GRE Argument: Can Contemporaries Judge an Individual’s Greatness?

Only people who live after an individual can judge that person’s greatness: the claim sounds plausible because historical distance reveals consequences that contemporaries cannot see. But it makes “judge” mean “reach a final judgment.” People living alongside someone can assess achievements, choices, and character using evidence available to them; later generations can then revise that assessment as consequences emerge and standards change. Greatness is therefore neither exclusively a contemporary verdict nor a title that only posterity can award. It is a reasoned, provisional judgment, strengthened or weakened over time.

Contemporaries have an important advantage: they can recognize what a person actually does in the circumstances of the moment. They may observe whether a leader accepts limits on power, responds to urgent problems, or advances a public purpose. Such observations do not establish lasting greatness, but they are not meaningless merely because the observer cannot know the future. Waiting for posterity would also be impractical as a rule for public life: people must evaluate leaders while their decisions are affecting them. A fair judgment should therefore distinguish a contemporaneous assessment of conduct and achievement from a later assessment of legacy.

George Washington’s first presidency illustrates how immediate evidence can support a judgment without settling it. Washington delivered the first presidential inaugural address on April 30, 1789, although the Constitution did not require one. In the address, he acknowledged his limited experience in civil administration and avoided recommending particular policies, instead praising Congress’s capacity to act without party animosity or local prejudice. These choices gave contemporaries evidence of a leader presenting the new office as a public responsibility rather than a platform for imposing a personal program. They could reasonably value that restraint at the time. Yet one address alone could not prove how Washington would exercise power throughout his presidency, still less determine how later generations would weigh his whole record.

The same example shows why a judgment must be open to revision. Washington urged care over constitutional amendments that might endanger an effective, united government, and he declined personal executive compensation, asking that estimates cover public-good expenditures. These positions provide evidence about his stated priorities and understanding of the office; they are not, by themselves, proof that every later consequence of his leadership was beneficial. Posterity can compare such statements and acts with a broader record and ask whether restraint served the public, whose interests were represented, and what effects endured. That is not a reason to dismiss contemporary observers. It is a reason to treat their judgment as an informed but incomplete account.

John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address shows that contemporaries can also recognize the quality and purpose of a public achievement. Kennedy delivered it on January 20, 1961, aiming for a short, clear address without partisan rhetoric and focused on foreign policy. He called on Americans to confront tyranny, poverty, disease, and war, and urged them toward public service. Listeners could assess the speech’s clarity, tone, and appeal immediately; they did not have to wait decades to notice that it asked citizens to accept responsibilities as well as make demands. Those qualities support a judgment about Kennedy’s effectiveness as a speaker and his ability to frame a public challenge. They do not alone establish that the challenge was met.

Later events offer another kind of evidence, though they must be interpreted carefully. On March 1, Kennedy issued an executive order establishing the Peace Corps as a State Department pilot program, and Congress later passed the Peace Corps Act, making the program permanent. The sequence shows that an appeal to service was followed by a concrete initiative and subsequent legislative action. It therefore gives later evaluators more than an inspiring sentence to consider: they can examine whether public rhetoric was connected to institutional action. Still, the existence of a program does not automatically prove that every goal succeeded or that Kennedy’s overall legacy deserves a particular verdict. The evidence broadens the assessment; it does not dictate it.

A serious objection is that contemporaries are too close to events to judge greatness fairly. They may be swayed by personal loyalty, political conflict, or incomplete knowledge; a celebrated speech, for example, can seem more consequential before its results are known. This objection correctly limits confidence in immediate judgments. It does not, however, show that contemporaries are incapable of making any sound assessment. Their proximity can also provide access to decisions and conditions that later accounts may overlook. The better response is to ask what a judgment is based on, separate observable conduct from predictions about the future, and leave conclusions open to correction. Distance can reduce some biases, but it cannot guarantee neutrality.

Ultimately, only later generations can judge an individual’s greatness if “judge” means pronounce a final, historically informed verdict. But if it means evaluate evidence and make a defensible assessment, contemporaries can and must do so. Washington’s public restraint and Kennedy’s combination of rhetorical appeal with an institutional initiative show how actions and stated aims can be assessed in their own time, while their fuller significance remains unsettled. A sound judgment should identify what is already supported, what remains uncertain, and what further evidence could change the conclusion. Greatness is not simply bestowed by the living or the dead: it is argued for, tested against consequences, and revised.

How the argument works

The essay defines the disputed word “judge” before taking a position: contemporaries can make evidence-based assessments, but later generations are better placed to evaluate a fuller legacy. The Washington and Kennedy examples each develop that distinction. Their contemporary actions and public statements support judgments about conduct, purpose, or rhetoric; later evidence extends the inquiry without mechanically proving greatness. The counterargument about proximity and bias is conceded, then answered by explaining why immediacy can also provide useful evidence. In your own response, avoid treating a famous speech or a later institution as conclusive proof. Explain exactly what each example supports and what it cannot establish.