The release of Ariana Grande’s album, Petal, at the end of last month was overshadowed by thousands of critical social-media posts, mainly dissecting her appearance. Tour photos triggered the same ritual: speculation about her weight, her habits and her alleged self-destruction. Even her announcement of a retreat from the spotlight – framed by her team as a response to ‘endless, ongoing public scrutiny’ – was met with fresh waves of negative commentary, as if the decision itself were further proof of the pathology they claim to see.

There is a pattern of criticism here that goes beyond Grande. On the internet, the person who can identify the flaw in someone else’s work or personality is routinely assumed to be smarter than the person who made it. The critic’s smug condemnatory tone is taken for authority, regardless of the substance of his or her critique. Incapable of creating a great work of literature, or a lasting Art Deco skyscraper, these critics turn to tearing down the creators.

There is tremendous comfort in this position. Whether it be music, fashion or architecture, many would-be creators turn instead to criticism as a career. To create something is to expose yourself to judgement – to criticise it is to assume the position of judge.

The exercise of judgement is, of course, vital to a healthy critical culture. There is a difference, though, between looking closely at something and looking for something to condemn. The first requires curiosity. The second requires only a damning verdict.

A good critic can point out details we missed, place a work in its proper context, or illuminate the choices that made it succeed or fail. He conveys the subjective emotion of a work in an objective way, helping broad audiences resonate with abstract projects. Criticism may even suggest a symbolic reading of a piece of music or a film from a unique vantage point.

The lesser critic does something else. He begins with the final, invariably negative verdict and works backwards. He does not want to understand the thing before him, so much as establish his superiority to it.

The ongoing attacks against Grande illustrate the distinction. Rather than exhibiting their own internal dilemmas and emotions, these critics look to diminish another. They become obsessed with Grande’s life while remaining safely removed from the vulnerability of creating anything themselves.

The same instinct to bring down appears far beyond celebrity culture. Journalism has developed its own class of commentators who simply react to what someone else has reported. They watch the people who craft stories and build an audience by explaining what those people got wrong.

This urge to denigrate now afflicts nearly every industry, from technology to fashion to food. A new phone is released and within hours YouTubers explain why it is overrated. Films aren’t evaluated on their merits, but on whether the filmmaker has passed some larger cultural test – as seen with the characterisations of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey as ‘woke’. Even ordinary people’s Instagram photographs can become raw material for TikTok accounts that rate, ridicule and dissect them for an audience of strangers. In an age when everyone can publish, everyone can trash something – and that has itself become a form of content.

Our modern culture of excessive knee-jerk criticism is corrosive to a nation of builders. Once confined to the limited pages of magazines, this style of criticism has been brought into nearly every aspect of life by the internet. Entrepreneurs can barely launch a new product without swift condemnations. Young artists and intellectuals are excoriated for their originality or lack of it before they have had the opportunity to develop a voice. People learn that the safest way to participate in public life is not to make something remarkable, but to explain why someone else’s remarkable thing is not good enough. They stop building, or never try to in the first place, and instead focus on commenting on others’ creations.

A society organised around this mode of criticism eventually becomes hostile to the very people who give it something worth criticising. We cannot eliminate criticism, but it must be restored to its proper place and form. The critic should help us see, not merely help us sneer. There is a world of difference between holding something up to the light and throwing stones at it.

A vibrant culture needs criticism. It does not need to be organised around critics. The antidote to this cultural malaise, of course, is creation. After all, most of the armchair critics throwing shade at Grande and others couldn’t belt out the chorus of ‘One Last Time’.

Sam Raus is the David Boaz resident-writing fellow at Young Voices. Follow him on X: @SamRaus1.