Psychological reasons for belief in astrology
Since my last two posts on astrology were published, a few of my friends have
asked me to write specifically on the psychological dimensions of why people
subscribe to all sorts of metaphysical pseudo-explanations. Well, it seems to me that
there is really only one primary reason why people believe in any of this stuff, and it
is essentially an existential one.
Source: http://www.carlas-cafe.com/2008/08/15/sabines-painting-angst-leaves-theplace/
Sabine’s ‘Angst’
Although there may well be many layers of explanations, it seems to me that,
in a nutshell, at the core of it all lies the fact that people are terrified of the unknown,
and of the unpredictability and uncertainty of the future (Cf. ‘the mass of men live
lives of quiet desperation’ – Henry David Thoreau). Consequently, people draw
comfort, however unreal it might be, from the illusion that they (or someone in any
case) can either foretell the future, or even better, alter it to suit their personal
convenience.
I suppose the roots of this go back to the origins of the human animal, and to
the problems that are inherent in the evolution of a sophisticated brain, capable of
complex thought, which is capable of posing truly disturbing existential questions
about the meaning and purpose of life, and questions about death and what happens
after.
Source: http://nutzenbolts.wordpress.com/ & http://visualcultureblog.com/tag/thescream/
Edvard Munch’s’ Skrik’ (‘The scream’), a painting which to me conveys the pure
terror of existentialist angst.
On the whole of this planet, as far as I can tell, we humans are the only beings
capable of high-level speculation about abstract imponderables like the reasons for
our own existence. In a way of course, the ability to ask such questions is responsible
for both the glory of being human, but this brain which we have evolved is also
capable of posing existentially disturbing questions for which we are incapable of
finding answers, and it is this very brain which is responsible for the angst-filled
predicament in which human beings find themselves.
We can say nothing about other worlds, but on this one at any rate, one class
of animals – comprised I might add of nothing more than long-chain chemicals, albeit
reacting in extremely complex electro-chemical ways – has evolved the ability to
begin wondering about the ultimate mysteries of the universe. That certainly seems
glorious to me but, and here’s the rub, that’s also the source of our problems –
precisely because if we think about it, there really are a myriad of imponderable
mysteries for our sophisticated brain to grapple with, and to experience profound
anguish over.
If you agree that what I have argued thus far is true is true, and that we are
inevitably driven to look for some sort of answers (real or otherwise) to these deep
questions, then you can see where the metaphysical pseudo-explanations fit into this
scheme. They provide answers, albeit unreal ones, to the terrifying questions
surrounding our existence. They also give an illusory, but still much needed sense of
purpose, control, and direction to the unbearable anguish of existence in a world full
of uncertainty.
In addition, there does seem to me to be a strange need for mystery in our
lives. People seem to crave the mystical, be it religion, new-age thought, or magic-
bullet medications for whatever real or imagined disorder it is that people feel they are
suffering from.
There is also a propensity amongst our species, in this age of instant coffee,
instant noodles, and wrinkle-free neckties, to seek instant gratification, and immediate
answers, indifferently, to both intractable problems and to trivial ones. However, as
various folks have already written and said, it’s not easy, and there really are no
instant solutions: As the Katha-Upanishads notes, ‘the sharp edge of a razor is
difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to salvation is hard.’
This constellation of concerns then, as far as I can tell, is the primary force
responsible for the complex of metaphysical quandaries and conundrums which we
find ourselves wallowing in.
There are three main mechanisms by which it operates to fool us into
accepting paste baubles as if they were diamonds: the Barnum effect, the ex post facto
explanation, and the confirmation bias.
The Barnum effect was named for P. T. Barnum, of the Barnum and Bailey
circus, who observed that ‘there’s a sucker born every minute.’ What cognitive
psychologists have interpreted this to mean is that if some prediction is couched in
terms that are vague and general, people (particularly those who are favourably
disposed to believing in that particular predictive art, say astrology) will interpret this
ambiguity in terms which are meaningful to their own situation, and thus imbue it
with a mystical force which in reality it does not have.
After all, if your horoscope says that you will meet someone interesting during
the week, is this really a remarkable prediction? Don’t people generally meet a variety
of characters during the week, some of whom without a doubt could, at a pinch,
qualify as being interesting?
Ex post facto explanations refer to the fact that many people who are ardent
believers in the mystical ‘arts’ go in for explanations after the fact. As an example, the
predictions of Nostradamus constitute a very good instance of ex post facto
explanations. What Nostradamus in fact said in his writings are vague things.
However, people have ‘interpreted’ him, after the fact, as predicting things like the
fall of the Soviet Union. However, I would however hasten to point out that thirty
years ago (during the Cold-War), proponents of Nostradamus, interpreting the same
writings, were claiming that he had predicted a war between America and Russia.
So why this divergence of predictions? The answer is that ex post facto
interpretations of vague earlier predictions must always change as the unknowable
future unfolds.
Finally, the confirmation bias, which is just a fancy way of saying people have
a very strong tendency to selectively remember facts or events which confirm their
views, and to forget the rest. Psychological and sociological studies (particularly in
areas like cognitive psychology, and the sociology of knowledge) have shown that
people will readily and easily block out, or at least down-play a remarkable amount of
contrary evidence, whilst remembering and giving great prominence to even the
scantiest evidence which conforms with what they wish to believe in, or which
affirms what they believe to be true about the world.
So, in summary, I suppose one can say that astrology, palmistry, religion and
all such arts do have a sort of psychological palliative value, in that they, albeit in a
totally non-real way, ease the unbearable incertitude of being. Does it work? Clearly I
don’t think so, but does it make people feel better? It probably does: caveat emptor
though, I’d be very careful about making serious life-decisions (let alone national
policy decisions, as apparently Nancy and by extension Ronnie Reagan did – see Joan
Quigley’s What does Joan say?: My seven years as White House astrologer to Nancy
and Ronald Reagan) on this basis.
This then is why many of the proponents of astrology and other ‘mystical arts’
believe so firmly in their selected metaphysical pseudo-explanations. If you are
interested in doing further reading on this and associated topics, may I yet again
recommend my friend the late Carl Sagan’s book Demon haunted world.