A Sociology of Tarot

The characteristics of a Tarot deck are peculiar. A Tarot deck is a set of cards in two parts (Dummett 1980) — a set of fifty-six minor cards, minor arcana, or suit cards, and a set of 22 additional ‘major’ cards. In the ‘minor’ part of the deck there are four suits (Swords, Batons, Cups, and Coins), each of which contains the cards ace through ten as well as a King, Queen, Knight, and Jack. The major cards contain a Fool card, traditionally labeled 0, and twenty-one other major arcana or trump cards, numbered from I to XXI.
Historically, the trump cards were:

I	The Mountebank	VIII	Justice	XV	The Devil
II	The Popess	IX	The Hermit	XVI	The Tower
III	The Empress	X	The Wheel of Fortune	XVII	The Star
IV	The Emperor	XI	Fortitude	XVIII	The Moon
V	The Pope	XII	The Hanged Man	XIX	The Sun
VI	Love	XIII	Death	XX	Judgement
VII	The Chariot	XIV	Temperance	XXI	The World

According to Dummet (1980, 7), it is the presence of the twenty-two ‘triumphs’ that always “distinguishes the Tarot pack from every other kind of playing-card pack.” In a Tarot deck, the minor arcana may or may not be painted with images; however, the major arcana are almost always illustrated with fanciful, mythological, spiritual, and cultural imagery.

When the Tarot first came into existence the deck was little more than a picture book, a system for gaming, possibly a device for gambling (Dummett 1980) and held no mystical, magical, or di vinatory signifi- cance (Farley 2009). The Tarot did, arguably, have allegorical signifi- cance and Farley (2009) provides a convincing argument that the tarot, originating within the cultural milieu of the Egyptian Mamlūk caste, was reinvented as an allegory for the life of the Viscontis, rulers of Milan, but beyond that there is no evidence (despite protestations of authors like Place (2005) who erroneously assert the tarot’s mystical credentials based on its association with the mystical secular art of the Renaissance), to suggest it was anything other than a simple game of cards. According to Farley (2009, 3), “It began its life as a game with no purpose beyond providing mental stimulation. It contained no esoteric wisdom, could provide no spiritual advice and gave no clue as to how to conduct one’s life.” These days, however, the Tarot has become much more. At its most sinister, the Tarot is an indicator of, and perhaps gateway to, satanic worship (Rudin 1990).
Some traditional Christians, in particular those of an evangelical bent, have a powerful belief that the Tarot is a book of the devil. This belief is so powerful that even to mention the word ‘tarot’ causes a vis- ceral, fear-based reaction (Anon 2012).
However, the Tarot is not primar- ily seen in this way. Much more common is a belief that the Tarot was designed for, and can be used as, a tool for cartomancy. In the early days of Tarot mysticism it was thought that the Tarot could provide a gate- way or a channel that would facilitate communion with jinn, angels, and other exalted heavenly hosts. More recently, the superstition has been tempered, but the belief in gateways and channels remains, and in some surprising places. These days, the most respectable way to present the art of divination would be as an attempt to explain the world where science seems unable to work (Maitre & Becker 1966), as a tool for developing the ‘inner eye’ (Noddings & Shore 1984), or perhaps a way to tap into the knowledge contained in the unconscious (Bala 2008). The Tarot also holds a respected place in Jungian psychology as a way to connect with “that level of nature that lies behind stars and cards and psyche and is expressed in all of them” (Spiegelman 1998, 93). For Spiegelman “that level of nature” is the level of ‘archetypes.’ According to Spiegelman ‘archetypes’ represent grand cosmic templates and patterns all of which can, when suitably connected with, yield prescient and prophetic con- tent.However, as noted above, while the twenty-two trump cards that dis- tinguish a Tarot deck from a ‘normal’ pack may have been developed with allegory in mind (Farley 2009;Franco Pratesi1989), there are no estab- lished references to the use of the Tarot as a fortune-telling tool until the middle of the eighteenth century (Dummett 1980). The first association of the Tarot with mystical or divinatory proclivities emerge specifically with the work of Antoine Court de Gébelin, M[onsieur] le C[omte] de M. and Etteilla (whose real name was Jean-Baptiste Alliette). Both can be traced to the publication, in 1781, of Court de Gébelin’s nine-volume Le Monde primitif, more precisely, to two seminal essays, one by Court de Gébelin, and the other by M. le C. de M. (Dummett 1980). Prior to this publication, the Tarot was seen as nothing more than a vehicle for a game of cards, and an outlet for the vice of gambling. Afterward, however, the Tarot gradually became a divinatory masterpiece and key to all life’s mysteries. Before we address the question of why the Tarot changed, and what is significant about the dates, it will be worthwhile to highlight just what the Tarot has become since Court de Gébelin first set the ball rolling

It is surprising enough that the tarot, a mere pack of cards with pretty pictures, would become a significant tool in the repository of the Jungian therapist, but even more surprising is the spiritual import that has been placed on this not-really-so-ancient pack of cards. For many, the Tarot has become a hermetic or spiritual tool. ‘Hermetic,’ in this instance, is to be understood both as “a tool of occult science and magic,” and as “hav- ing a lineage traceable to Hermes Trismegistus.” Thrice-great Hermes was the mythological author of a corpus of works teaching Hermeti- cism, a belief that the world can be influenced through contact with and exploitation of ‘heavenly forces’ — magic in other words. In this view, the Tarot is a book of ‘special’ symbols, a “perfectly simple philosophical machine” that contains “the whole science” and “that astonishes by the depth of its results” (Levi 2002, 85). According to this line of thought, the Tarot is not an ‘open’ book; rather, it is a secret book, a hidden book, one open only to those who undergo a “special training of the mind” (Ouspensky 1976, 2). With the tarot, it becomes possible to mediate be- tween humanity and the Godhead, between god/spirit/consciousness and profane human existence (Semetsky 2011a). In the Hermetic tradition, Tarot is variously a teaching tool used to develop special skills, a “com- plete code of Hermetic symbolism” (Ouspensky 1976, 2), a “summary of Hermetic Sciences” (Ouspensky 1976, 6), and a way of revealing the “interface between human kind and the cosmos” (Jorgensen & Jorgensen 1982, 381). Occult reality, then, is “idealistic” or spirit like in fundamental character. The material world (that world available to sensory experience) is held to be an illusion; matter, in other words, is dominated by spirit. The Tarot symbolically represents material phenomena (heavenly bodies, political, family, economic relations) in terms of nonmaterial principles and forces thought to constitute the True nature of the universe. Though hidden and concealed, these supernatural forces are accessible to human beings by way of intuitive, mystical, or psychic insights. (Jorgensson & Jorgensen 1982, 380)
As Jayanti (2004, ix) notes:

We will return to analysis of ‘hermetic mysteries’ of Tarot shortly. It is worth noting that out of the view that Tarot is some magical, spiritual tool have arisen other schools of thought. Noteworthy is the Jungian school of psychology where you will find the same hyperbolic discourse on the powerful tarot. Here the Tarot is a tool for praxis therapy, a thing to facili- tate the process of ‘individuation’ (Gad 1994), an instrument capable of “heal[ing the] human psyche and lift[ing the] human spirit” (Semetsky 2010b, 59), and offering transformation and transcendence (Bala 2010). Its efficacy is established by linking it to psychological theories of ‘ab- jection’ and archetypal psychology (Semetsky 2000). We can use indi- vidual archetypes to facilitate self-journey and awareness, reading deep archetypal significance from them (Nichols 1974). In certain branches of psychology, the Tarot is even more than mere individuation. Its utility is extended into the world of semiotics and child psychology (Jayanti 2004). Some see Tarot as a tool to teach children the “three I’s” of “in- formal education”: intuition, insight, imagination (Semetsky 2011a), or even as a powerful therapeutic tool, a reflection of the four gateways of childhood, bursting with deep psychological meaning, a divine reflec- tions of deep psychology so powerful that it might help heal the inner child and rework toxic socialization. As Jayanti (2004, 8) notes: To conclude, [because] so many of us were brought up in dysfunctional families...a great need to re-habituate or re-parent...ourselves has arisen. Many types of work geared to reclaim and heal the Inner Child have be- come available to answer this need. The ancient Qabalistic Tarot and Tree of Life have offered the tools with which to do this type of transforma- tional work. According to Semetsky (2011a, 252) “The Tarot images that are laid down in a particular pattern are thereby ‘selected’ by soul, by the uncon- scious, and cannot be considered random.” In this way, the Tarot becomes a kind of mystical Rorschach, allowing an individual or therapist access to deep levels of meaning in the collective memory pool for the purpos- es of spiritual work, meaning, and mythological revelation (Semetsky 2009; 2011b). “When symbolically represented in Tarot images, the tran- scendental realm of the psyche is being brought, so to speak, down to earth by virtue of its embodiment in physical reality.” (Semetsky 2010a, 110, emphasis in the original). In line with this line of thinking Nichol- son (2003) uses the Tarot to illustrate deep wisdom of feminist theology, and Santarcangeli (1979, 33) informs us of the deep cosmic ‘wisdom’ of the fool. If you believe the psychologists, pregnant with meaning, the Tarot is a teacher of lessons and a font of cosmic/genetic/racial wisdom and memory.

The first clues to unraveling the ‘mystery’ come from the temporal loca- tion of its emergence as a divinatory tool, specifically, during the French Revolution. At that time, traditional power structures were crumbling and New World industrial capitalism was emerging. The popular mind sees this period as one of general emancipation, but as any sociologist will know, the history of the French, English and Dutch revolutions and the emergence of industrial capitalism is not the history of the end of class oppression. Instead, it is the history of the replacement (more or less) of one ruling class with another. During the transition, feudal re- lations of power, feudal ideological institutions, and feudal systems of control were replaced with industrial ones.
The story of this transformation is understood, at least in general terms, as a disciplinary revolution. Between the eighteenth century and middle of the nineteenth, Western institutions changed dramatically (Kieser 1998) and new forms of behavior were required if industrial capitalism was to survive and thrive (Weber 2003). It essentially came down to the creation of new kinds of authority, and new power relations, as economic, productive, and social crises brought the old feudal order to its knees (Dobb 1972). It is, in short, about the creation of modern corporate/ bureaucratic control structures, fitting workers and middle management with the executive branches, and creating the well-oiled capitalist machine we have today (Barnard 1968). In the context of the disintegration of traditional organizations and traditional authority struc- tures, the issue was one of authority, command, control, and legitimacy (Weber 2003), especially in emerging industrial production. Modern corporations and bureaucracies have top-down executive control and established disciplinary procedures, but these things would have been absent at the cusp of the revolution. At that time, there would have been an obvious need to create new organizational structures and civilizing influences (Elias 1994), and of course, that is what happened. It is a com- mon story in sociology with the rise of the Protestant ethic (Weber 1987; 2003) and the dispersion of ‘institutional strategies’ for maintaining col- lective discipline throughout Europe (Gorski 1993, 266).
In the context of ‘institutional strategies’ for maintaining collective discipline, freemasonry and other middle-class “men’s huts” [2] (Jewkes, 2005, 47)3 can been analyzed sociologically. According to Jewkes (2005), freemasonry is part of a male bonding ritual, characterized by hierarchies and exclusions, and that reproduces and reaffirms patriarchy, unequal power relations, and ‘male’ hegemony. Jewkes’ comments are relevant here, not so much for the Masonic performance of patriarchy, but for the way the Masonic universe reinforces and, more importantly, re-creates power relations, not in a feudal way, but in a bourgeois one.
When they were first introduced, Masonic lodges were safe places to explore, proselytize, and convert people to the new social order. “It was in the lodges and through them that the bourgeoisie acquired a so- cial form of its own. In imitating both its mystery won a place beside the ecclesiastical mysteries and the arcane politics of States” (Koselleck 1988, 72, quoted in Horn 2011, 111). According to Kieser (1998, 47), freemasonry was part of the shift in control and disciplinary strategies from feudal organizations, such as guilds, which “encompassed” mem- bers “in total”) and organizations that required less complete forms of immersion (i.e. pre-modern bureaucracies). In this context, freemasonry was an ideological and pedagogical control strategy, helping to facilitate not only required changes in behaviour, but also the development and acceptance of modern command and control structures. As Kieser notes:

In the context of the disciplinary revolution, Gorski (1993) notes two important features of the new organizations: an ethic of social discipline and surveillance. Members of modern organizations enter into a disci- plinary community with all the standard features of modern control, in- cluding enclosure, partitioning, ranking, organizational rules, etc. (see, for example, Foucault 1975). Furthermore, the ethic of social discipline requires mutual (later technological) surveillance. freemasonry was very popular in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, a time when feudal methods of control and discipline were dissipating and new forms were required. freemasonry provided discourses of authority, a disciplinary ethic, an d provisions for mutual surveillance and social discipline, all rooted in and inspired by Calvinism and ascetic Protest- ant ethics (Gorski 1993). Kieser (1998) provides a revealing translation of several masonic speeches of the era. Freemasons saw themselves as ‘impressive men,’ conscious of their role in the formation of new social orders, and actively involved in steering its emergence. Freemasons had a moral duty for mutual education in temperance, politeness, prudence, perseverance, and other characteristics suitable to a new and emerging bourgeois society. Freemasons were admonished to be active, to have a strong work ethic, and to engage themselves in useful labour, all very valuable advice for anyone seeking entrance into the power centres of the emerging middle classes.
Lodges were thus organizations that enabled their members to de- velop precisely those skills they would need as capitalism developed. Lodges constructed the first hierarchies [3] divorced from feudal tradition basing advancement not on ‘the dignity of birth,’ but on the acquisition of key organizational and moral skills, such as self-discipline, reliability, loyalty, and subservience to the command chain, and this was true even for nobles (Manheim 1979, cited in Kieser 1988). Nobles entered lodges as well, and they did so as a way to transition themselves from old power re- lationships into new ones. Lodges offered a way for old layers of nobility to mingle with emerging industrial elites (Kieser 1988). Similarly, Free- masonry offered the upper bourgeoisie fulfillment of its need for prestige and recognition. In this way, secret societies, as they initially emerged, helped to bridge the social gap (Kieser 1988). Perhaps most importantly, freemasonry facilitated the development of a morality that would facili- tate business relationships (Schindler 1982, cited in Kieser 1988). In this regard, freemasonry can be considered a brilliant and self-conscious strat- egy for lubricating the transition from and old to a new world order — it helped create new modes of discipline and authority, and new power struc- tures, all the while co-opting potential resistance (by incorporating feudal authority) and obscuring the intent and outcome of its operations.
The ideological, political, and social functions of the Freemasons (and other secret groups) have long been established.[4] The question now becomes, “What does all this have to do with the tarot?” The answer is, “Everything.” From almost the beginning, the Tarot has been an essential part of ideological indoctrination in secret brotherhoods, and a tool useful for facilitating the mutual education of the emerging social elites. Indeed, new speculative lodges were barely open a day before Tarot became in- corporated. The moment of creation of the ‘occult tarot,’ and the principle author responsible, are highly revealing indicators. As Dummett notes:

Court de Gébelin initiated the idea of the occult tarot. Following him, the idea of ‘the Tarot as occult masterpiece’ was extended by Freemasons, clerics, and other members of the emerging elite (Dummett 1980). The ideological imposition reached a sort of culmination with the work of prominent Freemason, A.E.Waite in the early twentieth century, but even down to this day Tarot decks are regularly linked to secret societies.6 For example, authors such as Jayanti (2004, v) reference well-known Free- masons like Paul Foster Case as teachers. And lest one doubt the inser- tion of Tarot into ideologies of hierarchy and control, Jayanti unselfcon- sciously discusses major modern decks as derived from elite organiza- tions participating in the ‘spiritual hierarchies’ (read ‘elite hierarchies’) of this world:

The question now becomes, why choose Tarot for this purpose and why incorporate it as a tool of indoctrination when it was merely a card game at the time? The answer, although lost in the mists of time, likely revolves around (a) the allegorical meaning of the images, a meaning linked to the Italian courts of the fifteenth century, (b) their suitability as an imaginative device capable of absorbing additional meaning, and (c) their suitability for ideologically impregnated drama. As Dummett (1980) notes, the original Tarot decks were painted for members of the royal elite. As Farley (2009) discovered, the images themselves were representative of the life and times of important noble families. Thus the images incorporated themes that any sociologist would recognize as representing elite life, elite priorities, elite ideology, and elite spiritu- ality.7 There is a Court Fool, for example, and a Court Juggler. The au- thority of the state and church are clearly represented in the Empress, Emperor, and Pope cards. There’s a Chariot carrying the king, a Hermit (a monk perhaps), an angel of Temperance, and the Justice of the royal courts. Death, a common fact of life, is represented, as is Love (and mar- riage). Even the Christian last Judgement, a cautionary tale if there ever was one, is there.

Figure One: The Emperor and Hierophant (Pope) from the Rider-Waite Deck

The presence of elite ideology and practice in the already existing Tarot deck would likely have been attractive to the Protestant clerics and Free- masons who co-opted the deck. After all, they were demonstrably mem- bers of the elite already. More attractive perhaps would have been the opportunity to read in additional meaning. Images are worth a thousand words we are told, but what words those might be are often a matter of imagination and interpretation. As recognized by some Jungian psych- ologists (see, for example, Rosengarten 2000), Tarot images (like any good images) are artistic devices that can carry significant additional meaning. It took only a few years before the originators of the occult Tarot had impressed dogma, magic, and mysticism from the Western esoteric traditions upon the tarot.[5] Soon Tarot cards conveyed cabbalis- tic, astrological, alchemical, and gnostic import (Decker and Dummett 2002). The allegorical bed of the Tarot provided a fertile ground within which to plant the seeds of a new, post-feudal ideology

For five centuries or more Tarot cards have been used in Europe , ostensibly for games and fortune-telling, but really to preserve the essentials of a se- cret doctrine. They form a symbolic alphabet of the ancient wisdom, and to their influence upon the minds of a few enlightened thinkers we may trace the modern revival of interest in that wisdom. (Case 2012, 5)

The question remains, “What exactly is the ideology embedded in the tarot?” We might think that uncovering this ideology would be a ma- jor challenge, especially since Western esoteric traditions are, by and large, secret traditions, but it is not that hard, for several reasons. For one thing, and as contradictory as it might seem, modern esoteric traditions are by and large written traditions (Versluis 2007). Ideology is imprinted in words and images, and it is often very easy, if one has the right per- spective (the “eyes to see” as they say), or can make a simple intellec- tual connection, to read the ideology directly from the image or text. Consider the Wheel of Fortune card, which is typically said to indicate the ‘kingdom’ or, more directly, the world around us. It is an image of reality, often with karma invoked. It is the expression of spirit, a work- ing out of the true law of the universe, a perfect representation of divine providence, or as Paul Foster Case says, a representation of “spirit in self-expression”

It is quite interesting that Case drops the word ‘social order’ into his description of the meaning of this card. What a social order, however limited, has to do with the self-expression of Spirit is unclear, but it is apparently related. Case of course doesn’t bring out the nature of the social order in his text. This is a “secret” tradition after all where the inner truths of the hearts of men are drawn out in the hidden spaces of the temple alcove. The meaning of the card, and the nature of the “social order,” is available however in the visual imagery of the card with clar- ity, precision, and dramatic oomph. Consider the Golden Dawn image below.

Figure Two:  The Golden Dawn World Card

The social order that Case is referring to is quite plain to see in the card above. Nature below, the gods above, and the wheel of life’s cycles of (birth and rebirth) in between. This is an elite social order and this elite social order is embedded in Western esoteric traditions all the way back to Plato, as Versluis notes of his Republic, “The Republic also res- onates with the recurrent idea of creating a spiritual utopia governed by an enlightened elite, a concept found much later, for example, in the Rosicrucian movement of the seventeenth century” (Versluis 2007, 16). Looking at the card it is hard not to see the enlightened spiritual elite governing the unenlightened and primitive masses. The ideology or ‘message’ embedded in the card is something that should be familiar to any second year sociology student: the card represents a two-class social system, and a not very pretty one at that. The upper class is royal and regal, while the lower class is unevolved, ape-like, and clearly pas- sive. The Golden Dawn card is remarkable not only for the ‘hide in plain sight’ way that elite ideology is presented, but also for the remarkable way the ideology is accepted as part of a package of divine revelation, of spirit expressing itself in the Kingdom. Elites are justified to rule because they have access to the ‘light,’ they are ‘evolved,’ and so on. The rhet- orical turn (reinforced by a visual turn, crucial in pre-literate societies) represented here should be apparent, and a visceral reaction may even accompany our realization that the divine, magical, Egyptian, Vedic wis- dom represented in this card is nothing more than a prettied up version of Catholic doctrine concerning the divine right of kings. Social class, hierarchy, command, control, privilege, and the unequal distribution of power, so typical of the ‘class struggle’ of this world (Marx 1848), is written large on this card.
Another reason that is it not hard to ‘read’ the ideology of Tarot is because, at the beginning of the twentieth century, the ‘secrets’ of eso- teric elitism were fully exposed to the mass consciousness (Decker and Dummett 2002) and subsequently penetrated into, and become a part of, the ideological fabric of this planet. Members of the men’s huts of the time, most notably Crowley and other members the fraternal organiza- tion he founded, made it a point to expose the ‘secret teachings’ to the outside world. A scandal at the time, Crowley irked members of Her- metic Order of Golden Dawn when he self-consciously set himself, and other members of his very own secret club, as the revealers of all the secrets. Crowley created the journal The Equinox, and then subsequently published Golden Dawn secrets and rituals in his open esoteric journal.[6] He sets the agenda in the opening editorial of the publication, though not without first casting standard aspersions on the ‘multitudes’ (i.e., lower classes) of the world.[7]

With the publication of this Review begins a completely new adventure in the history of mankind. Whatever knowledge may previously have been imputed to men, it has always been fenced in with conditions and restric- tions. The time has come to speak plainly, and so far as may be in the language of the multitude...But the Brothers of the A ∴ A ∴ make no mystery; They [sic] give you not only the Text, but the Comment; not only the Comment, but the Diction- ary, the Grammar, and the Alphabet. (Crowley 1909, 1)

The intent of this paper is not to expose in detail the underlying ideology of the Tarot major arcana, that is the task of a subsequent paper entitled The Ideology of Tarot (Sosteric, in progress), but rather to demonstrate that such work is both needed and possible. In other words, this article has tried to establish the need for a sociology of the Western Tarot spe- cifically, and a sociology of the occult more generally. This Sociology of Tarot includes a sociology of how those who practiced Tarot used the decks in ways that related to changing relations of class, discipline, power, and ideology. It appears that Tarot was invented as a deck of play- ing cards, reflecting the life and times of significant Italian families, but became implicated in the double revolutions that collapsed structures of feudal authority, and legitimated new systems of social authority and discipline. The Tarot deck was a useful tool for this purpose because the imagery was already linked to elite practice (having been invented in the courts of Italy), already had suitable iconography (kings, queens, and popes), was plastic and could be ‘imprinted’ with additional symbolism, and eventually became used as an initiatory device in secret societies and new religious sects emerging at this time. Work to establish the oc- cult authority of the deck was accomplished by prominent Freemasons, clerics, and members of the transitioning elite. The net result was a deck of superb ideological brilliance and utility, capable not only of indoc- trinating members of secret organizations, but also of imprinting mass consciousness with elite ideology.
Although one might initially feel that a sociology of the Tarot would only be of historical interest, that is not the case. The movement of Tarot ideology into the mass consciousness, as encouraged by Crowley and his brothers for example, has left an unchallenged (and potentially quite significant) ideological imprint. Coupled with the recent proliferation of superstition, ignorance, and irrationalities of modern society as noted by Bauer (2011), and the uncritical way Tarot aficionados (even academic ones) take up the ideology (e.g. Place 2005), the social impact of Tarot in contemporary society may be taken too lightly. Doering-Manteufell (2011) found a dramatic spread of superstitions that uses modern com- munication technologies as a means to proliferate occult (read ideologic- al) practice. This is particularly evidenced in the proliferation of Tarot decks. Today literally hundreds of Tarot decks are in print, all representing the author’s particular views, but almost all of them echoing iconic Ma- sonic imagery and interpretation (Farley 2009). More than ever, socio- logical analysis in the occult Tarot specifically, or occult phenomenon more generally, seems warranted. Sociological investigation would include analysis of ideology and control that might explore links between the Tarot and the ideological im- portance ofreligion(Weber 2003), or disciplinary control strategies iden- tified by Foucault (1975) and others. There are also dialogic questions about the rhetorical strategies used not only to obscure the true nature of elite ideology embedded in the Tarot system, but also to lend occult and spiritual authority to the Tarot (Fairclough 2001). These strategies have only been touched on in this paper, but other strategies are evident and need to be exposed.[8] Finally, the psychology of the tarot, specifically its use in dramatic ritual and initiation pageantry, and its utility as a device of indoctrination, are also interesting questions worthy of sociological examination.
It is also useful to note that the history of Tarot and the occult are not just class histories, they are histories of patriarchy and racism. As noted earlier, sexism is imprinted on the very structure of men’s huts, and for all the mystical wisdom offered up, the sexism is prominent and often of- fensive, especially in dominant figures like Aleister Crowley [see for ex- ample the opening words of the Crowley editorial in the inaugural edition of Equinox (Crowley 1912)]. Racism also figures in the principal texts of theosophical movement [see Blavatsky 1888; Besant 1907 and 1911), and Besant & Leadbeater (1913)] where doctrines of spiritual progress, reincarnation, and karma are based on racial frameworks and derogatory characterizations of “non-Aryan” racial groups (Staudenmaier 2009, 52). Even contemporary Masons exclude women from consecrations of their lodges. In this context, it is important to point out that in the Masonic tarot, the Fool (the tarot ‘signature’ card representing the subject of the initiatory/evolutionary journey) is inevitably white, male, and young.
Berger (1969) assumed that Western societies would experience decline of spiritual and religious belief, and increased secularization. This paper defends the need for a new sociology of tarot, occult, and ideology, and an open discussion of the significance and relevance of occult knowledge and practices. Note, however, that it is more than just social class, gender, ethnic, or ideological interest that is at stake here. There is a sociological question raised by all this: “Why do spiritual- ity, religion, and the occult continue to hold such traction?” The implicit and probably unspoken (except at closed faculty parties) assumption of those who follow Berger probably invokes stupidity, incredulity, and ir- rationality, but this is hardly an explanation at all. People are not stupid and they do not, in general, believe things for no reason (Sosteric, Under Review). Better causes need to be established. Elites seem to believe in the Tarot because it has been constructed by their members to reflect (and help distribute) an ideology supportive of hierarchy, privilege, and control.
Still others, like psychologists, have been critical of spiritual be- liefs since Freud’s (2012) dismissal of religionas an infantile delusion, yet some adopt the Tarot as a fountain of mystical/archetypal wisdom in pretty much the same way as established by occult elites. There is also a very long history of very smart people being interested in religion, spirituality, and mystical phenomenon (Verselius 2007). William James, father of American psychology, tookreligionand mystical experience seriously not as an example of something else (e.g. as a class opiate, or as providing social solidarity, or as a sacred canopy, or as a stepping stone from our superstitious past into our rational future), but as some- thing worthy of direct and engaged investigation (James 1982). Are these people stupid, irrational, and reactionary as well? Or, moving out of the realm of scholarly inquiry, why does the Tarot remain so popular, or why do occult beliefs in general enjoy ongoing popularity. Can it all be dis- missed as naivety or elite ideology, or is there something else going on with Tarot and religionnot yet identified by sociologists? Hints may be offered here. In my sociology ofreligionclass, for ex- ample, I explore the opportunistic nature ofreligionand spiritual beliefs.
It turns out that when one examines the history ofreligionfrom a trans- disciplinary perspective (Lundskow 2008), religious and spiritual beliefs are, as I argue in the course, opportunistic. That is, it is not just Tarot that becomes a virtual Rorschach suitable for ideological impregnation by whatever ‘special interest’ group happens to come along; rather, spiritu- ality andreligionin general represent themselves as suitable for the pro- jection of a political, economic, and other special interests.religionand spirituality come to express — always and wherever they are found — the social order, environmental realities, and even economic exigencies of a particular society at a particular time. Note however, that elites do not have unilateral control over the consciousness of the masses. Becausereligionis a resource, spirituality is a (arguably poorly) contested realm. It is the case that progressive or reactionary economic, political, and even gender interests may be inscribed into religious texts.
Finally, a third reason for continued belief in the occult, spiritual, mystical, esoteric, mystery traditions may be because they represent real experiences, real revelation, and real gnosis that undermine normal taken-for-granted reality of our regular 3D world (Lynch 1977; Sosteric Under Review). This suggestion may strike readers as scientific heresy, as indeed it is. But the alternative is to dismiss the collective experiences of billions of people throughout history who have believed in mystical realms beyond the mundane, but also the individual experiences of schol- ars who have had some powerful mystical experiences (e.g. Castaneda 1985). I find myself in this group of scholars whose interests were per- haps not initially scholarly, but mystical, and whose mystical experiences “broke open the head” (Pinchbeck 2003) and led them to question the materialist foundation of science. Such experiences are of deep scholarly interest (Forman 1999), and fit very well into the gnostic experiences reported by Western mystics down the ages (Versluis 2002).
Just as many other scholars use experience to develop scholarly insight, my experiences with tarot, mysticism, and gnostic traditions, have lead me to new sociological understandings. This raises scholarly questions, none of which can be served by out-of-hand, anti-scholarly dismissal. Western mystery schools, occult traditions, even established exoteric institutions like the Roman Catholic Church, all justify their positions, their tools, their bibles, their Tarot books, by ascribing them to real mystical, magical, experiences. Christian are told to believe in the bible because it is the word of God, expressed through the mystical rev- elation of the prophets. Buddhists follow Buddhists tracts because they represent the mystical revelation of Buddha. Freemasons and Protestant clerics offer the Tarot as the “bible of bibles” and support its authority in the same way, with claims for its antiquity, and linkages to the mystical experiences of authoritative personages (e.g. Hermes Trismegistus, the Egyptian god Thoth, etc.). This is nothing new. James (1982) said that all religions derive from somebody’s mystical experiences. The point in this paper is simply that gnostic traditions, the words of the mystics, occult ‘wisdom’ traditions, ‘mystical tools’ like the tarot, deserve serious and critical inquiry and analysis as such, and there is good reason to apply sociological analysis here. People who have mystical experiences often impress upon them their social class, gender, ethnic, political, and eco- nomic biases. Nowhere do we find ‘pure’ gnostic truth. Everywhere we find opportunistic imprints on spiritual ‘revelation.’ The problem is, if we dismiss spirituality andreligionas nothing more than ideology, as salve against existential crises, or as infantile fantasy, not only do we miss an arguably valid area of inquiry (spirituality and gnosis), we also leave a spiritual vacuum, an absence of sociologically sophisticated understand- ing, that has profound global consequences. As Butler (2006) notes, the Christian Right has been able to gain ascendency in global politics and culture precisely because the Left has abdicated responsibility for providing such meaning. We sociologists have seen the Wizard of Oz, recognized him as a charlatan, and walked away. We have posted signs on the wall saying caveat emptor, but nobody seems to be reading the signs. Why do people continue to genuflect before the Wizard? There is a powerful need operating, and somebody always seems willing to fill it. The problem is that the people who move in, often do so without the best intentions (they have political, economic, gender and racial agendas), or without a sufficient degree of sociological, psychological, physical, chemical, even historical sophistication. The result is active imposition of ideology in the first case, or naïve adoption and unwitting propagation of ideology in the second. I would suggest a grass roots, sociologically sophisticated, spirituality, needs to be offered.

Trionfi dei Tarocchini
Angelo	Sig.ra N:N:
Mondo	Sig.ra Taruffi da S:Giorgio
Sole	Sig.ra N:N:
Luna	Sig.ra Girolema Righetti, e la Sig.ra Tonelli
Stella	Sig.ra Catterina Tesei
Saetta	Sig.ra N: Moglie del Sig.r Seg.rio Taroni
Diavolo	Sig.ra Catterina Bonifacci
Morte	Sig.ra Taruffi in San Felice
Traditore	Sig.ra Bassi marito, e moglie
Vecchio	Sig.ra Parmeggiani Madre
Ruota	Sig.ra Margarita Piccinini
Forza	Sig.ra Anna Bergonzoni
Giusta	Sig.ra M:a Bonifacci
Quattro Moretti	Tre Parmeggiani, e la Sig.ra Anna Baroni
Bagattino	Sig.ra Angiola Baroni

For someone so sensitive to the meaning and usage of words, the act of renaming is one that would not have been undertaken lightly.
Crowley’s perception of the cultural history of the Tarot is firmly rooted in the occult tradition—i.e., the perennialist notions espoused by eighteenth and nineteenth-century occultists such as Court de Gébelin, Etteilla, Éliphas Lévi, Papus, MacGregor Mathers and A.E. Waite concerning the origins of the tarot. For occultists such as these, the Tarot was a depository of esoteric knowledge, coeval with the Pharaohs and containing the secret wisdom of ancient Egypt. Crowley’s adherence to this theory is nowhere better exemplified than in the sub-title of The Book of Thoth, i.e.: A Short Essay on the Tarot of the Egyptians. However, it is clear that the genesis of the Tarot lies in fifteenth century Italy, the imagery of the trump cards deriving from a ‘common pool of symbolism’ particular to that place and time.8 This is arguably nowhere more visible than in the depiction of the cardinal virtues in the tarot—as is readily apparent by comparing early Tarot decks with the typical contemporary iconographical treatment of the virtues.[9]
This conflict between the actual history of the Tarot and the mythical history espoused by the occultists gives rise to some interesting anomalies. Crowley is a case in point here, bemoaning the decadence that had supposedly crept into the Tarot designs over the ages:

For Crowley, the difference between the extant traditional decks and the original “ur-deck” reflected the accretions of time, in particular the shift from a pagan world view to a Christian one. Indeed, in the ‘Bibliographical Note’ to The Book of Thoth, Crowley notes that ‘[t]he mediaeval packs are hopelessly corrupt, compiled by partisans of existing political systems …’.[11]
Focusing on those Tarot trumps where Crowley departs fully from tradition with regard to names, I demonstrate that a major factor behind this decision was what Crowley perceived as the embedded “Christianisation” of the cards in question—a process of which Crowley, thanks to his extensive researches both into the origins of words and of religions, would have been fully cognisant. The irony of this, of course, is that Crowley, whilst indeed correct in his thesis that the existing decks were ‘compiled by partisans of existing political systems’, arising as they did out of the socio-cultural framework of the Renaissance, a period in which the power of the Catholic Church was arguably at its zenith, was mistaken in seeing therein evidence of the corruption or elision of some ancient Egyptian occult wisdom in the iconography and nomenclature of the cards.
On the one hand, Crowley’s endeavour to root out Christian vestiges was in keeping with the steady adoption of the Tarot by occultists, which had begun in the eighteenth century with the first writers to publicly espouse an occult theory of the tarot, namely Court de Gébelin and Etteilla, and had continued through the nineteenth and into the twentieth century. By the time Crowley came to write his work on the Tarot in the 1940s, this process was almost complete, with key trumps restyled in a more esoteric manner, both with regard to the actual titles, as well as the iconographical treatment; notably the “Pope” and “Popess” had been recast as “The Hierophant” and “The High Priestess” respectively, and the “Juggler” or “Mountebank” (“Le Bateleur”) had become “The Magician”.[12]
It is important to note, however, that the changes made by these earlier occultists were not necessarily driven by some sort of anti-Christian agenda.[13] Rather, they were arguably intended to remove the temporal anchor from the cards that so obviously betrayed them as being the products of a (relatively recent) Christian cultural milieu. In this way, claims for an ancient provenance for the tarot—a pre-requisite for the argument that the deck was a receptacle of ancient wisdom—could more easily be made. The fact that the trumps styled on the cardinal virtues had survived pretty much intact by the time Crowley came to write his work on the Tarot arguably says much about the inherently Christian bias of “mainstream occultism” until that point.
But the cardinal virtues could have no place in the New Aeon.[14] Whilst Crowley’s renaming of trumps viii, xi, xiv, and xx brought to a logical conclusion the process of adoption of the Tarot by occultists that had been ongoing since the mid-eighteenth century, his agenda was far more ambitious: his dual purpose was to expunge Christian values from the deck and, in what constitutes a deliberate act of “cultural reprogramming”, encode therein the key tenets of Thelema, the religio-magical philosophy of the New Aeon.
In what follows, I briefly discuss the New Aeon and how the cardinal virtues came to be synonymous with Christian values, before finally turning to the renaming and restyling of the cards themselves.

The Book of Thoth was the last major work on magic Crowley published during his lifetime.[15] It is clear that he regarded this book and the associated paintings as a work of the utmost significance for the new Aeon of Horus.[16] Writing to a Mr Pearson of the Sun Engraving Co., the photoengraver responsible for transposing Frieda Lady Harris’ original watercolours into engravings for publication, Crowley is at pains to explain his motive in seeking to limit Harris’ involvement in the practicalities of getting the book published:

He considered this book the summation of his life’s work, a means to ‘reproduce the whole of his Magical Mind pictorially on the skeleton of the ancient Qabalistic tradition.’18 No doubt to the amazement of certain onlookers, given his notoriety for excess of all kinds, Crowley was rapidly approaching the proverbial “three score and ten” during the five years it took to complete the work. Any natural anxiety in this regard was doubtless heightened by the bombs falling onLondonduring the Blitz of 1940–1941. This likely led him to view the project as his final chance to set down for posterity the magical philosophy underlying the New Aeon whose arrival had been proclaimed in The Book of the Law.
Crowley was at pains to emphasise the originality of his work on the tarot. This is stated in no uncertain terms in a prospectus for The Book of Thoth:

The ‘brilliant revaluation’ that Crowley highlights is inextricably linked to his reception of The Book of the Law in 1904 and the impact this had upon the ‘Magical Mind’ of the Prophet of the New Aeon: ‘This new Tarot may therefore be regarded as a series of illustrations to the Book of the Law; the doctrine of that Book is everywhere implicit.’[20]
A striking feature of ‘The New Comment’ to The Book of the Law is the way in which Crowley repeatedly stresses how the magical philosophy underlying the system of the New Aeon, Thelema, is in accordance with the (contemporary) scientific viewpoint. For example, in the commentary to the very first verse of the book (i:1), Crowley writes ‘The theogony of our Law is entirely scientific. Nuit is Matter, Hadit is Motion, in their full physical sense.’[21] Similarly, in the commentary to i:56:

Given the above statement, it should come as no surprise that Crowley felt impelled to change the titles of a number of the cards—the traditional decks, as far as he was concerned, being based on fundamentally flawed assumptions.

The moral qualities that came to be known as the “Cardinal Virtues”—Prudence, Fortitude, Temperance, and Justice—go back to the classical world, extending through Cicero (106–43bce) to Plato (428–348bce), who, in The Republic, describes the ideal city as ‘wise, brave, sober and just.’[23] Although we find these qualities grouped together under the heading ‘virtues’ in the Bible, it is only with the early Church Fathers that they become a popular topic of discussion.[24]
Amongst the first to discuss them in a purely Christian context is Clement of Alexandria (c. 150–c. 215ce) who writes in his Paedagogus ‘… man’s perfection is justice and temperance and courage and piety [prudence].’[25] But it is with Ambrose of Milan (c. 340–397ce) that these moral qualities are named “Cardinal Virtues”, with the term virtutes cardinales (“cardinal virtues”) appearing in Ambrose’s (first) funeral oration for his brother, Satyrus.[26] Ambrose discusses these elsewhere in his writings. For example, in his commentary on Genesis, De paradiso (c. 375ce), the four cardinal virtues are equated to the four rivers which flow through Eden and in the sermon De Isaac vel anima they are likened to the four horses that drive the “chariot of the soul”.[27] In De officiis ministrorum, Ambrose writes at length how the cardinal virtues were evidenced in the lives and deeds of Old Testament figures such as David, Abraham, Job, and Solomon.[28] Where figures from the classical world are mentioned, their contribution to the knowledge and practice of the virtues is downplayed versus that made by biblical figures.[29] In so doing, Ambrose effectively reserves the cardinal virtues for Christians, incorporating them into the broader concept of Christian duty in an act of appropriation that arguably marks the beginning of the “Christianisation” of the cardinal virtues.[30]
This process of Christianisation continues with Jerome (c. 347–419ce) for whom ‘unbelievers’ (i.e. non-Christians) are necessarily precluded from exercising the four virtues.[31] In a letter to a cleric, Jerome, echoing Ambrose’s chariot metaphor, enjoins him to make the cardinal virtues ‘a four-horse team’ that will bear him as ‘Christ’s charioteer’ to his goal.[32] In a similar vein, Augustine of Hippo (354–430ce) writes how the four cardinal virtues are dependent on the ‘perfect love of God’ and Julian Pomerius (fl. late 5th century ce) describes how the virtues are divine gifts and, as such, are only available to those who believe in God, with those who do not incapable of possessing them.[33]
This idea that the virtues are effectively dependent on Christian faith is also made explicit by Gregory the Great (c. 540–604ce). In Moralia in Job, Gregory identifies the four cardinal virtues with the four corners of the house where Job’s sons and daughters were feasting, as well as with the four rivers of Paradise as per Ambrose.[34] He maintains that the cardinal virtues are a ‘gift of the [Holy] Spirit’ and so, by definition, are only accessible to Christian believers. [35]
Subsequent monastic writers, e.g. Bede (c. 673–735ce), Alcuin (c. 735– 804ce), Hrabanus Maurus (c. 780–856ce), and Peter Damian (c. 1007–1072ce), firmly enmesh the virtues with faith and present them as a moral code to be adopted by believers seeking salvation.[36] For example, Peter Damian, writing of the hour of Vespers, comments on how the tradition in monastic communities of celebrating an office of four psalms (in contrast to the five psalms followed by clerics) is related to the four cardinal virtues.[37]

Crowley is scathing of the sort of moral attributes that had come to be regarded as virtuous. In his commentary to Chapter 60, ‘The Wound of Amfortas’ in The Book of Lies, he writes that ‘The word virtus means “the quality of manhood”. Modern “virtue” is the negation of all such qualities’.[38] This idea occurs elsewhere in Crowley’s writings, notably in Little Essays Towards Truth where he writes ‘Let first be noted this word Virtue, the quality of Manhood, integral with Virility’.[39] And, of course, one of Crowley’s favourite soubriquets, ‘The Beast’, is, as per Revelation 13:18, ‘the number of a man’.[40] Hence for Crowley, this concept of ‘Manhood’ carries an implicit challenge to the prevailing system of ethics.
In an essay titled ‘Liber dcccxxxvii, The Law of Liberty’ which appeared in The Equinox Vol iii, No 1 (1919), Crowley contrasts the message of Nuit in the first chapter of The Book of the Law with the prevailing morality of the times: Is not this better than the death-in-life of the slaves of the Slave-Gods, as they go oppressed by consciousness of “sin”, wearily seeking or simulating wearisome and tedious “virtues”?[41] For Crowley, the very concept of virtue has been usurped and distorted by Christianity. Doubtless, his childhood experiences growing up amongst the Plymouth Brethren form the bedrock for what in mature years became a considered sidered philosophy of ethics based on The Book of the Law.[42] For example, in his essay ‘Liber ccc, Khabs am Pekht’ (1919) Crowley obliquely refers to these experiences as the origin of his desire to overturn Old Aeon value systems: ‘The misery caused to children by the operation of the law of the slave-gods was, one may say, the primum mobile of Our first aspiration to overthrow the Old Law’.[43]
In Magick Without Tears, Chapter lxx, ‘Morality (1)’, Crowley explains how current conceptions of morality are actually founded on a series of vices for the purposes of social control: "This is the code of the “Slave-Gods”, very thoroughly analysed, pulverized, and de-loused by Nietzsche in Antichrist. It consists of all the meanest vices, especially envy, cowardice, cruelty and greed: all based on overmastering Fear. Fear of the nightmare type. With this incubus, the rich and powerful have devised an engine to keep down the poor and the weak."[44] And building on the injunction of The Book of the Law i:41, ‘The word of Sin is Restriction’, Crowley is at pains to stress that repression—‘Restriction’—of the sex instinct results in psychosis in the individual and disorder in society:

It is pertinent to note here that Crowley did on occasion (particularly in his earlier writings) draw a distinction between Christianity as an institution, the source of a dubious code of ethics he set out to attack, and the figure of Jesus Christ. For example, in an essay on Christianity in The World’s Tragedy (1910) he writes how he holds ‘the legendary Jesus in no wise responsible for the trouble’ before going on to vow to destroy the deity worshipped by Christians as well as Christianity itself.[46] However, this subtlety of thought tended to be the exceptation tion rather than the rule, and it is clear that Crowley’s determination to destroy Christianity became increasingly all-encompassing.[47]

Augustine, paraphrasing Cicero, defines Justice as ‘a habit of the soul which, with proper regard for the common welfare, renders to each man his own desert’.[48] The medieval theologians linked it to ideas of mercy, compassion and charity. Writing to Simplicianus, Ambrose notes ‘Whoever can say: “I was an eye to the blind, a foot to the lame, the father of the poor”, his limbs are limbs of justice.’[49]
The concepts of mercy, compassion, and charity are roundly rejected by Crowley. In Magick Without Tears, writing of “Selfishness”—the antithesis of these concepts—he comments how ‘in a way the whole structure of the ethics of Thelema is founded upon it’.[50] He contrasts this with what he terms ‘unselfishness’, linking the latter to democracy, on which he scathingly comments, ‘this imbecile and nauseating cult of weakness—democracy some call it—is utterly false and vile’.[51]
A similarly dim view of democracy is to be found in an essay titled ‘Liber cxciv, Intimation with Reference to the Constitution of the Order’.[52] Here, Crowley describes how the ‘principle of popular election is a fatal folly’, linking core Christian virtues to the idea of democracy and echoing Nietzsche’s observation that ‘… the democratic movement inherits the Christian’.[53]

Since Thelema is based on ‘absolute science and philosophy’, it follows that ‘relative’ constructs such as Justice have no place:[54]

This card in the old pack was called Justice. This word has none but a purely human and therefore relative sense; so it is not to be considered as one of the facts of Nature. Nature is not just, according to any theological or ethical idea; but Nature is exact.[55]

Crowley was at pains to emphasise how magic works in accordance with the laws of Nature, whose unfailing exactitude underlies the scientific conception of the physical world:

For true Magick means “to employ one set of natural forces at a mechanical advantage as against another set”—I quote, as closely as memory serves, Thomas Henry Huxley, when he explains that when he lifts his water-jug—or his elbow—he does not “defy the Law of Gravitation.” On the contrary, he uses that Law; its equations form part of the system by which he lifts the jug without spilling the water.[56]

The adoption of a scientific approach in the practice of magic is a constant in Crowley’s work, as is apparent from the strapline of his semi-annual Journal, The Equinox—‘The Method of Science, the Aim of Religion’[57]—or his insistence that the practitioner of magic should meticulously write down the results of their practices in a magical diary in the same way as a scientist would document an experiment.[58]
Further, Crowley introduces the idea of fictional representation, identifying the female figure wearing a domino mask as the Commedia dell’arte figure, Harlequin.59 His new treatment thereby explicitly evokes the artificial by recasting the central figure as a character from theatre. In this way, Crowley arguably challenges our concept of reality by positing that nature shares some of the characteristics of art. He describes the figure as ‘the ultimate illusion which is manifestation’, space and time, which form the backdrop to her dance, being a ‘phantom show’:[60] "The Universe is a Puppet-Play for the amusement of Nuit and Hadit in their Nuptials; a very Midsummer Night’s Dream … for we understand the Truth of Things, how all is a dance of Ecstasy."[61]
Such a conception of reality is essential to Crowley’s definition of Magic(k) as the ‘Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will’.[62] If the natural world partakes of the nature of illusion, then the magician, whilst acting in conformity with natural laws, can manipulate it to achieve the desired change.

The Tarot trump numbered xi in Crowley’s deck is known as “Strength” or “Fortitude” in traditional decks, the latter often interpreted with respect to withstanding the sins of the flesh.[63] In De paradiso Ambrose writes of Fortitude enabling the Christian to ‘hold in check the guileful vices of the body’.[64] It was in this sense that Fortitude was frequently paired withTemperance in the battle against worldly desires.[65]

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Although commonly associated with sex, Lust more generally denotes pleasure and desire.[66] Crowley writes of his renaming of the card: ‘Lust implies not only strength, but the joy of strength exercised. It is vigour, and the rapture of vigour’.[67]
This is a striking juxtaposition of the ideas of strength as Fortitude and strength as Lust, where the latter encompasses all things of the senses; to be strong is to explore the world of phenomena as the will dictates. In his comment on the above verse, Crowley writes ‘To “lust” is to grasp continually at fresh aspects of Nuit’.[68]
In the metaphysics of Crowley’s religio-magical system of Thelema, phenomena, or “point-events” as Crowley terms them, are stripped of simplistic value judgments of what is good or bad: the universe is essentially perfect and phenomena are equally valued as manifestations of the union of the feminine principle, Nuit and the masculine principal, Hadit.[69]The iconography of the cardinal virtue of Fortitude is often depicted as a woman struggling with a lion, a styling that found its way into the Tarot at an early stage and continued to feature in later decks.[70]

In the re-naming of the trump numbered xiv, Crowley rejects the last of the three cardinal virtues that had found their way into the tarot.Temperance is frequently equated with the idea of moderation more generally.78 For certain theologians such as Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335ce–c. 395ce), the very definition of evil is encapsulated in the turning to extremes, in contrast to virtue which is to be found lying in the mean.[79]

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By the nineteenth century, the word “temperance” had also acquired a further meaning, that of moderation or complete abstinence from the consumption of alcohol.[81] In an essay titled ‘Liber cl, De Lege Libellum’ he writes:

The sot drinks, and is drunken: the coward drinks not, and shivers: the wise man, brave and free, drinks, and gives glory to the Most High God.[82] In December 1939, three months after the start of the second world war, Crowley published Temperance: A Tract for the Times, a collection of rowdy drinking songs designed to look like the wine-list of an expensive restaurant.[83] But the publication had a serious intent, namely of combating another case of the infiltration of the secular sphere by a Christian ethics based on restriction and denial.[84]

Words of the same value are deemed to have a hidden correspondence to one another. Using gematria, the word “Art” sums to 210, as follows: A = Aleph = 1; R = Resh = 200; T = Teth = 9; and 1+200+9 = 210. I believe it is no coincidence that the title of the card is numerically equivalent to the word “Nox”: N = Nun = 50; O = Ayin = 70; X = Tzaddi = 90; and 50+70+90 = 210. In his commentary to the first chapter of The Book of Lies, Crowley writes ‘Nox adds to 210, which symbolises the reduction of duality to unity, and thence to negativity, and is thus a hieroglyph of the Great Work.’[85]
Traditionally, the cardinal virtue of Temperance is depicted as a woman holding two jars, one containing water, the other wine, representing the dilution of wine with water, a symbol of moderation. Crowley neatly reverses the image: rather than two jars there is one cauldron; and although there is one figure on Crowley’s card, it is clearly an androgyne formed of two parts, representing the ‘Consummation of the Royal Marriage’.[86] The card hence depicts the mystical marriage, or hieros gamos, a classical alchemical trope denoting the union of opposites, in both image and name—opposites (2) unite (1) and cancel out to zero (0)

The renaming of trump xx is intimately connected with Crowley’s programme of systematic excision of Christian ethics from his Tarot deck for the New Aeon. Traditionally, this card depicts the Last Judgement when, according to Christian belief, the wicked shall be punished and the virtuous rewarded.[89] This was classically used by theologians as a means of exhorting Christians to virtuous behaviour. For example, in a letter addressed to a ‘fallen Virgin’, Basil of Caesarea (c. 329–379) exhorts her to mend her ways, reminding her of the day of Judgement

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The shift from a geocentric to a heliocentric view also entails a new conception of the fate of the individual. Death does not mean an end to existence, just as nightfall does not herald the demise of the sun.[92] Crowley’s re-naming of the card, “The Aeon”, reflects his conviction that the reception of The Book of the Law in 1904 signified the advent of the New Aeon of which he was to be the Prophet. Consequently, rather than the traditional image of figures rising from yawning graves at the peal of the last trumpet, the design of the card is based on the Stélé of Revealing, the ancient Egyptian artefact that Crowley’s wife, Rose, apparently pointed out when describing to Crowley the identity of the entity that had contacted her, initiating the events that led to the reception of The Book of the Law.
The significance of the Stélé of Revealing as the supreme glyph of the Aeon of Horus is emphasized in the Book of the Law iii:10 where it is described as ‘your Kiblah’, a reference to Islam where the kiblah or qibla marks the direction of Mecca towards which a Muslim turns to pray. Indeed, in Crowley’s The Gnostic Mass, the rubric states that a reproduction of the Stélé should be placed on the top of the ‘super-altar’, with the latter positioned above the ‘High Altar’ placed in the East of the Temple, ‘that is, in the direction of Boleskine, which is situated on the South-Eastern shore of Loch Ness in Scotland, two miles east of Foyers …’95 By ‘East’, Crowley clarifies that his words do not refer to the compass direction, implying instead that they should be taken metaphorically with regard to the idea of “orientation”.This angel is no other than Aiwass, the ‘praeterhuman’ intelligence that communicated The Book of The Law, whom Crowley also viewed as his own Holy Guardian Angel.[98]