The Discipline of Observation Without Judgment

While on vacation in a quiet coastal town, I decided to try a simple experiment. I would observe people without forming opinions about them: observation without judgment.

The goal wasn’t to become neutral or enlightened. It was to notice how quickly and automatically I judged and to sit with the discomfort of witnessing without assigning value. Within minutes, I realized just how ingrained the judging reflex had become.

A woman took a selfie in front of a monument, checked the result, and immediately took ten more. I felt an involuntary wave of judgment, as if her experience had to meet my unspoken standards of sincerity. A couple ordered coffee without making eye contact with the server and spoke only in English, and I felt the familiar tug of quiet superiority. At the beach, someone set up a Bluetooth speaker and played music loud enough for the whole cove to hear, and I felt a visceral rejection of what I decided was their entitlement. A man let his unleashed dog roam freely through a picnic area, and I cataloged his irresponsibility without hesitation. In a café, a teenager scrolled loudly through TikToks without headphones, and I winced at the sound before registering that it wasn’t actually harming anyone. A family posed their young child beside a street performer who clearly didn’t want to be touched, and I felt a surge of disdain before I even considered the dynamics at play. I noticed an older woman loudly correcting her partner’s grammar in public and immediately imagined the private life I thought they must have.

None of these events involved me. None were egregious. But each one invited me to feel separate, superior, or certain. Each one tempted me to collapse a stranger’s behavior into a narrative about who they were and how they should be. And almost every time, the judgment arrived faster than my awareness of it. In addition, the judgments came quietly and insistently. They arrived before I had even registered what I was looking at. Often, the judgements wore "disguises". Sometimes they showed up as concern, sometimes as aesthetic preference, sometimes as vague disapproval. But under each one was a familiar assertion: I know better. My way is more refined. My instincts are correct.

To be clear, the goal wasn’t to eliminate discernment. Some actions require a moral or practical response. If someone is harmful or threatening, judgment helps protect and guide. But most of what I noticed wasn’t dangerous. It was just different. Or mildly irritating. Or not what I would have chosen. Still, I reacted as if each moment demanded a verdict.

Judging brings a quiet sense of certainty. It organizes the world into categories that flatter our own choices. The man who cuts in line confirms that I am fair. The loud group at dinner reminds me that I am restrained. The parent yelling in the grocery store becomes a contrast that reassures me of my patience. Judgment feels like truth, but often it is just self-narration.

Observation, by contrast, requires more effort. It asks us to pause and hold back from reacting. It asks us to make space for difference without immediately trying to correct, dismiss, or explain it. This is not about approval or indifference. It is about staying present with complexity, even when it feels messy or unresolved.

I began to experiment with a small adjustment. I would name my judgment quietly to myself, then add a second question. What else could be happening here? Maybe the person ignoring the view was dealing with urgent news. Maybe the person tailgating me on the road was late to pick up their child. Maybe the local customs felt unfamiliar or intimidating to someone else in the way they once did to me.

Letting go of judgment doesn’t mean losing clarity. It means trading a fast sense of superiority for a slower kind of presence. It means practicing the discipline of not knowing everything and letting that be enough. Over time, the habit of judgment begins to feel less like insight and more like interference. What remains is a quieter kind of awareness, one that creates room for other people to be human too.