Archives for posts with tag: Marvel

I’ve been watching the latest season of Daredevil: Born Again, and it’s forced me to contemplate the philosophy of superheroes once more. By dint of their title, superheroes are modern paragons of virtue. More than just heroes, these creatures of myth follow the long tradition of moral idols from Beowulf to Achilles to our boy Jesus Christ, guiding us using story toward redemption. Even the Iron Giant looked to Superman to determine what kind of robot he wanted to be.

Arguably one of the best Superman movies ever made.

Yet the moral standards that many (though not all) heroes represent are actually quite simplistic in their deontology: do not kill. However broken the system might be, it must be upheld and upheld in such a way that the villains live to antagonize another day. Batman has sacrificed every Aristotelian virtue in his crusade for justice, Batman routinely tortures people, but Batman will never kill. In further abandonment of the Greeks, the meaning of that justice is never questioned, particularly in the turnstile carceral system of Gotham City, but there is one moral rule that supersedes all others. The ends of justice would never justify the means of obtaining it if those means involve killing in any way. All other means are seemingly totally fine.

The problem with our cultural heroes throughout time is that their stories are understood to be aspirational. A Greek warrior will never be Achilles but can strive to his bravery. A Christian will always be a sinner but can do their best to live in grace. We can fight for justice, and if one or two people get killed, well, we’re no Batman. If our moral theory is at a baseline low bar, then us mere mortals are justified in not living up to that standard, and all of a sudden literally everything is on the table. Christ had so many rules that a good Christian is forgiven for fudging a few, but the superhero has only one. Characters like the Punisher are revered in vicious applications of the law because there is a perceived authenticity in his approach in comparison to the other heroes who constantly have to dwell and gnash their teeth on the singular moral rule they are obligated to follow.

Literal fascism cosplaying as action heroes.

Batman is frequently accused of being a murderer by allowing the Joker to live – as if it were up to him. The Joker is an irredeemable killing machine that will continue to produce murders until the off-switch is flicked. This is a canonical truism. This isn’t a reflection of reality; real-life monsters have more nuance than this one-dimensional murderous madness, but with the in-universe laws of human psychology, it is an undeniable fact. Superman kills Zod in the Zach Snyder movie because there is no other possible solution to the problem of a deranged Kryptonian. Theoretically, Zod could have been written to be convinced of the error of his ways and apologized to the people of Earth, spending the denouement of the film trying to redeem himself. Stories are malleable. But that is not the moral lessons superheroes teach – villains are a constant, and the philosophy of letting them live is allowed to be an actual debate. This blurring of the singular moral rule, even within the universes where it’s held to be paramount, pushes the boundary beyond any justifiable moral rationale into outright advocacy for murder. A real-life Punisher is a school shooter, killing perceived bad guys driven by a hazy sense of permanent justice.

A little while ago, I watched the John Wayne film The Seachers. In the film, Indians (it feels inappropriate to use a politically correct term) murder a nice, white family and abduct their two young, white daughters. John Wayne must track down these Indians, but while searching, one of the daughters is killed (with more than that being implied), and the other “goes native” and John Wayne must now kill her himself for losing her whiteness – this is the literal plot of the film. In the end, John Wayne meets up with her, and in the moment of truth where the question of whether or not John Wayne will murder a young woman in cold blood for the sin of being accepted into an Indigenous band, John Wayne uses his stoic machismo to convert her back into a proper white woman. This film is considered a cinema classic, and reflecting on it, were the Indians to be replaced by vampires or aliens or some other such non-human group, it likely would have stood the test of time.

I mean, who wouldn’t turn into a white woman looking into those baby blues??

What does this say about our current fictional monsters who are morally irredeemable? Would Batman or Daredevil be considered incredibly progressive if their rogues gallery were replaced by black gangsters, and all the world demanded their deaths, but these heroes refused to succumb to the social pressures of meting out an extrajudicial death penalty to the Central Park Five? Critically, without providing justification that the Central Park Five should not have been framed this way in the first place? The grotesque moral framing of these stories is much more obvious when the cartoon villains are replaced by the very real human beings typically at the root of these kinds of life-and-death deliberations – and very much on the wrong side of that debate. Who is Zod if not the Supreme Leader of Iran, his death a necessity for the sake of the world? The official narrative tells us we had no other choice. Who are the Venezuelan fishermen if not replicants of the Joker, and all of us but men, resigned to the fallibility of having to dole out deaths that perhaps only a Bruce Wayne could have otherwise avoided?

Returning to the Greeks, Socrates casts doubt on traditional understandings of justice, but through his trademark condescending dialogue, is able to narrow the definition to the foundational structure of how a society is organized. Justice is a Just world. In Daredevil: Born Again, there is an obvious condemnation of Trump-style politics with paper-thin parallels to ICE abductions and unrepentant criminals being elected into public office. Of note, the overt racism of real-life Trump politics does not carry over into the show because Disney is a massive corporation that sees no financial benefit in chasing that allegory. Daredevil: Born Again follows the well-trodden path of Democratic lawmakers where they will be highly critical of the most obvious flaws of Trumpism (of note, while still ignoring much of the racism underlying American politics that brought us all to this point), but refusing to point to an alternative society that would be better than the one much of the world sees both Trump and Fisk as the answer to. In a binary choice between no option and a bad option to an unjust society, it turns out many people will turn to the bad option. As much as the narrative tries to frame it this way, Daredevil does not offer hope to New York City, he offers only negation.

Also Catholicism.

I’m not saying that superheroes need to add utilitarian calculus to their cinematic feats of bravery and prowess; that would be incredibly boring. However, to not offer a vision of the just society they’re fighting for is moral myopia. Every single instance of democracy in this world was born in slaughter. America had a war with the British. The British had a civil war. Germany and Japan lost a world war. The French killed literally everyone. I’m not saying that superheroes need to start killing folks (nor that utilitarianism is a viable ethical framework – it ain’t), but the singular focus on killing as the only moral rule worth elevating is harmful on so many levels.

I’ve seen around the internet a “joke” that says that the left’s vision of a utopia is a world where everyone has enough to live well and take care of themselves; the right’s utopia is a world where white people work 80 hours a week and everyone else is dead. This is perhaps reductive on both sides, but useful to ask where along this spectrum the “justice” that all these superheroes are fighting for sits. If our moral paragons had real ideals, not living up to their standard would be less important than believing in the world that we all should be fighting for.

Power is typically seen as the capacity to act – with obviously varying degrees. A prisoner can pace their cell, do push-ups, and so on, but can’t act outside the limits of their cage. The President of the United States might not have the power to verbalize a complete thought, but he can do all the things the prisoner can, and more besides. They both have power, but one of them has far more power than the other.

I think this is a narrow view of power that is lacking one of its key components: need. The variations in power aren’t so much across the capacity to act per se, but the capacity to act without considering the needs of others. The prisoner must accommodate the needs of the warden, the guard, the parole board, and so on. His needs are ranked quite low when contemplating which actions to take. The President of the United States, on the other hand, can skate by without acknowledging the needs of most of the planet. He might have to consider the needs of Benjamin Netanyahu, to a degree, as the Israeli Prime Minister has considerable power in this regard as well, but he certainly does not need to consider the needs of the Palestinians who are, for all intents and purposes, power-less.

How power is depicted goes a long way

Taking this needs-focused perspective of power opens up further understandings of how power works, and how impotent our approach to it actually is. If we consider our human needs (using Maslow’s hierarchy for the sake of simplicity), what we consider powerful can really only help us meet our most basic needs: food, water, safety, shelter. This can also help us define what might be considered ‘power’ as anything that can help us obtain these things without considering the needs of others – money, celebrity, access to opportunity (think Harvey Weinstein), and so on.

In case you need a refresher

There are way more needs than the basic ones, and power is useless in obtaining them. Love is elusive to those whose identity is based solely in their power, and this is highlighted in the common trope of the rich person worrying over whether they are loved as themselves or if those close to them are only after their money. Similarly with esteem: we think we respect power, but we really only respect what one does with it. Elon Musk isn’t respected because of his money, but because of his advocacy for free speech and his pursuit of a better world for humanity through clean energy and space exploration; or, he’s not, because of his advocacy for racism and his massive ego whose projects offset any climate good his cars might produce. His power is irrelevant; he is judged by his actions based on the capacity that he has to act – as anyone would be. Self-actualization goes without saying.

Someone with only their very most basic needs being met – such a thing to strive for…

So why is there this fixation on power? Why do so many people strive for it, often at the cost of their other needs? Why do we delude ourselves that power is somehow going to fulfill our lives when it literally cannot? The answer is obviously capitalism, you goons; it’s always capitalism.

Capitalism as an ideology requires an underclass to use their labour to produce the things needed by the more powerful. This required scarcity forces people into a situation of never having enough power, so our most basic needs can never be met. A housing market that makes shelter out of reach; low wages to make food and security luxuries; a “flexible labour market” (i.e. gig work) to make the underclass even more precarious in their ability to meet their basic needs.

We are then told that in order to get our needs met, we must compete laterally with others in our class. We must gain power by any means necessary, and that’s the only way we’ll be able to afford rent. Do not consider the needs of your neighbour; they are in competition with you! The only way for society to function is if there are winners and losers, and winners don’t need to accommodate anyone. This is the way.

Baby Yoda’s famous catchphrase, “Fuck you. I got mine!”

This isn’t to say that power didn’t exist prior to capitalism. Feudalism obviously had lords going head to head to obtain more power – it’s just that the regular people didn’t give a shit because they had their basic needs met. More people had access to a more diffuse power: land. If you had access to land, you had food, security, family, and so on, and didn’t see the point in striving for anything else. If you didn’t have land, there was still the commons which allowed a degree of needs to be met. There wasn’t as much wealth as we understand it today, but there didn’t really need to be; people had enough. Industrialization created urbanization which increased inequality and poverty which reduced the average person’s power, and the shrinking of the commons increased commodification which reduced normal people’s ability to get their needs met as basic needs became more and more unaffordable. As the West went through this transition, we peasants and proletarians gained political power through the institution of democracy, but lost it economically as the means of production shifted more and more to the ownership class.

This blog is technically more anarchistic than communistic, but Party Marx will always be welcome for discussions around the ownership of the means of production

This manufactured scarcity and proselytized ideology has deluded us into thinking that with power, we’ll finally be able to live the lives we want to have. To a degree this is true: we cannot achieve anything without our basic needs being met, and power is required to obtain them. The delusion arises when we forget that our goal is to get our needs met, and not power in-and-of itself. We want money in seeming ignorance that the entire purpose of money is to buy stuff – do we want the money or do we want the stuff? Do we want the power or do we want to have our needs met?

Also, wasn’t this article supposed to be about superheroes?

It has been this whole; you just had no idea!

Superheroes have superpowers which would include them in this analysis. It’s a little campy, but being more powerful than a locomotive is technically a power. As David Hume said, “Strength is a kind of power; and therefore the desire to excel in strength is to be considered as an inferior species of ambition.” Could Superman achieve his basic needs without taking into consideration the needs of others? Absolutely! That’s how we get Injustice and Homelander. This shit counts, however nerdy an ambition it might be.

Superman, of course, would never do such a thing in the traditional canon. That’s what makes him heroic. He doesn’t use his power for himself, and I’m going to argue that he doesn’t do it for the people of Metropolis either. The people of Metropolis don’t exist – they’re fictional. Superman doesn’t technically exist either, but the story of Superman does. The writers are producing this power, and the power of Superman is used to meet the needs of person reading his story. We feel secure against the threat of Zod. We feel safe from the machinations of Lex Luthor. This is how empathy works.

If our needs don’t supersede the needs of the hero, they become the villain. This is why the villain Homelander is still seen as a hero in an ever-increasing fascistic America – the people who watch The Boys don’t see any issue with what he’s doing, and their needs remain met by his actions. But traditional villains rob banks and try to take over the world, using their superpowers to meet their own needs. Disney’s new “sympathetic” Marvel villains have high ideals, but don’t consider the needs of others in their quest for it – this is how their villainy is displayed despite the validity of their ideology.

The face of accommodating the needs of others

The thing is, this glomming on to the powerful with the assumption that they’ll meet our needs exists outside the world of the superhero as well. In the traditional model, women (who are limited in their power) will seek out powerful men as a means of linking themselves with his power to help them get their own needs met in a world that wouldn’t allow them to be met otherwise. If there is abuse or violence, it is often endured out of a fear that her needs won’t be met without him – his power is all she has to keep herself from becoming powerless.

Under capitalism, there are more powerless people than just trad wives. Many of us live our lives with the bare minimum of power, scraping by as best we can. Wouldn’t it be nice to attach ourselves to some hero who would use their power to uplift our own? This is the allure of the tyrant. Surely I’ll be taken care of if we give more power to this person with whom I identify! Surely my station will be reduced if they are overthrown! We connect to the tyrant as we would to Superman, as some of us bizarrely do with Homelander – they will use their power to keep us safe. Our needs will be considered; the needs of the outsider be damned. But is the solution to our abusive boyfriend to make sure we land a nice one, or to adjust society so that women and men are equitable in their power, limiting the potential for abuse to happen in the first place? Such a world appears to be possible!

People are alive today who have witnessed significant changes in systems of power

The thing is, power is the capacity to act without considering the needs of others. The powerful don’t need to consider us, so why would they? That’s how power maintains itself, so why abandon the working model? We, however, as a collective have more power than any individual. This is why platitudes are made about how the powerful will take care of us, as a manipulation. We are given speeches and scraps to delude us into thinking that we are better off with them having all the power, with us remaining powerless and allowing them to go unchallenged. Superman is a propagandic myth: the boyfriend who tells his girlfriend to never leave him, he’s going to take care of her, trust him.

Power cannot escape what it is; we have to escape power. We have to recognize the value of our neighbour and accommodate them accordingly. We have to recognize the life beyond our basic needs. Both of these perspective require giving up our pursuit of power. Power will never go away, our basic needs will always need to be met, but we can diffuse it. Just as democracy diffused political power, we must identify other aspects of power and diffuse them as well. Power where it exists today must be counterbalanced – this is often the project of the Left as we try to convince governments to allow the otherwise powerless access to their basic needs. It’s a faulty system as power remains relatively undisturbed, and this liberal redistribution does not address the root causes of the concentration of that power, but it’s what the system currently allows. We still have room to dream for more.

To quote a super-villain (notably, one later purchased by Disney), “When everyone is super, no one will be.” And we’d be better off for it.