Friday, February 12, 2010

Am I Too French For the Justice Department?

The Justice Department is concerned that I have been carrying my campaign for truth and justice to extremes. I was fired from my job as a paralegal at the law firm of Akin, Gump, Strauss, Hauer & Feld in October 1991. My French soul has been furious ever since. The Justice Department sent out two officers to my home on January 15, 2010; they were concerned with what they perceived as the law enforcement implications of my campaign. They voiced concerns that I seem to be an angry person -- too angry for comfort. My French soul takes offense at the Justice Department's inferences.

I cite a statement of a fellow Frenchman, Emile Zola, as evidence of my intentions and motivations in waging a campaign to vindicate my reputation.

In a famous letter written in 1898 the novelist Emile Zola accused members of the French government of wrongdoing and concluded by saying: "As for the people I accuse, I do not know them, I never saw them, I have against them neither resentment nor hatred. They are for me only entities, spirits of social evil. And the act I accomplished here is only a revolutionary means for hastening the explosion of truth and justice."

Like Zola, my sole concern is truth and justice. I will continue to write to further my aims. My anger is dissolved in the written word. For me, there is no other way to discharge my anger and further my goals.

Am I too French for the Justice Department? Perhaps.

But not all people who fight for truth and justice are French. I offer the case of Superman.

The birth of Superman shows that no one, not even fictional characters, can escape their roots. In the case of the Man of Steel, those roots lay in the Golem's Clay.

This new hero was built of rugged stuff: he was based, in part, on the ancient myth of the Jewish golem folklore at a time when European Jews were fleeing mass extinction; he owed the narrative form of his tales to both the Gothic Romances of the land his creators families' had fled and the American monomyth, the promise of success in this new land earned through hard work and traveling the virtuous path regardless of the obstacles one must face; and he owed much of his final form to the tales of swashbuckling male heroic figures immortalized in contemporary pulps and adventure films.

He was the embodiment of the alien coming to a strange new land and becoming the savior of the lesser mortals. He was the perfect escapist male romance for post-depression , and apparently remained so for the next seventy years. He also reminded the reader that the social order must be protected. Even though he was omnipotent, he chose to defer to the laws and social mores of man, a lesser being. He was, or rather is, the Superman.

Although Jerry Seigel and Joe Shuster's new Character was All-American, like most of the American kids who grew up admiring him, his background was tied to the "Melting Pot" streets of the Mid-West. More specifically, Cleveland, Ohio. This new hero was an immigrant who blended the best of the old world with the new narrative myths of America.

Even though the publication of the first Superman story in Action was primarily an experiment and no promotional work or publicity was done to draw attention to the book or the character, sales took off faster than the proverbial speeding bullet. In less time than it takes Clark Kent to change clothes, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster had not merely created one of the greatest fictional characters of all time, they had introduced a purely American icon to the world. They had also introduced a new genre of literature, the super-hero tale, as well as such now stock character types as the superhero, the super-side-kick, the super-villain, and the super-pet.

While tales of “god-like” men and the great Greco-Roman Heroes were nothing new, they stand apart from the super-hero genre (with the possible exception of Wonder Woman) in that, while the heroes’ powers may be a result of the actions of the divine, the hero is certainly not a puppet of fate, or acting as an agent of a particular god or gods, as were the Heroes of Greece, Rome, and most older Heroic traditions. Instead the superhero has to decide whether or not to operate within the moral dictates of society and use their power for good or take advantage of their strength and merely take what they want.

Superman followed the moral dictates of his adoptive, human, parents: truth, justice, and the American way.” This was an important lesson to be taught to those in his adoptive nation which, in 1939, was poised on the brink of becoming a super-power in its own right

Siegel and Shuster also introduced the concept of the secret identity to comics. Not in the sense of Lamont Cranston putting on a disguise to become the Shadow; the unique twist with Superman was simply that Clark Kent’s humanity was the alter ego.

Superman, as Jules Feiffer explained in The Great Comic Book Heroes, merely pretended to pass as a mortal to disguise his identity. Other heroes were, like Zorro and the Lone Ranger, mere fops who pretended at heroics, covering their face to protect themselves from the law when they engaged in their felonious assaults on others.

Superman was an honest to goodness living and flying version of Friedrich Nietzsche’s ubermensch, the nearly perfect form of humanity to which we all aspire. Clark Kent was, in many ways, Superman’s satiric take on humanity. As the bumbling, weak-willed, socially inept Kent, he was virtually ignored by all of those around him. Clark Kent had no hope of landing the girl, suffered from fainting spells, and was the focus of abuse by his colleagues.

Why did Superman choose such a self-abusive alter-ego? Feiffer believed that the primary reason seems to be that the Kent persona exists as both a pointed satire of the readers and as their connection to the book itself. The readers identified with Kent, the loser, and then quickly latched on to the escapist notion that Kent was just an illusion, a mere disguise, for a hero who could defeat the bullies, move worlds, and then get the prettiest girl. The reader saw themselves in Kent and received gratifying wish-fulfillment from the adventures of Superman.

1 comment:

My Daily Struggles said...

Annie Reich has written on the function of rescue fantasies in psychoanalytic work, and has dealt with the conditions under which they are helpful or cause damage. The rescue fantasy is a highly important psychic structure, on which the socially valuable behavior of many people depends. Yet the fantasy is the outgrowth of ambivalence . . .; it makes social behavior dependent on the object's being in a critical condition. A person has to be in dire distress before the appropriate social action is initiated, and the positive object relationship is usually discontinued soon after the object's full restoration. The man who is preoccupied by an excessive rescue fantasy seems to say: "If you want me to love you and to win my affection, you must first jump into . . .
K.R. Eissler, Talent and Genius.
. . . the water, . . .
Jack London, The Sea Wolf.
. . . the dark moving water . . .
Francis Goodrich, Albert Hackett and Frank Capra, It’s a Wonderful Life.
. . . of the . . .
Jack London, The Sea Wolf.
. . . lake." It is noteworthy to observe how often subjects in whose lives rescue fantasies occupy a prominent place, are deficient in affectionate behavior toward members of their immediate environment.
K.R. Eissler, Talent and Genius.
Talent and Genius, published in 1971, is itself a work of extreme eccentricity. It was written in response to another book, published two years earlier, entitled Brother Animal: The Story of Freud and Tausk, by Paul Roazen, which implicated Freud in the suicide, at the age of forty, of one of his early disciples, Victor Tausk. Roazen's book is trivial and slight. Its scholarship, like that of many other works of pop history, does not hold up under any sort of close scrutiny. But, unlike most pop historians, whose sins against the spirit of fact go undetected because nobody takes the trouble to check up on them, Roazen had the misfortune to attract the notice of someone who was willing to go to any lengths to catch him out. In Talent and Genius, Eissler administers one of the most severe trouncings of one scholar by another in the annals of scholarly quarreling. Like Superman rushing to the aid of a victim of injustice, Eissler hastened to defend Freud against what he believed "may properly be called the most brutal attack ever directed at him"—Roazen's insinuation that Freud was to blame for Tausk's death because, motivated by sexual and professional jealousy, he turned away from him at a crucial moment.
Janet Malcolm, In the Freud Archives.