I have always had a strong affinity for a good action/adventure story. My first books were mostly fantasy tales full of mysterious characters and lofty destinies. As for movies, my favorites ranged from Star Wars to Braveheart. What seemed to unify my picks was a type of mission theme: stories where the outmatched but impassioned "good" stood courageously against the dark and dominating "evil."
Although I knew I should be grateful for the luxurious and relatively stress-free life I had been given, I must admit that I often looked upon these great stories with envy. I dreamed of what it could be like to stand face to face with indisputable evil and stare back with solidified resolve.
And in looking back on these youthful dreams, I am not at all surprised that I was occasionally saddened by my seemingly uneventful life. The fact of the matter remained that there were no invading enemies that threatened to destroy my family-no evil organization striving for world domination.
But my recent experience in Nicaragua over Spring Break made it apparent that suffering is still as rampant as ever-its causes have just become much more diffuse and indirect. People are still being raped, pillaged and impoverished; we just no longer have a clear and obvious perpetrator to blame.
Adding to the problem is that we are not only confused as to who we fight, but also as to why we should fight. In the great epics, the face of the enemy was indeed more clear, but so too were the motives to resist. I would expect that to rise up in arms when one's own life or the lives of one's family are at stake is a nearly unconscious reaction. Responding to the starvation of a distant stranger is much more difficult, and takes a very real and conscious choice.
Lastly, the problems we face appear unfathomably larger within our world of light-speed communications and bustling global transportation. No matter how many drops of service we make, the relative size of our contribution in comparison to the ocean of need leaves our work feeling inadequate at best, and like a complete waste of time at worst.
However, I believe that even though the battle is definitely changing, the opportunity and need for us to fight is as great as ever. It's not that life "can still be a mission if you want it to be." As long as so much of the world's suffering remains preventable and curable, living within this world is to be at war. Our pivotal choice is not to determine if the battle still exists, but if we are still willing to fight.
There might not be a clear enemy to face; this just means focused anger seeking revenge and retribution may no longer be a part of the solution. Our lives and those of our children are not in danger; it might take a much greater sensitivity and awareness to inspire our response. And finally, the problems may be discouragingly massive; this doesn't change the small yet invaluable differences we can still make.
When reflecting on this situation as I got older, I started questioning whether my sheltered, care-free upbringing had truly insulated me from the chance to be a hero like the ones I admired from my favorite stories.
My conclusion: there has never been a greater opportunity.
The shear size and complicated nature of modernity's suffering lead some to believe you can't really make a difference-I would argue that this simply means there will always be more work to be done. Do we consider Leonidas, the commander at the battle of Thermopylae, more or less heroic for standing strong in the face of insurmountable odds?
Dictionary.com, my go-to source for most of my columns, defines a hero as someone who is "extraordinarily bold, altruistic, and determined." Fitting, as one must be bold to act against today's subtle causes, altruistic to be motivated by the distant other and determined to be able to persist against the constant reminder of how much is still left to do.
And in the end, though I very much know that I am living no more heroically than most, it is inspiring to see that the opportunity to follow in the brave footsteps of the heroes of fiction and history stands directly in front of me. The question is whether I will I have the courage to fight.
Mark Stoltenberg is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Wednesday.
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