Words can be a spellbinding enchantment
Words + intention = enchantment
Words can act as an enchantment. This enchantment can be positive, neutral, or negative for the individual under the ‘spell.’
Being swept away by a skilled orator acting in good faith is an exalted version of enchantment; no wonder people flock to watch them. “Holding the audience in the palm of your hand,” is a compliment of the highest order for orators.
On the other hand, an enchantment can be solely leveraged to further the ends of the one casting it. Language can be used to disorient and prevent sensemaking. A skilled orator acting in bad faith can cause malevolence to spread.
The intention behind an enchantment is important. Some struggle to communicate clearly—they will often struggle to enchant. Others use the spellbinding effect as a cloak—a disguise—perhaps speaking in circles, or purposely using jargon to avoid matters at hand. (This is particularly effective if the receiver is so enchanted they don’t notice what’s happening.)
Have you ever spoken to an individual and suddenly realised 30 minutes have passed and nothing concrete has been said? Were they leading you down the garden path while you were dazed? ‘Word salad’—in the pop psychology context—seems an apt description; the antithesis of being clear and concise.
In A Prophecy of Evil: Tolkien, Lewis, and Technocratic Nihilism,1
quotes the Tolkien passage below, which describes the voice of the character, Saruman:“Low and melodious, its very sound an enchantment. Those who listened unwarily to that voice could seldom report the words that they heard; and if they did, they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they remembered only that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that it said seemed wise and reasonable.”
As the etymology suggests, an enchantment is likely more potent with an auditory rather than a ‘merely’ written aspect. An excerpt from The Hermetica: The Lost Wisdom of the Pharaohs corroborates this:
“In the ancient Egyptian language the sound of a word had a magical power which complemented its meaning—a view of language which we unconsciously retain when we talk of ‘spelling' a word.”
“Sing” and “song” influence the meaning of enchantment; perhaps a music concert is appealing because everyone tacitly submits to being enchanted together. Would sirens be so dangerous if they wrote and broadcasted enchanting prose instead?
Benebell Wen, in her interpretation of the I Ching, translates an incantation from Chinese to English and highlights:
“The sounds and rhythm of the line are more important than stating its meaning. . . it’s the sound of the words that hold power.”
In the Harry Potter universe, as far as I’m aware, spells and enchantments solely work when spoken with intention; an enchantment can sow chaos or restore order, a central tenet of the stories.
Although the written word alone appears to be a less potent form of enchantment, it should not be overlooked.
A video by Coffeezilla, “Corporate Jargon—Lying by Obscurity,” highlights an analysis that compares the Flesch Reading Ease score of CEOs’ shareholder letters of well-respected and scandal-ridden companies at the turn of the century.
The former had significantly higher Flesch Reading Ease scores in the “difficult to read” range rather than the “very confusing” range. The cloak used by the latter companies was particularly difficult to decipher or comprehend.
Go forth and enchant responsibly. Keep a Patronus Charm at hand, in case someone attempts to enchant maliciously.
It’s one of my favourite articles on Substack; as a devout fan of the Lord of the Rings film trilogy, it encouraged me to buy the books.
“They muddy the waters, to make them seem deep.”