Radical moderation: The revolution nobody asked for, but we all need

“The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.”

The quote above is often attributed to Bertrand Russell, even though he never wrote those exact words. Yet it captures the sentiment of his 1933 essay The Triumph of Stupidity, in which he warned against fascism’s rise and the peculiar danger of people brimming with false confidence.

That warning feels even sharper today. Scroll through social media, listen to political talk shows, or wander into almost any online debate, and you will see the same pattern; fools and fanatics confidently declaring they have all the answers, while people who think deeply hedge and agonize over the complexity of it all.

Psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger famously studied this very paradox. Their work, published in 1999, explained why those with the least knowledge often display the most certainty — a phenomenon now known as the Dunning-Kruger Effect. And it all began, oddly enough, with a man named McArthur Wheeler and a bottle of lemon juice.

In 1995, Wheeler robbed two banks in Pittsburgh with lemon juice smeared on his face. Why lemon juice? He believed it would make him invisible to surveillance cameras — the same way lemon juice can be used as invisible ink. He even smiled at the cameras, delighted by his supposed brilliance. When the police caught him within hours, he was stunned: “But I wore the juice!”

Wheeler’s misadventure perfectly illustrates Dunning and Kruger’s insight; ignorance isn’t just a lack of knowledge; it often comes wrapped in misplaced certainty. Or put more simply: the less you know, the more likely you are to think you’re a genius.

This brings us back to today. Our public sphere is increasingly dominated by the Wheelers of the world — people who, armed with a meme, a slogan, or a half-read Wikipedia entry, are ready to shout down anyone who disagrees. Meanwhile, those who understand complexity grow quieter, doubting themselves, reluctant to enter the fray.

Social media amplifies the confident and drowns the cautious. It is no wonder polarization feels like the only game in town.

There is nothing new about the polarization that we see today. What is probably new is that we are coming from an era of dreams crushed as we wake up to the reality that the global playing field wasn’t as flat as American political commentator Thomas Friedman suggested in his 2005 book The World Is Flat; history didn’t end as Francis Fukuyama suggested in his famous 1992 book The End of History and the Last Man and the “Masters of the Universe” of finance weren’t more than simply human beings with very human flaws who are ultimately subject to the same cognitive limitations as any person.

The intellectual hangover came with a rude awakening: financial crashes, endless wars, pandemics, populism, and climate alarms. Confidence turned to disillusionment. Into that vacuum poured the loudest voices, the ones most certain of themselves — the political equivalent of McArthur Wheeler grinning at the camera with lemon juice dripping down his chin.

But here’s the twist; what we need is not more radicalism, but radical moderation.

Not passivity, not mushy centrism, but a deliberate, almost defiant embrace of reasonableness. In an age of piercing certainty, moderation itself becomes a radical act.

Radical moderation doesn’t mean splitting the difference between extremes.

It means rejecting the cult of certainty and admitting complexity. It insists that reasonableness, compromise, and pluralism are not boring relics but tools for survival.

Radical moderation calls for rethinking how we reward voices in the public square.

Today, social media platforms privilege outrage, not nuance. Our politics rewards slogans, not problem-solving.

The moderates — the ones who hesitate, qualify, and ask annoying followup questions — are left looking indecisive while the truly reckless steal the spotlight.

History suggests moderation, when radicalized, can save democracies.

Open societies endure not because one side dominates forever, but because rules, institutions, and compromises keep the extremes from tearing everything apart.

Moderation doesn’t mean complacency, it means adapting to complexity.

And here lies the punchline of radical moderation: the very people who doubt themselves are exactly the ones we need in charge. Because doubt tempers hubris. Because uncertainty bears caution. Because acknowledging limits prevents the delusion of invincibility.

McArthur Wheeler thought he had discovered invisibility in a bottle of lemon juice. He became immortal not for his success, but for his failure.

He reminds us, in his ridiculous way, that confidence without competence is a recipe for disaster. The same lesson applies to companies, to leaders, to nations. The louder they proclaim certainty, the more we should reach for the lemon juice test.

Radical moderation may never be flashy. It may never trend on Twitter. But if fools and fanatics are running on the fumes of false confidence, then the rest of us need to get radical about reason.

In times like these, moderation isn’t the boring middle ground — it’s the only ground worth fighting for.

Martin Wayngarten is a chartered financial analyst and entrepreneur. He lives in Winnipeg.