Who is a hero, and what is heroism?
The subject occurred to me during the O.J. Simpson case in the 1980s, when seemingly every news cast referred to Simpson as “a sports hero.”
I wondered: what is a sports hero?
Is there actually such a thing?
No, it does not. And I’ll tell you why.
Unless the penalty for failure involves death, dismemberment or torture, it is therefore not heroic and needs to be called something else.
Whether Simpson was a double murderer or not, he was never a hero, and neither was any other athlete.
With extremely rare exceptions, the greatest dangers in athletics are non-lethal injuries and not making the playoffs. Especially not making the playoffs.
Yet our culture is so degraded that I found two dictionaries with secondary definitions of hero: “Someone who is well known.”
That is disgusting.
I’ve written two books about the Medal of Honor partly based on a dozen or more recipients among friends and associates. (Sidebar: there is no such thing as “Medal of Honor winner.” Recipients insist, “You don’t win the medal. It’s not a contest.”)
Setting aside the political context of the Medal of Honor, and often other decorations, maybe it’s more instructive to consider the nature of heroism. I’ve come to believe that the defining factor is not merely courage, but time.
Time to think. Time to ponder the consequences.
There’s a huge difference between impulsive courage (“I have two seconds to jump on that grenade”) and reasoned courage (“I’m giving my parachute to a wounded crew mate.”)
Among my friends is John, a retired Oregon sheriff. He ran into a burning house to search for trapped victims and narrowly escaped. Later he said, ‘I didn’t think about it, I just did what I had to do.”
Sometimes courage involves knowledge of the risk.
Examples of enthusiasm versus heroism occurred in the Crimean War of 1853 to 1856 when Britain, France, and the Ottoman Empire fought Russia for control of the peninsula. Afterward, Britain turned a captured Russian cannon into the source of the world’s most prestigious military decoration—the Victoria Cross. The first awards were made in 1857.
In at least two instances, British lieutenants jumped into enemy tranches without looking before they leapt. And in both instances wiser noncoms, knowing the facts, rescued their officers from crowds of Russians. The sergeant and corporal received VCs because they acted despite knowing the severe risk.
During World War I the British Army’s Victoria Cross committee considered more standardized measures. Two recorded sentiments were, “A hero does not save the wounded; he kills the enemy.”
Another: “You have to do a bit of fighting. You have to shoot somebody.”
However, different standards often apply. Of the three recipients of two VCs, two were life-saving medical personnel. And on Iwo Jima in 1945 at least seven Marines justly received the Medal for leaping on grenades to shield their friends.
Yet time after time, objectivity fails.
Immediately after the 9-11 attacks in 2001, it seemed that every U.S. politician within reach of a microphone chanted the unthinking mantra, “cowardly suicide bombers.”
Apparently that industrial-grade oxymoron remained unchallenged, perhaps for fear of appearing “unpatriotic.”
But the Islamic zealots who hijacked three American airliners were as devoted as Japanese pilots 56 years before. In both cases, true believers in their respective causes were willing to sacrifice their lives for their beliefs. The main difference was scale: the 9-11 attacks involved eleven terrorists in one day; in 1944-45 probably more than 3,000 kamikazes perished over ten months.
Heroism also rides with some otherwise unsavory characters. In the Revolutionary War, General Benedict Arnold was renowned for his battlefield courage. He was twice wounded before he turned traitor to the American cause.
Far later, future Reichsmarshal Hermann Goring received the coveted Pour le Merite as a fighter pilot and leader in World War I—one of 81 airmen so honored. About 600 other army and navy officers received the blue plated Maltese cross, from infantry captains and naval lieutenants to field marshals and grand admirals.
Meanwhile, more than 600 Victoria Crosses were awarded during the Great War.
Though ineligible for the “Blue Max” as an enlisted man, another German soldier became even better known. Corporal Adolf Hitler was twice decorated and twice wounded including temporary blindness from mustard gas.
Meanwhile, atitude counts in heroism.
Over Guadalcanal in 1942, when eight Grumman Wildcats clawed for altitude to intercept more than thirty Japanese bombers and fighters, the normal American response likely was, “My gosh! We’re outnumbered!” That was situation normal.
But Captains Joe Foss and Marion Carl plus others saw the same setup and licked their chops. “Look at all those targets!” Skill bred confidence, which re-enforced heroism.
One of the aces’ contemporaries, later a vice admiral, said, “I learned on Guadalcanal that frequently how much courage a man has depends on how much food and sleep he’s had in the last 72 hours.”
The admiral’s comment speaks volumes, spanning the history of human conflict. Context defines the type and extent of heroism. And regrettably, the record shows that physical courage is far more common than the moral variety. Throughout time, men who demonstrated physical courage and valor failed their moral gut check.
Perhaps Aristotle best addressed the subject seventeen centuries ago: “You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor.”
