The Iconoclast Effect, or how Lisa Simpson teaches us to kill our heroes

            We've all become disillusioned with a personal hero at some point, whether it was someone we knew or someone idolized by many. When I hear a news story exposing a beloved figure for corruption, I'm often hesitant to share it. Not because the truth is secondary to the ideals a person may represent—it's not—but because it's painful to see their admirers' respect shattered. I've never wanted to be a killjoy. There are times when I wonder if it's really worth posting about the less positive aspects of Pope Francis, seeing as he (or at least his public image) brings hope to so many LGBT Catholics. Or if linking to articles about Mother Theresa's exploitation of the poor is too demoralizing to people who are currently living in poverty and hold her dear as an icon. Or if talking about the fact that John Lennon beat his wife is discouraging to people who find solace in his beautiful, although hypocritical, pleas for peace. I wonder if the end justifies the means, when those who admire these public heroes don't actually promote corruption or bigotry. They admire those figures because they believe them to stand for compassion. But if a person supports someone who commits harmful acts or holds toxic beliefs, then are they inadvertently promoting that same negativity? That may be the case, especially if victims of their behavior are still alive and continue to be affected. This doesn't mean it's wrong to enjoy a person's work, as the work itself may transcend its creator. But it does mean it's best not to see the creator as noble or to excuse their behavior because of what they've made.
          This always makes me think of a Simpsons episode from 1996 called "Lisa the Iconoclast." In the storyline, Lisa discovers that a historical town hero named Jebediah Springfield was actually a fraud. The whole town has revered him for a century, to the point of having a local holiday and parade in his name. Lisa tries to expose the truth about Jebediah with limited success. She writes an essay which is met with dismay from her teacher. She makes flyers to hang up on the Kwik-E-Mart windows, but Apu panics and forbids her to display them. At the end, she's standing in front of the parade and prepared to make a public statement. She's about to announce to the town that Jebediah was a murderous pirate operating under a false identity. But at the last minute, Lisa changes her statement and tells them he was great. Afterwards, the head of the Springfield historical society asks her why she did it. Lisa answers that it was more important to keep the townspeople happy than to expose Jebediah for who he was, because his legend inspires them and provides a sense of community.
           This ending bothered me a great deal as a child. I didn't see it as upholding a loftier goal, but as backing down on her principles. Springfield hero-worshipped a mass murderer and lived in ignorance. What could be more important than the truth?
           In hindsight, I see this episode as a lot more ethically complex. None of the people who had been robbed or otherwise wronged by Jebediah Springfield were still alive, and neither was anyone who would have been aware of his crimes. Placing the flyers on display in the Kwik-E-Mart would have likely jeopardized Apu's safety—not only because of the message, but because he was an Indian immigrant living in Springfield. Their region was insular and strongly focused on town pride. He was already seen as an outlier, so granting a platform for criticism of Springfield's beloved founder would have further reinforced that status. He would have gone from an outcast to a pariah. Lisa herself would have caused outrage, but most of it would have been directed at her parents. After all, her character is only eight years old. Everyone sees a young child's opinions as a direct reflection of their parents'.
            So, in Lisa's situation, I understand why she reached the conclusion she did and decided it was not a cause worth pursuing. The ending still leaves me unsatisfied, though. It feels like an injustice, both to Lisa's diligent efforts and to Jebediah's victims, to see her bury that fiery righteousness in order to appease the majority.
           In my imagination, there's an alternate world in which the Simpsons universe is real and the characters aren't suspended in time. Lisa grows up and publishes her research, which has not gone to waste. She doesn't have to announce it in front of an idealistic crowd, but it's there for those who want to find it. That's the ending I want to believe.
           And, in the end, that leads me to my conclusion about exposing flawed cultural icons. I think it's generally the ethical thing to do, but with caution and sensitivity and respect for the faith their admirers hold in their ideals. It may be difficult to find that balance, but it's worth striving for. It means knocking over a house of cards, but leaving the deck stacked for a more stable foundation.

Utopia is unattainable, but it's still worth the chase

About two weeks ago I posted this thought on Facebook: "I think that helping others (including people, animals, and the environment) is the highest goal, both for individuals and society as a whole. But sometimes I wonder what would happen to that goal if its ends were finally universally achieved? Would the helpers then feel a lack of purpose, or would they come to focus on protecting the new, better status quo? Would some people undo progress just for the sake of re-fixing it, like a firefighter who commits arson in order to put out the flames? By no means do I believe that the majority of humanitarians would respond this way, nor that this negates the importance of striving to better the world. Just wondering what would happen in a hypothetical scenario in which those aims were realized; if some who had structured their lives and sense of self around working toward positive change might then be at a loss for what to do. How do you think this would be resolved?"

This led to an interesting discussion with some friends. One of them said she believes that goal will never be reached, and that in a way, my post in itself shows why. Our societal problems can never be entirely resolved because we're in a constant state of flux and peoples' interests rival one another. I agree. I don't believe it's possible for society to reach a state in which all major setbacks have been fixed, so the thought is purely hypothetical.

I also believe that a perfect society is impossible because it's collectively composed of flawed individuals. This thought has been met with resistance when I've expressed it in the past. People thought that by saying a utopian society is unrealistic, I was claiming it's pointless to try to achieve it. That's not what I'm trying to say. It's still a worthy cause, since excellence is achieved when perfection is sought. Similarly, acknowledging the existence of barriers to success, such as structural and institutional oppression, does not equate to telling people to give up trying. To recognize those setbacks is not to tell disadvantaged people that their future is hopeless; it's to say there are injustices which need to be challenged and dismantled for the betterment of the world. It's a call to action; the opposite of advising them to give up. It's encouraging them to fight for themselves and for others.