The Day I Was Compared to Hitler

“In essence, that makes you no better than Hitler.”

It’s been about three years since a colleague said this to me during an informal dinner.

This was someone I liked and respected—and still do.

He didn’t say it to be mean or to hurt me; he was making a point.

We had stumbled onto the topic of idealism versus realism, and for a moment, his logic felt terrifyingly sound.

If you’ve followed me for a while or seen my LinkedIn profile, you know I label myself an idealist. To me, it’s an intuitive word. It means believing the world can be better than it is today. It’s the "optimism" of Simon Sinek or the "possibilism" of Caroline Pauwels—a grounded, hopeful conviction that we can shape the future through radical positivity.

But that remark haunted me.

I didn’t want a label on my profile that was inherently "wrong" or dangerous.

So, I started reading.

I learned that in philosophy, the tension is fundamental.

Realism is the belief that the world exists independently of us; it is what it is, whether we like it or not. Idealism, however, suggests that reality is shaped by our minds, perceptions, and ideas.

The danger my colleague pointed out lies in the "extreme" version of idealism: when a person becomes so consumed by a vision of a "perfect world" that they begin to ignore the messy, human reality right in front of them. When the ideal becomes more important than the person, humanity is lost. That is where the comparison to history’s darkest dictators stems from.

Through this journey, I realized that I am—and need to be—a bit of both.

There are moments when I must embrace the realist in me.

I have to accept the raw facts: that a day only has 24 hours, that tragedy can strike without reason, and that sometimes, original plans must be scrapped because the reality of grief or circumstance demands it. Realism is my anchor.

Yet, I refuse to let go of my idealism.

I want my choices to be guided by a compass of love, connection, and the principle of do no harm.

The crucial difference, I’ve realized, lies in freedom.

A dangerous idealist tries to force the world into a mold.

They sacrifice the individual for the "greater good."

For me, being an idealist means my values are a compass for my actions, not a cage for someone else.

True humanity is recognizing that others have the freedom to be different, to disagree, or to follow their own path.

My vision for a better world only has value if it is built on the freedom of the people living in it.

I’m keeping the label.

I am an idealist—but one with a realist’s heart and a deep respect for the freedom of others.