In the burgeoning field of comparative religion and anthropology in 1889, the publication of “Phallism: A Description of the Worship of Lingam-Yoni: In Various Parts of the World and in Different Ages with an Account of Ancient and Modern Crosses Particularly of the Crux Ansata (or handled cross) and Other Symbols Connected With The Mysteries of Sex Worship” offered a unique and, for its time, bold exploration of deeply ingrained human iconography. Penned by an anonymous author, this work dared to delve into the pervasive presence of phallic and yonic symbols across diverse cultures and historical epochs, seeking to unravel the threads connecting apparently distinct religious and symbolic traditions.
The book’s central thesis, as suggested by its comprehensive title, posited that the reverence for the lingam (representing the male generative organ) and yoni (representing the female generative organ) was not an isolated phenomenon confined to specific Eastern traditions, but rather a global and ancient undercurrent in human spiritual thought. The anonymous author meticulously surveyed evidence from a wide array of geographical locations and historical periods, presenting a compelling argument for the universality of this symbolism. From the Indian subcontinent, where the lingam-yoni is a well-established object of devotion, the narrative journeyed outwards, hinting at parallel expressions in other ancient civilisations.
What sets “Phallism” apart, and indeed makes it an intriguing artifact of Victorian scholarship, is its ambitious attempt to link these seemingly disparate forms of veneration with other potent symbols, most notably the cross. The inclusion of the “Crux Ansata,” or handled cross, a prominent symbol in ancient Egyptian iconography, is particularly noteworthy. The author suggests a profound, albeit often veiled, connection between the generative forces embodied in the lingam-yoni and the symbolic meanings ascribed to the cross in various cultures. This linkage, while potentially contentious to modern sensibilities, reflects a genuine scholarly endeavour to find unifying principles in the vast tapestry of human religious expression.
The work does not shy away from the “mysteries of sex worship” that its title proclaims. However, it approaches the subject with a degree of academic detachment, aiming to describe and interpret rather than to sensationalise. The context of 1889 is crucial here. This was an era of great intellectual curiosity, where the boundaries of acceptable discourse were being pushed, and the exploration of “primitive” or “exotic” religions was a significant area of academic interest. While contemporary readers might find the language and interpretations of the era to be rooted in certain biases, the author’s dedication to presenting a wide range of ethnographic and archaeological evidence is undeniable.
“Phallism” stands as a testament to a particular moment in intellectual history, where scholars grappled with the fundamental questions of human belief and symbolism. It offered a perspective that challenged prevailing notions by suggesting that even the most intimate aspects of human experience – creation and procreation – held a profound and widespread significance in the development of religious thought and symbolic language. By drawing connections between the lingam-yoni and the cross, the author invited readers to consider the enduring power of archetypal forms to represent fundamental truths about existence, continuity, and the cycle of life itself, revealing a shared human impulse to understand and honour the forces of creation.
—
Phallism, available to read on the Internet Archive.
Worldwide Temple of Aurora 