The Gulf of Convenience

A frustrating aspect of political life is the way activists exaggerate the differences between their standpoint that of others who supposedly occupy the opposite pole of that imaginary political spectrum we refer to as left and right. Or left and left or right and right or up and down. It's never easy to pinpoint these things.

For example - for years I have been accustomed to think of Jeremy Corbyn as an old style trade union communist. Yet occasionally I see him as a fascist, supposedly at the opposite end of the political spectrum. This issue is perfectly familiar and it even has a name - horseshoe theory.

In political science and popular discourse, the horseshoe theory asserts that the far-left and the far-right, rather than being at opposite and opposing ends of a linear political continuum, closely resemble one another, much like the ends of a horseshoe. 

If pressed I’d go further and suggest that anyone so inclined could easily maintain the argument that Corbyn is indeed a fascist who has spent his political life making common cause with overseas fascists even though we do not generally refer to such people as fascists. It's an argument one could make because political language is so loose.

This is the problem - the imaginary gulf between extreme political positions because extreme political positions are rather common. If one listens carefully to everyday conversation then huge numbers of people hold extreme political views anyway. Many would nationalise vast swathes of the economy, control prices, drastically increase punishment of criminals and extend judicial punishment to any number of social or political misdeeds. Many seem to be far left and far right rolled into one.

Huge numbers of people see the government as the only significant actor on the political stage, as if anyone else who ventures onto the stage should be kicked off it. The government should do something, the police should do something, “they” should do something. Guardian readers are particularly keen on this approach.

Almost always it is the central power which should do something and that something tends to imply a drastic curtailment of liberty. People in general are not particularly liberal politically and among the most illiberal are those who purport to be liberals. That’s the problem of political language working its malign magic.

One consequence of the corruption of political language is that many MPs in the House of Commons should not be there. They are not suited to the role and apparently unaware of their own deficiencies. Yet we lack the clear and distinct language to say who they are and why they are unsuitable. We fall into the swamps of party loyalty, abuse, ridicule or convoluted political analysis none of which really meets the need.

Too many MPs are merely public employees who cannot do the job, never will be capable of doing it and ought to be dismissed. Many have no real experience beyond the political bubble. Yet we do not have the common ground to say this as cogently as we should. We do not have politically untainted language, the factual language we might use to assess the capabilities of any employee. And MPs are employees – we tend to forget that. But maybe that’s the way they like it.