Why Are So Many People (Still) Obsessed With Astrology?
If you know who grime star JME is, you’ve probably seen that clip of him. You know the one — he’s talking into his camera, dismissing those who believe in horoscopes. ‘If you believe that somebody born at 11:59 on one day, and then somebody born the next day all have different traits […] You’re a doughnut. You’re stupid! You’re so stupid!’
It’s very funny, and inarguably true — whatever you think of star signs, there are holes in its base of logic, to say the least: though even with my surface-level knowledge, I know there are ‘cusp’ traits, i.e. those whose birthdays lie close to the cut-off of other star signs, who display similar traits to those of the sign they almost were (but that might be my know-it-all Scorpio-cusp coming out).
If you were in any doubt, it was proven by NASA earlier this year that, as the sky we see today is completely different to how it was 3,000 years ago when the Babylonians first invented the 12 zodiac signs, those who consider themselves to be born under a particular zodiac are, in fact, one off. For example, if you’ve always identified as a stoic, level-headed and proud Leo, you’re actually a Cancer — a much more emotional, gentle and nurturing sign.
With this discovery, is it any wonder horoscopes are seen as whimsy at best, and complete stupidity at worst? That’s not even getting into the logistics so beautifully outlined by JME — can a twelfth of the population really share the exact same traits as one another?
But the ridicule, and tenuous logical basis, of horoscopes doesn’t seem to be much of a deterrent for those who are interested in them. Astrology accounts are everywhere these days, from Twitter to Tumblr and, perhaps most prominently, on Instagram.
So why has their popularity continued, long after any likelihood of their validity has all but been disproven?
I think it’s first fair to look at the kinds of people who are interested in horoscopes. I first started reading the star sign sections of magazines when I was a pre-teen, purely for fun, and often because they weren’t entirely inaccurate (I am a Libra to a T — to the point where a co-worker, on my second day on the job, asked me if I was a Libra because she could ‘tell’. Explain that, non-believers!).
It’s clear that the majority demographic of those who have revived the interest in horoscopes are predominantly young and female — a quick glance at the followers of prominent zodiac Instagram pages such as @zcdiacbabe, @glossy_zodiac and @ddofastrology can tell us as much.
It could be argued that this is where much of the ridicule of astrology comes from. Would the collective ribbing and dismissive attitudes be a little less if astrology had a more male-heavy readership? Women’s interests, be it makeup, fashion, or media that’s catered to them more than men (such as rom-coms and female-centred comedies), are often ridiculed, seen as ‘easy’ or ‘soft’. Quick experiment — ask a man who doesn’t believe in astrology why he doesn’t. He’ll probably say it doesn’t have any basis in science. Then ask him if he walks under ladders, salutes magpies, or knocks on wood. If he says yes, ask him what the difference is.
Still: why, four thousand years after the Babylonians first began using the stars to predict their futures, are people still using the stars to judge themselves, others, how their week will go, and whether they should date a Gemini (my most compatible sign, apparently)?
I think another answer can be in the buzzword that we’ve all quickly grown to hate. Brace yourself — I’m talking about ‘unprecedented’. It’s in inboxes and newsletters, adverts and LinkedIn thinkpieces (the OED might as well declare it their word of the year already). But really, it’s perfect — nobody could predict, this time last year, that a deadly virus would break out and halt the world’s proceedings. Certainly not anybody that reads Mystic Meg’s column.
A lot of the comfort of horoscopes is to be found in the idea that we can some have some control over our lives, however infinitesimal. The ‘unprecedented’ events we seem to be finding ourselves seeing now more than ever — viruses, recessions, global catastrophes, political warfare — are dizzying to witness, and for many, fatal to experience. Can we really blame people for trying to gain a bit of supernatural insight into their futures? What harm does it do to read tea leaves, have your tarot read, or be told by a medium that your loved ones have passed over peacefully?
Lastly: honestly, it’s just fun. If there’s one thing about humans, it’s that we love to categorise people. Myers-Briggs tests, football team supporters, whether you live north or south of the UK: if it comes with inbuilt personality traits and a fun colour, we’re all over it. At least with horoscopes the Air signs have never waged war against the Earth signs.
As you’ve probably surmised, I can see both sides to people’s opinions on horoscopes. I know there’s very little difference between me and an Aries, or a Capricorn, or a Sagittarius (not a Cancer though. We’re chalk and cheese). I know we can’t look through a telescope and figure out who’s going to be the next leader of the free world. But for the most part, they’re a harmless, escapist way of dealing with the horrors of the real world. Let’s cut everyone who believes in them a bit of slack.
