There is a schoolyard maxim, a small coming-of-age truth, that at some point you must punch the bully in the face. Once done, life improves. It is inspirational, if not universally practical.
One lesson, however, does seem durable: giving the bully everything he wants is a guarantee of failure.
Bullies often prefer emotional victories to physical ones. They win whenever they convince others that every response must be on their terms.
The harder lesson is that surrender and confrontation are not the only choices. Somewhere between them lies a narrow ground—difficult to find, difficult to hold, and often the only place from which lasting success is possible.
The last few weeks have offered several reminders.
We learned that the law firms that settled early with the administration—a moment of apparent momentum for the White House, given those firms’ influence and proximity—now face extensive reporting requirements on their compliance. Firms that declined to settle face no such burden and, so far, have fared well.
It is an old lesson: appeasement rarely ends pressure. More often, it simply changes its terms.
Then there is Gianni Infantino.
The FIFA president embraced Trump enthusiastically, even presenting him with FIFA’s own peace award and cultivating a close public relationship. Yet accommodation did not spare him from controversy. Instead, he found himself presiding over a World Cup marked by political distractions: visitors who did not feel welcome, political intervention into officiating, and a closing ceremony overshadowed by Trump’s attempt to insert himself into the celebration. Infantino now spends much of his time defending his decisions and blaming critics rather than accepting responsibility.
Accommodation bought him little.
Ukraine offers a different model.
Its struggle against Russia continues with more momentum than many imagined a year ago. On several occasions, President Volodymyr Zelensky could have capitulated to Trump, who urged him to surrender Ukrainian territory, or he could have openly rejected him, risking isolation while Ukraine remained heavily dependent on Western support.
Instead, Zelensky refused to let others dictate Ukraine’s strategy. He neither yielded nor provoked. He defended his country’s interests without losing the alliance upon which its survival depended. It is the kind of disciplined restraint that keeps nations alive.
And then there is Kaitlan Collins.
Honored at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, she endured Trump’s insults in person—the most powerful man on earth attempting to diminish her before her peers. Yet she neither returned insult for insult nor retreated. She continued doing what journalists are supposed to do: ask difficult questions, listen to the answers, and ask again when those answers proved inadequate.
Bullies thrive on emotional reaction.
Professionalism denies them that victory.
It is difficult to extract universal lessons from these years. Many who have stood up to Trump—Republican officials, journalists, foreign leaders, and private citizens—have seen their careers damaged or ended. Courage carries a price; that is why we call it courage.
But showing no courage at all carries a price as well, and that one is certain.
Bullies seek more than obedience. They want to write the script—to decide not only whether others resist, but how they resist. Their greatest victory is convincing people that they have no choice but to play the bully’s game.
The most effective resistance is not always dramatic. Sometimes it is strategic restraint. Sometimes it is quiet professionalism. Sometimes it is simply refusing to let the bully decide the terms of your conduct.
That narrow ground is difficult to occupy.
History suggests it is often the strongest ground of all.