Heroes and Antiheroes

Let’s get on the same page as far as terminology.

The classical hero from the ancient world was someone who performed outstanding feats that required courage and strength. They typically performed those feats to protect others. Heroes are strong, courageous, and active. The ultimate etymology of the term hero is uncertain, but for the Greeks who gave us the concept, heroes were frequently demigods. Sometimes they were outstanding mortals such as Atalanta, who drew first blood against the Calydonian Boar. Is the Hydra of Lerna menacing your village? Call Hercules. Or Xena!

If the character you’re writing about would stand by and allow the villagers to be killed by the boar or hydra, then you’re not writing about a hero. Heroism encompasses self-sacrifice, the risk of personal destruction in the service of protecting others.

There is no moral aspect to this concept, which brings me to an important point: a hero does not have to be a nice person. I’m pressing this point so you’ll understand what I mean when I speak of “anti-heroes.”

Jason was heroic because, with Medea’s help, he faced down monsters and retrieved the Golden Fleece. But he still throws over Medea for a younger, prettier princess. It is impossible to read about Ye Olde Greek heroes—Hercules, Achilles, Odysseus, Theseus, Jason—and walk away with the idea that nice and heroic are interchangeable concepts, or even related concepts.

In this series, I am using anti in the original sense of “the opposite of.” Ergo, an anti-hero is: weak, cowardly, and passive, which is the traditional definition of the term. Your passive, ineffective bumbler who runs away from problem is an anti-hero, and some stories laud such characters. An example would be the Rincewind novels in the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett. Rincewind is an inept "wizzard" who runs from challenges at every opportunity.

And I did say “bumbler,” so I should point out that because heroes were either demigods or outstanding mortals, this often meant they were supremely gifted or skilled. They were the people you’d keep on speed dial when trouble comes to town, and they’d eagerly answer the call.

An antihero is less confident, and will likely refuse the call when trouble comes calling. A story about such a person will likely be a “positive change arc,” where a character goes from zero to hero.

I know Christopher Vogler means anti-hero differently; he is speaking of “dark” heroes who do good things while being jerkwads.

Another variety is what’s called a “Byronic hero,” after the sort of brooding heroes with a dark past Lord Byron wrote about. Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Tony Stark, and Dr. House are Byronic heroes. I will note Byron himself inspired his friend John William Polidori to write Vampyre, a novel about a dark and brooding vampire.

Moving along, you could easily have a heroic villain, popularly known as an anti-villain or villain-hero. In Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby is the head of a family of gangsters, ergo a villain. But he also earned medals for gallantry in World War I. He fought in the Battle of Verdun, the longest battle in WWI (over three hundred days), and in the Somme, one of the bloodiest battles in all of history. Ergo, he’s a hero.

In the first season Shelby is an honorable man, and consistently demonstrates his honor. His nemesis in the first season is a cop who avoided serving in WWI, and it’s strongly implied he is a coward. We later see that the cop has no honor at all. By Greek terms, Shelby is a hero, and the cop is an antihero. It is no wonder that the Love Interest prefers Shelby to the cop.

So: if your scenario is that you have terrorists menacing a school, the hero is the one who will run into the school to save the kids and kill the terrorists. The antihero is the one who cowers in the parking lot, and waits for someone else to save the kids and kill the terrorists.

The hero who saves the kids might be the brother of the antihero who’s too scared to save the kids. The hero could be having an affair with the antihero’s wife. His heroism would naturally make him attractive to her. The antihero might be faithful to his wife. Is he more virtuous? Maybe. Or maybe he’s too cowardly to cheat …

Of course, in the twenty-first century, characters who cheat on their spouses are not sympathetic: the wife could have honorably divorced the antihero, given her lack of respect for him. The hero could have honorably stayed faithful to his brother, rather than betray him. The antihero could learn selflessness, so he can think of others besides saving his own skin.

In ancient tragedies, these characters would be destroyed by their singular “fatal flaws”: the wife and hero by their selfish betrayals, and the anti-hero by his selfish cowardice.

However, on a journey, these characters may overcome their flaws, via an ordeal that obliges them to be symbolically killed and resurrected.

Anyway, I think the characters in the school-terrorist scenario are the kind you see in those “prestige TV dramas” that are praised for their “grittiness” and “nuance” and such. The protagonist in these dramas get called antiheroes because they’re horribly flawed, but their flaws are not relevant to their status as heroes: Theseus is a hero because he saves the youths from the Minotaur. He’s also unfaithful to Ariadne, who helped him in the Labyrinth.

FYI, if you ever wondered how to have readers like a character who is not a likable person, consider having the jerk do heroic things. I believe this concept is called "save the cat."

However you write your hero — with the kindhearted courage of Wonder Woman, the cool logic of Sherlock Holmes, or the dark broodiness of Angel (the vampire with a soul) — the hero is supposed to be aspirational.

As they were originally conceived, heroes inspired people to strive and reach high. But that doesn’t mean they should be written as a Mary Sue or Marty Stu. They are to earn respect, and earn victory, not be cloyingly perfect, or have everything handed to them.

The Smithsonian’s article on Nancy Drew noted kidnap victims asking themselves, “What would Nancy do?” The titian-haired sleuth demonstrated resourcefulness in captivity, and this showed the victims that it was possible for them to prevail over their own circumstances.

A well-written hero inspires readers to grow beyond their limitations. Engineers point to Star Trek’s Scotty as inspiration for their careers; Nancy Drew also inspired real life women to join the police force. Like I said above, you might write a classical anti-hero who is cowardly or unskilled, but most people enjoy seeing that character level up and become heroic. Most audiences loathe stories that celebrate a character remaining in that unheroic state.

Being unskilled, passive, and cowardly is the default state most people are born into; it’s “the Easy Button.” Thus, a character who remains in that state and never grows will be unlikeable, and not respected by the audience. Plan accordingly.

Point being, remember the hero / antihero definitions in their original context. In The Virgin’s Promise, the Virgin is the protagonist who wants a chance to shine, and test his / her mettle. Obviously then, anti-Virgins are: trying to hide their light, refusing to grow, or retreating behind defenses rather than testing themselves. Hudson designates the anti as Coward or Whore.

For the Hero’s Journey, the antihero is the one who refuses to take the journey to protect the village. For the Heroine’s Journey, the antiheroine is the one who prefers to let others run her life rather than take command of it for herself.