Harry Potter - Education, Population, and Socioeconomics

As quaint as they find Muggle society, Witches and Wizards in Harry Potter seem to have a very peculiar culture of their own. After watching the films and some exhaustive online research, I find myself asking a few fundamental questions. Generally, my roommate has silenced these queries with "Oh my god shut up its just a movie you're ruining it for me," but she's not here right now, so ha!

Religion:

Christmas is still celebrated, granted in its most secular aspects but still the modern form, yet what are miracles in a world of magic? Excepting resurrection, which is achieved only through the legendary resurrection stone or the blackest magic of horcruxes, every miracle traditionally attributed to Christ is taught to the average third-year. Water to wine, levitation, aparating food. These are straight-forward. (Apparently food cannot be created, only moved. This is one of magic's few fundamental restrictions, so maybe Jesus was simply an epic chef?)

There is an afterlife. Whether you've personally seen it and talked to your dead relatives and headmaster aside, ghosts are a common sight during lunch period. This … has got to put a damper on the bible and organized religion in general. If nothing else, it should codify it somehow. In the wizarding world, has the public knowledge of existence after this mortal realm simply anesthetized the more fanciful aspects of religious fervor from our hearts? Are there no Jews, no Muslims, Buddhists, or Sumerian worshipers? Since Hogwarts was founded half a millennium before the breakaway of the Anglican church, I'm going to assume they were originally Catholic at best, if not outright Pagan and animists. Perhaps they simply adopted the trappings of Christmas out of English cultural camouflage.



Culture:

Which brings us to Wizard-Muggle interaction.

Apparently, the upper echelons of the Muggle world are aware of and work with the wizarding community, but it should be universally recognized that with their own history, technologies, cultures, government, and penal systems, the magical world remains completely autonomous from its mundane counterpart.

According to my roommate, a subplot from the books which never made it to screen involved Mr. Weasely's hobbyist fascination with Mundy technology, outfitting a car with levitating ability and accruing a collection of batteries. According to her, magic and muggle devices do not play well together. Sure. Fine. Don't cross the streams. I got you.

However at what point did wizard give up on technology and become complacent? Steam engines and rail cars certainly caught on for long-distance mass transport, but fireplaces, toilets, brooms, and just general aparating seem the de facto methods of transport for small groups. Streetlights are usable, but not common to the magical realms. It would not be unreasonable to say a eternally burning candle is more efficient, but this raises so many conservation of energy questions I'd like to set it aside for a moment.

At what point did wizards stop developing better equipment for daily life? The only innovations seem to be in the scope of brooms, candies and jokes, and odd personal tinkering. Culture itself seems to have stalled out some time in the early 20th century, fashion-wise, and earlier still in regards to non-magical items of utility. Perhaps we're only missing a larger picture, missing the long and varied history of magical computational tools and dictating devices. The movies do take place from 1990-1997, mind you. It's unreasonable to assume Hermione would have brought a MacBook along with her cat.

Perhaps the complete lack of awareness to modern Muggle technology and society is indicative of how we ourselves remain predominantly unaware of customs and standards in even nearby foreign nations. Is it better, then, to consider Wizarding Britain a country unto itself, occupying overlapping though quietly ceded territory with the U.K. proper?



Money, Economics, and Government:

All these items come together in a disastrous head: How the hell do Hogwarts and the wizarding community even function?

Hogwarts as a school was founded in the year 990, by the four most prominent and talented magicians of their era, somewhere in Scotland. This predates England as a unified kingdom in any semblance, and thus establishes it as a separate, non-governmental entity.

Jumping to modern usage, Hogwarts prepares all students for their O.W.L. examinations, a government-approved standardized test for budding wizards roughly akin to a combination of the SATs and a drivers test. The Ministry of Magic maintains a close relationship with the school, but it is officially a private institution.

Since only the philosopher's stone–at very, very great cost mind you–can actually create gold, actual work must go into creating the wealth by which Hogwarts is kept functioning. Wizarding families have varying economic classes, and Harry Potter himself is of no small fortune, a capitalist economy, albeit mitigated by the ability to essentially create most objects given the right materials, talent, and time–so, life–is evident. Three types of currency are also noted, exemplifying this system: 29 bronze Knuts to a silver Sickle, 17 Sickles to a gold galleon. (It's like the Imperial system on crack.) So who pays students' tuition?

It should be recognized that Hogwarts admits students very oddly. They are granted placement, and though expected to procure their own supplies, tuition, room and board, even transportation costs seem to be gifted by scholarship. It is a huge honor to be accepted to Hogwarts.

And yet every Weasley for three generations, ass-poor, has been admitted, up to four at a time. That's not fiscal prudence, that's legacy. A possible theory is that, due to its prolific nature, Hogwarts has, over a full millennium of scholarship, amassed an insane fortune from endowments, invested it wisely, and uses the proceeds to pay the way for every student who walks through its doors, likely with a not small government subsidy for adhering to O.W.L. guidelines (which they likely developed, mind you).

While other countries' schools are mentioned (never in the New World, mind you; it's quite curious American wizards never had anything to say or intervene about with the whole 'dark lord starting an ethnic cleansing' thing), Hogwarts appears to be the only Magical school in the whole of the UK. Unless they're homeschooled, every British child of hocus-pocus blood goes through those doors. These numbers cannot possibly add up, at least at face value. We know there are at least several thousand adult magic users in London's magical shopping districts alone. We've seen international Quidditch matches attended by the tens of thousands, with thirteen professional teams in England and seven different newspapers reporting on their seasons.

Or, just maybe, there is simply a wizarding version of public school, and once again we have simply viewed the lives of incredibly lucky or incredibly wealthy, predominantly white kids in high school, with a dash of alluding to racism and a whole lot of elitist class bullshit just like every other British story of the last 60 years.



But perhaps not.


Population:

How many students are there, really? J.K. Rowling initially claimed there to be about a thousand students at Hogwarts, though later revised this to about 600 as she had only written around 40 characters in Harry's year. The internet seems to have settled on three-hundred. My roommate, though I can find no mention of this number, insists there are 50 students admitted to each house, each year. That's 200 students per grade, with 7 years of schooling between them. Rounding up for error–assuming fifty is an approximate average, that's at most only 1500 undergrads at any given moment. Roughly a small community college. So somewhere between 300 and 1500 is our answer.

According to Ask.com, in 2012 there were 10,466,700 schoolchildren in the whole of the UK, roughly 18.7% its total population. The population in 1998 was roughly 50 million in total, so assuming relatively stable matriculating rates over the last 16 years, that would provide Harry Potter's United Kingdom just about 9.35 million children on the high end. Comparing these two figures, we arrive at a Wizarding student, and therefore total population that is approximately 1.6% of the total British commonwealth (about 800,000 in 1998 and just about 900,000 today). On the low end, that leaves us only 1600 wizards in 1998. Spread out over the whole of the United Kingdom, this number is, at face value, insubstantial to maintain the communities seen, so the larger of the two is more likely.

That said, Hogsmeade, the closest town to Hogwarts for many miles, is the only all-wizard village in all of Scotland. What we see in London is Diagon Alley, a single street crammed full of every magical shop imaginable, and the only openly magical thoroughfare in London. While there may only be upwards of 40 or 50 shops, since we know magicians can play with spatial relations, both of people and objects, it is entirely possible that this community is displaced from the natural world to some degree, squished into less volume than it appears, or that the entryway to the Alley is in fact merely a gateway through which one is 'adjusted' to a new, more fitting, width.



The short of it is, there is a sizeable Wizard community in England–albeit a sliver minority in the total human population–and the vast majority of these magic users must go without formal education. They must take vocational training, go into family businesses, or otherwise become menial laborers. There seem to be no repercussions for dropping out after passing the O.W.L.s, as two of the Weasley clan did, though doing so before passing the follow-up N.E.W.T.s would prevent a student from landing government  and private sector jobs in certain fields.

The 10-12% | Jedi, Economics, and the Hyperelite

One of my prized possessions.

Star Wars is one of those things nerds could–and do–argue about for hours. I'd be chief among them. You want to have one? Please do. I relish the opportunity, because instead of emotionally maturing as a child, I learned about Star Wars.

Part of the problem is that Star Wars became too big to be coherent decades ago. The expanded universe was fun, but with the release of prequels and now the promise of non-George-helmed sequels, there's new canonical information that has to be wedged into old B-grade canon, much of which was frankly better and more sensical than the new information.

Certain things get dropped by the wayside, however, and always have. Example: beings tend to need to buy things with money.

Star Trek has always maintained that its Federation is a post-scarcity society. Cheap energy is made freely available all as a common good, and combined with replicator technology, functionally all necessities and luxury items can be created by anyone with enough time and effort. Careers exist more for the betterment of citizens and at their own discretion than on any real need for goods. Functionally, it is a socialist paradise. Only backward, tangential worlds and the Ferengi maintain capitalist ideals.

Star Wars takes place in a galactic-scale capitalist culture. Banks have their own clans, Trade Federations start civil wars or tarif rates and embargo disputes. The capital of all known systems caters to the support of an upper-echelon elite, high above the lower strata of Coruscant. In the Outer Rim, slavery is a common and accepted practice, especially on worlds controlled by the Hutts, an entire species primarily devoted to being crime lords.

Perhaps this has something to do with the level of technology achieved in each universe. Star Trek has faster-than-light travel, dematerializing transporters, and the ability to replicate anything from basic elemental building blocks, themselves saved as pure energy as if via transporter. Star Wars, meanwhile achieves FTL transport, but transporters are relatively unknown and widely considered impossible, although short-range models have been demonstrated effective. Largely, however, means of production and distribution of goods remain in line with what we possess currently. Goods are produced either by hand or machine (sometimes both!) and curried from A to B by ship to be sold in stores for currency. Want a nice nerf steak and a cup of caf for a meal? Go to the ship's galley and heat up a couple. Principles of technology may be more advanced, but the long-and-short of it is Aunt Beru had to go to market to buy her blue milk that came from a dairy farmer.

Herein lies a problem for the narrative. In Star Wars we rarely get to see what the average being is doing in the galaxy. Dictation and data pads are mentioned somewhat frequently, credits as a form of currency as well, and "(re)freshers" exist so that gentlefolks can scrawl out an invoice or missive, buy a BlasTech DL-44 pistol, or take a sanisteam after a long hyperspace jaunt.

Except that's boring, and as an audience, we tend to follow the action. If protagonists ever involve themselves in a financial transaction, it's either illicit, or cover while surveilling. Consider primary characters:

• Jedi
• The Republic/Rebel Alliance/New Republic/Galactic Alliance/Galactic Federation of Free Planets and associated militias
• The Empire
• Smugglers

These are not the types to necessarily lament a lack of access to funds. Han Solo and his bands of rogues? They steal what they need, blast through security, and make a delivery to earn their payday. They've all won and lost fortunes a dozen times over–Lando Calrissian is famous for it. If a job didn't go bad, we wouldn't read about it. Federal governments don't exactly request expenditure reports during a war either. While the Rebels acquired their superior X-Wing fighters specifically through capture of the plans and defection of the creators, the Empire has entire worlds' resources at its disposal. It is an evil, tyrannical dictatorship, after all.

At the top of society, the Skywalker-Solo clan own multiple apartments, furnished many times over with expensive accoutrements and the highest, often illegal security measures. They are heroes upon heroes. Leia was Galactic President, for god's sake. Twice. The sheer volumes of riches lavished upon them necessitated teams of specialized accountants just to manage. The result is that none of these characters ever need to worry about money for the rest of their lives, and being appropriately paranoid for the eight most important beings in the galaxy, they have access to secret assets.

There is never any mention of these elites ever receiving spam mail.

Even the Jedi are above the need for funding. Between all the money funneled into the organization through Luke and his friends, government subsidies and "gifts" of tactical armaments during times of crisis, the Jedi are perhaps the most well-trained, well-funded, well-organized private army in existence, and yes I'm including the revived Mandalorian warriors. They maintain leagues of accountants whose sole purpose is to ensure that their investments allow them to function completely autonomously from any governmental oversight.They go to the laundry and are handed a new robe from the Coruscanti employed by the Jedi Temple. They travel to Ilum to pick their own crystals to construct their own lightsabers. If the cost of antimater and fusable material were not so expensive, one might almost consider this a green movement. Rather than living as ascetics, Jedi exist in a post-scarcity near-paradise simply because they have more money than some star systems.

As of 40 years post-Endor, there are approximately 400 known living Force users in the Jedi collective. Let us double that number to account for spouses and non-Force-wielding family members who enjoy the perks of residing within this hyper-elite group. Let us round off to an even thousand to compensate for the rotating cadre of bandits, allies, and planetary elites who operate within their bubbles of influence.

Of the 100 quadrillion sentient beings living in the Galaxy, that makes the Jedi and their surrounding parties civilization's top 0.000000000001%.

They are The 10^-12%.