"It is certain, in any case, that ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have." - James Baldwin
Dear Internauts,
Been sitting on this blog all night and day trying to organize my thoughts into something resembling coherence. I mean, let's not let our standards get too crazy out of control, but it's been fairly obvious of late that I've lost whatever crispy remnant of my sanity held cognitive structures one to the next.
I mean, how many times can I turn over and fall back to sleep? Worse, how many times must I reach a point of waking only to groan (sometimes out loud), "damn you reality." Sure, my dreaming hasn't been incredibly productive or anything, but at least I have a right to feel victimized in my nightmares—even if only in a solipsistic sense.
Now I could type something topical and timely here about, say, defense spending, but I think instead I should type something topical and timely here about, say, super hero stories.
Boy, do I love me some good super hero stories!
As we know, though, thinking critically about a work is a true sign of love for that work.
Thus, when I mention how much I love(d) Spider-Man: Homecoming, it also comes to mind, how important it is we get a scene of Spidey committing violence in the name of justice only to realize he acted without having all the right
information.
Of course I'm referring to the one scene when...but also that other scene when...and oh yeah, there's the other scene when... OH MY WORD WE HAVE A THEME!!! It's certainly not all the movie is about, but boy does WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY play well with all its lovely little tropey children.
One of the things I love about Spider-Man as a character is that he's one of the few Marvel characters who can accomplish some of the best humanizing characterization the House of Ideas has to offer while still being unapologetically a super hero vigilante detective crime fighter. With both Marvel and DC comics filling so many of their story-lines with in-fighting, universe-shattering events, and/or crossovers you need spreadsheets and a platinum account to follow, it can feel like the big 2 comics publishers spend almost as much time avoiding the old baseline as they do retelling the origin stories of their beloveds.
(Granted, does anyone do a detective story in costume quite like a good Batman? When you break it down, the worst of those tales sprinkle clues in the drips from generic goons' bloody noses and gadget-based Deus Ex McGuffins. The best writers and artists must recognize that Bruce is a 1%-er taking out his childhood trauma on the poor, disenfranchised, and mentally ill. Some choose to revel in this, making Bats out as just as if not more unstable than his rogues gallery, while others seem almost tone deaf to the hypocrisy and inherently cyclical nature of his one man war on crime.)
Spider-Man takes maybe several less cues per issue from scientific detective stories than Batman, but as with almost every comic book hero, the genre-bending is latched inextricably with the tastes of the particular writer. Why I and many others love our flustered webhead so much stems from the human drama and spirit of perseverance which underlies his best tales. Now unlike the CW's DC shows—of which I am mostly a huge fan—Spider-Man has had a long, long history of working out the balance between heart-breaking and face-punching. You need to care about the people in the fight if you're to really care about the fight. Contrariwise, if the fight only seems to exist to take a breather between characters having the same melodramatic conversation for the fortieth time that episode/issue, then it's just another weird teen drama shot in toronto with a bunch of hot shirtless guys, uncomfortable pauses between cuts, and every minor twists treated like someone just blew up the moon. Thankfully, both the CW shows and Spider-Man's writers tend to get better at all this with time, and Spidey's had far more than most for developing a truly teenage superhero tale. His stories deal with angst, homework, dating, money trouble, family struggles, public image, and more while still feeling adequately super.
Now, this isn't always the case, but when done well, Peter Parker's growth and Spider-Man's growth are linked by one of the true hallmarks of a lasting serial hero: he can never catch a break but will never give up. Even when everything is against him, even when he can't seem to go on or doesn't know how or thinks he maybe shouldn't...he does. You could also say this goes back to the basics of characterization in general: will to action. The good, simple plots work because they are driven by character choice. To act and react.
We don't need a hero who never questions themselves or their world, but there is something truly refreshing in being able to see a young Peter or Miles acting heroically while still in the process of growing to figure out what heroism even is. Captain America based a lot of his ideas of heroism around a fight against big evil. Whether it be his mother's losing fight against illness or the allies verse the axis, his origin is essentially one of what happens when you give a truly stubborn idealist the power to punch symbolic BAD in the face. Of course this has meant different things for each generation of reader/viewer, but for me personally, I'd say this has carried over better than Superman's take on that kinda reasoning because of more complex characterization, a grounded sense of relevancy, and an ability to evolve that relevancy throughout the twentieth and twenty-first century.
Now, Supes is more like a mythical figure himself, and in many of his stories, there's a sense that most of the page has to be taken up by either reiterating how amazing he is or putting on some elaborate song and dance about how human he really is. For a recent example of why being NOT human can be a great thing for characters trying to fit into a human world, try Tom King's The Vision series.
At this point, it may seem like I'm too biased against DC. I'll not fight that point except to say that I think the best stories from Marvel, DC, or whomever else always have a strong recognition of who their characters are and what they're about, bringing greatness out of that knowledge instead of spending time and effort on trying to make us forget. Made-ya-look trickery is a great joke for elementary school, but not for building a meaningful relationship between writer/artist and reader.
So what does all this have to do with Spider-Man and violence? While, as usual, it's not what the story is about that sticks with us so much as what the story is about, y'know?
I LOVE Batman, but every once in a while, it hits me that the immensity of money and resources and training and intellect which power his punches may not come from a place of real responsibility. Maybe he fights crime because crime needs to be fought, but often it’s because what “crime” means in Gotham is huge gangs of well-funded, absurdly armed, illogically dedicated mercenary thieves with garish masks and/or team colors under the direction of a dangerous, brilliantly organized parody of our fears about mental illness. Of course, this comes out in the most obvious ways in video games and the action scenes of Zach Snyder movies. What I love most about Batman stories is when he’s a brilliant detective. I also love when the philosophical and psychological weirdness of the characters plays out with fascinating interactions. Still, no matter who is writing the character, Batman fights a self-perpetuating struggle against his inner demons by committing extreme violence against the poor, disenfranchised, and mentally ill. And y’know what? I’m fine with that. When it’s written well, we can get lost in a world where criminals are actually endlessly resourced, psychotic enough to distance themselves from us and make them intriguing but controlled enough to plan and act with extreme balance over long periods, and anyone who commits an act of crime deserves be punished physically for it. He is on a vendetta in a world designed to feed that vendetta. On a more meta level, this is for the sake of continuing stories. In-universe, I don’t think Bruce believes he has a responsibility toward justice as much as he believes in his personal war. Now, this is lovingly explored with his relationship toward Alfred, the Robins, and his JL colleagues. One of my favorite areas it’s explored, though, is with the charitable work of Wayne Enterprises. What does it say that such work is usually done in memory of his parents, who perhaps understood the weight of being responsible with their privilege in a way they never got to teach their son? Bruce is foremost driven by guilt and trauma. Maybe that’s hopeful that he’s able to achieve a lot of good out of that, but in many ways what makes the Justice League so great for Batman is that he’s around folks motivated by things other than grief-rage.
Spider-Man stories go in many of the same directions. His lack of money and resources are usually made up for with smarts, determination, and one of the coolest power sets in superhero comics history. He would be vastly over-powered, save for that his insecurities, lack of experience/training (depending on the story), and sense of responsibility tend to hold him back. Further is the less often explored ways in which his powers hinder his ability to function normally, though when it is explored it adds another lump of coal to this Charlie Brown’s stocking in the best sense. While Peter is driven by guilt over his part in the death of Uncle Ben, his largest motivation has always been a charge toward personal responsibility.
While many have had to earn Batman’s respect, in most stories he sets the bar—to be Robin or another member of the Bat-family or of the League. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it does rarely set up a chance for Batman to question his own right to fight this war. I. AM. BATMAN. And that’s all the right he needs. It’s an overly simplistic critique, but I’m not saying it’s wrong either. I’m saying it works for the character because it’s consistent, and when it’s played with in interesting ways that’s great. It’s an aspect of this hero, but I wouldn’t call it heroic. It’s not that he never doubts or feels unsure, but part of his character is that at the end of the adventure, he prevails because he is sure. He is who he is. Maybe that’s the hallmark of DC superheroes. The insignia on their chest is a license—a societal approval earned by dealing with certain people in ways the law won’t allow but we feel is maybe necessary. You wear the suit, you then go do heroic things.
Spider-Man is constantly having to live up to more than just his own self-made mantel. He decides who Spider-Man is, and he’s decided that Spider-Man is gonna use all that power to act responsibly. To act justly. To stick up for the little guy. At the same time, there’s a sense in which he’s Spider-Man no matter what he does. He’s got the powers and the problems even when he tries to throw away the suit or it gets taken from him. He’s got the responsibility to own up to because the world is always asking things from him, just like it does from any of us.
If Batman took a week off and Bruce Wayne took his private jet on vacation, there’d still be a Peter Parker-like kid somewhere in Gotham just trying to get by. Maybe the super powers take a bit of relatability away from that, but I definitely think Peter would be using his brains and his heart to do good without the suit. I’d like to believe Bruce without Batman would too, but for any sense of realism, he’d have to find a way to deal with that darkness anyway. Knowing all the other super rich, disturbed folks in his universe, maybe he’d be better or maybe he’d be even worse than Lex Luthor. But then, could Spider-Man deal with all the trouble in his life without the ability to inflict violence on his own city’s poor, disenfranchised, and mentally ill? I think his relationship with Aunt May, his friends, his optimism, and swinging on webs around his favorite city certainly help.
It’s a power fantasy, for sure, and there’s a place for that. As a victim of crime, of course I’ve fantasized about beating up criminals. BAM! POW! You bet.
I think we should question and be very critical of the way violence is portrayed as heroic in our favorite stories. I think the thematic motivation behind any character drives their actions and reactions most, or it should in well-written fiction.
So I’ll wrap all this up with saying of course that’s fiction. This is real life. Still, from where do we learn our lessons? When you web up some guy and bust his head because he’s breaking into a car, do you care that you messed up and it’s actually his own car? When you get obsessed with trying to prove yourself to a hero because of their legend as an icon, do you consider the economic and social impact of their war-profiteering? Maybe we’ll never have to live up to these specific situations, but it is important to think of the motivation behind our violent action.
Why do we want to be a global military super-power? Do we act out of a responsibility derived from the power we already hold as individuals and as a collective force? Do we act out of revenge or guilt or self-doubt or fear bred from trauma? Like Rachael said in Batman Begins, “Justice is about harmony. Revenge is about you making yourself feel better.”
Power and responsibility. Hand in hand. When we continually use our power to dominate over others; when we continue to neglect taking responsibility for those we’ve hurt; when we continually hurt ourselves by taking the blame for what’s not our fault; or when we feel unable to take responsibility for our own actions because of our sense of powerlessness—we gotta go back to our motivations, we gotta be sure of the information behind each situation, we gotta be honest with ourselves and others.
For the sake of justice, for the sake of right, for the sake of our own story as individuals and as part of a community, we gotta know the why behind our punch before we decide to throw it.
Thanks for reading,
Odist
