Politics & Power Quote by Kazuo Ishiguro

There is a particular kind of arrogance that doesn’t announce itself with swagger; it arrives as a mild, reasonable-sounding “slightly.” Ishiguro nails that self-deception. The speaker confesses to feeling superior to student politics not because of insight, but because of vibes: “no reason to think this, but…” That hinge clause is the tell. Superiority here is an aesthetic preference masquerading as maturity, a pose that flatters the ego while keeping the hands clean.

The subtext is less about campus activism than about the seductive comfort of disengagement. Calling oneself “more seasoned” implies experience, but it’s experience without stakes: the seasoning comes from observation, not responsibility. Ishiguro’s genius is to frame cynicism as something that “became” rather than something chosen. It’s social, almost contagious: “talking to my student friends” makes cynicism sound like a shared dialect, the way a group bonds by rolling its eyes together. That detail matters because it links political apathy to community, not isolation. Cynicism isn’t just a worldview; it’s a social skill.

Contextually, Ishiguro often writes about people who manage their lives through narrative control, sanding down moral discomfort into tasteful restraint. This admission reads like an origin story for that kind of character: the moment you discover that feeling above it all is easier than being wrong in public, easier than caring loudly, easier than risking sincerity. The irony is quiet but sharp: “slightly superior” is still superior, and “quite cynical” is the emotional bill that comes due.