By Massud Alemi
February 1997
The Iranian

My Hero died saving the people of a small village: men, women and small children. He gave his life, so that they could live on. Easier said than done, you might say. Yet, there are lingering questions in my mind, about the way my Hero laid down his life for others, haunting me on sleepless nights.

Is the conviction with which one acts heroically a sort of anti-life energy that deactivates the pro-life potential, in the inner layers of a hero's self? And another: What decides the essence of a hero? The fact that a man, or a woman, voluntarily, offers his life for a cause, or the objective to which he commits himself? No myth provides the answer.

Heroism, I like to think, is an idea very much like intelligence. This puts me somewhat at odds with the myth-makers of olden times. The grandiose images they drew of heroes are so breath-takingly awesome, you can hardly begin examining them with a cool head.

But what is a real hero? Conversely, what is an imaginary hero? Upon careful examination of their lives and loves, one almost always comes to the conclusion that something about a hero's life is out of joint.

The hero, especially one who doesn't live past his/her heroic actions, to me seems a broken-spirited individual who is bored with life itself, although his deed inspires life in all its glory.

I've come to realize that life gives only what it has, and it has only what it is itself: life. Who would wash his hands of sweet life, if it were not for praise? Isn't glory bestowed upon a hero, a form of compensation for the pain and grief of losing his/her life? These are the problems we cannot deal with in abstract.

Other problems my Hero's death presents: What is Pride? Perseus cut off Medusa's head; yes, Hercules was the strongest man on earth; yes, but . . . Could Mister Theseus perform a feat like the one my Hero has accomplished?

Unexampled bravery is nowhere to be found as fierce and selfless. Until now, it had never occurred to me that life and pride could and in fact do so poignantly collude with each other so deceitfully.

Also, on a final note, I couldn't on the life of me believe that neither Life nor Pride, two fundamental elements of the universe, independently exist on their own, by any ontological standard; but both preternaturally include elements of truth.

What would one entail without the other?

* Also by Massud Alemi
* In front of the embassy

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