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This was originally a review, but it turned into an essay.
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ghostgecko's wonderful JLU fanfiction, Madness: Minority of One (if you like comics, faceless conspiracy theorists, or good writing in general, you should go read it right now), the Huntress asks:
"People like them [super-humans], they always either are trying to save the world, or to rule it. You never hear about an alien or a metahuman who decides to settle down to become a dentist in Des Moines, do you?"
Because I love answering rhetorical questions that nobody asked me in the first place, I spent my entire shift at Quiznos thinking about this, and came up with three possible reasons:
1.) The theory goes that someone with a talent will be driven to use it to its full potential. People who are good at drawing will naturally want to become artists, people who are good at chess will want to become grandmasters, people who are good at running and jumping and such will want to become basketball players. Thus, people with superpowers will be naturally drawn to being superheroes or supervillians in order to utilize their powers.
I never liked this theory, personally; being good at something doesn't automatically mean that you enjoy doing it. And who's to say that the best utilization of your powers is as a costumed superhero or supervillian? Someone with X-ray vision could be a fantastic oncologist, and could probably save more lives than if they flew around looking into villians' windows.
Another version of this theory is that a metahuman will naturally have some kind of superiority complex because they're metahuman. This seems likely, but is preventable with good parenting.
2.) There's no other choice for metahumans; the historical precedent is already set.
The concept of superheroes began as merely a plot point. The first comic-book or serial heroes were simply detectives or men of adventure, like The Phantom or the Lone Ranger. Superpowers were extra, used to resolve plot points and give a character a special gimmick; the best evidence of this can be seen in early Superman comics, where Superman was routinely given random powers with no precedent or explanation as the plot demanded it (super-breath to blow a ship out to sea? Hell, why not?!). Superman flew because he was a hero, he was not a hero because he could fly. As superhero comics grew more popular, the powers became secondary to the plot, and eventually it was nearly unthinkable to create a hero without some kind of special power (gritty anti-heroes like Batman and the Punisher excluded, but Batman was a holdover from the old days of detectives, and the Punisher was more of a social reaction to an increasingly violent society than the usual escapist comic fare). Comics evolved from being about a hero who got involved in plot arcs to actually building entire storylines around a hero's power and their reactions to it. Hero becomes superhero becomes superpower.
Thus, it's expected--by your family, by society, by you--that anyone with a superpower will immediately become a superhero, just because that's what's done. "Oop, I can shoot lasers out of my eyes and fly under my own power. Well, so much for medical school--better apply at the JLU." (Question: Does the JLU recruit? Do you have to submit an application and resumee?) In addition, there is the sense of moral obligation that would be set upon these poor metahumans: "You can fly and shoot lasers out of your eyes, and you want to become a doctor? Why don't you want to serve society by becoming a superhero? You're wasting your talents!" (I can see my own grandmother asking me this; she's already bugging me and my brother about medical school as it is.)
3.) They're there, you just don't hear about them because they want to keep their identities secret. The doctor who doesn't need an X-ray machine, the teacher who can keep her kids in line using mind control. Or the auto mechanic who can also fly, or the sub shop employee who can travel between the astral planes. This doesn't apply to Spider-Man or Superman, or any other actual superhero who has a "day job," because they're still superheroes, first and foremost. Metahumans who aren't superheroes or supervillians, just perfectly ordinary people who happen to have some interesting powers that others don't.
I rather like this third explanation, because it fits in perfectly with what I'd always imagined I'd do if I got superpowers. I don't have that kind of broad, universal altruism; I respect those that do, but I myself am either indifferent or lazy.
The only other option, then, would be to be a supervillian. But I don't want to rule the world, or take it over. I got out of the "I hate society" phase in high school; now I just want society to leave me alone most of the time.
I also managed to dig out a paper I wrote in high school for a philosophy class about why I disapprove of superheroes. My reasoning was thus:
Lawful society consists of a social contract between the State and its citizens. Citizens agree to obey the law, and understand that the State will punish them if they don't. Even those who "live outside the law" agree with this; while criminals may plead not guilty or insane, there are few who would be brazen enough to argue that the State has no right to punish them. Policemen and other law-enforcement officials are tools of the State, and thus fulfill the State's part of the social contract. Superheroes are private citizens, vigilantes, and thus are not part of the social contract. (The essay is much longer than this synopsis, by the way, and includes the somewhat ludicrous phrase "nonconsensual justice.")
All this is assuming that we live in a just State, one that is responsive to, and representative of, the people. (Ours: Not anymore these past few years, let's have a revolution--but you know this.) In such a State, justice and morality is based on the will of the people, or at least the majority of the people, and thus can be adjusted as times change. A superhero is not representative or responsive; their morality and sense of justice is not based on the will of the people, but on their own internal motivations, which may not have anything to do with the popular sense of morality. Thus, superheroes are not serving the people as they claim, but merely their own dubious ideas of right and wrong.
Superheroes, by necessity, believe in a strict and objective moral code, and that they are morally superior. Whether this is because of unchecked ego or an ubermensch complex is not clear. Moral superiority has nothing to do with any other kind of talent.
A superhero forces their own moral code onto the people they fight...superheroes don't necessarily know what's best for society. Batman wants to clean up the streets and punish evildoers, thereby serving society. What he and his fellow heroes don't realize is that these criminals are society; they're not monsters.
And so on in the same vein for three pages. (I got a B+.) Obviously there are a few flaws in the argument, but I still think many of the ideas are sound. Another part of the paper was concerning a dystopia in which superheroes and other metahumans ruled "normal" humans with an iron fist. This would probably be a groovy, if depressing, idea for a comic.
I've already stated my opinions about superpowers in an earlier entry, here: Rachel talks about why she didn't like "The Incredibles" very much. But obviously it's the moral philosophy of superheroes I really object to, powers or no.
Although I've only seen a few episodes with the Question, I still like him better than any other mainstream superhero (the Tick doesn't count). It's not just that he doesn't have any superpowers at all, although that's admirable. It's that he doesn't have that sense of moral superiority that most supeheroes do. His only mission or obligation is to seek the truth and make sense of a confusing and random world. And I can certainly sympathize with that.
In the same way, Tad Irving a.k.a. Tatterfiend is not your usual villian. He's not committing any crimes, besides vandalizing books in a library that's closed anyway--the only thing he's doing wrong (yet) is altering reality in some disturbing ways, but it's clear he doesn't mean to, or even know about it outside the library...and the Question is the only one who seems to have noticed. He's not trying to rule the world or destroy it, he's just trying to make himself as happy and comfortable as he can inside his shelter, protected from the outside world. And I can certainly sympathize with that.
In
ghostgecko's wonderful JLU fanfiction, Madness: Minority of One (if you like comics, faceless conspiracy theorists, or good writing in general, you should go read it right now), the Huntress asks: "People like them [super-humans], they always either are trying to save the world, or to rule it. You never hear about an alien or a metahuman who decides to settle down to become a dentist in Des Moines, do you?"
Because I love answering rhetorical questions that nobody asked me in the first place, I spent my entire shift at Quiznos thinking about this, and came up with three possible reasons:
1.) The theory goes that someone with a talent will be driven to use it to its full potential. People who are good at drawing will naturally want to become artists, people who are good at chess will want to become grandmasters, people who are good at running and jumping and such will want to become basketball players. Thus, people with superpowers will be naturally drawn to being superheroes or supervillians in order to utilize their powers.
I never liked this theory, personally; being good at something doesn't automatically mean that you enjoy doing it. And who's to say that the best utilization of your powers is as a costumed superhero or supervillian? Someone with X-ray vision could be a fantastic oncologist, and could probably save more lives than if they flew around looking into villians' windows.
Another version of this theory is that a metahuman will naturally have some kind of superiority complex because they're metahuman. This seems likely, but is preventable with good parenting.
2.) There's no other choice for metahumans; the historical precedent is already set.
The concept of superheroes began as merely a plot point. The first comic-book or serial heroes were simply detectives or men of adventure, like The Phantom or the Lone Ranger. Superpowers were extra, used to resolve plot points and give a character a special gimmick; the best evidence of this can be seen in early Superman comics, where Superman was routinely given random powers with no precedent or explanation as the plot demanded it (super-breath to blow a ship out to sea? Hell, why not?!). Superman flew because he was a hero, he was not a hero because he could fly. As superhero comics grew more popular, the powers became secondary to the plot, and eventually it was nearly unthinkable to create a hero without some kind of special power (gritty anti-heroes like Batman and the Punisher excluded, but Batman was a holdover from the old days of detectives, and the Punisher was more of a social reaction to an increasingly violent society than the usual escapist comic fare). Comics evolved from being about a hero who got involved in plot arcs to actually building entire storylines around a hero's power and their reactions to it. Hero becomes superhero becomes superpower.
Thus, it's expected--by your family, by society, by you--that anyone with a superpower will immediately become a superhero, just because that's what's done. "Oop, I can shoot lasers out of my eyes and fly under my own power. Well, so much for medical school--better apply at the JLU." (Question: Does the JLU recruit? Do you have to submit an application and resumee?) In addition, there is the sense of moral obligation that would be set upon these poor metahumans: "You can fly and shoot lasers out of your eyes, and you want to become a doctor? Why don't you want to serve society by becoming a superhero? You're wasting your talents!" (I can see my own grandmother asking me this; she's already bugging me and my brother about medical school as it is.)
3.) They're there, you just don't hear about them because they want to keep their identities secret. The doctor who doesn't need an X-ray machine, the teacher who can keep her kids in line using mind control. Or the auto mechanic who can also fly, or the sub shop employee who can travel between the astral planes. This doesn't apply to Spider-Man or Superman, or any other actual superhero who has a "day job," because they're still superheroes, first and foremost. Metahumans who aren't superheroes or supervillians, just perfectly ordinary people who happen to have some interesting powers that others don't.
I rather like this third explanation, because it fits in perfectly with what I'd always imagined I'd do if I got superpowers. I don't have that kind of broad, universal altruism; I respect those that do, but I myself am either indifferent or lazy.
The only other option, then, would be to be a supervillian. But I don't want to rule the world, or take it over. I got out of the "I hate society" phase in high school; now I just want society to leave me alone most of the time.
I also managed to dig out a paper I wrote in high school for a philosophy class about why I disapprove of superheroes. My reasoning was thus:
Lawful society consists of a social contract between the State and its citizens. Citizens agree to obey the law, and understand that the State will punish them if they don't. Even those who "live outside the law" agree with this; while criminals may plead not guilty or insane, there are few who would be brazen enough to argue that the State has no right to punish them. Policemen and other law-enforcement officials are tools of the State, and thus fulfill the State's part of the social contract. Superheroes are private citizens, vigilantes, and thus are not part of the social contract. (The essay is much longer than this synopsis, by the way, and includes the somewhat ludicrous phrase "nonconsensual justice.")
All this is assuming that we live in a just State, one that is responsive to, and representative of, the people. (Ours: Not anymore these past few years, let's have a revolution--but you know this.) In such a State, justice and morality is based on the will of the people, or at least the majority of the people, and thus can be adjusted as times change. A superhero is not representative or responsive; their morality and sense of justice is not based on the will of the people, but on their own internal motivations, which may not have anything to do with the popular sense of morality. Thus, superheroes are not serving the people as they claim, but merely their own dubious ideas of right and wrong.
Superheroes, by necessity, believe in a strict and objective moral code, and that they are morally superior. Whether this is because of unchecked ego or an ubermensch complex is not clear. Moral superiority has nothing to do with any other kind of talent.
A superhero forces their own moral code onto the people they fight...superheroes don't necessarily know what's best for society. Batman wants to clean up the streets and punish evildoers, thereby serving society. What he and his fellow heroes don't realize is that these criminals are society; they're not monsters.
And so on in the same vein for three pages. (I got a B+.) Obviously there are a few flaws in the argument, but I still think many of the ideas are sound. Another part of the paper was concerning a dystopia in which superheroes and other metahumans ruled "normal" humans with an iron fist. This would probably be a groovy, if depressing, idea for a comic.
I've already stated my opinions about superpowers in an earlier entry, here: Rachel talks about why she didn't like "The Incredibles" very much. But obviously it's the moral philosophy of superheroes I really object to, powers or no.
Although I've only seen a few episodes with the Question, I still like him better than any other mainstream superhero (the Tick doesn't count). It's not just that he doesn't have any superpowers at all, although that's admirable. It's that he doesn't have that sense of moral superiority that most supeheroes do. His only mission or obligation is to seek the truth and make sense of a confusing and random world. And I can certainly sympathize with that.
In the same way, Tad Irving a.k.a. Tatterfiend is not your usual villian. He's not committing any crimes, besides vandalizing books in a library that's closed anyway--the only thing he's doing wrong (yet) is altering reality in some disturbing ways, but it's clear he doesn't mean to, or even know about it outside the library...and the Question is the only one who seems to have noticed. He's not trying to rule the world or destroy it, he's just trying to make himself as happy and comfortable as he can inside his shelter, protected from the outside world. And I can certainly sympathize with that.
