I'm part of the mushball middle. I consider 'confused' the

Hear the voice of Al Franken, who once spoke with candor and humility: “I’m part of the mushball middle. I consider ‘confused’ the majority position because, thankfully, most people would rather be uncertain some of the time than 100% positive all the time—even when they’re wrong.” These words, wrapped in humor, reveal a truth that is as ancient as philosophy itself—that doubt, though mocked by the proud, is the companion of wisdom. To admit confusion is not weakness, but a recognition of the vastness of truth and the limits of our own sight.

The origin of this statement lies in Franken’s career as both satirist and statesman, one who stood in the crossroads of laughter and law. He had seen the arrogance of politics, where men proclaim themselves infallible, clinging to certainty even as they lead others astray. Against this arrogance, Franken raised the banner of humility. He embraced the so-called “mushball middle”—the space where people wrestle with questions, weigh both sides, and refuse the intoxication of absolute certainty. His jest is in fact a lesson: the world is too complex for rigid dogma, and too sacred for unyielding pride.

History is rich with examples that echo this truth. Consider Socrates, the sage of Athens, who declared, “I know that I know nothing.” Though accused of corrupting the youth with doubt, his humility before truth made him greater than his accusers. Socrates, like Franken, understood that to be uncertain is far nobler than to be confidently wrong. His refusal to trade doubt for false certainty cost him his life, yet it gave birth to philosophy itself. In his story we see that confusion, honestly acknowledged, is the seed of wisdom.

Franken’s words also remind us of the danger of false certainty. For history is scarred by those who were “100% positive” in their error. Tyrants and zealots have marched under banners of unshakable conviction, leaving destruction in their wake. The Inquisitors who silenced voices in the name of truth, the ideologues who crushed nations in pursuit of a perfect order—all were absolutely sure, and all were tragically wrong. Against such examples, the hesitant, questioning spirit of the “mushball middle” is not weakness but salvation.

Yet this embrace of confusion does not mean surrender to apathy. To be uncertain is not to drift aimlessly, but to recognize complexity, to question, to listen, and to learn. It is the courage to admit: “I do not fully know, but I will seek.” This is not the apathy of the careless, but the humility of the wise. It allows dialogue to flourish, compromise to be found, and truth to emerge not from one voice but from the chorus of many.

The lesson for us is clear: beware of those who claim perfect certainty in all things. Trust more those who admit the limits of their knowledge, who are willing to weigh, to wrestle, to change their minds. For in life, as in politics, the world is too tangled for simple answers. The heart that embraces uncertainty walks closer to truth than the mouth that boasts of certainty in error.

Practically, this means cultivating humility in our own decisions. When confronted with a choice, do not be ashamed to hesitate, to ask, to seek counsel. Welcome dialogue with those who differ from you, for it is in the tension of perspectives that wisdom is born. Do not cling to being right at all costs, but cling instead to the pursuit of truth, even if it leaves you “confused” for a season.

So let Franken’s words echo as a guide: “Most people would rather be uncertain some of the time than 100% positive all the time—even when they’re wrong.” This is not a call to weakness, but to strength. For the strongest are not those who boast of certainty, but those who dare to stand in the middle ground, wrestling with doubt, and striving—through humility and patience—to glimpse the light of wisdom.