Where Have All The Heroes Gone?
I haven’t written a blog post in a while. I’ve felt empty, but not defeated, and there’s a difference. Empty feels like something is missing. Defeated feels like the actions no longer serve a purpose. The current political and social climate is undeniably unsettling, but I intend to remain hopeful and thoughtful. With everything shifting so quickly, I found myself wanting to get my bearings again, and that took me back to how I saw the world when I was younger. As I was revisiting my own history, a seemingly simple, and perhaps youthful question kept coming up: where have all the heroes gone?
I grew up in the 60s, right in the middle of the Vietnam war, the civil rights movement, assassinations, the British invasion, and Woodstock. It was a cultural shift you could feel. Everything was moving at once, and there was an atmosphere of urgency and importance. People like Martin Luther King Jr. and John Lewis were principled, clear, and consistent. You didn’t have to guess what they believed.
Politics carried that same distinction. John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy spoke as if the future was something we were stepping into together. They were young and dynamic and brought a new vision of what was possible. Even when you disagreed, there was a sense we were moving forward collectively as a nation.
There was pushback too. War, injustice, nuclear fear, and the loss of dynamic leaders gave us something immediate and historical to react to. Voices like Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin were gritty and willing to challenge the system unapologetically. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was honest. You knew where people stood.
Music was part of that drumbeat too. Phil Ochs and Bob Dylan, on the heels of Woody Guthrie and the beat poets, gave voice to what people were feeling but didn’t yet have words for. It was raw and real. On the other end of the spectrum, the Beatles didn’t just change music, they changed personal identity. Alongside voices like Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem, the culture was expanding. Everything was in motion. There was tension, but also a sense that something crucial was happening.
Looking back, these prominent people felt like heroes. The moment had weight, and it had clear champions. We were not fighting for the eradication of each other, but rather to push and pull on the fabric of our cultural center, which was holding and unfolding at the same time.
Today, we don’t experience as many things collectively. The world is no longer centralized. Everything is scattered. There are still strong voices, but they’re spread and siloed across podcasts, social media, and a hundred different platforms. Kendrick Lamar is the modern-day Dylan; but you have to find him, he doesn’t just show up in front of you. Conversations are self-affirming and circular. The line between influential people and influencers is unclear. Monetizing platforms takes precedent over the truth. Credentials not only matter less but can cast someone as “too boring” or “too institutional to trust”, leaving important conversations in the hands of those that have command of the spotlight. It makes you wonder if it’s even worth trying to cut through all the bullshit.
If you’re willing to stand up for your own values, you’re immediately shouted down by a coalition of people or bots spending their time being anti-whatever-you’re-for. Confirmation bias is the new norm, where judgement is suspended and opinion masquerades as fact. And we still feel those facts when we’re up against an unforgiving force such as a pandemic or a war, but even with those we find a way to feel them less and bend them to our beliefs. Moral clarity is harder to find, making it often smarter to shut your mouth than to argue with someone who won’t shut theirs. The times are spiraling into chaos, and in the words of W. B. Yeats, the centre cannot hold.
So, here’s where I’ve landed after going back to my youth and asking where all the heroes have gone. They’re still here, just harder to find. True leadership is less obvious. The loudest voices are not necessarily the most grounded ones. The ones out front don’t always feel trustworthy. What’s changed is what’s being asked of us. We’re each carrying a piece of the heroic now. So maybe the question was never just where the heroes went. It’s whether we’re willing to be one, in the ways that still matter.
Hurrah!
A heavy, defeating subject delivered in a eloquently light
manner that actually offers hope.
Thank you!
Thanks, Fran! You put it so well. The more hopeful we are, the better!
I think one of the primary distinctions between the heroes of then and now is that we ( citizens) are being called upon to be the heroes or at least to offer some measure of heroism in the face of daily atrocities. We are asked internally and collectively to not be silent and to takes sides publicly and vociferously. Those of us who once found a certain comfort in being able to grasp the longings of any side, now find a middle of the road approach as anarchy against core values. We watch with horror on a daily basis and find mini acts of heroism in turning off the TV or gathering information to remind yourself this isn’t a dream. For me, there is a certain personal heroism in my outrage. It tells me my senses are fully aligned with my beliefs.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Frances. Love how you framed personal heroism as an alignment between your outrage and your values. There are many variations on the theme and it’s important to put them all in the dialogue.
Thank you Larry, beautifully said. In many ways we are being drowned daily in “facts”, innuendo and points of view all over the map from anonymous voices. It gets confusing and sometimes overwhelming. Your take on returning to your formative years and deeply feeling your core beliefs is a great grounding point from which to move ahead with clarity and strength. Somehow we have to minimize the we/they phenomenon and rebirth unity and common purpose. A good start would include fleeing your digital input and taking a walk in the park. We are all fortunate to be citizens of the world and need to embrace that blessing.
Thanks for your comment, Richard. Nature is a healing force and, thankfully, we’re surrounded by it. Taking more time to rebalance is a good place to start.
Thanks Larry for your thoughtful comments, including a wonderful walk through some of our earlier years.
The world in general, and the U.S. in particular, is far more interconnected, technologized, and inclusive today than in the 1950s–1970s, but also more complex, and less equal economically. We now have many more choices, and have benefited from incredible advances in healthcare and lifestyle. Yet with the internet, computers, cell phones, cable TV, social media and AI, has come information overload, anxiety, and isolation; and our differences are more politicized and amplified.
I don’t know if we will ever have heros we can all rally around, as we did in the past. But the question I suggest for consideration is this: is there any period in history you would rather have been alive than the present? My answer is “No”.
Beautiful summary and analysis, Peter! Such a thoughtful question too. Just like the question of which childrearing age did you like better, I liked them all since each preceding one was enfolded into the next one. Some were more challenging, some more intense, some more magical, but all were what created the entirety of the experience. What we sacrifice in age we make up for in wisdom. Similarly, each decade has its own particular identity that makes this one more complete yet contains the seeds of all preceding decades within it. I prospered in ways in the 60’s and 70’s that make how I prosper today possible. Culture grows in the same way, sometimes regressed, sometimes revisiting, and sometimes progressing. I liked all the stages but find this one particularly satisfying and yet maddening at the same time. I wouldn’t change it though, nor would I change the previous ones. I wish we were more aware and more socially conscious but that’s developmental. I’m in for it all. Thanks for the question. I had to think about it for a while.