30 XI 2007
Camus explores the theme of judgment and hypocrisy in his novel the Fall through the personal reflections of the narrator, Clamence. Clamence states that as a judge in Paris, he once had an almost “perfect” life: he had a successful career, helped the poor, and had his way with women. As a lawyer, Clamence judges others in every aspect of his action: and through his judgment of others, he himself feel “free of any duty, shielded from judgment as from penalty [of his defendants]” as “the judges punished and the defendants expiated” (26-27). Hence, through passing judgment on others, Clamence feels a sense of superiority over others; his motivation for defending the poor, pitying the miserable, too, results from this very sense, manifested in a form of moral hedonism:
But you can already imagine my satisfaction. I enjoyed my own nature to the fullest, and we all know that there lies happiness, although, to soothe one another mutually, we occasionally pretend to condemn such joys as selfishness. At least I enjoyed that part of my nature which reacted so appropriately to the widow and orphan that eventually, through exercise, it came to dominate my whole life (20).
Thus, Clamence is generous; for such generosity gives him a sense of control, so that he could become “the master of [his] liberties” (22). Camus, then, successfully portrays the psychology of judgment: it is a faculty that which allows oneself to be beyond the very judgment itself, a process of detachment that creates a sense of moral superiority for action resulted from judgment.
However, Camus soon questions the validity of this statement through Clamence’s encounter of a moral crisis. The incidence of witnessing a woman committing suicide without an urge to save her imbues a sense of guilt into him; the episode of his desire to run over the motorcyclist who deterred him from proceeding when traffic light changes to green makes Clamence realize that he, too, is not innocent, is capable of evil, and cannot be beyond judgment itself. This realization creates a sudden change in Clamence’s life; he closes his law practice and withdraws into a sort of amoral debauchery. At this point, then, Camus reflects the hypocrisy of judgment: its assumption of making one higher than others through judging others cannot hold true as the judge himself is equally guilty as the judged. However, at this stage, Clamence’s reaction is still largely negative: by refusing to judge, Clamence sinks to a state that is below himself and his capacities in cowardice of debauchery, a state of existence no better than that of judgment itself.
Clamence resolves this second stage of his life through his acceptance as a “judge-penitent”: he takes the position of the guilty himself, and nonetheless judges—through acceptance of human capacity of evil, he creates a community of man:
The more I accuse myself, the more I have a right to judge you. Even better, I provoke you into judging yourself, and this relieves me of that much of the burden. Ah, mon cher, we are odd, wretched creatures, and if we merely look back over our lives, there’s no lack of occasion to amaze and horrify ourselves. Just try. I shall listen, you may be sure, to your own confession with a great feeling of fraternity (141).
Hence, Camus’ solution to the problem of judging and hypocrisy does not lie in man’s complete withdrawal from judging; but instead one is to accept the hypocrisy as it is, and judge nonetheless from his understanding of human guilt.
