Spider-Man and Philosophy E-Book

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Serie: The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 416

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Untangle the complex web of philosophical dilemmas of Spidey and his world--in time for the release of The Amazing Spider-Man movie Since Stan Lee and Marvel introduced Spider-Man in Amazing Fantasy #15 in 1962, everyone's favorite webslinger has had a long career in comics, graphic novels, cartoons, movies, and even on Broadway. In this book some of history's most powerful philosophers help us explore the enduring questions and issues surrounding this beloved superhero: Is Peter Parker to blame for the death of his uncle? Does great power really bring great responsibility? Can Spidey champion justice and be with Mary Jane at the same time? Finding your way through this web of inquiry, you'll discover answers to these and many other thought-provoking questions. * Gives you a fresh perspective and insights on Peter Parker and Spider-Man's story lines and ideas * Examines important philosophical issues and questions, such as: What is it to live a good life? Do our particular talents come with obligations? What role should friendship play in life? Is there any meaning to life? * Views Spider-Man through the lens of some of history's most influential thinkers, from Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, and Immanuel Kant to Nietszche, William James, Ayn Rand, and Alasdair MacIntyre

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Part One: The Spectacular Life of Spider-Man?

Chapter 1: Does Peter Parker have a Good Life?

Paul Kurtz—A Life of Pleasure and Care for Others

Ayn Rand—Life and Integrity

Epictetus—Self-Control, Duty, and Knowledge of the World

Viktor Frankl—Meaning and Sacrifice

Thomas Aquinas—God and Virtue

What Next?

Chapter 2: What Price Atonement?

Death and Taxes

Ethics and the Infinite

Every Other is Wholly Other

Remaining in Debt

Chapter 3: “My Name is Peter Parker”

To Unmask or Not to Unmask

The Irresistible Iron Man

But on the Other Hand . . .

The Tangled Web that is Consequentialism

Oops!

Remember the Kingpin?

Give Up? Never!

Part Two: Responsibility-Man

Chapter 4: “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility”

“I Have Called You Friends”: The Christian Answer to Why People were Created

“Can’t You Respect Me Enough to Let Me Make My Own Decisions?”: The Foundations of Christian Ethics

“We Always Have a Choice”: The Solution to the Problem of Evil

Dealing with Venom: How to Perfect or Pervert Justice

“It’s the Choices that Make us Who We are:” The Conclusion to the Matter

Chapter 5: Does Great Power Bring Great Responsibility?

Responsibility Does as Responsibility is

Spider-Man, Spider-Man, Does Whatever a Samaritan can

Your Friendly Neighborhood Samaritan

The Do’s and Don’ts of Duties

Unmasking the Bad Samaritan

Spider-Man: Hero or Menace?

How Great is that?

Chapter 6: With Great Power Comes Great Culpability

Peter Parker’s Good and Bad Luck

The Web of Moral Luck

The Two Peter Parkers

The Problem with Moral Luck

Peter Parker: Agent of Regret

Aunt May’s Dark Secret

Power and Responsibility

Part Three: Spider-Sense and the Self

Chapter 7: Why is My Spider-Sense Tingling?

Getting the Sense of Things, Directly

What Danger Looks Like

The Relative Nature of Danger

Is it Really Dangerous?

When the Spider-Sense Fails

Spider-Sense, Spider-Judgment, or Both?

Did We Learn Anything?

Chapter 8: Red or Black

A Hero Transformed

Selves Transformed

The Transforming Self

Chapter 9: With Great Power

Changing the World

Transformation, Virtue, and Vice

Great Responsibility

A Story about a Girl

Part Four: Arachnids “R” Us: Technology and the Human, all too Human

Chapter 10: Transhumanism

Enhancement Anxieties

Like a God among Men

A Lucky Guy

A Strange Liberation Movement

Equality and Biology

Enhancing People and Creating Monsters

Creating MJ’s Smile

Chapter 11: Maximum Clonage

Gwen Stacy is Alive . . . and, Well . . . ?!

The Shattering Secret of Cloning

The Game of Life—What the Saga Gets Wrong (and Right) about Cloning

The Worth of a Clone

Game’s End

Part Five: Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man

Chapter 12: Justice versus Romantic Love

The Primacy of Justice

The Primacy of the Romantic

Romantic Justice or Just Romantic

Chapter 13: Love, Friendship, and Being Spider-Man

A Fine Fellow

Sacrificial Love

MJ Hearts Spider-Man

Some Friend You are! You Stole My Girl! Killed My Father!

Sacrificing Superheroes

Chapter 14: Spidey’s Tangled Web of Obligations

Spinning a Web of Deceit

The Alien Symbiote—Not Your Typical Pile of Dirty Laundry

Here Come the Bad Guys!

Fighting Friends Gone Bad

Lending a Hand—Or Some Webbing

Part Six: The Amazing Speaking Spider: Jokes, Stories, and the Choices We Make

Chapter 15: The Quipslinger

What’s so Funny, Webhead?

Joke’s on You, Bad Guy!

Professor Spidey and the Bad Guys

Spidey Corrects Heroes

The Punch Line

Chapter 16: The Sound and the Fury behind “One More Day”

Do We Lack Character?

Enough about Normal People—What about Superheroes?

So, Who’s Responsible for this Outrage?

Secret Interpretation

What if You had One More Day?

Chapter 17: Spider-Man and the Importance of Getting Your Story Straight

Do We Always have a Choice?

What Storytelling is all about

Not Every Action that Glitters is Virtuous

The Virtue of Spider-Man’s Story

Contributors

Index

The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series

Series Editor: William Irwin

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Edited by Robert Arp

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Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski

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Edited by Jennifer Hart Weed, Richard Davis, and Ronald Weed

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Edited by Rebecca Housel and J. Jeremy Wisnewski

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Heroes and Philosophy

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Twilight and Philosophy

Edited by Rebecca Housel and J. Jeremy Wisnewski

Final Fantasy and Philosophy

Edited by Jason P. Blahuta and Michel S. Beaulieu

Alice in Wonderland and Philosophy

Edited by Richard Brian Davis

Iron Man and Philosophy

Edited by Mark D. White

True Blood and Philosophy

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Mad Men and Philosophy

Edited by James South and Rod Carveth

30 Rock and Philosophy

Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski

The Ultimate Harry Potter and Philosophy

Edited by Gregory Bassham

The Ultimate Lost and Philosophy

Edited by Sharon Kaye

Green Lantern and Philosophy

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The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Philosophy

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Copyright © 2012 by John Wiley and Sons. All rights reserved

Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey

Published simultaneously in Canada

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ISBN 978-0-470-57560-4 (paper); ISBN 978-1-118-21541-8 (ebk);

ISBN 978-1-118-21575-3 (ebk); ISBN 978-1-118-21535-7 (ebk)

To my MJ, Rebecca, and to all of our wall-crawlers, Isaac, Joseph, Benjamin, Elijah, Jonathan, Mary, and David.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks go to the Philosophy and Pop Culture series editor, William Irwin, who set me to work on this project and provided invaluable support throughout the process. Thanks go as well to Constance Santisteban at Wiley for her help each step of the way, and to Richard DeLorenzo for getting the book into top shape and over the finish line. I’m especially grateful to all of the contributors who offer us here their great creative talents at no small cost of time and effort. Finally, I wish to thank my friends and colleagues who pulled off the delicate balance of teasing and encouragement when they learned I was working on this book. That’s right, I wasn’t kidding.

INTRODUCTION

Have you heard this one yet? A carpenter, Spider-Man, and a philosopher walk into a bar. The bartender asks, “What’ll it be?” “A screwdriver,” says the carpenter with a sigh. “A Bloody Mary Jane,” says Spider-Man with a smirk. “Did I just hear you ask about “being”?” says the philosopher, dead serious.

No, of course, you haven’t. I just made it up—and it’s pretty lousy. You’d probably have to know a few philosophers to get the last punch line. You see, we philosophers are known for taking things seriously, sometimes too seriously. Such as Spider-Man. “A book about Spider-Man and philosophy? Seriously? No, no; wait. Seriously!?” Yes, seriously.

And why the heck not? Spider-Man, after all, climbs buildings, swings from strings, and wears bright form-fitting clothes. Why shouldn’t we subject him to analysis?

But seriously, I’m sure I wasn’t the only Generation X kid to sit through The Electric Company just to catch the latest cartoon of my favorite superhero or the only adult who could hardly wait to see Spidey in action on the silver screen. In fact, Spider-Man’s been around far longer than I, and probably you, have. Since Stan Lee and Marvel introduced him in Amazing Fantasy #15 in 1962, we can’t seem to get enough of Spider-Man. He’s been in series after series of amazing and spectacular comic versions of Spider-Man, in cartoon versions, in a brief dramatic television series, and in cinematic variations, and he’s even made it to Broadway. Over the years, Spider-Man seems to have acquired two additional superpowers: ubiquity and perpetual youth.

What accounts for Spider-Man’s massive appeal? I don’t know that there is any one answer to that question. Certainly, our fascination with coming-of-age stories motivates a good part of that appeal—and Peter Parker’s coming of age is certainly a lot like ours while also spectacularly different. Peter is a bit of geek, struggles to fit in with his peers, and has experienced serious heartache already in life. In other words, he’s the classic underdog, and who doesn’t have a soft spot for underdogs? Like a lot of us, Peter learns to combat the evils in his life with abilities he didn’t realize he had.

Yet the reasons for the appeal go deeper. Peter is self-reflective. He’s a seeker. He’s trying to figure this world out and find his place in it. He has a strong moral compass, but he sometimes struggles to follow its lead. Yet in the end, he triumphs. In these ways, too, he’s like us. Like us, but with abilities we can only dream to have.

All of the ways Spider-Man appeals to us, and all of the ways he gives evidence of a philosophical disposition notwithstanding, this is not really a book about Spider-Man or why he fascinates us. This is a book about the sorts of questions Spider-Man inspires and the sorts of answers to significant questions this fictional character provides us with; it’s a book about philosophy. Philosophy is, if Plato (428–348 BCE) can be trusted, a frenzied passion for the truth, the love of wisdom, the pursuit of answers to fundamental questions, a way of life. The authors of the chapters in this book are all philosophers, most are college professors, and all are teachers of one sort or another. We thought we’d snag a few more students into our webs while writing about our favorite wall-crawler. Sneaky of us, isn’t it?

There are all sorts of philosophical questions prompted by thinking about Spider-Man. What is it to live a good life? What do we owe to our family, to our friends, to our neighbors? Do our particular talents come with obligations? How do I know what I think I know? Am I the same person throughout the vast changes of my lifetime? Are there ethical limits to attempts to enhance my abilities? What role should friendship play in my life? With whom can I, or should I, be friends? How publicly should I live my life? How seriously should I take my life? Is there, ultimately, any meaning to life?

These and more are the questions taken up in this book. If you’ve been around the philosophical block once or twice, you’ll notice there aren’t too many questions of a strictly metaphysical sort—no attempts to categorize modes of being or to think about absolutely first causes and principles or to ponder how we might tell the difference between the real world and illusion. This isn’t because the authors aren’t interested in those questions—far from it. No, if you’re looking for someone to blame for the dearth of metaphysical analyses, blame Spider-Man. The philosophical nerves he tends to touch are more immediate and palpable—the ones that get us thinking about the question that the most famous philosopher of all, Socrates, put ever before us: how are you going to live your life?

Get serious! Have fun! Enjoy! You can blame us if you soon find yourself snagged in a web of inquiry.

PART ONE

THE SPECTACULAR LIFE OF SPIDER-MAN?

CHAPTER 1

DOES PETER PARKER HAVE A GOOD LIFE?

Neil Mussett

Spider-Man is a geek. Don’t get me wrong—I call him that with affection. I myself am quite a geek: computer programmer by day, secret philosopher by night. I’m just saying that if Batman weren’t a superhero, he’d spend his days on yachts with supermodels; Superman would work as a pro-bono lawyer; and Wonder Woman would start an animal preserve in Kenya. (Can you tell I’m more of a D.C. guy?) Peter Parker would work at a lab in a university, design Web pages, or teach high school science. We care about Spider-Man because he’s just like us but with special powers. Peter Parker has all sorts of problems: he’s an orphan. He was raised by his older, old-fashioned aunt and uncle. He grew up poor and stays poor in many of the story lines. Even when he does find love, he doesn’t seem to be any good at it. He’s interesting because he doesn’t have it together. Even his superpowers cause problems for him—he has to lie to the people he loves to protect them, and that keeps him from getting close. Other superheroes have their secrets, but for some reason, Peter always feels the consequences more than they do.

The question is, then, would you like to be Spider-Man? Does Peter Parker have a good life? What is a good life, anyway? It seems like a simple enough question. Some answers seem too simple: If I play The Sims video game, I learn that the good life consists of color-coordinated furniture, successful parties, career advancement, and regular trips to the bathroom. Other answers sound good (or at least complicated) but don’t stick with you: when I see an author on this week’s talk show promoting his Secret to Happiness, I can’t help wondering what happened to last week’s secret on the same show.

If philosophy is good for anything, it has to be for the Big Question, the Meaning of Life. There have been a lot of philosophers since Thales of Miletus (ca. 624 BCE) first put in his big plug for water—designating it to be the first principle of everything, by which he seems to have meant that all things really are at bottom water or at least came to be from water. In this paper, I’m going to discuss only five: a Roman slave, a begging friar, a novelist, a psychiatrist, and an academic. Two atheists, and three followers of three different religions. Three of these were imprisoned, two were tortured. Two spent time in concentration camps. One lived under an assumed name to protect the innocent, and we don’t even know the name of another. One never wrote a book, and one wrote more than forty-five. Three have appeared in comic books. Each of these philosophers has given us a complete, and completely different, way to understand ourselves and our lives and a way to find a place for pain and pleasure, other people, morality, and God in the good life.

Paul Kurtz—A Life of Pleasure and Care for Others

I’ll start with the contemporary philosopher Paul Kurtz, partly because he lives near me in Buffalo, New York, but also because I suspect that his answer to the Great Question will most resemble yours. You may not have heard of him, but he’s the author or the editor of more than forty-five books and more than eight hundred published articles. He has popularized the term secular humanism to describe an approach to life that focuses on joyful, creative living, a rejection of all religious claims, and a rational consequence-based ethics.

The good life, Kurtz tells us, has two components: First, the good life is the happy life. What is happiness? Historically, philosophers have described happiness either as pleasure (the hedonists) or as self-actualization (the eudaemonists). Kurtz argues that both are essential to the good life:

If an individual is to achieve a state of happiness, he needs to develop a number of excellences. I will only list these, without explication: the capacity for autonomous choice and freedom, creativity, intelligence, self-discipline, self-respect, high motivation, good will, an affirmative outlook, good health, the capacity to enjoy pleasure, and aesthetic appreciation.1

Does this describe Spider-Man? Peter has certainly determined his own destiny. We know that he’s smart; he actually invents his own web shooters in the comic book. In general, he keeps his cool, but we have seen Spider-Man lose control at times. In Spider-Man 3, we see him go to some strange lengths to embarrass Mary Jane at a jazz club after she breaks up with him. He is young, however, and at the time he was under the influence of an evil spider suit from another planet, so we can forgive him.

Does he enjoy pleasure? His parents are dead. His uncle is dead, and it’s his fault. His aunt is poor, alone, and constantly in danger. In the comic, Peter accidentally kills his first love, Gwen Stacy, when he pulls too hard on his web while saving her from a fall. It does not seem that Peter has enjoyed the “multiplicities of sexuality,” which Kurtz sees as “so essential to happiness.”2 He never seems to have any money. He’s a brilliant scientist, but he doesn’t have the reputation he deserves. J. Jonas uses the newspaper to turn the public against Spider-Man, so Peter can’t even enjoy popular acclaim. I submit to you that it is part of the very essence of Spider-Man that he has a pointedly painful life.

For Kurtz, happiness is important, but we can’t live the truly good life alone. Kurtz insists that each of us needs to develop in ourselves the ethical principles of integrity, trustworthiness, benevolence, and fairness. We also need to “develop love and friendship for their own sakes, as goods in themselves.”3 Finally, we need to “consider all members of the human family to be equal in dignity and value.”4 Not only does Peter Parker place himself in danger to save innocent lives, he’s also a good friend, a loving nephew, and a kind boyfriend. They don’t call him “friendly” for nothing.

It wouldn’t be a discussion of Kurtz’s philosophy without mentioning religion. Kurtz believes strongly that God is a postulation without sufficient evidence.5 Does Pete believe in God? It’s hard to say. God and religion aren’t central to Spider-Man’s story, but some have argued that Peter may be a mild Protestant Christian.6

I think for Kurtz, the jury is out on Peter Parker’s life. On the plus side, he has realized his extraordinary talents and displayed goodwill toward man. On the minus side, his difficult life and obsession with monogamy have robbed Peter of some of the best parts of living. Kurtz might say that Peter is happy; he does have an “active life of enterprise and endeavor,” but Kurtz also believes that life should be fun, and fun seems hard to come by for Peter.7

Ayn Rand—Life and Integrity

Although Paul Kurtz and Ayn Rand (1908–1982) are both atheists, they give incompatible answers to the Big Question. Kurtz wants you to realize that you can be altruistic without religion; Rand wants you to stop being altruistic. Kurtz asks you to develop a “deep appreciation for the needs of other human beings,”8 Rand asks you to “learn to treat as the mark of a cannibal any man’s demand for your help.”9

You may know her through the video game Bioshock, which was inspired by her writings. You may have seen the 1999 movie The Passion of Ayn Rand, based on her life. You may also know her as the star of the comic book Action Philosophers #2 (2005). Steve Ditko, the original artist for The Amazing Spider-Man, had what one author calls a “cultish devotion” to her philosophy of Objectivism.10

Alisa Zinov’yevna Rosenbaum was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, in 1905, and her family suffered at the hands of the Communist Revolution of 1917. After completing a degree in history, she moved to Hollywood to become a screenwriter. Fearing for her family’s safety in Russia, she changed her name to Ayn Rand when she began to write anti-Soviet stories. She’s most famous for her 1957 novel Atlas Shrugged, about a future in which the producers, the artists, and the entrepreneurs of the world go on strike. (I just checked Amazon.com, and it’s still number one in political philosophy.)

In a lifeless world, she said, there are no choices and no alternatives. With life comes the most fundamental alternative: existence or nonexistence. Matter is indestructible, life is not. A living organism can succeed or fail to sustain itself. If it fails, it dies. Life creates value, that which a living organism acts to attain. Things are good or evil to the extent that they sustain or destroy life. Happiness is achieving one’s values, and “pain is an agent of death.”11

Man has the unique power of rationality. Just as nonrational animals use whatever faculties they possess to survive, man’s rational nature demands a rational means of survival. He has no instinct of self-preservation, no “automatic code of survival.”12 The lower animals have no choice but to act for their own good; man must choose his own actions by thought. “What are the values his survival requires?” she asked. “That is the question to be answered by the science of ethics.”13 Rand’s model for an ethical act was the trade. In a trade, each man must “give value for value.”14 The opposite of the trade would be force, violence, or theft, which would be unethical because it requires the sacrifice of one rational agent for the benefit of another.15

I’m afraid Ayn Rand wouldn’t have had good things to say about Spider-Man. Think about it: Peter Parker has superhuman strength, scientific genius, and the ability to climb walls and see the near future. How does he use it? At first, he uses it to make money as a pro-wrestler (in the comic, he has quite a successful career). When he decides not to intervene in a robbery that has nothing to do with him, his uncle is murdered. This event moves him to dedicate his life to saving a public that hates him. He hides his identity and lives in squalor, all for the sake of his uncle’s advice about power and responsibility. In other words, Peter becomes Rand’s “prostitute whose standard is the greatest good for the greatest number.”16

In many ways, Spider-Man is an allegory, a fairy tale, of what Rand called the “morality of sacrifice,” which she believed was the opposite of true ethics.17 For the morality of sacrifice, the good is always the good ofothers. The morality of sacrifice praises any act motivated by the welfare of another person and criticizes any act motivated by one’s own welfare. Rand summarized the morality of sacrifice this way: “If you wish it, it’s evil; if others wish it, it’s good; if the motive of your action is your welfare, don’t do it; if the motive is the welfare of others, then anything goes.”18 According to Rand, this self-destructive theory demands that we love those whom we do not value and tells us that “To love a man for his virtues is paltry and human . . . to love him for his flaws is divine.”19 This is the sort of love Spider-Man has for his public, and it’s the reason why Rand would have said that he is not living the good life.

Epictetus—Self-Control, Duty, and Knowledge of the World

Ayn Rand believed that (traditional) morality is destructive to happiness, but there was a philosopher who believed that morality is sufficient for happiness. Unlike Rand, who lived under an assumed name, we don’t even know the name of this philosopher. All we know of him is that he was a slave in Rome, so we call him “Acquired” (epiktetos in Greek). He was born about 55 AD, and if our five philosophers were to fight, I would put my money on him. Origen gave us a snapshot of a man who is tough as nails:

[T]ake Epictetus, who, when his master was twisting his leg, said, smiling and unmoved, “You will break my leg;” and when it was broken, he added, “Did I not tell you that you would break it?”20

While he was still a slave, Epictetus attended the lectures of a Stoic philosopher, Musonius Rufus. He became a philosopher himself, and when he was given his freedom sometime before the year 89, he taught philosophy in Rome and lived to be almost a hundred years old.21

Epictetus lived the life of a slave and an exile, but he considered his own life to be good. His answer to the Big Question was simple: to have a good life, you must (1) master your desires; (2) perform your duties; and (3) think correctly about yourself and the world. Most people neglect the first two and focus only on the third.

Epictetus would say that Kurtz and Rand have a huge underlying problem: they base happiness on chance. Most of life is out of our control. The pleasures they describe may sound attractive, but what if you were born a slave? What if your parents die and your uncle is killed? What if there is more pain in your life than pleasure? Is your life bad? Epictetus puts happiness in the one place that’s immune to life’s disasters: your own power of choice. We can lead happy lives under any circumstances, as long as we master our desires and depend only on those things that are in our control:

I must die. Must I then die lamenting? I must be put in chains. Must I then also lament? I must go into exile. Does any man then hinder me from going with smiles and cheerfulness and contentment?22

Epictetus addresses something that is essential to Spider-Man and every other superhero: attachment. What is Spider-Man’s greatest weakness? His attachment to Aunt May and MJ. Even if Spider-Man were immortal, his friends aren’t. Nothing he has is his very own; it is given to him for the moment, not forever or inseparably, but for a season. Peter should remind himself of this whenever he saves his loved ones from danger or even takes pleasure in their company. Epictetus asks us this provocative question:

What harm is there in whispering to yourself as you kiss your child, “To-morrow you will die,” and to your friend in like manner, “To-morrow you or I shall go away, and we shall see one another no more?”23

Would Epictetus have given Spider-Man a passing grade in his school for Stoics? Peter is a hero and a scholar, so he gets full credit for duties and learning. Has Peter mastered himself ? Peter is no coward—he doesn’t run from pain or mortal danger. Yet self-mastery is more than courage in battle; it’s freedom from the pains of this world. In the movies, he spends years pining for MJ, basing his happiness on something he can’t obtain. He spends his life torn between the call of duty and a need for personal comforts. He doesn’t prepare himself for loss and pain, so when they happen to him, he loses his peace. Spider-Man has a long way to go before he can be counted among “The Wise.” As much as he cares for Aunt May, he needs to learn that his obsession with her safety keeps him from living the truly good life.

Viktor Frankl—Meaning and Sacrifice

Perhaps it’s just the opposite. Perhaps genuine care for others is what the good life is all about. Viktor Frankl (1905–1997) lived a life just as hard as Epictetus’s but came up with a different answer. Frankl was a Jewish psychologist who suffered in several concentration camps, including Auschwitz, Dachau, and one camp without a name. While he was in Auschwitz, he decided that the best way to keep himself going was to write a book on the psychology of death camps. He did survive, and what started as a book became an entirely new school of psychology that seeks to relieve emotional distress through meaning.

For Frankl, the good life is the life of meaning. “Meaning” is primarily a matter of responsibility—there is some good I need to do.24 In a meaningful life, I have a sense of my own irreplacability—nobody else can carry out my particular duty for me. In that sense, there’s no one “meaning of life.” Rather, each person’s life has an entirely unique meaning that needs to be discovered.25 Meaning shapes and organizes everything else within my life. It’s the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Meaning also changes the nature of suffering. Frankl claimed that “There is nothing in the world . . . that would so effectively help one to survive even the worst of conditions as the knowledge that there is a meaning to one’s life.”26 He was fond of quoting Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900), who wrote, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”27 If suffering is associated with meaning, with love, it becomes sacrifice. Sacrifice, rather than being something to avoid, is actually an essential part of the good life. Frankl is very clear that the very worst life is the life of boredom, which can only lead to an obsessive pursuit of temporary highs.28

To decide whether Spider-Man has a good life, it’s not enough to admire his heroic actions—Peter must see the purpose himself. Although it’s obvious to us that nobody else can do what he does, he may not see the point of it all. The pain in Peter’s life is real. Not only did Peter suffer from his childhood as a poor, unpopular orphan, he suffers in the present from his own actions and lifestyle. He suffers when he gets hurt, and he suffers in his personal life.

Frankl, on the other hand, would have asked Peter to decide whether his life is good. He would have sat Peter down and asked him, “Why don’t you kill yourself ?” This rather shocking question would not be meant to encourage Peter to jump off a bridge. Instead, it would force Peter to find the things that keep him going, despite the suffering. Frankl said that it’s ironic that most people think the job of the psychologist is to relieve stress. The best way to help people in crisis is often to increase the amount of tension in their lives by helping them focus on their responsibilities. He used a metaphor from architecture—to strengthen a weak arch in a building, you add weight. Frankl could have added to Uncle Ben’s advice: with great responsibility comes the knowledge of your own purpose.

The closest thing we have to Peter’s answer to this question may be the encounter he has with the evil psychologist Dr. Judas Traveller, in Amazing Spider-Man #402 (1995). During the infamous Clone Saga (1994–1996), Traveller meets Spider-Man at an all-time low point in his life: Aunt May is dead, his baby with MJ may have genetic defects, and Peter has been imprisoned. Traveller offers Peter a chance to have the peaceful life he always wanted but at the cost of innocent lives. He refuses and attacks Traveller. In doing so, Peter shows us that he’d rather live a life of great sacrifice and pain than betray his love of humanity.

Thomas Aquinas—God and Virtue

There’s one superhero we haven’t talked about so far. You may not have heard of him, but there are specialty stores where you can still get his books, pictures of him, and even his emblem on a chain. Like Harry Osborn, he was born to a rich and powerful family. They wanted to use their influence to get him a cushy job, but he wanted to join a rag-tag band of men who wandered the world helping those in need. His family was so opposed to his plans that they had him kidnapped and locked in a castle tower for almost two years. His mother had a change of heart and had his sisters rescue him with some ropes and a basket. He has some nicknames, the Angelic Doctor and the Dumb Ox, but most know him simply as Thomas.

Yes, I am talking about St. Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225–1274). I put him last—a dead giveaway that he’s my favorite. Thomas Aquinas wrote on most major branches of classical philosophy. Believing that faith and reason are entirely compatible, he also wrote on a wide variety of subjects, including angels and even economics. If you’re brave, get a hold of the medieval equivalent of a comic book, Dante’s Divine Comedy (including the ultraviolent Inferno), which is an epic poem about a man who travels from Hell to Purgatory to Heaven. Dante was so inspired by Thomas’s philosophy that he used it as the setting of his poem.

Like Kurtz, Thomas argued that all men want happiness, and that a perfectly good life would fulfill all of our desires, including that for the perfection of our bodies.29 Also like Kurtz, Thomas believed that it’s an essential part of our nature to care for others, and that all people are capable of living virtuous lives, whether or not they accept Christianity.30 Like Rand, Thomas believed that true morality will always benefit the one who acts, and that pleasure in acting increases the moral worthiness of the action.31 He held, with Rand, that we love what’s good, what’s deserving and praiseworthy and excellent.32 Even the best person shouldn’t love other people more than he loves himself.33 Thomas agreed with Epictetus that happiness is ultimately a choice, and it cannot be taken away by the actions of others.34 Finally, like Frankl, Thomas believed that in the good life, love is the ultimate motivation, and love allows us even to enjoy suffering for our friends.35

How could Thomas say all of this? I don’t have enough room here to give even the roughest sketch of Thomas’s ethics. It’ll have to suffice to say that for Thomas, everything was good, our bodies, our minds, the world, and especially God. The only way you could even get anything bad would be if a thing was missing something it should have (people usually use blindness as an example or a car without brakes or a superhero without a costume). Every desire we have points to some good thing that can fulfill it. Our desire for happiness has no limit, and the more we experience of the world, the more we know that it can’t perfectly satisfy us. Thomas said that everybody wants to be happy, but what they don’t realize is that only God, Who is unlimited Goodness, can make them perfectly happy.36

Reading Kurtz or Rand, one would think that Aquinas hated this world, hated life, and hated the body, but it is quite the opposite. Thomas adopted Aristotle’s (384–322 BCE) concept of a virtue. Yes, a virtue is a good habit, but it is more than that. A virtue changes you—it makes you enjoy doing good. A generous person actually likes giving. Doing an occasional nice thing here or there is fine, but if you do it enough, you get hooked, and it stops being work to do the right thing. That’s how Thomas could link morality with pleasure. The truly virtuous person is filled with joy when doing good and, in a sense, can do whatever he or she wants.

Without any notion of God, people can still love one another, because every person is born with a sense of decency, a sense that moral actions are compatible, appropriate, and healthy. This is because of the Natural Law, called so because it comes from our nature as rational beings. We start with loving ourselves, but we can come to identify with others, see them as other selves, and love them as well. Through God’s action, we can be given the virtue of charity, which allows us to love God in a completely selfless way, to love those around us as images of God, and to love ourselves and our bodies as God’s creations.37

What would Thomas say about Spidey’s life? I actually find it difficult to picture driving Thomas Aquinas to a movie theater, but if we could arrange it, I think he would have good things to say about Mr. Parker. He would praise Peter’s moral and intellectual virtues: courage, creativity, good judgment, compassion, and restraint. Most of us don’t have the opportunity to do good to all men, but Peter does, and his beneficence is very close to the highest virtue, charity.38

The life of a superhero does have its pleasures. Thomas would say that Spider-Man enjoys saving the world for three important reasons: First, the effect—the love he has for the people he saves allows him to enjoy their good as if it were his own. Second, the end—Peter knows (or at least hopes) that he’ll receive good things for his efforts, such as gratitude and praise. Finally, the principle—he enjoys using his superpowers, exercising his virtues, and doing things out of love.

What about Peter’s suffering? Thomas believed that in itself, sorrow or pain is not evil in a moral sense (disagreeing with Ayn Rand). There are actually several kinds of good pain: remorse, or sorrow for all of the harm we have done, is actually very good. Uncle Ben’s advice is powerful because it’s associated with a tragic mistake. The anger and loss Peter feels at the crimes of his opponents is also a kind of pain but a good pain. Suffering heightens Peter’s awareness of risk and a desire to avoid repeating past mistakes, which is very helpful. Thomas agreed that suffering could be bad, but he insisted that no suffering, interior or exterior, could outweigh the badness of failing to reject evil.39 If there’s a balance to be struck, Peter has come out on the right side.

What Next?

Nothing is more depressing than talking to a philosopher who doesn’t believe in anything. I have very strong beliefs about the Meaning of Life (a combination of Frankl and Thomas, with a little Detrich von Hildebrand thrown in for fun), but it’s not my plan to argue for one particular winner in this chapter. There are two general approaches to answering this question, the academic (read everything you can and make a decision) and the concrete (find someone who has what you want and ask how he or she got it). Whichever way you choose, it’s vital for you to pursue the answer.

NOTES

1. Paul Kurtz, Living without Religion: Eupraxophy (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 1994), 41.

2. Paul Kurtz, Embracing the Power of Humanism (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000), 6.

3. Ibid.

4. Paul Kurtz, “Toward a New Enlightenment: A Response to the Postmodernist Critique of Humanism,” Free Inquiry 13 (1992–1993): 33–37.

5. Kurtz, Living without Religion, 33.

6. See www.adherents.com/lit/comics/Spider-Man.html.

7. Paul Kurtz, “Where Is the Good Life? Making the Humanist Choice,” Free Inquiry 18 (1998): 23–24.

8. Paul Kurtz, Vern L. Bullough, and Timothy J. Madigan, Toward a New Enlightenment: The Philosophy of Paul Kurtz (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books, 1994), 21.

9. Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged (New York: Random House, 1957), 1059.

10. Andrew Hultkrans, “Steve Ditko’s Hands,” in Sean Howe, ed., Give Our Regards to the Atomsmashers! (New York: Pantheon Books, 2004), 209–223.

11. Rand, Atlas Shrugged, 940.

12. Ibid., 939.

13. Rand, The Virtue of Selfishness, 24.

14. Rand, Atlas Shrugged, 410.

15. Rand, The Virtue of Selfishness, 32.

16. Ibid., 1030.

17. Ibid., 959.

18. Rand, Atlas Shrugged, 1030.

19. Ibid.

20.The Writings of Origen, trans. Frederick Crombie (University of California: T & T Clark, 1872), 475.

21. John Lancaster Spalding, “Critical and Biographical Introduction,” in Discourses of Epictetus, trans. George Long (New York: D. Appleton, 1904), iv.

22. Epictetus, Discourses of Epictetus, trans. George Long (New York: D. Appleton, 1904), 3.

23. Epictetus, Epictetus the Discourses and Manual, trans. P. E. Matheson (London: Oxford University Press, 2009), 97.

24. Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (New York: Washington Square Press, 1984), 127.

25. Ibid., 131.

26. Ibid., 126.

27. Ibid.

28. Ibid., 128.

29. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Ia IIae, q.1, aa.6–7; and Ia IIae, q.4, a.6.

30. Ibid., Ia IIae, q.91, a.2.

31. Ibid., IIa IIae, q.27, a.3; IIa IIae, q.123, a.12; IIa IIae, q.27, a.8; Ia IIae, q.59, a.2.

32. Ibid., Ia IIae, q.10, a.1.

33. Ibid., IIa IIae, q.26, a.4; Ia IIae, q.29, a.4.

34. Ibid., Ia IIae, q.3, a.2; Ia IIae, q.4, a.7.

35. Ibid., Ia IIae, q.32, a.6.

36. Ibid., Ia IIae, q.2, a.8.

37. Ibid., IIa IIae, qq.23–46.

38. Ibid., IIa IIae, q.31, a.3.

39. Ibid., Ia IIae, q.39.

CHAPTER 2

WHAT PRICE ATONEMENT?

Peter Parker and the Infinite Debt

Taneli Kukkonen

Peter Parker can’t catch a break! Whatever he does, however hard he tries, Peter struggles in vain to balance his obligations as a masked crime fighter with those he must face every day as a normal human being. Is Spider-Man supposed to chase down some costumed goon while Peter’s Aunt May lies sick in bed? Then again, is Peter supposed to sit back and study when there’s a crime taking place that only Spider-Man can prevent? And where, if anywhere, does love fit into the equation? Does Peter even have a right to date, let alone commit to, anybody? If he does take that step and give in to his heart, doesn’t this impose on him duties fundamentally in conflict with the life led by Spider-Man?

To make matters worse, Peter never gets to explain himself fully to the people he inevitably lets down. Sometimes he has trouble justifying his decisions even to himself. Yet Peter persists, doggedly pursuing his impossible balancing act of a life, terminally fated to feel inadequate. Why? Two notions are central here: guilt and debt. On one hand, Peter feels guilt for Uncle Ben’s death, and his costumed pursuit of criminals is a way of atoning for that sin. On the other, Peter also feels incredibly indebted to Aunt May and is thereby driven to be a good student, a doting nephew, and a fretful breadwinner. Because Uncle Ben is dead, Peter can never forsake his duties as Spider-Man; because Aunt May remains very much alive—despite five decades of funny-book senior life—he can never give himself completely to a life of crimefighting. Compare this with another parental avenger, Bruce Wayne, who really is the Batman, and for whom the role of Wayne has become merely a convenient facade. This is not the case with Peter, who feels genuinely torn. As Professor Miles Warren wonders, “Imagine learning what motivates such a man! Is it altruism—or deep-rooted schizophrenia? I’ll bet he’s even an enigma to himself!”1 Guilt or gift? You decide, but consider this first.

Death and Taxes

It’s curious that Peter feels obliged to avenge Uncle Ben’s death over and over again. Consider the analogous case with Batman. Joe Chill, the hood who killed Thomas and Martha Wayne, is never caught, nor is Bruce Wayne in any way responsible for the killing. So it’s understandable that he should displace his anger into a war against all criminals. Spider-Man, though, does have a reason to feel responsible for Uncle Ben’s death, because he let the robber who would go on to kill Ben get away; then again, to balance things out, he does catch the murderer almost immediately. If what we’re dealing with here is debt, why is this not enough to cancel it? Or, if not that, then shouldn’t the hundreds of criminals and killers Spider-Man has put away count for something, at least? Apparently not; Peter feels just as guilty and indebted today as he did in his feature debut.

In the history of philosophy, this kind of ineradicable debt is most often associated with the debt that people owe to God. Indeed, the parallels between the two are remarkably close. Peter often ponders how much Uncle Ben and Aunt May have given him, how they are the two people to whom he owes everything. Ben and May have made Peter who he is, selflessly providing him with all he needs, in terms of both earthly goods and moral guidance. What does he do in his first act of newfound independence (plainly, Peter’s emerging powers are a stand-in for emerging adolescent maturity)? Peter spectacularly lets down his protectors, failing to heed their moral teachings. Peter is thereby robbed of that cocoon of total love that had surrounded him earlier. Even his relations with Aunt May hereon take on an aspect of guilt, secrecy, and pain. There’s a “Paradise Lost” feel to all of this, to be sure, and it is entirely self-inflicted. This is Peter’s primordial act of transgression, a half-remembered experience of original sin, which puts him beyond the reach of heaven forevermore.

The operative notion here is “infinite debt.” The question is whether repayment of such a debt is ever possible and on what terms. Anselm of Canterbury (1103–1109), one of the foremost thinkers of medieval times, built a whole theology of atonement around this question. The contents of this doctrine, which are encapsulated in his treatise on Why God Became a Human Being, can be summarized as follows. (1) As fallen creatures, we can direct our will either toward happiness or toward justice but no longer toward both: we primarily want either that which we mistakenly believe will make us happy or that which is in fact just in some universal sense. (2) In choosing their own happiness over justice, humankind and the fallen angels before it committed a sin against the majesty of God, to whom endless gratitude is justly owed. (3) This puts us infinitely in God’s debt, for to repair one’s behavior afterward is only to give God what was His due in the first place and therefore does nothing to make up for the original transgression. No amount of good deeds will ever absolve us of this debt.2

This last point is illustrated in “The Final Chapter,” penciled and plotted by Steve Ditko.3 Here, Spider-Man dares to dream of a time when he’ll be free of his burden. The occasion presents itself to save the life of another loved one: “No matter what the odds—no matter what the cost—I’ll get that serum to Aunt May! And maybe then I’ll no longer be haunted by the memory—of Uncle Ben!” In a feat of superhuman strength, Peter fights against overwhelming odds to deliver the treasured serum to Aunt May. Still, in the next installment, “The Thrill of the Hunt,” everything goes on much as it did before: Peter forsakes Betty Brant, for love interests may come and go, “but Spider-Man I’ve been—and always will be—for as long as I live!”4 The demand for justice again trumps Peter’s desire for personal happiness. Aiding Aunt May has done nothing to dispel the specter of Uncle Ben.

Perhaps this is for the best. As the Danish philosopher S⊘ren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) noted in his Works of Love, it would be cold and unloving of someone who’d just performed some magnanimous feat for the sake of somebody else to then add, “See, now I have paid my debt.”5 According to both Anselm and Kierkegaard, it would be futile as well. There simply is no way one can repay a debt of love.

Anselm went on to argue that this was why the Incarnation was necessary. Only God could repay God and truly set us free, because only God made flesh could do more