morgan_dhu: (Default)

I am saddened and ashamed.

A Muslim woman was picking up her children from Grenoble Public School on Monday when she was attacked. Two men approached the woman and started hurling anti-Islamic and racist profanities at her. Police said the men started calling the woman a “terrorist” and said “go back to your country.” One of the men started punching the woman in the stomach and a second man ripped off her hijab during the assault.

A Toronto couple put a sign on their property, asking Muslims if they were sorry for the attacks in Paris.

Police are investigating a fire deliberately set at Peterborough’s only mosque. Police and fire officials arrived on Saturday at around 11 p.m. at Parkhill Rd. west of Monaghan Rd. to Masjid Al-Salaam after receiving a call of smoke coming out of the mosque. Peterborough police have confirmed that the fire was deliberately set.
Police in Kitchener, Ont., are investigating vandalism at a Hindu temple. Ram Dham Hindu Temple president Dilip Dav says several windows at the rear entrance of the temple were shattered late Sunday night.

Saskatchewan Premier Brad Wall wants the federal government to suspend its plan to bring 25,000 Syrian refugees to Canada by the end of the year.

And this is just what I know about, what has been reported in the news I've read so far. It's not only that responses like this mean the terrorists have won. It's that when we act in this way, it shows that we are lost, lost to the light, lost to humanity and empathy and compassion. Doing evil in the name of good is still evil. We may think that we are defending something, protecting something, avenging something - but in truth, when we respond to hate and fear with yet more hate and fear, we are destroying light, destroying love, and destroying ourselves.

morgan_dhu: (Default)

In the wake of the Bernie Sanders Seattle appearance incident, I've seen a lot of white folks on the Net lecturing black folks on how misguided their criticism of Sanders is, because he marched with MLK and he's a good guy who wants justice and equality for all and they should be happy to work with him because he's far more an ally to them than all the other politicians running. And the hard thing for them to understand is that while all they say about Sanders is true, it's not relevant in the way they think it should be.

Which got me to thinking about one of the most insidious aspects of white privilege - insidious because it's primarily found among white people who are honestly trying to be allies, to work for social justice and equality, to fight the good fight.

And that insidious aspect is that we white liberals start thinking that we're doing all this work, all this fighting, "for" other people, and that we deserve something in return - gratitude, a pat on the back, a bit of slack when we backslide, some acknowledgement of what we're doing.

I totally get that. Sometimes I feel that way myself. And then, because I'm a white woman who is therefore lacking privilege on that axis (and a few others, but let's not get complicated here), and have known men who want some kind of acknowledgement for what they think of as their efforts on my behalf, I get myself out of that space of white fragility pretty damn quickly.

Because there's no way I am going to - or should be expected to - thank a man for not raping me, for not harassing me, for not limiting the work I can do, for not thinking he owns me or has some kind of natural rights to my emotional work or sexuality or submission and service, for not doing any of those things that demean, devalue, or limit me as a woman. There is no reason why I should have to be grateful to another human being for treating me, and others like me, as human beings. You don't get accolades for the basic social requirement of not being a total jerk.

It's easy to understand why white people (and indeed anyone in a position of privilege who is working to be an ally and bring about social justice) feel they deserve something in return. It's hard work, coming to understand your own privilege, rooting out all the institutionalized racism we imbibed with the very air we breathed as children. It's difficult, challenging yourself, your friends, your family, your community, your government. And we live in a society where things we define as work - even if they are things that are enjoyable, or personally rewarding, or obviously the right thing to do, receive a return. We are paid for the work we do for employers or clients, and if we do a particularly good job, we expect bonuses or promotions or raises or repeat business. If we do community or church work, we expect to be recognised for it. We want the acknowledgement of our peers for our generosity, our charity, our kindness, for the things we do for others.

But there are kinds of work we don't expect praise or perks or payment for. No one is going to reward us for keeping our house clean, for washing our dirty socks and underwear. We do these things for ourselves, because a house with shit on the floor is not a great place to live, because clean underwear feels better than crusty underwear. We do these things because they are part of the basic life functions we engage in for ourselves.

And that is what white liberals sometimes don't realise, or remember. We aren't engaging in social justice action "for" other people, like a white knight or lady bountiful, we are not saviours who deserve cheers and special considerations - we are doing it because not to do it would be to fail at the basics of being a human being.

There is no reason why anyone should be grateful when I treat them like human beings, because that is the bare minimum to be expected of one human being in relation with another. And there is no reason why I should get a break when I fail to respect the humanity of others, just because there have been times when I didn't fail. It's my own responsibility to behave like a human being, and my own reward when I get it right is knowing that I did.

morgan_dhu: (Default)

SHATTER THE SILENCE


I post this not because I think fans and writers of colour need my help, my acknowledgement, my recognition, my approval, my white-assed whatever, in order to declare and celebrate themselves. They don't.

I post this because I want to hear their stories, and keep on hearing their stories. I want white publishers and white editors and white agents and all the other white gatekeepers of the white-dominated mechanisms of publication and distribution to know that I want to hear their stories, just as much as I want straight male cisgendered non-disabled publishers and editors and agents and gatekeepers to know that I want to hear the stories of women and PWD and queers of all kinds.

I grew up believing in IDIC. I still do.
morgan_dhu: (Default)

The Internets are talking a lot about racism and science fiction and a host of related concerns these days. There’s even a name for it – RaceFail 09 (aka The Cultural Appropriation Debate of Doom 09, because there has to be a pseudonym) – because so much of it has been about, in one way or another, how white fans and writers and editors and publishers are failing to even try to do the right thing when it comes to race.

I haven’t written much about it here or in comments in other posts, because I am wary of perpetuating the trope of the white defender riding to the rescue of the helpless oppressed person of colour. And there are so many powerful voices of colour speaking strongly and clearly and bravely and wisely and passionately and truthfully, they don’t need my help. They are not victims in need of saving, they are the heroes I hope to emulate.

But it’s also true that in many eyes, silence equals consent - with the oppressor, of course, never with the oppressed. If I do not speak, no one is going to assume that my silence means I agree with those strong, wise, brave, true voices of colour.

And so I say this: I do not consent to the silencing of different voices, even when they say what I am afraid to hear. I do not consent to the derailing of discussion on race and power and privilege, even when the discussion demands that I examine myself and find the unacknowledged racism and classism, the internalised sexism and ablism and heteronormativism, all the other influences that come from living in a society built on oppression and exploitation and protection of privilege and othering and dividing those who would resist in order to conquer all.

And I say this, too: I want to live in a world where we all can celebrate the differences of equals, where there are no Others, only different ways of being Us. But I know that’s not the world we live in, so it is incumbent on me to do what I can, in the best way that I can, in spite of all the internalised garbage I carry with me, and the racism of the world around me to try to make that world I want to live in a reality.

Here and now on this battlefield, for this white person who hopes to be a good ally, that means supporting fans and writers and editors and publishers of colour. It means honouring, savouring, learning from the words and thoughts and experiences that fans and writers and editors and publishers of colour have shared in the course of this engagement. It means taking the good that has begun here – the new ventures, the new understandings and awakenings, the new alliances – and building on them.

- - - - - - - - - -

Reading and learning:
The many links of [personal profile] rydra_wong
[community profile] 50books_poc

Supporting:
[community profile] verb_noire
[profile] fight_derailing

morgan_dhu: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]

I just had to answer this, especially after viewing other people's responses. A goodly number talked about how they might think there was something to astrology, but they didn't believe in horoscopes.

Now this made me laugh and cry simultaneously, since the horoscope is in fact the prime methodology for preparing an astrological analysis of some sort (personality, present and future trends, horary, and so on - there are many types of analysis that an astrologer can undertake based on a horoscope) and hence is value-neutral, not something one can believe in or not. Whether one can derive insights from a horoscope - the astrological analysis - is another question altogether. But a horoscope is just a method of presenting verifiable facts.

But of course, people have come to believe that the inane and generalised bits of fluff printed in newspapers and the like are "horoscopes," and since they are rarely accurate (although, given the way they are normally developed if the writer of daily newspaper horoscopes really is an astrologer, they will have somewhat more relevance for someoen who was born around sunrise), it is now believed that the horoscope is inaccurate.

So, you may ask, what is a horoscope? Let us examine the word itself. There are twp parts to the word, "horo-" and "-scope."

"-Scope" is a suffix that means viewing or observing. Wikipedia tells us that it "derives from the scientific Latin suffix -scopium, meaning a viewing instrument, which in turn originates from the ancient Greek verb skopein, to examine." This makes sense, we've all heard of telescopes, microscopes, kaleidoscopes, oscilloscopes, stethoscopes, all sorts of scopes. Furthermore, we have likely heard or talked of "scoping" someone or something out. So a horoscope is something that observes or examines, and that may in some sense be thought of as an instrument.

"Horo-" is derived from the Latin "hora," which has the specific meaning of hour, but which can also mean time or season in general. You have horology, the study of timekeeping, and horologe, a (somewhat archaic) word for a clock or timepiece.

So a horoscope can be presumed to be some kind of instrument through which one examines time, or the hour in specific. Once we recall that a horoscope is an astrological instrument, we might make a guess that a horoscope might be a way of examining the planets, sun and moon at a particular time or hour.

Which is exactly what it is. The horoscope is a depiction of where the various planets are in relation to the ecliptic and to the hocal horizon at any given time. If properly calculated and based on accurate measurements, either your own or those published in an ephemeris, there's no belief involved in a horoscope. It just is what it is, a depiction of the planets, the moon and the sun. If I give you a horoscope, and you go to the place it is calculated for, at the time it is calculated for, you will be able to verify (with the aid of telescope) the positions of any planets, the sun, or the moon, that are shown to be above the horizon on the horoscope. To verify the position of anything below the horizon, you will have to be in instantaneous communication with someone exactly opposite you, in terms of longitude and latitude, who is also looking at the sky.

Certainly there is considerable debate as to what the horoscope means. That's the analysis, and some people think it means absolutely nothing, and others think it has anywhere from a limited to an overwhelming meaning. But an astrologer and an astronomer, once they agreed on some technical definitions having to do with terminology for divisions of the ecliptic and the local meridian, would come up with the same diagram.

So do I believe in horoscopes? The question is meaningless.

Do I think that horoscopes can be interpreted using astrological principles to provide useful information about something that may have happened or someone who may have been born at the precise time and place for which a horoscope is calculated? Now that's the question.

I learned to calculate horoscopes and interpret them according to astrological principles at the age of 18, and in fact did this professionally for a good 15 years of my life. While retired from practice, I still do horoscopes and off-the-cuff interpretations for friends. Over 34 years, I've developed my own thoughts on why the interpretation of horoscopes in this fashion has a certain degree of relevance and meaning, and I've refined some of the principles I was taught to fit my personal hypotheses. And after all of that, the answer for me is still yes.

IBARW

Aug. 11th, 2007 09:57 pm
morgan_dhu: (white privilege)

I’ve been thinking a lot about what would be appropriate for me to write about for International Blog Against Racism Week.

I thought about collecting links about Canadian racism – because there’s this comforting little bullshit mantra we white Canadians keep repeating to ourselves, that Canada isn’t nearly so much of a racist country as, say, the U.S. is, which is false, because it’s not better here, it’s just different – but due to some health issues, I haven’t had the time to search for all the links I’d want to include. So I’ve decided to save that for next year, and prepare it in advance, because it needs to be said.

Then I thought about doing some sort of autobiographical piece, on how I noticed that there were people of colour in my world and when I started figuring out that there were differences in treatment, and how being raised by a well-intentioned liberal mother to believe that all people are the same, no matter what their race, religion or ethnicity (the good old colourblind approach to racism) might have made my behaviour different from that of some other people (because, when I was growing up in the 50s and 60s, there wasn’t a lot of colourblindness going around, and I think, it may have been an essential step in the evolution of white recognition of racism and white privilege) but at the same time blinded me to the realisation of how important it is to recognise and respect difference, and to realise that saying “la-la-la, this is how I think it should be in a perfect world” does jackshit about how it is right now. But then I realised that this was that kind of shifting the focus of the issue away from racism and onto me, me, me, the well-meaning white person, that so many well-meaning white persons do so very well. So I’ll do that some other time in some other post when focusing on me is more appropriate.

Instead, I’m going to post an expanded version of some comments I made in response to an IBARW post about anger on [personal profile] oyceter’s journal.

On the Uses of Anger and the Resistance of the Privileged

I’ve been running into a lot of discussions of anger and how it is received when it is part of a protest against social injustice (such as acts or speech grounded in sexism, racism, ablism, heterosexism, transphobia, and other institutionalised systems of Othering, oppression, repression, prejudice, and privilege), especially when it is shown by someone who is a member of the Othered group.

It seems that it’s not nice for women to get angry about sexism, or for people of colour to get angry about racism, or people with disabilities to get angry about ablism, and so on. And when your inferiors aren’t nice to you, what do you do? Well, at first you ignore them, because as a superior person, you’re too nice to pay attention to their loss of proper subservience. Then you try to get rid of them – sometimes you even have to call in the servants to toss them out. You disparage them, talk to all your equally nice and superior friends about how horrible it is that all these inferior people are going around shouting and screaming and using foul language and sometimes even getting physical. You pass laws to keep them from acting up. You refuse to have them anywhere in your nice house, neighbourhood, workplace, playground, school, gentleman’s club, and so on.

It has been argued that this is why oppressed peoples should not allow themselves to be seen as angry, because then no one will listen to them, and nothing will change.

But then, one must ask, just how far does an oppressed group get by being quiet and polite and reasonable, and never, never angry? [profile] bellatrys has, I believe, covered this scenario very well. You don’t get far.

And yes, it’s very true that, if you then show your anger, you will encounter a great deal of resistance. But resistance is part of a process. If they are resisting, that means they have been engaged. They are no longer able to ignore, to pretend there is nothing happening. And that, I believe, is vitally important for change.

It is my belief that anger is important, that anger should not be set aside in the struggle for justice and for change. It is my belief that it should be harnessed, used to fire the spirit and support the body while you fight, even while it is controlled and channelled so that it feeds the message rather than rendering it incoherent. It seems to me that anger is how people respond when they are hurt, injured, mistreated, betrayed, belittled, excluded, done an injustice. It’s a healthy response. It means that you know something is wrong, and it has to be fixed. It gives you the energy to resist, to fight, to save yourself. Anger is not something to be denied. And using it effectively does not necessarily mean using it with violence, which is something that many people seem to think is true. Anger is energy – how it is externalised is up to you.

And yes, people who think of themselves as good people may – and probably will – get upset if you tell them by your righteous anger that they have at the very least benefited and been complicit in such injustices. In fact, they will probably go a lot farther than that. They’re going to resist. They’re going to call names, to excuse themselves, to say it happened a long time ago and it wasn’t their fault. They will argue that whatever is hurting you is hurting them too, to point out places and times where you, or your ancestors, or people like you, might have done something bad, or times when bad things happened to them, or their ancestors, or people like them (and all that might well be true, but some truths are not always relevant). And they’re going to be very, very hurt and dismayed at how angry you are, and how that’s just not like you, and they’ll try to persuade you that anger is not a valid approach, that you should be nice and calm and sensible and rational, just like them. They may even talk about how your anger is a sign that you’re not ready for, or perhaps not even capable of, being treated as equals.

But they can’t ignore the anger of the oppressed any longer. They have responded, and that is the beginning of dialogue.

(Time for a shift in POV and a narrowing of focus.)

Speaking as a white person in the face of anger expressed by people of colour, our reactions to anger are our problem. Not the problem of the people who are oppressed by the society we live in and benefit from, the people whom we indirectly and often directly oppress. We’re the ones who have to work though all the bullshit our privilege allows us to think and say and do. The anger of people of colour is what it is – the only honest response to what white colonialism, racism and imperialism has done to them. The fact that it is also a gift to us, if we chose to see it, is for us to understand and use.

Because people in power, people with white privilege - are, for the most part, not going to give up, or share, power and access, or let go of all the apparatus of lies and mystifications and covertly racist policies and all that shit that keeps us comfortable and unaware just because someone makes quiet, calm, logical, rational, nice arguments and appeals to reason. Because we can come up with just as many calm and logical arguments why it shouldn’t be done, why it doesn’t need to be done because the laws of god or history or the free market will do it in the right time and you’ll just have to wait for it, why it can't be done, at least right now, or why it wouldn't be right or fair or proper, or it would harm something important like the economy or national security or making whites feel good about ourselves, and all the other bullshit arguments. We have a million of them.

Most of us will not really be moved until we see and feel the anger of those we have oppressed, and understand it, and its consequences, in our gut. We are not going to change if we are asked nicely. Why should we? We have power, and privilege. It’s comfortable for us to stay that way. We might be poor, or women, or disabled, or queer, but at least we’re not people of colour – no matter how bad it gets for a white person, there’s always that little bit of privilege we can hold onto. (Of course, the intersectionality of oppressions means that many of you out there, regardless of your chromatic status, can say “at least I’m not a woman/disabled/queer/poor” – but this post is about racism, and we don’t need to fight about a hierarchy of oppressions, because there isn’t one.)

We’re not going to give this up without a struggle. We’re not even going to think about trying to give it up until we are forced to feel it. And we can’t feel a rational argument, or a polite observation. But we can feel your anger. And realise that this much anger has to come from something that hurts. That really, really hurts. And if we have any empathy left at all – and many of us do, it just that we don’t often engage it for people who we think aren’t like us – that’s going to eat inside of us, because we get angry when we’ve been hurt, and it will make us realise that you are like us, because you get angry when you’ve been hurt too. And then we, at least some of us, will start thinking about trying to give it up (in fact, some of us already have, and its because injustice makes us angry, pain makes us angry, and your anger made us understand that you are experiencing injustice and feeling pain).

Because it is about pain and empathy. This is why we make up myths about how certain kinds of people “don’t feel pain that way we do” or “don’t care about human life the way we do” or "hate our freedoms.” Because if we let ourselves realise that we're not the only ones who love life and freedom, and feel pain, that we're not special and refined and more evolved than all those other people we think are inferior, then we couldn’t sustain the illusion for ourselves any longer.

And that’s why anger will work, does work, has always worked. Constructive anger, anger that focuses the fire of justice on the pain that the unjust are trying to conceal, until even we can see how much pain you feel and how unjust we are.

morgan_dhu: (Default)

I support reproductive choice.

I support those who choose to bear a child, without reservation, no matter what their social or economic situation may be, no matter what medical issues may exist for the one who carries or the one who is being born.

I support those who choose not to bear a child, without reservation.

In order to make these choices freely possible for all, I support a full system of social and financial supports for those who choose to bear a child, and for children that have been born, so that no pregnant person need go without food, shelter or medical case, and that no child need live without food, shelter, medical care and education. I support universal daycare so that no caregivers of children need choose between work and knowing that their children are safe and cared for at all times. I support complete and intelligent sex education for all young people so they can make decisions for themselves in full knowledge of the meanings and potential consequences of their actions and in full knowledge of how to protect themselves from risk. I support universal access to contraception, abortion and sterilization products, services and technologies, and increased research into new methods that will continue to make these safer and more accessible. I support full access and increased research into medical services that provide persons who wish to bear a child but cannot do so easily or without intervention with the assistance they need to have their chance to bear a child. And I support strict legal guidelines that make it certain that no person will ever be forced, coerced or pressured into any of these reproductive choices.

I support these things because it is the right of every human being to control their own body, and because it is also the right of every human being to be respected and given access to the necessities of life, and the responsibility of society - which is all of us - to ensure that those rights are in fact respected for all.

I have never had any personal ethical struggles with abortion, as many have, at least in part because my belief system is not a Judeo-Christian one. I don't believe, and never have believed, that conception had anything to do with a providential deity or with granting or denying a spirit's one and only chance to be born into flesh. I believe in the immortality of spirit, both before and after birth and death. I believe that the decision of whether to bear a child is a conversation between the one who bears and the one who would be born, and that it is always possible for the one who bears to say "Not now - come again later if you so deeply want to live a life as my child, or go with my goodwill to choose another parent in another place and time," or "No, I choose not to bear a child in this life. May you find the environment you seek elsewhere."

I have had an abortion. I have never born living children, though I have had several pregnancies that ended in miscarriage. I have no regrets, and I would not change my decision were I to be in that time and place again, knowing all that I know now. I have assisted another woman to conceive outside of heterosexual intercourse and joyfully call both her and the child she bore part of my chosen family. I have fostered a young girl without anyone to parent her, and helped her to find her own path in the world. I have had the great gift of being able to make my own reproductive choices in this life, and I am at peace with them.

I long for the day when every person can say the same.

morgan_dhu: (Default)


Whan and how did you arrive at your essential political, ethical and religious/spiritual philosophies? Have you always tended in certain directions and simply found the influences that brought you to where you are today, or did someone or something teach you/influence you/make you think about these positions and values?

Last night, I was talking with my partner [personal profile] glaurung_quena about some of the books and authors from my youth that I've been re-reading of late (details available on my book journal, [personal profile] bibliogramma. I noticed that a lot of them, quite unbeknownst to me at the time, were fairly radical in some ways - Naomi Mitchison's Memoirs of a Spacewoman, Suzette Haden Elgin's At The Seventh Level, Samuel Delany's work... in fact, the other night, I was re-reading Rosemary Sutcliff's Sword at Sunset, published in 1963, and ran across a small passage in which her attempt at a historical King Arthur is looking around at his band of companions, sitting around socializing after a hard day's work of hunting down Saxons, and sees two of his warriors having a cuddle in the corner. His thoughts are basically - lots of warriors form such relationships while on campaign and away from women, but these two really seem to be in love, which is only going to make them better warriors because they won't want to fight poorly in front of their lover.

So I was sort of wondering if perhaps, it was all of this stuff I'd read as a child that had started me on the path to becoming a left-wing radical with some very strong feelings about social justice, a pagan animist with some very strong feelings about the unity of all things, and all of those other values that underpin who I am.

But then my partner pointed out that I'd also read everything Heinlein had ever written when I was a child, and a lot of books by other people, some fairly right-wing, militaristic, crypto-fascist, etc., and hadn't been particularly influenced by them, other than to think about what was wrong in their worldviews, from my perspective, anyway.

Having a working mother back in the early 60s when this was not really common for a white middleclass child may have had something to do with my becoming a feminist at a very early age, but my mother was far from being a radical in political terms. I was raised until the age of about 12 or 13 without any continuing religious influences, except for one grandmother who kept trying to put me into Bible classes, but I didn't see her often at all. Then my mother converted to Judaism, but I was old enough that she simply asked my to keep kosher in the house out of respect for her, so while I studied the basic principles with her, I wasn't being pressured to adopt any particular faith, which was a good thing because by then I'd already developed the basic structure of my own beliefs, which were not at all like those of Judaism or Christianity.

So what was it? What made me initially susceptible to a left-wing/socialist and at the same distinctly spiritual and mystical set of perspectives on the world I live in? Sometimes it seems to me as though I have always felt this way, and that I uncovered my core beliefs rather than developed them, as I would read or hear one thing that said to me "yes, of course, that just feels right" and then read or hear something else and feel that there was something basically wrong about it - and that the rest was simply refining my feelings of "rightness" and "wrongness" with evidence and reason.

And how about you?

morgan_dhu: (Default)

Taken from [livejournal.com profile] hothead, [livejournal.com profile] fancymcsnazsnaz, and [livejournal.com profile] madamjolie, and modified to fit my own circumstances.


I'm pro-choice, and I would have an abortion. I have had an abortion in the past, and I do not regret my choice.


The meme:

If you agree with this statement, post it in your journal:

I'm pro-choice, and I would have an abortion.

*If pregnancy is not in the theoretical cards for you but you want to participate, feel free to substitute the statement "I am pro-choice" or "I'm pro choice and I would assist someone with having an abortion, no questions asked." Or whatever you're comfortable with. The implications are slightly different, but solidarity is just as important. The important thing is not having the BUT that everyone loves throw in there.



The background:

There are too many damned idiots in the world going around saying "I'm pro-choice, but..."

But what? But I'm so morally superior I'd never do such a nasty thing myself? But I'll never be in that position because I'm too smart, too privileged, too whatever I think will exempt me from the possibility of being pregnant and not wanting a child? But I think it's the less worse of two evils and I really feel uncomfortable about it? But I really don't want to admit that pro-choice means that some people will have abortions, no matter how perfect a world it is.

And if you are that person who accepts without judgment another's choice to have an abortion but would not have one yourself, guess what - you're just plain pro-choice. You choose not to abort. But it's a choice, and you acknowledge other people's rights to choose differently. So you don't need to say "I'm pro-choice, but..." Unless what you're really after is distancing yourself from those people who choose abortion, and if you are, then perhaps you need to ask yourself why you need to distance yourself.

So, no "Buts" allowed on this one. You either believe in reproductive and sexual choice or you don't.

morgan_dhu: (Default)

Plots your political position on a dual-axis grid taking into account both economic and social values: a more sophisticated system than the old standard of left/right, liberal/conservative. And it does a rather good job, too, at least in figuring out where I stand - I came out just where I ought to be, way down in the lower left corner.

Economic Left/Right: -9.38
(i.e., communism/capitalism)
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -8.21
(i.e., anarchism/fascism)

The authors analyse a number of well-known political figures as well, and indicate where those individuals would likely fall on the grid. I feel just fine being in the same quadrant as Gandhi, Mandela, and the Dalai Lama.

Found out about this from [livejournal.com profile] mishaslair -
Take the test at http://www.politicalcompass.org/

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