"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena. . . [whose] place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” -Teddy Roosevelt

I spend a lot of time critiquing the work of others. Reviewing happy hours in Washington DC, evaluating paintings in my art history class, criticizing America's flawed political system on Facebook. Even in my free time as I scroll through my Instagram feed, I am subconsciously appraising snapshots of my friends' lives, deciding whether or not they are deserving of a "like."

As Americans, we have become citizens of the critic culture. We are well versed in cynicism, armed to the teeth with tools used to condemn and judge. We have learned to expertly destroy the lives of others with nothing more than the words from our lips. Need proof? Just scroll through your Facebook timeline and you be inundated with examples.

We do this because it is easy and because it makes us powerful. When we pass judgment, we bestow upon ourselves a sense of authority. We, the masses, can become powerful men and women by doing nothing more than criticizing others behind the safety of our own computer screens. Or so we think.

The power that comes with criticism is merely an illusion. At the end of the day, we have nothing more to stand on than our own words. There is nothing to our name but our mockeries, our sneering commentaries, our judgments. Yes, criticizing others is easy. But it does not give us true power.

The attitude of cynicism and cowardly criticism that we see in today's society is not without precedent. In the wake of World War I, the Dada art movement arose in the United States and Western Europe. The artists of this movement, shaken by the trauma of the war, began a style of art founded in nonsense, satire, and vulgarity.

Avant-garde artists like Duchamp and Tzara were praised for their bravery in defaming the works of previous artists, for embracing the nonsensical, for pointing at an old urinal and deeming it to be art (read more about that here). But were these cynical critics really brave? As George Grosz observed, these artists self-indulged in their “cloud wandering tendencies. . . while the field commanders painted in blood."

I'll be the first to admit that I have been like the Dadaists, mocking society and spewing out cynical commentary. However, there is hope yet. At any moment we, as individuals and as a society, can decide that things are going to be different. We can change our course. Instead of tearing society down, we can build it up. Instead of being critics, we can become creators. We can live noble lives, striving earnestly and spending ourselves on worth causes. Instead of criticizing the works of others, we can create our own masterpieces.