I've been thinking a lot about the nature of magic in fantasy settings, particularly urban fantasy since that's what I write. The series I wrote here, Magic as Infrastructure, goes largely into the how of it. I wanted to uset his post to explore the why! It's a long one, so buckle up.
Part I: Magic is Fundamentally Infrastructural to Fantasy
The number of opinions on magic systems in various forms of media — from fantasy literature to epic sci-fi space operas like Star Wars — is about as numerous as the amount of magic systems themselves. Everyone from JRR Tolkien to Seanan McGuire has a unique take on how magic should work within their genre of choice, and fictional media is better for it. There is one seemingly immutable fact about magic in fantasy literature that I have run across in my years both as a reader and as a newly published independent author, however: Magic in fantasy literature is treated almost universally as infrastructure, whether consciously or not.
When most people think of the fantasy genre, they think of knights in shining armor, dragons hoarding gold and sleeping on it as if it were a Temperpedic mattress, and wizards in conical hats shouting magic words and engulfing entire rooms in thirty-foot fireballs. Because of this, magic has become something akin to infrastructure in fantasy and its subgenres. If you have magic in your setting, it exists as a fundamental aspect of the world you've created, and because it exists as a fundamental component in so many fantasy worlds, it exists as a fundamental component within the genre itself.
This is likely obvious to most of you reading this, so I'll not spend too much time on that particular aspect of my point. What I will focus on is the idea that came from both the realization above and the desire I had to create my own magic system and develop my own ideas on the subject. One conclusion I came to most recently is that magic, at its core, treated as infrastructure.
This means different things for different fantasy subgenres, of course. A magical infrustructure as exists in Lord of the Rings is going to behave much differently than a magic system in an urban fantasy series like The Dresden Files, which also depends upon whether or not you're developing a soft magic or a hard magic system. The bottom line is that if magic exists inside a body of work, it supports the world the way electricity and plumbing support modern cities.
Part II: Hard vs. Soft Magic Infrastructure
Other personalities online such as Hello Future Me have explained the differences in hard and soft magic systems elsewhere, so I won't spend too much time on that topic here. Suffice to say that the difference between a hard magic and a soft magic system is rules. The more concrete and immutable your rules are, the harder your magic system is.
But one thing stands out to me about magic in general, regardless of whether the system is hard or soft: Both types of systems have rules, and good versions of both are logical extensions of those rules.
The difference lies in how strictly those rules are applied, and how concretely they are explained.
Lord of the Rings is an example of a soft magic system. Professor Tolkien doesn't explain much about how magic actually works in Middle Earth beyond a few rules to justify why Gandalf can't just magic the Fellowship to Mordor with a teleport spell. After defeating the wolves at the pass of Caradhras, Gandalf explains why they can't stay where they are after the fight:
"If there are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them. . . . I have written Gandalf is here in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin."
This tells us several different things about the nature of magic in Middle Earth.
Casting a spell is akin to a sending up a signal flare, as Gandalf specifically says he's given away at least his location after the fight.
Those who can read the signs he mentions can easily do so.
The Maiar aren't the only ones who can read those signs, otherwise Gandalf wouldn't be worried about giving their location away.
Magic has signatures. Note that Gandalf says “I have written Gandalf is here” rather than “I have written the fellowship is here”. Presumably this means Saruman and Radaghast have their own magical signatures. Unfortunately we never find out because Tolkien never tells us.
Use of any form of magic potentially reveals the caster to those he may or may not want to reveal himself to. Essentially, Gandalf's use of magic has far reaching consequences that even he can't fully foresee, and so his spellcasting is limited by consequences ranging from the practical to the political.
Contrast this with a system of magic like Allomancy, which Brandon Sanderson has made famous by basing it around actual scientific principles, and you have two systems that, at first glance, are as different as night and day.
Yet they both share one simple fact:
They both have rules. Just as electricity, plumbing, transit, and other forms of infrastructure have rules in the real world.
Part III: How This Manifests as Infrastructure in Urban Fantasy
We all know the usual conventions of urban fantasy as a genre. Supernatural creatures from folklore ranging from vampires to werewolves to the Faerie courts themselves living among mortals (sometimes with their knowledge, sometimes without) alongside wizards, secret organizations, and sometimes even actual folkloric personalities like King Arthur or Gywnn Ap Nudd.
The advantage urban fantasy has over other fantasy subgenres in regards to magic as infrastructure is that in addition to being a fundamental narrative convention of fantasy in general, it can function as actual infrastructure alongside the mundane sort of infrastructure that makes up modern cityscapes. This works best with hard magic systems, in my opinion, due to clarity of rules being fundamental to the workings of such a system, but soft magic systems can function this way as well.
The best example I can think of as to how magic can manifest as infrastructure is within the universe of Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra.
In the parent show, Airbender, Aang takes Katara and Sokka to the city of Omashu to show them the delivery system the people use to transport goods throughout the city, which parimarily works by using Earthbenders to manipulate stone in a way that facilitates delivery.
The Fire Nation took a militaristic approach to this idea, incorporating firebenders into their elite military ranks.
The Northern Water Tribe does something similar, by showing us that waterbenders can execute the defense of an entire nation by employing waterbenders to manipulate ice in such a way that they can open and close walls of it like gateways.
In the sequel series, Korra, we see this taken even further by employing lightning benders to supply actual power plants with the energy they need to run.
While it's true that The Last Airbender is not, in fact, urban fantasy, Legend of Korra IS (or at least shares a great many elements of it), which lends credence to the idea.
Part IV: How Magic can Manifest as Actual Infrastructure
In urban fantasy, magic is best applied when it is treated as the infrastructural foundation of the setting in which it is being used.
I think J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter stories, while not urban fantasy, show how this can manifest rather well. Showing us that entire governments are formed around the existence of magic, complete with bureueacratic bottlenecks, interdepartmental memos, and an entire transit system involving chimneys and powder, are an excellent example of how a magical society can incoroprate magic into its workings the way we do with roads and bridges, power lines and water reservoirs.
Part V: Magic as Infrastructure Should Have Consequences.
Magic without consequences is, quite frankly, boring. If magic only exists to solve a problem with a finger snap, then the story's conflict effectively does not matter. Treating magic as infrastructure solves this problem rather neatly.
How, you ask?
Simply put, unintended consequences are themselves a natural consequence of treating magic this way. Magic as infrastructure has similar limitations to those that infrastructure itself has. And remembering this will help enrich your stories by introducing conflicts you'd never otherwise have thought of.
When I was developing my own magic system, I decided to start with a simple, ubiquitous component: Caffeine. I was looking for a method by which I could conceal the supernatural in my setting in a similar manner as to how the High Table keeps itself concealed through codewords and the existence of the Continental Hotel. Some research into Seattle, Washintgon's coffee culture made it the perfect smokescreen.
This naturally led me to ask several questions about what happens when a person doesn't get the caffeine they crave, as well as the consequences of using top shelf caffeine like high end Seattle brews or Turkish blends of coffee as opposed to dollar store cola and other, less prestigous substances.
In short, I was forced to follow the logic chain until I worked out the consequences of not being properly caffeinated and having a connection to the source of my world's magic. I go into more detail in my currently-six-part series Magic as Infrastructure right here on Reddit, and am working on a series of long form Youtube videos explaining the nitty gritty details of the world and magic's place in it.
In conclusion, magic should be treated like infrastructure in fantasy and its various subgenres because, simply put, it is. And treating it as such will make you ask questions you would not otherwise have asked, just as I did when creating the Sound and Steel universe.
What do you think? Do you agree or disagree? Are there any examples you can think of that I missed that either support or refute the point I made?
I'm eager to find out!