Life for all of us has become a bit of a bitch. With so little to look forward to, it’s easy for our critical sensors to go into overdrive. More or less anything in my life deserves criticism at the moment, and I’ve garnered the reputation of a bit of a moaner. It’s gotten to the point where friends proffer a cautious ‘here we go’ when sitting down with me for a ‘let’s criticise life’ virtual catch-up.
I was a disparager destined to smoulder in damnation way before Lockdown. I relished finding fault in the most minutiae of matters. I couldn’t get through the day without a scattering of finite featherweight critiques or just a good old meaty dig. I lived my life in general disgust and disappointment with others’ motives and accomplishments. However, the fear of being consigned to lifelong obloquy, was encouragement for me to take on the task of giving up criticising for one whole week.
I tried to embrace the sacred reverence of undeniable, faultless positivity, but the wicked vice of cynicism quickly shone through. I realised to stay truly dry of moaning, I needed a displacement activity. As a classicist I thought the answer perhaps lay in the Latin ‘querela, querelae’ – ‘blame’, rather than ‘complain’. And as Samuel Beckett once said: ‘There’s man all over you, blaming his boots for the fault of his feet’. So I replaced external condemnation with self-criticism and began an odyssey of arbitrary ‘self-improvement’ which quickly proved exhausting, expensive and unsustainable.
A Strong Start
By day two, I was questioning the point to the novel ‘skills’ I was learning, none of which interested me. I was far better at psychoanalysing other people than baking cloud bread or playing virtual ping pong. I was dubious how much could be achieved by ‘self-reflection’. It was more fun to contemplate the conscious choices or even just quirky character traits of acquaintances. And thus my attempt to channel my criticism inwards looked likely to be short-lived.
But by day three, I was still going strong, although I had yet to allow myself any interaction with my most gossipy friends. Come Tuesday afternoon, with one fateful jog, I relapsed. Whilst running in the park, I brought up a relatively benign topic to moan about. How was going on a cycling holiday remotely different to jetting off to the UAE for a sponsored brand deal? In this year of tremendous sacrifice, it seemed so tone-deaf, and deeply hypocritical. A furore raged within. My running friend listened attentively but then put forward the counter-argument. If it wasn’t harming anyone, what was the problem?
”There was more to life to get upset about than people trying to go on holiday in lockdown”
In Ancient Greece listeners were liable to be the strongest critics. A listener to moaning (or persuasive speech), was by definition, the ‘krino’ (meaning to judge or decide). The listener would find themselves in the position of the judge, deciding if a proposition was reasonable. My friend’s adjudication? That there was more to life to get upset about than people trying to go on holiday in lockdown.
Second time’s the charm
In my second attempt to outlaw my moaning, I tried to examine why I complain. It was cathartic and purgative to vocalise my criticisms of another person. More importantly, it prevented me from saying what I thought of the said offender. From minor flaws to credible annoyances, speaking sideways was certainly healthier than full-on confrontation. Did a moan prevent an argument, or the loss of a friend? Yes. Now move on. I didn’t bear a grudge. My complaints may be regular, but they are not chronic infestations. If I couldn’t help my psychoanalytical vices, I just needed to neuter their negativity. I needed to be positive. And to really try this time.
”People are positive because they want to climb the ladder”
But positivity seemed a great big lie – a front which wasn’t me. I might complain, but I’m honest and that’s surely better than being two-faced. In corporate settings and institutional hierarchies, people are positive because they want to climb the ladder, to seal a deal, to exploit the undiscerning and to gain power. An ex-boyfriend and someone I work with had pedalled the pretence of ‘positive’ and ‘unjudging’, but turned out to be shockingly selfish and underhand people. And was I that bad in comparison? There are far worse social behaviours one can partake in. Critiquing is not even inherently untrue. It’s just sharing alternative viewpoints. Surely that’s just the core of having a civilised conversation.
Exposing the meaningless of social pretence was a well-favoured idea in antiquity. Cynicism, like much philosophy in the ancient world, has its roots in Socrates, who advocated the good life as one of self-sufficiency. Your social status was deemed irrelevant, and your happiness deemed to be up to you. The Cynics attempted to liberate themselves from social conventions, standing up to power and authority and reclaiming the natural life. The futility of ambition and wealth was laid bare through performance art. Cynics performed intimate acts in public places (notably defecating and urinating) or shouting at passers-by from inside a barrel. Perhaps surprisingly, Cynic attitudes were immensely popular.
Is my addiction really that abnormal?
And so, by Thursday lunchtime, I’d fallen off the wagon again. In justifying my failure, I told myself that criticism was communication, which is much sought after in isolation. Fault finding voice notes and unsolicited scurrilous emails are a much-needed distraction from the mundane drudgery of life. And is my addiction to criticising that abnormal anyway? According to evolution, talking about people to others is a way that our minds work out how to bond. In the primal Neolithic times, who we choose to bond with remained a vital factor in our survival. Thus, complaining could be seen as innate and instinctive.
And so, I remain fated to moan, consigned to complain, destined to shrivel up in my self induced cesspit of callous criticism. Call me naïve, but I’d rather be straight than bent. ‘Positivity’ and false friendliness is a façade for people to get through the day and not make enemies. So I’ll stick with my scrutiny and leave the positive anodyne mush to someone else.
Ruby Woolfe
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