There certainly is a lot for children to be afraid of in today’s world. In fact, there’s a lot we all are afraid of these days. Mythology is how ancient’s developed stories to teach how children and adults as well, combated real fears and dangers in life.
G.K. Chesterton, the prolific English writer and Christian thinker, once remarked, “Children don’t need to be told that dragons exist, they already know. They need to be told dragons can be killed.” This deceptively simple statement carries profound philosophical, theological, and practical weight. It speaks to the innate human awareness of evil, danger, and chaos—symbolized by dragons—and the equally critical need to instill courage and hope that such forces can be overcome. It was very wise when in the past, myth and the power of storytelling in fiction and film, and real-life encounters with literal and metaphorical “dragons” was used to teach courage and hope in the face of danger and evil. Today, myth and story telling is used differently for the most part. Now instead of using the mythological to teach how to face real dangers and evil, myth and story telling is overwhelmingly used to teach society to face imagined dangers and fears and ignore the real ones. The real ones are dealt with chemically now.
The Instinctive Knowledge of Dragons
Chesterton’s assertion begins with a universal truth: children instinctively recognize the presence of danger and malevolence in the world. This aligns with St. Augustine’s reflections on the human condition in his Confessions: “For I was afraid of non-existence, and yet I was not strong enough to hold fast to existence.” Augustine suggests that even from a young age, humans grapple with an awareness of threats—be they physical, moral, or existential. The “dragons” children know are not merely fairy-tale reptiles but representations of chaos, fear, and the unknown, lurking in the shadows of their imagination and experience.
In literature, this primal recognition is vividly captured. Consider J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, where Smaug, the great dragon, embodies greed, destruction, and terror. Tolkien, a devout Catholic, understood the dragon as a symbol of evil—a reality children grasp without explanation. Similarly, in C.S. Lewis’s The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the sea serpent that threatens the ship is a monstrous force the young protagonists instinctively fear. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, “We are born helpless. As soon as we are fully conscious, we discover loneliness. We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves.” The dragon, then, is not just a beast but a manifestation of isolation and peril that children sense in their bones.
The Need to Know Dragons Can Be Killed
If the existence of dragons is self-evident, Chesterton’s deeper point is that children must be taught they are not invincible. This is where courage, faith, and action enter the picture. Søren Kierkegaard, the Danish Christian philosopher, emphasized the necessity of confronting fear in Fear and Trembling: “To venture causes anxiety, but not to venture is to lose one’s self.” For Chesterton, showing, and telling children that dragons can be killed is an act of empowerment—it equips them to face the world’s evils rather than cower before them.
In fiction, this lesson shines through in tales of heroism. In Beowulf, the hero slays the dragon, but at great cost, reflecting the Christian notion that victory over evil almost always demands sacrifice—a theme Chesterton, a lover of paradox, would have appreciated. In Steven Spielberg’s Jaws, the great white shark—a modern dragon—terrorizes Amity Island until Chief Brody, Quint, and Hooper unite to destroy it; in the book Brody is the only one that survives. The film underscores that while the threat is real, human ingenuity and resolve can prevail. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick offers an earlier more complex and ambiguous take of the sea monster theme: Captain Ahab’s obsessive quest to kill the white whale ends in his own destruction, suggesting that the battle against dragons requires wisdom as much as bravery.
Real-Life Dragons and Their Defeat
Myth and fiction are not the only place to learn this lesson. Chesterton’s insight extends into the real world, where “dragons” take tangible forms. Consider the true story of the Champawat Tiger, recounted in Richard Conniff’s No Beast So Fierce. This lone man-eating tigress in early 20th-century India killed over 400 people (that they have documented for sure), sowing terror across many villages, and across the border of two countries. Her reign ended only when Jim Corbett, a hunter with a deep respect for nature, tracked and killed her in 1907. The villagers didn’t need convincing that the tiger was a real “dragon”—they lived in its shadow. What they needed was Corbett’s proof that it could be stopped, restoring safety and hope.
Similarly, the 1996 film The Ghost and the Darkness dramatizes the real-life terror of the Tsavo Man-Eaters—two lions that killed dozens of railway workers in 1898 Kenya. Engineer John Patterson, played by Val Kilmer, ultimately hunts them down, showing that even nature’s fiercest predators can be defeated with determination and skill. These stories echo Chesterton’s point: the dragon’s existence is a given, but its defeat is a revelation.
A Theological Lens
For Chesterton, a committed Christian, and for all Christians, the ultimate dragon is sin and death, both vanquished by Christ. As St. Thomas Aquinas wrote in Summa Theologica, “The human race was in a state of misery [and fear] through the sin of our first parents, but it has been brought back to glory through Christ.” In this light, Chesterton’s statement reflects the Gospel narrative: evil exists, but it is not the final word. Children, in their innocence, sense the darkness, but they must learn through stories, faith, and example that light triumphs.
Why This Matters Today
Chesterton’s wisdom remains urgent in a world brimming with internal and external metaphorical dragons—war, disease, injustice, and personal struggles. Modern films like Jurassic Park (with its resurrected dinosaurs) or even documentaries about surviving natural disasters remind us that threats persist. Yet, the message endures: we are not powerless. Whether it’s a child facing a bully, a community rebuilding after a storm, or a hunter tracking a beast, the knowledge that dragons can be killed fuels hope and resilience.
In the end, Chesterton invites us to embrace a dual truth: the world, and life are perilous, but it is not hopeless. Through the victories of Hero’s and Heroin in fairy tales, epics, and real-life stories, and most importantly Christ; we teach ourselves and the next generation what he knew so well—that dragons in all their forms, can be slain.