A currently popular argument suggests that there are no more heroes in America; that our culture is so consumed by materialism and laziness that heroic action has been rendered obsolete. Adherents to this theory point to the questionable characters that dominate today's headlines and capture the fancy of the public: Dennis Rodman, Larry Flynt and a whacko cult that wanted to jump on the spaceship hidden behind the Hale-Bopp comet. Not exactly Odyssey material.
In an essay entitled "The End of Heroism," Charles Krauthammer suggests that the reason for this dearth of admirable figures is the era of tranquility in which we find ourselves. These times don't demand heroic action, ^ la Kennedy or Lincoln. They demand Bill Clinton. Or so the theory goes.
But this theory has major flaws. Sure, this is a time of relative normalcy both at home and abroad, but is that to say we have no problems that demand visionary men? And yes, the media (and by extension the public) loves the perverse, but that doesn't mean there are no inspirational stories; simply that they aren't as publicized. This discrepancy may reflect poor taste among the citizenry, but not necessarily a lack of heroes.
The reality is that stories of heroism still emanate from all facets of life-from sports, from politics, from entertainment and, most importantly, from the American everyman. And what's more, it doesn't take Columbo to find them.
How about Tiger Woods, the golf phenom who was taking money from 30-year-olds at three years old, and who has brought the traditionally elitist and lily-white game of golf to the average person? His determination and talent, combined with his desire to transcend his profession and make a difference, almost define what a hero should be.
Then there's Colin Powell: The black kid from an impoverished family who worked his way through school, served his country in war and brought compassion and acceptance back to the Republican Party at the '96 convention. This comment, from his speech at that convention, should make doubters of the robusticity of the American Dream blanch: "Even though we were poor, even though we were treated as second class citizens because we were black, we were taught to never give up hope, because in America, justice will eventually prevail."
These are the heroes that make the headlines (albeit behind the Rodman hair-color report); but other heroic actions occur consistently in a less ballyhooed fashion. There was the high-school football player who gave up his senior season to donate one of his kidneys to save his grandmother.
Or even more remarkable, 18-year old Keisha Thomas, a black girl who threw herself over a white man with a confederate flag shirt who was being beaten at a KKK rally in Ann Arbor. When asked about her actions, she responded, "People don't have to remember my name. I just want them to remember that I did the right thing." (People, July 8) If that's not heroism, nothing is.
The stories go on and on. Most people can think of a hero in their own family. You know, the grandfather who fought in World War II, the mother who raised five children by herself, the dad who slaved at his job, but never missed a Little League game. And what about that AT&T "Rocket Man" commercial?
Whether or not these stories outnumber the stories of murders, suicides and dishonesty, I don't know. There's certainly no denying that violence and irresponsibility characterize our times, and it sometimes seems as if the American Dream is slipping further and further away. And the media's obsession with the anti-heroic further obscures the heroism in our midst. For some reason, we have an obsession with the perverse; Maybe its just human nature, or maybe Krauthammer was on to something: maybe the lack of any huge crisis or causes in today's America has created a pervasive ennui that drives us to the eccentric.
But whatever the reason, this focus on the anti-heroic is wearing thin, and people seem again to be searching for heroes. Fortunately, they shouldn't be too hard to find; they've been here all along.
Parker Stanberry is a Trinity sophomore.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.