There's a personality trait known as agreeableness. Agreeable

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Jordan Peterson: “There’s a personality trait known as agreeableness. Agreeable people are compassionate and polite. And agreeable people get paid less than disagreeable people for the same job. Women are more agreeable than men.” In these words lies both a description of human nature and a lament of the world’s harshness. It is not simply a commentary on economics, but a revelation of the eternal tension between kindness and power, between compassion and ambition.

The meaning is both sharp and sorrowful. To be agreeable—to be gentle, compassionate, and polite—is a virtue in human relationships, a trait that fosters harmony and peace. Yet in the hard-edged arena of labor, business, and negotiation, such virtues may be exploited. The disagreeable, those who demand, who argue, who fight for their share, often take more. Thus the paradox arises: those who bring kindness into the world may themselves receive less, while those who contend fiercely often seize greater reward. This is not a judgment of worth, but an observation of how societies often value strength of will over gentleness of heart.

The origin of this truth can be traced through the history of negotiation and leadership. From the markets of ancient Greece to the courts of medieval kings, it has often been the bold and the contentious who secured wealth and recognition. Yet this was not always the path to greatness. For though the disagreeable may win gold, the agreeable often win loyalty, trust, and love. And so history has always been a struggle between these traits, each carrying its own form of reward and its own form of cost.

Consider, for example, Florence Nightingale. In an age when women were seldom granted authority, she led with compassion, reshaping the field of nursing. Her agreeableness, her gentleness, became her power, but it came at a cost—she was dismissed by many men of influence, and her authority was questioned because she led with heart rather than command. Yet her legacy outlives them all. On the other hand, figures like Niccolò Machiavelli advised rulers to favor ruthlessness, for the disagreeable, he claimed, would hold power longer. Thus the truth is twofold: the agreeable may lose in coin, but they often gain in legacy.

Peterson’s words also reveal a deeper wound: that women, being often more agreeable, bear this imbalance more heavily. The working world, built on negotiation and confrontation, often rewards the traits associated with men, while undervaluing the strengths more common in women. This is not fate, but structure, a system that tilts its rewards toward contention rather than compassion. His statement is not to diminish women, but to call attention to an imbalance that echoes through generations.

The lesson, O listener, is mighty. If you are agreeable, know both the strength and the danger of your nature. Kindness is a gift to the world, but it may cost you unless you learn to temper it with firmness. If you are disagreeable, beware the temptation of pride, for though the world may reward you, you risk losing the gentleness that binds souls together. And if you are a woman, know that the world may test you unfairly, but also know that your power lies not only in compassion, but in learning when to wield firmness without losing kindness.

Therefore, in practice, learn to balance. Do not abandon agreeableness, for it brings light to human bonds, but do not allow it to become weakness that others exploit. Train yourself to speak when silence would cost you, to stand firm when compassion is mistaken for surrender. In this way, you unite the strengths of both paths, and rise above the limits imposed by society. For as Peterson teaches, the world often rewards the disagreeable, but the wise will learn to weave kindness with courage, gentleness with strength, and in doing so, claim both reward and legacy.