On January 11th of 2008 (Anno Domini) Sir Edmund Hillary died at the age of 88 in his homeland of New Zealand. Owing much to his Sherpa guide, Tenzing Norgay, Hillary achieved the unimaginable in becoming the first man to summit Mt. Everest (all 29,029 feet of it) in 1953. After reaching the top of the world, Hillary crossed the Antarctic, formed a foundation for building schools and clinics in Nepal, served as president of New Zealand’s Peace Corps, and wrote numerous books about his experiences. Still, climbing Everest endured as Hillary’s most lasting triumph, and, in recalling the adventure, he once stated, “I have had a dream and it has come true, and that is not a thing that happens often to men.”
For his audacity in aspiring to and then realizing his dream SEH became a global hero, and the anniversary of his passing draws my attention to a disturbing trend of disappearing heroes in American culture. The archetypal national heroic types of Patriot and Cowboy have receded into traditional folklore (or, perhaps more tellingly, been designated as names for vaunted NFL franchises – a trade commodity to be bought and sold in the marketplace) and many of our proud historical figures have faded under Time’s blinding, unblinking light. The courage and achievements of old idols do not resonate with us as they did the generations that preceded because of the relative temporal distance between us. Those of us that are studious and interested may be wary of our history, but an individual intuitively attunes to and immerses himself in his own time, lest he find himself an outcast and half-mad relic – the 7th grade history buff who curses Lincoln up and down (in the present tense) and stoically cloaks himself in Confederate Gray.
The shelf-life of today’s “hero” expires before there is time to be inscribed in the history books. As a result of the staggering rewards offered for success and a ubiquitous and mosquiton Media, the would-be-hero of yesterday faces constant scrutiny. In a land whose proud slogan has always been that any man can make something of himself, Americans delight in the debasement and disparagement of men, particularly those with a touch of the Self-Made to their story. We have developed a ravenous and insatiable appetite for seesawing our heroes, catapulting them to epic heights only to swing them violently earthward. The thrill in glorification and debasement seems, to me, a perversely contemporary (and diagnostic) national attitude.
In our time we have seen O.J. Simpson accused of a double murder (and convicted of armed robbery in Vegas, where the American Dream went to die), Bill Clinton receive oral favors from an intern, Stephen Ambrose plagiarize several works, Jeffrey Skilling and Dennis Kozlowski convicted for fraud and misappropriation, Michael Jackson accused of molesting children, Michael Jordan (the greatest, period) divorced for infidelity, and a slew of professional athletes (including gold-medal winners and modern day record holders) charged with using illicit hormones and steroids. These selections represent not only achievers who reached the apex of their respective field, but also are drawn from the traditional fountains of modern heroism: sports, politics, entertainment, business, and academia. In another era, some of their misdeeds might have gone unnoticed. In our time, they have a depreciating effect on the perpetrator.
I do not wish to suggest or imply that any person should be elevated above the law or freed from punishment or consequences. But perpetual media attention has such a humanizing (isn't it sad how that word assumes a negative connotation?) effect that accomplishments often get overlooked or diminished. The hero, totally humanized, loses his aura and influence. His ability to inspire is decimated.
While studying in Argentina, I found the treatment of heroes abroad totally different. There, the culture of the hero still flourishes, albeit in a far more immemorial manner. Borges and Gardel are universally appreciated national figures. Despite confounding extraprofessional behavior and a litany of drug addictions, Diego Maradona is lionized as the greatest fútbol player to ever dribble; his La Mano de Dios goal in the 1986 World Cup against England considered a profound act of national destiny. Eva Peron – though polarizing for her politics – is worshiped by her supporters as a goddess and was hailed as the savior of the working class. Although not without her detractors, Evita joins the others on the strength of her supporters to compose an irreproachable group of national heroes. This tradition is not necessarily better; it grants its heroes immunity through their daunting accomplishments, effectively making them one-dimensionally good. Cast as such, they become noncomplex caricatures.
The path to redeeming the nature and idea of the Hero involves relearning the definition. Among such characteristics as courage and ability, the OED includes in its definition of hero the word “demigod,” which word refers to a figure that is half-god, half-human. Within this definition lies hope for the future of the American hero. Demigod implies a being that is illustrious, yet fallible; enlightened, yet reproachable; deified, yet mortal. Through the Hero's Dream, the holy Immortal is accessed, and we relate to the vessel through which the Dream is channeled - the Hero, himself - through his humanity. It is in our best interest to recognize the dichotomy of the Hero, who needs but 2 things: a dream and supporters. The Hero’s duty is to provide the dream, as SEH did, and do his utmost to attain that dream, to push the boundaries and limitations of humankind and in so doing make us all the better for it. It is our duty, the rest of us, to provide the support without which the hero and his dream will surely die.
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