Being Right: Bipartisan and Issueless

One of the most contrived and artificial dichotomies in modern America is the

Republican-Democratic axis.

The American constitution and its electoral system was created by the Founding Fathers with a specific and explicit purpose: To prevent the rise of factional, party-based politics and keep politics to the individual. Preventing the factionalism that had ravaged through many early democratic experiments in Europe and elsewhere was Washington’s primary concern; he talked about it almost endlessly and lost no level of sleep trying to prevent the rise of American factions. Of course, the design was pretty poor, and John Adams, the second president after Washington, was a card-carrying member of the Federalist party. Every single president since has had a party affiliation, too, and more than that — you can’t get any serious position in America without being affiliated with a party.

The one politician in the entire United States who is unaffiliated with Democrats or Republicans is Bernie Sanders, and that’s a very liberal definition of ‘unaffiliated’, considering he’s currently a frontrunner in the Democratic primaries. So with that in mind, what, exactly, do the labels of

Democrat and Republican actually mean?

Our society is defined at its very roots by the artificial right-left ideas of Republican and Democrat, with “Republican” meaning a loose coalition of nationalist, industrialist and conservative interests and “Democrat” meaning a loose coalition of socialist, environmentalist and identitarian interests. The problem with these strange coalition of terms we vaguely dub “right” and “left” is that, at best, they have conflicting ideas and at worst, they all actively hate each other. Nationalist interests guillotined conservatives in Revolutionary France, and yet to be a faithful Republican you must accept both as part of the same party line; to hold to the Democratic line, and even more nonsensically, you must accept both universalist socialist tendencies and the ideas of particular identitarian privilege. In real politics, no one does this; we simply take the positions we support and ignore the other elements within our two-party system.

To put it more basically — the impoverished steel worker in Michigan is

supporting Republicans for completely different reasons than the New York landlord, and the inner-city hipster is supporting Democrats for completely different reasons than the organic farmer in Oregon. It’s more than that they’re different reasons, but that they’re fundamentally different reasons; reasons that contradict one another, fight against one another and seem to, in America, ignore their differences just to fight against people on an arbitrarily thin line. The two-party system is undemocratic, elite nonsense that the American people hold faithfully towards — even though it offers us nothing but contempt and disenfranchisement in return.The Two-Party system must go, and if there’s one thing you can bet on in modern American politics, it’s that it isn’t going to remove itself.