In this journey, the hero crosses the threshold into some sort of underworld as he gathers friends to aid him in his goal and is tested by higher powers (the gods, for example). In the midst of this scary and unfamiliar place (Hades, the Death Star, Mordor, or whatever), he finally succeeds in completing the task that he set out to do at the beginning of his heroic journey, and can finally return home to his world, where he is usually able to add something to his society learned or obtained through his journey.
In real life, the formation of a hero can't be as cut and dry. Nobody I know has made a quick trip through Hades to return after several years to kill off 100 suitors and reclaim his throne. And nobody that I know has killed his father in a lightsaber duel and blown up the Death Star with the help of a little green Muppet.
In the ideal world of literature, all of the points of the heroic cycle help reveal the hero's character and emphasize his change. Real-life heroes don't usually adhere so closely to Campbell's ideal mold of the tragic hero. If a single mother doesn't acquire helpers like Athena or R2-D2 on her journey to raise her kid, I'd still call her a hero (just somewhat less interesting of a hero for it). In defining a real-life hero, I break the heroic circle into what I see to be its two main elements.
I define a hero as anyone who meets two criteria: (1) the person was challenged by a dire conflict, and (2) the person reacted to the conflict by doing his or her best to remedy the situation.
My definition of a hero fits all of the Odysseus's and Aeneas's of classical literature, the Luke Skywalker's and Superman's of the movies, and the courageous firemen and sang-froid single mothers of society.
My definition does not discriminate based on gender, and I hold both males and females to be real-world heroes. However, while the real world has many every-day heroines (the most noteworthy being Ms. Kimball), the literary and movie worlds are lacking in this regard. Queen Penelope and Princess Leia are heroines, but their heroic roles were eclipsed by the macho-man heroes like Odysseus and Luke Skywalker.This inequality is due in part to the relative abundance of male writers (or movie producers) as compared to their female counterparts, and males generally tend to feel more comfortable featuring their own sex in their writing. Plus, even if a male writer had written an epic about a female warrior's adventures, wouldn't that have seemed a little unrealistic to ancient peoples? A female warrior? And from the standpoint of a physical journey, what ancient woman's story could rival that of a soldier fighting to conquer Troy? Campbell's model of the classical heroic journey would have to be stretched into a metaphor so as to feature a strong housewife as a hero. Plus, if the people of a society don't view women as heroes but instead define heroes to be strong and brave in battle, then wouldn't some rogue male writer be out of business and out of an audience if he tried to create an independent heroine? I'm not sure that I could blame Homer for featuring Odysseus and pushing Penelope off to the side.
A few millenia ago, female writers didn't exist to write about female heroes. Not until relatively recently in the history of the world have women gained prominence as writers, but their works are helping to tip the gender scales back toward equal. Also, now that women are portrayed in our society as more equal to men, some female heroines have been glorified in the same way that males traditionally have (Wonder Woman, Elizabeth Bennett, and heroines from modern-day novels written by both men and women).
Although our definition of heroes has been expanded since ancient times, the purpose of a hero remains the same. Heroes serve as examples. We look up to heroes and try to emulate them—to be them, even. I would be happy to be half as fair and righteous as Atticus Finch of Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird or half as introspectively capable as Marlow from Jospeh Conrad's Heart of Darkness. In literature and in real life, heroes present to the reader a standard of how to live and the inspiration that if he lives that way, he will ultimately have as much meaning in his life as he perceives that his hero does. Although people may not realize it, everyone has heroes that they admire. We need heroes in society to give us something to strive for, an example of how to live.
But what happens when the good guys aren't good anymore? In literature, heroes often suffer from a hamartia that leads to their ruin. For example, Macbeth is a tragic hero whose "vaulting ambition" was the hamartia that drove him to regicide (he wasn't such a great role-model for the youngans after that). Even Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker followed the heroic cycle away from the Force and to the Dark Side, before finally emerging from his journey to redeem himself at the end of the saga.In Bertolt Brecht's The Life of Galileo, an exchange occurs between a student of Galileo and the astronomer himself, his scientific research suppressed by the oppressive Catholic regimes of the Inquisition:
Andrea: Unhappy the land that has no heroes.Given Brecht's life and times during the rise of Fascism and Naziism, he is most likely using the term "hero" to refer to an oppressor who misrepresents himself to be a heroic savior — a Hitler, a Mussolini, a Stalin (indeed, unhappy is the land that looks to those sorts of people to save it). However, Brecht makes an important point about heroes. While having heroes is important so that people have models to emulate and figures to inspire them, a man must never hand over full control of his life to one person whom he believes to be a hero or a savior, no matter how tempting the opportunity may be. Unlike the usual every-day heroes like one's parents or teachers, popular heroes may misrepresent themselves to garner influence over those who look up to them. Sometimes, those whom we look up to as heroes are corrupted by the power imbued upon them by their heroic status.
Galileo: No. Unhappy the land that needs heroes.
As the impressionable youths that we Humanities students are, our minds like sponges ready to soak up whatever seeps through the cracks of our thick skulls, it's important to take this hero thing in moderation. Ferris Beuller may be one of my personal heroes, but I shouldn't regard him as my personal savior and embrace his entire lifestyle. When choosing heroes, be prudent not to try to incorporate a hero's whole persona into yours. Instead, view your heroes like an all-you-can-eat buffet: take a little from here, and a little from there.
