A front-page guest post by Kevin Blackwell from a few days ago, reflecting on his disappointment with his hero Dr. Ben Carson’s slip into Obama Derangement Syndrome, got me wondering.
We all have our heroes. A definition is in order, of course. To me, a “hero” is a person one holds up as a role model. A hero exhibits qualities and engage in actions that I wish to emulate. But to the extent that heroes are human beings,* they are imperfect. And the more we learn about our heroes as people, the more likely it is we will find something out about them that we dislike. Living heroes are the best, because they are in the same sort of world as we, face the same sorts of challenges we do, and therefore present the most potent of examples.
So.
What real-life people are your heroes? And do they have any flaws that you have found a way to overlook?
Since I raised the subject, it’s incumbent upon me to start. Here’s some of my heroes, people who have been alive during my own lifetime.
Sandra Day O’Connor. Her approach to the law, first and foremost, strikes me as admirable. To her, the law is an instrument for blending liberty and order. The precarious and delicate role of the judiciary in a democracy was a matter upon which she was keenly cognizant, and in response to concerns that the courts overreach their true mandates, she responded by forcefully advocating for independent judiciaries around the world. I can’t even imagine how lonely it must have felt to have been the first woman on the Supreme Court, and to have resigned under the circumstances she did. And she hasn’t stopped serving as a booster for the Supreme Court as America’s best governmental institution since retiring. Although I don’t think she was always successful in attempting to reformulate the tough Constitutional subjects and I vacillate on whether her politician’s sense of compromise was appropriate for the Court’s role in dealing with touchy issues, she did try to reach out and find good language that a large segment of Americans could live with even while they disagreed. Even when I disagree with her rulings and votes in particular cases, I can feel confidence that she put careful thought into getting it right. Justice O’Connor is a hero to me because she was, and still is, so committed to making the law just, the courts independent, and the ideals of the U.S. Constitution a reality — especially when doing so means making hard choices.
Carl Sagan. A man who looked for truth and found wonder, and split his time between some of the most ambitious voyages of discovery ever undertaken, and communicating his awe at the beauty of the universe and science to a gobsmacked and charmed world. His observations and reasoning made accurate predictions about planetary science, particularly the runaway greenhouse effect on Venus and the arid frigidity of Mars, setting aside the romantic notions pervasive from his childhood about those worlds, and he gained fortune and cultural prominence by creating Cosmos, a popularized but not dumbed-down explanation of and paean to science that was an inspiration to me as a child. Later in his career, he expended much of the goodwill he had generated by tackling political subjects like the notion of nuclear winter, a theory which later scientists found good reason to criticize. A big mistake later in his career, but one which he did later acknowledge and a mistake made at least as much out of genuine concern that his fears might be right than out of ego. But mainly, Sagan is a hero to me for his ability to gently but firmly insist that people look at the world with clear eyes and embrace the truth, and for communicating that there is beauty, wonder, awe, and grace in so doing.
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: Rewarded for patriotically volunteering to repel the Nazis from his homeland by eight years in a gulag, Solzhenitsyn actually served eleven years. After being freed, he published One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, and then The Gulag Archipelago, the most enduring statements of the evil and terror that the Soviet state used to support itself, while conveying the tremendous heartbreak of seeing his own country become as bad, if not worse, than the enemy he fought as a young man. I can forgive him his late-life return to advocacy of returning to a monarchy because he saw an initially promising democracy immediately slide into oligarchy and autocracy. I have a less easy time forgiving him some rather unpleasant thing he’d said about “World Jewry.” His claim that America had grown soft and Americans unwilling to stand up for their own ideals stings and I reflexively wish to refute him, but at the same time it carries a ring of truth because this is a guy who knows what the price can be to act on one’s convictions. He stood up to a fearsome enemy in the state of his own country, proclaimed the truth to all the world, and even when he came back home to Russia after the fall of the USSR, he didn’t stop insisting on freedom and justice for people who had, for all intents and purposes, never known it. Though flawed, Solzhenitsyn is a modern monument of courage.
So, readers, do you have any heroes from your own living memory? Why are they heroes to you?
* One’s heroes might be characters in works of fiction. Which is not to say that a fictional character might not have imperfections; an imperfect character is generally more interesting than a perfect one.
Burt,
OT, but how did you get the summation in OTC to be other than the initial part of the body of the post?
Magic.
Seriously, I wrote two separate posts. Edited the version for OTC down to a teaser, put in a re-direct in the cross-reference line, and let the long-form post here on the sub-blog stand on its own.
Your next question is probably going to be why did I do that. Sort of an experiment in seeing how much traffic gets driven to the sub-blog this way.
Heh… I didn’t even realize I was on NaPP. Well played, wizard.
I got here through NaPP and didn’t realize I was on OTC.
I think this is the way it should be done for crossposts.
It’s a little bit more work but let’s see how it plays out.
My only dislike about this is that the # of comments doesn’t show in off the cuff… so it looks like everyone is neglecting this post. Not worth NOT doing it, but I thought I would mention it.
Yeah, I haven’t solved that problem yet.
I’m actually more likely to want to comment on something that says “0 Comments” than something that says “54 Comments.”
When Russell or Rose cross-post something, I usually want to comment on whichever thread has fewer comments.
How messed up am I? I’m sociophobic even on the Internet!
That’s quite rational if you comment because you want to be read, which is more likely if your comment is #2 of 5 rather than #132 of 547.
Frank Kameny. I cannot fathom the courage it took for him to come out when he did, to demand respect and fair treatment when he did. I have no idea what my life would be like without his courage.
I learned about him in your tribute (eulogy?) to him. An excellent choice.
I mentioned this on that thread, I suppose I could go into more detail.
I thought that M. Scott Peck was the bizzomb. I read the Road Less Travelled (granted: I was in college) and it explained life and relationships to me. It explained what happened to me with (name redacted), it explained what had happened to me with (deity redacted). I started reading him, sigh, religiously. Children of the Lie scared the crap out of me. A Different Drum had me turn to something akin to socialism. A World Waiting To Be Born had me exploring something akin to courtliness.
Then I bought “In Search Of Stones”.
In the first chapter, Doctor Peck explains, and I paraphrase, “Yeah, I’ve been humping other chicks since I started doing book tours. It’s so much fun doing a new chick *EVERY NIGHT*!!!”
I put the book down.
I stopped reading him.
I understand he divorced shortly after the book was published. Wikipedia confirms. Whatever.
It sounds as though you’ve not really forgiven Dr. Peck for this. I suppose, seeing what his writings got you through, I can understand why that is.
He died. I understand he had a blast.
My forgiveness is completely and totally unnecessary.
Justice Brennan, Justice Warren, and Justice Blackmun all seemed to be great justices and good and honest people especially Justice Blackmun.
Justice Douglas was a brilliant liberal jurist but he seemed to be an absolute misanthrope in his personal life.
If I were going to add a second SCOTUS Justice to this list it would be Thurgood Marshall. In large part for his career as an advocate but his career on the bench was a remarkable second act. I don’t know much about him personally, though.
Put me down as a +1 for Sagan.
I’ve always admired Irena Sendler. Even more lives saved than Oscar Schindler, less of the moral ambiguity, something approaching martyrdom after the war at the hands of the Soviets, truly a tree well deserved in Israel.
Indeed a hero to the whole world, not just to Jews. They get a special claim, of course.
I had never heard of Sendler before. Thanks for informing me!
1. This is going to sound corny, but my sister is my hero. I won’t go into all the reasons why. I will say that being human, she does, I’m sure, have faults, but it’s hard for me to say with confidence what they are.
2. George Orwell. His writing to me is the picture of intellectual honesty. (And in my opinion, his non-fiction is *much* better than 1984 or Animal Farm.) He seemed at times a little homophobic and maybe misogynist, and I’m a far cry from his endorsement of socialism. But his willingness to severely question his fellow and his own assumptions, and his decision to give up a potentially lucrative career as a colonial officer because he didn’t want to be part of the racism that being a colonial officer entailed make him some I admire.
I think it is spectacular that your sister is your hero. I wish I knew her to share in your admiration.
I will say that being human, [my sister] does, I’m sure, have faults, but it’s hard for me to say with confidence what they are.
My initial reaction to this sounds something like, “Ye gods man, did you live your formative years with her in the same household? Have to share your toys? A bathroom? A car? Anything?”
Then I remember that all that vile sibling melodrama — which does sometimes manifest in cruel behavior (cue parental guilt) — is largely par for the course and doesn’t really speak to the nature of our relationships as adult siblings. My own sibling experience bears out this truth*. So do my own kids, come to that.
So I get what you’re saying, Pierre.
In fact, now I wonder if it’s not somehow easier to come to deeply admire our siblings. Something like, “Crikey, you were such an asswipe when we were kids, but you’re actually an amazingly awesome adult. Who knew?”
* If I wasn’t the worst, for sure I’m in the Top Ten of Worst Big Sistersever in the history of the world. (Decades of new info/hindsight and a few years of combined therapy have explained most of it so fortunately neither me or my brother haul around any serious baggage.) My point is that, early-ish in our adult lives, my bro and I discovered a genuine appreciation of one another. As adults. Neither one of us was looking for that to happen, let me tell you. Despite the huge gulf that to this day separates us re politics and religion, we do indeed share much the same values system. I credit my [now close] relationship with my brother with gifting me one of my most treasured insights: hating on regular folks simply because they hold vastly different political or religious positions from myself might very well prove a serious injustice.
For what it’s worth, we fought a lot when we were younger, and growing up, she was kind of a bully (she’s 8 years older than I).* But since then, we’ve got along great.
*I should say that I’m not much of a brother, and if I hadn’t been the youngest, I probably wouldn’ve been a bully too.
Your childhood experience (and age diff) with your sister mirrors my own. Except that you’re the bullied much-younger brother, and I’m the bullying much-older sister.
Interestingly, my bro speaks highly of me too. Now.
I’ve suggested repeatedly to him that clearly I must’ve smacked him too hard at some point in our childhood and he should really get that head injury checked out already.
Yeah, I remember re-meeting someone I knew when we were about 6 or so. She had been a total bitch then, so I was kinda nervous about meeting her (at around age 15). When I actually shared a conversation with her, I was all like “wow, you’re tons better than you were at age 6” (and she was all like “I know!”).
… I hope someday I can impress someone the same way.
Don’t have heroes. There are some folks who have done some things that I admire. Turning someone into a hero only turns to devastation when you come to find out that everyone is human, all too human. I like humans. Heroes are for stories.
Ah but this is my point exactly, Dr. Knapp. As with our parents, we must realize and accept that our heroes are human and that their flaws underline their achievements and that which is admirable — perhaps as like salt underlines the sweetness of caramel.
No, I get it. That’s why I avoid the term hero altogether. Just have a list of “folks who’ve done stuff I admire.”
I am largely with Mr. (Dr.?) Knapp. Maybe it’s because a lot of the people I admire are in the arts – writers, musicians – and they notoriously have feet of clay. Rare seemingly is the artist who was also a decent person to the people around them. And kooky opinions come with the territory.
Sagan is a good choice, he maybe comes closest; and, as we discussed around here recently, Fred Rogers would be a good candidate. Charles Darwin might be one. And for sure this kid.
I hadn’t seen that commercial before. ‘Love it.
Alex and Glyph state my position well. I just can’t work up any comfort with the term “hero.” It seems to demand that they be perfect, or at least have flaws so minor we can politely pass them off as mere eccentricities. I get that others might not see the word that way, but since I do I just can’t say “hero,” without sounding totally sardonic.
But the folks I admire most? Those who stand up against tyranny at risk of their own life, without desire to gain any personal power. Average folks in the civil rights movement, average folks fighting to overthrow Middle Eastern dictatorships, etc.
Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela do’t quite fit James’s definition, but I’d call both of them heroic
Do you really think that anyone over the age of eight has heroes who, in their eyes, can do no wrong? Condemning the notion of heroes seems to me like a straw man. It’s akin to saying that there are no attractive women once you’ve seen a cover-girl without flattering makeup and lighting.
Such is a mature understanding of heroes. As I use the term “hero” here, I’m not meaning an avatar of human perfection, but rather someone you admire.
As for attractiveness of women without flattering makeup and lighting, I think the Doc did a very interesting post a while back on that and there was near-universal agreement that there are indeed women who are attractive with out flattering makeup and lighting.
So you’d agree with me that Alex’s position is a little too overblown?
No, I’d resist that conclusion. There may be a small amount of semantic hair-splitting going on between Dr. Knapp and I regarding the connotations and implications of the word “hero,” but it’s in good faith and his point is a worthy one. We all agree that no one’s perfect.
When I see some Ordinary Joe being turned into a Hero, I wince. They’ve just pushed him, like a sporting clay, into the trap machine. Clunggg! Off he goes, into the air — so the very people who pushed him into the machine can blast away at him — for fun.
But we don’t have to participate in it. This is an extension of my comment to Alex. If we fall into thinking that heroes have to be perfect, that’s our fault. If we fall into resentment against heroes for not being perfect, or seek to prove that our heroes (or other people’s heroes) are flawed, that’s our error as well. We don’t have to yo-yo about this. We can decide to respect that which is respectable without being so self-conscious about it.
Later in his career, he expended much of the goodwill he had generated by tackling political subjects like the notion of nuclear winter,
I’d amend that to *politicized* subjects. The consequences of a nuclear exchange are a perfectly valid thing for scientists to have opinions on. Sagan’s conclusions might have been wrong, but he wasn’t out of place having them.
“I’d amend that to *politicized* subjects. The consequences of a nuclear exchange are a perfectly valid thing for scientists to have opinions on. Sagan’s conclusions might have been wrong, but he wasn’t out of place having them.”
And last I heard, the only things he got wrong were relatively minor, compared to the phenomenon itself (aside from one dumb prediction in the first Gulf War).
Heroine.
Heroin.
Or how Billy Holiday lost her E.
Became a fallen hero,
when she sang to me,
of strange fruit
on awful trees.
Truth to power spoken.
“She must be broken.”
Eliot Coleman
Has a plot of ground
Where Helen and Scott Nehring
Once settled down
And in this place
his garden grows
without soil harm
despite winter’s cold
The Four Season Farm.
Elizabeth Zimmerman.
Who taught me how to Knit
Without Tears
At a time when
I needed to knit
to save my hands
turning withering ghosts
and knitting relegated to
the frumpy grannies.
Alice Waters.
Who remembered
That taste
It can be grown
In the ground.
These four
taught me how to live
beyond the constraints
of how somebody else
thought
I should be living.
(and that’s Billie Holiday; the spelling Gods cursed me.)
I’ve been remiss in not praising this, zic. It’s marvelous. Thank you.
A few years ago, I discovered that there were a couple of people I knew who regarded me as a “hero”. What they thought of as heroic were accomplishments that I simply put down to hard work, stubbornness, and a small willingness to try doing things in a new way. To be honest, I was somewhat dismayed by the designation. There are plenty of people out there who really are brave and who strive to make important changes that will outlive them. Let them be your hero, or role model, or whatever you want to call it — far better to emulate them than me.
What I always really wanted to be — in a literary sense here — was the hero/heroine’s companion. The person who, when at the critical point where the hero cries out “Rope!” and holds out their hand, (a) has anticipated at some earlier time that a bit of rope would probably come in handy, and (b) lugged the damned rope the whole way while surviving the same dangers and adventures as the hero. But with the advantage, as Rufo put it in Glory Road, of getting to eat in the kitchen instead of the banquet hall, where “the food is hotter, the choice is better, and the company less formal.”
It would be churlish to sully your appreciation of Justice O’Connor by mentioning her vote in Bush v. Gore, but I’ll do it anyway. There’s no excuse.
You churl.
No, he was serious. And don’t call him churl-y.
And Leon is getting laaaaarrrrrger.
I’ve picked the wrong day to stop reading blogs.
Get that finger off your keyboard! You don’t know where that finger’s been!
From the time I was very young, there were two standouts to me:
Jim Thorpe and Sequoia.
Both are still very much heroes in my eyes.
My wife, to explain would take a lifetime.