Cynicism

Listened to a Mars Hill interview about corrosive effects of cynicism, on self and society. Pretty boilerplate stuff--cynicism is bad, but then so is sentimentality...it's all about the need to maintain control, and we can counter it with Love. Okay.

Just before I heard the interview, Ron had been recounting to me the plot of a Sarah Silverman show, in which our heroine starts an AIDS foundation, under the misapprehension that she herself has AIDS. At the climax, she faces down an angry mob, screaming "If this is how people with AIDS act, I hope I don't even HAVE AIDS!"

Yeh. the stakes on what constitutes "outrageous humor" are continually raised.

But it DID sound pretty funny, in Ron's telling. And, at the same time, irredeemably cynical. Which makes me think about: what is the purpose that cynicism serves in our society? It seems that we need it, and we need it at greater and greater levels of concentration. "Seinfeld" is succeeded by "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "South Park", is succeeded by Sarah Silverman.

Of course, we don't laugh at Sarah Silverman's AIDS foundation because we think AIDS is funny. Nor do we laugh as some sort of defense mechanism because we find it scary and threatening. We laugh because we recognize the inherent fakery, the quality of striking a pose, of performance, in all public advocacy.

The more of a mass-media society we become, the more of a culture of marketing we become, the more we accept that the way to effect change is through the manipulation of images and attitudes, the more we need cynicism in order to remind ourselves that we are, after all, human beings with minds of our own, rather than actors in a great big public service announcement.

It works as follows: We are told that terrible things are happening in Darfur. We're sorry to hear it. We know that Darfur is a region of Sudan, but we're not sure exactly where Sudan is (I had vaguely confused it with Libya. Turns out it's below Egypt, on the Upper Nile). We think of ourselves as people who are for "Good" and against "Evil," and pretty clearly there's eveil stuff going down in Darfur so we're against it. But what can we as individuals do about it? Sure, we can give some money to this or that organization, and maybe we do. But we have little insight into what concrete goals, if any, our money is bringing about.

We conclude that it's really the government's job to effect peace in Darfur. My job as an individual, then, is to raise awareness. This means publically expressing dismay. Furrowing my brow and shaking my head whenever Darfur is mentioned. Or I could go further by signing a petition, marching in a demonstration, maybe writing a letter to the editor. If I'm a public figure, I make pronouncements in the media. Whatever my gesture, it is precisely that--a gesture. It partakes of the characteristic of the characteristic of a performance. Of theatre.

I understand, on some level, that my public attitudes are more important than my private attitudes. Fundamentally, it isn't important that I understand what's going on in Darfur, the historical or moral intricacies of the situation...or even where Darfur is. the important thing is to strike the right attitude.

In fact, it's probably best that I DON'T think about it too hard. It's harder to strike a strong pose when you're caught up in the intricacies of a problem. And anyway, who has time to educate himself about all the world's problems?

But the more I publically profess my commitment to Darfur, the more I'm aware of this commitment as a performance. So the tension grows between my public commitment and my private apathy. Finally, someone starts making Darfur jokes, and the dam bursts. The tenson is released. The Emporer has no clothes. I laugh--not at the Darfurians, who are still being raped an slaughtered by the score, but at the theatricality--the quality of make-believe--of everybody walking around pretending to care.