The Comics Professor

My thoughts on The Batman

Being online so much finally paid off: I saw the announcement of the IMAX preview of The Batman just it was announced about a month ago, and was able to snag tickets for me and my son before it sold out (apparently within minutes). Last night we saw it, and we both walked out of the theater speechless.

In short: This is the Batman movie I'd been waiting for.

When I write and talk about Batman, I focus almost exclusively on the comics. Don't get me wrong: I love that he's represented in so many types of media, and everyone has their favorite, but mine has always been the version in the comics. Notwithstanding the craft, talent, and hard work put into the films, I have rarely warmed to them. I have always said that in my ideal Batman film, you would rarely see Batman himself—you'd see the shadow, the silhouette, and people reacting to him, but rarely would you see Batman (and never in the light). Batman has such a mystique about him that it's difficult to capture his ethereal nature on film, even for the best directors, actors, writers, costumers, and cinematographers. Less is more, basically, and they should leave the rest to the audience's imagination.

The Batman came much closer to that ideal that any screen adaptation of the Dark Knight to date, and that's just one reason I enjoyed this film so very much.

WARNING: There may be mild spoilers going forward, although I don't discuss any plot points or details.

The Batman was sumptuously photographed, with so many breathtaking shots that I wished I could have lingered on (and surely will when the Blu-ray is released). The subtle score was gorgeous, especially when it took the place of sound effects, giving those dramatic scenes the feel of a silent film accompanied by music. In this movie, Batman is very much a creature of the shadows; most of the film is shot at night or in darkened spaces, and Batman is rarely seen in direct light, maintaining that ethereal quality I prefer to see. But at the same time, when we see his face, he is undeniably human, primarily due to the focus on his eyes, which was surprising effective. (I was also surprised how well the "half cowl" worked in retaining the classic silhouette while preserving mobility, and thankfully avoiding the bulky rubber cowls of films past. Was it inspired by Daredevil's cowl on the Netflix Disney+ show, I wonder?)

There are several aspects of Batman that I particularly appreciate in the comics that were also represented here. This Batman is more detective than superhero, working closely with Detective Jim Gordon on a series of grisly murders accompanied by cryptic messages from the enigmatic Riddler (with occasional input from Alfred). From the beginning, we also see many instances of members of the Gotham City Police Department reacting in different ways to Batman's presence at crime scenes, in the tradition of the Gotham Central comic, combined with the corruption in the police force, well known from Batman: Year One. We can tell that Gordon and Batman already have some history together from the enormous trust Gordon has for the Caped Crusader, whom he repeatedly has to defend to his fellow police. Even when helping to investigate a crime scene or observing a medical examination of a murder victim, this Batman is still and silent, watching and only occasionally contributing an insight, as if he appreciates Gordon's indulgence and doesn't want to overstep and risk this valuable relationship.

In general, Pattinson's Batman—and even his Bruce Wayne, whom we see much less than in other films—is for the most part still and silent, which makes the action scenes all the more striking in contrast (as well as the handful of laughs, mostly from other characters at his expense). There also seemed to be less action than earlier films, which will surely disappoint some viewers (understandably): Most of the movie was a battle of wits between Batman and Riddler, with occasional action scenes and fights primarily between our hero and flunkies or mob toughs, until the final act that ramps up the action quotient very dramatically. This is not a typical superhero film; in pacing and tone, I would compare it more to the Daredevil show, or maybe Logan.

Pattinson's Batman/Bruce Wayne is a tortured soul, which he doesn't even bother to hide when he attends a public function as Wayne. Maybe he will later, but this Bruce Wayne has not yet adopted the millionaire playboy persona to travel among high society; for now he couldn't care less, clearly obsessed (as Alfred notes) with fighting crime or, as he puts it, pursuing vengeance. Thankfully, this concept of vengeance does not involve killing, which he prevents another character from doing, giving the standard explanation of "you don't want to turn into them." (He also makes his dislike of guns clear in another scene.)

Speaking of vengeance, in what was perhaps the most surprising part of the film (in the best way), Batman has an epiphany at the end regarding his mission that is set up marvelously well, using a minor character that shows up only a handful of times throughout the film but plays an integral role in tying the whole thing together. (At nearly three hours of very steady but slightly drawn-out pacing, this was very useful.) Here, this young Batman discovers a positive aspect of what he does that can complement the negative aspect of fighting crime, and could serve to add a different tone to the next installment (although I hope it doesn't change the tone entirely).

Finally, the performances were excellent across the board. Robert Pattinson wisely chose to underplay both Batman and Bruce Wayne, using his face (which we see more of, even as Batman, than before) to show the tragedy that motivates him and the steely resolve that carries him on, despite discouraging odds. Zoë Kravitz was magnificent as Selina Kyle, portraying the self-determination and instinct for survival that allows her to prosper in any situation, both amongst the criminal element and alongside the Dark Knight (with whom she has undeniable playful chemistry, reflecting the best of their relationship in the comics). Gregory Wright was delightfully gruff as Jim Gordon; Andy Serkis's Alfred was not seen enough, but his few scenes were effective and heartfelt (even without the gentle snark often seen in the character); and Paul Dano was a terrifically unhinged Riddler (though he reminded me more of James Gordon Jr.), especially in the later part of the movie when he was not in his, ahem, questionable outfit. (Speaking as a huge Colin Farrell fan, I don't know why he played the Penguin as Robert DeNiro, but the character worked well in a role that sets him up well for future appearances.)

I went into this movie more curious than anything, but I walked out astonished, and I'm very eager to see what Matt Reeves and company do with Batman next (especially if it involves the character teased at the very end, which I hope they continue to tease for a while longer).

Why We Relate to Batman

Batman is celebrating his 80^th anniversary this year, and while he has served admirably as the protector of Gotham City, there is one mystery that the world’s greatest detective has never been able to solve: his own moral inconsistency. Many focus on his all-too-human motivation and lack of superpowers to explain why he’s more relatable than other superheroes, but most of us also share his struggle to reconcile the various elements of his moral code, which serves to make him a different sort of role model from most of his costumed colleagues as well.

Let’s start with Batman’s mission, the guiding principle of his life, sworn over his parents’ graves after their untimely deaths at the hands of a mugger: to save the lives of the people of Gotham, chiefly by fighting the scourge of crime. This is broadly consequentialist in its ethics, striving to do as much good as he can, both as the costumed crimefighter Batman and as wealthy philanthropist Bruce Wayne. At the same time, he breaks many common-sense moral rules in the process—he practices violence, often to the point of inflicting torture, and generally ignores the law when it is inconvenient—all of which would fly in the face of deontological ethics, which focuses on the right and wrong of actions rather than their consequences.

None of these actions, however, is the cause of his moral distress or inconsistency, because Batman justifies them all by how they help him further his mission. To him, the end does justify the means in such cases, which may be disagreeable to some (especially deontologists), but it is not morally inconsistent within Batman’s consequentialist mindset. If he believes that beating a reluctant informant senseless will help him save an innocent life, then he will do it (and he does it a lot).

For Batman, this reasoning justifies a lot of behavior that many others feel is wrong, but even the Caped Crusader draws the line at one wrongful act: killing. Countless times in the comics, Batman has refused to kill even his most homicidal foes, including the Joker, and even risks his own life to save theirs (yes, including the Joker). In other words, Batman will do almost anything to further his mission to save the lives of the citizens of Gotham, but to paraphrase the philosopher Meat Loaf, he won’t do that—he will not take a life, even to save many others.

This is the central moral conflict in Batman’s life: He refuses to perform the one wrongful act that would most significantly advance his mission and further his idea of the good. Here, his deontological convictions about means—perhaps his only one—run into his underlying consequentialist ends.

What accounts for his refusal to kill? Most of Batman’s explanations in the comics focus on the effects that killing would have on his moral character. For example, he worries that crossing that particular line will make him like the people he fights (as if their shared predilection for violence and lawbreaking weren’t enough). This concern is a key feature of virtue ethics, yet another school of moral philosophy, but Batman’s skewed version of it reflects an obsession with maintaining a virtuous self-image at the expense of the mission he has adopted as his version of the good life, and in the end, it furthers neither.

We could debate whether or not Batman should kill the Joker and his other murderous enemies until Bat-cow comes home. (Yes, there is a Bat-cow.) Certainly, comics fans have been doing this since before the first poisoned fish with a Joker grin popped up in Gotham Harbor. More important, however, Batman has long been debating this as well, both to himself and with his friends and fellow heroes, making much the same arguments I outlined above. He is keenly aware of this essential moral conflict, which is much harder to dismiss than using violence or breaking the law to further his mission. In this case, Batman has to explain what makes his concern with his virtue more important than his mission, or what makes the life he would take more important than the lives his foes would take.

Batman’s ongoing struggles with moral inconsistency provide us with a point of reference to consider our own. Most of us have a concept of the good we want to further, whether it’s saving lives as first responders, curing disease as medical researchers, or pursuing justice as policymakers or activists. At the same time, we all have moral lines we refuse to cross, such as those at the borders of lying, cheating, or stealing, and we also have ideas of who we want to be as people that includes but also supersedes all of these considerations.

All of this moral “material” is incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile and make consistent, especially when we have to marshal it in the face of hard choices. As many philosophers acknowledge, a faculty of judgment is necessary to combine, prioritize, and balance all of these moral criteria to make an actual decision. Philosophy professors teach the basic elements of ethics to our students, but as Immanuel Kant wrote in the Critique of Pure Reason, “judgment is a peculiar talent which can be practiced only, and cannot be taught.” Judgment is developed through experience over time (and many mistakes), and it is also be learned through example—and not necessarily by those who exercise it well. It is more important to see the process of judgment than its results, and fiction can be just as valuable to this end as the stories of real people, if the characters portrayed in it are sufficient complex.

Batman is indeed complex. Over his eighty years, he has developed into a fascinating character with a multifaceted ethics, and because of this he can not only entertain us but also inspire us. His struggle to reconcile his conflicted moral code, likely as impossible a task as eradicating crime in Gotham City, is yet one more reason he is considered so relatable to millions of fans around the world. His moral and psychological extremes may not qualify him as a role model similar to Superman or Wonder Woman, but his awareness of his own conflicts, especially regarding trying to be moral in several different ways at the same time, is certainly worthy of admiration and emulation. Among superheroes, no one lives a more thoroughly examined life than Batman.

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See here for more on my book Batman and Ethics, which you can buy at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or IndieBound.

Batman and Ethics — my new book coming next spring!

The news is out! As announced in the "Batman's Brain" panel at San Diego Comic-Con and in an interview with CGTN America, the superhero-and-philosophy book I've been teasing for the last few months is titled Batman and Ethics and will be published by Wiley Blackwell next spring!

Following the same approach I used in The Virtues of Captain America, Batman and Ethics breaks down the Dark Knight's moral code by looking at his actions and words over four decades of comics, from the early 1970s to 2011. By restricting myself to a period of (only) the comics in which I believe the character was portrayed fairly consistently, starting with Denny O'Neil and Neal Adams' legendary work and ending just before the New 52 relaunch, I try to show that Batman's moral behavior shows a deeply conflicted hero, one who tries to save lives and serve justice in several different ways but has trouble finding an acceptable balance between them—or even within any one goal. Instead, his actions and words reflect a mix of utilitarianism and deontology (with just a touch of virtue ethics) that reveals the value of each while demonstrating how difficult it is to pursue them at the same time.

The first half of the book covers the nature of his mission while the second half discusses what he will do—and will not do—to further it. In the process, I talk about issues such as:

1) Why does Batman refuse to kill even his most murderous villains even though that would contribute significantly to his self-professed goal of saving lives? (I discussed this in the first chapter of my 2008 co-edited book Batman and Philosophy, but I go much deeper into it here, including an extended ride on everyone's favorite trolley!)

2) How does Batman reconcile his widespread use of violence and torture with his mission—especially given that he often wields these tools against people who are not even suspected of committing crimes—and how do these actions compare with killing, which he refuses to do?

3) How does Batman choose which crimes to investigate or which criminals to pursue, and why does he give some a pass (such as a certain feline foe of whom he's famously fond)?

4) How can we explain Batman's often tenuous relationship with the Gotham City Police Department and his close friendship with Commissioner James Gordon—and how does all of this affect the pursuit and conduct of criminal justice in Gotham overall?

5) Why does Batman continue to train young boys to be his sidekicks when even he admits it's... problematic?

6) Is being Batman the best way Bruce Wayne can serve his mission of saving Gotham—and even if not, is it within his rights to do so? (And speaking of which, is it OK that he focuses so much on Gotham to the exclusion of the rest of the world?)

7) More generally, is Batman of value—to Gotham, to the world, and to Wayne himself?

Do these tough challenges suggest that Batman is any less of a hero or a good person? Not at all! If anything, it shows that he tries too hard to do too much along too many dimensions, setting himself up for failure to succeed at any one of them. But that's part of what makes Batman a fascinating character: he pushes himself harder than anyone can, holds himself to impossible standards, and beats himself up when he fails to live up to them.

It's also part of what him relatable, because most of us are morally conflicted in the same way. We all want to do what's good and we also want to do what's right, but we don't always have a clear idea what either of those means, much less how to settle conflicts between them. By looking at Batman's moral inconsistency, then, we might get a better picture of our own, and see how we might work on improving it.

Watch this space for more news about Batman and Ethics as the release date approaches!

So who had "Brian Michael Bendis moves to DC Comics" in the pool? Anybody?

Some random thoughts on the jawdropping news — at least for readers of superhero comics — that superstar Marvel Comics writer Brian Michael Bendis has signed an exclusive contract with DC Comics...

Wow. I mean WOW. This is huge.

I count myself as a huge Bendis fan. Daredevil was the first Marvel book I read, and as I followed Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark's run I also went back to read all the Miller and Smith, and then all the Bendis, and loved it. Then came his Avengers in the run-up to Secret Invasion, which is my favorite Bendis event, especially the carefully laid groundwork leading into it and the support stories in the Avengers books that ran alongside the main series. Dark Avengers and Siege were fantastic, especially with his multilayered Norman Osborn, but his Avengers titles began to get tired for me soon after The Heroic Age began. I soon gleaned on to his X-Men books (which I almost never read) and Guardians of the Galaxy. After the Marvel Universe died (but didn't really OK never mind hey look Miles is here everybody yay), his Iron Man work was brilliant, especially in the recent developments with Riri Williams and Victor Von Doom, and of course I love Jessica Jones (in all her Bendis incarnations) and Miles Morales, his two best creations. (Didn't like Civil War II, but oh well.)

In short, he represented a lot of Marvel was to me for the last 10-12 years, and I will miss his voice there (even if it has become less pervasive in the last couple years as his big franchises wound down).

Two obvious questions going forward are:

What happens to his Marvel books? I assume he'll stay on Iron Man until #600 (when Tony Stark will presumably return), after which the book will go to a heavy hitter like Jason Aaron (my first choice). The inevitable Ironheart book will hopefully go in a new, emerging writer, as should happen also with the Miles Morales book. Jessica Jones is too connected with Bendis (and Michael Gaydos), though, so I don't see anyone taking that over, unless she's wrapped into a joint book with Luke Cage. Defenders could go on with someone else, but it never received Legacy renumbering, so I expect it will be cancelled (especially now that the show is a memory) or re-oriented more towards the rotating line-up of the classic book (at which point it will be renumbered). I would also nominate Mr. Aaron for that. (Or anything. That fella's great.)

What will he do at DC? The best guess is Batman, whether one or both of the existing books (in which I would expect Tom King to jump to Marvel full-time) or a newly created book. Bendis has often expressed his desire to write the character (which was his sole DC credit to this point), and it makes sense given his focus on street-level heroes at Marvel, but personally I don't see Bendis' voice fitting the Dark Knight. (But I imagine this was the lure that got him to jump ship.)

The best fit in my opinion would be a restored Legion of Super-Heroes book: huge team (like the Avengers or X-Men), an entire world for him to play in and develop (like X-Men and Guardians of the Galaxy), and so much dialogue to write. (I love his style of dialogue, which would work much better with Legion or Titans than Batman.)

My fantasy pick? Restore Green Arrow to his old, ornery glory and give him to Bendis. Call it Old Man Ollie if you want. (I really want my Ollie back, and I think Bendis would be great. The return of three-alarm chili!)

In general, I do have reservations. I don't think it's particularly novel to say that Bendis is an intrinsically "Marvel" writer, much like writer and penciller Jack Kirby was before he jumped ship to do New Gods and more at DC, and more recently when penciller John Romita Jr. moved to DC to draw Superman. Frankly, I wonder how the patented Bendis voice will fit at DC. (But then again, Kirby didn't do too bad!) Given my poor opinion of the state of DC at the moment, I'm inclined to welcome any shake-up. But I also wonder if the addition of such an "outside" voice, as talented and inventive as he is, would get DC even further off-track at a time when they need to find their center (as promised by Geoff John's Rebirth one-shot). I would prefer that they engage Mr. Johns to devote himself to focusing the line (rather than messing with what should never be touched), and find a corner of the DCU for Bendis to play in where he can indulge himself fully (as they did with Kirby). Again, I think the Legion would be perfect for this, or maybe a new or reimagined parallel Earth. (Earth-B, of course.)

What do you think?

Six reasons why Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice is the best superhero movie yet

I saw Batman v Superman last Thursday, and meant to get a post up more quickly, but it took me this long to digest all the Snyder-y goodness packed into those two-and-a-half hours of sheer cinematic bludgeoning.

Let me list some of things I loved about this movie (there may be spoilers):

1. I was very happy when Superman broke the fourth wall and addressed the audience, admitting that he was completely out of character killing Zod at the end of Man of Steel, and apologized for the resulting disillusionment of the next generation of Superman fans. But the following 20-minute discussion with Batman about why heroes don't kill was even better, and validated my faith in Snyder that he never really thought that Superman killing could ever be appropriate. (In general, the in-depth treatment of all the issues raised in the movie was much appreciated; I was so relieved Snyder didn't just gloss over these points to focus on grandiose, emotionally-laden set pieces with little meaningful content or narrative coherence.)
2. Jesse Eisenberg's subtle, delicately nuanced portrayal of Lex Luthor added the gravitas necessary to offset the goofy antics of the title heroes. Most of the film was a bright and giddy celebration of fun-filled adventure and superheroics, and it needed Luthor to lend it solemnity to give it the careful balance between unrestrained joy and emotional depth we've come to expect from Zack Snyder.
3. Speaking of lighthearted fun, I howled at Batman and Superman's impromptu vaudeville-style tap routine to the Beatles' "Martha My Dear." It allowed Affleck and Cavill the opportunity to show off their dance skills, which will come in handy in Justice League (which my sources tell me will be a broad reworking of A Chorus Line, Snyder's favorite Broadway-themed movie other than all the others).
4. Wonder Woman was integrated very well throughout the entire movie. I was so afraid she'd be shoehorned into the end of the movie to clean up after the boys nearly killed each other (silly, right?), or used for gratuitous eye-candy earlier, but I should have known Snyder was better that. (That would have been a real sucker punch indeed.)
5. The dream sequence where Batman turns into the Punisher and then Superman turns into the Punisher and then one Punisher goes all Punisher on the other Punisher but it's even better because it's Batman and Superman and everyone really wants them to be the Punisher because wow the Punisher's just so awesome and... yeah. The seven-year-old in me who really doesn't understand Batman or Superman loved that part.
6. My favorite moment:  before the final throwdown, when Superman shouted "Speedos!" into Bruce Wayne's pool and Aquaman jumped out and said, "hey, I'm in a movie!"

I could go on, but I'll leave something for my review of the R-rated cut, in which I hope Batman and Superman can really cut loose and engage in some more uncharacteristically brutal violence and the rumored epic breakdance battle, which was too intense for PG-13. (Wait until you see Batman pop and lock... and load!)

Call for papers: 75 Years of Dick Grayson (Robin, Nightwing, Batman)

I'm posting this fon behalf of my Kristen Geaman, who's putting together a fantastic book on the hero who has been called the heart of the DC Universe (at least pre-New 52), Dick Grayson.

CFP: 75 Years of Dick Grayson (Robin, Nightwing, Batman)

Book Project

To date, there has not been a single scholarly book published on Dick Grayson, the original Robin who grew up to become the hero Nightwing and serve as Batman. In conjunction of Grayson’s 75^th anniversary in 2015, this book seeks to examine any and all aspects of Grayson as an influential comic book character and cultural icon.

We welcome contributions from all scholarly fields, including history, literature, psychology, philosophy, art, art history, cultural studies, media studies, and more.

Given that this project is the first of its kind, the range of topics is extremely broad. Possible topics include, but are not limited to:

-Dick's influence on the development of comic book conventions (especially as the original kid sidekick)

-Dick in comic-book art

-Dick's role as leader

-Dick's relationships with other heroes (Bats, Titans, JLA, etc)

*** We are especially looking for an article about Dick and his relationship with Barbara Gordon

-Dick in the New 52

-Dick and his fans (who they are, why he might have more female fans than Batman, etc)

-Dick and representation (especially the ret-con that gave him Romani heritage)

-Dick in fanart, fanfiction, and/or cosplay

-Dick in non-print media

-Dick and his villains

-cosplay

-looking at Dick through any number of theoretical lens: gender theory, queer theory, etc.

-Dick and philosophy, psychology, etc

Please contact Kristen Geaman ([email protected]) for more information. Currently, we hope to have first drafts written by the end of August 2014. That will give us time to circulate them among the participants before we write final drafts.

On Superman and fascism at The Atlantic

At The Atlantic today, Noah Berlatsky of the Hooded Utilitarian argues that Superman has not wandered far from his historical roots in racist fascism, which is even more reason to be concerned that anti-gay writer Orson Scott Card is writing Adventures of Superman. I won't comment on his spurious links between the Ku Klux Klan and Superman, much less his statement that "even at this late date, it's just not that hard to look at Superman and see the outlines of the KKK." (For a better look at Superman and the Klan, see this piece by Carol Borden at The Cultural Gutter, and for commentary on the links between fascism, Nietzsche, and Superman, see the chapters in part three of Superman and Philosophy.)

Berlatsky's main substantive points seem to be that 1) Superman is a "violent vigilante" and 2) violent vigilantism invariably and inevitably becomes directed towards the powerless in society. The first point is merely asserted but not elaborated on, as if readers would take this for granted. I think both aspects of this characterization of Superman are mistaken: he often uses force, certainly, but never disproportionately, and always to assist law enforcement when he can rather than subvert it. Batman has been known to cross both of these lines and has been criticized for it--see Colin Smith's review of the recent Batman #17, for example--but Superman has always been a clear counterpoint to this.

As for the second point, it is indeed a common storytelling device in comics for heroes to go mad with power, succumbing to the Ring of Gyges and abusing their fantastic abilities. This is an everpresent issue for Superman, the most powerful of heroes while at the same time a visitor to our fair planet. But this is a feature rather than a flaw: it allows the ongoing creators of Superman to depict the human (and Kryptonian) struggle to retain one's ethics against the pull of self-interest, especially as the power to pursue the latter grows. This highlights the importance of Clark Kent's upbringing in Smallville, where the Kents instilled a solid moral code in Clark to counteract the temptation of using his powers later. Of course he may let his resolve slip and use his powers for himself or causes he comes to believe in. But because he's a hero--because he's Superman--he won't.

So yes, a writer such as Orson Scott Card could use Superman's power to further his own agenda. But let's keep the focus of our collective disgust on Mr. Card, not on a superhero that, for 75 years, has shown us consistently how one should use amazing power for the good of others despite every temptation to do the opposite.

On Spider-Man, torture, and character in comics

Inspired by my friend Colin Smith's post on his blog, Too Busy Thinking about My Comics, regarding our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's questionable actions in Amazing Spider-Man #685, and then further spurred on by a vigorous debate with Spidey editor Stephen Wacker on Twitter this morning (joined by Colin and several other stalwart discussants), I need to put my thoughts on this matter down for whatever counts as posterity these days.

Although my comments will much be broader than this specific instance, here is the page-of-interest:

While Colin was firmly against what Spidey did in this issue, his larger concern (as I understand it) is with the lack of context and discussion of what Spidey did. No more reflection, no consideration of the principles or consequences involved--he just "did what he had to do." (Another concern of his was with the increasing proliferation of acts like this, one of which I mentioned in an earlier post, and is also related an another post on DC Comics' devolving views on killing.)

One issue that arose in the Twitter discussion this morning was selectivity when applying moral standards to characters. I was accused of sanctioning Batman's practice of child endangerment over the last 70 years, but not Spidey's recent transgression. I replied first that I wasn't sanctioning or condemning either hero's actions, and then elaborated on two points:

1) Batman's actions towards his various Robins have been discussed extensively in the comics--for instance, in Devin Grayson's wonderful Gotham Knights run, as well as Peter Tomasi's current Batman and Robin, which also deal with Damian's penchant for killing. (There is also a chapter titled "Is It Right to Make a Robin?" in Batman and Philosophy.) It is not the controversial nature of Spidey's actions, so much as lack of recognition of any controversy, that is distressing to me.

2) Batman and Spider-Man are different characters, with different moral codes, implying different limits and lines they won't cross, as well as different processes of judgment. The Punisher is different, as is Captain America, and Superman, and Daredevil. Even within the Batman family, we see Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all making moral decisions differently--and the fact that we can read that in the comics, that the characters are so well-defined that these differences come out, is a testament to comics storytelling.

It is this second point about character on which I want to focus here: not only is the lack of reflection or context in Amazing Spider-Man #685 troublesome, but it seems out of character for Spidey to do what he did. (To be fair, he does acknowledge this briefly--see the panel in the lower right-hand corner in the image above--but then seems to dismiss such concerns.)

Despite this long legacy in the Marvel Universe, Spider-Man is perpetually represented as the kid among grown-ups, representing a still-developing moral idealism alongside the more solidified moral positions of Captain America and Iron Man. We see this when he sided first with Iron Man and then Cap during Civil War (which I described in my chapter "'My Name is Peter Parker': Unmasking the Right and the Good" in Spider-Man and Philosophy, edited by Jonathan J. Sanford, as well as in this blog post). He also serves as the point-of-view character for events like Civil War, and he has gained the status as the moral center of the Marvel Universe--not in the sense that he is always right, but rather that he hasn't got everything figured out, and therefore he considers his actions like a conscientious young person would. For example, he makes idealist pledges like "no one dies," which makes his all-too-easy acceptance of torture all the harder to reconcile with his character.

Torture is a hot button issue to be sure, and deservedly so. You could say it's the ultimate "trolley problem," in which grave consequences will follow if one adheres to cherished principles. Several years ago, I compared Batman's continued struggle over whether to kill the Joker to a trolley problem and to the contemporary torture debates. Among its other lessons, the trolley problem (which Spidey has also faced, of course) shows us the difficulty of adhering to moral absolutes. It is too easy to say "I will never kill" or "I will never torture," no matter how high the costs, until you're actually in a position--as a government official or superhero--to have to accept those costs on behalf of those who will bear them, in order to maintain your principles. (For a magnificant academic treatment of these issues, see Michael S. Moore's paper "Torture and the Balance of Evils" in his collection Placing Blame.)

For that reason, I am no moral absolutist when it comes to torture (or anything else). As a Kantian I am a strong devotee of moral duty and principle, but no matter how firmly we adhere to a moral principle, there can always be another moral principle can that be judged to be more important--and this importance can be based, in part, on consequences. But this is a decision that everyone has to make for himself or herself--including fictional characters like superheroes that find themselves in these situations much more often than the average Jane or Joe.

As much as I admire the character of Captain America, I find it more believable that he, compared to Spider-Man, would engage in torture, with a tremendous heavy heart, when he judged it to be necessary. Ideally, his struggle with such a decision would parellel America's struggle with it. It would rip him apart inside, representing a betrayal of his core principles of respect for human rights and dignity, and he would only do it if the costs of not doing it were unacceptably high, as in the "ticking time-bomb scenario." (He would not, however, be as flippant about it as he was in Secret Avengers #21, shown at the right.)

As I understand the character of Spider-Man, he would be far less accepting of the "inevitability" of torture in whatever few circumstances Cap would. Spidey would want to look for another way, not stopping until he found it, no matter what the costs to himself (as with his "no one dies" pledge). If anything, he may be guilty of ignoring the costs to others of sticking to his own principles in the face of the "Ends of the Earth," and a thought process like this may in fact explain why he resorted to torture in Amazing Spider-Man #685. But we don't know this, because it wasn't fleshed out (at least not yet). As it stands, it appears that Spidey adopted this morally extreme course of action too easily, and that seems out of character.

Why does this matter? (This question was at the core of much of the Twitter discussion this morning, and is a point I explored in my other chapter in Spider-Man and Philosophy, "The Sound of Fury Behind 'One More Day.'") It matters because the character of Spider-Man has been around for 50 years now, and for the most part has been defined very precisely, to the credit of the dozens of writers that have told his stories over the years. He has changed and he has grown, but organically within the stories, not suddenly or abruptly--except in cases like the deal with Mephisto in One More Day or the incident that prompted all this hubbub.

That rare cases like these stand out is because they are exceptions to the "rule," or in this case, the character that is Spider-Man. If you've read his stories long enough, you feel you know him and you come to care about him, despite his being a fictional character. (This is the problem with the ciphers walking around in familiar costumes in DC Comics' New 52.) Just as we call out our friends for doing this that are out of character ("this isn't you, Jimmy, it's not who you are!"), we can think of our fictional characters' action the same way--even moreso, actually, because fictional characters, no matter how complex, are much simpler and well-defined than people in the real world.

If comics publishers and creators want our loyalty to their characters, they have a responsibility to portray the characters consistently--and if they choose to have a character do something surprisingly, they should deal with it in-story so it feels organic. The backlash against One More Day is a obvious example of readers' feelings of betrayal at out-of-character writing based on editorial fiat. On the other hand, the frequent back-and-forth between Cap and Iron Man since Civil War, each calling out the other's hypocrisies, is fantastic, because it deals with issues of character and consistency in-story--between the characters themselves, even!

To me, and to many other readers, Spider-Man never seemed like a character that would accept torture as an acceptable means to an end. If that is a true representation of the character as he's evolved, then I hope the creators will draw that out--that could make for some thoughtful and enjoyable superhero comics. But I also wonder what other lines he refuses to cross, and that fills me with despair.

Batman Incorporated #1: Grant Morrison (!) brings the fun to the DC New 52

I'm no fan of Grant Morrison, especially on Batman. But I will always thank him for bringing the "product" of Son of the Demon into mainstream continuity in the form of Damian Wayne, which has led to a Batman/Robin relationship unlike any that preceded it. Rather than purity of Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, or the loose cannon that was Jason Todd, Batman now has a partner with training and devotion that equals his own, but few of the principles that keep Batman from crossing the ultimate line into naked vengeance. (See this earlier post for father and son's discussion of killing from Peter Tomasi's Batman and Robin.)

Batman Incorporated #1, written by Morrison and illustrated by the incomparable Chris Burnham, continues the Leviathan storyline from the pre-relaunch title, but seems just as much like Morrison's own work on Batman and Robin (when Grayson wore the cowl). And it was fun! If I found Morrison's work in the Batverse very up-and-down before the relaunch, it seems like a breath of fresh air now. His "technicolor" vision of Batman is more than welcome, not so much within the current Bat-titles, but more against the backdrop of the New 52 as a whole, which is distinctly lacking in fun.

Don't get me wrong, I love what Snyder and Capullo have been doing on Batman, beating down Batman until he just can't take any more--and then he still comes back, because he's Batman. (Can't get enouh of that kind of story, sincerely.) And Tomasi's Batman and Robin has been a quality title, but Daniels' Detective Comics has been pedestrian at best, and the less said about Batman: The Dark Knight, the better. None of the other Bat-titles excite me either; as much as I wanted to enjoy Batwing, Batgirl, and Batwoman, they all leave me cold.

But Batman Incorporated #1, now this is fun. More details after the jump--and there may be spoilers.

Earth 2: The return of dignity and heroism to the DCU, or its death knell?

OK, the title is a little melodramatic, but I think this book deserves it. Earth 2 #1, written by James Robinson and drawn by the incomparable Nicola Scott, has me wishing (with qualifications) that this new Earth 2 were the mainstream DC Earth. (Its companion book, Worlds' Finest, by Paul Levitz, George Pérez, and Kevin Maguire, was also excellent, but pales in comparison to the cinematic bombast of Earth 2.)

I can't discuss this book without massive spoilers, so proceed with caution! More below the jump...