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SHOULD BRUCE WAYNE HAVE BECOME BATMAN?
Mahesh Ananth and Ben Dixon
What to Do with So Much Time and Money?
Bruce Wayne, Batman’s alter ego, is rich—very rich. Forbes magazine’s list of the fifteen wealthiest fictional characters slots Wayne at number seven, estimating his net worth to be nearly seven billion dollars.1 Notably, Wayne was born into wealth, inheriting his parents’ fortune after their untimely deaths at the hands of a Gotham City criminal. So when twenty-five-year-old Wayne takes up the very expensive, very risky task of fighting for justice as Batman, he makes a moral judgment that doing so is an appropriate way to spend his time and his inherited wealth. He decides, essentially, that the right thing to do is honor his parents’ memory by cleaning up Gotham City’s crime. But is this the morally correct decision?
Not Going Gentle into That Dark Knight
Without warning it comes . . . crashing through the window of your study . . . and mine. . . . I have seen it before . . . somewhere . . . it frightened me as a boy . . . frightened me . . . yes. Father. I shall become a bat.
—Bruce Wayne, age twenty-five, from Batman: Year One (1987)
Batman: Year One’s first depiction of Wayne is visually macabre: a seven-year-old Wayne kneels helplessly before his parents, his blood-stained father clutching his mother’s shoulder, both parents lying strewn across the ground, motionless. A few pages later we see a grown-up Wayne kneeling before his parents once more, this time in front of their graves. Given his sorrowful expression and his hunched posture, Bruce’s pain over their murders appears not to have faded much in the years since. Indeed, the story quickly unmasks why Wayne, through his metamorphosis into Batman, decides that no resource should be spared to fight injustice. Following the examples set by his father, himself a wealthy heir and Gotham physician, Wayne must use his own keen intellect and his inherited wealth to make Gotham a better place.
Batman’s crime fighting is largely a way of paying homage to his deceased parents, as becomes clear in one of the more surreal scenes in Year One. A failed attempt at vigilantism has left Bruce wounded and nearly bleeding to death; sitting in his Wayne Manor study, he starts “speaking” to what appears to be a bust of his dead father, Thomas Wayne. The younger Wayne asks his father how he can terrify criminals so as to fight crime more successfully, and he makes clear that he has longed for such success since the night his parents were murdered—the night, he says, when “all sense left [his] life.” His recollection of the details of his parents’ final night is immediately followed by a bat shattering the window of his study, flying into the room, and landing atop the sculpture of his father. The incident stirs up terrifying memories of a childhood incident involving bats. Inspired by the bat, Wayne then and there decides to evoke similar terror in the hearts of Gotham criminals. Disguised as a bat, he will fight the scum of Gotham. The imagery and dialogue of this scene make obvious the close links between Wayne’s decision to become Batman, the loss of his parents, and the desire he has to respect his father’s memory by serving Gotham.2
“The Singer”: Batman’s First Real Nemesis
But is becoming Batman the morally best option for Wayne? At first glance, questioning the moral status of Wayne’s choice to live as Batman seems odd. Surely his decision to save crime-ridden Gotham City, a place that a newly arrived police lieutenant, James Gordon, dubs “a city without hope” (Year One), is not only commendable but reveals a high moral character. Upon close inspection, however, this characterization may be premature.
In his famous article “Famine, Affluence, and Morality,” the philosopher Peter Singer (b. 1946) argues that humans have a moral obligation to assist others who are suffering and dying due to a lack of basic needs, such as food, shelter, and medical care.3 Singer is a utilitarian. Utilitarianism is the moral theory that instructs us to perform those actions that will bring about the greatest good or least amount of evil for the greatest number of people, based upon the fact that all people are morally equal.4 Singer reasons that the following moral principle should clearly be part of our everyday thinking: “If it is in our power to prevent something bad from happening, without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance, we ought, morally, to do it.”
The usefulness and appeal of this principle can be illustrated by an example Singer gives involving a child drowning in a shallow pond. Imagine walking past this pond and observing the drowning child. You further see that it is quite easy for you to wade into the pond and save the child. Although your clothes will get muddy, the damage to your clothes and any other associated inconveniences are insignificant when compared to the life of the child, right? Thus, clearly you should rescue the child.
It appears that Singer’s moral principle accurately captures why anyone coming upon the drowning child should offer aid: one can save a life and do so at very little moral cost. What Singer wants us to consider, however, is that acceptance of this principle has profound implications for how we should live day-to-day. Notice that in much the same way as the person in the example can aid the child without sacrificing something of comparable moral worth, so too can affluent Westerners forgo certain luxuries in order to benefit those who are facing disasters, such as famine and treatable diseases. Clearly many of us do not identify ourselves as wealthy, and yet we are often awash in smaller luxuries like CDs, DVDs, name-brand clothing, and fine food. Singer’s moral principle forces us to determine whether enjoying these smaller luxuries is more important than saving human lives.
Let’s call Singer’s argument “the argument from prevention.” Basically, he is arguing that if suffering and death from a lack of food, shelter, and medical care are bad and if it is in our power to prevent such bad things from happening, then we as individuals ought, morally, to prevent such bad things. Given that this sort of suffering is bad and we can help, Singer thinks that it is indisputably the case that we, as individuals, ought to prevent such bad things from happening. Singer takes it to be true that suffering at the hands of starvation, disease, poor shelter, and such things, is bad. Indeed, he claims that if you disagree with the truth of this claim, then stop reading his article! For the sake of our discussion, we will assume (along with Singer) that this claim is true.
Now it’s important to understand Singer’s rendering of “giving.” Specifically, how much are we to give of ourselves in an effort to assist those in such great need? A young Wayne clearly decides to live some version of a sacrificial life, insofar as Batman’s nocturnal activities will aim at preventing the suffering and death of his fellow Gothamites. Surely this is enough sacrifice, right? But Singer’s own words as to “how much is enough” are startling:
One possibility [the strong version]. . . . is that we ought to give until we reach the level of marginal utility—that is, the level at which, by giving more, I would cause as much suffering to myself or my dependents as I would relieve by my gift. This would mean, of course, that one would reduce oneself to very near the material circumstances of [the starving poor]. [Alternatively,] I proposed the more moderate version—that we should prevent bad occurrences unless, to do so, we had to sacrifice something morally significant—only in order to show that, even on this surely undeniable principle, a great change in our way of life is required.5
Singer makes clear above that there are two versions of giving, a strong version and a moderate version (note that he is skeptical of the latter, but he is willing to adopt it for the sake of argument). The strong version claims that we’re morally obligated to give until we reach the point where we would cause as much suffering to ourselves as is present in those we are helping, unless in doing so we had to sacrifice something of comparable moral significance. The moderate version, in contrast, claims that we’re morally obligated to give until we reach the point at which we sacrifice something morally significant as a result of our degree of giving.
Batman versus the Singer: The Battle over Aiding Gotham
It’s unclear how much weight, if any, a young Wayne places on the option of giving away most or all of his inherited wealth. Perhaps an incident occurring later in his life gives some indication of his general attitude toward such charitable giving. The comic story A Death in the Family (1988), which chronicles the Joker’s killing of the second Robin (Jason Todd), includes a scene in which Bruce Wayne encounters famine-stricken refugees in Ethiopia. While reflecting on this human tragedy, Wayne thinks to himself: “The Refugees flock into the camps by the thousands each day. It’s utterly heartbreaking. When I return to Gotham, I’ll send out another check to help the effort and try to forget what I’ve seen here. I’m no different from anyone else. There’s only so much even Bruce Wayne—and Batman—can do.”
Notice Wayne’s skepticism as to how effective his donations can be, and also his desire to forget the suffering he sees in Ethiopia, a desire upon which he will act, presumably after he cuts yet another check. Were these general beliefs and attitudes present in Wayne’s thinking as a younger man? If so, and if they represent that which is both factual and morally permissible, perhaps they can help to meet the challenge Singer presents. That challenge is whether or not Wayne can become Batman in the light of either the strong version of giving or the moderate version of giving.
With respect to the strong version, the challenge is clear: Wayne must give away most of his income—including both his inheritance and his existing income from Wayne Enterprises—to those in dire need, unless he can show that what happens after he becomes Batman is of comparable moral worth. A utilitarian like Singer can acknowledge that if Wayne is successful as Batman—and that’s a very big if—he can provide a considerable amount of crime-fighting support for Gotham City, which likely will result in a reduction of some suffering. But such help likely pales in comparison to the benefits he can immediately bring to the masses of poor and needy around the world, especially considering the probability of his fortune’s being put to good use by a reputable aid organization. Again, this is opposed to the likelihood of success he will achieve dressing up as a bat, fighting bad guys wielding high-tech weaponry, and keeping up the facade of a billionaire playboy. The implication here is that Wayne cannot defend the choice to become Batman according to Singer’s strong version of giving.
Responding to the strong version, Wayne could acknowledge his moral obligation to give to the needy but insist that if he were to abandon the life of Batman, then he would be abandoning something of equal moral worth. Specifically, he may claim that his desire to honor his parents’ memory by benefiting Gotham reasonably counts as “equal moral worth.” Such a reply, if true, would perhaps allow him to become Batman and charitably assist the less fortunate.
Singer, however, has a reply to this argument based on two implications of his brand of utilitarianism. The first implication is that neither version of giving acknowledges the proximity or the distance of those who need help.6 The second implication is that neither version of giving entails the idea that giving to the starving is a matter of charity.7
In true utilitarian form, Singer makes clear that location, especially in our richly interactive global market, is irrelevant with respect to moral decision making. Every person morally counts as one, and that’s it. So, the suffering of Gotham’s “first-world” citizens at the hands of crime, while important, is outweighed by the needs of huge numbers of starving poor in impoverished nations facing certain death. Thus, Wayne’s familial ties to Gotham allow for no additional “points” in a utilitarian calculation that weighs harms versus benefits. The idea here is that Wayne cannot use the supposed rightness of honoring his parents’ memory by focusing on helping Gotham, even when it has the benefit of alleviating some suffering there, as any kind of trump against a utilitarian like Singer.
The knowledgeable fan, armed with a formidable grasp of the Batman mythology timeline, may wish to point out that once Wayne establishes himself as Batman, it’s not too long before he starts encountering villains who wish to cause destruction and suffering well beyond Gotham’s city limits. Like utilitarians, bad guys are not so concerned with proximity and distance, not when they realize there’s money and power to be had away from home! According to the sophisticated Batman fan, then, it is a bit unfair to say that Wayne’s efforts as Batman will benefit only Gothamites.
Remember, though, that in this chapter we are analyzing only Wayne’s initial decision to become Batman. What we want to know is whether that particular decision is morally reasonable from a certain moral theoretic perspective. Certainly utilitarianism will require Wayne to take a hard look at what will be the most reasonable way to utilize his vast resources given the knowledge he has at the time his young self is making this decision. Thus, it’s still the case that, very early on in Wayne’s decision making, the utilitarian will cast a skeptical eye on Wayne’s option of fighting crime as Batman.
Batman versus the Singer (Round Two): No Supererogatory Superheroes
What would Singer say to Wayne’s invoking a notion of charitable actions that are above and beyond the call of duty? Wayne could argue that his desire to honor his parents’ memory and the city his father once practically saved from ruin should have more than a modicum of moral legitimacy, so much so that his aid to others in need (outside of Gotham City) should be viewed as charity. In ethical terms, Wayne could insist that his charitable assistance to others is clearly supererogatory—that is, his charitable contributions should count as going beyond the call of duty. From this perspective, Wayne can claim himself not only to be moral and heroic, but also super-moral and super-heroic, to be acting beyond moral duty.
The utilitarian would reject this, however. Typically, according to utilitarianism, charitable or supererogatory acts do not exist because such acts, when all is said and done, turn out really to be obligatory anyway. Such acts are just plain “erogatory”! As another moral philosopher, Lawrence Hinman, writes, “One is always obligated to do the thing that yields the greatest amount of utility, and it is precisely this obligation that constitutes duty. . . . For the utilitarian, there is no room for supererogatory actions, for duty is so demanding that nothing above it is greater.”8
Singer thinks that at the very least, the moral weightiness of the suffering due to lack of food, shelter, and medical care is so great that efforts to alleviate it are not reducible to “charitable giving.”9 Thus, Wayne’s donations to alleviate such suffering, which could be greater, of course, if not for the costs of being Batman, constitute neither charity nor supererogation. It should be clear now that the utilitarian’s moral life is an exacting one—and this is precisely Singer’s point. Singer can ultimately reply to Wayne, then, that his argument from prevention remains untouched by Wayne’s counterarguments. So, based upon the strong version of giving, Wayne is morally obligated to abandon becoming Batman in favor of giving his fortune to the needy. If he chooses to ignore the strong version of giving, then his choice to become Batman and his corresponding actions will be viewed as immoral from this utilitarian perspective.
In terms of the moderate version of giving, Wayne would have to show that he’s justified in giving only to the point at which he doesn’t have to sacrifice his life as Batman and all that comes with this life—a life that he would have to argue is morally significant. The problem here is that it’s not clear (even in Singer’s analysis) what necessarily counts as “morally significant.” One could argue that our many luxuries in life are morally significant because they provide a degree of happiness. Clearly, some constraints on what counts as “morally significant” are needed to avoid the implication that any luxury valued is of moral significance. Following Singer’s lead, we suggest that something should count as “morally significant” if and only if such a possession brings about happiness for oneself and its cost does not prevent substantial reduction of suffering for those in dire poverty.
So according to this definition people are allowed to keep a portion of their material gain as a result of their way of life, but they must relinquish some of it to assist others. In keeping with the spirit of Singer’s account, however, the definition rules out (for the most part) the acquisition of many “frivolous” material items, because they are likely to come at the expense of reducing a substantial amount of suffering for those living in famine-stricken nations.
The Singer’s Victory: Letting the Light of Reason Illuminate the Bat-Cave
In response to Singer, Wayne could offer a reasonable defense of his choice to become Batman by way of both the moderate version of giving and the definition of “morally significant.” First, the fact that he’s able to save many people’s lives and provide security to Gotham City makes clear that his way of life is (in general) morally significant. After all, even if he achieves only minor successes, his efforts reduce suffering and death, precisely what Singer clearly identifies as morally significant. Second, it’s clear that the income Wayne receives from Wayne Enterprises offers him the kind of financial security and technology to become the Dark Knight, and also allows him to give to the needy through the Wayne Foundation. So, although Wayne goes to great financial lengths to conceal his identity as Batman and come off as a lazy playboy, his expenditures are allowable, indeed necessary, to his morally significant way of living. Thus, Wayne could defend his choice to become Batman as a morally acceptable choice within the domain of the moderate version of giving.
Despite the moderate version’s possible validation of Wayne’s decision to become Batman, Singer does not really see any reason for privileging it over the strong version. He writes:
I can see no good reason for holding the moderate version of the principle rather than the strong version. Even if we accepted the principle only in its moderate form, however, it should be clear that we would have to give away enough to ensure that the consumer society, dependent as it is on people spending on trivia rather than giving to famine relief, would slow down and perhaps disappear entirely.10
This dissatisfaction isn’t surprising, given Singer’s status as a true utilitarian. Typically, utilitarianism has a maximizing/ minimizing element, such that what is moral is bringing about the greatest good, or the least bad, for the greatest number. The moderate version of giving is really not utilitarian (traditionally speaking) in nature; therefore, the invocation of the moderate version to support the decision to become Batman isn’t the same thing as invoking a Singer-type utilitarianism in support of it.
But there is another reason why Bruce Wayne’s decision runs afoul of utilitarianism, and this reason has stalked Bruce’s choice from the beginning: the fact that he looks to the past to justify becoming Batman. For a utilitarian, however, the relevant aspect of an action is tied to its consequences in the future, so they would not approve of Bruce’s looking to his parents’ deaths and their commitment to Gotham City as sufficient reasons to fight crime. Only beneficial consequences in the future could justify Bruce’s decision, and we’ve already cast a lot of doubt on that! Once again, “the Singer’s” utilitarian arguments would force Bruce Wayne to jettison his morally charged memories, sell his rudimentary bat costume and utility belt, and give away virtually all his money to the starving poor.
But This Ruins Everything!
If you are a fan of the Batman character, like us, you probably don’t like the possibility of young Bruce Wayne’s acting on utilitarian advice and never becoming Batman. “It is much too demanding and thus unreasonable,” you may think to yourself. But utilitarianism represents a powerful way of approaching morally difficult problems, especially when those problems present a choice between sacrificing the well-being of a great number of persons, and sacrificing some good that involves fewer persons, even when some of those few are loved ones.
In fact, a mature Bruce Wayne, as Batman, sometimes invokes utilitarian thinking when approaching such problems. Recall, for example, the time when the Joker stole medical supplies and replaced them with his deadly laughing gas, looking to leave his mark by wiping out an entire Ethiopian refugee camp. Having discovered the Joker’s plot, Batman must intercept the convoy of trucks carrying the Joker’s deadly cargo. However, in deciding to pursue the trucks, he must leave Robin (aka Jason Todd) behind, knowing that his protégé may very likely be hurt or killed by the Joker. In deciding to leave Robin, Batman makes a moral choice between saving hundreds of persons in immediate danger or remaining with his friend and partner, Robin, to face the Joker. Thus, Batman chose to prevent the death and suffering of the greater number of persons; as Batman puts it to himself, “I didn’t have any choice, really” (A Death in the Family).
It’s ironic that this very way of thinking would have prevented Wayne from becoming Batman in the first place! Perhaps what this illustrates, though, is how tempting it is to invoke utilitarianism when difficult moral choices present themselves, choices that involve harm that is so great, so immediate, and so palpable, that we feel tremendous rational pressure to alleviate that harm. But Peter Singer’s point is that such harms are constantly occurring all around us. Internalizing this fact within our own minds presents us with a difficult moral choice: should we emulate the younger Bruce Wayne and privilege our commitments to those closest to us while pursuing our own self-interests? Or, like the older Wayne, should we be prepared to sacrifice the well-being of those very same persons, including our own, by trying to do the greatest good for the greatest number of persons?
NOTES
1 Michael Noer and David M. Ewalt, “The Forbes Fictional Fifteen,” Forbes.com, Nov. 20, 2006: September 28, 2007. See: http://www.forbes.com/2006/11/20/forbes-fictional-richest-tech-media_cx_mn_de_06fict15_ intro. html.
2 Regarding Batman mythology, our understanding of Bruce Wayne’s decision to become Batman is informed by Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One and the movie it inspired, Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins (2005), which similarly displays Bruce Wayne’s loyalties to his slain parents.
3 Peter Singer, “Famine, Affluence, and Morality,” Philosophy and Public Affairs 1, no. 3 (Spring 1972): 229-243.
4 See John Stuart Mill, Utilitarianism (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2005).
5 Singer, “Famine, Affluence,” 241.
6 Ibid., 231.
7 Ibid., 235.
8 Lawrence M. Hinman, Ethics: A Pluralistic Approach to Moral Theory (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2003), 143.
9 Singer, “Famine, Affluence,” 235.
10 Ibid., 241.