What
are Liberals and Conservatives?
November 2006
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As
divided as our society currently is
between liberal
and conservative,
with almost no-one failing to identify themselves as one or the other,
you'd think we would at least have clear and accurate
definitions of what these terms mean. But a close
inspection of the
discourse would reveal that we do not. Most people are able
to identify
the liberal and conservative positions
concerning
certain high-profile issues — that a Conservative
believes abortion should be illegal, and a Liberal
believes it should be legal, for example — but this is not
the same thing as being able to explain
what a
Liberal or Conservative is,
without simply pointing
to specific issues and repeating the Democratic or Republican
platforms. If you ask someone to try and do this, most people
will
respond with a list of stereotypes,
or categories
of people who fit into one camp or the other: businessmen
are Republicans; hippies
are Democrats; rednecks
are Republicans; feminists
are Democrats; religious
people
are Republicans; African-Americans
are Democrats, and so on.
But we
shouldn't
confuse the Democratic and Republican parties
with
the core
philosophies of liberalism and conservatism, since the positions of a
party can go back-and-forth: Abraham Lincoln, a member of the
Republican Party in its incarnation of the time, strongly opposed
corporate power, whereas now the Republicans support the corporate
world; Teddy Roosevelt, another Republican, was a strong
environmentalist who started the National Park system, whereas now we
associate environmental conservation with the Democrats; during the
nearly seven
decades that the Democrats held the majority in Congress, the
Republicans waved the banner of states’
rights,
but the states’
rights
battle cry reverted to the Democrats during the first six years of Bush
the Younger’s administration, when the Republicans controlled
all three
branches of the federal government; throughout most of the 20th
Century, the Democrats were interventionist in matters of foreign
policy, and the Republicans were isolationist: all of
America’s major
20th Century wars — World War I, World War II, the Korean
War, and the
Vietnam War — were entered into by Democratic presidents who
faced
opposition from Republicans; it was only after Vietnam started seeming
like a mistake and many citizens began favoring withdrawal that the
positions switched, with Republicans favoring the continuance of the
war in the name of patriotism and machismo, and since then, the
Republicans have been predominantly interventionist and the Democrats
predominantly isolationist.
As
far as anybody knows, what the words are supposed to mean is that
Conservatives favor stricter rules and Liberals favor looser rules in
terms of what people are or are not allowed to do. But if you
tried to use this definition to predict what modern Republicans and
Democrats logically should or shouldn't believe, you'd end up being
wrong a pretty good precentage of the time. In the case of
gun control, for example, the
Conservatives
might seem technically to have the “liberal”
position, in that it is
they who favor a greater degree of freedom — the Liberals,
however,
might counter by saying that they defend the freedom of others
to live in a society where they need not fear gun violence, rather than
the freedom of the gun owners to own all the guns they want.
So
here we see that it is sometimes a question of balancing
one type
of liberty against another.
The recent tendency of
Liberals
to subjugate the freedom of one citizen to
do
something to the right of another citizen to be free from
the thing that the first person wants to do can also be seen in other
arenas: the freedom of believers in the majority religion to
erect
public displays of faith vs. the freedom of people of minority
persuasions not to be made uncomfortable by those displays; or the
freedom of prejudiced people to say certain words vs. the right of
victims of prejudice to be free from assault by those words.
None of
these examples is an allegation of hypocrisy against Liberals, since
the freedom from
something is just as much a
freedom as the freedom to do
something — they are only illustrations of the fact that the
definitions of liberal
and conservative
are often an extremely tricky
matter.
Since
we here at The 1585
know that not all beliefs are
equally valid, the question of the relationship of truth
or falsehood
to certain rights must be brought to the table: opposition to
displays
of religious belief can stem from the knowledge that said beliefs are not
in fact true; opposition to
displays of racist ideology can
stem from the knowledge that racist ideas are not
in fact true.
Liberals, who tend to be more educated than Conservatives,
must
eternally deal with the paradox of how to confront an
individual’s right
to be wrong.
Here of
course, we must speak of responsibilities
in
addition to rights — if
individuals have
the responsibility
not to be ignorant,
then where should the government draw the line between encouraging
people to undertake this responsibility and denying
them the right not
to do so? And yet it
is the Conservatives
who have made a buzzword of personal
responsibility — although
this is chiefly because it allows them to lower
taxes by
cutting funding for various social programs. Liberals have
typically
drawn the line at denying the right
to ignorance
only in cases where others may be hurt
by the
ignorance — but certainly there are countless forms of
ignorance that seem
harmless now, but may eventually
become hurtful, at which point it may be too late to do anything about
them. And yet it is the Conservatives
who
have
lately espoused a doctrine of pre-emption
in
matters where people may eventually
be
hurt.
Conservatives (and many Liberals) would doubtless oppose a War
on Ignorance,
in which the ignorant would be forced to conform to the beliefs of the
educated — and yet the Conservatives have already
demonstrated that
they support pre-emption in cases where an enemy may
be
building weapons, and is it not ignorance
that compels people to take up the weapons they build?
If
a government exists at
all, then on some level its
existence
automatically will involve asking or compelling citizens to surrender
certain individual freedoms for the greater good. These
citizens will
eventually become so used to some ways of doing this that they barely
notice them, while remaining painfully aware of others.
Since,
deep in the
animal brain, no-one likes having to surrender any freedom, regardless
of what greater good is achieved, both parties attempt to win support
by calling attention to the ways in which the other
party is denying freedom, while concealing and obscuring the ways in
which they themselves
are doing so. And despite what the names would imply, in
recent decades
it is Conservatives who have been more successful in calling public
attention to the ways in which Liberals ask this. The Liberal PC
movement provided Conservatives with a seemingly endless supply of
rhetorical ammunition in this respect: requests by Liberals
that we
stop saying certain words, or that we recycle diligently, or drive more
efficient cars, were more noticeable to people because they tend to
come up in day-to-day life, even though most of them weren’t
really
that big of an imposition. Conversely, the Conservative
impositions on
personal freedom — the demands that we refrain from having
sex, or that
we go die in a war, or surrender various Constitutional rights — are
much bigger, but less noticeable in the
day-to-day life
of the average person.
The
case in recent years has seemed to
be that
Liberals would impose on personal freedom in a larger number of very
small ways, and Conservatives would impose on it in a lesser number of
very big ways. Logical or not, this has caused public
opinion to
shift in favor of the Conservatives — most people being both
uninformed
and lazy, and tending not to lead very exciting lives.
Well,
what do
you think the average America does more often in a lifetime:
get laid,
or throw away a soda can? Exactly.
It
sometimes seems as if the only arena in which the
two terms actually make literal sense is that of sex — of
the liberty
of the body
itself. And for years, it was indeed Liberals who championed
greater
sexual freedom and acceptance and Conservatives who opposed
it.
Perhaps
part of the reason that so many arguments between Liberals
and Conservatives
always seem to come down to sex
is that, deep down, we realize that this is the only context in which
the two terms really mean anything. But even in the bedrock
of the pure
fact of sex, allegiances may shift. Thousands of years ago,
the human
race had not yet separated the concepts of sexual freedom
and sexual impropriety,
largely because we had not
yet evolved the belief that women are just as human as
men — and so truly horrible
acts like rape
were viewed
through the same lens as simply free
acts like sex with multiple consenting partners for the sake of
pleasure or marrying against the wishes of one’s family.
A
contemporary
Liberal who idealizes the earthiness
of the
Classical World may
be shocked to learn that it was the Hebraic religions — Judaism
and
later, Christianity and Islam — that first championed the
right of women to own property, among other rights. But in
condemning the
sexually horrible
things that some Pagan religions
allowed, these new religions also condemned the merely sexually free
— and
today, they have evolved into the sexual oppressors (Judaism
less so
than Christianity and Islam; probably because, over the centuries,
Jewish scholars retained an emphasis on philosophy, whereas Christian
scholars were concerned more with politics, and Islamic scholars with
science).
Still
another level of
irony is added by the fact that
the Liberals — who, remember, were the religious types during
the First
Millennium
and the non-religious types during the Second Millennium — were
so
successful that, by the advent of the Sexual Revolution in America
during the 1960s and ’70s, disingenuous sexual behavior
(largely on the
part of men)
began to creep back through the door
under the umbrella of freedom,
eliciting a reaction
from the modern Feminist movement, which ensuingly began to condemn the
sexually free
along with the sexually disingenuous,
just as Christianity had done two thousand years prior. And
so Feminism
now stands in the same relation to Christianity in which infant
Christianity stood to the Pagan and Hellenic religions — and
now, as
then, the entire problem is that people are either unwilling or
philosophically ill-equipped to make distinctions where distinctions
should be made: between sexual practices which may be uncommon
but do not hurt
anyone, and those that do
hurt people, regardless of how common they are. (Of course,
Feminists
would say that they are
in fact making this
distinction, and are only against the practices that hurt
women — but there is often cause to dispute with them over
whether these accusations are always well-founded, as in the ongoing
debate about the supposed effects of pornography.)
The
fact that the passage
of time is a concern brings us
to another popular method of defining Liberal
and Conservative:
the American Romantic philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson
proposed that a Conservative
is simply someone who tends to have the gut reaction that
change
is bad.
But while this definition may seem accurate in terms of any
given
present moment, it is inaccurate in terms of an ongoing timeline.
This
is because it tends to be the case that, in terms of any given issue, a
Conservative is someone who believes now
what
Liberals believed in the past — depending
on the issue, it may be 50 years ago, or 200 years ago, but it is
nearly always
the case that if you go far back
enough, the present Conservative
position was the
old Liberal
position, whereas the Conservatives of that time believed something
that no-one believes anymore.
In
short, the Liberals have
always won.
A
Conservative, then, is
not someone who opposes
change so much as someone who
opposes any more
change — a Conservative
is someone who looks at the
present day and says “Stop — we
have finally reached the point where we don’t need to get any more
liberal,” whereas a Liberal is someone who believes we have
not yet
reached that point. To be fair, it should be pointed out that
someday,
of course, the Conservatives will
be
right — assuming that society goes on long enough, we must eventually
reach a point where it would be a mistake to go any farther to the
left. Contemporary Liberals must try to understand that in
the future,
the people who will be
believing what they believe now
will be considered Conservatives
by future Liberals
who believe something that no-one believes yet,
just as contemporary Conservatives must try to understand that if they
were to somehow travel back in time with their current beliefs, they
would be considered Liberals
by past Conservatives
who believe things that no-one believes anymore.
We
have spent much time
analyzing people’s beliefs
concerning
the issues, but where do these beliefs come from? The 1585
takes
the stance
that most people’s beliefs are rooted in their psychological
needs, and
even in their respective abilities — for example, the reason
that
university English departments are bastions of liberalism may not be so
much because of a bias forced onto the students by the professors as
because, growing up, we learn that English class is the place where
there are no right or wrong answers, and so the subject of English
appeals more to people who are comfortable discussing matters that
involve shades of gray; a child who prefers math class, where there is
always one definite right answer and all other answers are wrong, might
be more likely to grow up to be a Conservative.
People
of
both
political persuasions, however, must realize that external reality is
not
dependent upon their personal psychological comfort zones: sometimes
there are definite right answers, and sometimes
there are
shades of
gray.
Examine
the liberal and
conservative dreams for society:
the Left
wants everyone to be different but equal, and the Right wants a
hierarchy of power where everyone is the same — i.e., Liberals
are
comfortable in environments where everybody is really individualistic
and weird but no-one is telling anyone else what to do, whereas
Conservatives are comfortable in environments where no-one behaves in a
way that is unfamiliar to anyone else but there is a clear picture of
who gets to tell whom what to do. This would make sense in
terms of the
stereotype of Liberals coming from homes with weak or ineffectual
parents and being good at school, and Conservatives coming from homes
with strong imposing parents and being bad at school. And
yet, contrary
to popular belief, there are more divorces and broken homes in the Red
States (this is because the most common cause of divorce is money
problems, and the Red States are poorer; people also tend to marry
younger in the Red States, often for religious reasons, and marrying
young increases the likelihood of divorce).
In
his depictions and
analyses of Hell in the Divine
Comedy,
Dante posited that all sin is actually an unbalanced permutation of
Love, since Love is the basis of everything in the Universe of a loving
God: gluttony
is excessive love of food; pride
is
excessive love of self, and so on — and The 1585 believes that,
in the
modern world of political and social psychology, all ignorance and
error is also
the result of love; not because the
world was
created by any God, but rather because, in our developments, we begin
by loving the people and things around us, and only learn how to hate
when, accurately or inaccurately, we perceive someone or something as a
threat to the people and things we love.
When
someone is
defending
something that needs no defense, of course, to an outsider their love
looks like fear.
Liberals and
Conservatives each
accuse the other of being primarily motivated by fear
and see themselves as being primarily motivated by love,
and in a sense, all of this is true. Both sides are motivated
by the fear
that what they love
might be destroyed — in
the case of Conservatives, that what they love will cease
to exist, and in the case of Liberals, that it will never
be
allowed to exist.
This
is made even more
complicated by the fact that,
sometimes, we
are not even sure just what it is we love. Many political
stances, even
the most fervently held ones concerning the most contentious topics,
are really only expressions of a psychology that would have been
expressed in a nearly opposite
way had the person
been raised
in a different environment. For example, a woman who has been
hurt by
the men in her life, or who feels insecure because she considers
herself unattractive, might develop this into a religiously-based
anti-sex philosophy if she is raised in Kansas, but would have
developed exactly the same psychology and emotions into a far-Left
feminist stance if she had been raised in New York. A man who
feels
that his own physical form is inadequate because he was bad at sports
as a child might develop this into a liberal anti-sports philosophy if
he grows up in California, but the same person with the same
experiences might simply become a Conservative racist if he grows up in
Alabama.
It
is a fine line between hating models
and hating sex,
or between hating sports
and hating minorities,
since the culture teaches us to associate models with sex and
minorities with sports — yet in each of those examples, one
permutation
of the mindset is the far-Right
position and the
other is the far-Left
position. And when we consider that the positions discussed
in these
examples would almost certainly develop into the corresponding opinions
on abortion
or on the war,
we
can see that even the most
divisive issues in the country are often being argued by two opposed
sides that, psychologically speaking, are nearly identical
to each other — psychologically speaking, what makes
people “similar”
is not a matter of their positions
on the issues, but rather a matter of which
issues
they
are more
interested in
than others.
If
we take the issues out
of the picture, and examine in
isolation
the rationales, it would appear as if we all agreed about nearly
everything: Liberals call the Republicans the party
of the
rich because they protect
corporate interests, and
Conservatives call the Democrats the party
of the rich
because many Liberals have had expensive educations and live in fancy
cities, yet all agree that being the party
of the rich
is undesirable; Liberals call Conservatives heartless
because they cut funding for programs that help the poor, and
Conservatives call Liberals heartless
because they
favor science over religion, yet all agree that being heartless
is a bad thing; Liberals accuse Conservatives of wanting
everyone to be the same because
they oppose the rights of
gays and other marginalized groups, and Conservatives accuse Liberals
of wanting everyone to be the
same because they
demand that people unite in the acceptance of these groups, but we all
agree that wanting everyone to
be the same is a bad
thing.
When
the average person
forms their political identity,
it seems they often do so
by starting with one “pet” issue close to their
heart, and moving
outwards from there — deciding based on that central issue
whether they
are liberal
or conservative,
and subsequently seeking out rationales for why all the other
unrelated things that Liberals
or Conservatives believe must also
be true (lest their “pet” opinion turn out to be false
by association).
Political parties
(which many of the nation’s founders believed we should not
have,
instead believing that issues should be decided on a case-by-case basis
and not be associated with one another) are loose confederations of
special interests that arise because there is strength in numbers: If
you agree with me about my pet issue, I will agree with you about yours.
This,
in turn, leads to
the disturbing tendency of
people on both sides to think of a political orientation as a team,
rather than as an expression of personal belief; I call this tendency
disturbing
because it encourages loyalty even to beliefs that have been proven
wrong.
We have all known many people who at one time will admit that
an
argument
made by someone of the other persuasion is a “good
point,” or even that
it is “probably
true,” but then, the
next time the subject comes
up, will continue
to argue their old
position without even acknowledging the objection that they had
previously admitted was valid.
When
asked why they do this,
most simply
say that their opinion is
still their opinion — but
is it? Once you have admitted
that there are flaws in your position, or that you believe an objection
to it to be valid, does this not mean that your opinion is in fact no
longer your opinion, at least
not in exactly the
same way that you had always
explained it before? People are
able to do
this because they think of their opinion
not as an
expression of what they do or
do not believe to be
accurate concerning a certain subject, but rather as an expression of what
team they play for, almost as if
political belief were a sport.
To them, admitting that someone of the other persuasion has a
valid
point is like admitting that the
other team has a talented
shortstop — they are
being good sportsmen
by admitting this, but it doesn’t mean they have to change
teams.
Continuing
to
believe something even after
it has been
proven wrong seems to many people to be admirable loyalty,
like continuing to support your team even when you know it’s
going to lose. But truth
is not a competition
between two teams labeled Truth
A and Truth
B — either something is
true, or it is not.
And if
you know
that something is true, then that
is your opinion — so
why pretend
that something else
still is?
If
party identities were
actually the result of citizens
examining
all issues simultaneously and with equal scrutiny, then the parties
themselves could not possibly exist. Political identity is
the result
of people having one issue that they care about more than the others,
and their opinions on the other issues falling into place by
association — here at The 1585, we call this the Linchpin
Theory. I encourage
all people to try to identify
their own
personal linchpin issue,
and subsequently to
examine whether they actually truly believe
what
they claim to believe about all the others,
or have
only been lending them credence in exchange for other people lending
credence to theirs.
Let's
all keep in mind
Freud’s idea of the Heimlich
(“homelike”). He believed — as I do — that people seek out
and
try to replicate that which seems most familiar to them, but that,
since no-one’s formative experiences were perfect, and the
pain
inflicted by those experiences is still close to our hearts, people
also react to the too-familiar
as something
horrible, or unheimlich.
This serves to explain our tendencies to develop our
identities around
“pet” concerns, as well as why our opponents on
those issues are often
the people who are the most like ourselves, and why it is precisely
these people for whom we reserve our deepest animosities: the
Christian
and the Feminist, who both seek to deny the fact that human beings are animals
with unexpurgatable instincts;
the redneck and the
poor urban minority member, who are both keeping
it
real; the religious zealot and
the scientist, who have both
dedicated their lives to the pursuit and dissemination of the only
acceptable right answer.
(NOTE: this does not mean
that neither one is right — just that they are both more
psychologically comfortable with black-&-white issues.)
The
1585 is here.
It is a haven for those who demand truth, no
matter whom it angers — and who demand it from themselves before
anyone else.
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