August Moon | Contributing Illustrator

By now, most of us know the rhythm. Chancellor Andrew D. Martin dropped a catastrophic email? Professors or students get wrapped up in a scandal? Need a night of sarcastic smirks and cynical news highlights? Check Sidechat. 

Anonymous X-like apps, such as Yik Yak and Sidechat, have truly captured undergraduate attention. But these apps mirror a more penetrating reality about the culture in higher education. You’d be hard-pressed to find genuine interaction on these apps: everything is a sardonic account of events or opinions. Seemingly playful sarcasm and meme-sharing eventually bleed into classrooms and campus discussions; these apps train us to approach serious topics with a detached posture. At WashU, this shift from real discussion to endless cynical conjecture isn’t uncommon. It’s become a game. And, for most of us, it’s fun. 

Broadly, higher education has become an incubator for cynics. We’ve shifted from healthy skepticism to ritually mocking those with any trust in institutions. As students, we’ve grown up in a world where corruption has become increasingly transparent. CIA-backed coups and unelected bureaucratic power have become mainstream conversation. Cynicism seems the only intelligent response — the necessary response. 

However, we’ve conflated skepticism with cynicism. Really, they aren’t even similar. Skeptics question assumptions; they acknowledge that bias is inevitable and seek to mitigate it. Cynics have a total absence of faith in people. Unsurprisingly, abandoning healthy skepticism for this cynical nihilism only perpetuates the cycle.

While cynicism is certainly fostered on college campuses, recent polling indicates that it is a culture-wide issue, not simply a collegiate rebellion. Public trust in the government has plummeted from 77% in 1964 to a dismal 22% in 2024. Largely, this is a justified response. Our country – both citizens and government – has been through the wringer. Americans have realized that politicians are largely just actors with detailed playbooks. And, we’ve collectively grasped that elections don’t actually change much. Cynicism has become prominent because change feels increasingly elusive.

Yet, hopelessness born from a stagnant political system only reinforces itself. Nihilism alienates people from the political process. They don’t have faith in democratic systems, so why should they participate? Reduced voting turnout, extremism, and resignation to authoritarian systems are all symptoms of this country-wide disease. We’re prisoners to a cycle. And powerful institutions love it. Corruption in Washington, D.C., is normalized because we are told every politician is corrupt. Broadcasters televise fear because hysteria captures attention. We don’t engage politically because we are told that nothing changes. Cynicism lulls us into the belief that we’re powerless. And it works.

But to believe change is unattainable would be to ignore human progress. Cynicism inherently hollows human capacity. Our species is capable of altruism, sacrifice, and, yes,  progression. Those who are truly intelligent acknowledge human depravity while also recognizing our immense capacity for positive change. 

Nihilism is only prevalent because we, as students and as Americans, have forgotten the importance of a common goal. We’re all resigned to hyper-individualized ethics: ideas that individual truths and radical independence should anchor our worldview. This overreliance on self-sufficiency is a prerequisite to cynicism. When we alienate ourselves, trust is eroded, and cynicism takes its place. French diplomat and philosopher Alexis de Tocqueville observed that democratic institutions only thrive when we realize our social interdependence. Collective movement is the only kind of movement for people in a democracy. We need to recultivate trust and promote institutional responsibility. It’s the only counter to disengagement. 

I’m not advocating for blind trust. Quite frankly, our institutions don’t deserve it. Skepticism should be distinguished from instinctual — even performative — cynicism. We need to be skeptical and ask difficult questions, not just assume answers. Our institutions reek of deception, but the answer is never detachment. As students, rejecting indifference should be our goal. Cynicism has been nurtured on campus, which means repair begins there as well.

Trust won’t revive itself in Washington, D.C., or on campus unless we relearn habits of engagement: voting regularly, reading beyond headlines, and assuming good faith — not complicated stuff, just alarmingly uncommon. Cynicism is an easy refuge for students. Trust, then, is the arduous process of the truly intelligent. This form of trust is the ability to be skeptical without forsaking hope, to engage with authority discerningly rather than withdrawing reflexively — practices that seem minor but have repercussions far beyond anonymous chats.