What We Get Wrong About The Middle Ground
What We Get Wrong About The Middle Ground
Finding compromise requires recognizing the full context of a negotiation.
In 2015, Ruth Bader Ginsberg delivered this iconic line to an audience at Georgetown University: "People ask me sometimes ... When will there be enough women on the court? And my answer is when there are nine."
Nine women on the Supreme Court would mean a court made up exclusively of women. Unthinkable, right? Except that the Supreme Court had been made up entirely of men (all but one being white) until 1981 when Sandra Day O'Connor joined the court. RBG's comments flew in the face of the idea that progress is a negotiation—little by little, we can move past the harms of history and toward a proper balance.
Many who are happy with the way things are—in government, boardrooms, marriages, and beyond—see a compromise between the status quo and something more equitable as an ideal outcome. The moderate position means continuing to endure harm or exclusion so those who benefit from the status quo don't have to 'give up' more than they're comfortable with.
This is a political issue, yes. But it's the kind of small-p political issue that impacts our closest relationships, workspaces, and families.
People with power and privilege often ask those with less power and privilege to meet them in the middle. The powerful and privileged will say there has to be a balance. But what exactly would balance mean? When one person or group has already given so much to get where they are, why does balance mean giving even more?
What is the balance between the weight of injustice and the privilege to ignore it?
These questions might seem unwieldy within the context of social relations and the realm of work or business. However, the same dynamics are at play whenever we negotiate a boundary, expectation, or norm in any relationship. From who helps with the kids’ homework or cleans the toilets to whether cameras can be turned off in Zoom meetings or emails should be responded to on weekends, what feels like a simple compromise to one party might be yet another burden to bear by the other party.
I've been asked about finding middle ground—both in a work context and in a relationship context—a few times lately. And so I've had the opportunity to think critically about the concept of the middle ground and how we negotiate our relationships. So today, I want to explore what we get wrong about finding the middle ground—and how we can make sense of unbalanced social negotiations at work and beyond.
Relationships are a series of negotiations
At some level, we're always figuring out how to live and work with the people around us. In other words, relationships are a series of negotiations. Most are subconscious—governed by experience, self-knowledge, knowledge of the other, and norms. But when there's a conflict—out in the open or unacknowledged—the negotiation process becomes more active. We have to think about where the other person is coming from, what they want, where we're coming from, and what we want.
The object of negotiation is to make a compromise—to find the middle ground:
The aim, and the only outcome to which any [party] should agree, is an improvement—from their own point of view—of the situation they face before the negotiations start (or in other words, an improvement over the alternative to agreement).
— From the United Nations’ Fundamentals of Negotiation
With the goal of compromise in mind, we often imagine that successful negotiation means finding the halfway point between two conflicting positions. The balance. All things being equal, that might be true. But all things are rarely equal.
Recognizing unequal negotiating positions is critical to both international relations and social relations. Our cultural and social norms are rooted in inequality, injustice, and exploitation. Even in realms where we've made significant progress, we can fall back on gender, class, racial, or ethnic roles that put unequal expectations on the 'negotiating' parties.
What's more, social norms around negotiation dictate that when you and I want different things, we both give a little to get some of what we both want. But those same social norms obfuscate how much one party might have already given just to get to the table. Negotiations present as isolated conflicts rather than the tip of a much larger contextual iceberg.
How far we’ve come
You can’t find the middle ground without determining that context. Allow me to offer a geographical example.
Imagine you're meeting up with someone you met online. Typically, you are prohibitively far from this person—let's say you live in Oregon, and they live in Illinois. But you happen to be in Chicago for a conference, and you both decided this was the perfect time to meet up in the flesh.
Your friend doesn't live in Chicago, though. They live in central Illinois—specifically, in Springfield, the capital. Google Maps tells me it takes a three-hour drive or bus ride to get to Chicago from Springfield. Your friend suggests you meet halfway.
You consider this proposal. You discover that the small town of Pontiac is roughly halfway between Springfield and Chicago. You begin thinking about how you'll get yourself to Pontiac before realizing your friend's suggestion isn't fair.
Pontiac might be halfway between Chicago and Springfield. But it's not halfway between Portland and Springfield. That is, you've already traveled 2000 miles to get to Chicago. Splitting the difference between Chicago and Springfield saddles you with yet another leg of travel on your already long journey.
If this scenario seems a bit silly, it’s because most of us understand this kind of geographic negotiation intuitively. Your friend wouldn’t suggest you travel another hour-and-a-half to the town of Pontiac. They’d say they’ll meet you in Chicago on whatever day you are free. They’d recognize that you’ve traveled far enough already; their relatively short road trip is their part of the compromise. And if they can’t make that work (understandable!), they certainly wouldn’t hold it against you for staying in Chicago.
Meeting in the middle with the people we care about
Now, if you'll forgive the pun, we can map this example onto less concrete negotiations.
I recently did two interviews about autism in one week—the first was with Kate Anthony about being an autistic person married to a non-autistic person, and the other was with Megan Anderson about navigating relationships inside and outside the workplace. In both conversations, some version of the negotiation between what my needs are and what a non-autistic person’s needs are came up: How do you find the middle ground?
In this negotiation, the assumption is often that we’re trying to find the halfway point between where I’m currently at and where the other person is currently at. But this ignores the distance I’ve already traveled. To use our previous example, I’m coming from Portland, Oregon, while the other person is coming from Springfield, Illinois.1 If I’m already in Chicago thanks to an investment of time, energy, and money, I don’t need to travel farther to meet in the middle. I can expect that the other person will put some effort in, too.
For instance, in my marriage, Sean and I have discovered it's much easier for me to talk with him about hairy, emotional topics if I'm not sitting across from him. Ideally, he'd prefer for us to be able to look each other in the eye and discuss important issues. But after more than a decade together, we realized that, in that arrangement, I shut down after just a few minutes. Whereas, if we're sitting side by side in the car or at a bar, I can keep talking even when it's uncomfortable.
Would I rather never discuss emotionally weighty or fraught topics? Totally. Yes, that would make life a lot easier. Would he rather have us bare our souls whilst peering into each other's eyes? You bet. Or rather, that’s the vibe I get! But he's realized that I'm putting in considerable effort just to be present in the conversation—so meeting in the middle means not requiring me to do even more. If we can discuss emotionally weighty issues without me straining to make eye contact and fight through a shutdown, that’s good for both of us.
In less intimate relationships, like those with clients, colleagues, or coworkers, meeting in the middle requires considering who has a headstart by virtue of their identity, neurology, status, class, etc. In almost every social interaction, someone has more ease, privilege, or power—and the other person (or people) has less.
When I'm the person with ease, privilege, or power, I must acknowledge that it's up to me to make up the difference. I have to recognize how far the other person has come already—and do everything I can to put no further burden on them.
When I have less ease, privilege, or power in a situation, I need to stand my ground. I can't hedge on my requests because I've already put in more effort just to get to the negotiation. The other person might balk and ask that we find some middle ground, but I must remember that the middle is already in the rearview mirror. Some needs are non-negotiables precisely because they represent the end of an already lengthy (if unspoken) journey for one of the parties involved.
Final thoughts
We've all been on both sides of these kinds of 'negotiations.' Sometimes, we're the ones with more power, ease, or privilege. Other times, we're the ones with less. When we practice discerning our position, we can act with more empathy toward the other.
If we have power, we can acknowledge the ways that the other person has worked to get to where they're at and the risk they might feel they're taking by asking for anything. If we have less power, we can acknowledge what we've already done to get to the point and that the other might be uncomfortable with what we're asking for.
If we truly want more equitable and inclusive work environments, we have to be curious about what the middle ground truly is. We must ask more from people in power (including ourselves when appropriate). Finally, we must remember that any negotiation or request for accommodation exists within a personal, social, and cultural history that needs to be considered to reach a genuinely balanced resolution.
Want to stand out? You gotta make sense.
That is, when you help people make sense of this confusing world—even in a small way—your message and expertise stand out.
There are just 6 spots left in my next seminar on sensemaking as content creation. Learn more about the program and register!
This is a reductive metaphor, of course. It’s never quite this simple since I often deal with people who have traveled their own journeys.