Tag Archives: marvel

Captain America Hails Hydra: The Aesthetic Identity of a Comics Icon

Unless you’ve been living under a rock or have absolutely no interest in comic books (the latter being more likely), I hate to break it to you, but Captain America is now and has always been an agent of Hydra, the ancient evil organization once tied to the Nazis that he has otherwise fought against for the last fifty of his seventy-five-plus-year history.

Hail Hydra!
Final page reveal from Steve Rogers: Captain America #1 (May 2016)

In interviews, writer (and one-time politician) Nick Spencer — who has become much reviled in the comics community over the past year— has made it clear from the very beginning (Steve Rogers: Captain America #1 (May, 2016)) that comics’ most patriotic hero has not been brainwashed nor is he a doppleganger dispatched by some villain to disrupt the status quo. No, this Captain America is, was, and always has been a member of Hydra. And while the plot may be somewhat complicated (essentially, a sentient Cosmic Cube altered history), the end result is the same: Captain America — while still an idealist — is now a fascist, and the world of Marvel Comics is now victim of his burgeoning secret empire (begun with a book of the same name which debuted in April of 2017).

Over the past year, newspapers and magazines around the world have grappled with the implications of a villainous Cap, while fanboys and average citizens alike have made it known that messing with such an America icon would most certainly have Cap’s creators Joe Simon and Jack Kirby rolling over in their graves.

Cap’s still the same guy that fought the second World War, was thawed from ice in the sixties and eventually become leader of the Avengers, only to take a bullet and die a martyr after Marvel’s first Civil War (of course, no one in comics stays dead). It’s just that writer Nicker Spencer has cast doubt over Cap’s motivations the entire time he was a “hero.”

In the now altered history, Cap became America’s sentinel of liberty with the support of Hydra. Since being thawed from the ice decades ago, he’s had a secret agenda in mind: to gain the trust of the nation — the world even — so that one day his machinations would put him in control of everything from an alien defense shield that encircles the planet to the military / police force that is S.H.I.E.L.D. (think Marvel’s global equivalent to the C.I.A.). What motivates this scheming Captain America? Service to Hydra, and world domination under his leadership. In that regard, Cap believes himself to be a savior of sorts — a man of singular vision who will rule fairly, but with an iron fist. World leaders and superheroes have failed society, this Steve Rogers believes, and humankind will benefit from the order and direction he and his version of Hydra will bring.

He Was the greatest among us...
“He was the greatest among us…”

Some have said that Spencer has tapped into the cultural zeitgeist of right-wing politics and populism that has risen of late in the western world. That said, the first issue of the series debuted in May of 2016, long before Trump was elected president, Britain planned to leave the European Union and elections throughout Europe became the platforms for debate about nationalism, safety, and the rule of law.


Is this new Captain America a symbol for such movements? Curiously, the right has rejected a fascist Cap, seeing in him the worst of liberal attempts to tear down patriotism and demonize law and order. The left, too, responds with rancor as a symbol to them of a more tolerant democratic ideal has been corrupted.


The issue raises questions of a fictional character’s nature and how he or she can become different things to different people at different points in history. Aesthetic identity — insofar as a fictional character can be said to have an identity (which makes for sticky metaphysics) — can support the argument that there can be an alignment of the cultural and the artistic to a point where art (even comic art!) can become “ours” or “theirs” — positioning an icon like Captain America as being in the service of special interests at any given point in time.

Time. It’s essential to the discussion of a fictional character with longevity. In the hands of different writers and artists over time, does a fictional character need to have a persistent identity over that stretch of time to continue being that character? To theorists, this state of being is called endurantism — where an individual is wholly present at every moment of its existence. Or can that character  have distinct temporal parts to its existence — called pedurantism — and thus not be tied to continuity of existence?

Some philosophers would raise the “Ship of Theseus” debate at this point. And while that might take us far afield, give me a paragraph to explain. It goes like this: if a ship exists in one form at one time and is then taken apart plank by plank and re-assembled at a later time with pieces re-arranged for revised purpose, is it the same ship anymore? The general principle could be applied to this fascist Captain America. Remember, he’s not brainwashed nor is he a doppleganger. He is still Steve Rogers. More so, he has always been Steve Rogers AND a child raised and heavily influenced by Hydra. While in the hands of the Allies in the second world war, the Cosmic Cube once masked the true nature of Cap as a servant of Hydra. He was made to be a hero in what ironically turned out to be the actual alternate reality. When the cosmic cube revealed Steve Rogers’ “true” nature as an agent of Hydra all along, it was actually returning reality to how it should have been (the original Ship of Theseus). Was the re-assembled ship also Steve Rogers? To those adhering to pedurance theory, the answer is yes. His identity is tied to distinct temporal parts throughout the character’s existence. It can therefore be said that while Hydra Cap is the same (fictional) person, his identity is dependent on the Cap that he is at any given point in time. Identity is not fixed.

To a lesser extent, we’ve seen iconic characters change radically before at distinct temporal points. Sherlock Holmes has been a twenty-something genius in the nineteenth century, a middle-aged cocaine addict in the twentieth, and an unkempt eccentric of indeterminate age in the twenty-first. Batman has been both a level-headed and lauded superhero with a clear sense of justice, but also a reviled vigilante with possible mental illness.

In the end, who is Steve Rogers? In and of itself, that question presupposes that there is an end (and a single Steve Rogers). For characters like Cap who have been developed and modified over time by countless writers and artists, there will never be an end. Only slices of time in which that character exists. To complicate the matter, one could argue that every comic one reads, regardless of when it was written, is happening as it is read. Fixed points in time all happen at once to the mind.

Of course, Captain America as agent of Hydra could be nothing more than a marketing ploy — a none-too-clever way to sell more comic books. The alternative, however, has more than risk for the company of possible stagnant sales. It has the permanence that a character can never change — or perhaps more important, be challenged with change (even for the worse) and find their way back to redemption.

After Secret Empire comes to an end, let’s hope that the cosmic cube which started this whole mess doesn’t simply alter reality once again *, for it would be interesting to see one of America’s most enduring symbols find his way out of the darkness to do what heroes do best — fight against injustice regardless of cultural tides. To exist as different beings over time but retain their heroic traits no matter how misguided they may be. To transcend aesthetic identity and approach what every creator hopes for a character: a life beyond the pages.

Yes, Steve Rogers is fictional. And yes, we’re talking about comic books. But we’re also addressing core beliefs that human beings are capable of significant change over time, and that character is a trait as well as a fiction.

And to the architect of this tale, Nick Spencer, a special message: we’re counting on you to define who Captain America is, was and will be for generations to come.

Don’t blow it.

August 26, 2017: Oh well. SPOILER. Deus Ex Machina. Kobik, the sentient cosmic cube, restored the status quo. The “real” Steve Rogers returns, and in a punch-up all too typical for comics, beats the crap out of Fascist Cap. What remains to be seen in Marvel’s “Legacy” is if this returned Captain America can regain the trust of the nation.

If only real life could be this simple.

Dawn of Justice in The Age of Cynicism

With the the recently released extended version of Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice, a hotly contested debate will undoubtedly continue — not only involving the merits of this almost universally panned production but also the believability of Batman truly being able to take on Superman.

It’s an age-old question. Brains vs. brawn. Or is it?

BATMAN: TDKR #4 (1986)
BATMAN: TDKR #4 (1986)

The idea that Batman and Superman could be such bitter rivals was introduced in the modern age, courtesy of Frank Miller and his groundbreaking Dark Knight Returns. There, Superman is a tool of the government, sent to put down the once retired now revitalized thorn-in-the-side of the powers that be. It’s a comic book world born of the cynical nineteen eighties and a time when superhero fiction was at a critical crossroads of cultural legitimacy.

Using his advantage of time and “considerable fortune,” Batman of TDKR develops armor and an arsenal of weapons — including a synthesized form of the mcguffin known as kryptonite — to make the Man of Steel bleed. It’s a short-lived battle, but it makes its point. Superman is not invulnerable. But what is  the true nature of his vulnerability?

Superman #76 (1952)
Superman #76 (1952)

In the Golden Age of comics, DC’s finest heroes were the best of friends. Having officially first met (outside of the Justice League) in Superman #76 (1952), there was friction between the two, but it was over harmless flirtations with Lois Lane. Like the Golden Age itself, there was innocence. Comics were for kids and kids at heart.

Throughout the Silver Age, the relationship between Batman and Superman became almost comical with “The World’s Finest” team swapping everything from villains to powers, finding Batman get superpowers of his own or (stranger still) get taken over by an alien just to keep up with Superman. Mercifully, the “World’s Finest” comic was finally canceled in the mid eighties as the plots became more and more peculiar. just in time for Miller’s alternate history / future, and John Byrne’s seminal Man of Steel mini-series reboot — both in 1986.

Man of Steel #3 (1986)
Man of Steel #3 (1986)

It was in issue three of the latter series that we get the first hint of distrust between the two characters in the mainstream (rebooted) DC universe. Superman makes it clear to Batman that he could whisk the caped crusader to a cell in the blink of an eye when Batman retorts that were Superman to touch him, a (magnetic?) field surrounding his body would trigger a bomb somewhere in Gotham, killing an innocent person. It’s the first tense moment between the two in regular continuity. Of course, Batman doesn’t tell the Man of Steel on whom the bomb is planted: it is Batman himself!

Batman’s machinations reveal, to no one’s surprise, a dark side to the hero — one that would be crystalized almost two decades later by Jeph Loeb in his critically acclaimed HUSH storyline:

“If Clark wanted to, he could use his super speed and squish me into the cement. But I know how he thinks. Even more than the Kryptonite, he’s got one big weakness. Deep down, Clark’s essentially a good person… and deep down, I’m not.” — Batman: HUSH #612 (2003)

“Deep down, I’m not [a good person.” Batman’s awareness of self is at the same time sad and empowering. As such, it begs a number of questions.

Wherein lies true power? And what is more heroic? Having the willingness to do whatever it takes? Possessing the restraint that keeps one from abusing power? Knowing one’s true self? Or is it something more sinister.

The lines between the heroes begin to blur. Just as each once stood for the innocence of caped abandon (in a Golden Age that still exists for every child on a playground), each hero also faces the moral consequences of action and inaction. Historically (at least in the comics), Superman has maintained that core of innocence and desire to forever be the “good” man raised by his adoptive parents. Conversely, Batman has been the morally grey divided self striving to do good in a world where he learned early on from the brutal murder of his parents one thing: that the world is essentially a bad place.

Does that ultimately drive Batman to madness? Writers of both the comics and pop culture commentaries have certainly questioned his state of mind (see, for example What’s the Matter with Batman?). Does Bruce Wayne fit the schizoid personality profile defined in Dr. R. Laing’s seminal,  existential nineteen-sixties study The Divided Self? The problem with such attempts to analyze Batman is that it assumes Batman does not nor can ever rise above his childhood trauma. Superman, on the other hand, grows up with love, support and a strong moral compass. Does love, then, as poets and preachers would have us believe, conquer all?

Director Zack Snyder hints at, but ultimately abandons this dichotomy of underlying philosophies and mental health in favor of making both characters world-weary and guilt-ridden. When we debate the murkiness of character(s) evident in Zack Snyder’s ambitious but ultimately flawed film, the issue of what it means to be a hero and whether or not the better man wins may come down to more than the result of the film’s titular main event (it certainly comes down to more than [spoiler alert!] the invocation of the name Martha!!!!!). It comes down to which man is more (or less) damaged. And that does a disservice to both characters.

Dawn of Justice (2016)
Dawn of Justice (2016)

In the end, it just may be that the “dawn of justice” is the moment when it’s made clear that all heroes have flaws. That moral absolutes are tough to come by in this day and age. And that, for our heroes to resonate at all with a modern audience, they have to be as conflicted as we are.