The Owl House Subverted A Generation of Anti-Fascist Media
Deaf-Machbot
Dana Terrace's show, The Owl House, ended on April 8, 2023. It was about a nerdy woman named Luz Noceda who was transported to a magical land called the Boiling Isles. There she learned magic, gathered friends and allies, and faced off against a dictator named Emperor Belos, who wanted everyone to conform to his rule.
There has been a lot of ink spilled, and words typed about how Disney, the network that produced The Owl House, unfairly ended it because of how one executive was uncomfortable with the vibe of this openly queer show (see my article Does Disney Care About Diversity?). We will probably never know the real reason, but I encourage you to read Dana Terrace's own words on the cancellation.
Instead, I want to talk about this shows perspectives on authoritarianism and fascism. Unlike many kids' shows out there, The Owl House gets a lot more confrontational and hands-on with the types of actions it thinks are appropriate for fighting fascists, bucking over a decade of popular media in the process.
A Primer on Cartoon Fascism
Right away, it should be noted that authoritarianism (i.e., a submission to authority and a centralization power) and fascism (i.e., a combination of authoritarianism and a centralized mythos about how the world should be) are very common in children's cartoons. Everything from Steven Universe to Avatar: The Last Airbender to Amphibia has our protagonists facing off against evil authoritarians who control entire countries, planets, or galaxies.
This trope is partly because, strangely enough, fascism can map metaphorically onto traditional family structures. Parents are essentially authoritarians with a direct say over their kids' lives, albeit for a better set of reasons (usually). It's easy to see children imagining themselves rebelling against a strict authority as a substitute for the lack of control in their own lives. All the examples we listed above have plots where characters are interacting with a family member(s) who is a fascist (i.e., Prince Zuko and the Firelord, Steven and the Diamonds, etc.). While these texts directly talk about fascism, they are perhaps even more centrally speaking about family.
This perspective is one of the reasons why many of these shows conclude with relatively peaceful resolutions to their conflicts. Zuko can tell off his father, the Firelord, because Aang removes the Firelord's bending through mystical turtle magic. Steven effectively collapses the Great Diamond Authority by making White Diamon laugh. Anne Boonchuy from Amphibia stops an interdimensional, fascist empire from winning the day by revealing to its monarch some last-minute information (that and also God magic). You can resolve most problems with family members, even abusive ones, through either dialogue or distance (i.e., cutting abusive people out of your life). And so, it makes sense these shows would deliver a similar message.
And yet, and I feel I must stress this, the solution to fascism (and yes, the Diamond Authority, the Fire Nation, and the Amphibian Monarchy are fascist; please look up the actual definition) has never been kindness and distance. Historically it has been violence. Deradicalization may work on an individual level, and even then on a case-by-case basis, but it has and cannot be the primary strategy for dismantling fascist regimes. We didn't defeat the Third Reich by being very nice to Adolf Hitler, and we aren't going to defeat the regimes of today and tomorrow with kindness, either.
Most kids' shows that draw upon authoritarian and fascist villains completely fall apart the moment you stop looking at them through the lens of family. And this is because, in a nutshell, asking victims to engage in an open dialogue with their oppressors is a framework that values the feelings of the oppressor over the harm that oppressor has done and continues to do. We do not have Gods or magical turtles to help us. To save more lives, you often have to prioritize getting dictators out of power through violence (and maybe even death) over changing their minds.
And so, what does this all have to do with The Owl House? Well, its conclusion sets up and completely subverts this trope for the better.
The breaking of a fascist
There is much debate on the exact definition and criteria for fascism. Umberto Eco lists fourteen criteria in their essay Ur Fascism, including hero worship and doublespeak. Scholar Roger Griffin described fascism in two words: palingenetic ultranationalism, or a revolution attempting to reform a nation around a core myth. Regardless of the ideology used to maintain it, its generally regarded as a concentration of government power, a transition into a dictatorship, and a nationalistic mythology that allows dictators to achieve these ends.
We see all these elements in the show The Owl House. Again, the main antagonist is a dictator (i.e., a leader who holds power with very few limitations). Emperor Belos has set up a government that places him at the top of the hierarchy. His rule over the witches beneath him appears to be absolute, with no significant oversight.
He gained power by relying on a foundational lie, claiming to speak on behalf of the Titan, the mythical creature they all live on top of who granted the Isles its magic. Belos uses that myth to try to force every witch into a strict coven system under the promise that this will make everything better. He rises to power by literally promising them national rebirth. Note: there is more to his machinations, including a twist that he is a witch hunter from the 1600s seeking to genocide all witches, but that doesn't change the central premise of him using fascism to gain power.
What's refreshing is how The Owl House depicts our main characters fighting this fascism. The show set up a family dynamic that could have led us to a similar ending as all the other shows we mentioned. The side character Hunter, it's revealed, is a clone made to appear like Belos's deceased brother. We could imagine a twist that rationalizes Belos's genocidal ambitions as an extension of the grief he feels for his dead brother. Hunter would then deradicalize him through a heart-to-heart.
Likewise, Luz muses throughout the last season about whether wanting to kill Belos makes her no worse than him. We again could have seen the heart-to-heart happen through her, where she convinces Belos that modern society now abhors the Witch Trials, and he questions his current path — it's certainly an approach we have seen followed in a previous generation of kids' shows.
Instead, the show refutes this perspective at every turn. While these arguments are made, they do not convince Belos, and he begins his genocide of the Boiling Isles in earnest. There is even a heartbreaking scene where the Collector, a Godlike entity with the mental capacity of a young child, tries to stop the Emperor by saying he "just needs kindness and forgiveness," only for Belos to try to kill him.
Belos is eventually defeated through violence via a fantastic anime-esque fight scene, but what's telling is how the show treats him post-defeat. A magical McGuffin could have allowed Luz to seal him away, remove his powers, or change his mind, but instead, she watches passively as the boiling rain from which the Isles derive their namesake begins to melt him away. He lies to her, saying he is now freed from a curse, and that she should help him. When that fails to garner sympathy, he resorts to false equivalency. "You'll be just as bad, just as conniving, just as evil," he calls out, but the narrative does not accept this framing. Two other characters emerge onto the scene and curb-stomp him to death in an almost comical scene.
It cannot be overemphasized how much of a radical departure this is from all the other narratives we have mentioned in American children's television. There is no massaging away here of how all of us can resolve our differences. We are left with only a cold realization that some awful people, once all other avenues have been exhausted, must be dealt with through violence.
"This is a little more complicated," Luz tells the Collector after he tries to solve the problem of the big bad with kindness. That it is.
A magical conclusion
The closing credits are the most rewarding facet of the show. The Boiling Isles begins the work of not only rebuilding after Belos's genocidal rampage but demilitarizing: Belos's police force is disbanded, the coven system is abolished, and Wild Magic becomes an accepted form of study.
It's difficult to know how this show would have progressed had The Owl House not been prematurely canceled for "not fitting the Disney brand." When shows realize they are headed to the finish line, they sometimes shoot for the moon and add all the elements they wish to do so initially without fear of greater studio oversight. It's not lost on me that Belos's death may have been handled with a lighter touch if given a more proper runway.
We will never know, but speculations aside, I am thankful for how this show ended. In a sea of fascism being a substitute for familial dynamics, it was refreshing for The Owl House to treat this philosophy seriously with the “respect” its adherents deserve.