Richard Dawkins – he of the “probably no God” adverts on our bendy buses – has declared war on fairy tales, on the grounds that they are not true. Libby Purves discusses this in The Times:

“I don't know what to think about magic and fairy tales,” [Dawkins] says thoughtfully. “It is anti-scientific - whether that has a pernicious effect, I don't know... many of the stories I read in childhood allowed the possibility of frogs turning into princes. Whether that has a sort of insidious effect on rationality, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's something for research.”

Excellent. He wants children to “look at evidence”, but is willing to do the same himself, and accepts that reading about frog princes didn't ruin his career as a biologist by making him spend fruitless decades in the lab, pointing wands at frogs.

[…]

On the whole, serious students of child development conclude that far-fetched magical stories play an important part in the developing mental life of young children; and that normal children easily distinguish stories from reality. When, aged three, you talk to your teddybear, you do not really expect an answer. But it's still fun. When you tremble with fear at the wolf's approach, safe on your mother's lap, you are preparing yourself to face real fears and trials with calm. Healthy children enjoy sentences beginning “Let's pretend...”. Some of their pretences are bloodcurdling, but a normal child knows what's real. “Bang, you're dead,” said one of mine, adding “Not really dead, just bang dead.”

[…]

The reason I am delighted at Professor Dawkins' investigation, therefore, is that I am pretty sure his intelligence will bring him to the same conclusion as the psychologists: that a bit of magic and fantasy in childhood is useful and helps you to grapple with your fears about life, death, peril and chance. It may even (to be flippant for a moment) serve to keep future laymen's minds open to the more provable marvels of science. If you've played at invisible fairy-dust, you may have acquired the kind of counter-intuitive mental flexibility required to accept what goes on in the Large Hadron Collider.

The uses of enchantment and myth need to be reiterated and examined because there is a worrying modern tide of thought that says that children must be allowed only dull bald truth. One online essayist, typical of many, writes: “If I have children I shall spare them such nonsense. It's not just the happily ever after element that's damaging... we are civilised societies in a quest for advancements in science and technology. We need to eradicate superstitions. Children should learn that only through hard work, perseverance and patience do their dreams come true - not magic.”

I wouldn't hire her as a babysitter. Not if she can't understand that luck and chance exist as much as just deserts, and that the courage of the seventh son or the gentle powerlessness of Cinderella might inspire a child to effort and kindness rather more effectively than her dreary sermonising.

Others excoriate poor old Santa - ultimate symbol of a jokily benign universe - and worry that Harry Potter makes children believe in spells and hexes. Very patronising, that: especially when the same adults flock to films about James Bond, who never existed and whose faux-tech gadgets wouldn't work any better than a wand and broomstick. They probably also enjoy a rush of irrational pleasure when watching a really good close-up conjurer “doing” impossible things - pushing bottles through tables and cigarettes through coins. We know it's not real and yet we see it: thus we are temporarily released from the iron corset of reason, even as we laugh at ourselves for being fooled. Feels good.

Magic is useful. Myths are helpful, pointing at truths which are all the deeper for not being literal. Neither is a threat to scientific understanding. Let children cast off their clouds of glory at their own pace.

Millions of Cats? Don't exaggerate. One or two, probably.

A Cat or Two?

Perhaps adults should also read only those books that contain facts. Why read about Greek gods when they don’t really exist? Beowulf, King Arthur, King Lear? All made up and no use to us at all. And that so-called history book 1066 And All That – why, some of it isn’t really true. It’s no use being funny if it isn’t true. Anna Karenina? We don’t want people putting their heads under trains over someone who didn’t exist. Lolita? Never happened, but if people read it, they’ll turn into perverts in no time.

No - what we want is facts, as they say in Coketown. Ooops, no they don’t, because Coketown doesn’t exist.

Actually, if you want a real fairy story, try the financial statements of the European Union. They are dull enough for Gradgrind, but are completely made up.