TL;DR

This blog post illustrates that the traditional political compass fails to adequately represent the complexities of libertarian thought and other political ideologies. By proposing a multi-dimensional conic projection, I emphasize the convergence of political beliefs at extreme libertarianism, contrasting it with the divisive nature of authoritarianism. This perspective not only highlights the diverse options available within libertarian frameworks but also suggests that extreme libertarianism (anarchy) is impractical and would ultimately lead to the establishment of smaller governing bodies. Ultimately, understanding libertarianism through this geometric lens reveals its nuanced implications for society and governance.

The problem with the political compass

Libertarianism is oft portrayed on a compass with left-right on the X-axis and authoritarian-libertarian on the Y-axis.

This isn’t the best way to represent it. In the most extreme form of libertarianism you arrive at anarchy - for which any other political views become irrelevant. If you have no government, you can’t have conservative or progressive policies at all. So a maximally extreme right-libertarian government is identical to a maximally extreme left-libertarian government - they’re both anarchy. The further away you get from anarchy, the more divisive political ideologies become.

Additionally, it takes for granted the definitions of “right” and “left” in politics, which are really just vague generalizations of republican vs democrat in the US, and have less obvious overlap in other countries.

Really, there are many more dimensions to political ideologies than just left-right and authoritarian-libertarian:

• globalist - nationalist
• environmentalist - industrialist
• pro-life - pro-choice
• militarist - pacifist
• … the list goes on

Approaching extreme libertarian (anarchy), regulation becomes a bottom up process rather than top-down from the government. For example, you could run a hospital that either refuses or allows termination of pregnancies. The people have the freedom to choose what ideology they want to follow. So really, extreme libertarianism is a politically convergent axis of political ideologies. It’s neither “left” nor “right” wing, neither “pro-life” nor “pro-choice”, etc.

You could argue that it tends more towards more policies such as free trade, open borders, and pro-choice - those political opinions may be dependent on the libertarian political axis. On the other hand, it also doesn’t regulate hospitals from refusing to perform abortions, or allow them. There are simply no top-down rules, but bottom-up rules are free game.

Reframing as the political hypercone

In two dimensions, it should be thought of in triangular space:

At the bottom point of the triangle is anarchist, top left is authoritarian-left, and top right is authoritarian-right.

Expanding the triangle into 3 dimensions we get a conic projection of political ideologies - where the Z axis is authoritariansm-libertarianism, and the X and Y axes are are other political dimensions, going beyond the broad generalizations of “left” and “right”. Say, X could represent globalist-nationalist, and Y could represent environmentalist-industrialist. Similar to the triangle example, the bottom point is anarchy, and the top is full authoritarian control over the other axes.

For the especially geometrically minded, imagine an n-dimensional conic projection - where the z-axis similarly converges to the point of anarchy and the further away from that point, the more control the government has over the other axes.

So what does this mean?

Viewing libertarianism from this perspective is enlightening - if you agree with the premise, you’ll realize libertarianism leads to political convergence. Authoritarian regimes lead to extreme division.

Why not go anarchist?

Let’s try a thought experiment; aliens from Betelgeuse mysteriously turn all politicians into assorted vehicle tires - some are actually more useful now!

What would I do? The world is suddenly in anarchy. Shit! Someone could rob, harm, or murder me with no repurcusions. Personally, I would try to find the biggest-baddest street gang near me and offer them money for their protection. Or maybe I gather a group of friends and try to quickly build a fortification with defenses. But I’m no fighter, I’d probably get butchered pretty quick on my own.

But wait a minute, I’m basically imagining a reformation of government at this point. Complete anarchy cannot be in a stable state ad infinitum. Inevitably, small governments would emerge from the chaos.

James' Quaint Cafe

In a quiet neighborhood nestled between towering pines and cozy bungalows, life flowed gently as residents tended their gardens and watched their children play. This was a place where picket fences and Sunday barbecues forged the fabric of community. But for one ambitious dreamer, it was also a canvas yearning for color - a quaint cafe, a sprinkle of life amid the monotony of routine.

James had always loved the idea of creating a space where laughter and the aroma of fresh brew intertwined. After years of saving and planning, he finally gathered enough courage to purchase a small, charming house at the end of Elm Street. He envisioned rustic wooden tables, potted plants, and the warm, inviting scent of Vanilla Chai Lattes wafting through the air. It would be a hub for neighbors to gather, a sparkle in the subdued landscape of single-family homes.

With enough cash for renovations, James wasted no time. He demolished the old, peeling drywall and painted everything in shades of earthy green and soft cream. He replaced the rickety fence with something cheerful and vibrant. Friends cheered him on as he transformed the once-muted residence into a lively gathering spot.

However, beneath the surface of this quaint neighborhood lay a web of rules and regulations. And three weeks after reopening the doors of his café, James found himself at odds with the very foundation of that community—a notice nailed to his door from the city, demanding he cease operations. Something about zoning. Something about rules.

“Single-family residential zones aren’t meant for cafés, James,” the note warned, as he crinkled it in his fist. “Closure is mandatory.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” he muttered under his breath, resisting the urge to back down. He held firm to his belief that his little café was a benefit to the community. Perhaps too stubborn to accept defeat, he continued to serve his customers their morning brews—the rebellious aroma flooding the street, attracting curious onlookers and turning patrons into friends.

As days turned into weeks, the civil servant who had issued the warning became a mere ghost of an annoyance, and James’ dream felt more tangible than ever. But bureaucracy doesn’t easily yield to stubborn dreams. On a drizzly Thursday morning, two officers in crisp uniforms appeared at his door, their stern expressions shadowing the cheery ambiance he had carefully created.

“Close immediately,” the senior officer commanded, stepping into the café without invitation.

James felt a swell of heat rise in his chest. “I’m not closing. This cafe brings joy to the neighborhood!”

“You’re breaking the law,” the officer warned, irritation flickering in their eyes.

“I’m not harming anyone!” James protested, though he sensed the futility in his words.

The tension snapped like a thread pulled too tight. When the officers moved to arrest him, James instinctively resisted, kicking out in a desperate attempt to hold onto what he’d built. But all it took was one powerful shove—and then pain, intense and blinding, shot through his arm as it was wrenched behind him.

In that agonizing moment, something primal surged within him. He lashed out, kicking one officer, but the response was swift. In an instant, everything changed. James felt a sharp crack, followed by an unbearable heat spreading through his head. His vision swam as a wave of confusion rolled over him, and just like that, his world faded into an endless void.

It lingered in the air, a painful silence where dreams had once danced. Readers might lean back in their chairs and speculate, maybe even judge: “Well, he shouldn’t have resisted… rules are rules!” But as the community around him continued with their mundane lives—gardens tended, dinners prepared—the question lingered like the aroma of perfectly brewed coffee: Does a stubborn defiance truly justify the chilling conclusion to a life so vibrantly lived? And was it really worth sacrificing the dreams we hold dear to enforce boundaries that stifle rather than support?

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