Written by: Samuel Guerra Arriaza
It’s after Election Day, and the past few weeks have been filled with controversy, scandalous quotes, YouTube presidential campaign ads and hard conversations with friends, family members and significant others, revealing their true colors. By the time you read this, you likely know who the president will be for the next four years. As I write this (Sunday, November 3rd), I obviously can’t know the winner, and I wouldn’t bet my money on either candidate; anything can happen.
In this article, I don’t want to reflect on either candidate, their tweets, or their policies—we’ve all had more than enough of that already. Instead, I want to reflect on something we tend to overlook, but it holds vast importance: the Overton Window.
Also known as the window of discourse, the Overton Window is defined as the spectrum of ideas on public policy and social issues considered acceptable by the general public at a given time. Named after American policy analyst Joseph Overton, this concept suggests that an idea’s political viability depends primarily on whether it fits within this acceptable range rather than individual politicians’ preferences. Its importance lies in how it shapes what politicians and leaders can successfully support or oppose without seeming too extreme to retain public office based on the current public opinion climate.
The word “spectrum” is particularly apt because this window can widen, narrow and shift throughout the years. There are six degrees of acceptance of ideas within it: Policy, Popular, Sensible, Acceptable, Radical, Unthinkable.
While politicians have used the terms “left” and “right” since the French Revolution in the late 1700s, their meanings have evolved significantly. Both terms can be vague, and their linguistic ambiguity has been harmful to the political climate.
Policies now firmly associated with one party were often embraced by the opposite party in previous decades. What we might call ‘left’ today might have been a widely accepted Republican policy in the past, or vice versa. For example, Republican President Ronald Reagan, in his last speech the night before he left the White House in January 1989, stated: “Thanks to each wave of new arrivals to this land of opportunity, we’re a nation forever young, forever bursting with energy.” He added, “If we ever closed the door to new Americans, our leadership in the world would soon be lost.” These statements contrast sharply with current Republican rhetoric and even differ from the Democratic candidate’s most recent approach when questioned about her plans on the border.
Looking further back, even more unfathomable shifts can be found. Democratic President Woodrow Wilson, who held office until 1921, famously opposed women’s suffrage and presided over what is considered the last century’s lowest point in racial equality after authorizing widespread segregation in federal buildings. Wilson’s policies represented a dramatic regression from those of his Republican predecessor, Theodore Roosevelt. Roosevelt was a prominent leader of the “Progressive Era.” In fact, he once appointed an African American man as customs officer for the port of Charleston, South Carolina, and Wilson bitterly opposed this appointment based purely on racial grounds.
This historical context challenges our modern preconceptions. Much of what we associate with today’s politics has formed relatively recently. Even the red-blue state terminology only emerged during the 2000 election; in previous elections, the color assignments or the actual colors used often differed.
Beyond linguistic ambiguity, these terms promote tribalism, leading many people to support “their team” unconditionally while opposing anything associated with the “other side.” Instead of assessing issues on their merits, people often get drawn into an artificial us-versus-them battle. This mindset fuels harmful stereotypes, with the worst traits being attributed indiscriminately to everyone in the opposing group. How much conflict could be avoided if people moved beyond this tribalistic mentality? What if voters realized they don’t need to pledge blind loyalty to a “tribe” but could instead follow their own moral compass? What if they discovered that many current policies don’t align with the principles they believe they’re defending?
For these reasons and more, I believe the terms “left” and “right” have become more than just inaccurate labels—they’re detrimental to political discourse. They deepen societal divisions and fuel a cultural war that doesn’t need to have such protagonism. Most importantly, they blind people to potential common ground and distract from more fundamental issues, such as class inequality, that deserve our attention.