© Charles D. Hayes
When I first discovered the academic
theory of ideological amplification a few years ago, I was intrigued, and I am
still. The subject is not only fascinating, but failure to understand it
thoroughly is politically hazardous. Ideological amplification is something we recognize
intuitively at an unconscious level, but it's not something most of us are
aware of intellectually, unless it has been brought to our attention. We may
hear of it, for instance, as a subject of study in academia or when it plays
itself out in public theatre for all to see. Those of us who grew up watching
TV westerns can recall the frequent gatherings of small-town citizens at their
local sheriff's jail, where grumbled opinions and heated remarks escalated to
the point of deciding to hang someone.
Ideological amplification is simply the
psychological behavior that occurs when people with similar views get together and
subsequently push their views to a further extreme. It happens as an often
unconscious way of unifying and solidifying the group. Together they move to excessive
positions that none of them individually would likely have reached on their own.
For example, liberals will tend to move ideologically further left and
conservatives further right when they’re in a group. It’s one thing, however,
when a harmonious group of like-minded individuals get together, but quite
another when it involves a competition to prove one's ideological commitment is
greater than that of the competitors.
This year's GOP presidential primary
offered a center-stage example of ideological amplification, and the result has
brought the Republican Party close to alienating a significant number of its
moderate supporters. Make no mistake, each of the individuals seeking the
nomination for president this year has had his own group of rock-solid
supporters. But to a skeptical electorate, the ever-increasing attempts to out-conservative
one another have, for the last four men who participated in this year's GOP primary
contest, succeeded in making Ron Paul look like a crackpot; Rick Santorum, a
religious fanatic; Newt Gingrich, a borderline psychopath; and Mitt Romney an
indecisive narcissist who appears willing to do or say anything to become
president.
When you factor in Rush Limbaugh, with
his trademark misogyny, the Republican Party has entered dangerous demographic
territory with regard to gender politics, if current polls are accurate. What
the candidates couldn't accomplish with ratcheting up their conservatism to a
fever pitch mania, Limbaugh has achieved just by being his usual hate-filled
self. After all, upping emotional angst through thinly veiled contempt and
outright hatred is what has made him a multimillionaire.
Between now and November, the most
interesting thing to come out of politics is going to be watching the GOP dig
their way out of the mess they've made and try to sound like reasonable human
beings to those of us who do not share their ideology. That there is a great
ideological chasm between our two major political parties today is blatantly
obvious, but it is still possible to disagree about politics without viewing
one's opposition as the incarnation evil. That is, unless either side amplifies
their position past the point of contempt for their opposition.
Regardless of where we register on the
political horizon, moving too far in either direction will land us in the camp that
we originally set out to oppose. Moving too far left or right can land one in
fascist territory, as left becomes right and right becomes left in extremes. A viable
democracy requires a left, right, and center with the input of each and the
exclusion of none. The lesson to be learned from ideological amplification is
to always be aware of its power and to guard against letting it push us to
extremes.
John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, our
second and third presidents respectively, were political rivals, but they
corresponded for a half-century in a dialog to further their ideas about what
was best for America. In 1813, Adams wrote to Jefferson saying that they should
not die before explaining themselves to one another. Both Adams and Jefferson
died on the same day, July 4, 1826, fifty years to the day after American
Independence. Too bad we can’t ask them about the danger of ratcheting up one's
rhetoric to the point of diminishing returns. But their actions leave little
doubt about the need for explaining ourselves without shouting or continuously upping
the levels of hostility.
Ideological amplification in politics is
analogous to conflict-ridden emotion on steroids: the only purpose served is to
move each side further and further apart. People who understand this human
frailty can overcome it, but it means caring more about solutions to problems
than which side is offering them. Genuine democracy requires getting beyond
ideology.
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