Are there problems when critics review the work of
their friends, peers, neighbours or associates?
Is it possible to be totally dispassionate in a piece of criticism concerning
someone with whom the critic is either professionally or socially involved?
I suppose all critics get asked this from time to
time.
Years ago, I reviewed some new music by William Mathias
in the Organists’ Review and was
decidedly lukewarm in my opinion, suggesting (if I remember rightly) that it
seemed to have been written in haste with the minimum of effort or originality. David Gedge, the then organist at Brecon Cathedral
(and himself a personal friend) wrote a letter which was published in the next
issue, in which he wondered how I would be able to continue living and working
in Bangor where I would come into daily contact with William Mathias, who was
the then professor of music there. It never
struck me that it would be a problem, and when I asked Mathias about it, he,
too, did not see an issue. He went on to
say that I had been right – it had been written in a hurry and he had fallen
back on some previously used ideas; he thought my review both fair and perceptive,
and he certainly could not take umbrage at that. If anything, our personal relationship
improved as a result.
As a critic I’ve certainly had my fair share of abuse
and vitriol from those who feel I have betrayed my friends and the community in
which I live. It certainly seems to be
more prevalent and vicious in Singapore than elsewhere, which may imply that here
people are less tolerant of voiced opinions other than their own, are more
nasty than elsewhere or that they care more passionately about music. While I can happily take whatever abuse is
hurled at me (try being a bus driver when abuse from your colleagues, other
road users and passengers is a daily occurrence - everybody knows how to do your job better
than you do) I have to confess I have largely given up reviewing Singapore wind
bands. For some reason, whatever you say
about them is an excuse for a sustained barrage of the most foul, vulgar and
incoherent abuse which often seems to have been orchestrated by a single person
who, in most cases, has either not read, has only partially read or has been
unable to comprehend what you have written.
In the main, though, critics expect and, indeed, quite enjoy abuse and
argument; it does show that people read and think about what you have written
and that your words have encouraged them to formulate and solidify their own
views. That’s a good thing to which all
critics would subscribe.
But I can imagine that to receive such abuse from
colleagues, friends and neighbours might be disturbing. Luckily, the Singaporean mentality is always
to hide behind a cloak of cowardly anonymity (expressing personal views is not
a Singaporean trait) so I have no way of knowing who hurls the abuse at me. In societies
and cultures where people are more willing to claim ownership of their own
opinions, I have certainly been faced with strong contrary opinions voiced by
those whom I know. And it has never
disturbed me. Sometimes it has led to
protracted correspondence – something I try to avoid since critics usually
luxuriate in the last word, and should permit it to others when they wish it –
and sometimes led to a period of reconsideration on my part. In no case, however, has it led to any
lessening of pre-existing friendships, any sense of hostility in future meetings
or any loss of respect towards either party.
Genuine criticism based on objective assessment is respected, whether or
not it is accepted, and any legitimate artist will know that the critic is
offering a professionally dispassionate rather than personally coloured view.
My absolute conviction is that, when you elect to be a
critic, you do so in the full knowledge that you will, at some time or another,
find yourself in a position where you are reviewing the work of, or presenting
your own critical assessments to, people you know and people with whom you need
to maintain an ongoing and amicable relationship. If that relationship is likely to be affected
by something you present in your professional capacity, then you must accept
that the relationship was already fragile and potentially unsustainable. What you cannot do is adapt or even suspend
your critical ethos. It is highly unethical,
and therefore unacceptable, for a critic to adopt a different set of values for
friends and acquaintances than for those with whom the critic does not have a
relationship. Does the policeman refuse
to arrest his brother for murder, simply because it will sour their future
relationship? It is one of the
obligations of the role that personal feelings do not interfere with
professional ethics whether you are a policeman or a music critic (or a politician,
as well, but try telling that to some politicians!).
Of course, critics who go out of their way to
cultivate a personal relationship with those with whom they are likely to enter
into a professional one are heading for disaster, but the musical world is sufficiently
small for such relationships to be an inevitable consequence of repeated
peripheral acquaintanceships, and both critic and musician need to have
sufficient mutual respect not to let this interfere with the professional
relationship. If a musician is offended
by what a critic says, then in all likelihood the critic was right – the musician
is not of a sufficiently strong artistic calibre to warrant more generous appraisal.
All this is prompted by my having encountered someone
yesterday who had written a review of a concert, but told me he had felt
obliged to be dishonest and say it was good when, in fact, it was not. He felt under political pressure not to
express his true thoughts since he lived and worked among those whose work he
had reviewed. For me that undermines
every piece of criticism that person has ever written, and will ever write; if critical
faculties are adjusted in order to suit the context of a personal relationship,
then such criticism is valueless. There
can never, ever be an excuse for such behaviour, even at the risk of breaking personal
and social bonds.
I told him as much.
I doubt he will ever speak to me again.
Ah well. Such is the life of a
critic!
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