Heroes: Where did they all go?

Nowhere. They just went down a few pay grades.

An epic hero-in-training who’ll one day undoubtedly be a rock star boss. Photo by TK on Unsplash

Do you sometimes get the feeling we’re gradually and collectively lowering the bar on all manner of once near-unattainable things? Simply meeting a deadline now qualifies you as a rock star in many quarters. Agreeing to perform a simple task - including one that’s part of your job description - makes you a legend, doing the task moderately well is epic, and if you do it a little better than expected, you’re a boss.

And speaking your mind on any mildly contentious issue makes you a hero.

In its early days, hero meant a demi-god - a mortal born from a god - who was likely to be in possession of superhuman strength and courage. As you’ve probably guessed, it’s of Greek origin. Where the Greeks got it from is uncertain, but one theory is that it’s from the PIE ser-, which means “to protect”. We can hear that root in words like conservation, preserve, reservoir, and many others.

Wherever the Greeks got it from, it’s been all downhill for hero since those heady days. By the 14th century it could mean any man of superhuman strength or courage, parentage be damned. By the 1660s, simply exhibiting great courage got you the title, and by the 1690s, being the chief male character in a play was enough.

In the 1970s, Tarzan, the 1912 invention of Edgar Rice Burroughs, was named one of the World’s Greatest Superheroes by Mego Corporation, which owned the licence to the character. Others to receive the august title were Superman, Batman, Robin (seriously?), Aquaman, Spiderman and Captain America.

In 1974, Mego added the Supergals Assortment comprising Supergirl, Batgirl, Wonder Woman and Catwoman.

Heroine didn’t gain traction in English until the 1650s, even though the Greeks and Romans had long ago recognised that possession of a penis wasn’t a necessary requirement for also possessing superhuman abilities. (Latin had heroine and Greek hērōine.)

Gilgamesh slaying the Bull of Heaven, and looking pretty damned pleased about it too.

Every culture has its heroes. Gilgamesh, who was probably king of Uruk two and half thousand years or so before Christ, became the posthumous subject of an epic poem in which, between the administrative tasks required of a ruler, he helps out the goddess Inanna, revolts against his overlord Aga of Kish, defeats the ogre Huwawa, and slays the Bull of Heaven.

The Iliad, The Odyssey, Beowulf, the story of King Arthur and La Chanson de Roland recount similarly unlikely but inspiring endeavours, and where would Hollywood’s Epic Movies Department, not to mention the Marvel franchise, be if they didn’t?

And where would the Antihero Movie Department be either? I don’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have the Godfather franchise in it (well, I could survive without Godfather III). And the world would certainly be poorer without Scarface, Goodfellas, Pulp Fiction (go Jules!), There Will be Blood and The Unforgiven. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that as a rule, antiheroes are more interesting - and a lot more fun - than heroes.

One important feature of most heroes is the presence of a fatal flaw. Called hamartia in Greek, it’s an essential element of tragedy. Debate rages in modern literary and philosophical circles about whether hamartia should be regarded as a defect of character - and therefore warranting blame or judgement - or something closer to a random occurrence that screws up a hero’s manifest destiny. You can hardly blame Achilles for having a dodgy heel, can you? Then again, Agamemnon was a bit of a self-satisfied bully who didn’t mind sacrificing his own daughter to please the gods, and maybe we shouldn’t be too upset about the unpleasant end he came to.

As for modern heroes, I don’t mean to be dismissive of modern-day people who perform extraordinary acts. The gentleman who threw himself in front of his family at the recent Trump rally is a hero, if ever there was one. (His name was Corey Comperatore.) First responders to crime, fire and other dangerous events deserve similar praise.

And if you speak your mind when you know it’s likely to be met with condemnation, maybe you, too, are a hero. Or, at the very least, a legend.

I just hope that in a moment of weakness you don’t drop your guard and allow your enemies to run you through with a sword. Or worse.

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Bits and specious

Tarzana, Los Angeles, is named after Tarzan.

Spotted in a recent blog post by American evolutionary biologist Jerry Coyne, “As I recall, but can't be arsed to check, insects evolved with four wings…”. Curious about an American using what I’ve always believed to be a strictly UK usage, I emailed him. “I pick up Briticisms from my English friends, like yonks and the British meaning of fanny, trousers, boot, knickers, jumper, and so on,” he kindly replied. Here’s the wonderful Jennifer Coolidge demonstrating how to pronounce arse when you’re not British.

As I was writing last week’s post on epicene, I couldn’t for the life of me track down where I’d come across the word. Now I have. It was in this wonderful Substack article from the formidable Benjamin Dreyer. Next week’s phrase: A Biden moment.

Reader Marguerite Durling writes in response to last week’s post where I mentioned the word gobby: “Last week I had a small group of American students on a tour around the Museum. I forgot myself and used the word gobsmacked which left my group completely nonplussed! Not only did they not know what gob referred to but also why you would smack someone there. I had a lot of explaining to do, which didn't surprise me as they were also ignorant of recent American history too (number of stars on the flag - Alaska bought from Russia - anything to do with WW2). Nice kids anyway and their Dad was a hotty too!” Go, Dad.

Is this the greatest ever contemporary photo of a grumpy 1970s rock and roll icon? (Scroll down a little.)

“The children of Shem were Elam, Ashur, Arphaxad, Lud and Aram, in addition to unnamed daughters.” Wikipedia sums up, in a single sentence, Old Testament attitudes towards women.

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Quote of the week

Scanning life through the picture window
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang
But Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
Misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries, "Where have all Papa’s heroes gone?"

David Bowie, Young Americans