Come warm your hands over the bonfire of white male
nihilism.
So BG is a hotbed of (white male)
nihilists?
I say good. I say (paradoxically) there’s value in that.
But let’s just bat off the “white male” adjunct – added purely
to clarify nihilism in the pejorative sense. Because in 2020 it’s a
loaded flare gun, and it’s how you fire the toxic alert that’s a
precursor to full cancellation.
It’s a lazy insult, really.
I don’t have the stats, but I don’t need them.
Is BG’s audience predominantly white male? More than likely.
Is the sport of surfing 95% white male in a white male
controlled industry? Absolutely.
(It’s also narrow-minded, thinly-cultured and broadly elitist,
just while we’re at it.)
So if you want to attack the sport of surfing with accusations
of being predominantly white male then fine, but to single out BG
as unique in harbouring this demographic is patently false.
And, in my estimation, it undermines the BG community.
You do value things.
In no particular order, I believe you appreciate: good art (in
all mediums); good writing; strong effort; cutting loose; hard
work; paying your dues; substance, craftsmanship, humour,
forthrightness, and both hard and soft drugs.
Above all, I believe you care about the preservation of a
pastime that has given you deep joy, embodied many of the values
above, and, in some cases, provided a clear sense of identity.
As for nihilism, let’s examine that.
Now, more than ever, I find it difficult to understand how to
get on with the business of living without being nihilistic.
In a world of deepfakes, planetary extinction and Donald Trump,
where’s the value in engaging?
There’s no way to make sense of it, let alone change it. I would
argue it’s impossible to exist without shutting yourself off from
the endless surges of misinformation that cause nothing but
anxiety.
You might call this nihilism, but you could equally call it
self-preservation.
How do you not become disenfranchised with a society ripping
apart at the seams? Especially when you, by virtue of the
skin/passport colour or gender assigned (or misassigned) to you by
birth, are often the root cause.
Is it any wonder there’s a mental health crisis?
We systematically inject young people with existential guilt
from the moment they become self-aware. And at that moment they are
the rabbit in the headlights, blinded and paralysed.
And what are we left with? A gender-undecided,
ironically homogenised pool of e-boys and e-girls, too
terrified by the world to live their subculture IRL, lip-syncing
and hip gyrating at their phone screens but saying absolutely
nothing.
It has become not only difficult to state opinions and thoughts
(and sometimes even objective truths) but dangerous.
And the result? You stop having them.
There’s a Newspeak word for the type of thoughtcrime involving
original thoughts and ideas. It’s called
ownlife.
Surfing is both a product of and response to a world in which
nihilism is the only choice.
You might reasonably argue that if it wasn’t for nihilistic
tendencies then surfing wouldn’t, or couldn’t, exist.
We’re concerned with riding waves, an activity that has no set
goals, purpose or structure; no point of mastery; and no natural
end other than death.
To surf is to embrace nihilism.
If we weren’t nihilists we might be engaged in things that were
actually useful, or beneficial to someone other than ourselves.
Be honest: what good has your surfing life done outside of your
own, narrow sphere?
It’s wishy-washy, effete and narcissistic.
It breeds aggression, selfishness and self-loathing; punctuated
by brief periods of (personal) bliss, a sense of oneness, and, very
occasionally, a bond with others who understand how good it feels
to be self-serving.
And nihilism among the shrinking core of surf culture is the
only response. Backed snarling into a corner by foamies and yoga
pants and Eric Logan’s teeth, what else is there to do?
You could quit: that’s a valid response.
Or you could say fuck it, fuck them, it’s all shit, and I’ma
keep doing my thing.
That’s just as valid as quitting, and arguably more noble.
I’ve just written a story for Wavelength magazine about
an event Derek Hynd ran on a remote Scottish island in September
2001.
While they were there, 9/11 happened. They heard sporadic radio
reports and some didn’t see the TV footage for a couple of
days.
I asked everyone what it was like to pursue something as
frivolous as surfing in this context. What value did it have? Most
of them told me that it was the only response when nothing else
made sense.
Nihilism shouldn’t be looked on as negative.
If you disappear the world doesn’t care. Making peace with that
allows you to deal with what’s in front of your face without being
overwhelmed by things you can never understand or control. This is
the paradox of nihilism: caring less for the world at large allows
you to care more for the things that are close to you. And it frees
you to surf, to engage in something fruitless without the need for
justification.
And that, to me, is a virtue.
