Cynicism is a Greek invention, like the Doric column or the gyro sandwich. The first Cynics (we capitalize the name when we're talking about the ancient ones) were students of a now-obscure philosopher named Antisthenes, who in turn was a student of the illustrious Socrates.
Like Socrates, the Cynics believed that virtue was the greatest good. But they took it a step further than the old master, who would merely challenge unsuspecting folks to good-natured debates and let their own foolishness trip them up.
The Cynics were more blunt when it came to exposing foolishness. They'd hang out in the streets like a pack of dogs ("Cynic" comes from the Greek word for dog), watch the passing crowd, and ridicule anyone who seemed pompous, pretentious, materialistic or downright wicked. Fiercely proud of their independence, they led disciplined and virtuous lives. The most famous of the ancient Cynics was Diogenes, who reportedly took up residence in a tub to demonstrate his freedom from material wants. This cranky street-philosopher would introduce himself by saying, "I am Diogenes the dog. I nuzzle the kind, bark at the greedy and bite scoundrels." He'd use a lantern by daylight, explaining that he was searching for an honest man. Even Alexander the Great didn't escape unscathed. When the young conqueror found Diogenes sitting in the marketplace and asked how he could help him, the old philosopher replied that "you can step out of my sunlight."
As you might expect, the ancient Cynics' habit of ridiculing their fellow citizens didn't win them many friends. People generally don't like to hear the hard truth about themselves, especially in public. But the Cynics felt they were on a mission from Zeus. As the Stoic philosopher Epictetus wrote several centuries later, "A Cynic is a spy who aims to discover what things are friendly or hostile to man; after making accurate observations, he then
comes back and reports the truth."
Cynics have been making those observations and reporting the truth ever since. The ancient Cynics have turned to dust, but their successors have carried on nobly in their spirit. Great names like Juvenal, Rabelais, Swift, Voltaire and Mark Twain have used the classic Cynics' tools -- bitter irony, biting sarcasm and mirthful ridicule -- to expose the follies of their times as well as the timeless foibles of humankind. If you consider yourself a cynic, take pride in your heritage; the world needs you now more than ever.
What cynicism means today, and why cynics need a sanctuary.
Telling the truth can get you into hot water. As much as the world needs its cynics, it still doesn't REALIZE that it needs them. Cynics today are habitually castigated by politicians, corporate chieftains and other productive citizens with tidy lawns; they know that we're on to them, so they lump us with the lowest of the low. We're generally cast as the heavies in the black hats, counterproductive miscreants who broil babies when we're not spray-painting obscenities on public monuments. We're portrayed as masters of chicanery and intrigue, untrusting and untrustworthy. Since we're neither leaders nor followers, we're expected to get out of the way -- and the tidy-lawn folks get furious when we don't. Nobody loves a cynic, except maybe another cynic.
Even the dictionary definition of a cynic makes us look like scoundrels:
"a faultfinding captious critic; esp. one who believes that human conduct is motivated wholly by self-interest."
Aside from casting us in a negative light, Webster & Co. miss the point by half a mile. Where's the hint of lost ideals, the rueful humor, the wounded childlike soul that lurks behind the cynic's sarcasm?
What a sadly maligned and misunderstood tribe we are! Cynicism, after all, springs not from cruelty or viciousness, but from precisely the opposite: a fatal love of virtue. If we were mere realists, we'd have no need for cynicism; the world would never disappoint us because we'd expect so little of it. But the best cynics are still idealists under their scarred hides. We
wanted the world to be a better place, and we can't shrug off the
disappointment when it lets us down. Our cynicism gives us the painful power to behold life shorn of its sustaining illusions. Thus my own definition of a cynic:
"an idealist whose rose-colored glasses have been removed, snapped in two and stomped into the ground, immediately improving his vision."
If we were activists, we'd do something constructive about our discontentment. But we're smart enough to know that we won't prevail, and probably a little too lazy to attempt any labor that's predestined to fail. So we retaliate with our special brand of wounded wit. If we can't defeat our oppressors, at least we can mock them in good fellowship. That's about as much justice as a cynic can expect.
Thank you, thank you.