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The new Spider-Man movie is out just in time for holiday entertainment and has been getting rave reviews. It’s a fitting ending to a year that has been dominated by vigilantism. Superhero movies have been immensely popular for years and can be great fun -- I’m partial to the Michael Keaton/Jack Nicholson “Batman,” myself -- but not just because they’re exciting. They’re also easy: This guy is the good guy, this guy is the bad guy. We want good to win, and we’re supposed to identify with the good guy and cheer him on. Although superheroes typically employ superpowers or advanced technology instead of guns, their battles exemplify the saying, “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.” The weapon itself is not good or bad; the person holding it is.
A year of high-profile trials involving vigilantism has demonstrated how simplistic and dangerous that notion is. Assigning “badness” and “goodness” to people instead of an action both deifies the “good” person and dehumanizes the “bad” one. Once the target of “justice” is the incarnation of evil instead of a human being, the self-appointed hero can feel his actions are not only justified but a service to the public.
On Jan. 6, for example, all credible evidence showed that the election was not stolen and that the beaten, pepper-sprayed, tased and crushed police officers were not traitors to the country. Despite this, as the mob surrounded, beat and tased Officer Michael Fanone, only his shouts of, “I’ve got kids!” caused those prepared to kill him for his nonexistent crime to recognize his humanity.
In the case of Ahmaud Arbery, his killers so dehumanized him that they didn’t really care about the particulars of the justification. Somehow, he deserved it: He looked like the person who had been stealing from a construction site, he didn’t respond obediently and submissively when confronted by three armed strangers or, as the defense attorney felt the need to point out, he had long, dirty toenails.
Kyle Rittenhouse claimed self-defense when he killed two men and wounded another in the riotous Kenosha protests, where all parties seem to agree there was mass confusion as to who was an aggressor. He has nevertheless been lauded in far-right circles, where Officer Fanone’s dismissal or outright mockery belies the claim that the lionization of Rittenhouse is due to a respect for “law and order.” It instead points to satisfaction that “bad people” are dead: One host went so far as to congratulate him for killing two “of the worst on the planet.” Rittenhouse showed more maturity and respect, saying it was nothing to be congratulated about and that he wished he hadn’t killed anyone.
Too often, we ask, “What did they do to deserve it?” Rather than asking what they deserved, the real question is, what gives another human being the right to mete out justice as the sole and all-powerful judge, jury and executioner?
The only answer is: nothing. Human beings are not good or bad; they only do good or bad things. Before we laud “heroes” who would inflict violence on someone for his wrongs, suspected or real, we and they should remember the wisdom from Spider-Man: With great power comes great responsibility. It’s irresponsible, to say the least, for a person to declare himself all-knowing and the decider of who deserves to live and die. “Punishing” someone with deadly force is a decision that cannot be reversed, and the actions of a “hero” may turn out to be the ones that are tragically villainous.
Kara Sorbel lives and works in Anchorage with her family.
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