Image by Pabak Sarkar (License CC BY-SA 2.0)
Politically, I’ve defected from one side of the ideological spectrum to the other. And I’m proud of it.
The consequence is that there is great variance in how others perceive my ideology.
One’s impression of my stances, by and large, is temporally-based— hinging on what point in my life a given individual met and last saw me.
Over the past eight years, I have done quite the 180: gone from being a hardcore conservative to identifying as a fairly strong liberal. It’s been a tough journey— and perhaps one that’s still unfinished— but I think it’s made me into who I am today.
In this article, I wish to dispel the myth that political ideology is necessarily something fixed, as opposed to fluid.
Why do people, myself included, change their political beliefs? How common is it? Are political positions predicated upon nurture (your environment) more so than nature (your genes)?
Let’s delve in.
“…most of us won’t become millionaires and billionaires, and we shouldn’t be marginalized by those who are.”
The Beginning
Growing up, I admittedly cared little for politics. I followed broad political events— like presidential elections— but I knew very little about the actual beliefs or nuances of being a Democrat or Republican.
Nevertheless, as a 12-year-old, I do remember making a $5 bet— then a substantial amount— with my dad in 2004, apropos John Kerry beating Bush.
I had borrowed my prognostication from a Nickelodeon Kid’s Choice poll or something of the like in which Kerry led by a handy margin; of course, the poll was based on faulty premises, not to mention it didn’t factor in anything like the Electoral College.
Plus, what kind of Cali kid would’ve expressed any sort of goodwill toward Dubya? I would’ve immediately have lost the few cool points I ever had.
Needless to say, I begrudgingly handed over a crisp Lincoln to my dad that November.
From what I remember, it wasn’t until my senior year of high school in 2009 that my strong interest in politics truly began to take shape. Whether by happenstance or fate, it was an AP Government course that sparked said interest.
I haven’t really navel-gazed as to why I became a card-carrying Republican in my youth, but I believe both environmental and biological factors were at play.
My dad, as far as I know, has always been conservative. My mom wouldn’t quite fall on the conservative end of the political spectrum, but she isn’t so liberal that it turns off my dad.
From a young age, it was always my dad talking about politics and listening to conservative talk radio, so his influence weighed heavily on an ever-impressionable youth.
It also doesn’t hurt that much of my extended family happens to be on my dad’s side, and they generally lean right to varying degrees.
Therefore, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that genes, which are said to substantially influence political orientation, were somewhat at play.
While I didn’t necessarily fit all of the standard demographic traits for a Republican, I wasn’t totally unaligned.
You’re significantly more likely to be a Republican if you are white, for example, as I am, but also more likely to fall on that side of the aisle if you’re religious or older— of which I am neither.
Some have argued that merely living in a city makes you more liberal. This notion is largely reflected in metropolitan voting patterns. Many will point out that in 2012, for example, there were only a handful of large cities that did not vote for Obama.
This finding even holds for big cities in otherwise red states— e.g. Austin, Texas and Atlanta, Ga.
It has also been speculated that conservatism meshes seamlessly with small-town or rural values: self-dependence, a religious outlook, etc.
Self-dependence, in particular, is something I’ve always preached, even if I didn’t walk the walk. I have always felt that one should try to fulfill their own needs, whenever possible.
This belief likely saw its genesis in the situations I encountered at school; in group projects, for example, I couldn’t trust my classmates to get work done properly, so I overcompensated by taking on the attitude that I should take complete responsibility, and perfect everything on my end.
In retrospect, maybe it was clear to others that I wasn’t meant to be a hardcore conservative, but I felt the need to latch onto an identity, and that seemed like the lowest-hanging fruit.
(It also helps that my AP Gov teacher was extremely liberal, and I liked being a contrarian for the sake of being a contrarian.)
Libertarian Phase
It was sometime during the beginning of college that I began to realize that the conservative stance on social issues was largely wrong and antiquated.
Regardless, I felt unable to go full lib. This was probably partly due to the fact that I wasn’t fully ready to adopt such an ideology, and politically, I felt most strongly about a free-market economy.
I also wasn’t willing to fully swallow my pride, and admit that I was completely wrong.
Thus, becoming a libertarian seemed like the most fitting choice.
Nonetheless, I don’t think I ever felt fully comfortable about being a libertarian, as much as I tried to force the label down my throat.
I never did vote for Gary Johnson— I declined to cast a ballot in 2012, while voting for Jill Stein this past November— and I remember feeling cognitive dissonance at the utter disregard that many libertarians express toward the environment.
I think that my prioritization of the economy over all else took root in having majored in Entrepreneurship in college. Giving undue weight to economic issues ended up interfering with other parts of my life.
Many friends and romantic interests, for example, were turned off by my political stubbornness. One partner, in particular, told me that she simply hadn’t realized how steadfast I was in my beliefs when she broke up with me.
The writing was on the wall— I needed to change again. It was just a matter of when I would be willing to accept my fate.
Bernie Bro?
In all honesty, I do not remember the exact point at which I started to identify as being liberal. That fact in itself likely signifies something bigger: for most, changes are gradual, and take pain and struggle to take effect.
After all, a political belief at rest stays at rest.
With my pro-capitalist conviction being the only thing that had to be shattered, it should have been seen as inevitable to outside observers that my political leanings could change dramatically.
It took some personal trial and error, however, for me to begin to change my outlook.
During the end of college, I had begun working in financial services. I had somehow convinced myself that it was a fitting field for my interests and temperament; the truth was I was mainly in it for the thrill of the sale and a potential six-figure income.
Once I failed at multiple firms in the sector, I had to reexamine not only my life goals, but my deeply-held beliefs. Was capitalism so great? Did I really want to prioritize making money over being happy?
I tried a handful of other jobs in rapid succession between where I was then and where I am now, trying to find my true calling, which I seem to have found in writing.
Ultimately, I think my post-collegiate employment experience awoke me to the fact that most of us won’t become millionaires and billionaires, and we shouldn’t be marginalized by those who are.
Furthermore, my experiences exposed to me the fact that we need a strong social state to support us, particularly in an era in which there is an ever-increasing wealth gap.
Sometimes you have to learn the hard way, and it’s not always pretty.
Is My Situation Common?
It’s not super common to switch immediately from being a Republican to Democrat, or vice versa, according to the Pew Research Center, although it is more common for those who deem themselves independents to choose a side.
The operative word here is “immediately.” My swing from conservative to liberal was gradual and organic, spurred by maturity, life experience, and getting to know the “true” me.
A 2013 piece in Wired UK spoke to the many things that play a factor in political ideology, “including biology and neurology, cultural conditioning, motivation, personality and temperament.”
It goes on to cite studies that have found phenomena such as individuals tightening their grip on beliefs when presented with facts directly contradicting said viewpoints, and people actually holding stronger opinions when ignorant on an issue.
These biases are only further reinforced if you only hang around people who hold the same views as you, aka groupthink.
Many have speculated that most Trump voters knew few to no Clinton voters, while Clinton voters knew few to no Trump voters. A lack of understanding can cause a lack of perspective and empathy, which I will touch on a bit more briefly.
It’s important to remember that a number of politicians have switched parties, whether out of true change in belief or for the sake of convenience. In fact, at one point, both Trump and Clinton identified politically as being something other than a Democrat or Republican.
President Trump identified as being part of the Democratic and Reform parties— running for president on the ticket of the latter in 2000— before settling as a Republican.
It was news to me that Hillary was actually a Republican for many years. She supported Goldwater, and attended the 1968 GOP Convention.
All in all, I’d like to think that changing parties or ideologies, regardless of the nature of the switch, signifies that an individual is open-minded and independent in thought.
Being able to admit that you may have been wrong is a noble trait in itself. People change and evolve throughout life, and to imply that political beliefs don’t follow that same rule is a belief you should drop.
Daniel Steingold is a writer from Los Angeles, CA who’s an advocate for alliterative artistry. Admittedly ambivalent towards social media, he halfheartedly hopes hospitable humans heap plentiful praise upon his prose periodically posted to Facebook.
His two known writing projects, one used and one abused, are The Article Review (thearticlereview.com) and A Wiki a Week (awikiaweek.com), respectively. He enjoys learning about everything under the moon, because, well… the sun BURNS his ghostly white skin.