I think I was somewhat unfair to Aziraphale and Crowley (but especially to Aziraphale).
Aziraphale always has been a character built to act and intervene in world. The first thing he says as an angel concerns the Earth and humans:
Aziraphale: âyou've heard of Earth? Blue green planet. It'll be over there somewhere when they roll out that quadrant. Now that's where the people that we're currently designing are going to be. I've seen the plans. We're going to start out with a breeding pair, and then pretty soon there'll be oodles of themâ.
He is the one appointed to guard Eden, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, that relinquishes his flaming sword because he believes it would be of great value to Eve and Adam in that moment; he does it despite fearing it might not be the "right" thing to do, willing to risk potential punishment simply to do what he believed was correct:
Aziraphale: "I gave it away. (âŚ)"Well, I had to," said the angel, rubbing his hands distractedly. "They looked so cold, poor things, and she's expecting already, and what with the vicious animals out there and the storm coming up I thought, well, where's the harm, so I just said, look, if you come back there's going to be an almighty row, but you might be needing this sword, so here it is, don't bother to thank me, just do everyone a big favor and don't let the sun go down on you here."
For a being created to love all Godâs creatures, as he taught Warlock to "have love and reverence for all living things", imagine how devastating it must have been to even entertain the idea that God might not love They creation and creatures!
How must he have felt about the Flood, or Sodom and Gomorrah? How did he react to the wager involving Job? Aziraphale is someone who fundamentally needs to believe that punishment befalls only those who have done something wrong; believe otherwise would mean accepting that God is a narcissist or a psychopath, punishing not because it is "deserved", but out of tyranny. In seeking to refute this premise, which strikes him as so terrifying, he is consequently compelled to believe that Heaven, and probably God, remains a place of "light".
About believing in heaven for all those years? He sayd: âObviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys. But Heaven... Well, it, it's the side of Truth. Of, of Light. Of Goodâ. Yeah, I criticized him a lot for that.
But what else could he possibly believe in? Because believing the opposite would mean facing the prospect that he, too, is being used by a coercive, malicious system, one devoid of salvation, redemption, or hope, ruled by an oppressive, sadistic god. Fear of that reality drives him to reject the possibility and remain blind to the truth, preferring to believe in an enemy that is easier to fight: Hell. After all, it is simpler to cast them as villains, to use them as scapegoats, and to blind himself to the fact that Heaven and Hell are no different. Yet he did this because he needed to believe there was a 'greater good in all', a plan, just to hold onto some hope and a sense that things exist for a purpose. And that he, as an angel, is part of this purpose.
And too, he spent 6,000 years on Earth instead of in Heaven. This explains why he doesn't know what to do with a position in Heaven, despite his best efforts. As he puts it: âI just wanted to save everything, and... so that everybody could have a chance, including usâ.
Perhaps I was too hard on him, when he is the Supreme Archangel becauseâŚ
He fails because there are situational factors inherent to the job itself that he didn't take into account; he was compelled to meet complex objectives using unstable solutions. This makes him appear inept when he falls short of expected performance, yet we must consider that he was besieged by excessive demands for which he lacked basic resources, all within an oppressive organizational climate, even as he strove to do his absolute best. The problem is that his arrival in that job does not alter the structure of Heaven itself.
'Heaven' as place is an environment characterized by the members' inability to make collective corporate decisions that truly benefit everyone; it is rife with rigid hierarchical segregation, prejudice and workplace rivalry, alongside limited opportunities for team integration or collaboration that transcends hierarchy, the status quo, and the harmful established organizational culture.
You see, Aziraphale is the Supreme Archangel, but his arrival changes nothing about what that title implies in corporate terms. Consequently, it becomes clear why, despite his noble efforts, he ultimately yields to the demands of the position and transforms into something akin to a new "Gabriel", rather than enacting any truly significant change. This is not solely his fault; he is subject to the pressures of an environment pre-structured to be rigid and, as Crowley put it, "toxic"...
⌠He does not become a terrible leader because it is in his nature, but because the environment fosters this specific adaptation in him as he interacts with the cold and sterile setting to which he has been assigned.
Aziraphale started from a ingenuous perspective, believing that the authority of a position like Supreme Archangel might be the only thing needed to persuade others to change their plans.
As he himself says: âHeaven wasn't on anybody's side and I realised I could change that I could make it on everybody's sideâ, he thought that âIf I'm the boss (âŚ) I had a chance to make a real differenceâ and âI did eventually persuade Upstairs the Second Coming didn't have to be Armageddonâ.
He tries his best and strives to believe that his actions align with the greater good; yet, when that proves unfeasible, he transforms into a leader who listens only to himself, not out of natural inclination, but because he is at a loss. He realizes that the position itself changes nothing within Heavenâs broken structure, a systemic issue he cannot alter on his own.
As for seeking Crowleyâs help when Jesus disappears: the way the plot unfolds might initially suggest to the audience that he only turned to him out of self-interest, when it was convenient. However, we know that is not in Aziraphaleâs nature. It makes more sense to assume he seeks Crowley in a moment of need because he views him as someone he can trust and rely on, a partner with whom he shares a profound, long-standing emotional bond. He knows that, regardless of how their relationship has evolved or how many disagreements and conflicts have arisen among them, he can always count on Crowleyâs help whenever he calls.
As for his appearing to show little reaction when everything is destroyed, I initially interpreted it as a character flaw that made him seem indifferent, saying things like: âWell, there's just us. In the whole of everything. It's a place for us. We've got each other. And we've probably got some cocoa. And we've got lots of booksâ.
But this might not be indifference, avoiding 'the elephant in the room' (the destruction of the world, of the universe) could simply be a defense mechanism to stave off the shock and panic inherent in facing that reality. Those feelings would surely overwhelm him if he allowed himself to fully grasp everything he had fought for over so many years and everything he had lost even so.
He had just lost everything after giving it his all. It is entirely plausible that, in an attempt to escape the shock and disappointment, he would try to ignore the primary source of his fear and focus on anything else instead! Besides, he had nothing left but Crowley. Who wouldn't try to hold onto the one thing remaining?
It is also interesting that, despite the insults Satan and God direct at him, he neither backs down nor accepts it: he said thinks like âYou say all that as if it negates me wanting to do the right thingâ. and âI was also the second best angel you ever hadâ.
This brings us to Crowley, who, being a demon in a place as unpleasant as Helll.suffers from an extreme lack of affection; he sought a sense of purpose, which explains his constant questioning. To maintain his sanity, he has only Earth (and its pleasures) and Aziraphale.
For six thousand years, he has tried to reconcile his traumas of falling, his failure to find answers, and God's lack of love for him and for all creations and creatures. As he himself said: âI was tired, and I was angry, I did careâ.
Crowley was plunged into a rather complex metaphorical mental abyss: he came to realize that God 'was never anyoneâs friend', nor did she 'promise what she couldnât deliver'; rather, it was they who had placed too much trust in her, they, as her creatures, who tended to believe God had a plan that would benefit everyone, something logical, something that had to make sense.
But that plan always had a known ending:
Beelzebub: âThe Great Plan. It is written. There shall be a world and it shall last for six thousand years and end in fire and flameâ - Season 1
Aziraphale: âYou know the current word from upstairs is that we'll be shutting all this down again in about 6,000 yearsâ - Season 2.
And mind you, itâs quite unsettling that Crowley cares more about his plants than God with Her entire creation and all Her creatures...
...letâs remember that Crowley used the plants as a coping mechanism for his own traumas; instilling the "fear of God" (or rather, the "fear of Crowley") in them was a form of mirroring. He cast himself in the role of God; consequently, the plants represented the angels, specifically, the angel he once was. So, viewing God through Crowleyâs eyes, we see he perceives the Almighty as an extremely authoritarian, tyrannical, and terrifying figure, demanding, manipulative and cruel, who threatens destruction upon those who fail to meet expectations. The plants, meanwhile, acting as a mirror of Crowleyâs former self, represent a frightened being trying its best to live up to the absurd expectations imposed upon.
Yet, for all that, we know Crowley loves his plants. They are among the few things he keeps in his car during Season 2, and we see how he treats a small plant in the finale: keeping it close for company, entrusting it to othersâ care when heâs away, and returning to retrieve it, even kissing it, much like a beloved child.
Despite being harsh and even cruel toward them, he truly loves those plants. He threatens to destroy them, of course, though we never quite know if that was just part of the act or if he actually went through with it.
In general, it shows Crowleyâs ambivalent relationship with God; after all, this implies he wanted God to love her creatures, included him. He wanted threats of destruction to remain just threats, not reality. And if the threat were to be carried out, he wanted it to happen only when truly justified, due to a plausible error, not out of tyranny. He wanted things make sense!
God, on the other hand, did not reciprocate this; God was, in fact, prepared to bring about the end of everything. We have known since the first season that the world was created to last 6,000 years before being destroyed. This is reiterated in Season 2. And regarding the finale, if God is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent, then... well, let me borrow Crowleyâs words from the book:
âThe rebellion (âŚ) why did it happen, eh? I mean, it didn't have to, did it?" said Crowley, a manic look in his eye. "Anyone who could build a universe in six days isn't going to let a little thing like that happen. Unless they want it to, of course. (âŚ) and the forbidden fruit (âŚ) why do that if you really don't want them to eat it, eh? I mean, maybe you just want to see how it all turns out. Maybe it's all part of a great big ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, him, everything. Some great big test to see if what you've built all works properly, eh? You start thinking: it can't be a great cosmic game of chess, it has to be just very complicated Solitaireâ.
Therefore, likewise, no one who builds the universe in six days would let Michael destroy it in that way, unless wanted to!
What Crowley implies is that everything that happens occurs only because God wills it, because God is playing with the universe.
Thus, Crowley âchooses deathâ, his own, Aziraphaleâs, and that of the entire universe (which had already been destroyed by Michael), to bring a new universe into existence. He believes this is the only chance for creatures (not them, but others, new ones) to be, if not loved, at least free. Free from the tyranny of God and Her games. Or, at least, that was the idea...
Crowley chooses destruction because he believes it is the only way to escape Godâs âclutchesâ and âgamesâ. Aziraphale agrees because, by that point, he had tried everything and failed; therefore, Crowleyâs idea strikes him as the most altruistic one. Mind you, I am not saying it was the best option, I am merely trying to understand their choice from a psychological perspective...
... after all, opting for sacrifice, destruction, opting suicide is typical of people in an altered state of mind who lack support, people who act this way because they believe there is no other viable alternative. Suicide is not a carefully weighed act. They were in a situation that seemed impossible to them, where this course of action appeared to be 'the only way out'; this illustrates their profound sense of hopelessness regarding a world that was nothing more than a game to the Creator.
Generally speaking, choosing death means, from their perspective,that suicide isn't viewed as an absolute end to everything. On the contrary, it is seen as the only possible alternative to a situation deemed unbearable and seemingly irresolvable; in other words, suicidal people aren't necessarily looking to end it all: they simply believe there is no better option for escaping what they are facing. It is a desperate search for relief from suffering, a way to find freedom from pain.
As a general message within the plot, the idea that they "have" to do this is problematic, especially since the story tries to frame it as a noble, courageous act: a sacrifice for the sake of a supposedly better world. Yet, from the characters' psychological standpoint, it is madness...
Looking at the bigger picture, I was probably too harsh in criticizing the characters' actions during the Finale without fully considering the psychological context behind their behavior...
... Naturally, I focused my initial criticism on the script, in the lack of character development, and pacing, as those seemed to be the most glaring issues.
However, when considering the characters' choices, viewing their actions through the lens of their psychological reality within the story's context, ultimately, even though I disagree with their decision, some of their actions are understandable when viewed through the broader perspective of mental health struggles: they were suffering and needed help, yet instead, God willingly handed them a suicide pill, accompanied by the flawed promise that it would make things better.
God toyed with them, with who they were and what they felt, until the very end. Like a cat playing with a mouse.
In the end, they deserved more care and understanding. Those cutie patootie deserved better: they deserved love. And a better storyline.
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