No pain, no gain. Credit: Buda Mendes/Getty

Consider, for a moment, a world in which magic actually worked, where the things that we most deeply wish for in life could be achieved with a spell or a charm. Forget for a moment that such things don’t happen. Would there be anything problematic with such a world?
Two spring immediately to mind. First, and most obviously, we should fear the power that this sort of thing would place in human hands. We couldn’t be certain whether it would be used for good or ill – or rather, knowing what human beings are like, we would rightly fear its destructive potential.
But also, and less obviously, I think it would threaten to undermine the way in which human beings make sense of their lives and come to find meaning within it. If I can make myself immediately slimmer, say, with a quick bit of hocus pocus, then it would make no sense to think of my getting slimmer as the story of overcoming my inner demons, of struggle and achievement. There would be no inner drama in front of the fridge or the toaster. In such a world, diets would lead to two different types of weight loss: physical and existential, as in what Kundera calls “the unbearable lightness of being”. That is the deeper problem with magic. It robs life of its meaning, of its weight.
I was thinking of magic when I pondered my reaction to Tom Chivers’s piece for UnHerd about diet pills. He was writing about technology not magic, of course. His concern was to defend “fixes” to various social ills and specifically to defend technology against the charge of “solutionism” defined as the “foolhardy belief that technology can sidestep thorny social or political problems”.
Those, like me, who have a problem with “solutions”, think there is something wrong about – for example – a quick pharmacological fix to obesity. Pop a pill and you will be thin. That simple. What’s wrong with getting what you want like this, Chivers asks? Nothing at all, he concludes. But I don’t think he gave the solutionist argument a proper run for its money. So here goes.
The one area where there is widespread anxiety about the use of technological – especially pharmaceutical – fixes is within the field of elite sport. Here we call it doping. And why do we worry about doping? Because, ultimately, it drains sport of its meaning. If we allow any and every chemical fix to enter sport, then the difference between success and failure would be achieved in the lab and not on the pitch or piste. And that would rob sport of the very reason we find it compelling – that it is a battle of wills, of skill and of human courage. To replace all this with chemistry, where the winners are the ones with better lab teams, would fatally undermine the very existence of sport.
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