The Real World Problem

The failure, inability, or refusal of superhero characters to address systemic injustice can be (and has been) interpreted as a political bias.  On the whole, revolutionary firebrands do not find jobs at Marvel and DC, two publishers that, in addition to the usual financial self-interest one expects from any company in a capitalist system, have become firmly implanted in the corporate world over the course of their existence.  Though colloquially known as DC Comics since the 1940s, National Comics Publications only officially adopted the name in 1977, a decade after its parent company was purchased by Warner Bros.-Seven Arts. The March 1989 Warner merger with Time Inc. meant that DC became a subsidiary of Time-Warner, and for a a brief and perplexing period, AOL (2001-2003).  But throughout all its parent company's permutations, the reality is that DC has been under the Warner umbrella since 1967.

When Marvel publisher Bill Jemas ham-handedly attempted to revive the storied DC/Marvel rivalry in 2001, he called DC "AOL Comics." The slur never took off, no matter how much of his own corporate might Jemas put behind it (in 2002, he wrote Marville, widely considered one of the worst comics ever made; it began as a Superman parody with Ted Turner and Jane Fonda in the 51 century sending their son Kal-AOL back in time). But Jemas was living in a glass house. Marvel had gone through a series of corporate owners during the same period (the Perfect Film and Chemical Corporation, Cadence Industries, New World Entertainment, and, most disastrously, Ron Perleman's company MacAndrews and Forbes).  That last takeover ended in bankruptcy and the eventual purchase by Toy Biz, which formed Marvel Enterprises and hired...Bill Jemas. Since 2009, Marvel has been owned by the Walt Disney Company. 

I, for one, welcome our new corporate overlords

Clearly, then, neither DC nor Marvel are likely to become the comics publishing equivalent of the Weather Underground or Occupy Wall Street.  They are Wall Street, as well as Hollywood; Stan Lee was always desperate for Marvel to become a film powerhouse (which, as part of Disney, it now is), although it is DC that moved its headquarters to Burbank in 2015. But corporate self-interest is not the only (or even, I believe, the primary) reason for the inherent conservatism of Marvel and DC. The real problem is the rest of the world.

Even before Stan Lee insisted that Marvel superheroes live in New York rather than a made up analogue (such as Metropolis or Gotham), superhero comics had a complicated relationship with the world that produced them.  Obviously, New York has never been home to wall-crawling vigilantes, thunder gods, and mutants; and even if there were a city named Metropolis, it would not have been protected by a super-powered Kryptonian. But for the most part, the world of the comic book superhero had to resemble our world; indeed, one of the thrills of the superhero genre is imagining these powerful men and women coexisting with ordinary mortals like the readers.  In his first adventure, Superman stops a man from beating his wife and barges into the governor's mansion to prevent the execution of an innocent man.  The crimes and situations are familiar; the only truly fantastic element is Superman himself.

Superman was created in 1938, inaugurating a vogue for superheroes just one year before the Nazi invasion of Poland and three years before the United States entered World War II.  Now the real world itself looked different, dangerous, and incomprehensible.  Could this be a job for Superman?

Next: Why Superheroes Didn't End World War II