“We’re not as cynical as the pundits believe.”

So proclaimed our victorious president early Wednesday morning after winning re-election. This was certainly not the first time Obama turned such a phrase. In his famous “Yes We Can” speech after a startling loss in the New Hampshire primary, then Senator Obama intoned: 

“We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics that will only grow louder and more dissonant in the days and weeks to come.”

“This” referred to the overhaul of our politics—the evaporation of partisan rigidity, fulfilling the demands of “millions of voices calling for change.” As with any bold agenda, haters gonna hate.

Yet, while I claimed a seat on both the 2008 and 2012 Obama bandwagons, I must confess that I was actually pretty flummoxed by his talk about cynicism. Who are these cynics? What is their role in our politics? Why not talk about something more obvious?

It seemed like an overwrought way of saying that some folks thought he would lose, a way to diminish expectations or amplify the challenge facing his candidacy. The term “cynic” was not one that I could attach to a face, a voice, or even a political ideology. It seemed uttered without purpose or direction, an empty word employed for a mysterious political reason.

Yet, I noticed the prevalence of talk about cynicism in Obama’s stump speeches as I followed his 2008 campaign. It was pervasive—a strange, momentary blip of incoherence in a campaign that captivated millions, even 17-year-olds like me without a vote.

After a historic election and four years slogging through the mud of governance, talk of cynicism seemed to disappear from President Obama’s re-election rhetoric. Truthfully, it’s difficult to talk about “doubters” when you already have been president for four years in a country where incumbents generally have an advantage. Perhaps governance had made our president a little cynical himself. For whatever reason, talk of cynicism largely disappeared from this 2012 campaign. I did not mourn.  

However, in the lead up to Election Day, talk of political involvement (and lack thereof) began to crop up in the pages of the Orient and in the many political events hosted at Bowdoin. I started to hear voices rail against Bowdoin for its apathy or its bias. 

I heard others denounce the American political system completely, fed up with the two parties, with cowardice, with politicians blowing smoke up their own asses. And then, when I heard President Obama revive his talk about cynicism, I understood.

On the glorious Wednesday morning in Chicago, President Obama also said:

“I know that political campaigns can sometimes seem small, even silly. And that provides plenty of fodder for the cynics who tell us that politics is nothing more than a contest of egos or the domain of special interests…[E]lections matter. It’s not small, it’s big. It’s important.”

Oh! Yes. I get it now. All this talk was never about the prospects for the Obama campaign. It was about how we relate to our politics as a whole. It was about faith in human cooperation, in leadership, and in the power of a collective will.

For once, a politician actually taught us something. President Obama taught me that the power of cynicism really is important, and that it’s also dangerous.

It is this cynicism that led Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell to label the electoral defeat of President Obama as the first priority of Congressional Republicans in the midst of an economic recession. It is this cynicism that led many of the white middle class voters I met this summer to conjure up fantastical stories of impossibly lavish lifestyles enjoyed by immigrants to this country. It is this cynicism that pushes us to disengage from politics, to promote apathy as trendy.

But everyone, especially Bowdoin students, stands with much to gain by giving politics another chance. Politics is the arena where the wonder of diversity, of background, and of opinion actually unfolds. Politics is the means with which we can meet our neighbors and explore all of the communities around us. Politics furnishes us with the mortar and bricks to build great things that may endure as monuments to human compassion, creativity, and even power.

We have seen this reflected in the LGBT civil rights battles waged and won in this election cycle. I was fortunate to witness the jubilation of dozens of Bowdoin voters who added their pitch to a polytonal chorus of electoral triumph. We cannot overstate the beauty of this music, heard across the country. That is democratic power. And it feels good.

Everyone need not participate with more than a vote. Even I can admit that there are worthy vocations other than politics. But, if Bowdoin students do like to be challenged and if they do seek meaningful ways to make a difference, then cynicism is not an option. Politics is big, and it is important.

Our president remains right. Hope must help guide us through.


“We’re not as cynical as the pundits believe.”
So proclaimed our victorious president early Wednesday morning after winning re-election. This was certainly not the first time Obama turned such a phrase. In his famous “Yes We Can” speech after a startling loss in the New Hampshire primary, then Senator Obama intoned: 
“We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics that will only grow louder and more dissonant in the days and weeks to come.”
“This” referred to the overhaul of our politics—the evaporation of partisan rigidity, fulfilling the demands of “millions of voices calling for change.” As with any bold agenda, haters gonna hate.
Yet, while I claimed a seat on both the 2008 and 2012 Obama bandwagons, I must confess that I was actually pretty flummoxed by his talk about cynicism. Who are these cynics? What is their role in our politics? Why not talk about something more obvious?
It seemed like an overwrought way of saying that some folks thought he would lose, a way to diminish expectations or amplify the challenge facing his candidacy. The term “cynic” was not one that I could attach to a face, a voice, or even a political ideology. It seemed uttered without purpose or direction, an empty word employed for a mysterious political reason.
Yet, I noticed the prevalence of talk about cynicism in Obama’s stump speeches as I followed his 2008 campaign. It was pervasive—a strange, momentary blip of incoherence in a campaign that captivated millions, even 17-year-olds like me without a vote.
After a historic election and four years slogging through the mud of governance, talk of cynicism seemed to disappear from President Obama’s re-election rhetoric. Truthfully, it’s difficult to talk about “doubters” when you already have been president for four years in a country where incumbents generally have an advantage. Perhaps governance had made our president a little cynical himself. For whatever reason, talk of cynicism largely disappeared from this 2012 campaign. I did not mourn.  
However, in the lead up to Election Day, talk of political involvement (and lack thereof) began to crop up in the pages of the Orient and in the many political events hosted at Bowdoin. I started to hear voices rail against Bowdoin for its apathy or its bias. 
I heard others denounce the American political system completely, fed up with the two parties, with cowardice, with politicians blowing smoke up their own asses. And then, when I heard President Obama revive his talk about cynicism, I understood.
On the glorious Wednesday morning in Chicago, President Obama also said:
“I know that political campaigns can sometimes seem small, even silly. And that provides plenty of fodder for the cynics who tell us that politics is nothing more than a contest of egos or the domain of special interests…[E]lections matter. It’s not small, it’s big. It’s important.”
Oh! Yes. I get it now. All this talk was never about the prospects for the Obama campaign. It was about how we relate to our politics as a whole. It was about faith in human cooperation, in leadership, and in the power of a collective will.
For once, a politician actually taught us something. President Obama taught me that the power of cynicism really is important, and that it’s also dangerous.
It is this cynicism that led Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell to label the electoral defeat of President Obama as the first priority of Congressional Republicans in the midst of an economic recession. It is this cynicism that led many of the white middle class voters I met this summer to conjure up fantastical stories of impossibly lavish lifestyles enjoyed by immigrants to this country. It is this cynicism that pushes us to disengage from politics, to promote apathy as trendy.
But everyone, especially Bowdoin students, stands with much to gain by giving politics another chance. Politics is the arena where the wonder of diversity, of background, and of opinion actually unfolds. Politics is the means with which we can meet our neighbors and explore all of the communities around us. Politics furnishes us with the mortar and bricks to build great things that may endure as monuments to human compassion, creativity, and even power.
We have seen this reflected in the LGBT civil rights battles waged and won in this election cycle. I was fortunate to witness the jubilation of dozens of Bowdoin voters who added their pitch to a polytonal chorus of electoral triumph. We cannot overstate the beauty of this music, heard across the country. That is democratic power. And it feels good.
Everyone need not participate with more than a vote. Even I can admit that there are worthy vocations other than politics. But, if Bowdoin students do like to be challenged and if they do seek meaningful ways to make a difference, then cynicism is not an option. Politics is big, and it is important.
Our president remains right. Hope must help guide us through.