Normalcy transformed by tumultuous discovery or stark tragedy. An ordeal endured. Despair giving way to new hope. New circumstance giving rise to new strength. A moment of clarity, an epiphany, a new path, a bright light at the end of a previously dim tunnel…
Superhero.
We don’t question it. It’s a formula that has stayed true for decades.
Actually, that isn’t true; this archetypal progression can be found centuries, even millennia before the birth of the comic strip. It is prevalent in the characters of ancient mythologies; in personalities of literature or stories passed through any medium in any community anywhere in the world: Life takes a turn. People face a new reality and adapt to the situation, gaining new talents and nurturing a deeper understanding of how the world works. It isn’t always clear whether life is objectively better after their trials, but the storyteller certainly wants you to think so. Regardless, the new life contains a better understanding of how things are, or perhaps how they should be. And that in itself is satisfying. Across all paradigms, truth is the universal desire, the common denominator of understanding, and thus the start of any journey to real satisfaction.
It’s a formula that has made sense since its conception and continues to make sense to this day, not only in story but in history. A formula that has been distilled and utilized on a wide scale in every type of tale told, but never before rolled out in mass until the rise of the comic book in the 1930s and beyond.
Everyone knows how this works; indeed, in an age where the movies that are breaking the box office records are those based on comic books, you would be hard-pressed to find someone who did not know at least in part the origins of popular characters such as Batman, Spider-man, Superman, Iron Man, and the like.
As children, we completely buy in to the notion; if the right kind of incident happens, if you work hard enough, if you train hard enough, if you keep trying, if you do the right thing, if you always do “good,” then you can be a superhero. You will have your day in the sun. And despite all the hard times and heartache, the life of a superhero is the greatest path to pursue. In a mundane world where the highlight of a kid’s week is Little League, Sunday barbeque, or new comic book Wednesday, running or flying around punching bad guys and saving the day would be a constant thrill, and the perfect life.
However, as we grow up, the first thing to go is our suspension of disbelief. As our understanding of the material world grows, we find that reality both expands and shrinks at the same time. There’s a point in our lives when it seems like everything before then was a black-and-white film and everything that follows snaps in to color; everything we learn from then on carries a weight that we have never felt before; the weight of destiny, or impetus, or purpose, or whatever it is that we say to characterize what will eventually become our life’s work. The world stands before us as a vast entity, an ocean, or as Thomas Hobbes so accurately characterized, a Leviathan. A creature of such great power and such insurmountable inertia that we have no choice but to find our niche, our place in the worldwide puzzle, if we do not wish to be obliterated by the apocalyptic forces visited upon us when flying in the face of the societal tide.
Such is not an indication that we are close-minded, or unable to change, or even rigid and cruel in maintaining order. We merely discover that in order to succeed we must prioritize our thoughts and actions. There is only so much that we can hope to achieve because there is only so much we are capable of, only so much that the world around will allow us to experience. We must learn to accept certain truths about the world around us and to control only that which we can and only that which will help us accomplish “reasonable” endeavors. And so the premise of superhero life falls to the wayside, for no other reason than it is unrealistic to (for example) expect not to die when struck by lightning, let alone be granted super-speed by the additional presence of a unique batch of chemicals.
But the truth behind the abandonment of the superhero ideal is more than mere dismissal of the fantastic. It is not cast aside merely because we have never seen gods walk among us, or because we have never seen supernatural beings found only in the pages of fiction, or because real-world scientific research hasn’t progressed enough to support the concepts of energy weapons, time travel, and the like. The truth goes further.
Behind all of the convoluted plots, the deaths invalidated by resurrections, the madness underlying diabolical plans, and the unfolding of incredibly dramatic events, we are unable to accept that so many people blessed with great power would not only be of good nature, but would take it upon themselves to help others, most of whom are complete strangers, with no significant form of compensation. It is hard for us to believe that a person would sacrifice nearly everything important to them – their career, their relationships, their health, their life; the things that we in the “real world” cherish the most – in service to a society that consistently fails to provide an adequate form of reward for their efforts. Indeed, it is more believable to expect society to punish them for their actions, as we so often have in the face of something powerful that we do not understand or control. To pursue such a seemingly unrewarding and painfully grueling task is insane.
It’s much easier for us to believe that people would use such an advantage in a more self-centered way. To use that edge instead to cleave themselves from the pack; to succeed in their “reasonable” endeavors more easily and to a greater extent than ever before possible. In addition, it is easier to believe that with great power, instead of great responsibility, comes a great sense of entitlement. As seen throughout history, increased power usually fosters increased desire. Society has only become more competitive as it has grown and advanced technologically, and the logic follows that we would take such an incredible opportunity and use it to dominate, to control, to secure whatever property we deem important and within our grasp.
No patrolling the rooftops, no quick quips thrown out while smiting injustice with bare fists, no teaming up to take down foes beyond one person’s reach, no armies of superhuman elements banding together to face extinction-level threats, none of that. There would only be a race. What was first a race for arms, that become a race for nuclear weapons, and has now become a race for energy, would soon become a race for superhuman powers.
We cannot accept the world of superheroes because we do not believe in a world of such wonder. We do not believe that such power would create a world of awesome proportions; a world where the darkest of evils will always clash with the brightest of goods, a world where cataclysm may be averted by the strongest of humanity with the most steadfast of resolve. We would not look up to the sky and see our hopes, dreams and inspirations.
We would expect only to see the continuation of a cycle of progress and cutthroat competition, a magnification of the everlasting conflict over property that usually comes with the strengthening of means. Tools of an extraordinary nature would simply become part of a trade of an ordinary nature.
The world of superheroes that springs so readily from the pages of comic books in to the minds of avid fans and true believers everywhere would quickly crumble and fade when faced with the constraints of reality. Left in the dust would be a very familiar animal, wielding a power of unprecedented magnitude yet toiling away at the same pursuits that have always driven society.
There would be no superheroes.
Right?
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