You’re Not a Hero, and That’s Okay

The title of this piece is addressed to an obviously general audience, and there will, of course, be a few exceptions to the statement. But that’s the entire point, isn’t it: there are, in truth, very few exceptions to it. Society, especially contemporary society, has very few heroes, but the miniscule number of them doesn’t stop people from granting untold numbers of people with such a grand title.

This community—the community of service members and veterans—is often praised as being comprised entirely of heroes, but this is far from correct. Most men and women in uniform are just that: men and women in uniform, doing a job. Truthfully, the bulk of service members will never be presented with a situation during which they must demonstrate the characteristics of a hero. Whether this is good or bad is not a question that need be asked. We assume each member of the military is prepared to give the ultimate sacrifice if such a moment arises, but the hypothetical demonstration of heroism does not bestow upon one the title. This fact is so clear to us even when it is obfuscated by cynicism and praise from those who know no better. Our community awards heroism with physical symbols and tokens that tell everyone present what they have done, and these tokens could hardly to be said to be issued out with impunity.

Is there one of us who can say that they don’t feel the slightest sense of awe upon meeting one awarded a silver star? A service cross? The medal of honor? What it requires of a man or woman to be awarded such things stirs a kind of admiration seated deep within the human soul, and it should. They demonstrate qualities that all should attempt to emulate: selflessness, strength—physical and mental—and bravery (yet another term that has lost any semblance of true meaning as of late). These are heroes, and they are in short supply precisely because heroes are a truly special breed of people. I remember being invited to attend the funeral of a medal of honor recipient in Colorado several years ago, and I couldn’t help but feel that the world had lost something undeniably unique. Looking toward the center of the front row, a number of other medal of honor recipients sat together, wishing their brother safe travels in the thereafter.

But such minimizing of what it means to be a hero is not limited to the military. Over the past year and a half countless numbers of people have been haphazardly tossed onto the list. Doctors, nurses, police officers, firefighters, emergency medical technicians, and teachers (of all groups). Yet, there is absolutely nothing inherently heroic in any of these vocations. Truth be told, most of these individuals are simply working a job of which they have chosen, several of them picking said work based, at least in part, on how easy the job is—teachers certainly come to mind. Of course, those working in uniformed services have opportunities to demonstrate heroism, the issue is exactly the same as that of the military: the hypothetical situation that may or may not occur does not de facto make one a hero. And, like the military, organizations like police departments, fire departments, and EMS have awards to recognize such acts of gallantry, too. My father received an LEO silver star during his time as an officer in the twin cities many years ago.

See, the term hero is loaded with an almost rigid list of connotations, not the least of which is a sense that those identified as heroes have performed something incredibly admirable, brave, and selfless. And bravery, itself, invokes images of danger or risk of harm to oneself that is overcome. Surely the everyday teacher is not acting in such a fashion. And I know of no doctors or nurses refusing to take every single precaution possible to ensure their own safety as they perform their everyday duties. But then, in both cases, we have few—very, very few—examples who stand out as heroes. The teachers who shield their students from gunfire, who are terribly wounded or killed in the process, no one would deny them such a title.

The point is that by painting large swaths of the population with such a grand term, we effectively tear from it all meaning, and in the case of “heroes” it is a particularly egregious destruction of language. We need our heroes. Each individual and society as a whole needs heroes. They are examples to be followed, people to look up to, scales to be measured against, and symbols of the best that can exist within us all. By calling too many undeserving people heroes is to destroy the living and dead who can actually be held up as monuments of heroism.

Finally, I would like to make a quick point with a short anecdote.

In January 2012 I PCS’d to Fort Carson, Colorado. A few months later, a new NCO arrived. As in most situations involving PCS’s, many of us didn’t know this guy from Adam. He was a nice guy, knew his job—we were all cavalry scouts—and he got along with all the other NCOs and, more importantly, his soldiers. Months later I happen to be going to an appointment, and sitting on a table was an issue of a magazine put out by Boeing highlighting stories of heroism, telling the stories of the heroes involved. As I flipped through the pages, I came across one that made me double-take. The photograph was terrible. The man had his stetson on, the shadow from the brim casted down over most of his face, but I could make out the unit patch and the name on the uniform. After my appointment, I took that magazine and brought it back to the CP. “This is you, isn’t it?” I asked the NCO upon returning, and he smiled and shook his head. “Nah, man. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded. However, his secret could only be kept so long, as the unit began conducting payday activities, during which, on the first Friday of the month, each soldier was required to wear their dress uniforms. And there, pinned to his chest at the top of his rack of ribbons, sat his silver star.

What is the point of sharing this story? Well, heroes don’t usually proclaim themselves as heroes, do they? They don’t expect adulation or for those around to pile upon them accolades and praise. They are humble. There is an understanding somewhere within them that it was the time, the place, and some overwhelming sense within them in that time and at that place that caused them to act. What does this say about those expecting to be called heroes?