The Courage of Cynicism

I love the Cynics and I wish I were courageous enough to be one. I think they are essentially right in everything they say. A student once expressed surprise at this, when I said as much in a lecture, pointing out that I had celebrated Socrates’ prioritisation of the ethical. Weren’t the two incompatible? Socrates says there is nothing more important than living a decent life; the Cynics go around spitting in people’s faces and generally causing trouble. However you justify it, there’s not much ‘decency’ in Cynic life.

I think that’s true, and I was glad to have the question at the time. It’s easy to get carried away by the idea of rebellious virtue and lose touch with daily reality. Most of the time, it would simply be rude to be a Cynic and you would insult a lot of people.

But what I can’t let go of is the idea that the Cynics rebel against a set of social norms that are really, truly, stupid. Yes, it would be rude to mockingly insult someone for wasting their money on something impressive and shiny and new. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. It really is a waste of money – indulgent to the point of being immoral, perhaps – and they are stupid for not realising it.

You are a human being, in needs no different from any other human being: aren’t you ashamed of needing so much more than everyone else?

All they achieve, when they show off their luxury and expect everyone to be impressed, is to advertise their ignorance. And because of their ignorance they don’t realise that they’re embarrassing themselves. Why not point that out? Aren’t you doing them a favour? It’s like pointing out that someone has something in their teeth: if you don’t want to take it up directly, you could at least encourage them to look in a mirror.

And this is what the Cynics do: they hold up a mirror to society. ‘Can’t you see how stupid you look?’ Strutting around, all puffed-up with glory; full-grown human adults acting like children playing dress-up, making a fuss about their new toys.

The Cynics teach their lessons by making a dramatic example of themselves. They show how content it is possible to be without any of this luxury, or glory, or prestige, and in this they show how unnecessary any of it is. I see them as an ideal form of what it is to be a philosopher. They are in the business of offering corrective provocations; I try to follow them in that.

But even so, I don’t live like a Cynic and likely never would. Like Zeno, I run away from embarrassment. The danger is that I would be avoiding Cynicism out of cowardice only: I just don’t want to deal with the conflict and bad feeling that results from mocking insults, or from living so apart from the norms of society, however justified that might be. And if I’m steered that way by cowardice, how much else am I steered into?

In going along with things in this way, I find I don’t think it’s so stupid to buy something impressive and shiny and new: it’s what people do. Next, for the sake of going along with things, I acknowledge the negative judgements of my old and scruffy possessions. The effect of this is to make it seem more reasonable to buy something impressive and shiny and new; I feel I ought to measure up, if I can, and perhaps be a little embarrassed if I can’t. I fall into agreement, for the sake of appearances, but these appearances have a tendency to take over. It’s not long before I’ve lost myself. I’ve stopped living in accordance with good judgement, in exchange for going along with things and keeping up appearances. It’s a bad trade. Soon I will be troubled. And all because I wasn’t courageous enough to deal with a little healthy disagreement.

Too often in my life I have found myself leant into things that I would never have chosen for myself. I do them for the most part because other people think they are for the best for me, and I take their word for it or else am too cowardly to resist. Mostly, though, what they think is best for me reflects what would be best for them and for their natures, not mine. As such, I end up living someone else’s life, or at least end up living my life according to someone else’s values. This is cowardice, pure and simple, and I suspect that is why I have a lasting admiration for the Cynics. I wish I could be more like them.

I don’t expect to be able to match their commitment, but I firmly believe that the Cynics are a very healthy corrective to the nonsense of the world. I can’t join them (yet) but it is enough for me, for now, that I don’t lag behind.

Read more: Think Well, Live Well: A Free Introduction to Philosophy

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