Cynical Constraints
When arriving at an unfamiliar word while reading, I almost never look it up. Given contextual clues, I can glean part of speech, connotation, and general meaning. I’m well aware that I’m not unique in this behaviour, and most people act likewise, feeling that they can infer the meaning of the word without resorting to a dictionary. However, the distribution of new words encountered within context is different. A lengthy opinion piece or a book gives the reader much more confidence in their guess as opposed to a tweet or comment; where a reader of the former would be satisfied with their assumption, a consumer of the latter would be forced to search up the term.
One conclusion to draw from this is that frequent readers use dictionaries less than their non-reading counterparts. It is likely — but not necessarily — true that as the conclusion that a larger fraction of a reader’s vocabulary is drawn from cases such as these; it is a far safer conclusion that regular readers have disproportionately more words with meanings they aren’t entirely sure about than their oft-less literate peers.
Readers will relentlessly defend the sanctity of their vocabulary. Perhaps the more self-aware will admit the fallibility of this system but in most of these cases, they won’t even be aware of this issue until it bites them in the face. They will just haughtily assume that they know the meaning of the word, based on circumstantial evidence. For me, one of these such words was cynicism.
Broadly speaking, I knew what a cynic was. I could picture them, sarcastic and skeptical, the antagonist in every Hallmark Christmas movie. They were slightly more nihilistic skeptics, and slightly more optimistic misanthropes. When I took the time to search up cynic/cynical/cynicism for this piece however, it turns out I missed a nuance: a specific disbelief in the sincerity or goodness of human motives, values, and actions. I don’t like this definition too much; in addition to finding out I didn’t really know what a cynic was, I had to rework this entire piece to accommodate for it.
My preferred definition is that of Oscar Wilde: “A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing”. I haven’t read Lady Windermere’s Fan, but this quote is simple to understand: here, “price” refers the numerical and material, while “value” refers to the qualitative and sentimental. Though the dictionary definition of cynicism involves a reluctant to trust other humans, I like to see it as a reluctance to trust anything.
The archetypal cynic is often contrasted with that of the naïve optimist. Cynics are seen as made weary through their experience, and usually wiser than their bright-eyed foil, though depending on type of story, the conclusion could go either way. In more conventional tales, the cynic is proven wrong or has their icy exterior melted: Han Solo vs Luke Skywalker, Forrest Gump vs Lieutenant Dan, Carl and Russell, Red and Andy Dufresne. Anything written by Oscar Wilde falls on the other end of the spectrum, with the cynic always coming out ahead, and Catcher in the Rye, lies somewhere in the middle.
In the jaded adult world, a sardonic cynic is perceived as wise. Whenever someone dismisses a new idea with examples of similar historical failures, or rejects an innovative solution with unforeseen considerations, they’re prescient, not arrogant. Bernie Sanders is idealistic and unrealistic; Hillary Clinton is practical and realistic. The world has worked a certain way, and that’s the way that it’ll continue working. Everyone’s experiences shape their opinions and ideas, so it’s predictable and acceptable that people trend towards cynicism with age.
Regrettably, the ones in control are often cynics. Even when they don’t have a vested interested in maintaining the status quo; an older politician who genuinely wants to lift their constituents out of poverty can still be dismissive and close-minded. The most harmful cynic in power is absolutely critical, refuses to engage in constructive dialogue, and shuts down all new ideas before they have had a chance to develop. This is detrimental because they believe they know what the outcome will be, and have such confidence in their inference that they make no effort to actually understand the concept.
Like a reader who never cracks open a dictionary, relying on contextual clues to gauge meaning, a cynic’s experience usually proves to be discriminating. However, there will be those situations where shades of nuance in the definition of a word can prove to be damning. For example, someone only familiar with the common usage of words with other connotations like “ghetto” or “gypped” might find themselves in trouble at some point. Likewise, a cynic who assumes that all government spending are handouts might fail to see the savings in certain preventative measures.
In the last few years, I have become a cynic in many things, but most of all politics. Engaging in political discussion is draining and fruitless. I take no position not because I lack opinions, but because I know enough about both sides to be disappointed by both. I know I haven’t acquired even a tenth of the insight required to be knowledgeable, much generate solutions myself, but I have just the right amount of awareness to be a cynic and stop participating.
The first sign of this cynicism was when I stopped reading NYT pieces. I could see the headline and know what the article was about, what slant it would take, and what conclusion it would present. Since the NYT was the sole news publication I read, this ended my consumption of news altogether, only sometimes venturing into it when reading New Yorker or The Atlantic essays. Recently, I joked to a friend that I have stopped reading headlines as well, instead not moving past the fragment of the headline embedded in the URL sent by my friends. When political discussions emerged during dinner with friends, I moved from the annoying devil’s advocate to aloof and withdrawn.
Like reading words many times and assuming that repetition is a substitute for looking up the word, these heuristics apply to a variety of subjects. But unlike the relative harmlessness of misusing a term, becoming cynical about the stock market and refusing to self-educate about personal finance can be much more damaging. Even more harmful and to a larger group of people is, of course, a refusal to participate in politics out of cynicism. It’s even more of a shame because knowing enough about a subject to see its faults and apparent paradoxes is the threshold for being able to evaluate it intelligently, and perhaps start to contribute something constructive.
So I’ve recently vowed to become a little less cynical about things, to turn to my inner child. I’ll look up more things, and shut down fewer things. No one likes a cynic anyway, no matter how 潇洒 it seems. Consider it dear reader. After all, love them or hate them, the great men and women of history, be it Curie, Mao, Thatcher, Obama, or Musk, didn’t become great by being cynical. No, they saw all that was wrong with the world and pushed through despite everyone telling them it was impossible, and proved all the cynics wrong. So don’t let the allure of cynicism constrain you, dear reader. All you have to lose are the chains of close-mindedness.
