Heroes Belong to All of Us

Boyce said the fact so many "complete strangers" donated cash to ensure a little boy they never met will never be forgotten is "a testament to the human spirit."

 

The tribute to the tot briefly hit a roadblock earlier this year when DC Entertainment initially refused to grant permission for its famous Superman logo to be emblazoned across Jeffrey's chest.

 

But the company later had a change of heart. 

 

DC is a for-profit company.  They exist to make money.  Why should they do something that doesn't serve that purpose?  Why should any of us do things that don't serve our direct interest?  If there's no immediate ROI, if there's risk and the potential that our efforts may not succeed, what's the point?

 

But there's more to being a human being that self-interest.  Our ability to be more than the sum of our parts, together, is core to what makes us human.  It can be very hard to do, though - in a world that often seems petty, self-interested and cruel, it's can be a frightening thing to be the first one to think and do differently.  There's always the chance no one will follow, and then you're out there alone.

 

Superman is a trademark, but the idea behind him is as old as story telling.  Superman is the adult in the room, the strength to carry us when we're weak, the shield at the front that gives us all courage to move forward. 

 

Superman inspires - that's what heroes do best.

 

Poor Jeffrey Baldwin is an unconventional hero; he saved no lives and fought no wars, expect perhaps the one that was his short life.  For a moment, though, despite everything that he endured, in spite of the hardship that was all he knew, Jeffrey Baldwin was Superman.

 

And thanks to the heroic efforts of Todd Boyce, he will remain Superman.

 

That's it - the big secret, the thing left in the box, the piece of the puzzle we simply need to raise our gaze to see.

 

Heroes aren't brands to be bought into; heroism is human aspiration we crave, reach out for with tentative hands but, when the light shines bright enough, we embrace.

 

We need heroes - that's why we create them.

I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride, even though sometimes we have to be steady, and give up the thing we want the most. Even our dreams.

 

Political Kung Fu in #topoli

There's an election on in Toronto - a legendary battle between legendary campaign teams whose spinning skills are the stuff of legend.

At least, that seems to be how the campaign teams feel.  For the average bear on the street, they don't know and don't care.  Chow, Tory, whoever - they're all the same, except Rob Ford.  Ford is the outlier, Dean Moriarty made Mayor - people are transfixed by the car-wreck that is his mayoralty and his life.  His appeal is that he puts the FU into politics, sticking it to the system and the rules in ways many, many citizens wish they could.

Citizens are increasingly apathetic about politics and democracy as a whole - they don't believe in the former and don't believe the latter really exists any more, but don't feel as if there's anything they can do about it.

Like a Kung Fu epic, there are tough-talking warriors fighting with media acrobatics on a hill, occasionally touching down like tornadoes to wreak havoc on the lives and communities of the villagers.  When the credits role, it doesn't really matter if Superman has flattened Metropolis - he's the hero, because he won, and that's what matters.

That's the big secret - political operatives who style themselves as partisan James Bonds don't really connect what they do with the failing of democracy.  They associate themselves, their candidate and/or their cause as holy; they need to win, because only they can save us from the other guy, or from ourselves.

It may good for one's ego, this epic framing of partisan demi-gods battling for the hearts and minds of the mere mortals, but it's not true.

First - a mayoralty race is not epic, nor legendary.  Especially in a city like Toronto with a weak-mayor system; our mayor, whoever it is, may get to set the agenda, but they only have one vote.  This has been Rob Ford's greatest challenge - by acting as a parody of tough political leaders and with a staff that's acted as a parody of manipulative political staff, Ford has been his own worst enemy when it comes to implementing his agenda.

Second - Mayoralty isn't about tough leaders with massively comprehensive plans that can be foisted on equally-elected Councilors.    Toronto's Mayor is supposed to be cheer leader for the city, conduit for ideas and morale officer in times of difficulty.  The Mayor isn't supposed to be a demi-god; they're supposed to be a reflection of us.

This is why Rob Ford continues to appeal to many people in Toronto, especially on the margins of society; they don't feel that City Hall reflects them, understands them or even cares about their issues.  The System, be it the police, service providers or even transit doesn't have their interests at heart, but sees them as a virus that plagues the city and needs to be managed down.

Nobody likes to feel like part of the problem.  People want to be part of the solution, always.

This is why I'm not backing any of the big names on the Mayoralty ballot - I don't believe in their approach, I'm disenfranchised with the politics-as-usual games being played by their teams an have yet to feel that any one of them has real empathy for the people of this City.

They're in competition with each other for power, which is a far cry from being advocates for bringing power to the people.

 

We don't want to be witness to destructive battles between egos - we want to be co-designers of our shared future.  We want to build Toronto together.

 

I don't want a Mayor who seems themselves as the light and the way - I want a leader who understands the value of dialogue, facilitation and building consensus.

Show me leadership that inspires, motivates and reminds us that only we, as a community, can make Toronto better, and you'll have both my vote and my support. 

I know many, many others who feel the same way.

 

Not One Man of Steel, But a Society of Strength

"My father believed that if the world found out who I really was, they'd reject me.  He was convinced that the world wasn't ready.  What do you think?"

 

On so many levels, this is brilliant, timely writing.

 

I don't think we would be ready for a Superman in our midst.  We're too fearful of feeling insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 

 

This isn't an issue, though; whether we're waiting for a saviour or not, nobody's going to come down from on high and raise us up. 

 

That's the big secret - we'll only get there on our own, together.

 

Which is why I have to disagree with the writing team on one point - the solution isn't to look at the world as an island.  It's to recognize we're not islands and start bridging the gap.

Waiting For Superman

You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. They'll race behind you. They will stumble. They will fall. But in time, they will join you in the Son. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.

Max Landis, the brilliant writer of Chronicle, has done a hilarious rant about the enduring popularity of Superman.  Landis contends that Superman is boring because, in essence, he's perfect; powerful, wise, compassionate, constant.  He's unrelatable, says Landis, which is why he's not relevant to an audience that wants to see themselves reflected in their heroes.  This logic rings true; none of our heroes are perfect, no legend is without flaws.  The Greek and Norse gods were essentially Dawson's Creek with superpowers; every mythic character from Gilgamesh to King Arthur to Anakin Skywalker had their fatal flaws.  They've either died heroes, or lived long enough to see themselves become villains. 

That's why Game of Thrones makes for such compelling reading/viewing. 

Landis also rips to shreds the chintzy way DC killed Superman off for ratings, then just as quickly brought him back.  Superman didn't change, his world didn't change, the audiences felt ripped off.  The stakes going in seemed so huge, yet there were no consequences.  It didn't ring true; our mythic protagonists, be they of good character or bad, must change the world with their passing.  Whether heroes or villains, these icons must die if they are to be reborn as more than just men, if they are to become legends.  Giants do not walk the earth without leaving footprints.

It has been said that there are no giants any more.  The larger-than-life leaders who shaped entire nations with their great and/or terrible visions have been replaced with technocrats, tweaking away at the margins.  An aversion to risk has replaced boldness; messaging has replaced vision.  We actively tear down our icons, whatever the forum; in an almost Socratic way, we subconsciously seek out and exploit the chinks in their armour.  We mistrust superiority as an oppressive force that, because it must by its inherent nature be flawed, will lead us into temptation.

Yet, locked away in the deep recesses of our hearts lies hope that one day the perfect hero will rise, take our sins onto their shoulders or do away with challengers and show us the way to a better world.  It's one of the great contradictions of humanity; we crave assuredness and unwavering discipline in leaders, but know our leaders are only human and therefore fear the inevitability of their - our -  failure.  We know that when we place our faith in all-too-human unwavering confidence, we inevitably end up disappointed.  This is why we tear our icons to shreds; if they seem too good to be true, they probably are.  It behooves us to deconstruct their perfection and discover those fatal flaws before they are able to harm us.  The only leaders who can bring us to the promise land, truly, must be superhuman.

But there are no Supermen in the real world.  We're waiting for someone who's not coming.

Which is why we love come-back stories.  We feel as though flaws are ingrained into our nature; the only way to grow beyond our faults is by first succumbing to them.  As much as we want to destroy our icons, we draw inspiration when they rise from the ashes/shed the skins of their mistakes; in so doing, they provide us with hope that we too have that power.  Whether you look at religions (accepting original limitation and being reborn) or overcoming "personal weaknesses" (admit you're an alcoholic then strive to be sober) or any form of education (tests, coming-of-age ceremonies, graduation ceremonies, etc.) we have a habit of building rituals around the notion of personal transitions.  We need these moments of personal transcendence to be wrapped in contextualized significance if we're to accept them as having real social meaning.

It's no surprise, then, that we expect our heroes to fall down, spend time delegated to the wilderness and be reborn as role models.  It's through the process of failing that they learn to pick themselves back up and transcend normalcy into exceptionality.  If gifts are not earned, they are not respected and therefore, not to be trusted.

There's a lesson in this, one that we already know but most of the time choose to ignore.  Failure is inevitable; not something to be avoided, denied or trickled down to others, but sought out.  When we cut away (which is different than deny) all the doubt that holds us back and actively challenge ourselves, there's a bit of a multi-faceted hero in each of us.

Which is why the best leaders don't impose from without - they nurture from within. 

RELATED - saw this quote, had to post here: "They are like Superman emerging from the phone booth in times of crisis; their abilities to concentrate and solve problems go up."