in many ways. And although Jung tried without success to sell astrology to his mentor, Sigmund Freud, from whom he later broke, his astrological musings have done much to shape contemporary astrology.
Following the Sun
In August 1930, something unprecedented took place in the astrological world. In London, the editor of the Sunday Express asked the astrologer Cheiro (aka William John Warner) to write about the horoscope of the new royal baby, Margaret. When Cheiro declined, his assistant, R. H. Naylor, stepped in. He foresaw “an eventful life” for the little princess with “events of tremendous importance to the Royal Family and the nation” in her seventh year. A few weeks later, he predicted problems for British aircraft between October 8 and 15. On the fifth, a large airship — a hydrogen-filled dirigible — crashed and exploded in France, killing 48 people. It was a few days early, but never mind: Like Evangeline Adams and William Lilly before him, Naylor benefitted from predicting a disaster. The editor asked him to write a regular column with predictions for everyone. Naylor did this based on birthdays — that is, on Sun signs. This had not been done before, and it was an immediate hit. Circulation rocketed up, and rival publications hired their own astrologers to write similar columns. And so the horoscope column, based on Sun sign, became a regular part of the daily paper. When King Edward VIII, aka the Duke of Windsor, abdicated the throne of England during Margaret’s seventh year in order to marry a divorced American, a scandal that riveted the entire world, Naylor’s reputation was secured. His later predictions — so, so wrong — mattered not a whit.
Hitler’s astrologers
Adolf Hitler was not a fan of astrology, although it was popular in Germany. In 1923, an astrologer named Elsbeth Ebertin wrote in her almanac, A Glance into the Future, that “a man of action born on 20 April 1889” — everyone knew who that was — should exercise caution that November. Annoyed, Hitler forged ahead with his plan to seize power in Munich. When the Beer Hall Putsch, as it was called, failed, Hitler was sentenced to five years in prison. He served nine months — just long enough to complete Mein Kampf.
In 1933, when he became chancellor, his birth chart was widely discussed, and not always favorably, with the result that by 1934, astrology was essentially banned. But as the Romans learned centuries before, astrology never disappears for long. In 1939, a Swiss astrologer named Karl Ernst Krafft, a staunch supporter of the Third Reich, alerted a friend in Germany that between November 7 and 10, Hitler’s life would be in danger. And sure enough: an assassination attempt was made, a bomb exploded. Hitler was unharmed, having left the building earlier than expected, but Krafft was dragged in for questioning. He convinced the authorities that he had not been involved and he ended up in Berlin, working for the Nazis. They directed him to parse the prophecies of Nostradamus to see what lay ahead. He found that the quatrains augured well for the future of Nazi Germany.
But no one was safe in Nazi Germany, including Krafft. When one of Hitler’s henchmen, Rudolf Hess, took off in a small plane and crash-landed in Scotland in 1941, the Nazis blamed his unofficial solo flight on his unhinged mental state and his interest in astrology. Another crackdown followed. Astrologers were arrested and their libraries confiscated. Most were only forced to stop practicing, but a few, including Krafft, were imprisoned and sent to concentration camps. After a year in solitary, Krafft died in January 1945 while being transferred to Buchenwald.
Meanwhile, astrology may have been banned, but members of Hitler’s inner circle were consumed by it. In April 1945, joseph Goebbels examined Hitler’s chart and that of the Third Reich and announced that a turn-around in the war was imminent. When Franklin Roosevelt died in office later that month, he was jubilant, certain that this meant victory. It did not. Within weeks, Goebbels and Hitler committed suicide, and Germany surrendered. Astrology is still recovering from the embarrassment of the association.
Greeting the dawn
In late April 1968, the rock musical Hair with its opening number, “Aquarius,” premiered on Broadway. Six months later, Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs was published, the first astrology book ever to hit the bestseller list. “What’s your sign?” became first a pick-up line, then a cliché, and finally the least cool thing a person could possibly say, even if it was what everyone wanted to know. In those days, there were astrological bookstores galore; classes in living rooms and coffee shops; discussion groups that convened in hipster movie theatres; paperback books with state-by-state listings of professional astrologers you could call on the phone, numbers included. If this wasn’t the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, what was?
Astrology reached a peak of visibility in 1988, when a former member of Ronald Reagan’s administration revealed that President Reagan and his wife, Nancy, regularly consulted an astrologer who timed their every move. The mockery was relentless. And it had an effect. Over the next decade, here and there, horoscope columns disappeared. Metaphysical bookstores closed their doors. If you weren’t looking, you might have thought that astrology was fading.
In fact, astrology was on the cusp of a fantastic blossoming, a Renaissance. The internet was part of it, as was the development of software that anyone could use. But the larger change wasn’t about the method of delivery or the ease of access. It was about expanding the worldview of astrology and reclaiming its history.
Astrologers began to examine traditions outside of western astrology such as Chinese, Meso-American, and Vedic astrology, the astrology of India. Also known as Jyotish, Vedic astrology has been particularly influential. It shares a chunk of its DNA with western astrology but veers off in other directions, using a sidereal zodiac based on the constellations rather than the ecliptic and relying on techniques unknown in western astrology.
Astrologers have also burrowed into the history of western astrology. In a decades-long effort spearheaded by astrologer Robert Hand, Project Hindsight, and the Archive for the Retrieval of Historical Astrological Texts or ARHAT (that being a Buddhist term for a person moving toward enlightenment), astrologers have translated ancient and medieval manuscripts and revived neglected techniques from centuries ago. Initially, this looked like an arcane interest shared by a tiny cadre of scholarly astrologers. But the excitement generated by their pursuit has rippled through the astrological community. Today, there is widespread interest in ancient techniques, particularly those of Hellenistic astrology, which was used through the Roman Empire and is currently undergoing an astonishing revival.
So astrology has changed. In the space of only a few decades, astrology has deepened and broadened, expanded its vocabulary, welcomed new celestial bodies into its cosmos, and incorporated ancient techniques of timing and analysis that most western astrologers knew nothing of — until recently. As unlikely as it seems, everything old is new again.
A History of Western Astrology, Volumes I and II, by Nicholas Campion (Bloomsbury Academic, 2008). A magisterial, scholarly work.
The Secrets of the Vaulted Sky: Astrology and the Art of Prediction by David Berlinkski (Harcourt, Inc., 2003). Entertaining, evocative, and full of attitude.
Astrology: A History by Peter Whitfield (Harry N. Abrams, 2001). Nicely written and, unlike other books on the topic, profusely, gorgeously illustrated.
The Fated Sky: Astrology in History by Benson Bobrick (Simon & Schuster, 2005). Brilliant, fascinating, full of fantastic details. I recommend it without hesitation.
