Symbolomania – The obsession with symbolism over reality

By all means, accuse me of inventing too many words with the suffix ‘-mania’, but I do find it to be infinitely useful.

The year is 2019. The month is May. Fans of fantasy all around the world gather to watch the final episode of Game of Thrones.

Daenerys Targaryen has, inexplicably, gone mad. Jon Snow decides to kill her. Drogon, her dragon, after seeing this, decides to attack … the Iron Throne.

It makes no sense. Dragons in this world, while unable to speak or communicate telepathically as they can in some other fantasy worlds, are supposedly ferociously intelligent. There is no way that Drogon doesn’t know that it was Jon Snow who killed Daenerys. Dragons are also vicious, and rather indifferent to humans other than the ones they are bound to in some way. Drogon would kill Jon Snow. That would make sense.

But instead the dragon attacks … the chair. Why? It’s a chair. What does it mean to a dragon? Unless of course, Drogon somehow knows what the chair symbolises – the desire for power, and all the infighting it causes. Drogon, in this moment, gains a meta-level understanding of the world he’s in. He momentarily becomes the audience, and that’s why he attacks the symbol and impetus of the show.

For a show that is supposed to be realist, this is ridiculous. It only happens because the writers think it’s profound, and that profundity takes precedence over physical and logical realism. It is one of the many reasons why the show is considered a car crash, and why people hardly ever talk about it now, despite it being one of the most popular shows in the world for about a decade.

In the subsequent years, I have seen this obsession with symbols many other times. I have seen people be obsessed with the symbolism of something – what they think it means – regardless of the actual logical, physical, or logistical consequences of something, regardless of reality.

I won’t enumerate all of the examples, as that would make this post unbearably long, but I will focus on one: royalty.

I am a royalist. It’s actually one of the few ‘-ist’ words I will actually apply to myself. I’ll save a full explanation of why I’m a royalist for another post, but it’s worth saying that being a royalist does not mean that you support or are in favour of every single thing every single member of the royal family does all the time. It means you are in favour of the concept of royalty.

In any discussion on royalty, one of the arguments against it you’ll hear quite often and quite early on is ‘I don’t think anyone should be considered “better” than anyone else.’ – in other words, they see the meaning of ‘royalty’ as being that some people in society should be higher up, higher in status, more important, intrinsically more moral people – better.

It’s a weird argument, because I don’t think anyone who is a royalist today actually believes that members of the royal family are better, more worthy, than the rest of us. I think royalists just see the royal family as inheritors of an ancient tradition who have a life-long duty to preserve a substantial proportion of our cultural heritage. That does not make them better, or more worthy. They are not necessarily more moral people, nor should they escape justice when justice is needed. Now sure, we should expect higher standards of them than we do of most people, since they are the inheritors of this legacy, and the performers of its rituals, but this does not mean they are necessarily better.

I think the people who see royalty as some kind of status of intrinsic superiority are obsessed with what they believe the symbolism of royalty is rather than the practical, real effects that we see in society as a result of them (or even, indeed, a truer, actual symbolism, rather than a false interpretation). In that sense they are the same as the writers of Game of Thrones (and the very small number of people who actually liked that final episode).

So I find I need a word to describe this phenomenon. I choose symbolomania – the obsession with symbols or symbolism – usually a perceived symbolism – over reality or over a more logical understanding of something.

Why I’m going back to B.C. / A.D.

When I first found out about B.C.E. / C.E. – standing for ‘Before the Common Era’ and ‘Common Era’ – which I think was towards the end of primary school or sometime during secondary school, I immediately found them compelling. I’d say for most of the time between 2006 and 2023, I used B.C.E. / C.E. exclusively instead of B.C. / A.D.. But now I’m going back.

You have to remember that Christianity in England was different in the late 90s and early 2000s. Nowadays, Christianity is absent from most parts of English life (if you’re an atheist like me) – a result, in part, of New Atheism (of which I was a small part). But 20-25 years ago it was much more present. More people were Christian, and they were more vocal about it – more willing to mention it in casual conversation; more willing to make their allegiance to it known.

I was an atheist from a very early age – possibly six, seven, eight years old. It was very obvious to me, early on, that there was no particular reason to believe in the existence of the Christian god over, say, the Greek gods. I recognised it straight away as mythology.

I also have a rebellious streak, and a great disdain for condescension and that kind of ‘kid-talk’ voice that bad primary school teachers do. The Christians I encountered in the late 90s and early 2000s were extremely condescending, and also quite bossy and expectant. So I found Christianity to not only be incorrect, but also detestable.

This is why I liked B.C.E. / C.E.. As an atheist, it seemed nonsensical to write an abbreviation meaning ‘Before Christ’ when I don’t believe that Jesus of Nazareth was Christ (i.e., the son of a god), or to write an abbreviation of ‘Anno Domini’, meaning ‘in the year of our Lord’, when I don’t believe that Jesus was or is Lord. I also disliked that our year-numbering system was connected to – what I saw as – a very annoying religion filled with quite annoying people.

B.C.E. / C.E., on the other hand, seemed perfectly clear and neutral – abstract even. ‘The Common Era’ – a term that seemed to make sense given that people right across the world used this numbering system – it really was the common era. I was also drawn to the symmetry of the abbreviations – both containing ‘C.E.’. It seems elegant. That’s the physicist / programmer in me – we are drawn to symmetry and the simplification it brings.

So for many years I consistently used B.C.E. / C.E. every time I needed to write it. But now I’m changing back.

There are several reasons for this. Primary among them is that I abhor the obscuration of history and the loss of tradition. I have always abhorred these things – from a very young age. This isn’t a new trait. (It is something that has long set me apart from a lot of the people on the political left, who generally see no value in tradition – be it national tradition or even local or personal tradition.) And the reality is, the B.C.E. / C.E. system uses the same numbers as the B.C. / A.D. system – numbers which, for centuries, were used to denote how many years had passed since the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. (Whether or not they are accurate is a different matter – that is the meaning they had for centuries.) If any young person, new to all of this, were to ask ‘Why are the year numbers the numbers that they are? Why is the current year 2024 and not 3748?’, you would have to explain that they are based on the number of years thought to have passed since the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. So changing the words doesn’t actually remove the meaning at all – the meaning is still there. All changing the words does is try to obscure the origin of the system – it just tries to obscure a historical fact. And I don’t like that.

Also, as time has gone on, I have gotten a greater and greater adoration for old things. I used to hate old buildings – including churches. They always stank of old building – and it’s quite an oppressive smell. This was true of churches, but also think of old pavilions on village cricket greens or football fields, or municipal libraries built in the 70s and fitted with scratchy, grey carpet tiles. Somehow they all smelled the same – of old. And they were cold – both in temperature and in lighting. I was thoroughly a modernist in this regard – I like super-modern buildings made out of shiny steel and huge glass windows.

But this was before I had really encountered the horrors of brutalism. Brutalism will make you rethink your entire attitude to modern buildings. And really, even the things that aren’t brutalist that have been built over the last 50-70 years or so are also, often, just horrid. They are ugly, stale, corporate, and bureaucratic.

Nowadays, when I go to a new town or city, the place I want to visit is the cathedral or the biggest church. They are by far the nicest-looking buildings, and the ones with the most history. I love wandering through the parts of them where all of the in-church graves and memorials are, and reading things that were carved into the wall hundreds of years ago. (It’s why Westminster Abbey is so much fun – I’d recommend to everyone to go there.)

I adore the things that have lasted for centuries – buildings, statues, artwork, and also conventions, such as B.C. / A.D.. These things connect you to the past – a past, and a society, in which all of your ancestors lived. By writing B.C. / A.D., you are participating in a system that thousands upon thousands of people have used before you. By using it, you are joining them in upholding an ancient tradition. You are passing on what was passed down to you.

And in the end, the literal meaning doesn’t really matter to me. Simply writing B.C. / A.D. – or even the full wording – has no chance of changing my mind about the existence of a supernatural being. Atheism (for me, at least) is not so flimsy.

(As an aside, I did previously wonder whether there was a technical reason to switch to B.C.E. / C.E. – that being the ‘blip’ caused by the switch between Old Style and New Style dates resulting from the change from the Julian Calendar to the Gregorian Calendar. The B.C. / A.D. system, being defined from a time 2024 years ago, could be used to refer to either an Old Style or a New Style date. The B.C.E. / C.E. system – I thought – was defined from now backwards, and thus could only ever refer to a New Style date. This would have made the Common Era system more mathematically rigorous. However, I later found that this wasn’t true – B.C.E. / C.E. is just a wholesale swap-out for B.C. / A.D., with no mathematical fix implied. What rubbish. If you’re going to make the change, at least fix the mathematics of it.)

B.C.E. / C.E. are cold – devoid of all meaning and richness. They are dreary – the kind of dreariness exhibited by brown glass windows, balding civil servants, and – worst of all places – business parks (a kind of dreariness that women in HR dream of inflicting upon their prisoner-employees).

So I’m going back to B.C. / A.D.. In fact I might quite often write out the full thing: before Christ and anno Domini. In fact in fact, I might go as far as to write out their full Latin and longer variants: ante Christum natum and anno Domini nostri Jesu Christi. After all, I do enjoy writing conventions that seem unusually lengthy and detailed.

A New Year’s Day Tradition

Over the last five years or so I have gradually developed a number of my own traditions around Yule and the new year. One of these is that on New Year’s Day I try to do lots of the activities that I want to do throughout the year. If I want to do lots of writing that year, then I do some writing on New Year’s Day. If I want to make lots of videos for my YouTube channel that year, then I do something related to making videos on New Year’s Day (it doesn’t have to be actually recording a video – I could just do something that’s useful generally, like learning more about how to light videos).

Now this isn’t about New Year’s resolutions – I don’t do New Year’s resolutions (because I think if a resolution is worth making then it’s worth making at whatever time of year you happen to think about it). This tradition isn’t about getting a head-start on New Year’s resolutions. Instead it’s just about having a good start to the year. If I want to do lots of writing in a given year, then if I do lots of writing on the first day of the year, by the end of the first day the year’s going very well – 100% of it was spent doing the things that I wanted to do.

This tradition is about making the first day of the year the example day for the rest of the year. If all the days can be like the first day, then it will be a good year. My aim on this New Year’s Day is to do a lot of reading, and maybe go through a lot of my old writing notes and scan in anything that only exists in paper form.