October 1950 — Vol. 31, No. 10 — On Criticism
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Every person, and particularly
every business person, should know two things about criticism
- how to give it and how to take it.
Neither is an easy art. We are likely to be very pert at
criticizing others, and reluctant to accept their advice.
There are many kinds and degrees of criticism. The business
man out of whose good judgment there comes a suggestion for
a change in method of production, is displaying a constructive
kind of criticism. The man in high position who finds relief
from his personal worry by making continual complaints, and
the executive who constantly finds fault with the office boy,
are using a very low form of criticism.
Criticism can be used and met constructively or destructively.
It can be the means by which men receiving it climb, or it
can be used to bolster the critic's vanity.
Criticism in its highest sense means trying to learn the
best that is known and thought in the world, and measuring
things by that standard.
But let us look at the other kinds. Captious criticism takes
note of trivial faults; its author is usually unduly exacting
or perversely hard to please. Carping criticism implies a
perverse picking of flaws. Cavilling criticism stresses the
habit of raising petty objections. Censorious criticism means
a tendency to be severely condemnatory of that which one does
not like.
Ordinary faultfinding seems to indicate less background
and experience than the word criticism implies. It is wholly
concerned with tearing down and scolding.
There are several grades of criticism involved when we talk
about art, literature and music. An essay which tells one's
opinion about a work of art may be a critique. a review, a
blurb or a puff.
In art, true criticism implies expert knowledge in the field,
a clear standard of judgment, and a desire to evaluate the
work under consideration. A review permits less exhaustive
or profound treatment, giving in general a summary of book
contents and the impressions it produces on the reviewer.
A blurb is a short fulsome essay, usually a publisher's description
of a work, printed on the jacket of a book to advertise it.
"Puff" became common in the eighteenth century to describe
an unduly flattering account of a book, play, or work of art.
Silence is sometimes the severest criticism, not only in
the world of literature and art but in the world of business.
How to Criticize
Perhaps the first lesson in learning to meet criticism is
to learn how to criticize intelligently.
In its best sense, criticism implies an effort to see a
thing clearly and truly, distinguishing the good from the
bad in it, and seeing the whole of it fairly in its proper
setting.
There are some hints about criticizing which can be observed
by both business men and critics of literary works. Socrates
observed a good principle: Before starting to criticize a
person's actions, I stop and ask how I measure up beside him
in the things which I criticize. Dale Carnegie suggests that
we start with praise and honest appreciation, and, on occasion,
call attention to people's shortcomings indirectly.
Criticism should have good manners and honesty, coupled
with a sense of personal dignity, but it needs proportion,
too. The objective should be appraised. All one's big guns
should not be brought to bear in case of a minor peeve. It
is not worth the same effort to capture a flock of sheep as
to lay low a great army.
When the purpose of criticism is to reform what one believes
to be a wrong, particular care is needed. Reform refers to
two distinct individuals: self and somebody else. It usually
means making over our neighbour's conduct to conform to our
own ideas of conduct. In fact, many people seem to think that
their duty to society consists in considering and deciding
what other people ought to do. For A to sit down and think:
"What shall I do?" is commonplace; but to decide what B ought
to do is interesting, romantic, self—flattering, and
public spirited all at once.
Even the most tolerant man has difficulty in refraining
from being a bit irritated at the social superiority assumed
by the habitual social critic. If you do not agree with the
critic you are lacking in sensitiveness, and belong to the
morally "great unwashed." If you tell him that to your way
of thinking the grandest thing in the world a man can do is
to educate himself, mind his own business, and take care of
his family, you are said by the critic to be lacking in public
spirit.
Another aggravating kind of criticism is the backhanded
kind. The favourite word of these critics is "but". Their
method goes something like this: "The author presents a thoughtful,
high—calibre article, full of meat and inspiration, but..."
A good example is that of Sir Fretful Plagiary in Sheridan's
play The Critic. Sir Fretful says: "I say nothing -
I take away from no man's merit - am hurt at no man's good
fortune - I say nothing. But this I will say..."
Philosophy of Criticism
There can be pleasure in criticism, both taking and receiving
it. A talk between two men of similar taste, just and sympathetic,
critical yet appreciative, is a high intellectual pleasure.
Even if one is hurt in such an encounter, one learns.
No one really escapes criticism, and the more eminent one
is the more criticism may be expected. That is a price one
pays for holding a distinguished position. It is, as Addison
said in his essay on Censure, folly to think of escaping it
and weakness to be affected by it. There is no defence but
obscurity.
If you wish to avoid criticism, shun employers who are given
to checking up the qualities of their workers; undertake only
such duties as you can readily perform; always double check
to make sure you are doing what other people want you to do.
The man who consistently dodges criticism may be counted on
as a business pigmy, but he may be happier so.
Who is a critic? Few of us will step out in answer to the
invitation. The truth is that we are all critics. The woman
who dislikes the cut of her neighbour's dress or the way she
brings up her children is a critic. The man who calls an employee
on to the carpet for neglect of business or who tunes out
one radio programme in favour of another, is a critic. This
woman and this man are discriminating according to their personal
preferences, their individual standards.
This, of course, implies judging. There are some who say
it is ridiculous for anyone to criticize the work or actions
of another unless he has distinguished himself by his own
performances, and others who say no one has any right to set
himself up as a standard by which to judge others.
These two objections would seem to rule out all criticism
whatsoever, but they really point only to a need for great
discretion. Epictetus, the Roman philosopher of the first
century, gave this sage advice: "Doth a man bathe himself
quickly? Then say not wrongly; but quickly.
Doth he drink much wine? Then say not wrongly, but
much. For whence do you know if it were ill done till
you have understood his opinion? Thus it shall not befall
you to assent to any other things than those whereof you are
truly and directly sensible."
The Written Word
Writing is made difficult by the fact that it is closest
of all the fine arts to our ordinary experience. It bears
the burden of the difficulty of communication of ideas in
regard to the humdrum as well as the most exalted matters.
Many a writer has bitten his pencil in two with his teeth,
struggling with the shades of meanings of words, in despair
of ever saying exactly what is in his mind. And a critic is
sure to appear with the precise word needed.
Another hazard in writing, of the business kind as well
as of the professional kind, is the lack of information in
the reader's mind about the conditions surrounding the writer.
A business man, for example, writes a letter, then he moves
on to new experiences and to other letters on different topics.
When a critic writes to tell what is wrong in the first letter,
the business man has a feeling of irrelevance. Did I write
that? How odd. Today the problem is altered; the circumstances
aren't the same. How could so—and—so know the troubles
I had that day?
Thoughtless critics see what is before them, and do not
take the time or use their intelligence to assay what was
written in the spirit of the person who wrote it. So, when
you receive a letter of criticism it is well to remember that
it was written in ignorance of the circumstances you know
of - or it may simply have been written to give the writer
a feeling of importance, or lift him out of a sense of inadequacy.
The business man, or anyone else who writes things for people
to read, should be under no delusion. He may have matured
into self—reliance, self—criticism and self—understanding,
but when he writes for others he invites their criticism,
he exposes himself to it, and there is no escaping it.
What is Fair Criticism?
Fair criticism implies a desire on the part of the critic
to judge with clarity and say with honesty what he believes
to be true. His judgment will be based upon his own experiences,
his disappointments, his burned fingers, and his beliefs.
At the same time, he will make an effort to get the other
fellow's point of view and take the gentle and indulgent side
of most questions.
Particularly should the business executive see the good
qualities in a man or a proposition before pronouncing on
the bad features. Thomas Carlyle says truthfully in his essay
on Burns: "The ship comes into harbour with shrouds and tackle
damaged; the pilot is blameworthy; he has not been all—wise
and all—powerful. But to know how blameworthy,
tell us first whether his voyage has been round the globe,
or only to Ramsgate and the Isle of Dogs."
Fair criticism does not judge without factual information.
It considers the event on which it is to pass judgment in
the light of these factors: what was said or done? what did
the person mean to say or do? what was his reason for saying
or doing it? what is the effect of what he said or did? why
do I object to it?
Fair criticism does not exaggerate. All but a few whimsical
persons seem to be urged either to overstate things by one
hundred per cent or to understate them by fifty per cent,
in order to criticize them better. It does not constitute
fair criticism of an opponent who seems rather dull to call
him a "gibbering maniac." We must admit, if we are to be fair
critics, that we resent a few little things which happen to
irritate us more than we appreciate a great deal for which
we ought to be grateful, and govern our criticism accordingly.
Fair criticism means taking every precaution to be correct.
It is not so serious when a mistake causes only the doer to
suffer, as when Lord Byron the critic thought Childe Harold,
the product of Lord Byron the author, was useless, and gave
it away. But when a mistake involves a victim, that is serious.
Fair criticism does not include common gossip. Gossip may
be merely friendly talking, or useless chatter, but it too
often degenerates Into mischievous comment on neighbours or
business associates.
Good Criticism
Having told, then, about what is not fair criticism, it
behooves us to consider the constructive quality of good criticism.
Our judgments should be positive, not shaken and carried
away by casual commendation or censure of others. Knowledge,
up—to—date and accurate, must be the critic's great
concern for himself. His question about every case should
be, not whether it is good or bad, but whether it is supported
by facts.
The ideal critic would know the topic, he would be dispassionate
in weighing the evidence, he would have ability to see clearly
what follows from the facts, he would be willing to reconsider
the facts, if that seemed advisable, and he would have courage
to follow his thoughts through to the bitter end. He would
not, in all this process, brush aside the help of advisors.
He would retain a keen and lively consciousness of truth.
In making his criticism known, the ideal critic would have
regard for the feelings of the other fellow. Courtesy is easily
the best single quality to raise one - even a critic - above
the crowd. Mrs. Thrale, biographer to Dr. Johnson, sounds
the keynote when she says of her distinguished friend's disposal
of someone whose work he did not like: "He undeceived him
very gently indeed."
Charming ways are quick winners. When an end is sought,
why browbeat and shout and storm if one can persuade? The
critic who is judicial in his approach to the matter, bland
in his manner of debate, and soft—spoken in his judgment,
can be a far more forceful critic than the one who blusters.
The good critic will not force the person he criticizes
too far. It is always good strategy to let the other fellow
save his face.
About Meeting Criticism
If we are on the receiving end of criticism, we must school
ourselves to rise above all that is petty and to accept and
use what is worth while. There are times to fight back, but
these must not be decided by inclination but by answering
the question, after searching consideration of the criticism:
Is it right?
The fatal blight that strikes some persons under criticism
is to develop a feeling of persecution. Criticisms are not
to be measured by the degree in which they hurt, nor by the
motives of the critics, but by their rightness.
We have our individual "tender spots". We will take all
manner of abuse in many sectors of our lives, but usually
there is one where the least breath of criticism hurts. It
was revealed at the Nuremberg trial of war criminals that
Goering, number two Nazi, could accept calmly criticism of
the murder of millions as a military or political expedient,
but broke into anger when accused of lying.
One calming thought for most of us when subjected to criticism
might be: he little knew my other vices, or he would not have
mentioned only these.
Complaint Letters
No excuse is needed for paying some attention to the answering
of business complaints, because every complaint is a criticism
that must be met.
There is this difference between criticism and complaint:
I may criticize you as a car driver because of your
disregard of others' rights, but I complain of you
when you drive over my lawn and upset my treasured flower
urn.
Business men would rather receive complaints than have customers
abandon them and trade elsewhere. Not all business houses
subscribe to the slogan: "the customer is always right," but
practically every one will say: "the customer is entitled
to a fair deal."
When it becomes evident to a complaining customer that the
business firm is trying to treat him fairly, he is likely
to be won over to staunch support and vocal endorsement of
the firm.
There are two ways of meeting a business complaint: (1)
get angry, bristle and growl; (2) try to capitalize on the
complaint.
The first is so obviously wrong that nothing need be said
in detail about it. If you are in business, you know that
growling never won an order, being angry never settled a dispute
in your favour, and telling a man (in whatever circumlocution
of language) that he is a fool never satisfied a complaint.
There are three principal points to think of in writing
a good answer to a complaint:
(1) Make your critic feel that you are taking his complaint
seriously; (2) Go as far as you honestly can toward meeting
the complaint; (3) If the critic is quite wrong, be honest
and sincere in answering him, in restrained and proper language.
Ten to one he will accept your explanation.
A good answer to a complaint will always make it evident
that the firm does not object to receiving complaints, but
looks upon them as opportunities to serve customers. Never
let the customer glean the idea that you are giving him the
run—around. Suavity and soft soap may settle your correspondent's
blood pressure, but they do not settle complaints.
A dishonest approach is bound to be detected. Far better
go into the complaint in detail, show the facts, and go as
far as you can toward meeting the customer's wishes. In some
cases of complaint, even though the customer be wrong in his
expectations of what the goods or services would do for him,
there may be enough good—will derived from giving him
the benefit of the doubt to more than compensate for the cost
of settlement. Whether allowing the claim or rejecting it,
thank the customer for telling you about it.
If your firm is to blame, admit it in the first paragraph
of your letter, frankly and with an expression of regret.
When the customer is at fault, show him that you have sifted
the evidence thoroughly. Be sympathetic and understanding,
without fawning. Tell him all the facts in the case, so that
he will see without your saying it in so many words that he
was wrong. Explain cheerfully, not grudgingly, what you intend
to do, and give him suggestions which will save him from annoyance
like this in future.
There are, of course, chronic complainers. They carp about
the service they get in street cars, trains, stores and banks.
Nothing satisfies them; a conciliatory adjustment letter merely
sets them off on another bout of complaint. There is not much
of a constructive nature you can do in dealing with such people,
but you must not allow them to make you callous, or drive
you into snapping at all complaints.
Even Enemies Help Us
It is likely correct to say that we resent criticism because
it might be true, or because it lowers our dignity. Yet it
is because a criticism usually contains at least a grain of
truth that it is valuable.
None of us is a small splinter of perfection in a forest
of uncouth trees. Every sensible man knows that he is not
perfect. The world is no place for models of perfection. Criticism
is a good way to discover defective spots.
It is foolish to be so sensitive to unpleasant comment that
we allow it to crush us, but at the same time we must not
become so thick—skinned to any criticism that we do not
even learn that others dislike the things we do or say or
write.
The man who uses criticism to get a clearer view of his
conduct is the opposite of the man who goes around suspecting
the motives of everybody. The second man wants to pick up
the stones of criticism and throw them back; the first man
knows that the stones that critics hurl may be used by him
to build his monument.
Not often thought of, but nevertheless true, is the idea
that the criticism of an enemy or a competitor may be more
valuable than that of a friend and colleague. It doesn't matter
if the critic is trying to compensate for his own inferiority
by humiliating us. He may be trying to harm us, but he is
really doing us a favour if we step up from criticism and
not down. Even a crude blow may be effective if it gets us
over an unwarranted self—satisfaction.
It is a dividend—returning attribute in an executive
when he prefers censure, which is useful to him, to praise
which deceives him. As the clown says in Shakespeare's Twelfth
Night: "Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of
me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my
foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself."
There is, too, self—criticism. Like charity, criticism
can sometimes make its best beginning at home. But it must
not go too far. Introspection, the psychologists tell us,
is good in moderation.
The man who makes a habit of selling himself short, of talking
people out of paying him a compliment, is giving the world
a false picture of himself. Friends may argue a little with
him when he makes a disparaging remark about himself or his
business, but the remark will stick. By and by even his best
friends will gather the idea from his own attitude that he
is pretty much of a second rater.
It's all very well to beware when all men speak well of
you; it's a very good idea to welcome criticism; but don't
go too far in writing yourself down.
Society could not exist without criticism. Discontent is
the first step in the progress of a man or a nation. Criticism,
of the constructive kind, accompanied by sensible suggestions
for improvement, accelerates advancement.
Criticism is the essence of democracy. Rigid social systems
like Communism will never tolerate it. As Robert Ayre remarks
in an article in Canadian Art: Once criticism gets
its foot in the door, the walls of tyranny come tumbling down.
But all critics' whether social, business, art or personal,
should look at all sides of a case before judging. They might
have inscribed over their desks a few words from Burns' To
the Unco Guid:
Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Tied up in godly laces,
Before ye gi'e poor Frailty names, Suppose a change o' cases.
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