SLC Punk! - A Call to Positive Apathy

The following review was originally published on cinekklesia on July 6, 2005.

When I was in college, I became a Christian social anarchist. What did that mean? Well, as a Christian, I followed Jesus. As an anarchist, I believed the best system of government was none at all. As a social anarchist, I also was opposed to capitalism. Essentially, this meant that my only real option in life was to move to a commune.

Now that I'm older, I remain a Christian, but I have eschewed anarchism for the milder libertarianism. My switch stems partially from anarchism's failure to address the problem of violence: how to deal with the fact that people kill each other over land, money, pride, etc. In short, anarchism fails to deal with my fear of my neighbor. While Jean Jacques Rousseau, a prototypical anarchist of sorts, would respond that humans are actually intrinsically good and peaceful in the "state of nature" (social institutions are what make them corrupt), his views ultimately prove unsatisfying because they are so empirically off-base; besides, I can't reconcile them with Genesis 3.

Thus, I am left with libertarianism: a system that seeks to maximize personal liberty within limited constraints (a minimal national defense and a minimal judicial system). I opt for John Locke's prescription to the problem of violence, which itself was a rebuttal to Thomas Hobbes' asinine alternative of monarchy. Have I sold out? Now that I believe in some system of government, and now that I have become a capitalist pig, am I philosophically soiled?

James Merendino's SLC Punk! (1998) wrestles with this very question. Stevo (Matthew Lillard) and Bob (Michael Goorjian) are two punk rockin' anarchists who (ironically) just graduated from college and are spending an entire year doing nothing but getting high, going to parties, and beating up rednecks. Living in a conservative era (Ronald Reagan's America, circa 1985) and in a very conservative part of the country (Salt Lake City), they struggle with and relish their status as outcasts. Stevo also has to deal with the fact that he's smart, comes from a rich family, and just got accepted into Harvard Law. (His father, an alumnus of said school, submitted the application for him, knowing full well that his son would never sell out so quickly and crassly.)

About two-thirds of the way through the film, we see Stevo suffering from a philosophical crisis, stemming from several sources. First, he cannot reconcile his hatred of the state with his getting into fist fights with rednecks and other nemeses; after all, does not his violent behavior merely mimic the violence of the state? Second, he recognizes that despite his surface-level nihilism, he actually wants some order in his life, as is demonstrated when he catches his girlfriend sleeping with another man; even though they have an "agreement" that they can see other people, he clearly does not like the lack of commitment...which is why he proceeds to punch the stuffing out of the offending third party. Third, he doesn't want to end up completely destitute, which is what he fears will happen if he doesn't find some type of job or (gasp!) career. Finally, a young woman named Brandy (Summer Phoenix) eventually asks Stevo an obvious question: if he's such a rebel, then why does he spend so much money on blue hair dye? Why does he spend so much time dressing the part of the "punk"? Is he not a mere stereotype, a cardboard cutout? Does not true rebellion and individualism reside internally, in what (and how) one thinks?

Brandy's probing questions get to the heart of the matter. Both true individualism and moral steadfastness do not reside in our critiques of the shallow choices that others make with their lives (after all, let's face it: we all sell out), nor do they depend on outward poses, sartorial or otherwise. Rather, they are honed internally, as one struggles with his/her Maker to lead a life free from worldly materialism, shallow pursuits, and empty visions of happiness. Namely, they are honed in a spirit of positive apathy.

Contrary to its "negative" and oft-derided counterpart, positive apathy is not a totalizing state of mind; it does not require that we care about nothing at all. Rather, it encourages a healthy apathy towards circumstances that we cannot change and towards people who have made, perhaps, superficial, materialist choices in their lives. Thus, during the course of the movie, Stevo slowly learns to relax, recognizing that the "revolution" is not imminent and that he and his countercultural friends really aren't going to change anything. He also learns to be a little less judgmental about the life choices that others make, even if he finds those choices morally questionable; in short, he learns that healthy social interaction involves more than moral grandstanding.

This does not mean that Stevo "sells out" (you'll have to watch SLC Punk! to make up your own mind regarding his decisions at the end), nor is "selling out" the prescriptive message we are to glean from this movie. One still can lead a "pure" life (e.g., by following Jesus' instructions to the rich young man) and remain conscious (and critical) of the impurity of the world. However, we should not kid ourselves into thinking that our attempts at social change and reform have any intrinsic worth or permanence. (The Kingdom may have entered the world as we know it, but It does not stop here.) Nor do we have a right to pass judgment on others whose life choices are shallow and worldly; such judgments serve only to produce an attitude of self-righteous anger and frustration.

So, did I sell out when I made the switch from anarchism to libertarianism? Sure: If we all sell out at some point, then I certainly am not immune to such pressures. If I had remained an anarchist, would I have made more of a "difference" in this world? Probably not. Am I leading a perfectly "pure" life now? Far from it. Should I nevertheless keep trying? Absolutely. Will my current life make much of a difference in the world? Not really. Do I see others making life choices that I find morally questionable? All the time. Should that make me upset? Not really: After all, who am I to judge (c.f., Mt. 7:1-5)? This, in a nutshell, is the attitude of positive apathy; this is the message of SLC Punk!.