The Comics Professor

Cap calls out Tony's self-deprecation in Captain America/Iron Man #2

Captain America is in a weird spot these days, and it has nothing to do with the Red Skull or Hydra. (At least, not that we know.) Since Ta-Nehisi Coates' run on Captain America ended in July 2020, the Sentinel of Liberty has been without an ongoing monthly title. (UPDATE: This changes in April, as revealed here.) Instead, he has been featured in miniseries with assorted friends, starting with The United States of Captain America, in which he worked with Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, and even that scamp John Walker, as well as a number of people across the country fighting in Cap's name. (It was an excellent series that I hope to write about soon.)

Currently, the Captain America/Iron Man miniseries features Cap alongside his fellow Avenger and frequent sparring partner in their first extended team-up since their three-issue story in #633-635 of Cap's team-up book in 2012 (included in the Captain America and the Avengers trade paperback). In it, they have teamed up in pursuit of Veronica Eden, an old acquaintance of Tony's who is trying to take over Hydra. Also after her is Fifty-One, a former member of the Fifty-State Initiative, an idea that Tony implemented after the Civil War, which placed a trained and government-sanctioned superhero team in every state (chronicled in the Avengers: The Initiative series). To complicate matters further, the rest of Fifty-One's team, made up for former Initiative members, is after him at the same time, which prompts some reflection on Tony's part about the Initiative itself.

Through it all, Cap and Tony engage in casual conversations that are quickly turn rather deep, revealing a little-seen aspect of a friendship that has weathered more than its share of disagreement (to say the least!).

At the start of issue #2, Cap and Tony confer with the former... Initiants (?)... who are actually calling themselves the Paladins, after this guy, I guess? (Odd choice.) After letting them go after Fifty-One by themselves (while planning to follow up with them later), our two heroes visit Tony's new pad to chat. Our host maintains the humorous, self-deprecating tone he's had since the first issue of the series, which seems like an effective defense mechanism when talking to the Living Legend of World War II, but as we'll see later, Cap doesn't allow it to go unquestioned.

I have to laugh at Tony's statement below, because this has happened so many times to him in one way or another. But it's Cap's response that I find more interesting, both existentialist in his emphasis of self-creation and authenticity, as well as Stoic in his recommending acceptance of events outside your control (both of which are reminiscent of the Serenity Prayer).

Next, Cap questions the wisdom of Yoda, again from the Stoic (and, later, Kantian) point of view that all we can do is try, acting on our best intentions, and whether we succeed or not is out of our hands, determined by the interaction of our efforts with the external world.

Let me put in a good word for Tony, though: What he (and Yoda) may have meant is that, from a motivational point of view, we shouldn't intend to try to succeed at something, because that openly acknowledges the possibility of failure. That possibility is always there, of course, but we need to put it out of our minds to maximize the chances of success. This also applies to making a promise, whether to yourself or someone else: Declaring "I'll try to do better" is not an effective as "I'll do better." Both acknowledge the possibility of failing to follow through on the promise, but the language of "try" makes this possibility explicit, and therefore can suggest a less wholehearted intention. (Wedding vows can be seen the same way: You can promise to love each other "til death do you part" while implicitly acknowledging that this may not happen, because it's only the intent that counts.)

I just love the next panel—all too often, Cap pokes fun at his habit of speechifying, and here he simply embraces it, but not without a touch of self-awareness that he can sometimes be a bit over the top.

After they catch up with the Paladins at a decommissioned SHIELD bunker where Eden and Fifty-One are holed up, Cap proves himself extraordinarily perceptive, seeing through Tony's armor that he's upset, this time about the failure of his Fifty-State Initiative, which ironically ended up creating the same problem that led to the Civil War in the first place.

Cap raises a practical issue about the Initiative, that the hero business is driven by demand, not supply...

...and then Tony goes and makes a completely unwarranted crack about my home state and I lose any sympathy I may have developed for him. (You were so close, Tony, so close.)

Cap acknowledges that Tony's idea behind the Initiative was sound; after all, Cap often recognizes that superheroes are too concentrated in New York City and on several occasions he has toured the country to see the rest of America and help people wherever they need it. Instead, his issues with his Initiative focused on how it was implemented, reflecting his opposition to registration itself during the Civil War.

I'm curious, though: Tony says Cap hated the Initiative, and it makes sense why he would think that, but I don't remember this being shown in the comics. After all, Cap was "dead" for most of the time the Initiative existed, and while he and Tony discussed the general principles behind the Civil War after his return (mainly in the Avengers Prime miniseries), I don't remember them discussing the Initiative specifically, which was all but forgotten after the Siege on Asgard ended Norman Osborn's "Dark Reign" and launched "The Heroic Age" with Steve Rogers running the show.

As they fight Eden's goons, Cap continues to try to make Tony feel better, but Tony deflects the praise with self-deprecating comments.

Cap isn't having it, and calls him out on it, but Tony continues, in a strangely humble-bragging way.

But Cap doesn't relent, telling Tony he knows who he really is, not just inside his Iron Man armor, but the emotional armor he wears... around his heart.

This exchange ends with Tony profoundly uncomfortable, as many of us are when "confronted" with sincere compliments, and he confronts Cap in turn in an attempt to change the subject.

All joking aside, this can seem weird, especially if you're used to seeing Captain America and Iron Man throw down over ideological differences (as I have certainly emphasized myself). But most of the time they have worked together over the years, Cap and Tony have been good friends, if uneasy ones at times, and I really appreciate that this miniseries has shown them reconnecting on this level as they work a case together, delving deep into both of their characters in a way that is better shown in their interactions than by looking at each character in isolation.

Putting law, corruption, and power into context in Devil's Reign #1

SPOILERS FOR DEVIL'S REIGN #1 BELOW!

In last week's Devil's Reign #1, the first installment in the Daredevil-centered Marvel Comics event by writer Chip Zdarsky, artist Marco Checchetto, and colorist Marcio Menyz, Wilson Fisk—better known as the Kingpin, and currently the Mayor of New York—has enacted a citywide ban on superheroes to get revenge on Daredevil for erasing his secret identity from Fisk's files (as explained in Daredevil, vol. 5, #20, July 2017).

In effect, it's Civil War and the Superhero Registration Act (SHRA) all over again, but with less nuance. There's no pretense this time toward registering heroes and holding them accountable, although Fisk does argue for his law on the basis of public safety and respecting public servants. Also, no heroes are supporting it this time around (otherwise than a few, such as USAgent, who are working for him as an enforcer). Hence, there's no juicy ideological conflict here—just an example of the nakedly corrupt exercise of power and the imperative of good people to stand up and resist it.

And, knowing Fisk as they do, the (real) heroes are resisting. As detailed in my books on him as well as Civil War, Captain America opposed the SHRA, even though it was legitimately passed by Congress in response to a series of disasters related to superhero activity, because he felt it violated the liberty and privacy of people trying to save lives. So naturally, he finds the current law, with the same effects, even less acceptable, given the source.

We see just how unacceptable he finds it after Spider-Man (Miles Morales) saves a child from a burning building and Fisk's shock troops try to arrest him... until a higher authority steps in (while also saving lives).

When Fisk's officer asserts that the heroes are actually criminals now, Cap explains (with undue respect) that if he has to make a choice between following the law and saving lives, he will always choose the latter.

This doesn't mean that Cap is dismissing the importance of law in general, much less placing himself above it. He's merely recognizing that law is not an intrinsic good in and of itself, but rather a means to the end of ensuring social order, at the least, as well as protecting lives and promoting broader well-being. Heroes pursue those same ends, as do public servants and first responders, all of whom are justified in making judgment calls in emergency situations to set the law aside for the greater good (such as saving lives). Ideally, they will be held accountable for those choices after the fact if there is any doubt to their propriety, and sometimes those choices will be found improper (if not egregiously wrong). But it does not serve society's interest to set the law above the goals the law is meant to promote.

Of course, this is all the more apparent when a particular law is the expression of the vendetta of a corrupt public official rather than a response to valid democratic concerns. Cap makes this clear to several fellow heroes afterwards when Daredevil claims responsibility for Fisk's actions, explaining how Fisk lost the knowledge of his secret identity. Knowing all too well what it means to take on too much responsibility, Cap tries to tell Matt that it's not his fault, and then reasserts his commitment to doing what's right, regardless of any counterproductive law that Fisk chooses to put in his way.

In the end, though, it's Luke Cage who gets to the heart of Fisk's actions, as he explains to a group of gawking New Yorkers assembled around him and his family what the mayor's true plan is: to manufacture a crisis and then claim to be the only one who can prevent it from getting worse (like a mobster selling "protection" against his own threats of violence).

Even Tony Stark, poster boy and point man for the SHRA during the Civil War, sees through Fisk, suggesting a novel way to work the system against him: He's running for mayor. (Can Luke run instead?)

Before I sign off, I have to share this fantastic scene (sorry) featuring the ever-lovin' Thing as Fisk's stormtroopers break into the Fantastic Four's home:

If there's one thing that will get gentle Ben mad, it's someone threatening children, especially his family—just look at his face in the bottom panel.

Needless to say, it is clobberin' time indeed.

New interviews and articles about Captain America: Civil War and my book, A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War

It's been an exciting couple of weeks around the release of Captain America: Civil War, with several articles, interviews, and a review of my book A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Civil War appearing online. I collect them all on the dedicated page for the book at profmdwhite.com, but I thought a Comics Professor blog update was called for as well.

1. I did two interviews about the movie, its relation to the comics, and the ethics and politics behind both:

"A Philosopher Watches... Captain America: Civil War," interview with Skye Cleary for the Blog of the APA (American Philosophical Association), May 10, 2016

"The Post-9/11 Ethics of Captain America: Civil War," interview with Katie Kilkenny for Pacific Standard, May 9, 2016

2. Michael Dudley of the University of Winnipeg reviewed my book for the Winnipeg Free Press on May 7, 2016 in "Civil discourse: Comics book series says plenty on liberty, security and morals," containing the immortal attribution, "something of a rock star in the world of comics." (I wish!)

3. Finally, I wrote two pieces based on my book and the Civil War comics (before the movie came out):

"What Can We Learn from Watching a Superhero Civil War?" Psychology Today blog, May 3, 2016

"Captain America: Civil War -- conflicted heroes and a clash of philosophies," The Guardian, April 21, 2016

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Even though it's "old news" by now, I'm also very happy with my chat with Scott Niswander for his Nerdsync podcast:

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As always, if you like any of this stuff, let me know on Twitter and check out my book, A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Civil War, available now!

My thoughts on Captain America: Civil War (No spoilers!)

OK, no surprise... I loved Captain America: Civil War. I was fairly certain I'd like it, of course, but it surpassed my expectations, which were well heightened by all the positive  comments from everyone who saw it before me. (And that seems to be everyone I know. I will have my revenge, mark my words.)

So here are some scatted thoughts, as usual... (If I had no shame I would title this post "7 Things I Loved about Captain America: Civil War... and 1 I Didn't," but with any luck Google will pick up on that anyway.)

1. The movie was very well paced, and I was never tempted to check the time, which is impressive for a 147-minute movie. There was a point at which I thought the movie could have been essentially finished, except there was a scene from the trailers that hadn't come up yet, but this was a minor lull.

2. Despite the inclusion of a dozen heroes, several of them appearing throughout the film, the Russo brothers did a great job keeping the focus most of the time on Cap and the main secondary characters, Falcon, Bucky, and Iron Man. There were times that it did feel like an Avengers movie—especially during the fight scene between the two teams, which was much longer (and better) than I expected—but these spots were occasional enough that the movie still felt like a Cap movie. (Although, to be fair, there was enough substantial Iron Man content that it almost could have been titled something stupid like Captain America v Iron Man. Like anyone would do that.)

3. The story itself was not as close to the comics version as I expected—and I didn't expect it to be very close at all—but I think the changes worked well within the context of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. For instance, as many people noted ahead of the film, not many of the heroes we've seen in the films have secret identities, so that aspect of the comics story wouldn't translate well to the film, and it was wisely left out. Nonetheless, the movie did touch of several iconic images and lines from the comics, which I found enormously gratifying (being rather fond of the comics, as you may have heard). Would I have loved more explicit discussion of the issues underlying the conflict? Of course, but I was satisfied with how much there was, and the dialogue on this front was concise and on target, hitting the most important points of the debate. (I expect to be talking more about that aspect of the film in the near future.)

4. The action scenes were simply incredible, both those with two characters as well as a dozen, and felt more visceral than Whedon's in the two Avengers films, even when all the heroes were onscreen at the same time. Maybe it was the Russo brothers' more subdued color palette, or the slight jerkiness of the camera (which, to be honest, became somewhat tiresome), but these scenes were more reminiscent of a war movie (appropriately enough) than a traditional superhero film. Kudos to everyone involved in these scenes, most of all the sound people—every time one of the heroes got hit, was thrown in a wall, or fell 50 feet to the ground, I flinched thanks to the combination of performance, cinematography, and especially the sound effects. (But at the same time, even when Cap and Iron Man went all out on each other, there was none of the senseless brutality we saw in that other superhero battle movie this year.)

5. Black Panther... ah, my king! He could have easily been the star of this movie if any of the other characters had let me down, and I am looking forward even more (if that were possible) to his solo film. Chadwick Boseman gave T'Challa a thoroughly regal demeanor, with the perfect combination of determination, class, and fierceness. The Panther's movements were magnificently graceful, especially the way he would land after a jump or being thrown. And even with his short time in the film, we saw his character experience growth.

6. I am a big fan of both Tobey Maguire's and Andrew Garfield's portrayals of Peter Parker/Spider-Man (though not necessarily of every film they were in), and Tom Holland's version adds yet another unique take on the character. He played a relatively small role in the movie, and didn't have much to do with the Civil War storyline itself (unlike in the comics, where he was a major player), but we see much more of him than I expected, in and out of costume.

7. The Stan Lee cameo was perfect. 'Nuff said.

If I have one criticism with the film, it's with the ending. I can't say much more without giving anything away, so I'll just say that I thought some things were left unresolved, but I trust the Russo brothers to be setting up their first Avengers film (which cannot come soon enough).

The ending notwithstanding, I thought the movie was exceptional. It was more of an action movie than a political one, but there was enough of the latter to make this fan of the comics story happy.

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As I mentioned, I have a number of interviews planned over the next week in which I'll speak to the ideological debates in the movie and the comics, so stay tuned, both here and on Twitter. And don't forget to check out my book, A Philosopher Reads...Marvel Comics' Civil War: Exploring the Moral Judgment of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man, available now!

Now available, in print and ebook: A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War

At long last, today is the release day for A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Civil War: Exploring the Moral Judgment of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man, published by Ockham Publishing in both paperback and ebook.

Comic book readers and moviegoers love to see superheroes fight, whether to protect innocent people from supervillains or to save the world from invaders from outer space. But superheroes also fight each other, and if we can look past the energy blasts and earth-shattering punches, we can find serious disagreements over principles and ethics. This was certainly the case when Captain America and Iron Man went head-to-head over liberty and security in Marvel Comics’ epic Civil War storyline, a fictional allegory to post-9/11 America (as well as the basis for the third Captain America film).

In his latest book, Mark D. White, author of The Virtues of Captain America and editor of Iron Man and Philosophy, carefully leads you through the ethical thinking of the three characters on the front lines of the Civil War:

Iron Man, who has taken charge of the US government’s efforts to register and train superheroes to enhance safety and security

Captain America, who leads the resistance against registration in the name of individual liberty and privacy

Spider-Man, who is torn between his two mentors and has a uniquely personal stake in the battle

In his characteristically light and humorous tone, White lays out the basic ethical foundations of each hero’s thinking and highlights the moral judgment each must use to put his ethics into action. He also explains how the Civil War affected the three heroes after the battle ended and how the experience continued to test them in very different ways as events in the Marvel Universe continued to unfold. Finally, he uses examples from Civil War to show how conflicting principles such as liberty and security must be balanced in the real world, lest both be lost.

Written in a style that will be easily accessible to those new to philosophy or superhero comics, A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics’ Civil War will be a fascinating read for diehard comics fans and philosophy buffs as well.

If you want to find out more about the book, there are several places to look (and listen):

• My podcast with Nerdsync, in which Scott Niswander and I covered many of the topics and issues in my book, the Civil War comics, and what we could surmise about the upcoming movie, and still only seemed to scratch the surface!

• The lectures I gave at Northwood University on the topic of superheroes, liberty, and security, the video of which can be found here (although the player can be very touchy with respect to browsers, with Internet Explorer and Edge working the best, and Firefox sometimes).
• Comics Worth Reading generously ran a brief excerpt from the book on their website (and The Philosopher's Magazine is planning on doing the same in an upcoming issue).
• Finally, Troy Powell (a contributor to The Avengers and Philosophy) interviewed me about the book for Graphic Policy.

I am available for interviews, podcasts, signings, or lectures—just contact me at [email protected].

If you read the book, please let me know what you think, either in the comments here; on Amazon, Goodreads, or elsewhere; or on Twitter (@profmdwhite) or email ([email protected]).

Announcing my first self-published book: A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War

UPDATE: See new publication and ordering details—new post coming soon with new cover!

It's finally here, my long-promised book on Marvel Comics' Civil War storyline and my initial foray into self-publishing with Amazon's Kindle Direct, publishing on February 3 and available now for pre-order: is now being published by Ockham Publishing in print and ebook formats and is available for pre-order on Amazon:

A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War: Exploring the Moral Judgments of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man

From the promotional copy that someone other than me definitely wrote:

Comic book readers and moviegoers love to see superheroes fight, whether to protect innocent people from supervillains or to save the world from invaders from outer space. But superheroes also fight each other, and if we can look past the energy blasts and earth-shattering punches, we can find serious disagreements over principles and ethics. This was certainly the case when Captain America and Iron Man went head-to-head over liberty and security in Marvel Comics’ epic Civil War storyline, a fictional allegory to post-9/11 America (as well as the basis for the third Captain America film).

In his latest book, Mark D. White, author of The Virtues of Captain America and editor of Iron Man and Philosophy, carefully leads you through the ethical thinking of the three characters on the front lines of the Civil War:

Iron Man, who has taken charge of the US government’s efforts to register and train superheroes to enhance safety and security

Captain America, who leads the resistance against registration in the name of individual liberty and privacy

Spider-Man, who is torn between his two mentors and has a uniquely personal stake in the battle

In his characteristically light and humorous tone, White lays out the basic ethical foundations of each hero’s thinking and highlights the moral judgment each must use to put his ethics into action. He also explains how the Civil War affected the three heroes after the battle ended and how the experience continued to test them in very different ways as events in the Marvel Universe continued to unfold. Finally, he uses examples from Civil War to show how conflicting principles such as liberty and security must be balanced in the real world, lest both be lost.

Written in a style that will be easily accessible to those new to philosophy or superhero comics, A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics’ Civil War will be a fascinating read for diehard comics fans and philosophy buffs as well.

Although I've wanted to write about Civil War for a long time, and touched on it in The Virtues of Captain America as well as essays for Iron Man and Philosophy and Spider-Man and Philosophy, the late October 2014 announcement of Captain America: Civil War kicked plans for a full-length treatment into gear.

I originally planned to focus on the larger political issues in the book, but then decided to change the focus to what I really enjoy writing about: the characters themselves. This allowed me to explore the three heroes' different ethical frameworks, the way each used his judgment to put their ethics into action, and how their choices affected them during the Civil War as well as afterwards. Iron Man had the longest arc, which carried him through World War Hulk, the Secret Invasion, Norman Osborn's "Dark Reign," and the Siege of Asgard. Cap's and Spidey's arcs following the Civil War were shorter, for different reasons, but are just as fascinating, with Cap's nicely dovetailing with Iron Man's during the Siege.

As you might guess from the title—and especially from the banner atop the marvelous cover designed by the incomparable S.L. Johnson, a wonderful collaborator and adviser on this project whose work you can see here—I have a mind to publish more A Philosopher Reads... ebooks on various superhero characters and storylines in the future. (The title was inspired by books like this and is meant to suggest that this is only one philosopher's reading of Civil War, and is in no way definitive, much less comprehensive.) I will continue to publish superhero-related books with traditional publishers when our interests coincide; I'm working on one at the moment and in discussions to do another. But the self-published ebook format allows me the freedom to write on whatever I want, regardless of the availability of "promotional moments" like films or TV series, and at whatever length I choose; A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War is the same length as The Virtues of Captain America, but future ones may be shorter if appropriate. (But my epic treatment of Green Arrow's classic Van Dyke will naturally be a three-volume set.)

The other person without whom I could never have done this is my intrepid copyeditor Louise Spencely, who also worked on The Virtues of Captain America and Superman and Philosophy. Not only does she find all of my embarrassing typos and unforgivable offenses to grammar, logic, and common sense, she also "gets" my style and voice and helps it come out more clearly. On the top of all this, she was invaluable to helping me format the manuscript for Kindle, not only on technical matters but also finding the most attractive font and layout. (You can learn more about her here.)

If you liked The Virtues of Captain America or my essays in various books in the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series, or if you love Civil War and these characters as much as I do, or even if you just like a little philosophy with your superheroes (or vice versa), please check out A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War: Exploring the Moral Judgment of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man and let me know what you think!

Captain America and the Neglected Role of Moral Judgment

Imagine you’re a leader in your community, fighting on behalf of a principle for which you are personally willing to sacrifice anything. Your own well-being is of no concern to you as long as your actions are protecting and promoting the ideal in which you believe so strongly. One day, however, you notice that your actions are hurting those around you, both those who are similarly invested in your cause as well as others who are not involved—including, perhaps, many whom you’re trying to help. You may even be winning the fight, until you notice that its costs, especially those borne by others, are simply getting too high to bear. Do you fight on, regardless of the cost, or do you stop, cutting the losses but losing the larger fight?

This sounds like the type of hypothetical situation that philosophy professors give to their students to work through. But it’s not hypothetical to people around the world who fight for social justice, gladly sacrificing their own livelihoods for their cause, while perhaps also inflicting collateral damage on others. It’s also a situation that the superhero Captain America faced in the Marvel Comics storyline “Civil War” in which he defended the freedoms of his fellow heroes against a law that would compel them to reveal their secret identities to the government and register as agents of the state.

When we think of complex and nuanced moral decision-making, comic book superheroes probably don’t immediately spring to mind. If they did, most people would choose the psychologically complex Batman rather than the flag-waving Captain America. “Cap” is often criticized, by fans in the real world as well as his fellow heroes in the Marvel Universe, as embodying old-fashioned, “black-and-white” ethical thinking that is anachronistic in our modern, morally ambiguous world. What Cap actually shows, however, is how values are of no use in realistic moral dilemmas without the essential faculty of judgment.

Each of the three major schools of moral philosophy needs the help of judgment to result in specific actions. Unique among them, virtue ethics highlights the importance of nuanced and contextual decision-making, such as in Aristotle’s emphasis on practical judgment (phronesis). Virtue ethicists recommend the cultivation of character traits such as honesty that promote moral action but stop short of formulating rules to guide it, leaving it to judgment to determine how to balance virtues in any given ethical dilemma.

Judgment is essential to the other two schools of ethics as well, although this is often minimized in favor of their rule-focused aspects. Utilitarianism seems straightforward once you get to the final step, adding up the effect of individual utilities and comparing this sum to alternatives. But the process of determining those utilities, as well as deciding whose utilities to include and which contingencies you want to account for, require judgment—and the result can have an enormous impact on whether the utilitarian calculation results in a “yea” or “nay.”

Deontology, which emphasizes duties and principles, seems more clear-cut, avoiding the messy empirical details of moral dilemmas. But it has no obvious way to deal with conflicts between two duties or principles, nor to decide when the costs of standing by principle become too great. Even Immanuel Kant, a strict deontologist, stressed the necessity of judgment, which he considered “a peculiar talent which can be practiced only, and cannot be taught” (Critique of Pure Reason, A133/B172). As Onora O’Neill wrote about Kant, “Discussions of judgment . . . are ubiquitous in Kant’s writings. He never assumes agents can move from principles of duty, or from other principles of action, to se­lecting a highly specific act in particular circumstances without any process of judg­ment. He is as firm as any devotee of Aristotelian phronesis in maintaining that prin­ciples of action are not algorithms and do not entail their own applications” (“Kant: Rationality as Practical Reason,” in The Oxford Handbook of Rationality, edited by Alfred R. Mele and Piers Rawling, p. 104).

While Captain America’s moral character is based on virtues and duties—giving the impression of simplistic, “right and wrong” thinking—he shows the importance of moral judgment in balancing these moral factors before making a decision. Take the example from the Marvel “Civil War” that led off this essay: at the end of the story (Civil War #7, January 2007), Captain America and his allies were winning the climactic battle against Iron Man and other heroes defending superhero registration. As Captain America was about to deliver the final blow against his fellow Avenger, a group of ordinary people pulled Cap away and showed him how the battle had destroyed much of Manhattan. After realizing how much the battle was costing the residents of New York, he signaled to his allies to stop fighting and surrendered. Cap didn’t abandon his principle of freedom; he simply decided it was no longer worth the cost it was imposing on others. His values didn’t change—but his judgment did.

Simple rules such as “stand by your principles” or “minimize harm” are no good in situations like this. Captain America had to keep both of these rules in mind and balance them using his judgment. As Kant emphasized, there is no way to explain judgment as a rule or algorithm; rather it is what a person turns to when rules or algorithms fail to solve a moral problem. In this way judgment resembles Ronald Dworkin’s theory of judicial decision-making, in which a judge balances the various principles relevant to a “hard case” according to the principles and ideals he or she believes best explain the broader legal system. Similarly, in a moral dilemma a person must balance his or her various principles and beliefs to arrive at a decision that maintains the integrity of his or her moral character.

Captain America’s core principles and virtues may be “black and white,” but the way that he balances them is complex, nuanced, and sensitive to context. In the dramatic, life-threatening situations he faces in his comic books and movies, Cap demonstrates how the basic ideas of ethics serve merely as guidelines that by themselves cannot determine the best or right action on their own. As the narration to Captain America, vol. 1, #184 (April 1975) read, "he thinks in principle... tempered on the forge of understanding, and honed to the edge of reality." Moral philosophy can help identify the critical elements of a problem, but each person’s judgment is crucial to finding what Dworkin called (in the context of jurisprudence) the “right answer,” the one that is consistent with his or her moral character. By doing so, we can craft our own character much like Cap’s writers craft his—with or without the red, white, and blue costume.

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For more on Cap and philosophy, pick up The Virtues of Captain America: Modern-Day Lessons on Character from a World War II Superhero, available now.

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.

My reflections on the post-Flashpoint DCU (and an unexpected walk down memory lane)

So here we are, in early October--New York Comic Con is several days away--and I realized I had written a lot about the new DCU before anybody had actually read the books, but I had yet to comment on it after reading September's big batch of #1's. Rather than give a book-by-book review, I'll just share some thoughts on the enterprise as a whole. I make no claims to originality, nor to any special insight--I just wanted to give at least one "postgame" wrap-up after I commented so much pregame.

Simply put, I hope some readers, new and old, embrace the new DCU as theirs, because it certainly isn't mine.

My love of DC superheroes started with Adam West's Batman and the Super Friends and soon spread to comics. The first comic book I remember reading was Green Lantern/Green Arrow #110 (November 1978), which introduced me not only to Hal and Ollie, but also to Alan Scott--and started my love for Earth-2. Soon I was plucking comics at random off the spinner rack at Betty Jay's soda shop in my small Ohio hometown, including Justice League of America #168 (July 1979), containing the pivotal mindwipe storyline that begat Identity Crisis (and featured a very buff Ralph Dibny on the cover), and an innocuous-looking DC Comics Presents #26 (October 1980), featuring Superman and Green Lantern, and also a special preview of New Teen Titans, which started a legendary run on comics that I was lucky to have read from the beginning (and now look forward to rereading in the beautiful Omnibus hardcovers).

Soon I was riding my bike up to City News, a newsstand/cigar shop in the same town, which carried the full DC and Marvel lines. (I didn't buy any Marvel books at the time, which was more an economic decision than an aesthetic one--I loved the idea of a shared universe and wanted to read the entire line from a company, and what can I say, I loved the DC heroes "first.") I lived for the annual JLA/JSA crossovers, and my favorite titles soon became All-Star Squadron and later, by subscription, Infinity Inc. The Earth-2 heroes were the "other" to me, and by implication cooler than the "normal" Earth-1 characters.

And then came Crisis on Infinite Earths, the first major reboot/relaunch of the DCU (unless you count the introduction of the Earth-1 Flash, Green Lantern, Atom, and Hawkman in the 1960s, which some do). I never regarded the idea of multiple Earths, with independent yet overlapping timelines and histories, to be complicated, but as the same time I thrilled at the idea--soon to be realized with the post-COIE Justice League--of having heroes from various Earths on the same team. (To me, Dr. Fate and Batman on the same team equalled awesome.)

The changes after COIE were just as selective as those following Flashpoint, although some of the former were dictated by the logic of merging the various Earths. Specifically, "duplicate" heroes, such as Superman, Batman and Robin, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow and Speedy, and Aquaman, who existed in roughy identical forms on Earth-1 and Earth-2, had to be collapsed into one (always the younger, Earth-1 version). But the changes went even further: Superman and Wonder Woman were given hard reboots, while Batman and Green Lantern were left mostly unchanged. (Sound familiar?) And since Barry Allen died during COIE, Wally West stepped up as the new Flash, but the world somehow remembered Barry's death (but not Supergirl's).

For reasons that I do not recall (but probably having something to do with getting my first guitar in high school), I dropped out of comics around the time Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns wrapped up. (Maybe I wanted to leave at a high point!) I didn't walk into a comics shop again until 2004, just in time for Hal Jordan and Jason Todd to come back from the dead--and for Sue Dibny and Ted Kord to replace them--and also for the huge ramp-up to Infinite Crisis, the successor to Crisis on Infinite Earths. I missed everything in between, including the deaths of Superman and Jason Todd, Batman's back problems, Hal Jordan's breakdown possession, and all the events like Zero Hour, likely the most thorough line-wide retcon other than COIE and Flashpoint (and the one which most closely resembles the revised "five-year" timeline of the new DCU). But through the magic of trade paperbacks and online comic book shops, eventually I caught up with what I had missed.

Admittedly, I was much much younger when COIE happened, but I don't remember having the same sense of loss, abandonment, and betrayal as I do now. (Who, me, overdramatic? Never!) Most of the changes after COIE reconciled the five most significant Earths (1, 2, 4, S, and X), the key word here being "reconcile." Redundancies were eliminated, with some minor casualties (such as Helena Wayne and Lyta Trevor), but most of the histories of the two main Earths, 1 and 2, were retained--with the notable exception of those of Superman and Wonder Woman. But even those hard reboots didn't seem so drastic to me--Superman was slightly depowered, his supporting cast changed a bit, and he no longer had a past as Superboy, and Diana no longer had a past with the Justice League (or anybody, for that matter). But their underlying characters were unchanged, or at least so it seemed to me at the time. Most importantly, they were still recognizable as essentially the same characters that they were prior to COIE.

But despite what the now-ubiquitous Purple Glowy Woman said at the end of Flashpoint about reconciling the DCU with the Vertigo and Wildstorm universes, the post-Flashpoint DCU is more about selective reinvention than reconciliation. Once again, Batman and Green Lantern are relatively untouched, while Superman and Wonder Woman are rebooted--along with most of the rest of the DCU. The extent of the changes vary, of course: Barry Allen is in the same job he had before Flashpoint but is no longer married to Iris (and apparently no longer has other speedsters to run with), Carter Hall is a different sort of Hawkman altogether, Ronnie Raymond and Jason Rusch are now brand-new Firestorms, Jamie Reyes is the first Blue Beetle, and Ollie Queen is just a blonde--and bland--archer with a half-assed goatee and no personality to speak of. The full changes to Wonder Woman have yet to be seen (other than the recent revelation of her parentage), but the new Superman is a travesty, edginess replacing nobility and cynicism replacing hope. The histories of the Justice League and Teen Titans, traditionally bedrock institutions in the DCU, are completely up in the air; thankfully, the Legion is little changed from its reintroduction during Brad Meltzer's and Geoff John's JLA/JSA crossover. (I did mourn the JSA most of all, but its planned resurrection on a new Earth-2 is a bright light in an otherwise dim new universe.)

This is why it doesn't feel like my DCU anymore--because it isn't. It's completely new, and in a different way than the post-COIE universe was. Rather than reconciling and retaining most of several alternate histories, Flashpoint replaced a single history with another, with elements retained (seemingly) at random. Like "One Year Later" but on a grander scale, I enjoy being teased with which elements remain the same and which are changed or lost. But now that game is being played with nearly the entire DCU--and frankly, I'm tired of waiting, guessing, being pleasantly surprised and horribly disappointed within the same 20-page story. The treasured history of my DCU, which survived largely intact through several major upheavals since 1978, is gone. RIP.

Am I just being selfish? Do I want to keep my DCU and prevent others from having their new one? Is this like fans wanting to keep Kyle or Wally when Hal and Barry returned? The difference is that those characters all co-existed in some form. But unless the post-Flashpoint world is revealed at some point to be an alternate universe co-existing with the pre-Flashpoint one, the new DCU has replaced the old one, and my DCU is gone. I don't begrudge anyone else the new DCU, and I hope for the sake of the medium that fans continue to embrace it after the novelty of 52 new #1's fades. But I cannot maintain my enthusiasm--this is truly a new DCU, and I simply liked the old one better. And through trades and back issues, the old DCU will say alive for me, while I selectively follow the new one--for there is fantastic work being done. But it's not the same.

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Funny--I had always wanted to write a personal history of my life with comics, but I hadn't expected to write it in the context of a DCnU post. (And there is more to tell, to be sure--later.) But it is appropriate, I suppose, since most of my comics-reading life has been within the DCU. Only in 2006 did I start reading Marvel in earnest, having been enticed by Brubaker and Lark's Daredevil (having loved their collaboration on Gotham Central) and the moral and political complexities of Civil War. Now I count Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, and of course Daredevil among my favorite characters in comics, alongside Batman, Nightwing, and Green Lantern (Hal Jordan).

Many have noted the similarity of the new DCU with Marvel's Heroes Reborn period, in which a group of heroes were shunted to a pocket universe and "modernized," only to be returned to the 616 universe a year later in their traditional forms. Other than that blip (and scattered others, such as "One More Day"), Marvel seems to understand the value of stability, choosing to tell new stories with their existing characters rather than throw the baby out with the bathwater and start their characters from scratch, alienating loyal readers (like me) in hopes of attracting new ones.

DC must recognize this to some extent; after all, they kept their most fascinating character, Batman/Bruce Wayne, largely untouched. Countless stories can be told if you build on the foundation of a great character. And Superman is another great character, embodying strength, hope, and heroism, and showing us that humanity in its highest form is more than just DNA. His superpowers amazed us, but his heart connected him to us. Without that, he is not Superman, but rather just another strongman in a cape (and kneepads).

Characters can change and they can grow, but ideally this happens organically and gradually--in the same way that people change and grow in the real world--not suddenly and discontinuously, by editorial fiat. If this is done well, you have a rich, storied character on which a legacy can be built. For the most part, Marvel seems to realize this. DC seems to have forgotten it, but I hope they will remember it soon, but the sake of new readers as well as old ones.

Steve Rogers and Uncle Sam: Different angles on political faith in Fear Itself #1 and Freedom Fighters #8

I was intrigued by the serendipity of having both Steve Rogers and Uncle Sam, the Big Two's respective "symbols of America," commenting on the current state of political discourse and unrest in this week's high-profile Fear Itself #1 and the criminally neglected Freedom Fighters #8.

SPOILERS BELOW THE FOLD...