Many definitions have been given of the word compromise, unfortunately often in a negative sense. As always, let the etymology of words guide us, providing a firm hold on their original meaning. The Italian term compromesso comes from Latin and takes the form of the past participle of the verb compromittere, meaning ‘to make a mutual promise’. The sense of coming to terms, towards a resolution of differences through reciprocal concessions, is certainly an appropriate semantic extension. From a philosophical standpoint, in the search for truth, compromise represents the victory of the relative over the absolute. It is that mental instrument of discerning minds which allows thoughts to be painted in shades of nuance, unshackled from the dichotomy of black and white. A sincere exercise in humility.
Drawing on a physical metaphor in the Taoist and mandarin tradition, consider how water can erode even the hardest materials: its power, though not explosive, is unstoppable when one tries to contain it. A shift in paradigm is needed to understand how to restrain such power, a metaphor for every form of human ideological absolutism. Human beings have always sought to reach the highest mountain peaks, in the mistaken belief and admiration that these summits symbolise the attainment of great achievements. This is not so. A mountaintop is an indeterminate point, empty of meaning, rising alone above the world. By contrast, by offering no resistance and conforming to the laws of the world, valleys are the true winners of the contest. They alone are traversed by that unstoppable element, water, which they can control by accommodating its nature and ‘persuading its course’, without imposing one. The same paradigm is vital when facing human disagreements. If we can set aside the pride that seeks to demonstrate our strength by imposing an outcome on others, the same objective can be pursued by entirely different routes. A great general is not the one who wins the war, but the one who convinces the adversary of the futility of the conflict itself. This is precisely where the art of compromise comes in. Reasoned yielding is a victory of a higher order.
Compromise is called an art, not a science: there is a precise underlying reason for this distinction. However much one might wish to reduce human nature to a mechanistic, rigid and mathematical framework, it cannot, at least so far, be the subject of exact calculations. We are in the realm of probability and uncertainty, where intuition and approximation reign. In human affairs, the reasonableness of practical reason surpasses the rationality of pure reason. Compromise thus reveals itself as the guardian of plurality, banishing every form of partisanship. We must recognise how utopian idealism, which in human history has fashioned the worst social and political aberrations, needs to be schooled through an exercise in mature realism. Absolute freedom, a concept dear to utopia, is compelled by the material world to reckon with its relative nature, because it conflicts with necessity, contingency and the ‘particulare’ associated with Guicciardini. The Israeli professor Avishai Margalit argues that people should be judged by their compromises rather than by their ideals. Ideals can indeed tell us something important about what we would like to be. But it is our compromises that can tell us who we really are.
Compromise recedes as opinions become polarised, increasingly alien and inscrutable to one another. We can thus understand how democracy is the product of a compromise between minorities and the majority, in contrast to absolutisms that strip those who differ of all dignity. Only a sensibility capable of compromise befits a great statesman, who can never be wholly partisan. Kissinger emphasises that ‘Realpolitik for Bismarck depended on flexibility and on the ability to exploit every available option, without the constraints of ideology’. It is no accident that a distinction is drawn between party men and men of institutions. The latter retain a strong sense of the state and its constitutional principles. Refusing to compromise is a veiled declaration that one is abdicating the responsibility to make decisions, which in politics amounts to a serious inability to govern. A truly dialectical intellect can never be demagogic or abstract; rather, it will always respect complexity. Let us take heed of Gianni Letta's words, according to which the task of politics is ‘to seek through compromise that point of balance which can represent the highest general interest, namely the common good’.
The accompanying illustration in the original article, L'éminence grise by Jean-Léon Gérôme, depicts François Leclerc du Tremblay, a French Capuchin friar, confidant and adviser to the celebrated Cardinal Richelieu. The term ‘grey eminence’ derives from the colour of the Father's habit, typical of Capuchin friars. This figure exemplifies those great statesmen who have been able to draw on the concept of compromise.