When I heard the iconic and brilliant Ruth Rendell say recently that she doesn't judge people because, she said, 'I don't think we should', her words struck a chord with me. If there's one thing that infuriates me, it's people who are judgemental. I know that sounds like a judgemental statement in itself, but you know what I mean: the people who love to tell you what you ought to be doing, and how you should dress, behave, and generally live your life. Often these people are speaking out of genuine disinterested concern, a 'learn from my mistakes' or 'benefit from my experience' motive. But it's a slippery slope from disinterested advice to interference and ultimately bigotry. People who are convinced their views are 'right' are very dangerous. In a conflict, both sides believe they are right. It reminds me of a joke...
A student rabbi observes an old rabbi judging a disagreement. The old rabbi listens to the first side of the argument. 'You're right,' he says. The old rabbi listens to the other side of the argument. 'You're right,' he says. The student rabbi is perplexed. 'But Rabbi,' he says, 'they can't both be right.' The old rabbi shrugs. 'You know, you're also right.'
Judgements about other people shouldn't be arrived at on the basis of whether they agree with our own opinions or ideologies. But what about judging talent? To some extent this is unavoidable. It's part of life if we are going to enjoy the arts at all. I wouldn't place my own pathetic attempts at painting on a par with Van Gogh. Is that a judgement? However skilled I might become at playing the piano, I'll never attain the inspired genius of Mozart - or even be as 'good' as any mediocre musician. Is that judgemental? And if so, how do I set about judging other writers, as I am often invited to do, as the judge of a writing competition.
Recently the panel of judges for the Crime Writers Association Debut Dagger Competition met for lunch to agree on a winner. This prestigious international competition involves unpublished authors submitting the opening of their novels. The winner is likely to attract interest from literary agents, if not publishers. So winning this competition can be quite a significant step for an unpublished writer. As judges, we were sent a shortlist of just over a dozen entries, selected from nearly five hundred submissions. Over a long lunch, with much discussion, we managed to reach a concensus about the winner. We had some lively discussions about the other entries. The panel, which comprised a leading literary agent, senior editors from two major publishing houses, an independent publisher, and myself as a bestselling crime writer, were sitting in judgement on the entrants. Did we make the 'right' choice? Is there a 'right' decision? All the writers shortlisted were 'winners', to have reached that stage in the competition.
But there could only be one winner. I wonder what the old rabbi in the joke would say about that.
What do you think?