Zeus, Superman, and the American Way

On Tuesday, we visited the giant superman statue in Metropolis, IL. Later that day, we visited Nashville's replica of the Greek Parthenon. While this is a noteworthy pair in part because the two are both shining examples of cheesy middle-American pop architecture, it speaks to something deeper within the American Psyche. Both Superman the Greek Gods celebrated in a roundabout way by Nashville's Parthenon derive significance from their superior abilities. But why do Americans see the worship of these super-figures as desirable?

The term "Superman" can be traced back to Friedrich Nietzsche (incidentally, an admirer of Emerson) who advocated that the worship of the "Übermensch" was man's end in life: "I love those... who sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth may one day belong to the übermensch". In the early 20th century, English editions of Nietzsche's writing translated übermensch into English as "Superman". By the time Nietzsche wrote this, the United States had already built a culture around what would later be termed "rugged individualism", celebrating their anti-authoritarian government and praising individualist writers like Horatio Alger. While Nietzsche's pronouncement that "God is dead" didn't sit well with American's tendency toward religion, his message of individualism resonated here, first exerting an influence on playwright Eugene O'Neill, then figuring more heavily into the writings of Russian immigrant Ayn Rand. Though it was later argued that "overman" was a better translation of "übermensch", the Superman comics were created while "superman" was still the most current translation of the term. Whether or not the creation of the "Man of Steel" was in fact influenced by Nietzsche is debatable, however, Metropolis's shrine to him is an eerie fulfillment of superman worship.

But this shrine, along with its Tennessee companion which celebrates superhuman Greek Gods, raises a problem. The two monuments aim to incite worship to individuality, the highest American ideal. But on further reflection, the very act of worship is contradictory to individuality. It's true that Zeus or Superman have superior strength, and the logic goes that as paragons of individuality, we are sworn not to make laws or create societies which would restrict their awesome power. As the "untermench" - the subhumans - we must emulate these figures, for there is no other path in life than to follow in the footsteps of Superman, which is especially difficult since Superman flies everywhere.

As someone who has flirted with Libertarianism in the past, the idea of individualism is something I take seriously. Hero worship degrades our individualism by imposing orthodoxy and discouraging diversity of thought. It creates an implied collective, in this case, those who would be just like Superman if they could. Real individualism is doing what you want with due respect to others in society, not accepting an ideal as dictated to you by an external source. Real world "heroes" may exist, and they deserve our respect, not our worship.

But as I witnessed today, the Superman ideal (or the Zeus ideal) is alive and well in the American heartland. While I hope Middle America can be weaned off the worship of Supermen, I do appreciate the fact that Superman and Zeus have great entertainment value. Maybe we should give these shrines the benefit of the doubt, and assume that they are merely recognitions of the fact that those who created these fictional characters know how to tell a good story.

And yet, the superman

American Brandenburg

At the end of a bustling thoroughfare near a city park in Berlin lies the Brandenburg Gate. Completed in 1791, it stands as a stylistic testament to its own era, and originally functioned as a gate to the center of town. But through the course of history, the gate assumed a greater significance. As the cold war enveloped Berlin, the gate came to symbolize the boundary between the East and the West, in Europe and the rest of the world. At that time, the gate became the site of some of the most memorable speeches of American presidents, including Kennedy's "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech, and Reagan's "Tear down this wall" speech. Last year, Obama notably and somewhat controversially gave a campaign speech in the nearby Tiergarten park, in which he echoed the call to tear down walls, this time metaphorical ones.

Here in St. Louis, we rode to the center of town to look at the famous Gateway Arch. Aesthetically, the arch bears little similarity to the Brandenburg; it's simplistic rather than ornate. And in true American style, it's larger than life, and bears a striking resemblance to a recognizable corporate logo. It's loud in a quiet way, while Brandenburg is quiet in a loud way, a fitting summation of the contrast between our two continents. But the two gates, the Brandenburg Gate and the Gateway Arch, both compel their visitors to reflect on the differences between life on either sides of them. The Brandenburg represents more of a cultural divide; the continent spans dozens of languages and disparate traditions. The arch represents the vast geographical disparity between eastern and western North America, an acknowledgment that even though English is spoken from the Pacific to the Atlantic, people's lives are dramatically different from city to city or state to state. Yet, with the demise of the Berlin wall, and numerous bridges spanning the Mississippi, the two gates serve the opposite function of traditional gates. They don't divide, they unite.

As my associate and I cross over from West to East, we reflected on this. And we both are hopeful that our next president will make good on the pledge made hypocritically by our last president; that he will be a uniter, not a divider.

Asking for Change: Imitating Life

Asking For Change: an occasional series on what should change in the U.S. under a new president, why it should change, and how we all can make it happen.

Obamathon Man and his associate spent yesterday afternoon being cultural at the Denver Art Museum. The building itself is a work of art, that is to say, unusual and not really intended to look pretty. The museum is comprised of two buildings which are four and six stories tall, and the most notable feature of the whole place was that there was a children's play center on nearly every floor. Perhaps they wanted to let mommy and daddy admire the paintings without the little ones slobbering on the ancient Qing Dynasty figurines. Just as well.

After 10 floors of art, we were arted out. We were thinking too hard. Art imitates life, because it presents all kinds of problems and no solution. There you are in the museum, staring at an old tractor plow with a giant skull on it, wondering whether it represents the inevitable subjugation of the agrarian proletariat, the dangers of farm life, or just the artist's fondness for plows and skulls. You turn to your fellow museum patrons, hoping that they might mutter something amongst themselves that makes the whole thing make sense, but they look at at it with the same vacant stare as you. Upon leaving the museum, we were ready for something easily explainable, like lunch.

But we were happy to have visited, especially since it was free. Even though some in our family don't like the design of the building, and even the two of us wouldn't go out of our way to defend it, I'm much happier that it's there instead of some anonymous office building. Office buildings exist to house offices, to provide a workplace for workers, who work to make money for themselves and enrich their corporate bosses, who also work for themselves but also to enrich the economy, so we're told. It's easy to understand. Maybe the reason I'm happy the art museum is there is that it's an acknowledgment that the height of human endeavor is more than making things easy to understand. Maybe the tractor plow and skull convey something that would not come across through a news article or scholarly essay.

I'm not saying we should teach art because it might make you smarter. Nor am I suggesting an increase in NEA funding - though I don't think their funding should be decreased either. What I would like to see is a society who looks at the art and doesn't try to reduce it into literary terms. Ars gratia artis, art for art's sake. That's the best interpretation of the skull plow I have to offer.

It's Not "The Inaugural"!

Obamathon Man does not consider himself a grammar nazi. But there is one particular linguistic slip-up that really grinds my gears: when people or news articles refer to the inauguration as "the inaugural". I've got news for you: "inaugural" is an adjective. Just like "happy" is an adjective. Would you tell someone you're going to the happy?

OK, mayyybe you could argue that when people say "inaugural" is short-hand for "55th inaugural ceremony". Maybe. But that would be like residents of Pleasant Hill referring to their city as "Pleasant". Do you live in Pleasant? Huh? Where the hell is Pleasant? We can live in descriptions now?

So, please just make the extra effort and call it "the inauguration". Three more letters won't kill you, but leaving them out will kill the English language.

That's Where I Want to Be

Wouldn't ya know it? Denver's got it's own Beverly Hills. Obamathon Man has yet to visit, but I suspect that instead of Rodeo Dr they have actual rodeos, and the Beverly Hillbillies wouldn't look so out of place.

Politically Impolite

So I'm here in Denver, doing a little last minute christmas shopping with my associate. We're looking over the best Barnes & Nobles has to offer, and apparently that's some cheesy Sarah Palin "authorized" bio. Gee willikers! So we start having a good old time at the expense of Alaska's first gal. "I'll find those answers and bring em to ya!" A well dressed woman walks by and I look over just long enough to catch her giving us a look that could freeze Mauna Loa. Welcome to Denver folks! In LA, that never would have happened - no one cares what you do or say in public. You could catch on fire and no one would notice.

To be fair, I saw plenty of Obama stickers and posters left up here, so the situation is not one sided. But the Republican contingent is not backing down. Unlike LA, they still have a strong foothold, and though they now appear to lie dormant, they are poised to strike back at the least opportunity. Denver: the town of mile high tempers.

Too Much Lincoln?

Barack Obama, former U.S. senator from the Land of Lincoln. Appoints his cabinet on the axiom that it should be a "Team of Rivals", as Lincoln's cabinet has been described. Chooses as his inauguration theme "A New Birth of Freedom", a line from Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Plans to ride to the inauguration by train, entering Washington the same way as Lincoln. I really hope he's not also going to leave Washington the same way as Lincoln.

To be fair, Lincoln is probably one of the better role models anyone could pick. Emulating Lincoln is a politically savvy move; since he is a figure revered by both Democrats and Republicans, it is a subtle hint of bipartisanship. Since Lincoln is best remembered as a capable leader during a time of crisis, Obama's Lincolnizing may cement his own appearance of being up to the task of handling the presidency in hard times. And of course, Lincoln was the president who gave the executive order which freed African-American slaves in this country, arguably the single greatest thing any American president has done for the Black community. Obama happens to be the first Black president of the U.S.

But let's not forget that Lincoln was president 150 years ago, and times have changed a bit. Lincoln's challenge was bringing together a bitterly divided union and win a war that could not have been avoided, Obama's will be to restore a battered economy and end a war that should have been avoided. When Lincoln held office, the U.S. was not a superpower whose every action had effects around the world. In Lincoln's time, nuclear weapons didn't exist, and terrorism meant an anarchist with a derringer. And unlike Obama, Lincoln didn't carry a blackberry.

It's true that good leadership is timeless. But how much Lincoln is too much? It would be great if Obama was the next Lincoln, but it would be even better if he was remembered as the first of his kind. So, Mr. President-Elect, let's try and tone down the open references to Lincoln. Don't let the Obama Express make any whistle stops in Gettysburg, don't name your new pooch Abe, and for god's sake don't buy your daughters Lincoln Logs this Christmas.

On Cynicism

November 5, 2008. By 8:30 AM, Pacific Standard Time, I was cynical again. It was a record, the longest I had gone since I was 12 years old, long before I knew anything about politics.

Cynics have been defined as those who "rejected all conventions, whether of religion, manners, housing, dress, or decency". They have also been defined as most if not all people who vote for democrats. Democratic voters are lesser-of-two-evils voters. They do sober analyses of candidates, look at voting records, and make their pick based on who is statistically least likely to screw up. Republicans vote for B-list western actors, or whoever they'd rather have a beer with.

For democratic voters, crossing party lines is a rite of passage - it proves how independent minded they are. And in California, independent-mindedness came in 2003 with the recall of Governor Whatshisname, who was famously replaced by that dude who starred in Kindergarten Cop. In 2006, Ahnuld got reelected, and this time I was of voting age and got to participate in the independent-mindedness. No I didn't actually vote for the Governator. But neither did I vote for the other guy, whose name I can't remember. Independent!

Then came the 2008 election, and with it, Barack Obama. The dude was a hope factory, his campaign a disciplined army with cynicism its sole enemy. With his soaring oratory and effective campaigning, Obama did the impossible: he rallied the democratic base. Hell, the last Democrat whose oratory came close to soaring was elected in 1960.

Sure, I let myself get excited by talk of hope and change. I also let myself get excited by the prospect that I might have a president who knew what the hell he was doing. Deep down, I knew that on November 5, Obama would take all the hope, change, fired up, god bless the United States of America, and box it up for the next 3 years. Which was just what I wanted and, frankly, expected post-election. What really got to me on November 5 was the thought of all the potential stumbling blocks that might trip up the new president-elect. What would be his Watergate, his Malaise speech, his Monica Lewinsky? Would he contract Alzheimer's, or would he unleash a series of constitutional travesties, forever tarnishing this nation's good name, like our current president?

So, at 8:30 AM, I turned cynical again. The euphoria lasted twelve hours, and of those I was only awake for five. But it eventually dawned on me that, as nice as the euphoria was, it was good that it ended. Isn't constant euphoria how republican voters usually feel? Or rather, blissful ignorance - mixed with the occasional outrage when prompted by the appropriate sources. Might my cynicism actually be constructive? I'm not going to be in lock step with Obama, and that's a good thing. Sure I'm happy he won, and I think it's likely that I'll support many of his actions as president. But if he screws things up, I'll be the first to let him know. I might even abstain from voting in 2012!

So, to all who read this, stay cynical and stay proud. When Obama talks about his next stimulus package, proudly mutter, "Yeah, that'll fix the economy." It's the best thing you can do for your president, and your country.