America's Imaginary Friends: Identity, Myth Making and Captain America

America’s Imaginary Friends

Myth, Identity and Captain America

Devi Pillay | 3759628

1 | P a g e Devi Pillay | UCPOL33

Contents Introduction .................................................................................................................................................................................... 2

Framework: mythic critique and popular culture.............................................................................................................. 2

Why comic books?......................................................................................................................................................................... 4

Method and analysis ..................................................................................................................................................................... 5

Identity construction: what does it mean to be “Captain America?” ........................................................................... 6

Narratives: the monomyth and the identity crisis ............................................................................................................. 9

The primacy of continuity ....................................................................................................................................................... 10

Identity crisis ............................................................................................................................................................................... 11

Reflections in discourse: war on terror .............................................................................................................................. 14

Captain America and the American consciousness ........................................................................................................ 17

Conclusion .................................................................................................................................................................................... 18

Bibliography ................................................................................................................................................................................. 18


Introduction In this paper, I investigate the particular value of reading identity in comic books. In particular, I focus on

American identity and exceptionalism. I want to know how comic books can serve as a negotiative tool for

questions of identity for the American public. I am interested in how the identity of America as a nation-

state is represented in popular cultural imagination and how questions of identity are interpreted and

addressed in the American psyche. I will analyse how the discourse of American identity – what it means

to be American – is constructed and negotiated within the pages of Captain America.

For this investigation, I have chosen to examine the comic books of the Marvel superhero, Captain

America. Representations of America such as this can offer us an interesting perspective on how national

identities are constructed and given lives of their own through fictional works. Superhero comic books

have been a staple of popular culture in America for decades. There are hundreds of ongoing titles on sale,

and the universes have rich histories stretching back to the 1930s and 1940s. Superheroes are icons that

stick in collective cultural consciousness. Comic books are already a quintessentially American cultural

product, as we can see below, and offer some interesting insight into how America perceives itself in the

international. But Captain America is a step above: and explicit representative agent that is America

embodied and active. I believe that a careful analysis of the way Captain America addresses questions of

national identity can provide valuable insight into the very same process in America’s collective

imagination.

Captain America is an embodied actor in the world, often taking part is major international events.

Captain America is a representative of the United States of America, a nation-state. He is also not usually

under the employ of the government or part of any state machinery. He is not a magical manifestation of

the spirit of America, and he is not magically in tune with the territory or the people he is supposed to

represent (such as, for example, Captain Britain). Captain America has been shaped by multiple writers,

artists, editors and publishing policies and is produced not by a single creator but by a constant

conversation with various parts of the production process and with readers; this made particularly

interesting by the serial format of comic books that necessitates an ongoing dialogue between publisher

and audience.

Through all of this, a consistent characterisation and narrative has emerged that places Captain America

squarely as an embodiment of America. The narrative is constantly written, the history reified and re-

written and retconned. Writers, artists, editors, managers, publishers make decisions about which

international and domestic settings to features, and readers give them feedback. What results is the

ongoing creation of a representation of America that is both a product of and a contributor to the self-

identity of the nation. It’s a peculiar thing, the imagination of a fictional persona with a personal history, a

personality, a love life, as a symbolic representation of an entire nation. Given its long history and

profound place in popular culture, I am comfortable in saying that Captain America as a construct is a

unique opportunity to analyse the meaning of America in popular imagination.

Framework: mythic critique and popular culture According to Grossman (2002), “popular culture is the most sensitive barometer we have for gauging

shifts in society’s collective mood.” Popular culture provides us with an insight into a society’s collective

cultural imagination, as poignant myths, stories and changes are reflected in the media that we produce

and consume. In a language based on stories, we turn to mythology to uncover the patterns and

symbolism of repeated fictions in popular culture.

Mythology can be understood as “a ‘sacred’ narrative which may be closely akin to fairy tales and legends,

but in contemporary popular culture and the mass media, myths can be described as justifications of

societal structure” (Reid 2007: 82). Mythologies are story structures that become naturalised – myth


forms a cultural meaning system that becomes ‘common sense’. This naturalisation of the message is the

cardinal function of myth according to Roland Barthes in his seminal work Mythologies.

In order for mythology to take hold and become reified, it requires consistent representation and

communication: “Cultural themes, values and identities can only exist if they are communicated. What is

more, a myth can only achieve great power if it is communicated regularly and widely within society.

Myths are rearticulated, reconfigured, reinvented and reinterpreted over time, to not only to secure their

own continuation, but also to encourage the continued survival of the societal framework. But to be

represented at regular and definite intervals, a mythology requires a semiotic or communicative

repertoire.” (Reid 2007: 86)

Myths create symbolic narratives that link present audiences with past audiences. Myths orient the

audience – give them a sense of their place in space and time, in history and society. They do this by

reducing complex situations to create an image of the world as understandable and free of contradictions

(Barthes 1957: 143). Myths rely on continuity of message across time, a sustainability of message.

A well-known form of myth is the heroic myth. Heroic narratives are epics that centre individuals as

important agents who inevitable embody the values of their contexts. The monomyth is a concept

developed by Joseph Campbell. This theory sees all mythic narratives as following the same patterns: all

variations on one story, the hero’s journey. This monomyth features a single hero venturing into an

unknown world, facing various threats, winning a victory and returning home with some sort of boon.

Campbell’s work illustrates the various stages of the hero’s journey and the underlying pattern of the

monomyth. (See Fig. 1 below).

Heroic myths are common to almost all cultures (Reid 2007: 87) but some scholars such as Nachbar and

Lause (1992) argue that American heroes embody qualitatively unique traits. Unlike European mythical

heroes who are often aristocrats or religious figures, American heroes tend to be ordinary citizens who

are modest about their heroic activities and consider themselves average members of their societies.

“American heroes are up in the sky for us to point at and admire, but they are also right next door so we

can share with them a cup of coffee and a heartache.” (315) Nachbar and Lause argue that there are two

broad archetypes of the American hero: the citizen hero who strives to uphold the moral value system of

the nation and the rogue hero who has to go against the mainstream and institutions in order to stand up

for what he believes in. The American hero is also overwhelmingly masculine (Lash 1995: 33) and

physically very strong; part of his journey is to master but not abuse his excessive power.

An American version of the monomyth was put forward by Robert Jewett and John Shelton Lawrence in

their 1977 work, The American Monomyth. Jewett and Lawrence argue for the existence and importance

of a qualitatively unique variation of the classical monomyth. The American monomyth is, essentially:

"A community in a harmonious paradise is threatened by evil; normal

institutions fail to contend with this threat; a selfless superhero emerges to

renounce temptations and carry out the redemptive task; aided by fate, his

decisive victory restores the community to its paradisiacal condition; the

superhero then recedes into obscurity."

Jewett and Lawrence have extensively analysed popular culture and American religious tradition using

the framework of the American monomyth in The Myth of the American Superhero (2002) and Captain

America And The Crusade Against Evil: The Dilemma Of Zealous Nationalism (2003).

Wector (1993) argues that, like the flag, the American hero is an important part of patriotism – a symbol

that encourages ‘a sense of national continuity’ (Reid 2007: 89). The American hero serves as a unifying

cultural force and an important function of Americanism. Other important mythological narratives


include American exceptionalism – the myth that America is qualitatively unique in its path and values,

and that emphasises individualism, opportunity, freedom, equality and republicanism as American

concepts – and the American dream, the pervasive myth of America as land of opportunity, where with

hard work any individual can achieve the status they deserve.

Building upon these understandings of the function of myth in American society – myth as an explanatory,

sacred narrative – I have done a discourse analysis of Captain America comics published by Marvel.

Why comic books? The creative process for a comic book is long and involved. I will focus on the “big two” – Marvel and DC –

as archetypes for the production of superhero comics. I argue that the creative process of comic book

publishing establishes the medium as uniquely interactive and responsive to society’s collective

imagination.

A creative team is made up of more than one person. Any given title features a writer, a penciller, an

inker, a colourist, a letterer and perhaps even more people working on it. The work-in-progress is passed

back and forth between multiple creators, requiring collaboration and collective agreement on

characterisation, narrative and story choices. The conversation is not just horizontal; it is also vertical.

Pitches and storylines must be approved by and are often dictated by editors higher up the ladder.

Superhero comics are almost always part of a larger universe (the Marvel 616, the DC Earth One) that

features multiple characters that form teams, interact with one another and frequently cross over. Any

character might be featured in multiple comics at the same time. Creators therefore need to talk to others

to establish continuity, interaction and storyline decisions. They also need to be cognisant of the history

of the character they are writing, which can often stretch back several decades, and ensure that their

characterisation in consistent with the established features of that character.

The publishing and distribution process also has its own complications. Solicits (short summaries and

cover art) are published months in advance of the release of individual issues to create buzz and

excitement. Local stores order the books in quantities they think they are able of selling. Perception of

how popular a book will be often dictates its success. Books that don’t sell well and that fail to achieve

buzz are often cancelled or overhauled soon after they are released, as sales figures are mostly based on

predictions made my local stores and distributers.

Furthermore, comic books are serial stories by nature. They are published in short instalments, usually

one a month. Responses to previous issues and sales numbers create changes in the storytelling decisions

of the creators. This serialised format requires keeping customers engaged and interested, and

necessitates receiving feedback and tailoring the book to public response. Creators often directly engage

with their readers: most books feature (and have done so since the beginning of the comic industry)

letters pages, where letters from readers are published and responded to. Creators are often frequently

features on panel discussions at comic conventions, maintain blogs, and cultivate a readership.

All of the above points to the process of creating superhero comics as an interpersonal project that

necessitates engagement with the past and with the public. Books have to be relevant and well received in

order to sell, and public engagement with the content of these books is what drives the medium. For

example, we can read Marvel’s decision to introduce more leads who are women, queer or people of

colour as a focused reflection of the audience that is engaging with these books. Comic books have to be

reflective: fans want to be able to recognise themselves in the pages. Comic books are therefore a fluid

and negotiated medium produced via conversation between creators and public. (So is serialised

television series, for example, but their production process differs in many significant ways). I believe this

makes them a unique text that lets us read discourses about and of the American public.


The power and unique placement of comic books in the popular imagination has been recognised by

important actors in the political realm. Superhero comics, while not necessarily political texts in

themselves, frequently contain political content and are used to make political statements. As Jason

Dittmer (2007b: 249) points out, “not only the plots of these comic books are being sculpted to fit political

agendas, but also the very contours of the genre”.

The establishment of the Comics Code Authority in the 1950s, for example, attempted to enforce strict

rules on the content of comic books as an attempt to prevent harmful influence on the American youth –

recognising the power of the genre and its relationship with the audience. The United States Government

has frequently created and distributed comic books in attempts to interact with youth, for example the

2005 effort to create comic books aimed at youth in the Middle East:

In order to achieve long-term peace and stability in the Middle East, the youth

need to be reached. One effective means of influencing youth is through the use of

comic books. A series of comic books provides the opportunity for youth to learn

lessons, develop role models and improve their education (US Government 2005

quoted in Dittmer 2007b: 248).

Method and analysis I want to do a discourse analysis in the manner of historical representation as outlined in Dunn (2009). I

will analyse the texts as well as popular response and engagement in the form of creator interviews and

letters from readers.

Parameters: the publication of history of Captain America covers nearly 70 years of comics, including

appearances in team and partner titles, one shots and miniseries in addition to his own title. This is far

too much for one paper. I’ve narrowed the parameters of this analysis to four important themes, which

I’ve chosen because they represent important moments in American history and in the publication

history of Captain America: WWII, the Cold War, 9/11 and the war against terror, and post-modern

confusion. I have narrowed my selections to include arcs and issues that 1) are solo titles 2) cover

important moments in Captain America history 3) are not stories about his personal life or adventures in

space. I have read the following collections as well as numerous individual issues:

Essential Captain America, Vol. 1 collecting Tales of Suspense #59-99; Captain America #100-102

(1940s)

Captain America Comics #1-78 (March 1941 - September 1954)

Captain America: Man Without a Country collecting Captain America #450-453 (1996)

Captain America, Vol. 1: The New Deal collecting Captain America vol. 4, #1-6 (2003)

Captain America, Vol. 2: The Extremists collecting Captain America vol. 4, #7-11 (2003)

Truth: Red, White & Black by Morales and Baker (2003)

Captain America vol. 5 collecting #1-50 including Winter Solider, Red Menace, Civil War and The

Death of Captain America (2004-2008)

Captain America vol. 6 by Ed Brubaker (2012-2013)

I constructed this list from my own knowledge of Captain America canon and consultation with various

accounts of the publication history of Captain America Comics. After an initial reading of the collections

above, I identified interesting storylines and discarded others. I then did I second read through and

analysed the arcs, pulling out the following components:

Major villain (eg. Flag Smasher)


Villain’s motivation (eg. ending state based international system)

Major action (eg. terrorising the UN)

Captain America self-reflection (understanding/sympathy/questioning)

Captain America judgement (no excuse for violence)

Captain America action (stopping terrorist)

Invocations of America (references to the dream, values etc.)

Following the breakdown of the narratives into these components I

constructed story-circle charts for each of my chosen arcs. Story circles

are often used by writers and scholars of literature to analyse narrative

structures. This example is of the tradition Campbellian monomyth:

Fig. 1

I compared by story circles and was able to abstract the following narrative structures:

Fig. 2 Fig. 3

These two story circles were consistent with almost every issue I read, save for stories that were part of

larger, group centric arcs, and stories focused on the personal life of Steve Rogers (romance etc.) Using

these insights into basic narrative structures, I then analysed how these stories served as stabilisation

mechanisms for the underlying American myths. That analysis follows.

Identity construction: what does it mean to be “Captain

America?” Captain America #1 was published in December 1940, months before American involvement in WWII.

The cover memorably shows Captain America punching Adolf Hitler in the face. It received

A threat appears and is confronted

by Captain America

Complexity of threat

destabilises Cap's identity and

challenges values

Captain America rearticulates identity and

relabels problems as "unamerican"

Captain America resolves threat (not necessarily

violently)

Captain America is strong and sure

A threat appears and is confronted

by Captain America

Threat is articulated in opposition to

America

Captain America resolves the threat with

violence

Captain America reflects

Captain America is strong in his

identity and sure of his values


overwhelmingly favourable responses and sold nearly one million copies. Since then, Captain America has

been an incredibly well known stable of the comic book superhero universe. Captain America was

conceived as an intentionally patriotic book, used to inspire patriotism at home and also used as a call to

American intervention in Europe (see Dittmer 2010). The book was successful until the end of the war,

when support dwindled and the book was eventually cancelled. There were some unsuccessful attempts

to bring back the character but none stuck until

His story is a familiar one. In brief, Steve Rogers is a frail arts student from New York City who repeatedly

attempts to enlist in the army to fight in Europe. He is turned away due to his physical weakness, but his

persistence and ethic are noticed by higher-ups in the military. He is invited to become a test subject for a

secret supersoldier creation science program, and is transformed into a near perfect human specimen

and supersoldier. The “superserum” used to augment him is lost when the doctor in charge of the

program is killed, leaving Steve a unique super powered soldier. He takes the name ‘Captain America’,

dons the stars and stripes, and leaves to join the war effort in Europe. He fights Nazis and, often, an

organisation called HYDRA led by the Red Skull, a Nazi science division. In 1945 he is lost at sea after

failing to defuse a bomb on a plane. He is frozen, preserved by his superhuman physiology, and

discovered decades later by the first iteration of the Avengers, Marvel’s premier superhero team. He once

again takes up the hero business, but now as a “man out of time”, a preserved element from WWII-era

America.

At face level, all of the markers of the American default are present. Steve Rogers is physically able,

strong, white, heterosexual and masculine. He ticks all the boxes for what a default American looks like –

where maleness, whiteness, heterosexuality, Christianity, physical ability are the norm and anything is

else is other. Captain America is everyman to the American imagination, the default heroic form. But

beyond demographic markers and the inevitable conflation of the American self with

whiteness/masculinity/heteronormativity, the character of Captain America owes its foundation to

America’s mythological heritage.

Steve Rogers grows up poor, working class, raised by a single mother, and physically weak. His parents

were Irish immigrants. His character trajectory – pulling himself up by his bootstraps, working hard and

being a good American – is a mirror image of the American dream: if you work hard enough, if you have

the right values and the right work ethic, you can become Captain America. An important part of the

Captain America narrative is the deserving of Steve Rogers: he was chosen to become Captain America

because he embodied everything an American should be – persistent, dedicated, hard-working, patriotic.

From his very origin, before we analyse storylines and narratives, Captain America, or Cap for short, is

politically and socially embedded in a number of different discourses about what it means to be America.

He’s part and parcel of default heterosexuality, default whiteness, American dream rhetoric, and a host of

other identifiers. Moreover, the construction of Steve Rogers as Captain America shows us an image of the

nation-state as a timeless, a priori entity. Cap must embody something.

Captain America’s stories revolve around interpreting what it means to represent America. Obviously, not

every storyline can have this as its main focus, but it is a constant and strong theme. It is often the explicit

focus of the storyline: how does Captain America interact with his country? How does he perceive

America? How comfortable is he representing that? These stories thus consistent interpret and reimagine

American identities and discourses through Steve Rogers (a True American) and his struggles with his

nation. In the 40’s, it was easy to portray Cap as a defender of democracy and liberty against the evil

Nazis, and as a fighter for the American dream. More recently, however, Cap’s storylines have become

fraught with self-doubt and crises of identity.

The existence and popularity of Captain America is indicative of the reification of the nation-state and (1)

a natural organisation of social life and (2) a whole, spirited actor in the world stage. The nation-state


becomes the natural, default actor in the international1. The storylines and identity crises Captain

America must face always feature prominently the ineffable reality of America, the nation state, as a unit.

America is not government (Captain America frequently challenges or ignores the US government, in fact,

when he believes it to be corrupt or un-American). It is not the territory (Captain America often acts

abroad or even in space). It is not even its citizens, who are often shown as disliking and disagreeing with

Captain America when the tide of public opinion changes. In his quest to figure out what his relation to

America is, and in the way the books

In all of these stories “America” is something external, eternal and spiritual. Just look at this exchange

between Cap and his then-girlfriend Sharon Carter. Here they are discussing the “Superhero Registration

Act”, a law that forces all masked heroes to divulge their secret identities to the government and an

unsubtle metaphor for the Patriot Act:

Captain America: Should [superheroes] be denied the right to make that choice?

Sharon Carter: Maybe… yes. Because they’re risking other people’s lives every

time they jump into a firefight. And because it’s against the law. And the rule of

law is what this country is founded on.

Captain America: No… it was founded on breaking the law. Because the law

was wrong. (Captain America vol. 5, #22 by Ed Brubaker 2006)

Captain America makes choices by deciding what the American thing to do is. That isn’t the law of the

country or even its democratic will (Cap was famously opposed to the Registration Act, despite its

overwhelming public support). He takes his cues from some external spirit of America that seems to exist

a priori to the nation-state itself. America is an idea that he can draw on and can think of in different ways.

The actions and behaviours of its state and citizens then can be un-American.

Captain America: I’m not a knee-jerk patriot. I don’t believe in this country

right or wrong. I support America in its concept, its essence, its ideal. Its political

system, its foreign and domestic policies, its vast book of laws—I am not

America’s official advocate of any of that. What I represent are the principles

that America’s politics, laws, and policies are based upon… freedom, justice,

equality, opportunity. (Captain America, vol. 1, #322, by Mark Gruenwald 1986)

This is interesting in many ways. A commitment to ideals and values as American ideals and values seems

a little bizarre. Freedom, justice, equality and opportunity are global concepts and certainly not unique to

the US. And yet here they are earmarked as the core of Captain America. It is the very essence of American

exceptionalism: a conception of qualitatively unique ideals valued by the USA and reproduced in its

ideology and policy, including things like egalitarianism, freedom, individualism, republicanism etc. This

is taken to be the ‘spirit’ of America, independent of the actions of government or citizens, independent of

territory, independent of a whole lot of other markers traditionally associated with the nation state. All

Captain America needs in order to literally embody his nation is (1) to possess desirable default markers

(whiteness, masculinity) and (2) to commit to the above discussed ideals. It would be very easy to see

1 Dittmer (2007) had done an interesting analysis on how Captain America legitimises the international system and precludes alternative geopolitical imaginations, invoking the story of Flag Smasher and explicit references to international anarchy and organisations


Steve Rogers in a different outfit with a different name, and replace American in his dialogue with good.

This construction reifies the nation-state as a natural, value-laden entity that can be emulated.

Captain America, then is a set of very specific representations of America. Not what America is or even

perceives itself to be in present or part, but a sort of timeless embodiment of “the American dream”. This

is morally righteous and just. We have a man whose entire job involves the use of violence and the

capture and killing of enemies, but he is always positioned as a protector and defender. He carries no

weapons, only an incredibly strong shield, the ultimate object of defence. He is also very open and

transparent. He doesn’t do covert work or espionage. He fights in daylight, decked out in bright colours

with a capital “A” on his forehead. His identity isn’t a secret, unlike most other superheroes.

I would argue that he is a projection of how America as a nation-state would like to see itself: brave,

strong, noble, open, honest, doing what needs to be done. It’s an idealised self-insert, American

exceptionalism made flesh. Dittmer (2010: 627) writes: “Significant to this role is Captain America’s

ability to connect the political projects of American nationalism, internal order, and foreign policy (all

formulated at the national or global scale) with the scale of the individual, or the body. The character of

Captain America connects these scales by literally embodying American identity, presenting for readers a

hero both of, and for, the nation. Younger readers may even fantasize about being Captain America,

connecting themselves to the nation in their imaginations. His characterization as an explicitly American

superhero establishes him as both a representative of the idealized American nation and as a defender of

the American status quo.”

The commitment to America’s spirit and not its reality means that the two are constantly coming into

conflict with one another. Steve Rogers is often shown struggling to come to terms with national identity,

international politics and the consequences of American exceptionalism. Multiple identity crises are

articulated in discussions about politics (Civil War), important character decisions (Nomad) and moral

dilemmas with no clear victory. Steve Rogers is shown as constantly having to investigate, examine and

decide what it means to be an American. He needs to establish what America is before he can act: America

is his mode of being.

These storylines – perhaps the bulk of character-centric Captain America work – point to a specific

conception of America. America has a stable, strong, heroic identity: he stands for important values

(freedom, equality, opportunity, hard work) and anything that conflicts with these values is un-American

and must be fought. Cap has fought aliens, other superheroes, international criminals, foreign states and

his own government in defence of this American ideal.

Tellingly, then, what happens when fighting that which is “un-American” becomes uncomfortable? Such a

strong and stable identity requires itself to be in opposition to other identities. This frequently becomes

difficult to navigate when fighting for freedom or equality can turn out to be pretty oppressive itself, and

when there are no right answers. A red-white-and-blue figure like Cap is strong in his ideals. So what

happens when America starts to become the bad guy? The narrative changes.

Narratives: the monomyth and the identity crisis Captain America, for the most part, follows the articulation of the American monomyth given to us by

Jewett and Lawrence. He is the selfless hero who travels to restore a paradise in trouble when other

institutions fail, and after his victory he goes back home to his civilian identity. His stories followed these

patterns for a very long time. Two developments changed the way myth is articulated through his

narrative.

The first was the advent of the superhero team. Captain America, as a founding Avenger, began to become

involved in stories that needed him to work in tandem with other superheroes with varying backgrounds,


motivations and power levels. This created a complexity of storylines. This also meant keeping Cap in

New York, because he had made friends and connections and had more of a personal connection to his

own surroundings. However, major missions still followed the same major patterns. Even when fighting

crime at home, Steve Rogers is always an outsider, a man out of time, rescuing communities without

asking for reward.

The second development appears to be a reflection of American postmodern complexity, and will be the

major focus of this section.

Captain America is necessarily reflective of American global issues and the relationship America has with

itself (Dittmer 2007a). The text always incorporates developments in the international into its narrative. I

argue that an increasing complexity and blurring of American identity and place in the world is translated

to text. Just as Vietnam and Watergate caused tensions and rifts in the American public and caused people

to rethink their relationship with their state, so the same dilemmas are reflected in comic books. Almost

all major developments have comic book analogues: Cap was in WWII and Korea, other superheroes

featured prominently in Vietnam, a Watergate-esque scandal prompts Captain America to renounce his

name for a time, the Cold War produced many defining characters and storylines related to the red scare,

9/11 shifted the focus on to terrorism. Identity crises in America are always reflected in the pages of

Captain America.

The primacy of continuity However, the serialised narrative of Captain America depends on continuity. Continuity is a fascinating

construction and a unique feature of the comic book medium. Continuity refers to everything the fans

know about a specific character: their personality, values, personal history, abilities and so on. Comic

books have characters than have been existent since the 40s but are still prominent characters today:

their histories encompass decades of real-time without substantially aging the characters in their

personal continuities. Continuity becomes thoroughly divorced from real time and real history, and

decade’s worth of stories can all be true of a character who is perhaps only still in his mid-thirties. Strong

continuity requires only consistency – new stories cannot contradict old stories, whether in terms of how

a character acts or what a character is capable of doing, without threatening the internal coherence of the

storylines. Continuity thus takes primacy over history and comics have a vested interest in remaining

consistent with their own creations.

Occasionally, characters or universes undergo reboots or retcons, which usually involves rewriting the

histories of those characters to make them internally consistent. The retcon – a portmanteau of

“retroactive continuity” – is necessary because internal contradiction is antithetical to the serialised

format of the genre. Fans would lose investment in long standing themes and characters if they are

contradicted, and the entire structure of the fictional universe would fall apart from a storytelling point of

view. Multiple deaths, resurrections, costume and name changes and so on are part and parcel of a

medium that has been utilising the same characters for decades, but those changes need explanations that

make sense within the rules constructed for that universe. As long as the continuity in intact, anything is

possible.

This function of continuity – to ensure internal coherence – also serves to prevent meaningful change.

While characters can and do grow and develop, too much growth can age a character and can

substantially alter the tone of a book, which makes it difficult to sustain. The stories deal with this by (1)

preventing change entirely, by (2) creating legacies, or by (3) undoing change. A legacy allows for a

superhero name and function to exist independently of the person filling it, allowing multiple successive

characters to fill one spot. A prime example of this is Batman. Bruce Wayne is (almost) always Batman,

and seems not to age or grow in any significant way (option one). His sidekick Robin, on the other hand,

often changes - as the sidekicks grow up, take on other identities or are killed. But he almost always does


have a Robin, regardless of who is in the pixie boots (option two). Significant changes that change the

underlying narrative of the book (Spider-man marrying Mary-Jane and settling down) are often reversed,

which is option three (Mephisto magically erases the marriage from history). Continuity of the narrative

always takes precedence to change, growth and reflexivity.

When Spider-Man is retconned, it is so that the new direction of his story is consistent with his character.

When Captain America is retconned, it’s so that global developments can be reconciled with American

identity. Thus, while the myths can change with time (and they do), the changes are written to serve the

continuity – what Dittmer (2007b) calls “the tyranny of the serial”. When global developments threaten to

destabilise the text, the text either compensates or is rewritten to have always been that way. Nexon and

Jackson (2003: 148) also highlight the similarities between the serial nature of (in this case) a long

running television show and American foreign policy: “The position of the formulators of U.S. foreign

policy is not unlike that of the producers and writers of Star Trek: they both generate an episodic product

for consumption that involves the “emplotting” of various characters and themes in a more or less

consistent narrative.”

In line with this analysis, I argue that continuity is equally important to mythic constructions outside of

the comic book medium. Political discourse and national myths share many of the same features – long

standing characters, important themes and commitments to values, and a consistent presence in

collective imagination. Internal coherence for the myths that underlie political discourse is also

paramount. Presidents can change, but archetypes remain the same. Wars can change, but heroic

journeys remain the same. Continuity is always preserved in order to maintain the internal coherence of

America.

Identity crisis There is a major moment in Captain America continuity Rogers giving up his Captain America identity.

Nomad: The Man Without a Country was an arc featured in Captain America #177-186, originally

published in December 1974. This arc was an unsubtle Watergate analogue that sees Cap disillusioned

after discovering major political corruption within the US government. Steve Engelhart, the writer for this

arc, said, “I was writing a man who believed in America's highest ideals at a time when America's

President was a crook. I could not ignore that.” (Englehart)

Rogers instead constructs a new persona for himself, “Nomad: the man without a country”, under which

he continues doing the same things he has always done: fighting crime, rescuing innocents, and defeating

supervillains. Only this time he finds himself floundering and unwelcome, distrusted by the public.

However, a crop of imposters appear, making him realise that Captain America will exist in the public’s

minds no matter who wears the costume and prompting him to take up the mantle once again. #182,

“Inferno”, features this memorable three-page monologue (emphasis mine):

CA: The people who had custody of the American Dream had abused both it and

us! There was no way I could keep calling myself “Captain America” because the

others who acted in America’s name were every bit as bad as the Red Skull!

[Silence] Every bit as bad as the Red Skull... And yet, I didn’t want to know about

those people! The skull was okay to oppose, and still is… But Number One wasn’t

because he was supposed to be on our side! Oh Lord… if I wasn’t prepared for

any and all threats to the American Dream, then what was I doing as Captain

America? I’m not the poor abused hero I’ve been telling myself I was! I’m not

even a fool! I’m a failure! I thought I knew who the good guys and the bad guys

were: I thought, as usual, that things weren’t as complex as they are… and I


couldn’t understand how the good guys could put their faith in a man so bad! But

my naïveté is my problem – not America’s! The country didn’t let me down – I

let her down, but not being all that I could be! If I’d paid more attention to the

way American reality differed from the American dream… If I hadn’t done

around thinking the things I believe in were thirty years out of date – Then I

might have uncovered Number One and stopped him before it was too late! I

guess what I’m saying is… There has to be somebody who’ll fight for the

dream, against any foe – somebody who’ll do the job I started – right! And God

knows I can’t let anybody else run the risks that job entails for me! (Captain

America vol. 1 #182, Steve Englehart 1975)

In this arc, Captain America’s conception of the world and of America is challenged, resulting in an

unsustainable tension between the narrative (America as exceptional) and reality (America as flawed and

hypocritical) that threatens to collapse the continuity (Captain America cannot keep going as he has been

without contradicting his own values). This tension is resolved by reconstructing the meaning of America

and purifying it, resulting in (1) a reaffirmed belief in American mythology and (2) a new Other

constructed as opposed to it. In this case, “America” is abstracted from its representatives and state

structures and purified into an abstract, perfect American Dream; meanwhile Nixon and a corrupt

government as constructed as threats to America that need defeating. The narrative purifies America as

incorruptible and constructs all threats and evils as un-American, resolving the tension and allowing

Captain America to remain Captain America, albeit with a new set of villains to fight.

This resolution of continuity disallows ‘America’ from even being in the wrong, instead constructing all

bad things as un-American. It involves continuous abstraction and a reduction of a complex nation-state

to the core tenets of the American Dream. America can do no wrong and America exists independently of

its representatives or state structures. As he says at the end of the run: “I'm loyal to nothing, General ...

except the [American] Dream." (Captain America vol. 1 #182, Steve Englehart 1975)

We can see the same pattern repeated again and again. When global development create tension and

confusion in the cultural imagination of America – when events threaten the image of America – these

concerns are reflected in the pages of Captain America and resolved in order to maintain continuity of

character and narrative.

By favourite example is perhaps that of the 1950’s version of Captain America: Commie Smasher. The

1950s, fuelled by McCarthyite anti-communist paranoia, saw the revival of Captain America as “Commie

Smasher”, an American cardboard cut-out of a witch-hunter. He was a racist and violent defender of

American capitalism. The books had little depth to them, portraying all communists as grotesque and evil

and the Reds as an ever-present, pervasive evil; it failed dramatically as public support for McCarthy

waned and the book was quickly cancelled. The books had tried to make the Cold War real and had tried

to read the public imagination, but the simplistic, one-dimensional patriotism failed to take hold.

Perhaps a contributor to this was the establishment of the Comics Code Authority in the 1950’s, which

created strict standards for comic books. Most vendors refused to sell books which did not carry the seal.

It enforced numerous restrictions such as the below, which forced a simplification and polarisation of the

narrative:

Crimes shall never be presented in such a way as to create sympathy for

the criminal, to promote distrust of the forces of law and justice, or to

inspire others with a desire to imitate criminals.

If crime is depicted it shall be as a sordid and unpleasant activity.


Policemen, judges, government officials, and respected institutions shall

never be presented in such a way as to create disrespect for established

authority.

In every instance good shall triumph over evil and the criminal punished

for his misdeeds.

Inclusion of stories dealing with evil shall be used or shall be published

only where the intent is to illustrate a moral issue and in no case shall

evil be presented alluringly, nor so as to injure the sensibilities of the

reader.

The book sold poorly and was cancelled. Then in 1964, Captain America was relaunched. The last ten

years were retconned entirely. The “retcon” is a portmanteau of “retroactive continuity”, which is a device

used to change the history of a storyline after it has already been run, effectively changing the history of

the character and all the audience knows about the character. The Commie Smasher years were ignored

entirely. In this new version of the tale, Captain America was frozen in the late forties after falling from a

drone plane into the ocean and remained so until he was found by the newly-formed Avengers in 1964.

This retcon simply ignored the “commie smasher” years. They were eventually addressed in 1972 with a

new retcon: the Captain America of the 1950s was an imposter, put in place by the FBI to fight the Cold

War. Not only was the real Captain America never involved in the dubious witch-hunts fuelled by Cold

War paranoia, then, but that Captain was a fake, an imposter, a political ploy. In a storyline by Ed

Brubaker in 2009, Captain America finds himself having to battle this fake-Captain America. That arc was

named “the Two Americas” and portrays the imposter as a racist, conservative, violent uber-patriot to

Cap’s American dream-style belief in equality and liberty.

These decades worth of changes to the narrative show how Captain America tries to represent ongoing

developments about America’s relation to the world, and how Captain America tries to reconcile changes

with its image of America. The identity of America as a hero who believes in individualism and freedom is

irreconcilable with the Commie Smasher, so the history had to change. As Dittmer writes, “The

McCarthyite anti-communist crusade in the United States is narrativised as aberrant behaviour caused by

an imposter, perpetuating the nation narrative of an innocent America.” (Dittmer 2007a: 44) Once again,

America is purified and absolved of any taint, this time by labelling aberrant behaviour as fake and not

really American.

The retcon is the narrativised version of historical revisionism – a change in history in order to maintain a

mythic construction of identity. We arrive at an almost Orwellian insight into villainy as necessary for

maintaining the role of hero (“We’ve always been at war with Eastasia”.)

What this format – the serialised, long-continuity, collectively imagined superhero comic – allows is for

history to be rewritten. In this case, Captain America does not have to take responsibility for morally

dubious actions; history can be revised so that he was never in this situation to begin with. This strategy –

changing the situation so that Captain America remains pure of heart and unsullied, when retrospection

shows that his actions may be questionable – is often repeated. Take, as another example, the arc Truth:

Red, White and Black, which offers us an entirely different type of retcon with similar consequences.

Truth follows a regiment of black American soldiers involuntary experimented on in an attempt to

recreate the supersoldier serum that gave Captain America his powers – a very clear reference to the

infamous Tuskagee Syphillis study in which black Americans were lied to and subjected to highly


unethical medical experiments. All the subjects of the study undergo painful mutation and then death –

all but, Isaiah Bradley, who becomes the “Black Captain America”.

Truth: Red, White and Black is reflective of a growing awareness of America’s recent racial history – the

Tuskagee study carried on well into the 70s, and was only apologised for in 1997. Growing awareness and

growing pressure to recognise historical and present-day injustices within America create a situation

where uncomfortable truths cannot be ignored. And as comics act as a site of reflection of collective

consciousness, these truths have to be taken into account and written in. So we have an addition to the

Captain America mythos, one that acknowledges the historical connections between racism, eugenics and

human experimentation. It is important to note that this storyline, which does make an attempt to reflect

American truths, does so without ever tarnishing the reputation of the white Captain America, who had

nothing to do with any of this – and, as the experiments were an attempt to recreate the serum after Steve

Rogers was injected with it, he isn’t even a beneficiary of this particularity of institutionalised racism.

As much as the mythos of Captain America constantly tries to resolve conflicts between the ideal image of

America and the reality of it, America always comes out innocent. America is transformed into an almost

unattainable ideal that is often failed. Those who claim to represent America but do so poorly are

relabelled as corrupt and un-American, demonised by the next as America is simultaneously purified of

their actions. It’s telling that Isaiah Bradley and the experiments he underwent are rarely if ever referred

to outside of this limited series, and that once the issue was addressed it was almost immediately

forgotten. (Even Patriot, the grandson of Isaiah Bradley and a black teenage superhero who also wears

the stars and stripes, disappeared from comics after his run on Young Avengers.)

I have discussed three important moments of identity crisis in Captain America. Often the narrative solves

identity crises in much more pragmatic ways: in the wake of 9/11, Captain America had to deal with

terrorism and Islam. But the few issues (2001-2003) that attempt to do so betray uneasiness with his

own behaviour: he often confronts terrorists to confront him about American imperialism, about hard

circumstances in their own countries, about their reasons for their actions. While the text inevitably

concludes that violence towards civilians cannot be justified and villains must be defeated, Captain

America is shown as uneasy and questioning – reflecting a growing unease about America’s war on terror

(Dittmer 2005).

After a while, Islam and terrorism become conspicuously absent in the pages of Captain America. He

instead turns to fight a roster of aliens, racists and Nazis – comfortable opponents that squarely positions

Captain America as unambiguously good. It’s reminiscent of Vietnam-era Marvel that kept Cap almost

entirely out of Vietnam, although other superheroes had no qualms getting involved in that conflict.

Ambiguity, doubt and a crisis of confidence are translated to Captain America by shifting the focus away

from the area of tension and refocusing the American identity onto a more stable, more evil Other.

Reflections in discourse: war on terror The primacy of continuity – the need to reconcile the hero with his story – is not just an element of

serialised comic books. Political and nationalist discourse follows many of the same narrative patterns

and, I argue, follows similar mechanisms of stabilisation. Many others (Jewett and Lawrence, Dittmer, and

more cited at the end of this work) have discussed how political discourse tends to follow mythic

narratives as they become reified and taken as natural and logical developments. The American

monomyth is seen often in political discourse with America in the role of the hero, needing to intervene in

crises when institutions fail and to restore troubled lands to their former paradisiacal natures.

Captain America as a literal embodiment of America – standing for American values and the American

people-. global developments are written into the pages of his ongoing, and he has to respond. Above, I

have outlined the ways in which the narrative compensates for identity dilemmas. Now I will discuss


similar developments in political discourse, concluding that the need for continuity and the stabilisation

of American mythology had be read in this realm, and that it can offer us poignant insights. Particularly,

this ‘tyranny of the serial’ is apparent in changes of discourse between the Bush presidency and the

Obama presidency. These discursive changes, while they are indeed changes, function to maintain the

metanarrative of America as heroic, exceptional and unquestionably moral. America’s own missteps are

retconned, reinterpreted or transformed into the evil actions of un-American individuals, purifying the US

of doubt.

The Bush-led war on terror threatened to destabilise the American constitution as contradictions in the

narrative became clear. Specifically, the tension between the American identity as a force for good in the

world and an upholder of American values and the reality of torture, occupation and rendition. This crisis

of continuity is made clear in moments of contradiction – Abu Graib comes to mind as a particularly

painful example of the disjunction between identity and reality.

Just as Captain America’s roster of villains changes in order to keep him as the moral center in opposition

to an unambiguous evil, so does the major opposition of the United States. Language and identifiers –

Islam/terrorism/axis of evil/Al-Qaeda/Bin Laden – change easily in order to reposition the US. President

Obama, for example, deliberately avoids language associated with the Bush administration (such as ‘axis

of evil’ and ‘war on terror’) although his counterterrorism policy is not very different to his predecessors

(Jackson 2011).

The Bush administration relied upon an almost religious narrative of good vs. evil to justify the war on

terror, once that fits in very well with the American monomyth (paradisiacal international community is

threatened by the axis of evil, the UN and other institutions fail to take appropriate action, so the selfless US

rises to defeat the evil and return to his community). The monomyth conveys “pessimism about democratic

institutions and public responsibilities,” “impatience with constitutional processes” and a “messianic

expectation that society can be redeemed by a single stroke” (Jewett and Lawrence 1977: 215). They also

explicitly call attention to a narrative of a “chosen people under attack” (174). Written decades before the

9/11 attacks and the advent of the war on terror, the American monomyth still strongly parallel the US

narrative about the invasion of Iraq.

The story of the war on terror has been rearticulated many times. Each time it is to resolve a tension in

the coherence of the story, and each time the new story draws upon elements of American exceptionalism

and refocuses the purity of the US. Before the invasion, the political discourse was consistently framed

around the problem of weapons of mass destruction and the disarmament of the regime. Bush and his

allies that bought into his doctrine (notably Tony Blair, in a role somewhat akin to a sidekick) in fact

frequently directed discussion away from regime change and towards the control of WMDs:

Bush (2002): "The stated policy of the United States is regime change… However,

if [Hussein] were to meet all the conditions of the United Nations, the conditions

that I have described very clearly in terms that everybody can understand, that

in itself will signal the regime has changed." (Sanger 2002)

Blair (2002): “Regime change in Iraq would be a wonderful thing. That is not the

purpose of our action; our purpose is to disarm Iraq of weapons of mass

destruction…” (The Guardian 2002)

Blair (2002): “So far as our objective, it is disarmament, not regime change - that

is our objective.” (idem)


Bush (2003): “Saddam Hussein must understand that if he does not disarm, for

the sake of peace, we, along with others, will go disarm Saddam Hussein.”

(Sanger 2002)

Blair (2003): “I detest his regime. But even now he can save it by complying with

the UN's demand. Even now, we are prepared to go the extra step to achieve

disarmament peacefully.” (Hasan 2010)

Here the community that the US (and its allies) needs to save is the international community, which is

threatened by Iraq’s possession of weapons of mass destruction, and the narrative remains intact and

coherent. After the failure of the US to find WMDs in Iraq after the invasion, the narrative was destabilised

– the international community was not under threat at all.

So the narrative was rearticulated, with a focus on human rights abuses and democracy. The shift in

emphasis was large and often called out. For example, Senator Chafee (R-RI) to the Deputy Secretary of

Defense, in late 2003: “in the months leading up to the war it was a steady drum beat of weapons of mass

destruction, weapons of mass destruction, weapons of mass destruction. And, Secretary Wolfowitz, in your

almost hour-long testimony here this morning, once -- only once did you mention weapons of mass

destruction, and that was an ad lib." (Shraeder 2003)

Bush (2003): Our mission in Iraq and Afghanistan is clear to our service

members -- and clear to our enemies. Our men and women are fighting to secure

the freedom of more than 50 million people who recently lived under two of the

cruelest dictatorships on earth. Our men and women are fighting to help

democracy and peace and justice rise in a troubled and violent region. Our men

and women are fighting terrorist enemies thousands of miles away in the heart

and center of their power, so that we do not face those enemies in the heart of

America. (Bush 2003)

The rationale humanitarian mission did not come out of the blue and had been present in justifications

well before the invasion began. However it was never the focus of the US’s action in Iraq until it was

retrospectively made the most important factor after WMDs were not found.

This reframing and retconning serves to strengthen the internal coherence of the American myth. In this

framing, the paradisiacal community threatened is Iraq and the Middle East, which the US now needs to

save from evil (Saddam Hussein and terrorism). The war itself is not questioned and America’s presence

in Iraq is made to be consistent with its values through retroactive refocus. This narrative and an

increasing focus on counterterrorism continued until the end of Bush’s presidency.

The Obama administration appears to break with this narrative but Jackson (2011) argues that Obama,

too, merely articulates and stabilises the myth. “It can be argued that these policy decisions indicate

disagreement over the strategies and tactics of the war on terror, not whether the threat of terrorism

warrants or is best dealt with by a ‘war’, or whether the war on terror has failed to achieve any significant

gains and should be ended.” (402) In his discourse analysis of war on terror narratives, he concludes that

“in terms of the public language of President Obama, the evidence is even clearer that he publicly accepts

the core narratives of the war on terror and is committed to its continuation, even if he has stopped using

the phrase ‘war on terror’.” (idem)


Even in the places where the Obama administration does significantly break from the Bush

administration, these too are retrospectively legitimised. President Obama frequently makes use of this

technique, casting the Iraq war as a war that ‘should never have been authorised’ while simultaneously

making use of the vocabulary of the war and terror and increasing military presence in Pakistan and

Afghanistan (Jackson 2011): “the central front in the war on terror is not Iraq, and it never was. That is

why the second goal of my new strategy will be taking the fight to al Qaeda in Afghanistan and Pakistan”

(Obama, 15 July 2008 quoted in Jackson 2011: 16).

Changes in discourse seem to function as self-correcting mechanisms to the narrative. The narrative can

be fixed but it can never be rejected entirely – with might account for the seeming inability of new

administrations to move significantly away from their predecessors. “In this re-narration, however,

America is still an exceptional nation, but for different reasons: because it has always opposed torture, it

supports the rule of law and it accepts people of all faiths.” (Jackson 2011: 19) Obama can rearticulate an

idea of America, but he can only do so by drawing on American commonplaces and myths already firmly

embedded in society – and in so doing, he can only reinforce and reify them as natural.

Captain America and the American consciousness So what does Captain America mean for the American collective imagination and for American self-

understandings? As argued above and by various others (Dittmer’s work specifically), Captain America

comics are widely consumed and have an incredibly high rate of recognition among the American public.

Captain America is only gaining in popularity with the massive success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe

and the Avengers franchise. He is everywhere.

Captain America is necessarily informed by society’s image of America – otherwise the books wouldn’t

sell. Discussions in the letter pages, on creator’s blogs, on online forums about how Captain America

should behave and what he represents are widespread and engaged. When people don’t like how he is

portrayed they are very vocal: see the massive outcry that occurred when Two Americas appeared to

target the Tea Party (Dittmer 2012), or the massive discussion in the mainstream media when Captain

America ‘died’ in 2007. The public are very protective over the character and the concept – they also don’t

all agree. Widely varying perspectives can and do coexist within the readership and within the creative

staff at Marvel.

Captain America and the American public appear to have a mutual, reciprocal relationship. Tensions in

the American identity (self-doubt, confusion) are articulated and resolved in the pages of Captain

America.

Captain America has always served as a challenge to American behaviour and policy. His very first

appearance in 1941 was written by two Jewish men who wanted the United States to enter the war.

Books like Truth: Red White and Black address uncomfortable realities about American history and force

readers to engage with them. Captain America is pro-gay marriage, liberal, critical of neoliberal capitalism

and, all things considered, is probably a Democrat with strong socialist leanings2. He is not a comfortable

character, and he is no conservative.

Nevertheless, Captain America is articulated through America myth and, as such, cannot escape the

trappings of it. While the character may be progressive in personality and beliefs, it is explicitly tied to a

commitment to American exceptionalism and a conceptualisation of America as a sovereign state. Captain

America then can only rearticulate American identity to the extent that it does not destabilise its own

narrative. These stories can challenge and question American behaviour, but always from within their

2 See this excellent essay by Steven Atwell on lefty politics, Steve Rogers’ origin and why Captain America has always been a socially progressive hero: http://www.lawyersgunsmoneyblog.com/2013/10/steven-attewell-steve-rogers-isnt-just-any-hero


own framework. Thus Captain America can challenge readers to be better Americans, but never challenges

the concept of America.

Conclusion I have argued that Captain America comic books can provide a valuable insight into the way the American

narrative and mythmaking are imagined and articulated in American cultural consciousness. I have

specifically analysed the way the text compensates for tensions between values (character) and actions,

how these tensions are exacerbated when parallel tensions in global politics are made clear, and how they

are resolved using reframing and retconning techniques so that continuity is preserved. Arguing that both

Captain America and the United States of America articulate American mythologies, and that both are

dominated by a need for coherence, stabilisation and continuity, I have further looked at reframing

techniques in political discourse as a mechanism for resolving identity crises and strengthening American

myth.

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America's Imaginary Friends: Identity, Myth Making and Captain America

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