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64 pages 2 hours read

Bruno Bettelheim

The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 1975

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Themes

Defending the Fairy Tale’s Violence

One of Bettelheim’s key objectives in writing The Uses of Enchantment is to defend the fairy tale from modern educators who denounce it as too violent for young children. Instead, such moderns prefer tamer realistic narratives that, on the surface, appear to mirror an urban American 20th-century child’s predicament more closely than a fairy tale set in a medieval-seeming European setting. For his part, Bettelheim finds such modern children’s literature too “shallow in substance that little of significance can be gained” (4). Such stories, in Bettelheim’s view, do not address a young child’s developmental problems, and they leave children feeling alone with their darkest and scariest imaginings. These stories’ wishful portrayal of a world where everyone is good seems untrue to children who “know that they are not always good” (7), and, being exposed to such literature exclusively, children risk becoming monsters to themselves. Conversely, fairy tales—which show young protagonists facing monsters and adults who want to destroy those protagonists prior to the happy ending—give the child reader a sense that they, like the protagonist, can cope with their most challenging problems.

Bettelheim remarks that the advent of psychoanalysis showed the truth about the destructive and sadistic nature of a child’s imagination, whereby he “not only loves his parents with an incredible intensity of feeling, but at times also hates them” (120). While such an internal state mirrors the good mother and evil stepmother motif present in fairy tales, the fairy tale’s detractors thought that the violence perpetrated between these malign adults and the child protagonists would be too much for a real child to handle. Such hatred is a disturbing fact for parents to contemplate, and it is at the root of their censorship of fairy tales. Bettelheim’s response is that the child’s anxieties and destructive urges will be present regardless of the parents’ censorship. While the fairy tale gives the child’s anxieties “form and body” (121) in addition to offering solutions (such as putting the tormenting witch in the oven and mastering her), a life without such tales forces the child to repress their fears in their unconscious. Without the fairy tale to show the child that their feelings are normal and common, the child may feel that they are uniquely bad for their violent impulses or rapacious appetites. A child feels safe and confident when they see the truth of their inner state mirrored in the tale. Additionally, the tale is set in a faraway, old-fashioned location; this distance enables the child to identify with the protagonist whilst at the same time remaining safe because they know that witches and ogres live in a land that is separate from their own.

Some parents also object to the medieval nature of the punishments dealt to fairy tales’ evildoers. For example, the witch in “Hansel and Gretel” is shoved into the oven, while the evil queen in “Snow White” is made to dance to death in red-hot shoes. While parents may fear that such punishments will scar children, Bettelheim maintains that children gain a sense of completion from seeing evil be humiliated, destroyed, and removed from a sphere where it can harm the protagonist. For example, the punishment of dancing to death in burning shoes, inflicted on the evil queen in “Snow White,” teaches the moral that “uncontrolled passion must be restrained or it will become one’s undoing” and that “only the death of the jealous queen (the elimination of all outer and inner turbulence) can make for a happy world” (214). Here, Bettelheim argues that the child reaches catharsis through the queen’s punishment, as they eliminate the jealous queen that rages rampant within them and identify with the ego-strengthened protagonist who is now rid of her.

Overall, Bettelheim contends that parents’ objections to fairy tale violence arise from their own wishful fantasies of uncomplicated peaceful narratives and loving, untroubled children. Under this view, such parents are in denial regarding both the complicated nature of their children and their own parental inability to protect them from the real world. Instead, Bettelheim argues, they should accept their children for the complex beings they are and provide them with tools, like the fairy tale, that help them confront the harshest aspects in life.

The Happy Ending as Promised Land

Bettelheim continually posits that a happy ending is the child’s reward for undergoing existential tribulations alongside the fairy tale protagonist. For Bettelheim, the happy ending is what differentiates the fairy tale from the myth and makes it “optimistic, no matter how terrifyingly serious some features of the story may be” (37). As the child identifies with the protagonist, the happy ending gives them hope for their own future. The vast majority of fairy tales Bettelheim selects have an unambiguously happy ending, and he judges those that do not—such as “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”—as being less useful to the child.

While Bettelheim considers that “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” deals with the important developmental problems of oedipal struggles and search for identity, as Goldilocks tries the different bears’ porridge and furniture, the bears’ indifference to her presence is problematic. At the end of the story, when Goldilocks jumps out of the window on the bears’ return and “they act as if nothing had happened but an interlude without consequences,” Bettelheim regards that such evasion symbolizes that “no solution of the oedipal predicaments or of sibling rivalry is necessary” (224). Bettelheim resents that Goldilocks’ sojourn with the bears did not substantially change either of their lives and “despite her serious exploration of where she fits in—by implication, of who she is—we are not told that it led to any higher selfhood for Goldilocks” (224). Without the protagonist modeling clarity about one’s identity and progression to the next stage of development, the happy ending is marred, and the child reader does not accrue “emotional maturity” (224). While Bettelheim states elsewhere in the book that fairy tales are works of art that work subconsciously and idiosyncratically in every child, his preference for a happy ending indicates the contradictory wish that stories should universally deliver reassurance and a sense of progression in the protagonists’ psyche.

In his New York Times review, John Updike stated that “neither Bettelheim nor the fairy tales doubt that they know what happiness is.” Both present happiness as a move towards independence and being ruler of one’s own kingdom. Most of all, the happy ending reaches its apotheosis in marriage, “which alone can take the sting out of the narrow limits of our time on this earth: forming a truly satisfying bond to another” (10). From a psychoanalytic perspective, marriage also represents the completion of the psychosexual stages of development, as the protagonist enters their genital phase, whereby they are an active participant in the world. However, while in fairy tales marriage means a lifelong bond and permanent happiness, in the 1970s when Bettelheim was writing, the unhappy marriage was well publicized, and between a quarter and a third of marriages ended in divorce (Wilcox, W. Bradford. “The Evolution of Divorce.” National Affairs. 2009). Moreover, feminist and gay liberation movements were beginning to propose alternative happy endings to heterosexual coupledom. Thus, while Bettelheim endorsed marriage as the happiest conclusion, his society was becoming disillusioned with the institution. For Updike, Bettelheim’s emphasis on the happy ending weakened his argument, as the writer saw that the psychoanalyst’s “enchanting presumption of life as a potentially successful adventure may be itself something of a fairy tale.” Certainly, the happy ending would seem to be a fairy tale for Bettelheim himself, who saw his first marriage end and who died by suicide after being widowed from his second.

However, according to Bettelheim, the unrealistic nature of a fairy tale ending is irrelevant to a child’s engagement with fairy tales. Bettelheim stipulates that at this early stage in human life, the most important thing is that the fairy tale’s happy ending reassures the child that everything will be okay if they take the risky next step towards independence and autonomy. Thus, a five-year-old in the throes of oedipal and separation anxiety who reads about a happy marriage between a prince and a princess, learns that the happy ending is “not made possible, as the child wishes and believes, by holding onto his mother eternally” (11). Instead, the “true interpersonal relation” symbolized by the marriage bond reassures the child that if they risk independence and go out into the world, they will re-encounter the kind of love they received from their mother (11). Bettelheim argues that for the child at this stage in development, such reassurance is enough to help them rely less upon their mother and look more towards their peers. When a parent tells a child a fairy tale, they encourage the child’s belief that independence will bring about a happy ending; the child gains the added reassurance that their parent believes in their ability to find happiness apart from them. Overall, then, the happy ending in fairy tales is less about the actual events of a life and more about the child’s capacity to confidently progress to the next stage in development.

Gender and the Interpretation of Fairy Tales

Bettelheim’s attitude to gender is contradictory. On the one hand, he stresses that all children can derive a personalized meaning from all fairy tales, regardless of the gender of the protagonist. For example, he shows how “Rapunzel,” a fairy tale in which the adolescent protagonist uses her long tresses to defy the sorceress and see her prince, was a favorite of both a seven-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy. The girl, who had suffered the loss of her biological mother and saw her father remarry, made an obvious identification with Rapunzel as “her stepmother was clearly the witch of the story, and she was the girl locked away in the tower” (131). Bettelheim adds that the girl’s sense of powerlessness also fed into the identification: The “‘witch had forcibly’ obtained” Rapunzel, “as her stepmother had forcibly worked her way into the girl’s life” (131). “Rapunzel” thus consoled the girl given that it reinforced her sense of autonomy and promoted the hopeful idea that a prince would come and rescue her from the situation.

While the girl’s experience in many ways paralleled Rapunzel’s and caused her to receive the most obvious form of consolation from the story, there was then the five-year-old boy from a single-parent family who was feeling insecure owing to his mother and grandmother’s temporary absences. This boy derived a unique meaning from the story. The elements that were important to him were the security of the tower in which the substitute mother (the sorceress) keeps Rapunzel, and the fact that Rapunzel could escape the situation through her muscular tresses, representing the strength of her own body. For the boy, “that one’s body can provide a lifeline reassured him that, if necessary, he would similarly find in his own body the source of his security” (17). Thus, when the boy’s main caretaker, his grandmother, was hospitalized, he derived consolation from the tale’s idea that he could rely on his own body to stay safe and grow up. Bettelheim concludes that the imagery and symbolism in the fairy tale has fluid and indirect applications and so can “have much to offer to a little boy even if the story’s heroine is an adolescent girl” (17). He implies that it is up to the child to derive meaning from the tale and they will do so in ways that are more creative and unpredictable than simply comparing their lives to those of the fairy tale protagonist. Still, there is some gender anxiety on Bettelheim’s part, as he seeks to reassure parents that this often-feminized form of literature will not emasculate their sons.

Even as Bettelheim argues that fairy tales about female protagonists can aid the development of young boys and so encourage empathy between the genders, he has the patriarchal tendency to portray the default child as male. This is obvious in his outdated use of the masculine pronoun “he” to refer to a theoretical, generalized child. While this practice reflects the academic style of the early 20th century, by the 1970s it had come under criticism by feminists for diminishing female subjectivity and experience.

Moreover, Bettelheim’s interpretations of female-centered fairy tales often reinforce harmful and limiting stereotypes about girls and women. He is not critical of the social and cultural contexts from which fairy tales arose or about their retrogressive messages about femininity and female fulfillment. This is evident in his discussion of the stepsisters in “Cinderella.” He makes clear that Cinderella, with her small feet, is the most desirable of the sisters, as her smallness contrasts with the largeness ascribed to males and is “especially feminine” (268). He writes that “to have such big feet that they don’t fit the slipper makes the stepsisters more masculine than Cinderella—therefore less desirable” (268). In order to fit the prescribed standard of feminine perfection, the sisters engage in “symbolic self-castration to prove their femininity” when they mutilate their feet in order to fit the slipper (268). Here, the stereotype of worthy, honest women like Cinderella, who are already perfect and only must be themselves to be desirable, is set against the stereotype of inadequate, dishonest women who deceive in order to fit an ideal. While Bettelheim believes that the child reader will identify with Cinderella, the stepsisters’ measures to become acceptable represent the bodily modifications women have perennially made in order to be more feminine and make men secure about their position. Some readers may therefore relate more to the sisters (and the culture that produced their anxieties) than to Cinderella’s good fortune. As these stepsisters do not fulfill the expectations of their gender, they do not meet a happy ending. While one could make the argument that the destruction of the stepsisters represents a destruction of vanity and deceit in the child’s psyche, the sisters being judged as lesser and unfeminine, based on patriarchal standards of bodily perfection, conveys a harmful message to young girls.

Although Bettelheim asserts that fairy tales can be interpreted in manifold ways and can serve children of both genders, his neglect of these tales’ patriarchal cultural and historical context limits his ability to sincerely affirm young girls’ identity. Instead, in Bettelheim’s interpretations, as in the tales themselves, girls are taught that they must form their identity within patriarchal expectations.

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