Deserves Got Nothing to Do with It: The Enlightened Morality of Wonder Woman

Note: the following essay contains spoilers.

Wonder Woman, directed by Patty Jenkins, tells the story of Diana. Her story begins on the island of Themyscira, where her mother, Queen Hippolyta, rules over the Amazons. Queen Hippolyta has become cynical about the outside world, stating: “I used to want to save the world, this beautiful place. But the closer you get, the more you see the great darkness within.” Thus, she has enacted an isolationist policy to protect Themyscira. It is hard to fault her for this, especially with the First World War raging beyond the mystical shield that keeps Themyscira hidden. But nothing stays hidden forever. Steve Trevor, a spy trying to escape back to London in a stolen plane, ends up crashing in the waters off of the coast of the island. He essentially finds himself a refugee, washed up on the shore and in need of help. But Hippolyta does not wish to give it to him because of the danger that will undoubtedly follow him. And danger does indeed follow him, as a German fleet soon discovers Themyscira and attacks.

Diana, unlike her mother, and unlike many nations today, welcomes Steve Trevor. She rescues Steve before she even knows whether or not he is a danger, and in spite of whatever might be following him. She does this because she believes it is the right thing to do. Her personal morality is informed by a broader view of humanity — she values life above all else, as well as love and peace between people, regardless of country of origin or any other areas of difference. She sees the larger world beyond Themyscira and sees that she is a part of it. She cannot keep herself isolated on her mother’s island when she knows there is good and important work to be done abroad. So she decides to leave with Steve in order put an end to the war.

In the film, Diana’s morality is juxtaposed against the ideologies that govern men and their institutions. These ideologies take physical form in the person of Ares. Diana originally believes that Ares is corrupting the souls of men, whom she believes are inherently good. She is wrong about this, as she comes to see (and as Ares informs her while held by her lasso of truth). However, like any ideology that finds its way to vulnerable people in search of meaning, Ares is still a corrupting influence. He represents every ideology that keeps groups of people alienated from each other, distrustful of each other, and at war with each other. These ideologies are essentially religious in nature, which is why it makes sense to embody them in a god, and why the title of “Godkiller” should fall to Diana, whose most durable weapon is her aforementioned lasso of truth.

But the revelation about human nature leaves Diana in a difficult position. Should she continue to fight for humanity? We are not inherently good by most traditional moral standards. The concept of the “noble savage” is a blatant falsehood. We cannot escape our brutish natures, and yes, this might destine us to destroy each other. So perhaps we do not deserve Diana’s help, as her mother tells her before she departs Themyscira. Perhaps we do not deserve to be saved. But, as Diana learns from Steve Trevor, the “deserve” part does not really matter. When she witnesses Steve’s sacrifice, in which he gives up his own life to save others and end the war, she understands this. Thus, Diana does not abandon her morality; she simply strengthens it into one that is arguably more enlightened than archaic retributivism. She still sees the value in human life, and she decides to save as many lives as she can. Whether or not the people living these lives deserve her help, whether they are good or bad, is immaterial; she will fight for them regardless.

When Diana finally vanquishes Ares, it is a powerful, awe-inspiring moment. But it is also symbolic. She does not end the war, but she symbolically destroys the ideologies that fed the war. With Ares defeated, the men who were fighting against each other embrace, as if finally recognizing their shared humanity. It is a moment of relief. Their ideology might have given their lives meaning and given them a sense of purpose, but it was illusory – something that can be destroyed, as they witnessed. But love, peace, and understanding between people – these things are real (or at least Diana makes us believe that they are).

Throughout the course of the film, Diana fights against all manner of ideology. She challenges the isolationism of her own people, the Amazons, as well as the toxic nationalism prominently poisoning the world around her. And she has no patience for the deeply ingrained systems of oppression that hurt, limit, and ruin people, like the sexism that prevents women like her from having a say in Britain’s government, or the racism that negatively affected the lives of her companions, Sameer and Napi. She is not interested in any ideology that divides people and makes them see the world through a myopic “us and them” worldview.

Some have criticized Wonder Woman for not being patriotic enough, but that criticism misses the mark completely. Diana is not an American hero; she is an international hero. It is no accident that she knows all human languages, for language is one of the oldest barriers that can exist between two groups of people. Diana is here to destroy those barriers.

In this age of Trump and Brexit, of splintered coalitions and communities, Wonder Woman gives us a hero who offers a better way forward. Her message of love might strike some as too idealistic, but without it, we will forever be at each other’s throats.

On Morality in Criticism

Zero Dark Thirty

An interesting question has been making the rounds in certain critical circles since the release of Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty this past December.  And I’m not talking about the question of whether or not the film endorses torture (it doesn’t).  I’m talking about the broader question that has been phrased this way by Danny Bowes at Movie Mezzanine:

[…] is a critic under any obligation to render a moral judgment on a film?

After pointing out that the debate extends beyond Zero Dark Thirty to films like Django Unchained and Beasts of the Southern Wild, Bowes states:

With each of these films, critics praising the aesthetics of each have been accused of ignoring, rationalizing, or even siding with offensive content therein. In response, critics have been forced into a “no I do not” defensive posture, and a great deal of huffiness about art for art’s sake and the primacy of the work over the given critic’s personal beliefs and austere objectivity and so forth has ensued.

In the past, I would have agreed with the l’art pour l’art critics who claim that they can separate their personal beliefs from their aesthetic evaluations of a given film and adopt an “objective” or an “impersonal” position from which to judge the work in question.  But not anymore.  Indeed, it is my understanding that an aesthetic judgment is inseparable from a moral judgment, and vice versa.  I think that Bowes agrees:

Every act of criticism is a moral judgment, and not in a glib, media-trolling, mid-’60s Jean-Luc Godard way, either. However objective any critic tries to be in evaluating any work, the evaluation is being conducted by a matrix of observation, cognition, and the innately unique assembly of life experience and education that makes up all the things the critic knows and how s/he knows them.

Yes.  Each person who makes an aesthetic judgment on a work of art cannot escape his or her “unique assembly of life experience and education,” and this assembly includes a person’s adopted morality.  Thus, I cannot consciously separate my moral leanings from my critical evaluations of artworks any more than I can separate my aesthetic taste from my moral judgments, no matter how hard I might try to hide the influence of one over the other.  As the character Bill Haydon says in regard to his treason in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, “It was an aesthetic choice as much as a moral one.”

Bowes writes at the end of his piece:

The decision a critic makes to approach a movie on its own terms with as much objectivity as s/he can muster is a moral decision. Not everyone succeeds in completely divesting their preexisting baggage.

Not exactly.  I would say that no one succeeds in this and that the morality present in a work of criticism is never a “decision” but inevitable.  In addition, we can never really know the multitude of factors that have brought us to our critical assessments (factors as disparate as temperature, mood, and peer pressure), so how can we choose to ignore some while allowing for others?  We can’t.

In Daybreak, Friedrich Nietzsche writes:

You dislike him and present many grounds for this dislike—but I believe only in your dislike, not in your grounds!  You flatter yourself in your own eyes when you suggest to yourself and to me that what has happened through instinct is the result of a process of reasoning. (D358)

Though criticism remains our best attempt to account for our likes and dislikes, we must recognize the limitations of the undertaking (e.g., the fact that it might just be a post-hoc rationalization of a knee-jerk judgment).  And we must stop pretending that we can consciously control what influences our opinions and what doesn’t, whether it be our moral conditioning, environmental factors, or something else entirely.  The best we can do is be honest regarding the extent of our knowledge in this area.  In most cases it will be minimal.

Further reading:

5 Bizarre Factors That Secretly Influence Your Opinions