Cynicism Masks Itself As Realism

Living in the modern era, especially as a citizen of the United States of Freedom, necessarily entails a host of contradictions for anyone dissatisfied with the prevailing order of things. Social and environmental activists often participate, to one degree or another, in the system of domination or exploitation that they are hoping to reconfigure and reorganize, to the delight of those who support the status quo.

A lot power sycophants on both the Right and the Left (think Palin-supporting Tea Partiers on one side and Obama-is-God-and-the-State-should-help-everyone Liberals on the other, with the whole panoply of globalization-is-good techno-enthusiasts and middle-managers ranged between them) love to seize on this incidental collusion between radicals and the prevailing order as a glaring hypocrisy that ultimately discredits their arguments for radical change.

If you say you are against clear-cutting, the retort is: "Well, you use toilet paper, don't you?"

If you are against mountain-top removal coal mining, the retort is: "Well, you use electricity, don't you?"

If you advocate for a radical restructuring of society to slow the impacts of climate change, the retort is: "Well, you drive a car and fly in airplanes, don't you?"

I witness this irony on multiple levels and with many people whose work I respect in the environmental activist camp.

Several conservationists have iPhones and Blackberrys, which we know can be produced only through the strip-mining of precious metals, often in impoverished countries. Many of them also still eat factory-produced food, despite the vast amount of evidence that suggests that the industrialization of the food supply is just as detrimental to the total environment as clear-cutting, dam building, or mining.

I think what bothers me the most about this rhetorical tactic among most Americans I encounter is that it betrays a deep-set cynicism that has steadily invaded the minds of many of the younger generation, including many who are intelligent, gifted, and still relatively idealistic about "doing good for the world."

In a recent conversation with a new Americorps volunteer in this area, the topic of big business and corporatism was somehow brought up. The volunteer waxed enthusiastically:

"C'mon, guys, you can't say anything bad about big business. I mean, it's what's made this country great. Most of what I do on a daily basis wouldn't be possible if it weren't for big business."

[At this point, an activist/hobo friend of mine chuckled.]

"No, really. Look at this beer in my hand. It says 'Pabst Blue Ribbon.' Could I be drinking out of this if it weren't for big business?"

"Well, not that specific can," I said.

"Exactly. And neither would you. I'm a realist guys. I know we're not going to be able to change anything about big business. And if we got rid of it, a lot of people would all lose their jobs."

My hobo friend spoke up:

"Okay, this is good. Now, if I can use an analogy . . . Let's imagine we live in the society of Soylent Green. And in this society, the old people are led into chambers where they are drugged with hallucinogens and then gassed, and then processed into food. And the only food around is this processed food-stuff, called 'Soylent Green.' AND a lot of people our age happen to work in the manufacturing and processing of Soylent Green."

The guy patiently nodded.

"Then, two guys, say me and this douche-bag here--" (He pointed at me.) "--come along, eating the only food around, and say, 'Hey, this is fucked up! We're turning old people into food!' And then, if everyone in this society were to turn to us and say, 'Well, you eat Soylent Green, don't you?' And we say, 'Yeah, because if we didn't, then we'd all die.' And they say, 'Well, how can you complain about it if you eat it?' And we say, 'Just because we eat it or don't eat it doesn't change the fact that eating people is fucked up.' Would the fact that the people arguing against eating people were--given that it was the only food around--eating people too automatically discredit their argument?"

"Okay," he responded. "If this whole system is messed up then, what are we supposed to do about it? I'm a realist, I believe in working with what we have."

I couldn't help thinking that deep down this guy seemed to acknowledge that there is something fundamentally dysfunctional about the social and economic system here in America--but he just didn't want to be the one to deal with it.

"Realism," which entailed accepting all of the abuses of our current mode of life as fundamentally immutable, was really a cynicism which denied any and all possibility of change.

I thought to myself, if this guy were to be honest with himself about current detrimental realities, and about current prospects for change, maybe we could have true transformation in America. If all of the Technotopians in grad school and bureacracy--the 20-something, 30-something middle-class careerists who are bound to inherit the wreckage of the 20th Century--were to suddenly acknowledge their very real and palpable desire (and need) for a different way of doing things, we might be able to get somewhere.

But, as I told this Americorps member, it really begins with acknowledging that all in all things are "pretty fucked up" and our dependence on Soylent Green to eat isn't necessarily the most realistic--nor ideal--situation for us if we hope to live happy, healthy, and spiritually fulfilling lives.

(But then again, realistically, that's never going to happen.)