There is a peculiar habit in our public life that deserves a name. I call it the one-eyed beam pickers syndrome. Once you notice it, you start seeing it everywhere.

These are the voices that arrive not with solutions but with criticism aimed squarely at others’ efforts, rarely accompanied by evidence of their own contribution. 

Whatever is done is wrong; however, it is done is suspect. And if nothing is done publicly, that too becomes a crime.

Consider this familiar scene: someone shares an act of helping others, food, funds, time, scholarships, or outreach. Almost immediately, a chorus rises to scold; true charity should be quiet, they say, caring does not require publicity.

Good deeds should be done in silence.

Fine.

 Until the silence is complete. 

Then the very same critics ask, What are they doing anyway? Why aren’t they giving back? All they do is take.

Entrepreneurs are accused either way. Give quietly, and you are selfish and greedy since no one knows you gave; give publicly, and you are accused of exploiting the poor, performing generosity, or chasing praise. The act itself becomes irrelevant. Only the angle for complaint matters.

When this reflex is applied to politics, the damage goes beyond perception and into development itself.

A politician funds scholarships for students in a community. Instead of pausing to acknowledge the impact on development, education access, and opportunity creation, the rush is to interrogate the source of the funds. Or to dismiss the effort entirely because, after all, they are politicians, especially if they are not from your side of choice. It seems the act of being a politician somehow cancels out the value of assistance rendered.

The politician does nothing, and the complaint is immediate. They don’t help anyone. They only talk. They only benefit themselves. Damned for doing and damned for not doing.

Churches too fall victim.  

Many run food programmes, counselling services, education support, emergency assistance, and outreach far beyond their membership. But, because critics are not present, not interested in attending, not curious enough to ask, the assumption is that nothing happens. Pastors address social issues, failings in our governance, family breakdown, discipline, responsibility, hope, ethics, week after week from their pulpits. But again, if we are not there to hear it, it becomes convenient to claim it does not exist.

And so, the pattern holds. We critique what we do not see. We dismiss what we do not attend. We belittle what we have not built.

The question that rarely gets asked, perhaps because it is uncomfortable, is this one: what have we done? 

We have commented, reposted, and torn down from the sidelines. Beyond the comfort of the armchair, what have we actually contributed? Who have we helped? What initiatives have we started, supported, and sustained? Where have we shown up consistently, quietly or publicly, to make something better? Perhaps even an occasional tokenism to ease the conscience.

It is easy to pick beams with one eye closed to our own inaction. It is harder to do the work.

Criticism has its place. Accountability matters. Transparency matters. But relentless negativity without participation is not vigilance. It is paralysis. It creates a culture where effort is punished, initiative is discouraged, and silence becomes safer than service.

If we truly care about development, community, and dignity, then we must make room for action in all its forms. Quiet giving and visible leadership, private kindness and public programmes, imperfect efforts made in good faith. The showmanship also has its place, people benefit, and it ticks the boxes of accountability.

Communities are not built by perfect motives or flawless methods. They are built by people who act, imperfectly, visibly or quietly, and keep showing up. Until we are prepared to contribute as eagerly as we critique, we risk becoming experts in everything except building anything.

And that, perhaps, is the beam we should examine first.