The Political Party Illusion

It’s been said that every great nation has its rise and its fall; that it’s rise occurs as a result of a large percentage of the population being determined to work hard to create a better life. Its fall occurs at the point that a large percentage of the population has become spoiled, then complacent and, finally, apathetic. 

Much of the First World has reached this latter stage, all (to varying degrees) at the same time. Unfortunately, historically, the period of apathy is almost invariably followed by a period of bondage – a marked social and economic decline in which the people of the nation become little more than serfs of the state that rules them.

Whilst most readers would agree that most of the above describes the First World in its present state, they’d be likely to argue that, this time around, bondage will not be on the horizon. Whilst reason might tell them that this is exactly the predictable (and historical) outcome, the idea of bondage is too frightful to consider as being a possibility. Whilst a few may rail against this eventuality, the great majority simply open a beer and turn on the TV. A very comfortable form of apathy, but apathy just the same.

So, are there any differences this time around? I would say that there’s one major difference and that is that the packaging is more sophisticated.

In days of yore, the Sheriff of Nottingham and his men rode into your village and demanded what few silver pennies you may have earned recently. This was clearly a dictatorial government – one in which the people had no real say. One which was ruled by force and the people were clearly serfs. 

Punishment was simple: If you did not pay, your hut was burned, your possessions confiscated, and you were thrown in prison to remain until the debt had been paid. 

Nobles fared a bit better – in the 15th century, an ancestor of mine, Lord James of Dartmouth, having failed to share with the monarch the spoils from a ship he had taken as a privateer, spent several months in the Tower of London until he could pay King Henry IV a sum of 2000 pounds - literally a king’s ransom. 

And this occurred in spite of the fact that the king favoured Lord James. Don’t mess with the king, no matter who you are.

Now, of course, things are entirely different. Today, the Sheriff does not ride into your village demanding your money; you’re required to send it in yourself. If you fail to pay, your house is not burned; it’s confiscated by the tax authorities, along with your other possessions and you face prison. 

Increasingly, people are ruled by force, just as in the 15th century. But in spite of the above, citizens of many First World countries can still claim to have free elections – the last bastion of the democratic system. 

The idea of the democratic process is that the people may elect their leaders and thus control their destiny. However, running for office is quite expensive and this means finding donors. Understandably, anyone who provides a donation does not regard it as a gift. He seeks something in return. 

In national elections, this means very large donations, translating into very large compensations. Those who contribute the most (Big Oil, Big Pharma, Big Banks, the Military Industry, etc.) can demand quite a bit in return. In any “democracy” that has been in existence for a long enough time, the relationship between donors and candidates becomes circular. That is, after the candidate is elected, he repays the donor either in rights to operate that others do not receive, or he provides them with tax dollars. Once the circular relationship is fully cemented for a period of time, the returns to the donors grow to exceed by far the donations and the voters are, unwittingly, actually paying the donors to dominate their lives. 

Not surprisingly, the donors come to regard the tax dollar infusions as a source of ongoing revenue and seek to have it grow regularly. (If voters could understand this circular relationship, they would be less surprised when their legislators, whether they be conservative or liberal, consistently fail to diminish the government demand for tax.)

So, we’re left with the remaining advantage of democracy: the ability to vote for those who will protect our freedoms, as we see them.

In the majority of First World countries, there are a host of political parties (the US is a notable exception), each claiming to represent a specific point of view. Most of them are small, however, and voting generally comes down to liberal or conservative. Liberals claim to champion the social freedoms (gay rights, abortion, etc.) whilst trying to limit economic freedom. Conservatives claim to champion the precise opposite.

Most voters seem to see the system as one party - say, the liberals - winning and increasing the social freedoms of the country. After a while, they’re voted out and the conservatives have their turn, increasing the economic freedoms. 

Described in this way, it would seem that the two-party system provides an ideal balance, moving ever-forward with consideration for all.

However, if this attractive image were reality, liberals would not be filled with disappointment at the end of a liberal term, when their social freedoms somehow had not increased. (Their party somehow needed to compromise with the evil conservatives.) However, they did find that their party was successful in diminishing economic freedoms, so they remain loyal to the party. At the end of a conservative term, it’s the reverse. Whilst their stated objectives for regained economic freedoms somehow failed to come to pass, the leaders managed to limit social freedoms in some way. (The Patriot Act in America is perhaps the most extraordinary example in recent years.)

What voters seem to miss along the way is that the net result is that, far from increasing one type of freedom under one party, then increasing the alternate type of freedom under the other, the net effect is that, under a liberal government, economic freedom is diminished and under a conservative government, social freedom is diminished. Freedom, in general, therefore ratchets downward with each term.

It does seem that voters throughout the First World are beginning to recognize that, whichever party is in power, they’re getting short shrift, and their country is headed inexorably downward, whilst their leaders seem to be doing rather well. Will they ultimately rebel? Will the minor demonstrations of discontent evident in the First World escalate into something more violent and more organized?

And what do the politicians think is likely to happen? Although they’re not commenting on the subject, we should be able to guess their plans, based upon their actions. If they plan to increase freedoms in the future, they’d be providing a calming effect to the present frustrations. However, if their true goal is a return to a kind of modern serfdom, they would be preparing for it by increasing their controls. 

In much of the First World, the latter seems to be the intended direction. Nowhere is this more evident than in America, first with the renewal of the Patriot Act in 2011 and shortly thereafter with the passing of the National Defence Authorization Act.

As stated above, the main difference between the feudal system of five hundred years ago and the feudal system that’s developing in the First World today is that the packaging is more sophisticated. Instead of having identifiable kings whom we may all hate, we have the distraction of two political teams that we may choose between. Whilst we praise the good guys (our preferred political party) and hope that they’ll vanquish the bad guys (the opposing political party), they are in fact one and the same, and they both work for the kings.