Witchfinder General

I grew up in a place called Hadleigh. During my childhood, this particular bit of Estuary Essex was still undergoing the deep shock of having gone from a large village to small town in less than two decades. Ancient woodland still bristled with resentment of its reduced circumstances due to the encroachment of new housing. The 13th century walls of the local castle, already ruined and robbed of dignity by landslides and the Salvation Army stone thieves, faced the final insult of becoming a delight for clambering children.

Surviving the savage assault of supermarkets and seventies concrete, the spirits of Hadleigh still skulked in its shadows. For more than 500 years, the place had been known for producing witches and cunning men, crow doctors and wind stealers. As a boy I walked through a landscape where folklore stalked you. There were magicians buried in the boneyard of St. James the Less, old cottages with moon gardens and at least one tree-lined shortcut with rumours of a whispering black shade.

One thing I learned from voracious childhood reading at the local library was that the people of Hadleigh liked their witches. In 1646, Matthew Hopkins, the self-styled Witchfinder General, turned up to ply his vile trade of persecution for profit. Having tortured his way across most of the east of England, he must have thought he would get rich pickings in Hadleigh, rumoured to be the home to several witch families.

However, as he approached the village he was met with a large crowd. Having heard of his planned hunt for their cunning folk, the village turned out en masse. When he refused to leave them in peace, the villagers began to stone Hopkins and his entourage of witch-prickers.

This little bit of knowledge taught me a lot as child. The idea that confronting fear mongers and bullies was always possible resonated across the years. It was a perfect lesson on the effectiveness of both direct and group action; inspiring me to believe that the average person could be more brave and tolerant than usually portrayed. Beyond that, I became proud of Hadleigh. Here was a place that at least once in its history showed the answer to exploitative hatred is an absolute refusal to tolerate it.

I have been thinking a lot about witchfinders recently due to Sarah Palin. Having seen the video of her speech thanking Thomas Muthee, a Kenyan preacher and witchfinder associated with her church, my dislike of the woman has soared to a new level. In June she praised his ‘Very very powerful invocation’ which she claimed helped get her elected. Beyond finding this an ironic choice of words given she was talking about a smiter of witchcraft, the revelation strips much of the humour from the satirists portraying her as ‘witch-burner’.

Justin Webb, the BBC’s North America editor who writes a rather fine blog, usually gets it right. However, when he complained that ‘anti-Palin stuff in comments on recent postings has gone way over the top’ because they suggested she was supporter of a ‘dark witch-burning retreat into superstition and irrationality’ he missed the point. If she was a member of an Aryan church that advocated persecuting Jews, there would be no tolerance, no language too strong. We should never accept persecution of any faith. We should decry anyone standing for office who is a friend of those who perpetrate such villainy. Anyone who backs those advocating a gospel of hunting for witches deserves to be met Hadleigh style.