There’s too many people out there actually get to know them all. While I’m walking down the street, or through a park or through a store, I pass by hundreds of faces and there is no way that I could possibly have enough time to get to know all of these people. In the grocery store, for example, I might pass four or five different people while walking around a single corner of an aisle. There’s no time to get to know all these people and I find it impossible to walk past them without conjuring up an instant impression of who they are. Therefore, I am confessing that I am consciously and unremittingly judgmental.
It’s not that I categorize people by “race” or gender. That would be stupid, given that there’s so many different kinds of people of every “race” or either gender. Nor do I judge people by what seems to be their social economic status. I know many people who work blue-collar jobs who are as smart as anyone I’ve ever met. I have friends who drive old cars when they could afford new cars. Or who wear unpretentious clothing by careful conscious design. I know people who walk, take public transportation or bicycle because they prefer to get around that way. I know people who shop frugally even though they could afford almost anything at all. I know people who are sharp as can be, even though they don’t sound like it when they speak. Therefore, how is it that it is possible to be judgmental in good conscience?
I realized my propensity while listening to a friend discuss his trip to China a number of years ago. He was extremely impressed with the people of China in the cities where he traveled. As he described it, “As I looked into their eyes and I could see that their eyes were active and their minds were active. It seemed as though they were always thinking, always focused. But then, after two weeks in China, you come home and you see dozens of bleary-eyed slack-jawed Americans and you know you’re now in a different place with different kinds of people.”
After hearing this comment, I started thinking more about what I think of the people that I briefly encounter but who I don’t know. And I think of my friend’s comments about the people he saw in China. I started thinking that he was correct that way too many Americans looked bleary-eyed, depressed, slack-jawed, bored, uncurious and unengaged. I know you might be thinking: I’m too judgmental. These people might be highly engaged, yet they simply don’t look like it. I’m certainly aware of that. I would add, though, that I have a lifetime of correlations under my belt. I often hear people speaking, just as you do when you see dozens of people as you walk down the street. And I see the way people walk. Many of them walk as though they are carrying a ton of weight on their backs. Many of them are carrying an extra hundred pounds of body fat, indicating to me that they are not taking good care of their bodies. Many of them are smoking. Some of them are drinking heavily. Far too many of them look incapable of walking briskly, which I assume (rightly or wrongly) to be correlated with the ability to think briskly.
But mostly, I look at peoples’ eyes, and I make judgments, in the blink of my eye, as to whether the people I am passing by are mentally engaged and upbeat about being alive. In an instant, I am helpless but to make a judgment about whether many of the people I pass find life to be an opportunity or a burden.
To figure out the extent to which I am being unfair, we would need a controlled study. In the meantime, I suspect that what I am doing is the same thing that most people do. We are thoroughly connectionist beings–we are exquisite pattern matchers, and we do it effortlessly. We are helpless to not make assumptions (though we are certainly able to decide whether to act on those assumptions or to seek additional information before doing so).
I’m sure that some people will think that what I am doing needs to stop, because it is totally unfair. As I’ve already stated, however, I work hard at not acting on my snap judgments. I know that they’re not always accurate. I might only be batting 500 (or even 250). But that is what I do, because I don’t know how to not do it. I look at people and I get an impression and I try not to act on it and that’s the way it is hour after hour, day after day. I don’t just do it on the streets, either. I do it when seeing a politician speak for the first time. I do it when wondering whether I can trust a salesperson. I do it when a beggar tells me his story. I do it when a stranger tells me that a restaurant is excellent.
Sometimes, I construct mini-biographies, based on the way someone walks down the sidewalk, and it all happens in a flash. I notice how far he is walking from his wife or children. I hear how loud he talks, and whether he is talking more than listening. More goes into it than I can possibly consciously notice, including the tension if his musculature, whether he “looks” kind or controlling or ambitious. What would it be like to be a friend of this person? Quite often, I pretend that I know, even though I don’t really. Or do I? Freud once said that there is no way to hide who one is, and that it oozes from every pore.
My propensity is obviously worse than I first suggested, because I do sometimes act on my first impressions, even though I know better. When I need directions, I zero in on people who looks like they are engaged with the world. When I’m bored while standing in line, I don’t pick random people when making a comment about the situation. I pick people who look more receptive and more engaged. So does everybody, especially when they flirt with someone who might become their life partner.
The urge to act on insufficient information is overwhelming, because there is no option. Not at first. Not at that moment. And if we are decent, we will do our damnedest to make sure that we don’t make permanent judgments based upon ephemeral glimpses. In the meantime, if I notice you somewhere, I will judge you–I will anything and everything and nothing to advice myself who you are.
End of confession.
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