The Sacred in the Cynical
A Process Appreciation
of Cynicism and Negaholism
Sunny-minded Christians like good intentions and happy endings. That is why they resist cynics and negaholics. That is why they go to church on Easter but skip Good Friday.
Negaholism is the habitual tendency to adopt a negative or pessimistic outlook. It is similar to, but not the same as, cynicism, which carries a sharper edge — a scornful or distrustful stance toward people, grounded in the assumption that they are driven primarily by self-interest.
Process philosophers and theologians are not, by nature, negaholic or cynical, yet they — we — recognize that both dispositions contain a grain of truth.
A negaholic rightly recognizes that suffering, disappointment, and failure are unavoidable parts of life and that naïve optimism often ignores these realities. A cynic, in turn, rightly recognizes the self-interest, power plays, and hidden agendas that often underlie human behavior and social systems. This means that the Soul of the universe — God — is not opposed to negaholism or cynicism. At certain moments in our lives, God may lure us into these moods, inviting us to see truths we might otherwise overlook. We are called into moments of pessimism and distrust. We cannot stay in our gardens of innocence.
In these moments when we have left the garen, the whole world feels shadowed, as if viewed through a dimmer light. In these contexts the "world" is not the world of objects viewed from a detached perspective in time and space, it is the subjectively felt world of mood and feeling. Yet this dimness is not without its gifts. It sharpens our vision, revealing what easy optimism conceals — the depth of suffering, the persistence of injustice, and the complexity of human motives. Within process thought, such moods can be understood as subjective forms that, though painful, invite deeper awareness and, eventually, creative transformation.
The danger lies in clinging to these moods — becoming so attached to them that they harden into a fixed perspective. When this happens, they cease to be momentary invitations to insight and instead become definitive, leaving us unable to affirm life or to be lured toward hope and renewal.
There are many ways to move past this clinging. They include practices of gratitude that reawaken our sense of life’s gifts; honest conversations with trusted friends or spiritual companions; creative expression through music, art, or writing; time in nature, where the rhythms of the earth and sky remind us of life’s larger flow; and contemplative practices such as prayer or meditation, which can open us to the gentle lure of renewal. Process thought would add that what frees us, ultimately, is the ongoing invitation of God — the Soul of the universe — luring us toward fresh possibilities, toward beauty, and toward the quiet courage to affirm life again.
Those who hide from these moods do so at the expense of truth and, I suggest, at the expense of being receptive to divine guidance.
Moreover, and importantly, there is a kind of cynicism that is neither negaholic nor “cynical” in the modern sense. It is the form of cynicism found among the ancient Greeks, especially in the tradition of Diogenes and the early Cynics — a posture of radical honesty and simplicity. This older cynicism was not simply about scorn or bitterness and more about living truthfully, stripping away the pretenses of society, and seeking harmony with nature.
The early Cynics were, in their ways, the first hippies. Or, for that matter, predecessoes to the early Christians, Like Jesus, they rejected the materialism and social hierarchies of their time, choosing instead a life of radical simplicity, communal sharing, and (in the case of the hippies) deep attunement to nature. They valued authenticity over appearance, presence over pretense, and freedom over conformity. In this sense, their cynicism was not rooted in bitterness but in a bold commitment to living truthfully, even if that truth unsettled the comfort of others.
In this sense, the very Soul of the universe, God, calls us to be Cynics with an upper case C. Cynics in service to a new and different kind of world, one where love, not superficiality, is our aim. There is, indeed, in the Soul of the universe, a Cynical dimension: a side of God which seeks beloved community, not shallowness, depth not superficiality, love not callousness, and (so process theologians would add) harmony with nature, not an oppression of nature. God may not be negeholic or cynical in the depths of the divine heart, but God is deeply Cynical in hopes that we, too, might be free and true.
Negaholism is the habitual tendency to adopt a negative or pessimistic outlook. It is similar to, but not the same as, cynicism, which carries a sharper edge — a scornful or distrustful stance toward people, grounded in the assumption that they are driven primarily by self-interest.
Process philosophers and theologians are not, by nature, negaholic or cynical, yet they — we — recognize that both dispositions contain a grain of truth.
A negaholic rightly recognizes that suffering, disappointment, and failure are unavoidable parts of life and that naïve optimism often ignores these realities. A cynic, in turn, rightly recognizes the self-interest, power plays, and hidden agendas that often underlie human behavior and social systems. This means that the Soul of the universe — God — is not opposed to negaholism or cynicism. At certain moments in our lives, God may lure us into these moods, inviting us to see truths we might otherwise overlook. We are called into moments of pessimism and distrust. We cannot stay in our gardens of innocence.
In these moments when we have left the garen, the whole world feels shadowed, as if viewed through a dimmer light. In these contexts the "world" is not the world of objects viewed from a detached perspective in time and space, it is the subjectively felt world of mood and feeling. Yet this dimness is not without its gifts. It sharpens our vision, revealing what easy optimism conceals — the depth of suffering, the persistence of injustice, and the complexity of human motives. Within process thought, such moods can be understood as subjective forms that, though painful, invite deeper awareness and, eventually, creative transformation.
The danger lies in clinging to these moods — becoming so attached to them that they harden into a fixed perspective. When this happens, they cease to be momentary invitations to insight and instead become definitive, leaving us unable to affirm life or to be lured toward hope and renewal.
There are many ways to move past this clinging. They include practices of gratitude that reawaken our sense of life’s gifts; honest conversations with trusted friends or spiritual companions; creative expression through music, art, or writing; time in nature, where the rhythms of the earth and sky remind us of life’s larger flow; and contemplative practices such as prayer or meditation, which can open us to the gentle lure of renewal. Process thought would add that what frees us, ultimately, is the ongoing invitation of God — the Soul of the universe — luring us toward fresh possibilities, toward beauty, and toward the quiet courage to affirm life again.
Those who hide from these moods do so at the expense of truth and, I suggest, at the expense of being receptive to divine guidance.
Moreover, and importantly, there is a kind of cynicism that is neither negaholic nor “cynical” in the modern sense. It is the form of cynicism found among the ancient Greeks, especially in the tradition of Diogenes and the early Cynics — a posture of radical honesty and simplicity. This older cynicism was not simply about scorn or bitterness and more about living truthfully, stripping away the pretenses of society, and seeking harmony with nature.
The early Cynics were, in their ways, the first hippies. Or, for that matter, predecessoes to the early Christians, Like Jesus, they rejected the materialism and social hierarchies of their time, choosing instead a life of radical simplicity, communal sharing, and (in the case of the hippies) deep attunement to nature. They valued authenticity over appearance, presence over pretense, and freedom over conformity. In this sense, their cynicism was not rooted in bitterness but in a bold commitment to living truthfully, even if that truth unsettled the comfort of others.
In this sense, the very Soul of the universe, God, calls us to be Cynics with an upper case C. Cynics in service to a new and different kind of world, one where love, not superficiality, is our aim. There is, indeed, in the Soul of the universe, a Cynical dimension: a side of God which seeks beloved community, not shallowness, depth not superficiality, love not callousness, and (so process theologians would add) harmony with nature, not an oppression of nature. God may not be negeholic or cynical in the depths of the divine heart, but God is deeply Cynical in hopes that we, too, might be free and true.
Four Meanings of Cynicism
Oxford English Dictionary
1. The doctrine or principles of the Cynics, characterized by a desire to live a virtuous life and an ostentatious contempt for comfort, wealth, and pleasure.
2. Scornfully critical disposition, attitude, or character; esp. inclination to believe that people are motivated purely by self-interest.
3. Concern only with one's own interests, typically coupled with a willingness to disregard accepted standards in order to achieve such interests; self-serving or cynical behaviour
4. Inclination to doubt the value or worth of something, or the likelihood of its success; (more generally) negativity, pessimism.
2. Scornfully critical disposition, attitude, or character; esp. inclination to believe that people are motivated purely by self-interest.
3. Concern only with one's own interests, typically coupled with a willingness to disregard accepted standards in order to achieve such interests; self-serving or cynical behaviour
4. Inclination to doubt the value or worth of something, or the likelihood of its success; (more generally) negativity, pessimism.
Cynicism: A Scholarly Discussion
Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss the Cynics, the performance artists of philosophy. Eating live octopus with fresh lupins, performing intimate acts in public places and shouting at passers by from inside a barrel is behaviour not normally associated with philosophy. But the Cynics were different. They were determined to expose the meaninglessness of civilised life by action as well as by word. They slept rough, ate simply and gave their lectures in the market place. Perhaps surprisingly, their ideas and attitudes were immensely popular in the ancient world. But how coherent was cynicism as a philosophy? What was its influence on literature and politics and is there any truth to the contention that Jesus himself was influenced by the Cynics? With Angie Hobbs, Lecturer in Philosophy, University of Warwick; Miriam Griffin, Fellow of Somerville
The History of Cynicism
ChatGPT
Ancient Cynicism
In classical Greece, the Cynics were followers of philosophers like Antisthenes and Diogenes of Sinope. They advocated for a life of simplicity, freedom from material possessions, and a return to living in harmony with nature. Emphasis was placed on performance — on living in a way radically free from social convention. This freedom was often expressed in provocative, even shocking, ways. Diogenes, for example, is said to have lived in a barrel, eaten bread, lentils, and onions in public, begged for food, and even performed private bodily functions in the marketplace — all to demonstrate that nature, not custom, should guide human life.
Roman Cynicism
As Cynicism spread into the Roman world, it retained its emphasis on simplicity and critique of convention but took on new dimensions. Roman Cynics such as Demonax, Demetrius, and others became known for their sharp moral commentary, offering public challenges to hypocrisy, greed, and the relentless pursuit of status. Unlike their Greek predecessors, Roman Cynics often placed more emphasis on teaching than on shock value, acting as moral gadflies and street philosophers who sought to provoke ethical reflection and reform.
Christian Cynicism
Cynicism in the Roman era also had a profound influence on early Christianity, particularly on its ascetic and prophetic dimensions. The Cynic ideals of voluntary poverty, radical independence, and fearless speech (parrhesia) resonated with early Christian preachers and later monastic traditions. The wandering Cynic sage, dressed simply and detached from worldly concerns, foreshadowed the figure of the itinerant Christian preacher or the desert ascetic seeking holiness through simplicity. Some scholars argue that the practices of early Christian ascetics — such as fasting, voluntary poverty, and public critique of injustice — were deeply shaped by this Cynic heritage, even as the theological framework shifted from self-mastery in accord with nature to devotion to God.
Renaissance and Early Modern Cynicism
During the Renaissance, the word cynicism began to take on new cultural and literary layers while still retaining echoes of its classical roots. Humanist writers such as Erasmus and Montaigne admired the Cynics’ fearless critique of corruption and their embrace of simplicity, though often in a more intellectual and urbane manner. Erasmus, in works like The Praise of Folly, channeled the Cynic spirit of sharp satire, critiquing hypocrisy in church and society. Montaigne, in his essays, expressed a Cynic sensibility by advocating self-examination, skepticism toward social pretensions, and a return to natural, honest living.
By the 17th and 18th centuries, Cynicism had evolved into a more skeptical and ironic tone, often directed at political authority and human vanity. Writers like La Rochefoucauld and Jonathan Swift exemplified this early modern cynicism, exposing selfishness and self-interest beneath the surface of human virtue. This era laid the foundation for the modern sense of cynicism: a sharp, sometimes biting skepticism toward claims of innocence, purity, or altruism. Yet, in this transition, the radical edge of ancient Cynicism — its invitation to live authentically and counter-culturally — was often muted, replaced by intellectual detachment and social commentary.
Modern Cynicism
By the 19th century, cynicism had largely shifted toward its familiar contemporary sense: a deep distrust of human sincerity and the assumption that people are motivated primarily by self-interest. This usage, though widespread today, represents only one strand of the word’s history, and it often lacks the creative and ethical dimensions of its older forms.
Philosophical Cynicism Today
In some contemporary philosophical circles, there has been a revival of interest in the original Cynics as social critics and spiritual provocateurs — individuals who challenge consumerism, entrenched hierarchies, and cultural complacency. This renewed interest often emphasizes humor, deliberate nonconformity, and a radical commitment to living differently, closer to the authentic, countercultural spirit of ancient Cynicism.
In classical Greece, the Cynics were followers of philosophers like Antisthenes and Diogenes of Sinope. They advocated for a life of simplicity, freedom from material possessions, and a return to living in harmony with nature. Emphasis was placed on performance — on living in a way radically free from social convention. This freedom was often expressed in provocative, even shocking, ways. Diogenes, for example, is said to have lived in a barrel, eaten bread, lentils, and onions in public, begged for food, and even performed private bodily functions in the marketplace — all to demonstrate that nature, not custom, should guide human life.
Roman Cynicism
As Cynicism spread into the Roman world, it retained its emphasis on simplicity and critique of convention but took on new dimensions. Roman Cynics such as Demonax, Demetrius, and others became known for their sharp moral commentary, offering public challenges to hypocrisy, greed, and the relentless pursuit of status. Unlike their Greek predecessors, Roman Cynics often placed more emphasis on teaching than on shock value, acting as moral gadflies and street philosophers who sought to provoke ethical reflection and reform.
Christian Cynicism
Cynicism in the Roman era also had a profound influence on early Christianity, particularly on its ascetic and prophetic dimensions. The Cynic ideals of voluntary poverty, radical independence, and fearless speech (parrhesia) resonated with early Christian preachers and later monastic traditions. The wandering Cynic sage, dressed simply and detached from worldly concerns, foreshadowed the figure of the itinerant Christian preacher or the desert ascetic seeking holiness through simplicity. Some scholars argue that the practices of early Christian ascetics — such as fasting, voluntary poverty, and public critique of injustice — were deeply shaped by this Cynic heritage, even as the theological framework shifted from self-mastery in accord with nature to devotion to God.
Renaissance and Early Modern Cynicism
During the Renaissance, the word cynicism began to take on new cultural and literary layers while still retaining echoes of its classical roots. Humanist writers such as Erasmus and Montaigne admired the Cynics’ fearless critique of corruption and their embrace of simplicity, though often in a more intellectual and urbane manner. Erasmus, in works like The Praise of Folly, channeled the Cynic spirit of sharp satire, critiquing hypocrisy in church and society. Montaigne, in his essays, expressed a Cynic sensibility by advocating self-examination, skepticism toward social pretensions, and a return to natural, honest living.
By the 17th and 18th centuries, Cynicism had evolved into a more skeptical and ironic tone, often directed at political authority and human vanity. Writers like La Rochefoucauld and Jonathan Swift exemplified this early modern cynicism, exposing selfishness and self-interest beneath the surface of human virtue. This era laid the foundation for the modern sense of cynicism: a sharp, sometimes biting skepticism toward claims of innocence, purity, or altruism. Yet, in this transition, the radical edge of ancient Cynicism — its invitation to live authentically and counter-culturally — was often muted, replaced by intellectual detachment and social commentary.
Modern Cynicism
By the 19th century, cynicism had largely shifted toward its familiar contemporary sense: a deep distrust of human sincerity and the assumption that people are motivated primarily by self-interest. This usage, though widespread today, represents only one strand of the word’s history, and it often lacks the creative and ethical dimensions of its older forms.
Philosophical Cynicism Today
In some contemporary philosophical circles, there has been a revival of interest in the original Cynics as social critics and spiritual provocateurs — individuals who challenge consumerism, entrenched hierarchies, and cultural complacency. This renewed interest often emphasizes humor, deliberate nonconformity, and a radical commitment to living differently, closer to the authentic, countercultural spirit of ancient Cynicism.