As much as the events of September 11 were a global media sensation, the American media seemed to recoil in their aftermath. CNN soon stopped showing footage of airplanes flying into buildings; Hollywood studios, afraid of a backlash, quickly recalled films and rewrote scripts.
One sector of the media, however, long overlooked by the mainstream, sprang to life. The American comic book industry, much of which is based in Manhattan, found itself uniquely poised to offer descriptions of and reflections on the attacks. Well-rehearsed in the images of apocalypse and the rhetoric of global confrontation, yet more deeply introspective than CNN and more irreverent than Hollywood, comic books quickly filled the media gap.
Several compilations of September 11 comics have been released recently. 9-11: Artists Respond is a two-volume set published by DC, Dark Horse and several smaller houses. Alternative Comics dedicated the proceeds of its 9-11: Emergency Relief compilation to the American Red Cross, while Marvel Comics issued Moment of Silence and Heroes, both of which focus on firefighters, policemen and rescue workers. These compilations include the contributions of scores of artists and writers, and have reached an audience of millions of readers, many of whom have not picked up a comic book since adolescence.
What comic books have always done best is provide heroes, and in these the figure of the anonymous fireman emerges as a tragic hero — groping desperately through the wreckage, struggling under the weight of a rescued person, grieving alone on a bench, defiantly hoisting the American flag.
Some artists have also chosen to place familiar old heroes in new circumstances. Captain America emerges as a symbol of the national mood — mournful in some drawings, bruised yet battle-ready in others.
Superman often strikes a reflective posture, frustrated at the limits of his own cosmic power, yet admiring the ordinary heroism of firefighters and rescue workers.
The Incredible Hulk has become the emblem of the desire for revenge, poised atop the wreckage at Ground Zero, transformed by pain and anger into a frightening figure of patriotic rage. Curiously, Spiderman and Batman, two superheroes closely identified with New York, are conspicuously absent. Spidey’s clever gags and ironic wit are perhaps too feeble in the face of such devastation; Batman’s image of evil in the service of good is simply too ambivalent for today’s Gotham (which is partly why rap anti-hero Eminem refers to Batman repeatedly and provocatively in his new album).
Beyond creating heroes, however, post-September 11 comic books have also served as a forum for debate on the causes and significance of the attacks. ”Which one is real? The Taliban who harbored Word Trade Centre Terrorists? Or the Taliban courted by United States oilmen to help construct a major pipeline?” asks one feature. Most artists prefer to deal with such themes allegorically: terrorism becomes the temper tantrum of a jealous child, or the plot of deranged mice to wake a sleeping elephant.
Other comics address the anti-Muslim violence and prejudice that erupted in the wake of the attacks. In one series of panels Captain Marvel intervenes to save an Arab shopkeeper from white thugs; in another an Arab-American artist presents the perspectives of his family and community: ”We thought we could live free here. We’re not going to give up.” And several artists wrestle with difficult questions of faith and religious belief. Frank Miller, who created a post-apocalyptic Batman in the 1980s graphic novel The Dark Knight Returns, is bleak: ”I’m sick of flags. I’m sick of God. I’ve seen the power of faith.”
What is most striking about these comic books is the prominence that the writers and illustrators have given to their personal views and experiences of the tragedy. Some seem simply stunned, unable to get past the shock and grief of the events, which they portray in almost obsessive detail. Many wonder openly about the relevance of their work: ”What’s the point of drawing guys in capes and tights now?” asks one character.
Something humble emerges from such reflections, a sudden respect for the ”real heroes” — and not just firefighters or policemen, but ordinary folk who rise to the challenges of extraordinary circumstances. Several comics portray strangers guiding each other through the dust and debris of Lower Manhattan, the working stiffs on Flight 93 who overpowered their hijackers, or estranged relatives and lovers suddenly offering each other their comfort and love in the aftermath of horror. From the wreckage of the World Trade Centre, and the muddle of US foreign policy, these peddlers in fantasy have salvaged a bit of the old American reverence for the capacities of common men and women.