I will never be an optimist – but how can I resist cynicism? | Well, actually

I will never be an optimist – but how can I resist cynicism? | Well, actually

II would never describe myself as cynical. Yes, I have little faith in the likelihood that we as a species will come together to solve the climate crisis, make housing affordable, or vote for the non-criminal presidential candidate.

But that’s based on evidence. Who could reflect on current events and be optimistic about the future?

I might have argued that before reading Jamil Zaki’s new book, Hope for Cynics. Afterwards, I felt humbled: I could be part of the problem.

Zaki – Professor of Psychology and Director of the Stanford Social Neuroscience Lab – paints a confronting picture of the power of cynicism over us and its negative impact on the future and our individual lives.

Over the last 50 years, we have not only lost trust in institutions, but also in each other. In 2018, only 32% of Americans surveyed said that “most people can be trusted,” compared to nearly 50% in 1972. A global study in 2022 revealed the same trend toward distrust in 24 of 28 countries.

As trust has eroded, cynicism has spread in response to global instability, increasing threats and falling living standards.

Graphic with three lines of text that say in bold: “Well, actually,” then “Read more about living well in a complex world,” and then a pink and lavender pill-shaped button with white letters that says “More.” of this.” Section’

However, Zaki argues that it is an own goal: believing that things can only get worse is the guarantee that this will be the case, further undermining our social fabric and discouraging us from taking action against corruption and injustice to take.

Expecting the worst also affects our chances of finding happiness in the now. Studies show that cynics are more depressed, drink more alcohol, make less money and even die earlier than non-cynics.

But the popular belief that cynicism is simply smarter and more realistic isn’t necessarily justified, Zaki points out: cynics perform worse on cognitive tests and are less effective at identifying untrustworthy people and lies than non-cynics.

“If cynics never trust, they never lose,” he writes. “You never win either.”


Zaki admits that for many years, despite his professional research into kindness and empathy and his public preaching of their importance, he too was a secret cynic.

He set out to write the book in part to understand this contradiction: “They say research is I-search,” Zaki laughs.

He noted that cynicism does not stand up to scrutiny.

Our tendency to focus on potential problems evolved for a reason: “200,000 years ago, the person who was worried about the predator on the horizon was probably better off than their friend who was happy by the sunset,” says he.

But now these self-protective instincts can cause us to fixate on the negative and overestimate the likelihood of scary but rare events.

Cynics may pride themselves on seeing the world as it really is, but people are generally poor at explaining our biases and correcting our beliefs based on evidence. “One of the central messages of psychology over the last century has been that we are much less objective than we think,” says Zaki.

In 2022, Zaki conducted a study among Stanford students and compared their experiences on campus to their perception of an average Stanford student. Their self-reports described a warm, supportive community. But the “conceited” Stanford student was relatively hostile.

“They saw this imaginary person as much more irritable, judgmental, and less warm-hearted than anyone else they actually knew,” Zaki says. The same discrepancy between real and imagined proved consistent in his surveys of school systems, government departments and private companies.

It reflects our distorted view of humanity, “like an unfunny amusement park mirror,” he writes: “We perceive our species as crueler, more callous and less caring than it really is.”

In fact, there is a lot of consensus, even among people we would consider our opponents, says Zaki.

“Dozens” of studies have shown that Democrats and Republicans have inaccurate views of each other, imagining their rivals as richer, different than them and more extreme in their views than they actually are. Still, the 2021 Common Ground poll found nearly 150 issues on which Democrats and Republicans agreed. They weren’t small either: two-thirds of both parties supported tax incentives to promote clean energy, for example.

It speaks of the “false polarization” of society, “which keeps us away from each other and understanding how much we share,” says Zaki. If you knew that your views were shared by two-thirds of the population, “you would feel much stronger.”

While some consider optimists to be naive and blindly accept the status quo, cynicism breeds its own brand of “dark complacency,” says Zaki. While it’s not necessarily wrong to distrust politicians, by writing them off we distance ourselves. “Autocrats love a cynical population because a group of people who don’t trust each other are easier to control.”

Skip the newsletter advertising

The widespread decline in social trust is actually attributed to rising inequality as populations turn against each other in response to deprivation. We might even feel a “grim satisfaction” when our low expectations of humanity turn out to be correct, says Zaki.

But that overlooks our own part in maintaining it. “We imagine that we are passive observers, but in fact our beliefs shape our personal version of the world, the actions we take and the cultures we create,” says Zaki.

“We have these toxic, self-fulfilling prophecies – when we expect little from others, they notice and we experience the worst.”


P“People often have good reasons for falling into cynicism,” says Zaki. After all, it is a self-protection strategy: if we don’t expect too much, we can’t be disappointed. But over time, he says, it reinforces our sense of passivity and “stuns us from the inside out.”

What makes cynicism so seductive—and so difficult to give up—is that it frees us from personal responsibility. It is easier to believe that we are simply victims of the world than to expect that we can help make it better for ourselves and others.

We may be relatively powerless when it comes to systemic problems, but “we can certainly take care of our social backyards,” says Zaki. The way we treat others and engage with the world can radiate outward, “transforming these vicious cycles into virtuous ones.”

The counterpoint to cynicism is not optimism, Zaki continues: it is hope, “the idea of ​​the future.” could “It will turn out well – not that it will.” With hope: “There is room for our actions to matter.” That’s what makes it so discouraging, he says: “Hope is hard because it’s something demanded of us.”

A self-described “recovery cynic,” the changes Zaki has made in his own life have been small but impactful.

First, he has become more aware of cynical thoughts, noticing when he comes to “unnecessarily gloomy conclusions” and interrupting them with facts. Tellingly, Zaki has found that this occurs most often when he is sleep-deprived or stressed: cynicism is a hallmark of burnout.

He also makes a point of taking more social risks, such as asking for help and talking to new people. It’s not a given, but the result was life-affirming. “Just last night I started a conversation with a stranger that was so fulfilling,” he says.

Zaki also practices what he calls “positive gossip”: spreading acts of generosity or kindness among his circles. He describes it as “personal counterprogramming” to cynicism.

“It feels safer to switch off,” says Zaki. “It’s hard to take risks, stay open, or stay connected.”

But when we give up on each other or a better future, “we actually make it much more likely that the darkest and bleakest outcomes will occur,” Zaki says.

Living in a small town, I already have a habit of talking to strangers, and Zaki is right: it always reminds me that the world is a friendlier and more cooperative place than I see it when scrolling with X or tags of the day would make headlines.

For me, the key to resisting cynicism is balancing between these two seemingly contradictory worldviews. There is one that is unfair and hostile and coming apart at the seams – and the other that I navigate every day and where I can disagree politically with my neighbor but still trust that I can turn to her for help can ask. Perhaps I could do more to reconcile these realities, or at least bring them closer together.

I feel somewhat ashamed when I recognize my own actions in Zaki’s description of cynicism as a “warm blanket” under which one seeks protection from the world. But I’m also grateful to him for pointing out that it’s full of holes.

  • Hope for Cynics by Jamil Zaki (Little, Brown Book Group, £22). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy from Guardianbookshop.com. Shipping costs may apply.