of another noble goal: saving the life of Harry Potter. As a house elf, Dobby is magically bound by the will and command of the specific wizarding family to which he is attached. Unfortunately for him, he is bound to the evil Malfoys, a family of dark wizards with malevolent designs on Harry. As a member of the household, he knows their evil plots. But as their house elf, he is magically impeded from thwarting them, and even the effort triggers an irrepressible impulse to self-punish. Throughout the book we see Dobby soldiering on, strategizing ways to save Harry despite this ghoulish handicap, which regularly compels him to inflict injury on himself (beating his head into walls, ironing his own hands, shutting his ears in the oven door) as an unavoidable consequence.

When Harry finally devises a way to free Dobby at the end of Book Two, he is overjoyed. That’s hardly surprising given that freedom, in this case, means an escape from the evil Malfoys and the torture they’ve inflicted on him. It’s interesting to note, though, that Dobby, up to this point, has never expressed the desire to be free. He receives freedom as a gift from Harry, the person he most loves, and in that context, he embraces it. Readers should note, though, that the story didn’t need to be written that way. One can hardly doubt that Dobby would likewise have rejoiced if his bond of servitude had simply been “transferred” from the Malfoys to Harry. Importantly, that’s not what happened. Harry gave Dobby freedom, and he accepted it. Henceforth, Dobby is a free elf.

Moving on into the later books, we might expect to see Dobby radically transformed by his newfound freedom. He could have become the Spartacus of house elves, leading a revolution among his people. He could have, in a Tolkien-esque twist, become the secret weapon that ultimately brings down Lord Voldemort. None of that happens. As the books proceed, Hermione becomes obsessed with freeing the house elves en masse, a cause youthful Millennials might have warmed to with enthusiasm. But it turns out that everyone else (particularly Ron) views her cause with derision, and readers may be surprised to find that Rowling herself clearly presents Hermoine in this case as a pie-in-the-sky activist at war with reality. She wants to free the house elves, but they simply don’t want to be free. Hermione’s activism simply wastes her own time and demonstrates her failure to understand the house elves’ true nature. In this case, Ron’s stodgy traditionalism turns out to be wiser. He appreciates, as she does not, that house elves genuinely love to serve.

Most of the house elves we encounter in the series do in fact seem quite happy. So long as their master is good to them, they revel in their life of bondage. Ron insists, seemingly correctly, that it is pointless, and perhaps even cruel, to try to foist freedom upon creatures not suited to it. In Aristotelian terms, the house elves appear to be natural slaves, people best suited to servitude and not fit for freedom.

Dobby is the exception case, but even though he remains proudly free across the later Harry Potter books, it’s unclear until the final scene (to be discussed shortly) what we should make of this. After his release from the Malfoys, he goes to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts, accepting remuneration for his work, but only a pittance. (Dumbledore is willing to pay him a real wage, but that’s a bridge too far even for Dobby. He is most comfortable with a nominal, token wage.) He remains deeply devoted to Harry, and assists him at several critical junctures, but in other respects, his life seems substantially similar to that of an ordinary Hogwarts house elf. He shows no interest in Hermione’s liberation efforts. This raises a reasonable question: Does Dobby actually flourish in freedom, or is he de facto Harry’s bonded house elf, embracing the title of “free elf” only because that’s what Harry wants for him? He could just represent a curious case of a natural slave who feigns freedom in deference to his true master.

Rowling allows that ambiguity to linger all the way through the final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Here she finally resolves the freedom debate in a single brilliant move, gut-punching readers with their own willingness, up to that moment, to view Dobby as an unserious character. It’s surely one of the most powerful scenes in the entire series.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione have been taken captive by Death Eaters. Harry is being held with several others in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor while Hermione is tortured upstairs. He manages to get a message to Aberforth Dumbledore, who sends Dobby to rescue the captives. This is possible because the Malfoys, though they have protected their home with myriad enchantments, forgot that house elves have their own special forms of magic which can penetrate the shield. (This is one of several instances throughout the series when wizards, in their arrogance, overlook the power of house elves.) Dobby begins transporting prisoners to safety as quickly as he can, while Harry and Ron manage to break out of the dungeon and race upstairs to rescue Hermione. Seeing them, Bellatrix Lestrange holds a knife to Hermoine’s throat, forcing Harry and Ron to drop their wands.

At this point, Dobby returns. Fearlessly confronting his former torturers, he releases a massive chandelier on Lestrange’s head, freeing Hermione. Lestrange howls with rage and asks how Dobby, a “stupid monkey,” can dare to defy his masters. He replies, defiantly, “Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!” They escape, but Lestrange manages to throw her magical knife as they vanish, and Dobby dies in Harry’s arms, speaking his name.

Dobby remains, to the end, a house elf. He doesn’t care about self-actualization, the franchise, or any other high-flown ideals. He doesn’t even show much concern about Voldemort and the larger fight with the Death Eaters. His passion is for love and service, and particularly service of Harry, an actual person. This is Dobby’s consistent motivation, from the opening comic scene in the Dursley kitchen through his wrenching death at the hands of his former tormenters. Dobby loves Harry as a true and loyal friend. He wants to dedicate his life to protecting Harry. But that love is ultimately better, and his final sacrifice more perfect, because he is a free elf. Harry gave Dobby freedom, and in consequence, Dobby is now free to lay down his life for Harry’s.

Throughout the Harry Potter series, Rowling uses mythical creatures to explore particular aspects of human nature, “bracketing out” particular aspects of the human condition so that we can consider them in isolation. House elves show a loyalty and devotion that is unmediated by vanity, personal ambition, or any more abstract commitments. It can be slavish. But it can also be beautiful, and Dobby’s character shows why freedom enhances that beauty even for people with no attraction to adventure, high-minded causes, artistic achievements, or entrepreneurial success. The humility of Dobby’s character underscores the message. Every rational nature can be elevated by freedom. It is always nobler to choose good things than to have them chosen for us.

It’s easy to forget this when life disappoints us, when we feel frustrated and insecure, and particularly when we see others using their freedom in ways that seem unfair or corrupt. People who feel “locked out” of society’s greatest pleasures may start clamoring for “a system that works for me.” They may conclude that more aggressive central management is needed to promote justice, inclusion, and community. They may even accept that that course will require sacrifices of prosperity or opportunity; sometimes those trade-offs seem worth it, in exchange for an imagined world of greater security, fairness, and social trust.

We should know by now that those promises are usually illusory. Countless tyrants across history have persuaded themselves that they are not reducing their population to fearful servitude, but merely giving them the blissful harmony of the Hogwarts house elves. It’s never true, of course. Corruption, inequality, and gross violations of human rights are all characteristic of statist regimes, which also tend to have the effect of undermining public trust. But even if we could all be happy as house elves, should we want that? Shouldn’t we prefer the blessed burden of freedom?

Not everyone does. But everyone should. When a whole society seems to be losing sight of the importance of freedom, it’s important to find touchpoints that can help them remember why it matters. Millennials certainly aren’t the only Americans who are losing interest in freedom, nor is this the first time self-described “socialists” have found a place in our public square. But this would be an especially good time to foster a greater appreciation of freedom among the not-so-young adults who must increasingly shoulder the burden of preserving our institutions and culture. Millennials, like all generations, face their own unique challenges, and sometimes their elders have been unhelpful in providing the needed perspective and guidance. But the stories of our youth tend to be particularly resonant, even in middle age, and Rowling loomed large in the development of today’s 30-something adults. She is more than just an apologist for bland neoliberalism, and may actually offer an entry point into fruitful conversations. If Millennials need help entering more seriously into questions about the value of freedom, it may be time to remind them of the moving story of Dobby, the free elf.

Rachel Lu is an associate editor at Law & Liberty and a contributor at National Review and America Magazine.