Can you take criticism well?
I can’t, or so I’ve been told. But hang on, let’s examine the question for a moment.
What does “taking criticism well” mean? What would the person who’s giving the criticism expect the recipient of the criticism to say, or do, or think, or feel, before the recipient can be said to have taken it “well”?
I have a sneaking suspicion that sometimes, when people say so-and-so doesn’t take criticism well, it simply means so-and-so didn’t listen, or didn’t use their advice, or didn’t show the appropriate gratefulness for their comment, or didn’t act immediately on it.
Or, instead of looking for particular reactions, do the givers of criticism simply not want to see/hear certain reactions? If A gives B some criticism, and B tries to explain their reasoning or their point of view, has B “taken criticism well”? What happens if B tries to explain their reasoning, but then still acts upon A’s words? Has B “taken criticism well” now? Now what if we bring in yet another hypothetical character, C, who doesn’t try to explain their POV, nods and acts like they’ve agreed with A, but then forgets what A has said? Who’s “taken criticism well,” B or C?
In any case, what constitutes “criticism”? Literary criticism is, of course, the stock in trade of any student of Literature. In this specific context, the word “criticism” means something slightly different, though; when a critic critiques a work (what a fun phrase to say!) they’re not just pointing out its flaws, they could also be analysing and discussing its merits, or showing how it fits into a particular context, etc. The crucial idea here is that such criticism is done with some measure of neutrality—you could be passionate about a book, but you’d examine it impartially. At least that’s the theory.
Away from academia and back to the real world. The phrase “constructive criticism” is thrown around a lot, but what does “constructive criticism” look and sound like? How should the criticism be said or given, in order for that something to be “constructive”? Is it a matter of wording? Of tone? Of the relationship between the people involved? Of luck? Also, does constructive criticism’s “constructivity” lie in itself, or in the recipient? I.e. if A gives B a piece of advice, is it the thing A said which is “constructive” because of its ideas or wording, meaning it is constructive no matter who receives the advice, or is the thing A said only “constructive” if B is able to understand its “constructivity”—in which case, no one can actually give constructive criticism, right? One can only receive it.
I have to admit, sometimes I don’t listen to criticism because I’m stubborn and think—oh dear, shameful admission—that I have good reason to act in such and such a way, or that the other person’s criticism is invalid. Sometimes I don’t listen because I have no incentive to act upon the criticism.
But sometimes, I refuse to acknowledge the validity of the criticism because I sense that the person doing the critiquing is benefiting disproportionately from criticising me. This benefit could be relatively harmless, like, they’re making themselves feel better or more in control by dispensing advice. These are very human needs. Fine.
However, the other person could also be benefitting by coming across like they’re doing their job—e.g. a higher ranking person in a company “proving” that they’re “value adding” by improving on their subordinates’ work. So long as their criticism does actually improve the work being done, fine. So long as their criticism has no negative impact on the subordinate’s own standing in the company, fine.
Most insidiously though, criticism can be a form of psychological control or even warfare. I know I go on about power a lot, but the giving and receiving of criticism truly is an exercise in power. I.e. it is that moment of criticism being spoken and reacted to, which decides where and how power flows and reshapes itself. Of course, most of the time people don’t go into a room consciously planning how their critiques will change their power, but even if the action is taken subconsciously, doesn’t mean exchanges in power are not taking place.
So what do I mean when I say the giving and receiving of criticism is an exercise in power? Parents who constantly criticise their children, for instance, may have good intentions at the forefront of their minds, but deeper down—criticism does reinforce the authority the parent has. When the child is young, criticism reinforces the idea that the parent is older and therefore wiser, and is exercising a “natural” authority to correct flaws. When the child is an adult, and by the rules of many societies, now have a standing closer to their parent’s, then constant criticism becomes, even more clearly, an attempt by the parent to assert their wisdom, or culturally-afforded “rank.”
Similarly, the way many teachers give feedback seems to be predicated on the finding of flaws. I have seen examples where, when all else fails, the marker resorts to commenting on the student’s handwriting. Here, I struggle to believe that the person doing the criticising has the recipient’s welfare at heart. This seems simply an exercise in proving that the marker has done their job. It also reflects arrogance: by picking on small and, in this specific context, inconsequential matters, the marker is also saying loudly and clearly, I get to decide what matters in these situations. That is to say, the marker seems secure in the idea that no one has the right to scrutinise him/her, but that they get to say whatever they please.
Those were examples of criticism as exercises or displays of power. Criticism as psychological warfare is still more harmful. We recognise such actions under the term “bullying,” for example. This is why I get worried when students tell me that they’re “only joking” when they say things like, “stop it, you’re so dumb,” to one another, casually and often. They tell me that this is simply how their friend group talks. I don’t know; my own instinct is to question the psychological motivations of such behaviour, especially if it’s done among friends. Because surely, how others talk to us has a cumulative influence over time, and could even shape how we talk to ourselves and how we think of ourselves. (Of course, how others talk about us also has real effects on our reputation, etc., but that’s not criticism, that’s gossip, and that’s the subject of another blog post entirely.) And if your friends are the ones saying negative things about you to your face…
To return to the question, then: perhaps it’s not only important to take criticism well (whatever that means), but to be able to distinguish between criticism meant for your well-being and growth, and criticism that disproportionately benefits the other person. Perhaps it’s not only important to take criticism well, but to be more critical givers of criticism, to stop and ask ourselves why we’re about to say the thing we’re about to say.
W.B. Yeats wrote “I have spread my dreams under your feet; / Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” Sir Ken Robinson once borrowed this quote to remind educators to treat our charges gently and fairly—but if you think about it, we’re all, as human beings, showing our dreams to one another. We cannot help it; every communicative act is an act of admission of who we are and what we want. So shouldn’t we all be treading softly?
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