Avengers and Philosophy: Earth's Mightiest Thinkers, The

by White, Mark

  I Didn’t Mean It, Honest

  Through all of this, Tony Stark showed himself to be the most pragmatic and proactive hero in the Marvel Universe, taking charge when no one else would and then suffering the consequences, including the scorn and resentment of his fellow heroes as well as the broader public (and much of the comics fan base). Yet as a futurist inventor, CEO of a billion-dollar company, and even former secretary of defense, it’s hard for him not to look at the bigger picture—just like Nick Fury. So does Tony really deserve the blame for the causal chain of events that started with his well-intended (if overreaching) actions during these last several years of cataclysmic Marvel crossover events?

  Whenever a person performs an action, both intended and unintended consequences (or side effects) may occur. So philosophers ask: which of these effects is the actor responsible for? One answer is presented in the doctrine of double effect, which originated in the writings of the philosopher Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) and was elaborated upon by modern philosophers like Philippa Foot (1920–2010) and G. E. M. Anscombe (1919–2001). Simply put, the doctrine of double effect states that it is sometimes morally permissible to promote a good end even if—unintentionally but foreseeably—serious harm will result from it. It is not, however, permissible to cause the same harm intentionally.14

  Consider killing in self-defense as an example of the doctrine of double effect. If a person—let’s call him Nick, for no reason at all—is being attacked with murderous intent by someone—oh, say, Baron von Strucker—it is okay for Nick to defend himself against the Baron with lethal force (if necessary). In such a case, Nick would be protecting his own life—the good end—and the death of von Strucker would be the foreseen but unintended consequence of Nick’s promotion of that end. On the other hand, if Nick discovered that the Baron is plotting to kill him, it would be morally wrong for him to kill the Baron first, since that would be the intended action itself (and there are many other ways to thwart von Strucker’s plans and save Nick’s life). In both scenarios the consequence—one dead Baron—is the same, yet only the first act, killing in self-defense, is morally permissible, because it is an unintentional side effect of the ethical act of self-preservation.15

  The doctrine of double effect makes an important distinction between consequences that are intended and those that are merely foreseen (but not intended). Still, the line between them is not always clear, nor is it always clear how to “know” whether a side effect was truly unintentional. Another thorny issue is the matter of determining just how many bad consequences we will tolerate in the pursuit of good ends before we say “enough.” For the doctrine of double effect to be accepted and work effectively, there has to be proportionality between bad effects (the means) and good effects (the ends). Assuming neither Fury nor Stark intended any harmful consequences of their actions, the remaining issue is whether the good ends they were pursuing were enough to justify the negative results of their actions. With Tony, especially, this question divided much of the Marvel Universe during the period described above.

  What if the doctrine of double effect does not endorse Tony’s actions? Does this imply that he’s responsible for the negative outcome of the recent Marvel events? We don’t have time here to launch an in-depth discussion of causation and responsibility. Suffice it to say that even the great futurist Tony Stark couldn’t accurately predict the massive consequences his actions would have on the Marvel Universe. Note also that many other people’s actions were involved, and the farther down the “chain of causation” we get from Tony’s actions, the less responsibility we can pin on him.16

  This Changes Everything (Until It Changes Back)

  As Simon Williams (Wonder Man) points out to Captain America, on the subject of putting the Avengers back together as a global peacekeeping force,

  maybe it’s one of those things that you can’t see when you’re right in the middle of it, but once you step back it couldn’t be more clear. From my point of view . . . the superhero civil war, the mutant decimation, the Skrull Invasion, Norman Osborn . . . they all have one thing in common . . . they are all the Avengers’ fault.17

  Well, let’s take Simon’s suggestion and step outside the confines of the Marvel Universe for a minute. It really does seem that any time a superhero tries be proactive, it comes back to bite him on the Asgard, almost as if the genre itself is preventing proactive superheroing.

  The concept of the “status quo” in superhero stories is hotly debated. One minute fans are skeptical of claims that the next big event comic “will change everything you know—forever,” because things always seem to revert to normal before long; and the next minute, fans complain that creators stray too far from established, beloved continuity. They want characters to develop—yet never change! However, the retention of a certain recognizable status quo in superhero stories is not only something that the upper management of Marvel and DC mandate (to maintain the economic viability of their licensing revenues outside comics), it’s something that’s ingrained in the very concept of the superhero itself.

  In Super Heroes: A Modern Mythology, comics historian Richard Reynolds writes that the superhero is, by definition, “battling on behalf of the status quo,” which he sees as the workings and positive values of the society in which most superheroes operate.18 This status quo is “constantly under attack” and thus needs a superhuman protector from the outside forces of evil that attempt to change it.19 Reynolds’s vision seems to follow what philosophers Robert Jewett and John Shelton Lawrence call the “American monomyth,” a variation on the classical monomyth (also known as “the hero’s journey”). The mythologist Joseph Campbell (1904–1987) proposed the classical monomyth as a universal narrative in which a hero “ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder,” where fabulous forces are encountered, a decisive victory is won, and the hero returns “with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”20

  Jewett and Lawrence transfer this focus on the individual hero to the community. Thus in the American monomyth:

  A community in a harmonious paradise is threatened by evil: normal institutions fail to contend with this threat: a selfless superhero emerges to renounce temptations and carry out the redemptive task: aided by fate, his decisive victory restores the community to its paradisiacal condition: the superhero then recedes into obscurity.21

  This certainly sounds a lot a like the typical superhero story. Combined with Reynolds’s comments that the status quo, this (slightly exaggerated but nevertheless positive) “paradisiacal condition” of the community, must be defended over and over again, the superhero keeps from fading into obscurity by simply taking on the next supervillain. His adherence to the American monomyth thus implies that the superhero, and the genre in which he operates, is primarily reactive. Something needs to happen—the status quo needs to be threatened—before a superhero can jump into action.

  But I Want to Help!

  Does this mean that it’s better for superheroes like the Avengers to just sit back in their headquarters and do nothing until a supervillain comes along and destroys a couple of nearby buildings (usually their headquarters itself)? Actually, yes, but we all know that that’s not going to happen. Their world and ours is hardly a “paradise,” and there’s always work to be done. We don’t necessarily have to agree with Tony Stark’s plans to help people through his advanced technology or his proactive actions during the Civil War, but neither can we let our heroes stand idly by and do nothing.

  In her criticism of the doctrine of double effect, Philippa Foot asked if there is a moral distinction between what we do and cause directly by our action, and what we simply allow to happen indirectly by not acting, otherwise known as the act/omission question.22 In some cases, she argued, there isn’t, such as when a man murders his children by giving them poison (an act) or by refraining from giving them food (an omission), both of which would be wrong (to say the least). In other cases, though, we would make a strict d
istinction between acting and allowing. Foot, in another example, stated that most of us implicitly allow people to starve in Third World countries. However, it’s one thing to allow people to die in faraway nations, and quite another to send them poisoned food. According to Foot, “There is worked into our moral system a distinction between what we owe people in the form of aid and what we owe them in the way of non-interference.”23 She then compared this distinction with the one between positive and negative duties. Positive duties describe things we should do, such as helping others, while negative duties detail things we shouldn’t do, such as hurting others. Foot noted that our negative duties almost always seem to be morally stronger than our positive ones. So violating a negative duty (by acting to kill someone, for instance) is often considered worse than violating a positive duty (by not acting to save someone in danger).

  For superheroes, however, positive duties seem to be more important than negative duties. We all know from reading Spider-Man comics that “with great power comes great responsibility,” and in most cases this translates to helping those in need wherever you can. Furthermore, Spidey’s origin story presents a strong case for this. Uncle Ben would still be alive if only Peter Parker had performed an act: stopping the burglar (who later killed his uncle) when he had the chance. But for superheroes, the greater responsibility may lie in keeping others safe from their power. Look no further than the Hulk: his famous request to be left alone shows that he does not want his incredible power to hurt innocent bystanders. He’s more concerned with preventing harm than helping others, and given his unique nature, this is perfectly understandable.

  Whenever superheroes act too much on their positive duty to help the world around them, they become proactive. And according to comics historian Peter Coogan, this inevitably sets them on a slippery slope toward, in essence, supervillainy. This is especially the case whenever superheroes, as Coogan puts it, “move up into governance” and become institutional parts of the society they’re trying to protect.24 We certainly saw this slippery slope into supervillainy happen with Iron Man’s demonized depictions throughout many Marvel series during the Civil War and his subsequent tenure as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Other examples include Thor’s tenure as “Lord of Asgard” and later “Lord of Earth,” during which his interference on Earth eventually led to a tyrannical rule that required time travel to undo.25 Consider also the Squadron Supreme (onetime allies of the Avengers), who assumed control of the United States and attempted to remake the nation into a utopia. Despite their best intentions, the “utopia” they created was more like a totalitarian regime.26

  While acting on positive duties is certainly admirable, practically every time we see superheroes attempt to do it proactively on a larger scale, the reactive nature of the superhero genre brings them crashing down hard. Especially in long-running ongoing narratives like the Avengers, the general status quo always seems to return. And even though the team has seen its roster change many times, their general mission and place in society should not change. As Reynolds states, “The superhero has a mission to preserve society, not to re-invent it.”27

  Captain America’s mighty S.H.I.E.L.D. . . . Well, Sort Of

  After the incarceration of Norman Osborn following the Siege of Asgard, a newly “reborn” Steve Rogers appeared before the president of the United States and was given Osborn’s former position as top cop of the free world: “We’ve seen the world according to Nick Fury . . . We’ve seen the world according to Tony Stark . . . And, Lord in heaven, we’ve seen the world according to Norman Osborn. Steve Rogers, Captain . . . I am asking you to answer the call.” Steve accepts, adding, “But . . . I’m going to want to do it my way.”28 As Captain America, Steve Rogers has certainly proven himself time and time again as a capable leader, perhaps even the most capable superhero leader in the Marvel Universe. But will he too, just like Nick Fury and Tony Stark before him, succumb to the same proactive methods and trappings his new governing role provides?

  With Steve at the helm, it certainly looks like a brighter tomorrow for the Marvel Universe. So far, he has been doing a much better job in his elevated position than Tony Stark or even Nick Fury before him. He has as yet only shown vague hints of proactive action—chief among them his formation of the black-ops military stealth unit the Secret Avengers—and might possibly be the best top cop the Marvel Universe ever had.29 However, Fury recently told Steve that “you may be good at being me for a while . . . but you don’t have the constitution for it long-term.”30 And he may be right: shortly after he became the “new Nick Fury,” Rogers once again became the one and only Captain America, following the apparent death of Bucky Barnes, signaling a return to the status quo—some things never change indeed!

  NOTES

  1. The Ultimates #1–13 (March 2002–April 2004), reprinted in The Ultimates: Ultimate Collection (2010). The popularity of this version of Fury can also be felt in Marvel’s recent movies, in which the character—played by Mr. Jackson, of course—makes consistent appearances throughout the Marvel movies leading up to the Avengers film itself.

  2. The Ultimates 2 #1–13 (February 2005–February 2007), reprinted in The Ultimates 2: Ultimate Collection (2010).

  3. The Ultimates 2 #6 (July 2005).

  4. Before you say anything—yes, I know the events in The Ultimates 2 were manipulated by Thor’s mischievous adopted brother Loki behind the scenes, but his “gentle nudging” of events has no impact on the point I’m making here. (He didst not tell me to say that either, nope.)

  5. Secret War #1–5 (April 2004–December 2005), reprinted in Secret War (2006). The Eastern European country’s more well known monarch, Doctor Doom, was trapped in hell at the time due to the events of Fantastic Four, vol. 3, #500 (September 2003), reprinted in Fantastic Four Vol. 2: Unthinkable (2003).

  6. Secret War #5 (December 2005).

  7. The Civil War event spanned numerous tie-ins throughout the Marvel Universe but was mainly told in Civil War #1–7 (July 2006–January 2007), reprinted in Civil War (2007).

  8. Civil War #7 (January 2007). Number 42, for example, was the Negative Zone prison used to incarcerate anti-registration heroes and villains, while number 43 was cleaning up the S.H.I.E.L.D. organization. Later, Reed Richards added idea #101 to the list: “Solve Everything” (Fantastic Four, vol. 3, #570, October 2009, reprinted in Fantastic Four by Jonathan Hickman Vol. 1, 2010). Now that’s ambitious, proactive superheroing for you!

  9. New Avengers: Illuminati one-shot (May 2006), reprinted in The Road to Civil War (2007). The Illuminati have been in existence since the Kree-Skrull War, and their mission was described by Professor Charles Xavier as meeting in secret to “proactively change catastrophes from happening” (Avengers, vol. 4, #9, March 2011, reprinted in Avengers by Brian Michael Bendis Vol. 2, 2011).

  10. World War Hulk (2008).

  11. New Avengers: Illuminati #1 (February 2007), reprinted in New Avengers: Illuminati (2008).

  12. Secret Invasion (2009).

  13. Dark Avengers Vol. 1: Assemble (2009). For more on Osborn and the Dark Avengers, see the chapter titled “The Self-Corruption of Norman Osborn: A Cautionary Tale” by Robert Powell and the chapter titled “Shining the Light on the Dark Avengers” by Sarah Donovan and Nick Richardson in this volume.

  14. For a concise summary of the doctrine of double effect, see Alison McIntyre, “Doctrine of Double Effect,” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/double-effect.

  15. This also shows why consequentialism, the school of ethics that judges the moral worth of an action based solely on the consequences said action brings about, firmly rejects the doctrine of the double effect, since intentionality (or lack thereof) has no impact on the goodness of outcomes.

  16. For an overview of Tony’s actions and moral responsibility, especially during the Civil War, see Mark D. White, “Did Iron Man Kill Captain America?” in Iron Man and Philosophy: Facing the Stark Reality, ed. Mark D. White (Hoboken, NJ: Jo
hn Wiley & Sons, 2008).

  17. Avengers, vol. 4, #1 (July 2010), reprinted in Avengers by Brian Michael Bendis Vol. 1 (2011).

  18. Richard Reynolds, Super Heroes: A Modern Mythology (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1994), 77.

  19. Ibid.

  20. Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1949), 28.

  21. Robert Jewett and John Shelton Lawrence, The American Monomyth (Garden City, NY: Anchor, 1977), xx.

  22. See Philippa Foot, “The Problem of Abortion and the Doctrine of the Double Effect,” in Virtues and Vices and Other Essays in Moral Philosophy (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1978), 19–32.

  23. Ibid., 27.

  24. See Peter Coogan, Superhero: The Secret Origin of a Genre (Austin, TX: Monkeybrain Books, 2006), 216. (See chapter 4 in general for an analysis of the proactive/reactive relationship between the superhero and supervillain.)