Life was good. My best friend Gino and I were basking in the glory of a beautiful Southern California July afternoon. We had recently graduated from college and were engaged in our customary summertime ritual: plopping ourselves on my orange and brown couch (this was, after all, the 1970s) in my tiny apartment, blissfully cruising through one TV channel after the next, and beginning to quarry our second pint of Haagen-Dazs coffee ice cream.
I was mid-spoonful when a commercial appeared on the air for a ballot proposition for the upcoming fall election. It was a beautiful thirty-second spot — crystal mountain streams, sapphire blue skies, dramatic golden sunsets — all laced together with a soothing musical underscore. The commercial didn’t actually have anything specific to say — other than how I was supposed to cast my vote. My buddy’s mood suddenly turned to one of outrage, vehemently proclaiming, “Screw that! I’m not voting for it!” I was taken aback. “But Gino, how can you make that decision? We don’t even know what it’s for, and the election is months away!” Without missing a beat, he retorted, “Anybody who can afford a TV commercial like that in July can’t possibly have my best interests at heart!”
Turns out, Gino was right. Months later, the truth was revealed: The advertisement was for a ballot initiative sponsored and funded by some malevolent chemical company.
But, how did he know? Well, to start, Gino was the most well-read person I’d ever met, frequently plowing through two or three books at any given time. I had also always stood in awe of his lightning-quick mind. And he was a salesman by trade, often boasting “I can sell ice to an Eskimo!” Since he understood the subtleties of persuasion, his Bullshit-O-Meter is always on high alert.
But whatever the causes — and despite his generally upbeat nature — Gino’s cynicism served him well. He was instinctively watchful for spotting hidden motives, embodied in the Latin phrase cui bono: “for whose benefit?” And in this instance, he smelled it miles away.
I had always prided myself on my skepticism — attempting to suspend judgment until I have more facts before drawing a conclusion. But sometimes, cynicism is the right tool for the job, penetrating like an X-ray to the hidden marrow of truth. And in countless situations, it pays to be ever-vigilant for the profit motive.
Of course, too much cynicism is a liability…it can lead to bitterness and despair. But when infused with just the right amount of humor, it can be a potent antidote to naiveté and gullibility. And serve as protective armor against those with less-than-honorable intentions.