Aleister Crowley: “Hierophant” or “Devil?”
I’m now reading Alejandro Jodorowsky’s commentary in The Way of Tarot about the number Five and its “decimal equivalency” in the Pope (Hierophant) and the Devil. One passage struck me as an accidental portrait of Aleister Crowley as an exemplar of what Jodo is talking about:
“The Five of Wands represents two temptations: sublimating the sexual force through meditation techniques, and, thanks to them, opening the door of spiritual illumination; or else by a more profound exploration of the path of desire that does not neglect investigation of any impulse.” Also later on, “In the Five of Wands we risk following the path of the Pope, one that could lead us to sexual impotence through excessive mysticism, or that of the Devil, which will wear us out with depravity.”
I don’t think there is any doubt that Crowley’s well-known reputation as a libertine (at least for as long as he was able to afford indulging his appetites) places him firmly in the camp of the Devil (the esoteric Luciferian archetype of passion and persuasion, not the Christian caricature of a devious and diabolical “Satan” that Crowley summarily dismissed when he was accused of Satanism: “To be a Satanist one must first believe in Satan”), but it seems to me that his stated goal was always the type of sublimation symbolized by the Hierophant, particularly in his practice of Tantric yoga and his “method of science, aim of religion” pursuits. At any rate, if the biographical record is to be trusted, he certainly didn’t “neglect investigation of any impulse” and there is no evidence of him being “worn out with depravity,” which he would not have acknowledged as a demonizing stigma anyway.
I’ve foraged extensively in Crowley’s published work over the years and have come away with an admiration for his intellectual prowess and erudition, but also an uneasiness about his ethical and social standards. By all accounts he was “not a very nice man” (and I’m sure he didn’t care whether anyone thought so). There is a tremendous amount of ad hominem invective against Crowley by those who haven’t bothered (or who don’t have the mental horsepower) to penetrate deeply into his thinking, but I believe it’s critical to separate his allegedly unpleasant (and fundamentally amoral) personality from the output of his fertile and omnivorous occult imagination.
My impressions are bounded by two of his most influential works: one is the transcript of his 1904 “Cairo Working” documented in The Book of the Law, the seminal discourse underlying the religion of Thelema, and the other is the exhaustive study of the tarot captured in The Book of Thoth. (For completeness, I should add portions of The Vision and the Voice, his short essays on yoga and “truth” and his poetry — particularly “One Star in Sight” — to my personal list of emblematic writing). The Book of Thoth has been my touchstone for the practice of tarot since 1972 and I’m thoroughly versed in its intricacies (or at least in those aspects that don’t require a lifetime of study to understand).
The Book of the Law is another matter; my take is that it includes half-a-dozen nuggets of pure metaphysical brilliance, while the rest is mostly euphoric, faux-Egyptian window-dressing that adds little to the volume’s impact beyond being formidably (and often tiresomely) exalted in tone. But the thing that stands out is the (putting it mildly) “uncharitable” attitude toward the “common herd” of humanity (attributed to the spirit Aiwass but sounding more like Aleister to me), however legitimate that perspective may be from an abstract philosophical standpoint (I like to say that we’re not nearly as evolved a species as we like to think we are). In places it is hatefully vicious in its diatribe, even though it’s theoretically possible to read between the lines to get at Crowley’s intent if one cares to try, something I’ve attempted with uneven results. My own thoughts in this direction are that “I’m a student of human nature, so of course I’m a cynic” but, unlike Aiwass, I’m willing to give anyone at least one chance before banishing them as unworthy of my time. (Nobody gets Monty Python’s litany of “last chances” from the Spanish Inquisition sketch.)
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on December 24, 2022.
