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The English suffixes -phobia, -phobic, -phobe (of Greek origin) occur in technical usage in psychiatry to construct words that describe irrational, disabling fear as a mental disorder (e.g., agoraphobia) and in biology to descibe organisms that dislike certain conditions (e.g., acidophobia). In common usage they also form words that describe dislike or hatred of a particular thing or subject. more...

Dandy-Walker syndrome
Darier's disease
Demyelinating disease
Dengue fever
Dental fluorosis
Dentinogenesis imperfecta
Depersonalization disorder
Dermatitis herpetiformis
Dermatographic urticaria
Desmoplastic small round...
Diabetes insipidus
Diabetes mellitus
Diabetes, insulin dependent
Diabetic angiopathy
Diabetic nephropathy
Diabetic neuropathy
Diamond Blackfan disease
Diastrophic dysplasia
Dibasic aminoaciduria 2
DiGeorge syndrome
Dilated cardiomyopathy
Dissociative amnesia
Dissociative fugue
Dissociative identity...
Dk phocomelia syndrome
Double outlet right...
Downs Syndrome
Duane syndrome
Dubin-Johnson syndrome
Dubowitz syndrome
Duchenne muscular dystrophy
Dupuytren's contracture
Dyskeratosis congenita
Dysplastic nevus syndrome

Many people apply the suffix "-phobia" inappropriately to mild or irrational fears with no serious substance; however, earlier senses relate to psychiatry which studies serious phobias which disable a person's life. For more information on the psychiatric side of this, including how psychiatry groups phobias as "agoraphobia", "social phobia", or "simple phobia", see phobia. Treatment for phobias may include desensitization (graduated exposure therapy) or flooding.

The following lists include words ending in -phobia, and include fears that have acquired names. In many cases people have coined these words as neologisms, and only a few of them occur in the medical literature. In many cases, the naming of phobias has become a word game.

Note too that no things, substances, or even concepts exist which someone, somewhere may not fear, sometimes irrationally so. A list of all possible phobias would run into many thousands and it would require a whole book to include them all, certainly more than an encyclopedia would be able to contain. So this article just gives an idea of the kind of phobias which one may encounter, certainly not all.

Most of these terms tack the suffix -phobia onto a Greek word for the object of the fear (some use a combination of a Latin root with the Greek suffix, which many classicists consider linguistically impure).

In some cases (particularly the less medically-oriented usages), a word ending in -phobia may have an antonym ending in -philia - thus: coprophobia / coprophilia, Germanophobia / Germanophilia.

See also the category:Phobias.

Phobia lists

A large number of "-phobia" lists circulate on the Internet, with words collected from indiscriminate sources, often copying each other.

Some regard any attempt to create a list of phobias as an irrational endeavor because, theoretically, a person could become conditioned to have a fear of anything. Also, a significant number of unscrupulous psychiatric websites exist that at the first glance cover a huge number of phobias, but in fact use a standard text (see an example below) to fit any phobia and reuse it for all unusual phobias by merely changing the name. For a couple of striking examples.

"... Poor performance or grades. Promotions that pass you by. moths phobia will likely cost you tens, even hundreds of thousands of dollars over the course of your lifetime, let alone the cost to your health and quality of life. Now Moths Phobia can be gone for less than the price of a round-trip airline ticket."
"... The expert phobia team at CTRN's Phobia Clinic is board-certified to help with Russophobia and a variety of related problems. The success rate of our 24 hour program is close to 100%"


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Don't dismiss the craziness of modern artists - they go where
From Independent, The (London), 10/5/96 by THOMAS SUTCLIFFE

"The logic of complete freedom leads to the madhouse," Simon Rattle recently said in his television programme about 20th-century music. It wasn't easy to see from the context exactly how we should read this remark - was it merely a paraphrase of Schoenberg's anxiety, an attempt to describe the vertigo of a composer newly liberated from traditional harmonics? Or were we to read it as a self-evident statement of truth? Plenty of people would happily subscribe to the latter view, in particular those who think that the tidal ebb of aesthetic obedience in the current century has exposed a slimy expanse of junk-dotted mud. It is very easy to turn the remark from a reminder that the true artist is always disciplined (even if they invent a new discipline) into a philistine sneer at artists whose work is not underwritten by traditional methods - a different way of saying that the lunatics have taken over the asylum.

Rattle's remark came to mind when I was looking at Antony Gormley's Field, a startling and thought-provoking installation at the Hayward Gallery. The work consists of around 40,000 little clay figures, crudely moulded into a rough approximation of a body, each with two indented holes for eyes. What makes people gasp when they face the room in which these homunculi are arrayed is not the quality of each individual figure. You could say of them, calling up another commonplace aggression against modern art, that "my six-year-old could do that". Indeed, this judgement is incontrovertible - Gormley used ordinary people to help make his figures, including children, whose smaller hands have produced infants for this wondrous population. But what exactly would you think if your six-year-old had done this - if every spare minute was bent to the creation of little figures, which were then neatly arranged in a bedroom to cover all horizontal surfaces? You would, surely, call a psychiatrist, even if your parental indulgence lasted beyond the 1,000 mark. Encountered anywhere but in an art gallery such behaviour - obsessive and fixated - would call for a clinical explanation, not a critical one.

This is not to argue that Gormley is deranged (though, like many artists, he may like to think of himself as not quite as sane as the next man) but it is to suggest that one of the features of the art of this century has been a readiness to see that psychosis might have things to tell us. And in the case of Field, the absence of reasonable limits delivers surprisingly rich dividends. This piece isn't just marvellous to look at - it stirs in the viewer thoughts of megalomania, benevolence, dread and cruelty (judging from overheard conversations, I wasn't the only one who felt an impulse to run into the room and trample these tiny, beseeching figures). And there are incontrovertibly great artists who have gone even further in the pursuit of a single goal - both Mondrian and Giacometti might serve as examples of artistic compulsion that could easily look deranged if the inspection had different motives in mind - if the viewer was a psychiatric social worker and the paintings and sculptures were to be found in a cluttered bed-sit. Both those artists worked with traditional media but the almost limitless definition of what might now count as art has greatly expanded the repertoire of derangement. It isn't very difficult to find a contemporary artist to match almost any pathological symptom. Some mentally ill people collect their own faeces - so did Pietro Manzoni, in numbered tin-cans which he then sold to collectors. Some people suffer from a condition called dysmorphophobia, addictively visiting plastic surgeons to alter their appearance - so does the artist Orlan, who records her grisly transformations on videotape. This raises an obvious problem of discrimination. Coming out of the Hayward, I passed a homeless man pushing a railway trolley stacked with an office chair and a section of timber-veneered partition wall. Given an articulate rationale about these objects - an interest in "the fragility of the permanent", say, or an exploration of "communal loneliness" - as well as a gallery willing to endorse his vision, there is no reason why such an assemblage might not figure as an art installation. Indeed, the reason why most galleries would probably refuse is that it would be a bit old hat. Been there, done that. Such facts are taken by conservatives as evidence for the general debasement of contemporary art. They aren't, but they do suggest that the viewer's duty of judgement begins rather earlier than it did in the 19th century, when the threshold question was not "Is this art at all?" but "Is it any good?" For my money, Orlan urgently needs to see a doctor, not another surgeon, but such cases shouldn't blind us to the fact that for some fine artists, "the road to the madhouse" has turned out to be a fascinating excursion, not a hideous wrong-turning. From next week, this column will appear on Thursdays

Copyright 1996 Newspaper Publishing PLC
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.

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