Why I Prefer Superman
There is a divide among comic book folk: Batman or Superman? Most people these days, I would say, prefer Batman. I understand. Batman is great. In the Age of the Anti-Hero, Batman is King. He is an extraordinary human being who always has a plan, who has honed himself to near-perfection–he is the pinnacle of what a human being can fashion himself into in pursuit of an ideal. Batman is also a thoroughly Gothic character; the Dark Knight. Batman is the reason the criminal scum of Gotham fear to go out after dark. That captures the imagination powerfully, and I have always enjoyed reading Batman comics. To top it off, I think Batman has the greatest Rogues Gallery in comics, hands down. Superman’s enemies are comparatively ill-used, frequently mediocre, and somewhat one-note. I humbly acknowledge all this.
Superman, on the other hand, is a bit hokey. Mr. Primary Colors. His invulnerability sucks all the risk out of his adventures. His moral uprightness and incorruptibility makes him an unrelatable anachronism to many. And, to be honest, the writing in his comics has often been lackluster for decades. I can understand why people don’t care for him as much as others in the DC world. And he’s unpopular, I think, because of years of bad writing, bad ideas, puerile notions of what Superman is and isn’t– and because the American people are being taught not to believe in the things I think Superman stands for.
But hear me out: Superman is the iconic American story. An immigrant, an orphan, who finds a home in America’s Heartland. Why not San Francisco, Seattle, Chicago, or New York City? Because a farm in Kansas is a place where, even when Superman was created, old fashioned values remained. Superman was raised to believe in an ideal–indeed, he became the iconic embodiment of the American Ethos. He’s often referred to by detractors as “the Boy Scout,” but I would argue this is precisely what you want in a being with as much power as Superman has. Anything less than respect for the Constitution, for Justice, for Truth, would be terrifying. Consider Superman, (as he was considered in Red Son) in a more totalitarian state of mind: terrifying. Without respect for human life, without the “Boy Scout” mentality, Superman becomes something objectionable and frightening. An alien presence come to enforce its will. But that’s not Superman. Superman is what he is because of American Midwestern values: he is an exemplar. No mask because he doesn’t want people to think he’s hiding. Bright uniform, because he is a shining example. Superman is what most of us aspire to be (or should): strong, brave, powerful, just, and good. Who wouldn’t want to be Superman? On the other hand, who would want to be Batman? Batman lives a tortured existence. He is lashed constantly by painful memories that drive him on to obsessive heights. He suffers, and his life is a long night of doing violence and planning to do more–to be sure it’s for the greater good, but he doesn’t want to be the example. He wants to cause fear and be a deterrent. He wants to take down his enemies, breaking but not killing. Superman, on the other hand, is an example anyone (powers or no powers) can aspire to in acts that are helpful, brave, and noble. Anyone can follow Superman’s example. Few can successfully follow Batman’s, and few would care to. After all, Batman’s life is pain. Superman’s is difficult, but not tortured. Superman has relationships that keep him in touch with humanity. Batman must often withdraw–his is estranged to almost everyone he cares for, in the end.
In Plato’s Republic he raises a question about the Ring of Gyges–a magical artifact that grants total invisibility to whomever wears it. Is it possible that a man in possession of this ring could fail to be corrupted by it? Would he not use it to slake his lusts and settle scores? In many respects, Batman and Superman are both paragons of honor, but Batman uses the shadows, uses the darkness, uses his “invisibility” to instill fear in the worst of humanity. Superman uses the light to try to elevate the best in us. He is not corrupted by his power, but rather uses it to try to show others their own power, and how not to be corrupted by it. There’s no getting around it: Superman is an American Christ-figure. These days, that isn’t so popular. Church-attendance is at a historic low in this country. Mentioning Jesus in an unironic way is a bit of a conversation-ender in circles urbane and plebian alike. Consequently, there is an antipathy for figures that are “too good” in comics. How can someone “too good” be interesting? To my mind, writers have shied away from really asking him the hard questions: To what extent is he willing to let humanity misbehave? How far is too far before he intervenes in more than just helicopter crashes and starts to enforce international treaties? How much right does he have to punish sovereign nations for funding or carrying out terrorism? What does he do with all the information he gleans from “listening in” on what should be private conversations, and how does he deal with seeing the ugly truth that sometimes goes on behind closed doors? It’s not a question of strength and muscle, or bullets bouncing off his chest. Superman is interesting because of what he won’t do. How do you do the right thing and still allow for free will, individual choice, and basic human rights? These are important questions that, if I were writing for The Man of Steel, I would address.
As for patriotism, in the halls of the academy and in half of the political divide, it’s fashionable to dismiss much that might have been considered good or noble in the American character, history, etc. Today, “heroes” are best if troubled, queered, re-gendered, racially altered, or otherwise “updated” to be more in keeping with “the new normal.” I like Superman because he’s old school–and no matter what the writers do to him (and believe me, I’d like a crack and writing his comics) I will always understand what Superman is about: Truth, Justice, and the American Way. I believe in those things.
Batman isn’t hard to imaginatively transplant to Victorian London or Medieval Europe, (as Elseworlds lines have done) but I think Superman’s Elseworlds lines miss something essential in the character if he is not an American: he’s not dark, he’s not cynical, he’s a ray of hope in a world of possibility. That was us. That was what the American Revolution was supposed to be about. We were meant to inspire the world to throw off the yoke of tyranny and peaceably self-govern. That’s why Lady Liberty holds a torch. It’s a beacon. It’s hope. I want to believe in hope. I want to hold it up and say “This is what I believe in.”
I’m glad Batman’s out there in the night, keeping Gothamites safe. Being the watchful protector. And I love the Justice League entirely, but I will always prefer Superman because I believe in the America that Superman exemplifies. I think we can be that hope in this world.
