When most of us think about politics, we think of different views as sitting on a spectrum. Left wing is at one end, right wing at the other. We all, therefore, sit somewhere on this straight line in the way we view the world.
But what happens when the two ends seem to have a lot in common? What about wellness influencers with passions for organic produce who support Donald Trump because of his anti-vax comments? Or self-described feminists wanting restrictions on abortion? Or when conservative politicians team up with environmentalists to stop wind farm development?
There’s a political name for this: the “horseshoe theory”.
This posits that the far-left and far-right are closer to each other than to the political centre. The theory takes the political spectrum and curves it into a horseshoe, with the middle of the shoe’s curve representing centrist (or “moderate”) values.
This seems to make sense. But political models are imprecise at the best of times, and this one is particularly flawed. While we need a better way to explain the politics of our world, this one isn’t it.
The history of the horseshoe
Horseshoe theory has been with us since the beginning of modern political modern ideologies. In the beginning though, it played out in seating configurations.
During the French Revolution, between 1791–92, the Legislative Assembly sat in a horseshoe shape according to each member’s level of support for the revolution. On the left sat the Jacobins, who wanted more revolutionary change. The Feuillants, who sought to retain a constitutional monarchy, sat on the right.
This “horseshoe” is reflected even today in our own federal and state parliaments, though members now sit depending on whether they are in government (right) or opposition (left), rather than ideological positioning.
But the thing about political theories is they’re developed and refined by lots of people over time, all of whom have their own ideologies and biases. These are often reflected in the models they make.
This is true of the horseshoe theory. UK psychologist Hans Eysenck was an early pioneer of the theory in the 1950s, but was also a staunch anticommunist. He deliberately developed the horseshoe idea to conflate communism and Nazism. He painted centrists as “tender-minded” (a term with no clear meaning, but meant to signify the moral goodness of the centre) compared with the “tough-minded” left and right.
In the 1970s, French philosopher Jean-Pierre Faye took up the mantle, claiming the left and right were equally totalitarian. This was aimed at condemning rival French philosophers, especially Jacques Derrida.
Others define the left and right as holding “collectivist” and “individualist” values, respectively.
But in making these assumptions, most of which aren’t clear to the casual observer, theorists bake in their own beliefs. This undermines how useful (or otherwise) these models are.
A flawed model
Horseshoe theory may be useful for a quick, basic understanding of political differences. But like most political models, it’s both simplistic and misleading.
One crucial critique of the horseshoe concept is that it lumps together popular movements that fight oppression and supremacy with those that reinforce it.
And the idea that far-left and far-right have more in common with each other than they do with the centre is also undermined by the wide range of disparate views on both extremes.
The fundamental problem is that horseshoe approaches treat political variables as constants, rather than as interrelated and dynamic. The left and right differ on fundamental issues that horseshoe analysis simply cannot capture.
Read more: 'Horseshoe theory' is nonsense – the far right and far left have little in common
Some models (such as The Political Compass) try to address this problem by using broader metrics, such as “economic freedom” vs “personal freedom”. But these, too, are ideological. The Nolan Chart, for instance, is tilted toward libertarianism.
Horseshoe models should be scrutinised for what they put in and what they choose to leave out. They emphasise values such as individualism, free markets and moderate policies, but register few of the social inequalities, exploitation and structural violence that often accompany them.
So while the left–right spectrum isn’t perfect, bending it into a horseshoe doesn’t do much to explain the strange political bedfellows of our times.
Shannon Brincat does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
