Judgment

Humans universally possess some measure of intelligence and agency. We’re supposed to use both. But like most of the best superpowers, there are rules about when, and with whom we use them. Our judgment is no different.

Is it ever appropriate to stop using our intelligence? Even if it were possible, I suggest that it’s unwise. So how does intelligence differ from judgment? We measure, estimate, and anticipate nearly constantly. We guess how long it will take to get from A to B in rush hour traffic. We round up our grocery spending. We try to fit other people into our plans. . . See, it’s when we start adding people to our physics that things get ethically strained. We need to understand whom to trust, when to be suspicious, when to be self-reliant, or when to let someone else help us. Understanding others, and anticipating how they will act or react is a lifetime’s study for anyone with ambitions for peacemaking, for safety, or for showing love. But sizing someone up – isn’t that judging them?  Aren’t all of these things judging people in some form or another? And some of them seem more than morally neutral: some of them are clearly good.

We are intelligent beings who learn empirically. I mean, on a good day. We also have the kind instinct to share our knowledge with others. When we see someone behaving in a way that we know from experience leads to unhappiness, we want to help that person avoid the unhappiness. We warn them out of love the same way you’d say “watch out for the step” and reach out a hand to help a person coming behind you. They are often thankful. Sometimes they are annoyed and feel like you’re being condescending. That’s their choice, and choosing to be annoyed doesn’t make them bad people.

How is “warning” different from “judging”?

Recently my relationship with two other women has been strained to breaking point. As in most relationships at some time, not all of the necessary information has been crossing the gap between us. Misunderstandings, resentments, and bad feelings have been accruing for months, and now I feel like I have lost something valuable. People are of the most value in any life. I did at least three things wrong. I did not verbalize my gratitude often enough. I did not moderate my conversation for people more sensitive than I am. And I did not trust my personal superpowers enough to have the frank conversation we needed before things soured too far.

I made mistakes. I had experiences. These things don’t make me a bad person, they make me a better person than I was before I learned. I mean, I wish I were already a person who, if suddenly transported into myself a year and a half ago, would make better decisions (or make decisions at all, instead of conceding to my nature), but what we believe of hindsight is that in order to make different decisions, we would actually have to be a different person. Enough time will need to pass that I actually change significantly before I can believe that I wouldn’t make exactly the same mistakes again that I made before. And so many mistakes simply must be made before they can change us into better people.

For a long time in that now-poisonous relationship, I have felt judged. Whether the judgments were accurate or not, whether I really am the gluttonous, self-absorbed snot that certain people seem to think me, judging me never even came close to helping me change. Not for a second. It’s the wind and the sun story all over again. They blew and they blew, but I would not take my jacket off, only pull it more tightly around my shoulders. Instead of recognizing my reaction and taking positive action, I let the bad judgment of others bring out more ugliness in me.

So I learned these things:

1)      Bad judgment is seeing in someone a single fault (or constellation of faults) that overrides in your mind any good they may possess. Judging makes you unable to recognize a thousand-dollar antique because you keep tripping over it in the dark.

2)      Warning someone is giving that person information – and a fair chance to use it – without thinking you are better than that person, and without trying to take away that person’s right or ability to choose. To a sensitive person, telling the difference between someone who reaches out a hand because they’ve been where you are, and someone who thinks only idiots make your kinds of mistakes is easier than choosing between chocolate and dirt. Don’t be surprised if they throw it back in your face.

3)      And I learn that it takes the sweetest and most root-canal kind of humility to take off your jacket when the wind is howling. But it’s possible if you always remember the warmth of the sun on your back. I need to use agency to make decisions: don’t let the weather override your power to choose.