Phillip Pullman’s series His Dark Materials depicts a world that, at first glance, seems to be absent of any semblance of a traditional moral compass. Distinctions between “good” and “bad” characters are blurred, as many characters demonstrate the same strengths and weaknesses and even actions as those to whom they are opposed within the context of the plot. Lyra, the main female protagonist, exhibits this moral confusion most noticeably. Despite being a habitual liar, she still remains distinct as a sympathetic character. Upon close examination, however, Lyra’s character reveals that the author has not completely dispensed with all morality, but has rather instituted a contradictory combination of moral and amoral perspectives, particularly concerning the nature of deceit. To understand this morality, one must first examine Lyra’s purposes for lying. Secondly, Lyra’s recognition of and aversion to the lies of others also provides a source of insight. Thirdly, the morality of the author can be noted in Lyra’s defense of her own character when accused of deceitfulness. Finally, Lyra’s truthfulness in her encounter with the harpies reveals most clearly the unoriginal and contradictory reality of the author’s “new” morality. Through these illustrated attitudes of Lyra towards lying, Pullman demonstrates a positive perspective towards integrity of motive and person even while he argues contradictorily against the traditional guilt and sin associated with deceit by religion.
The purpose and motivation behind the lies of Lyra compared to the deceit of “evil” characters reveals the most obvious assertion made by the author concerning his perspective on the morality of deceit. Though Lyra, a protagonist, is herself a liar, a contrast demonstrating the differences between “good” and “bad” lies becomes apparent in those places where both Lyra and an opposing character lie in order to accomplish their respective goals. This can be most clearly seen when that opposing character is Mrs. Coulter, who like Lyra also uses deceit as her primary means of manipulating circumstances. The situation at Bolvangar in The Golden Compass provides one of these vivid examples of the similarity of method and difference of purpose between the lies of Lyra and Mrs. Coulter. Lyra must “pretend harder than she’d ever done in her life” in order to protect her friends, the gyptians who are approaching the station, from the knowledge of Mrs. Coulter (281). Until Mrs. Coulter arrived at Bolvangar, Lyra had been busy lying about her identity and her intelligence in order to find a way to rescue the other children imprisoned along with her (238). Lyra’s reasons for lying are obvious: she lies to save others and protect herself. As she explains at the end of The Amber Spyglass, “I could only survive in some places by telling lies and making up stories” (512). Mrs. Coulter also lies to Lyra at the same time Lyra lies to her, trying to convince Lyra of the benefits of intercision despite its horrifying nature (283-284). Her reasons for such deceit are revealed soon after, when it becomes evident that she has only been trying to convince Lyra of her saintliness in order to get the alethiometer and keep Lyra from running away (285). Mrs. Coulter’s motivations are also simple: she lies for the purpose of manipulating a situation to gain absolute control over those to whom she lies.
This contrast in motivation seems easily recognized when separated from the main body of the text, but such an interpretation of “good” and “bad” lying is harder to distinguish when one considers that Lyra is not a character who only lies because the situation requires her to do so. Rather, Lyra’s ability to lie is expressed as a talent that comes in handy in that particular situation, not a necessary evil that Lyra reluctantly chooses. Lying takes on definition as a strength that Lyra has practiced and appreciates: “With every second that went past, with every sentence she spoke, she felt a little strength flowing back. And now that she was doing something difficult and familiar and never quite predictable, namely lying, she felt a sort of mastery again, the same sense of complexity and control that the alethiometer gave her…she had to be an artist, in short” (Compass 281). For a reader who holds to a traditional morality, this lack of regret and the celebration of deceit on the part of a major protagonist presents difficulties when one attempts to sympathize with Lyra completely. The word “control” brings to mind the reasons for aversion toward the manipulations of Mrs. Coulter, clearly an evil antagonist. Not only does this association create an obstacle, but lying has also traditionally never been considered “right” in most cultures and religions, even if a situation forces lying for survival. In short, Lyra, though lying for obviously noble reasons, does not denounce lying through resulting guilt or regret during or after her act of deceit, a problem for traditional morality. Rather, her ability to lie is depicted by the author as a talent, only made better by the way that Lyra uses it. In this way, the only distinction between Lyra and Mrs. Coulter becomes their reasons for lying, not their deceit itself. Though their motivations remain distinct, lying still remains a helpful, amoral talent for both protagonist and antagonist.
A situation similar to that at Bolvangar occurs in Svalbard, the kingdom of the bears. Lyra skillfully deceives the bear king Iofur Raknison in order to save herself and give her bear friend and the rightful king, Iorek Byrnison, a chance to fight to recover his throne (Compass 343). Once again, her motivation is the preservation of life, both her own and that of her friends. Later in the story the reader discovers from the mouths of the bears that Mrs. Coulter also lied to Iofur Raknison, though for much different reasons than her daughter: “Little by little she [Mrs. Coulter] was going to increase her power over Iofur Raknison, and his over us, until we were her creatures running back and forth at her bidding, and our only duty to guard the abomination she was going to create” (357). Mrs. Coulter once again uses deceit in order to bring more power and control to herself, to restrict freedom, and to support her evil plans. Again, the lies of Lyra and her mother are differentiated by their motivations and purposes.
Also similar to the situation at Bolvangar, however, is the attitude of Lyra toward her talent for lying. Again, Lyra’s deceit seems disconcertingly close to what would be considered the evil of Mrs. Coulter: “The great bear was helpless. Lyra found her power over him almost intoxicating, and if Pantalaimon hadn’t nipped her hand sharply to remind her of the danger they were all in, she might have lost all her sense of proportion” (Compass 343). Though Pan bites her to keep her in check, this action does not denote the disapproval of either Pan or the author toward the act of lying itself. Rather, it serves to remind Lyra of the reasons she lies in the first place: not to gain power, but to protect Iorek and herself from certain death. Therefore, Pan’s nip does not express his disagreement with Lyra’s deceit, but instead keeps her from lapsing into the same reason for lying that motivated Mrs. Coulter. Once again, one can note the distinction between good and evil deceit residing not in method, but in motivation. This is also supported by the praise and awe Lyra receives from Iorek when he discovers her accomplishment in deceiving Iofur: “Belaqua? No. You are Lyra Silvertongue” (348). The reader wavers between being wary of Lyra’s deceit on account of the lack of reticence concerning her actions and responding to her in the same manner as Iorek, once again creating a confusing moral contradiction. In Svalbard, like Bolvangar, the author presents the morality of lying as being determined by motivation while keeping deceit itself as an amoral act, capable of being used for good or evil.
This rather confusing and occasionally disconcerting use of deceit by Pullman’s characters succeeds in demonstrating his presentation of an alternative atheistic and humanistic perspective on the morality of lying. Though obvious lines exist between the lies of Lyra and Mrs. Coulter, the author does not support the traditional view of deceit held by most major religions, making it “easy to interpret this celebration of deception as a direct challenge to traditional morality and ethics” (Bruner 115). It is true that lying in His Dark Materials incurs no guilt and has no consequences, and yet the author cannot be accused of the complete destruction of morality, as “good” and “evil” still exist in the books. One critic explains, “as an intensely moral writer, Pullman seems naturally drawn towards Biblical imagery of good and evil…yet as a humanist and a freethinker, he hates the guilt and repression that, in his view, also lie at the basis of Christianity” (Tucker 174). By presenting this humanist plurality, Pullman argues against the church’s labeling of lying as sin while still supporting the goodness of integrity of motivations, or the integrity of goals that focus on encouraging freedom. According to Pullman critics Donna Freitas and Jason King, the highest good of Pullman’s worldview is freedom, one expression of which is lying, and should be used “for the service of others” and “to love others” (56). Evil, instead of being identified as deceit itself, becomes “the suppression of freedom, the deprivation of the body, the failure to be kind” (Freitas 69). By creating a protagonist, Lyra, who uses lying for the purpose of preserving freedom and contrasting her motivations with that of an antagonist, Mrs. Coulter, who uses deceit to gain power, Pullman effectively demonstrates this new perspective. He argues that lying should not be considered inherently wrong but rather an expression of freedom, though he still retains the belief that actions such as lying can be immoral or moral, determined by the motivations behind the deceit and not the deceit itself.
A second clue to understanding Pullman’s new perspective on the morality of deceit can be noted in Lyra’s rather ironic recognition of and aversion to other liars. The most vivid example of this contradiction is Lyra’s perception of Lord Boreal, or Sir Charles as he introduces himself in Will’s world. Though too naïve to recognize his intentions upon beginning an acquaintance with her, Lyra still finds herself discerning something about the older man that she cannot explain: “She was more puzzled by this man than by anyone she’d met for a long time…from somewhere she sensed, not a smell, but the idea of a smell, and it was the smell of dung, of putrefaction. She was reminded of Iofur Raknison’s palace, where the air was perfumed but the floor was thick with filth” (Knife 79). The smell she describes brings to mind the scene at Svalbard in The Golden Compass. Iofur builds a palace, but because bears are not meant to live in houses, the place smells of the excrement of the bears unsuccessfully covered by the smell of perfume (Compass 326). If only Lyra understood what she perceived, she could have anticipated the stealing of her alethiometer by Sir Charles; she senses in him the lie of the bears, the attempt at covering bad with good. As a practiced liar, it is no surprise that Lyra can recognize other liars, even subconsciously. Less logical, however, is her reaction to the lies of Sir Charles. Considering the tone of the author in describing the lies of Lyra, one would expect that Sir Charles, though evil, would still be represented with some level of respect equal to his talent for deceit. Instead, when she does discover his use of deception to cover his evil intentions for power, Lyra’s only response is to spit in his face (Knife 163). Against basic moral logic, Lyra the liar reacts to the revelation of his lies with outrage.
Sir Charles is not the only character whose deceit Lyra perceives and to which she responds in anger. Her reaction to the lies of Mrs. Coulter at Bolvangar expresses similar feelings toward such deceit: “Oh the wicked liar, oh the shameless untruths she was telling! And even if Lyra hadn’t known them to be lies…she would have hated it with a furious passion” (Compass 284). Interestingly, Lyra’s outrage is first aimed at the fact that Mrs. Coulter is lying at all, then toward what she is lying to cover up. This reveals that Lyra does not only find fault with the evil behind the lies but also with being deceived at all, another morally confusing response from one who is herself a habitual liar. Though she views the lies of her mother with disgust, Lyra, and through her the author, never makes the connection between her lies and those of Mrs. Coulter. Despite what seems morally probable, we again see the liar, herself being the deceived, responding with righteous anger to the lies of someone else.
Once again, the author is presenting his contradictory humanist morality by maintaining a support of truth while dismantling the lines of traditional morality. Through Lyra’s outrage toward and distance from the lies of Sir Charles and Mrs. Coulter, Pullman creates distinctions between “right” and “wrong” deceit. The first distinctions between their lies mirror those presented when Lyra’s motivations for lying were contrasted with those of the antagonists. Like those situations in which Lyra chooses to lie, the situations in which Lyra becomes the victim of deceit also show that the reasons matter. As demonstrated previously, Lyra lies to survive, while those who lie to her do so in order to control her and use her for their evil plans, attempting manipulation to which she reacts in anger. In addition to purpose, however, the author also highlights the importance of the character of the person behind the lies. Lyra acts out of a care for others and a desire to do what is right and good. In other words, she acts out of a character of moral integrity. Those who lie to her, on the other hand, lie out of a hunger for power and a lack of compassion for anything besides their own interests. They lie out of character of moral corruption. In this way, Pullman effectively asserts that a good lie is one that does not hide an evil person. Lyra does not lie to cover an evil heart; she simply changes the facts of the stories she tells to divert the attention of those wishing her harm. The evil liar, on the other hand, uses “ostensibly truthful words as masks to divert attention from and justify the evil that they do” (Freitas 63). Sir Charles and Mrs. Coulter find condemnation, not in their lying, but in their use of lies to cover over the evil foundations of their lives, hiding the truth of their corrupted persons from Lyra. While still adamantly denying the sinfulness of deceit in and of itself, Pullman continues to champion the value of integrity, particularly of moral character, in the outrage of Lyra towards those who lie to hide the darkness in their hearts.
This directs the reader to the third point of major evidence to be interpreted for an understanding of Pullman’s morality of deceit. Just as Lyra’s “righteousness” in lying can be determined through an evaluation of her motivations and her distancing of her own deceit from that of the antagonists, it can also be seen in her defense when charged with being deceitful of character. Though she uses her talent for lying without hesitation and with “pleasure rising upward in her breast like the bubbles in champagne” (Spyglass 261), Lyra still becomes defensive when labeled as deceitful by the gyptians, actually a misunderstood compliment (Compass 112), and by Sir Charles (Knife 163). The best example of her defense of her character, however, comes in her arguments with the Gallivespian spies who follow her and Will into the land of the dead. Trying to convince Lyra of her misjudgment in deciding to find the ghost of her friend Roger, Tialys’ criticism is scathing: “You’re a thoughtless, irresponsible, lying child. Fantasy comes so easily to you that your whole nature is riddled with dishonesty, and you don’t even admit the truth when it stares you in the face” (Spyglass 265). Lyra responds by claiming he has misjudged her and argues against his own integrity:
“You don’t know,” she cried, “you just don’t know what I got in my head or my heart, do you?...you’re not kind, you’re not generous, you’re not considerate—you’re not cruel, even—that would be better, if you were cruel, because it’d mean you took us serious, you didn’t just go along with us when it suited you…Oh, I can’t trust you at all now! You said you’d help and we’d do it together, and now you want to stop us—you’re the dishonest one, Tialys!” (265)
Two interesting points present themselves in the course of this speech. First of all, in claiming that Tialys has wrongly judged her to be deceitful to the core just because she lies, Lyra asserts that her actions do not inevitably constitute the foundation of her character. He has only looked as what she does, not at why she lies or the character from which she lies. In this way, the author through Lyra, argues that one must look deeper than the action itself to the heart behind the action in order to judge whether a person is good or bad, their actions right or wrong.
This assertion connects to a second point of interest: Lyra uses Tialys’ own accusations to bring accusations against him. Lyra has not gone against her word or any part of her character when she lies; rather, she acts out of her character very truthfully in talent and motivation, using lies to further goals that are chosen from the heart. Tialys, on the other hand, lied against his true intentions when he told Lyra earlier that he would support her endeavor to travel to the land of the dead. He only agreed to follow her in the first place because he assumed she would fail, not because he also held to the goal that she had chosen. If he had had integrity of character, he would have taken his earlier support of Lyra as an oath and followed through with that goal, pursuing whatever means possible to see it accomplished. Lyra says it would be better if he were cruel, which, like his earlier support, would show he at least still cared about her endeavor. As demonstrated, Lyra’s accusations against Tialys emphasize the importance of integrity of character over a focus on the morality of certain types of actions.
In Lyra’s argument with Tialys, the author illustrates the major arguments between the traditional morality of religion and his own humanist moral system. The arguments of Lyra, the speaker for humanist morality, stand upon the two earlier observations concerning her lying: she lies for good reasons and out of a good heart. Tialys, representing traditional religious views of lying, makes the mistake of ignoring these two sources of action and chooses instead to only concentrate on the actions themselves, categorically judging the book by its cover. In the first part of her speech, Lyra argues that Tialys has judged her wrongly because he has not looked at her heart, asserting traditional morality to be a faulty judge when it comes to recognizing good and bad. For her second point, she uses the shifted morality of the author to judge Tialys, revealing that he himself comes up short when deep, not just superficial, honesty becomes the focus of consideration. In the perspectives of these characters, Pullman supports his own belief in the goodness of lying on the basis of motivation and character, lying itself being amoral. He not only argues motivation and character to be more important than the actions through which one expresses themselves, but also that motivation and character are the points from which one should assess the foundation of a person’s true honesty. Lying does not necessarily reveal a deceitful heart, though it can be used to conceal one, and therefore cannot be trusted as a guide for judging integrity of character.
The final and most contradictory event in the story of Lyra’s deceitfulness occurs when she must become a teller of true stories instead of a liar, revealing most clearly the contradictory foundations of Pullman’s morality of deceit. While the other contradictions of the author reveal themselves through several events, this greatest contradiction becomes unveiled through one event that significantly changes Lyra’s perspective: her encounter with the harpies. When the harpies agree to listen to a story in exchange for entrance into the land of the dead, Lyra feels as if she has “been dealt the ace of trumps” (Spyglass 292). The harpies, however, instead of being fooled, are enraged by the lies she tells and attack her. In their reaction, screaming “liar!” all around her, Lyra faces the truth of her own identity: “it sounded as if her [the harpy’s] voice were coming from everywhere, and the word echoed back from the great wall in the fog, muffled and changed, so that she seemed to be screaming Lyra’s name, so that Lyra and liar were one and the same thing” (293). For the first time, figures in the story are not fooled by Lyra’s lies, even though the lies are being told for the good purpose of releasing the dead. Interestingly, the harpies react to the lies of Lyra in the same way that she reacted to the lies of Sir Charles and Mrs. Coulter: with “rage and hatred” (293). Stripped of her strongest talent, Lyra expresses her “wild despair” to Will: “’I can’t tell lies!...it’s all I can do, and it doesn’t work!’” (294). At this point, Lyra faces a redefinition of her character. She can no longer rely on her identity as a liar; she must find a way to tell the truth though she is “sick with apprehension” (313). Eventually, she musters the strength and tells her true story to the ghosts and the harpies, leading to the institution of the truth-telling of the dead in order to have the harpies guide them out safely (314-318).
This event in the land of the dead not only sets up a contradictory combination of traditional and humanistic moralities, but also seemingly contradicts many of the assertions made by the author previously concerning the morality of deceit. Though previously the lies of Lyra were justified by the reasons behind her deceit, her good reasons do not justify her cause to the harpies. In the same way, the harpies react to Lyra like she reacted to the lies of antagonists earlier in the story, demonstrating that the character of the person telling the lies also has no pertinence in this situation. Why does the author seem to change his mind suddenly about the amoral nature of lying? He does not change his mind entirely, but neither is his perspective perfectly defined. For one, Pullman does not state that the change toward truthfulness in Lyra is a permanent one. Though she does not lie in the rest of the story that he tells, she is also never faced with another situation in which it is necessary for her to do so. When she returns to Jordan College and must tell her story to the Master, she asserts the truthfulness of her tale not out of a claim to have changed from a liar to an honest person, but in order that those listening might believe what she says (512). Therefore, though it is obvious that she matures in some way, the reader receives no assurance that Lyra will not lie again in the future. Also, Pullman does not directly assert that lying has become wrong now that Lyra has changed. Though Lyra must tell the truth in the situation with the harpies, the harpies do not find reason for their demand for truth in its moral correctness. The harpies make no statement about why they even require the truth or how they can recognize lies; they simply demand the truth with no explanation. There exists no explanation for why Lyra must now tell the truth and no longer define herself as a liar and no assertion that she gets rid of the habit forever.
In this way, Pullman reveals the truly contradictory nature of his morality of deceit. He makes it necessary for Lyra to be able to tell the truth, though he does not assert the moral depravity of her former habit of lying. He champions the goodness of true stories in the new institution of required stories in the land of the dead, but he does not assert that false stories are morally wrong. In the end, Lyra’s encounter with the harpies represents the clearest picture of the confused morality of the author. Truth is good, but lying is not bad. Truth must be told, but lying does not have to disappear. Pullman, in trying to create a new morality of deceit, has formed a confusing and contradictory combination of traditional and anti-traditional thought that results in a support of integrity while still retaining a vague support of the amorality of deceit.
Through Lyra’s purposes in lying, her reaction to the lies of others, her assertion of a character of integrity, and her telling of the truth in the land of the dead, the author of His Dark Materials reveals the mix of ironies and shifts in thought that characterize his morality of deceit, as well as his worldview on a whole. Integrity is still defended, though it is redefined. Deceit is not wrong, but being deceitful of character is a condemnable state. Religion should not restrict freedom expressed through lying, but any use of lying that restricts freedom deserves to be eliminated. Pullman demonstrates a dislike of traditional views of lying as sin, but he still seems to support the rightness of the integrity that forms the foundation of the doctrines to which he is most vehemently opposed. Biblical scholar Rodney J. Decker explains his own conclusions concerning the morality of Pullman’s work in this way: “Rather than saying that the trilogy advocates and glorifies lying, the overall picture makes best sense as demonstrating truth as a positive value” (18). But one must also ask Decker’s following questions: “Yet, why is there ‘value in truth’ in Pullman’s worldview? What basis for truth or any other value is possible apart from an absolute?” (18). These questions cannot be answered by the texts of the stories, the answers being hidden in Pullman’s soul. Like his readers, he is wrestling with the “larger questions of moral conduct” that face a world without a God to whom they can look for direction (Chrisafis). In Pullman, one can find an example of a person who has tried to run from what he thinks causes the problems of the world, only to find that the thing he runs from is that which he is defending. Pullman and Pullman’s readers find that his morality of deceit is not as new as he or they first supposed it to be. Instead, His Dark Materials become a lasting testament to the fact that truth, real truth, inevitably shines through.
Works Cited
Bruner, Kurt, and Jim Ware. Shedding Light on His Dark Materials: Exploring Hidden Spiritual
Themes in Philip Pullman’s Popular Series. Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2007.
Chrisafis, Angelique. "Pullman lays down moral challenge for writers." The Guardian 12 Aug.
2002. 23 Apr. 2009 http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2002/aug/12/books.humanities
Decker, Rodney J. “Reflection on the Fantasy Trilogy His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman
Better Known From the Film Title, The Golden Compass.” Baptist Bible Seminary, February 4, 2008. Web access 23 Apr. 2009. http://ntresources.com/documents/GoldenCompassFF3.pdf
Freitas, Donna, and Jason King. Killing the Imposter God: Philip Pullman’s Spiritual
Imagination in His Dark Materials. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2007.
Pullman, Philip. The Golden Compass. New York: Alfred A. Knoff, 1995.
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---. The Amber Spyglass. New York: Alfred A. Knoff, 2000.
Tucker, Nicholas. Darkness Visible: Inside the World of Philip Pullman. Cambridge, England:
Wizard Books, 2003.
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