The Revolt of the Comic Books

America's superheroes take on preemptive war, torture, warrantless spying, and George W. himself.

Julian Sanchez | November 9, 2007
http://www.prospect.org/cs/articles?article=the_revolt_of_the_comic_boooks


A superhero killed the president this summer. Moments later, a shocked White House press corps watched as John Horus, his gleaming white-and-gold costume still soaked in blood, explained why. Because "the war in Iraq is illegal and predicated on lies," because "our people and theirs are dying for corporate gain," because of the "use of torture by our elected authorities," and because the president "stole the last two elections," the most powerful member of the Seven Guns could no longer "stand by while this administration commits crimes." In response, a terrified government imposed martial law, launching a nationwide manhunt for Horus' estranged teammates, whose reactions to the act ranged from horror to sympathy.
That bit of propaganda-by-the-deed launched acclaimed British scribe Warren Ellis' Black Summer, an eight-issue comic book miniseries from Avatar Press. And though heroes at industry giants DC Comics and Marvel have shown more restraint -- even after Superman's Lex Luthor won the Oval Office in 2000 -- the post–September 11 era has seen an explosion of politically themed storylines in mainstream as well as independent comics. While real-world presidential candidates invoke supercop Jack Bauer, of the TV series 24, as a guide to national security policy, a more nuanced debate about preemptive war, warrantless surveillance, and the responsibility that comes with great power is taking place in an illustrated universe.

In one sense, this is nothing new. The very first issue of Captain America (1941) showed the star-spangled super-soldier punching out Adolf Hitler, prompting criticism from both Nazi sympathizers and those who considered der Führer Europe's problem. Superman and Batman hawked war bonds while facing down monstrous racist caricatures of buck-toothed Japs. Frank Miller's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns and Alan Moore's Watchmen -- works that transformed comics in 1986 by proving that illustrated tales of men in tights could be serious, adult art -- were both steeped in their Cold War milieu. (Moore took his title from the Roman poet Juvenal's famous query about political power: "Who watches the watchmen?")

Nevertheless, the politically inspired stories of the "War on Terror" era have been remarkable not only for their ubiquity and sophistication, but also in the way they have exposed -- and sometimes exploded -- the political ideas embedded in the superhero genre itself. A famous 2002 cover of the German news magazine Der Spiegel depicted members of the Bush cabinet dressed as Rambo, Batman, Conan the Barbarian, and the "warrior princess" Xena, suggesting that neoconservatism is just comic-book logic applied to international affairs. But the efforts of comics writers to grapple with current events raise a corollary question: Is the superhero a natural neocon?

Probably the most widely read of the recent crop of political comics has been Marvel's "Civil War," a massive 2006–2007 crossover story line spanning the company's main superhero titles. The story begins when the members of a young team of C-list heroes get a bit too big for their spandex and challenge a group of powerful supervillains living incognito in Stamford, Connecticut. The ensuing battle leaves more than 600 civilians dead, and public outcry prompts the hasty passage of the Superhuman Registration Act, which requires costumed heroes to be trained and licensed -- and to disclose their secret identities to the government. The "powered community," heroic and villainous alike, is riven by the act: Iron Man and the Fantastic Four's stretchable supergenius Reed Richards rally support for registration, while Captain America goes rogue and begins building a dissident underground. The stand-in for the conflicted reader in this debate is Spider-Man, who is initially so convinced of the wisdom of registration that he unmasks on national television. When he sees the extradimensional Guantanamo being built to house resisters, however, he defects with a dramatic speech about the folly of trading liberty for security.

As the Abu Ghraib scandal unfolded in the news pages in 2004, the DC Comics universe found itself in the throes of Identity Crisis, in which it is revealed that a cabal of heroes affiliated with the Justice League superteam had been tampering with the memories of captured baddies to protect their own identities. An outraged Batman, who discovers that his own memory has been altered to cover up these acts, begins tracking superhumans via a vast satellite surveillance network -- which, naturally, falls into the wrong hands. Meanwhile, the Arab antihero Black Adam overthrows the tyrannical leader of "Khandaq," then kills the entire population of Bialya in retaliation for a terrorist attack on his country.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about these stories is why they fail. For as much as they seek to tease out the complexity and moral ambiguity of their themes, the authors of most of these tales clearly mean to convey a liberal or civil libertarian message. So much so that in 2003, the Foundation for Defense of Democracies released a screed titled "The Betrayal of Captain America," by right-wing pundit Michael Medved, decrying leftist infiltration of comics; that same year, professional bluenose Brent Bozell of the Media Research Center condemned Superman as a Ba'athist sympathizer. Yet when these stories go beyond leftish imitations of a previous generation's simplistic propaganda comics, the allegories tend to collapse under the weight of their own internal contradictions. There are, of course, openly conservative comics -- ranging from the ludicrous Liberality for All (starring a cyborg Sean Hannity!) to Bill Willingham's brilliantly layered Fables. But there is often a strong (if unintended) neoconservative subtext even in stories by left-leaning authors.

The "Civil War" storyline may provide the clearest illustration of this. The Superhero Registration Act is a straightforward analogue of the USA PATRIOT Act; the rhetoric of its opponents could have been cribbed from an ACLU brief. But under scrutiny, their civil libertarian arguments turn out to hold very little water in the fictional context. The "liberty" the act infringes is the right of well-meaning masked vigilantes, many wielding incredible destructive power, to operate unaccountably, outside the law -- a right no sane society recognizes. In one uneasy scene, an anti-registration hero points out that the law would subject heroes to lawsuits filed by those they apprehend. In another, registered hero Wonder Man is forced to wait several whole minutes for approval before barging into a warehouse full of armed spies from Atlantis. Protests about the law's threat to privacy ring a bit hollow coming from heroes accustomed to breaking into buildings, reading minds, or peering through walls without bothering to obtain search warrants. Captain America bristles at the thought of "Washington … telling us who the supervillains are," but his insistence that heroes must be "above" politics amounts to the claim that messy democratic deliberation can only hamper the good guys' efforts to protect America. The putative dissident suddenly sounds suspiciously like Director of National Intelligence Mitch McConnell defending warrantless spying.
http://www.prospect.org/cs/articles?article=the_revolt_of_the_comic_boooks

The X-Men have carried a subtext relating to issues ranging from privacy to civil rights. The series has always been about social outcasts and inequality, and was originally informed as much by America's civil rights struggles as it was by Dachau and the Final Solution.

I worked on comics based on a popular war-themed science fiction property owned by Lucasfilm. We had our heroes and villains as everybody remembered them from the original films. Imagine my surprise and disgust when I learned, in the months following 9/11, that this prize jerk Osama bin Laden styled himself as a young Luke Skywalker who had just dealt a mighty blow to the evil Empire. Stories got fuzzy after that. As fuzzy as the publisher and Lucasfilm would allow.

Yes, comics are often ham-fisted in the delivery of whatever political issues they explore, but at least they try, and I myself credit some of my own political and social awareness to things that I first understood as a child from comics.

that Warren Ellis hasn't found himself "disappeared" to Gitmo yet. Black Summer kicks ass. The art by Juan Ryp is very similar in style to Geoff Darrow. I'm an avid reader of Fables...never really found it to be overtly conservative. Liberality for All (insert laughter here) is an amaturish piece of shit whose stories are juvenile trash and the art (which looks like Stevie Wonder doing an impression of Rob Liefield) would have been at home at Image...15 years ago. Only one issue was solicited by Diamond Comics Distribution. It didn't sell well enough to be carried further by Diamond. The rest are available only throught Liberality's website.

Two examples are Snow's violent reaction when her doctor simply mentions that abortion is an option for her pregnancy and Bigby's frequent criticism of the French, of which, at least one instance (accusing the French of "ingratitude") could have come straight from Sean Hannity. Sure, that's only two characters but it's the two lead characters mouthing conservative views.

Part of the reason comic books usually deal with simple morality tales is because books with more complex moral lessons usually don't sell very well. As much as everyone lauds Alan Moore's V For Vendetta and Watchmen, neither sold in exceptional numbers during their initial runs (although both have done very well in collected editions).

I love the section dealing with conservative complaints, conservatives attacking the idea that characters and artists (comics can be art) shouldn't be allowed to express liberal opinions. Marvellous. Captain America has always been relatively liberal, as has Superman.In contrast, Batman has always been fairly conservative (as receipients of inherited wealth often are) but I can't think of many liberals who've complained about him.

Finally, the Civil War arc was a failure. The initial premise promised that the two sides would be presented as equals, both with good arguements for their position and the reader would be left to make up their own mind (which would have been novel, at least). Instead, Marvel chose to identify the pro-reg side as the bad guys and did so clumsily, having several pro-reg heroes acting wildly out of character to emphasise that they were the bad guys.

http://www.povonline.com/jackfaq/JackFaq1.htm">The Jack FAQ


Captain America's current scribe, Ed Brubaker, on Cap's politics:

http://www.newsarama.com/pages/Marvel/Bru_Cap.htm">Ed Brubaker on Captain America



http://www.comicbookresources.com/news/newsitem.cgi?id=3972">STARS & STRIPES: BRUBAKER TO WRITE "CAPTAIN AMERICA" THIS NOVEMBER

The article concludes that superheros are inevitably Neocon-ish vigilantes and that "sometimes, great power comes with the responsibility to not use it." But that seems like a cop-out.

What strikes me, rather, is that the superhero comics have relentlessly pushed everything into a model of physical combat. Even when a character turns up whose power is something non-agressive, like flying or invisibility or walking through walls, the writers have to figure out how to throw them into the danger room, clobbering away side-by-side with the brute-force guys. And the storylines are almost invariably resolved with a huge brawl.

Last night, I was reading through some materials from the week immediately following 9/11, and I was amazed to realize that the *instantaneous* reaction from the administration, within the first 2-3 days, was "we're going to war." They still had no idea what had happened, who had done it, or where the next threat might come from -- and even if they had, they had no real ability to deal with the asymmetrical threats posed by anonymous terrorists. Instead, their immediate impulse was to call up the reserves, appropriate more money for the military, and look around for a smallish country to beat up on -- not because that was the best answer but because it was all they knew how to do. That was comic-book thinking at its worst.

Unless we in general -- and the comics in particular -- can figure out what the real problems are in the world today and what sorts of special abilities might be useful in solving them, not much is going to change. And until we can appreciate storylines that are resolved by a revelation of hidden truth, or a reconciliation among old enemies, or a sudden reversal of fortunes -- instead of by a fight -- then we're not likely to accept those changes, even if the comics writers can imagine them.