Understanding ideology

An ideology is an organized collection of ideas. Most every school of thought or mode of understanding therefore exhibits ideological traits. In itself, ideology is neither good nor bad. But, whatever it is, ideology is always anthropocentric, which is to say that it always interprets reality exclusively in terms of human values and experiences. While the capacity for ideological reasoning is innate, a likely byproduct of the evolutionary development of homo sapiens sapiens, an ideology is not organic or natural. It takes conscious effort to give order and structure to the happenings in our world. That order is always predicated on what is relevant or useful to a particular human audience. Take scientific reasoning, perhaps the most dispassionate of ideologies. At its core, the scientific method is about understanding the observable world with limited cognitive tools. Even science acknowledges the influence of anthropocentrism to the pursuit of knowledge through observation.

Given this relatively anodyne definition, why does the concept of ideology strike so much fear and suspicion in our hearts? Part of the explanation is based on our knowledge of the horrors that ideology is capable of spawning. Ideology drove the worst excesses of colonialism, and it has played a powerful role in contemporary geopolitics. But this is only a partial explanation. I believe the root cause of this fear of ideology is doubt. We fear that a rival ideology may have exposed an inadequacy, real or perceived, in our own ideology. This explains the familiar ritual of singling out a particular ideology, or type of ideology (say, religion), as the single greatest threat to society. But for the ideology in question (for example, Wahhabi Islam), humans would be able to reach their full potential without causing mayhem and havoc to others. Of course, implicit in this statement is the assumption that, to some extent, people need to live a life that is consistent with our own ideology in order to reach their full potential.

It is here that we are confronted with an interesting paradox. The paradox is that while we often fear ideology from ‘outside’, and a classical example of this is Islamaphobia in the West, the fear is often actually a response to our own ideology coming into competition or perceived competition with another ideology. So, for example, regardless of whether we live up to the ideal, we have an idealized sense of identity, what it is to be Australian or Muslim or Bantu, or whatever the identity might be. That identity necessarily is premised on distinguishing ourselves from those who are not like us. We may not actually live by this example. But the moment we perceive a potential risk to the fabric of this identity – too much non-Anglo Saxon migration, the corrupting influence of ‘Western culture’, not enough non-Indians in the workforce, and so on – our fear of ideology is pricked.

In this regard it is worthwhile to note that an individual is rarely fearful of their own ideology, assuming they are aware of it. This is because, to the believer, the fundamental truth of their ideology has been revealed, and the grace and wisdom of this fundamental truth out shines any weaknesses. Of course, we are less likely to fall victim to our own ideology, but even if we do we often suffer peacefully. A classic example of this is militarist patriotism. In Australia, we celebrate ANZAC day even though it marked the commencement of a brutal, wasteful conflict that killed several thousand young men.

Unfortunately, not all ideologies are equal. For example, most ideology does not have the same rigorous standard of proof as science. Most ideology, including science as institutionalised ideology, is so entranced with its own correctness that it is impossible to refute with rational arguments. The genius of ideology is its ability to simultaneously selectively sing its own virtues while conveniently neglecting to take responsibility for its vices. This is a key characteristic of most ideology.

Another key attribute of ideology is that it is innate. Humans are always looking for patterns, real or imagined. Take a look at any building, footpath or road. Each is a reflection of our innate interest in establishing order and predictability. No one can argue against such things; there is an inherent benefit in such order. But some times that innate tendency creates orders which at best are superficial and hence unproductive or, at worst, are highly destructive and, ironically, lead not to order but more chaos.

Given this, how does one safely navigate ideology?