Compromise is not a starting position. Compromise is an outcome.

The Myth of Compromise

One of the most popular lines candidates use when running for office is “I want to work across the aisle” or “I want to compromise.” “I want to bring both sides together.” It sounds reasonable. It sounds mature. And in practice, it is often a trap for weakness and failure.

I say that as someone who loves debate. I studied politics. I seriously considered law school. I enjoy arguments for their own sake. I consume right-wing media, left-wing media, centrist commentary, and everything in between because I believe intellectual curiosity makes you sharper, more empathetic, and better informed. Exploring ideas, morals, ethics, and ideology is healthy. It makes you smarter.

But there is a massive difference between intellectual exploration and governing.

A representative is not elected to endlessly explore ideas. A representative is elected to pick a position, fight for it, and deliver results for their constituents.

When a candidate runs on “seeing both sides” as their core message, what I hear is this: I do not believe strongly in anything, and I am afraid to upset people. That is not leadership. That is paralysis.

You cannot genuinely believe in everything. If you do, you believe in nothing. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one, and in politics, that mindset guarantees the status quo.

Compromise is not a starting position. Compromise is an outcome.

Compromise emerges after people with real convictions fight for what they believe is right. In Congress, in statehouses, and in city councils, compromise happens because people refuse to move unless they get something meaningful. It is forged through tension, not politeness.

Starting from the middle is not wisdom.

I fell into this trap myself early on. When you first run for office, you worry about alienating voters. You worry about sounding too strong. You worry about being labeled. So you soften your language. You talk about unity. You talk about finding common ground. You tell yourself it sounds responsible.

What it really signals is that you have not done the hard work of figuring out what you actually stand for.

Pick any serious issue and try to legislate from a place of deliberate vagueness. You end up pleasing no one, changing nothing, and preserving a system everyone claims to hate. That is how we get endless gridlock paired with endless campaigning.

Understanding opposing arguments is not weakness. Changing your mind when evidence demands it is not weakness. Running for office without firm convictions is. Oh… being “against the other person” is not a conviction.

There is also a difference between two kinds of centrists. One kind looks at the best ideas on the left and the right and deliberately chooses policies that work, even if that angers partisans. That takes courage. The other kind avoids conflict entirely. They call themselves independent but cannot articulate a position without retreating into platitudes. They are easily swayed because they never anchored themselves to anything solid.

Those are not the people you want representing you when decisions actually matter.

Leadership requires accepting that some people will never vote for you. It requires standing up to donors, party structures, and loud minorities. It requires the courage to say, “This is what I believe, and this is what I will fight for,” even when it costs you politically.

Being nice to everyone is not political skill. Avoiding hard stances is not strategy. Shaking hands and kissing babies without being able to clearly articulate your positions is not savvy. Voters see through it, even if they cannot always explain why.

If you want to hold office, you owe people clarity. You owe them conviction. You owe them the honesty to say what you believe and the backbone to defend it. Shit… you owe it to yourself.

Exploration belongs in classrooms and conversations. Governing requires decisions.

If you cannot pick a position and stand on it, you are not ready to represent anyone.