Cynics are secretly raging idealists. Don't tell anyone, though...

Aug 02, 2001

When reading my web site, you may think that I’m misanthropic - that is to say, that I hate people in general. Why do you always complain, you say. Why do you run a collab project like Slouching Toward Bethlehem when you seem to believe that no one can make a difference, you wonder. Wonder no more - you’ve hit on the secret of the Cynics.

Misanthropy is different from cynicism, but they are often confused. Basic definitions of the words don’t clear things up much:

Misanthropy /mis-AN-thro-pi/ n. hatred or mistrust of humankind
Cynicism /SIN-i-sis-m/ n. An attitude of scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others

Those two definitions seem to convey the same idea, but the key word is in the definition of cynicism. It’s defined as "an attitude". Cynicism is a defensive coping mechanism, not a bone-deep belief.

The Despising versus The Disgusted

Misanthropists, well, hate people. They dislike how people act, they dislike what people say, they dislike just about everything about people - both individuals and societies.  They don’t necessarily want to see everyone dead and societies washed away, but they’d rather not interact with them at all. Misanthropists don’t really believe that humankind is of much value. They don’t believe in anything like the redeemability of humankind. I can’t tell you much more about misanthropists because I amn’t one. (I don’t think that even the misanthropic bitch is a true misanthrope - what misanthrope would bother writing a web page as vituperatively entertaining as this one for a bunch of wastes of skin?)

Cynics - true Cynics in the grand old tradition of Antisthenes, Diogenes, and Epictetus - are idealists who are rather disappointed in the world around them. We get mad, we rant and rave, we mutter unnice things about the oxygen thieves with whom we share the planet, but we still believe that people can change for the better - and tend to become . When we consciously stop and think about a situation, we will admit that we expect the worst behaviour of other people. But deep down, we really honestly believe that other people are noble and good, and will do the right thing almost reflexively. No matter how often we meet new people, go to new places, or encounter new situations, we believe that this time things will be better. You can almost see the cartoon bubbles coming out of our ears that read, "Oh, boy, this is going to be great! I’ll be with other people who want to do things right and want to make things better!" If you actually act in a highly honourable fashion and work with us, we cynics will respond with an almost puppylike enthusiasm. Like Agent Fox Mulder, we want to believe. Problem is, everyone is so busy living down to expectations that we...well...become rather embittered.

This gets us into a boatload of trouble.

Oops, I did it again

When I started my contract with a chip manufacturing company headquartered in Burnaby BC Canada, I saw lots of areas where I could contribute toward making their human resources intranet run better-stronger-faster. I was anxious to work on their learning intranet, which they were just launching. I envisioned cleaning up their directory structure, making the sites easier to use and easier to maintain, and helping the folks in the cubicles learn the basics of editing the content pieces themselves so that they wouldn’t be dependent on a developer to make little spelling changes or minor text tweaks. Instead I ran headlong into a passive-aggressive wall of department director and the underlings who feared her. My advice was ignored time and again, and sure enough, they got feedback from the corporate IT group saying "This needs changed and this isn’t usable and this causes problems." You’d think that after being an IT contractor for just under a decade, I would have learned by now. But no. This is another of the hallmarks of a true Cynic. We don’t stop hoping and believing, no matter how many times we get schmakked in the face.

Keywords: | philosophy | misanthropy | Cynicism |
Permalink

I like my vacations unstructured and relatively inactive. Apparently, this is abnormal.

Feb 15, 2001

Why is it that vacations are usually more stratified and planned out than a standard work week? It would seem, logically, that a vacation should be a restful time of leisure and calm. So why is it that vacations often cause as much stress as filing your federal taxes? People seem to have this concept that on a vacation, you need to be constantly Going Somewhere and Doing Something. It’s just wrong to sit still and be quiet for longer than three hours — then, by Mum And Apple Pie, you’d better be off to your next event, or you’ll waste your vacation time! But isn’t that the point of vacation time? To be still if you want? To go places if you want? To do nothing if you want? To waste it if you want? Or are we all so structured and strictured that we can’t function without some kind of externally imposed routine?

In the modern age of automation when people might work ten or twenty hours a week,
man for the first time will be forced to confront himself with the true spiritual problems of living!

I remember vacationing in Panama for Christmas 1991, during the time when the Panama Canal had been given to the Panamanians but the Canal was still being managed and run by American personnel. My then-boyfriend and I flew down, stayed with his parents for ten days, spent three days at the San Blas Islands (I recommend that anyone who visits Central America go scuba diving off the San Blas Islands - it’s gorgeous), and then flew home. I didn’t really care about seeing the native market, or buying gold jewelry, or heading into the mountains to browse at a craft fair. I just wanted to walk around, relax, and spend time with my boyfriend and finally see the place where he grew up. I vividly remember looking out the bathroom window every morning and seeing the blue-black clouds from the morning rains, and the bright green hills in front. I remember the flight to the San Blas Islands, and how small the island looked when we came in for a landing. I remember meeting his aunt and cousins at a family dinner. I remember meeting the marmalade cat from the next yard over, who came into their back yard every afternoon and purred like he was trying to loosen his skeleton. I loved my time there. Apparently, though, many of them thought that I was unhappy because I didn’t express any interest in doing these various things.

My mother was hit by some bug — I believe it is commonly called "competition with the sister". Every Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving, as well as a few other days each year, the two families would gather at one house or the other for a family evening. I dubbed these "Happy Family Memories": Thou Shalt Be Happy Or Else, God Dammit. My cousins heard about my term, and called these little get-togethers "Hideous Family Memories". There was inevitably tension at these get-togethers, but it was the weeks of planning that preceded the events that were the true hell. Mum would gradually become more tightly wound (as would everyone in our house, and probably in theirs, too), and she’d start getting snappish. Then came The Day Of Reckoning. Get a decoration theme ready. Dress nicely. Set the table with the nice dishes. Clean the whole house. Clean it again. Okay now, this is family. They’ve seen us ill. We’ve seen them ill. The kids have seen each other bruised and banged up from playing. Why are we acting as if they’ve never seen the house with a tiny bit of clutter before?!?? Eventually Mom outgrew this phase. I had moved out of the house by then. Funny how life works out like that…

Let me say how much I love my family. Really, I do. But sometimes they drive me so crazy. Then I get out into the Real World (™) and find that other people aren’t much better.

Don’t misunderstand me. Sometimes I like running about and doing things. But that’s usually when I’ve planned for that type of vacation. When I met up with the Lexxians in Halifax, the group of us walked all over the place. We went to local plays, we walked up and down the wharf, we checked out the last days of the Busker’s Festival (this in addition to the convention-like stuff). But I didn’t tour the Citadel. I never visited Peggy’s Cove, nor do I particularly care to. To paraphrase what many said when James Cameron’s "Titanic" hit the theatres: "It’s a cove. Get over it." If I were a Nova Scotian, I might feel differently. As it is, I don’t really much care. The beaches on the west coast of the continent are nicer anyway (snark). And we don’t have to worry about freezing to death after four minutes in the water (snark snark). I’d rather spend time talking with the people, or sleeping in, or loafing about — all things I can’t do when I’m at home and in the middle of a work week.

Stop for a minute and think. When was the last time you just...did...nothing? And I’m not talking the kind of nothing that people often do at large corporations when someone further up the decision-chain is stopping things. I’m talking about just sitting and being quiet. Relaxing. Having yourself a little Zen moment. (Sleeping when you’re ill doesn’t count.)

Or pretty soon, you’ll start needing vacations from your vacations.

Keywords: | stress | relaxing | free time | family |
Permalink