Christian Academic Coping Mechanisms, Part 2: Cynicism

While compartmentalisation is bad, it is, perhaps, not as bad as cynicism, the topic to which I devote this post. Cynicism develops in the following manner: Because we live in a fallen world, we necessarily encounter evil, pain, and suffering; for us humans, the question is not "Will we suffer?" but rather "How do we deal with the suffering that will be a part of our lives?" People answer the latter question in a variety of ways. Some attempt to mask suffering by hiding behind wealth or pleasure. Others hide behind popularity. Still others hide behind the intellect (I often fall into this category). Some isolate themselves, and simply hide.

These attempts to mask suffering work up to a point; however, if someone is hurt one too many times, their defense mechanisms begin to erode. In the face of such an erosion, the victim cannot mend his/her broken cover by sheer willpower, for suffering often evokes in us animal responses that are beyond our control (note: I do not, however, believe that these responses are beyond God's control). In this plight, the sufferer usually feels compelled to make suffering a part of his/her identity; because the victim cannot hide the suffering, they assume that it is an integral part of themselves, and often actually seeks to inflict further pain on themselves in order to enhance their identity (consider the opening lyrics of Johnny Cash's remake of NIN's "Hurt"). Moreover, they (correctly) perceive the suffering that lies behind other people's masks, but (incorrectly) seek to render their own broken state in others. Put another way, sufferers who can no longer hide their suffering not only seek to reveal it in others, but to cause it in others. Cynicism is the act of simultaneously tearing apart not only oneself, but everything else around oneself.

The connection between cynicism and Christian academics should, at this point, be relatively obvious. Christian academics very often find themselves hurt, misunderstood, rejected, and lonely. Moreover, the academy seems to have a tendency to attract people with a propensity for melancholy, and, given this propensity, the aforementioned emotional states become intensified for many academics. To a certain point (depending on one's threshhold of endurance), Christian academics can patiently endure their the tension created by their vocation. However, this tension often builds up until it is too much to bear, and then the Christian academic is broken by the slightest anti-Christian comment on campus, or by the most insignificant comment about the dangers that the intellect poses to the life of faith. At this point, cynicism sets in, and the academic Christian begins to tear apart both his/her church (or, more unfortunately, his faith) and his/her academy. Of course, such cynicsm may very cleverly mask itself under the titles "Christian critique," or "academic criticism," but, at its very core, it stems from the tragic story of a human, beaten senseless by suffering, stabbing blindly at whatever lies closest to him/her.

My next post will explore the Christian response to cynicism.