astrology is (in) retrograde
our cohort’s search for meaning among the stars
“Oh, that probably sounded toxic. It’s just because I’m a Capricorn.”
I’m sorry, what? When did that become okay to say?
It’s clear that astrology is coming into vogue again, predominantly among Gen Z and late millennials — and for a pair of generations that overwhelming believe in climate change, vaccines, and the like, it’s a puzzling contradiction that they should revert to a system of belief that came into existence even before the creation of some major religions. But the shift is undeniable, and it seems to go beyond the realm of harmless fun. A 2019 survey found that 49% of Canadian millennials profess a belief in astrology, and iPhone apps providing horoscopes and star charts are regulars among the App Store’s most downloaded. Even dating apps now allow users to filter potential matches based on astrological compatibility, turning your star sign into as valid of a dealbreaker as your sexuality.
The rise in interest and popularity has taken place first on YouTube and recently (as well as more intensely) on TikTok. Comprised of pithy titles, a smattering of graphics or photos that range the full spectrum from intricate to ugly, and the infamous computer-generated female voice (though I admit that may be a personal irritant), these videos are clickbaity and easy to understand, requiring very little background and providing no sources.
“The Most Dangerous Signs”
“Zodiac Pairings You Should Be Afraid Of”
“The Fire Signs Texting Their Bestie Like: [and then one of those skits where the same person plays multiple characters; if I say it’s reminiscent of Vine, does that make me sound old?]”
So why exactly is this ancient precursor to psychology returning to inhabit the zeitgeist (often in the form of zodiac listicles, like if Buzzfeed went to an ashram in India and came back smelling of patchouli)?
The cohort that has been most involved in astrology in recent years has grown up in an era of economic and political turmoil and uncertainty about the future, not to mention a depressing state of affairs on the environmental and ecological front that seems to be edging forward like a train with no real chance of derailment. Our lives are inextricably linked with science and technology, and hyperrationalism has made the chasm between the provably factual and the faithfully unknown even greater; it’s more comforting, perhaps, to exist in the grey, eschewing the polarization of choosing one side. With this background in mind, astrology can seem like a comforting retreat into a simpler, more innocent time, when it was socially acceptable to attribute successes and misfortunes alike to supernatural forces rather than one’s own circumstances.
While the authors are sympathetic to the stresses that may have spurred astrology’s revival, the tendency of this method of thinking to be a slippery slope to more radical and concerning ideology cannot be ignored. The dangers of Internet-mediated radicalization hopefully need no introduction in a post-QAnon world, but the popularization of astrology has brought with it more subtle concerns. Scrolling through TikTok, one gets the impression that astrology is commonly used as an excuse to avoid responsibility for character flaws, which are instead blamed on a sign — while many of these clips are certainly intended ironically, it does perpetuate a harmful idea about people needing to accept everything about you, as toxic as certain traits may be.
“If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best” had its time in the limelight, but while the principle may be sound, abandoning self-improvement seems like the wrong takeaway. Issues of character development aside, the endless astrology TikToks are consistently overproduced, with titles, graphics, and garishly loud music dwarfed by the presence of elaborate makeup looks that belong on a magazine cover — one wonders how much of the resurgence in astrology is an excuse to advertise cosmetics.
And that’s another thing: astrology’s return to grace is overwhelmingly a female phenomenon, as it always had been, with the recent addition of the queer community. There are almost twice as many women who believe in the merits of astrology compared to men. The reasons for this are varied, but they all boil down to the fact that self-reflection, including aspects of temperament, emotion, and stress, is something women have always been more expected to engage with. Spirituality increases during times of stress, as we spoke of earlier; and straight men have always had less reasons for stress and less permission to speak about them where they do exist.
[Insert “the patriarchy” joke here].
Historically, the dichotomy between objectivity and subjectivity, practicality and emotion, the empirical and the anecdotal has been assigned masculine and feminine persuasions. While we know now that this is not inherent, it still permeates society and affects real people and their willingness to indulge in anything deemed irrational. Generally, women are more open to existing in either camp, but men still remain confined to one — unless they begin to break the mold by identifying with the queer community and find themselves more able to explore further away from the status quo.
Meanwhile, most straight men are either not interested in the idea (a perfectly acceptable solution to which the authors themselves subscribe) or are actively dismissive. But it’s not like debunking will convince anyone who believes in astrology metaphorically to repent, nor will it head off astrological evangelism at the pass; finding comfort in the clichés, truisms, and reassurances that readings and horoscopes provide is largely harmless, and it has a low barrier to entry for those in stress or distress. Fewer people make fun of participation in the lottery, which is a more male phenomenon, because taking solace or enjoyment from something with a small probability — even if said probability is so small as to be almost negligible — is understandable. So long as the pipeline to more radical ideas remains empty, astrology is simply a language with adequate vocabulary to discuss life’s challenges and hardships, much in the same way as therapy and self-help books.
Speaking of which: astrology books are topping the charts, written by popular online creators and widely-anticipated by fans prior to their release; love, Vedic, and natal categories receive the most attention. The market also generates revenue through ad revenue and sponsorships on YouTube and TikTok videos. And for the most loyal (and wealthy) devotees, there are subscriptions to astrology apps and personal readings, which the popularity of video conferencing has made much more accessible.
It’s hard not to notice a certain irony permeating the whole narrative of astrology resurging as an escape from hyperrationality and Internet fatigue: the resurgence has been mediated almost completely by social media, with modern astrology mostly (and, as covered above, somewhat unfortunately) living on TikTok reels, #relatable Instagram meme accounts, and advertisement-laden iPhone apps that promise to compile your birth chart and provide exclusive daily readings in exchange for a wealth of personal information. Perhaps the best interpretation of the phenomenon is as a sort of third position on the Internet, situated between the extremes of skeptic rationality and blind rejection of science. We, two famously skeptic rationalists, decided to open our minds and test our theory: by trying out an astrology app called The Pattern.
After first creating our birth chart using a different service (and finding that we share more than a sun sign — our Jupiters are in Gemini and our Plutos are in Sagittarius #justiceforpluto), we filled out the brief questionnaire on the app, reluctantly noting down the exact dates and times of our birth (and, because they’re clearly crucial to the calculation, our email addresses). We were led to a page with a veritable cornucopia of insights on everything from personality traits — in categories like instinct, growth, and destiny, the latter of which is not a personality trait — to important dates in our lives, and an engine to test the strengths and weaknesses of our friendship and relationship bonds. Being generous, about half of the generated insights were at least mildly insightful, though the accuracy was questionable; it seemed vague enough to not be totally off base, which may be a calculated choice. The rest was the sort of emotional support you can expect from real-life relationships with family, friends, and colleagues. In particular, the app seemed to read deeply into areas that were actually quite simple and in no need of specific analysis. The most exciting content, as expected, was locked behind a paywall (though it was fun to test the relationship compatibility between Donald Trump and Elon Musk without spending a dime).
The app did not improve our opinion on astrology — in fact, it almost moved us away from thinking of it as “harmless fun” back into the realm of ridicule, but we steadied that ship. It’s difficult to imagine that anyone would need the sort of heavy-handed reassurance the app tries to provide, but loneliness is endemic in a hyperrational and increasingly online world. Perhaps astrology’s renewed spotlight should be interpreted as a canary in the coal mine — have interpersonal relationships and the social fabric that connects us degraded so much that this is what people are turning to for validation? This lurking undercurrent needs to be addressed, because taking comfort in the stars will not be the solution for everyone, and more serious problems will require more drastic solutions — even for the most devoted followers.
But in the meantime, filtering our Bumble matches by star sign in hopes it will help us find The One will have to do. This too, shall pass.