We’ve had a lot of interesting comments on the race and comics roundtable, some of which point in similar directions — so rather than going through and saying the same thing over and over, I thought I’d try to hit some main points in this post.

So to start with, I thought I’d address a point Uland brought up:

lso, we live in a Western Republic, founded by Europeans and still majority European ( not for long, I know). That entertainment and art follow, I don’t think we should be surprised by.

It’s not like we’re willing to go to Ireland and demand that they adapt the way they tell stories to make Eastern European immigrants feel more culturally powerful than they are.

This is more or less, I think, a variation on Pat Buchanan’s, “Traditional Americans Are Losing Their Nation, (though without the apocalyptic vision and the implicit clal to arms that makes Buchanan’s stance here truly execrable.) Basically, the argument is that we, as a nation, are white; that’s our cultural heritage, our true American European self, and so it’s natural to focus on that. Other traditions, or people, are extraneous to who we really are.

Andrew Sullivan had a fine rebuttal of this position:

From its very beginning, after all, America was a profoundly black country as well.
This took a while for an Englishman to grasp upon arriving here, because it’s so easy to carry with you all the subconscious cultural baggage you grew up with. England, after all, is deeply Anglo-Saxon. It makes some sense to refer to England’s roots and ethnic identity as white, its language as English, its inheritance as a deep mixture of Northern European peoples – the Angles and the Saxons and the Normans and the Celts. And superficially, English-speaking white Americans might seem in the same cultural boat as white English people, dealing with a relatively new multiculturalism in an increasingly diverse and multi-racial society. And at first blush, you almost sink into that lazy and stupid assumption, especially if you arrive in Boston, as I did, and carried all the usual European prejudices, as I did.
The English, lulled by their marination in American pop culture from infancy, and beguiled by the same language, can live out their days in this country never actually noting that it is an alien land – stranger than you might have ever imagined, crueler than you realized, but somehow also more inspiring than you ever thought possible. This is the America I am trying to make my home, after 25 years. It is not the America of Pat Buchanan’s or John Derbyshire’s fantasies.
It struck me almost at once, if only in the music I heard all around me – and then in so many other linguistic, cultural, rhetorical, spiritual ways: white Americans do not realize how black they are. Even their whiteness is partly scavenged from the fear of – and attraction to – its opposite. Even something as stereotypically white as American Catholicism, I discovered to my amazement, was also black from the very start. (Yes, those Maryland slaves. If you’ve never been to a Gospel Mass in an ancient black Catholic parish, try it some time.)

And it’s not just that America’s black. America’s also Amerindian. And, of course, and very much so when you’re talking about comics, Jewish. In short, America is it’s own culture — and what’s most distinctly American about it is its syncretism. There’s nobody more American, as just one example, than Rosa Parks. Hers is a tale of the plucky salt of the earth overcoming the unjust vagaries of the fascist state. What’s more American than that?

So the plea for comics to stop being so unutterably, lamely pale isn’t a plea for them to be less American. It’s a suggestion that they be *more* American.

So why does it matter if comics are more American. Who cares? Uland puts it this way:

I know black comic fans. They’re nerds, just like a lot of white fans. I think to suggest to them that they require a black superhero, or a black creator to feel some kind of connection to that material is pretty insulting, and it’s just not evident. You can’t say that if comics were more minority friendly, more minorities would be involved. By that logic, white people, as a rule would be far more interested in comics than they are. They’re not. Comics are for children, slightly fucked up adults, or slightly pretentious fucked up adults.

Ed Howard comes at it from a different place, but arrives at a similar conclusion:

Modern superhero comics, with few enough exceptions, are pretty dismal affairs that don’t really address anything of substance, and where any kind of risk-taking or experimentation is pretty soundly discouraged, for all sorts of economic reasons. Why should race be any different? I mean, if we’re talking about Supergirl, as the last post in this roundtable did, doesn’t a book like that have broader limitations and failings than just the failure to represent ethnic diversity properly? It’s rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

For both Uland and Ed, comics are essentially debased and irrelevant. Talking about race is therefore pointless, because only a select few fucked up individuals are going to read them anyway.

But…if everyone agrees that mainstream comics are an (ahem) ghetto of mediocrity…how did that happen? Why are they like that?

Let’s take a brief detour, and talk about another extremely white genre — country music. It’s not a secret especially why country is largely white. It’s because of systematic racism and segregation in the early part of the 20th century, when the genre was formed — and of the split between hillbilly and race records which was explicitly segregationist. It’s persisted because of genre coherence, white populism, and (I presume) black alienation because of white populism. It isn’t about dictats handed down from on high, necessarily, but it is about racism, and a history of racism.

Now, even though country was born out of segregation, it wasn’t actually European. It’s roots were as much in the blues and jazz as in Irish or European folk song, and even it’s instrumentation and vocal styles (from the banjo to Jimmie Rodgers) were integrated. And that’s where a lot of the genre’s energy came from; form a mixing of white and black styles which produced western swing and bluegrass and hillbilly boogie and rockabilly. After rock took over most of the syncretic energy of white pop, though, country kind of flailed, turning more and more to nostalgia, unable to assimilate the changes in black music (like rap) that were leading the way for pop. And as a result you got a lot of really shitty music (country is kind of trying in various ways now to make peace with black pop, and I think country radio is more listenable at the moment than it’s been in some time.)

The point of all that, I’d argue, at least, is that comics aren’t so insular that any discussion of race is irrelevant. Rather, they’re insular because they have, for a really long time now, more or less deliberately cut themselves off from vast swathes of audience and inspiration.

Steven Grant in his contribution to the roundtable says:

white male heroes must be heroic at all times. I never got that pressure when writing minority or female characters; they were “allowed” (mainly by lower editorial expectations, I think) to make more human decisions for more human reasons. It wasn’t that editors were either specifically racist or felt those characters should have greater emotional latitude.

Steven’s point is that expectation are lower for non-white characters, which is no doubt true. But I wonder if part of what he was experiencing was also just the kind of opening up of possibilities you can get when you start having conversations or interactions with other folks. Writing about somebody who is not all white all the time isn’t a big step, but it is a step towards the kind of cultural interplay that gave us bluegrass, and jazz, and fusion, and graffitti, and blaxploitation, and manga, and, for that matter, in many ways, Superman. That’s where the most exciting American creative endeavors have come from, always.

In this sense, Uland is precisely and staggeringly wrong when he claims that if people liked their own culture best, then there would be more white people reading comics. On the contrary, white Americans don’t read comics because *it’s not their culture.* It’s too white; it’s too boring; it’s too irrelevant and male and stodgy. White Americans, like all Americans, prefer things like, oh, say, pop music or rap music — art that mixes and matches influences and perspectives in exciting ways; that uses that mixing as a spur to the imagination.

In short, comics appeal to nobody and are irrelevant because they appeal to nobody, and are irrelevant. They sit there staring at their navels, and, as a result, the only folks who want to engage with them are people who want to sit around staring at their navels. This isn’t a problem for the culture at large — it’s not a “oh, no, comics are racist — it’s unjust!” On the contrary, it’s a problem *for comics.* When Vom Marlowe talks about being turned off by the blinding paleness of mainstream comics, she’s not talking as a member of the PC police, spoiling everyone’s fun. She’s talking as *a potential fan*, someone who has an interest in the medium and who feels excluded because the world she lives in and cares about and likes to interact with is being gratuitously ignored. And you know what? Most people feel like that, which is why comics are continuing their ongoing downward spiral into ever more pointlessly insular clusterfuckery.

Superheroes solve problems by hitting them very hard. This strategy works will enough when they’re fighting mad scientists, robots, or radioactive dinosaurs, but it doesn’t seem particularly well-suited for persistent social ills like racism. How are superheroes supposed to deal with a problem that has no specific face to punch? The answer, of course, is to give racism a face.

By the 1960s, the Civil Rights Movement had gained a great deal of political and social influence, but racism was still widespread. With so much national attention focused on race relations, it was only a matter of time before Marvel attempted to address the issue within the pages of its superhero books. Marvel had prided itself on publishing the superhero stories of “our” universe, completely unlike the silly, fantastical universe of DC Comics. And since many of the staffers and creators at Marvel were Jewish guys from New York City, it’s not surprising that they were firmly in favor of racial equality.

The first Marvel comic that specifically dealt with racism was Fantastic Four #21 (1963). Co-written by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, this story pitted the FF against the ruthless Hate-Monger!

It’s not a bad costume for a racist: there’s the KKK pointed hood, some chain-mail (racists love references to the Teutonic Knights), a torch for lighting crosses, and a gun for shooting minorities. All set! The story begins with the FF up to their usual hijinks, but their fun is interrupted by the Thing who’s pissed that a mysterious figure known as the Hate-Monger is stirring up racial tension in New York City. Invisible Girl doesn’t think the FF should get involved because she’s a selfish jerk who’s never heard of Martin Niemöller. But she gets overruled by the boys and off they go to confront the Hate-Monger, currently mongering hate in Manhattan.

Racist he may be, but you have to admit he puts on an elaborate outdoor performance. The crowd is instantly swayed by his words, and they begin to attack nearby foreigners, though given the limitations of Kirby’s style, I’m not quite sure how they can tell this guy is a foreigner.

Maybe only foreigners wear bright blue suits? When the FF intervenes, the Hate-Monger blasts them with his Hate Ray, which causes them to start fighting amongst themselves. Apparently, hate isn’t so much a product of a bad upbringing as a product of evil science. The Hate-Monger plans to keep the FF busy with their in-fighting while he foments an anti-American revolution in the made-up country of San Gusto.

Obviously, anti-Americanism has to the be the product of vile evil-doers using Hate Rays. It couldn’t possibly be blowback from years of American interventionism. Speaking of which, Colonel Nick Fury comes up with a convoluted scheme to get the Fantastic Four to San Gusto so they can crush this hateful uprising. After beating on the rebels for a bit, Mr. Fantastic stumbles upon the Hate-Monger’s base and figures out the bad guy’s master plan (it involves bouncing hate beams off the moon. Yes, really.) and then he cures himself and his teammates with anti-hate pills (Yes, really). Then the FF and Nick Fury kick the crap out of the Hate-Monger’s stormtroopers. When the Hate-Monger tries to use his Hate Ray, the Invisible Girl forces him to blast his own men, who immediately shoot him dead. Poetic justice strikes again! But there’s one last question to answer: who is the Hate-Monger?

So let’s recap: Adolph Hitler survived World War II, reinvented himself as a super-villain named the Hate-Monger, and used his Hate Ray to start an anti-American revolution in a banana republic so he could use that country as a base to beam hate to the rest of the world. And by killing Hitler, the Fantastic Four solved the problem of racism … for three years.

Marvel dealt with the issue of race relations again in Avengers #32-33 (1966), by Stan Lee and Don Heck. The story begins with a hate group called the Sons of the Serpent, an obvious send-up of the KKK, viciously attacking a foreigner in a dark alley. And because I read Fantastic Four #21 first, I know that this man is a foreigner because he wears a tacky suit.

Meanwhile, Goliath has increased his size to ten feet tall but he’s now stuck at that height. Needless to say, this makes relations with his girlfriend the Wasp somewhat difficult. After several pages of whiny self-pity someone gets the bright idea to call another scientist to see if he can help. And so Dr. Bill Foster is introduced to the Marvel readership, and he’s black! At first, I thought it was cool that Marvel would introduce a black scientist and not comment on his race, but a few pages later that’s exactly what they do. While walking home from Goliath’s laboratory, Dr. Foster is ambushed and beaten up by the Sons of the Serpent. This leads to the obligatory righteous indignation from the hero. The dramatic pause before announcing the name of his team is a nice touch.

After sending Bill Foster home, Goliath meets up with the Avengers and they decide to investigate the Sons. At the same time, the sinister General Chen from an unnamed country that’s clearly China is arriving in New York, where he plans to give a speech at the United Nations. Issue 32 wraps up with Captain America captured by the Sons of the Serpent.

On a side note, some of you may have heard of a certain comics blogger, who shall go unnamed, with this crazy notion that old superhero comics were kinda queer. But I dare him to find anything homoerotic about the opening splash page of Avengers #33!

Okay, so maybe Captain America is pinned spread-eagle against a wall while a serpent-themed villain gloats with orgasmic glee while holding a phallic-shaped object. But other than that, where’s the gay?

With Cap as a hostage, the Sons of the Serpent plan to force the Avengers to speak out in their favor, knowing that the fickle public will immediately do whatever C-list heroes tell them to do. Meanwhile, the inscrutable General Chen plans to use the activities of the Sons to discredit the United States at the UN.

Note that the American diplomats are not so much concerned with the actual crimes of the Sons as they are with the fact that the crimes make the U.S. look bad to the rest of the world (over a decade earlier, the Justice Department expressed similar worries when it submitted an amicus brief to the Supreme Court when it was considering Brown vs. Board of Education of Topeka. The brief cited a statement by then Secretary of State Dean Acheson, who asserted that racial discrimination “gives unfriendly governments the most effective kind of ammunition for their propaganda warfare, … and jeopardizes the effective maintenance of our moral leadership of the free and democratic nations of the world.)” (The full amicus brief can be found here).

Getting back to the story, Goliath and the Wasp arrive at the big press conference where they’re supposed to offer allegiance to the Sons, but they stall for time while fellow Avenger Hawkeye goes to rescue Captain America. The story gets a bit wonky for a bit, but it eventually ends with the Avengers beating the crap out of the Sons and capturing their leader. And who is the leader of America’s worst hate group? It’s the nefarious General Chen!

So the Chinese are to blame! Some of you may be thinking that it’s nonsensical to blame Asians for the racial conflict between whites and blacks, but you’re forgetting that the Chinese are Communists. That means they’re bad.

After reading these two stories back-to-back, I noticed three common factors in how they approached racial conflict. The first is that they are exclusively concerned with how progressive white men respond to violent racism. After all, both the Fantastic Four and the Avengers are composed entirely of white guys with one token girl apiece. The only notable minority character is Bill Foster, but he’s little more than a Noble Black Men who gets assaulted, thus providing a motive for the Avengers to get involved. The comics also draw an unambiguous distinction between the law-abiding, racially tolerant (white) heroes and the racist villains.

Both stories also portray the source of American racism as foreign. In Fantastic Four, racist violence is sparked by none other than Adolph freakin’ Hitler. In Avengers, a general from Red China foments racism to make America look bad. This leads naturally to the conclusion that racism itself is foreign to America. Now I’m sure that Stan Lee and friends were well aware that racism existed in the U.S. long before Hitler or Red China came along. But it’s not a part of what they portray as the “real” America. To put it differently, as a rule America is tolerant and equal; racism must be an exception to this rule because it’s inherently un-American.

Another factor in both stories is that crowds display racist behavior only after they’ve been influenced by external forces. In Avengers, the Sons of the Serpent attempt to sway the public through a popular superhero team. In Fantastic Four, the external manipulation is technological. There’s an implicit rejection of the argument that racism can arise from ideas held by the majority. Instead, the public in Marvel America is fairly tolerant unless a foreign group manipulates them. This reinforces the idea that racism is alien to American society.

To sum up, these comics create a dichotomy between the majority of white Americans, who are tolerant and law-abiding under normal circumstances, and a minority of violent racists. The white superheroes, in particular, embody the highest values of America. The racists are fringe extremists, linked with hostile nations and totalitarian ideologies.

I think most people would agree that this treatment of racism is simplistic, at best. But the target audience for these books is children, and an argument can certainly be made that concrete examples of heroes beating the crap out of racist villains discourages racism in young, impressionable readers. And if racism really was limited to violent loudmouths, then there would be nothing wrong with these comics at all.

But these comics are problematic exactly because racism is a far more ubiquitous than mob violence and secret societies. Racism is a system that permeates numerous institutions and social structures, and an individual doesn’t necessarily need to have racist attitudes in order to perpetuate racial inequality. Take housing segregation as an example. American neighborhoods remain deeply segregated along racial lines. Yet most white homeowners (and realtors) are not card-carrying members of the KKK. They participate in a system that excludes blacks from white neighborhoods due to indifference rather than hate. And because many whites rarely come into contact with blacks on a regular basis, they aren’t even aware of any racial injustice (check out Noah’s review of “Sundown Towns” for more on this).*

Comics that associates racism exclusively with Nazis or similar extremists while ignoring the far more significant impact of systemic racism are not providing a valuable moral lesson. Rather, they encourage readers to pat their own progressive backs while doing nothing to actually challenge a system that sustains racial inequality. According to these comics, if you condemn hate groups and don’t go around assaulting immigrants, then you’re not a racist. And if you’re not a racist, then somebody else is to blame for the pervasive effects of racism. And when the vast majority of Americans refuse to assume any responsibility for problems like segregated neighborhoods, these problems never get addressed.

Superheroes solve problems by hitting them very hard. But when it comes to racism, Captain America might have to smack around a lot more people than usual. It’s much more comforting to just blame it all on Hitler.

*Thanks to Noah for the links

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Update by Noah: You can read the whole roundtable here.