Judgment and Friendship

“Judge not, that ye be judged,” Jesus; “Who are you to judge me/And the life I live,” Bob Marley; “Who am I to judge,” Pope Francis; “So please don’t judge me/And I won’t judge you,” Chris Brown.

Along with these great luminaries and song-birds, many of my peers have expressed an aversion for judgment and judging. It seems that almost every day I hear the refrain, often accompanied by a shrug or sigh, “but who am I to judge?” or, “well, I don’t want to be judgmental.” However, the general anti-judgment feelings—a distaste for distaste—strike me as odd. Judgment and the judgmental, far from deserving scorn, ought to be appreciated and embraced. Judgment, I hope to show, arises not out of contempt but of compassion, and it is necessary for self-knowledge and improvement.

At this point, before I get into the heart of the matter, I should make clear that I am talking only about judgments made in good faith. This is judgment made with sincere intentions, which I contrast with judgment made for the purpose of making fun, embarrassing, or belittling. Surely there are those who judge only to put others down, and I think we can all agree that such judgments are rebarbative and undesirable.

But what about the judgments, commonly expressed (not exclusively) by our friends, family, and teachers, that clearly are not intended to humiliate? What purpose do they serve, and how should we think of them?

When someone judges me in good faith, he does so because he believes that I am making a mistake: the judgment is meant to both inform me of my error and offer a correction. It indicates the concern the person has for my well being or, at least, for the pernicious effects my wrong action might have on the community in general.

An example might go a long way in illuminating my point. One of my roommates, a Green REP, would judge me if I left my room without turning off the lights. The judgments he would issue (“Hey, if you can remember, it’s really not good to leave your lights on,” or, “You should try to turn your lights off.”) either were motivated by environmental consciousness (a general concern), a desire that I should not turn into a wasteful or thoughtless person (a personal concern), or both. Far from being malicious or taking delight in an opportunity to rebuke me, my friend had a genuine desire to see my behavior corrected.

I could have responded to his judgments in any number of ways—I could have ignored them, lashed out at him, or even have tried to rationalize my behavior. To do any of those, however, would not afford my friend his due share of respect, as it would fail to take seriously his sincere concern and desire. Instead, therefore, I used his judgments as an occasion to evaluate my actions and ultimately change them. Leaving my room, his words began to echo in my ears, and either out of a sense of shame, or a new desire to be more environmentally conscious myself, I started always turning my lights off.

Even when one faces judgment and decides not to change one’s behavior, the criticism still serves a purpose. Judgment makes one aware of exactly what he is doing—so often we act without thought—and forces him to consciously commit to it. It keeps us from going through life without questioning our established practices and habits, and it gives us an opportunity for introspection.

I should also point out that our discomfort with judgment is selective. Who does not judge the boor who speaks endlessly about himself? Or the bigot who hates? Somewhat paradoxically, I am sure most people judge those who refrain from judging the truly obnoxious and nauseous.

And who would want to live in a world where no one judged? In such a place, those callous individuals who do not care to do the right thing, or those who do not know what the right thing to do is, would never be corrected. How many of us have gone out of our way to properly recycle our waste only after we have felt the silent judgment of watching eyes? The other problem with a judgment-free world is what is says about those who could judge but do not. They either have so little confidence in their conception of the good that they are ashamed to offer it to others, or they care so little for their peers that they cannot be troubled to stop their peers from making mistakes, grave or trivial.

Admittedly, I have used benign examples: turning off the lights, recycling, not being boorish. But the point still holds for more controversial examples. When I judge my fellow Jewish friends for not observing the high holidays, I sincerely believe I am doing them a service. When my friends judge me for not using politically correct speech, I know that they are looking out for what they believe to be my well-being. I therefore welcome their judgment. To me, it is a sign of compassion, proof that people care that I live a good life.

Isaac G. Inkeles ’16 is a government concentrator in Leverett House. His column appears on alternate Mondays.