By Scott T. Allison and George R. Goethals

“We have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; and where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.”

— Joseph Campbell, The Hero With a Thousand Faces

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We begin with a day in the life of early humans.

Life is hard. Lifespans are short. An early death is the norm, either from disease or from danger. At night, tribes huddle around fires for warmth, food, safety, and security. But they also gather around community fires for something else that is nearly as important.

They come to hear stories.

The elders of the tribe know that because life is nasty, brutish, and short (to borrow a phrase from Thomas Hobbes), the members of the tribe are afraid. Those members – many of them sick, hungry, injured, or tired — seek some understanding of their misery, some sense of meaning to buoy their spirits.

As the elders begin reciting their stories, the huddled masses seated around the fires, in desperate need of comforting, lean forward in eager anticipation. They may not be consciously aware of what they need from these stories, but their need is strong nevertheless.

The stories told by the elders are hero stories. They tell of ordinary men who are called to go on great journeys or who face formidable life challenges. The protagonists in these stories are described as small, weak underdogs who must transform themselves in important ways to overcome long odds to succeed. These heroes receive assistance from enchanted and unlikely sources. Remarkable cunning and courage are required for these men to triumph. Once successful, these heroes return to their original tribe to bestow a boon to the entire community.

As tribe members soak in these inspiring hero stories, they themselves are affected in profoundly positive ways. Thanks to these stories, fears are allayed. Hopes are nourished. Important values of strength and resilience have been underscored. Life now has greater purpose and meaning.

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Today’s humans are no different from early humans in their thirst for heroes and heroic leadership. The attraction to greatness in other human beings is as strong as ever. Our goal here is to outline a set of psychological events responsible for the powerful and inescapable allure of strong heroic figures.

We propose that a complex web of phenomena exist that capture the human drive to create heroes in our minds and hearts, in storytelling, in our behavior, and in virtually every crevice of every human culture. We call this web of phenomena the Heroic Leadership Dynamic.

We use the term dynamic, and its multiple meanings, intentionally. In its noun form, dynamic refers to an interactive system or process. Used as an adjective, dynamic describes this system or process as energizing and always in motion, a system that drives people toward heroes and toward hero storytelling.

We argue that the human desire to generate heroes implicates a complex system of psychological forces all geared toward developing heroes, retaining them as long as they prove psychologically useful and, yes, even discarding heroes when they’ve outlived their usefulness.

The Heroic Leadership Dynamic can almost be described as a story in itself, with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

At the beginning sits our craving for heroes, borne out of a longing for an understanding of the vicissitudes of life. Our early ancestors gathered around fires at night for reasons that went far beyond the physical benefits produced by fire. We propose that for these early humans, the drive to create heroism in their minds, in their stories, and in their culture was as necessary for their mental and emotional well-being as the fire was for their physical well-being.

And we suggest that humans today are no different at all.

Our human craving for heroes, our need for the psychological benefits that heroes offer, and our desires over time either to retain our heroes or to repudiate them, all comprise the constellation of phenomena that are implicated in the Heroic Leadership Dynamic.

And yes, an important part of the dynamic — maybe the most important  — is that it offers a framework for understanding the drive that all of us have to become heroes ourselves, given the right circumstances.

This series is based on a chapter in our book, Conceptions of Leadership, published by Palgrave Macmillan. The citation for this chapter:

Allison, S. T., & Goethals, G. R. (2014). “Now he belongs to the ages”: The heroic leadership dynamic and deep narratives of greatness. In Goethals, G. R., et al. (Eds.), Conceptions of leadership: Enduring ideas and emerging insights. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. doi: 10.1057/9781137472038.0011

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By Scott T. Allison and George R. Goethals

Most social scientists define heroism as exceptional pro-social behavior that is voluntary and involves risk and self-sacrifice.  Although we respect that definition and recognize its value, we take a more subjective approach in defining a hero.

If you haven’t read our first heroes book, our definition of a hero is based on our research on people’s stated choices of heroes. We’ve asked many hundreds of people to tell us who their heroes are, and why. From our data it’s pretty clear that heroism is in the eye of the beholder. Preferences for heroes are as varied as people’s taste in music, movies, and paintings. Defining a hero is like defining a good meal at a restaurant. It depends on your values, your personal experiences, and maybe even the current developmental stage of your life.

Cancer victims name cancer survivors as their heroes. Soccer players list soccer stars as their heroes. In short, your needs and motives determine whom you choose as heroes. Maturity and development play a role in hero selection, with younger people tending to choose heroes known for their talents, physical skills, and celebrity status. Older people tend to favor moral heroes. As we get older and wiser, our tastes in heroes evolve. Some have suggested that with age and wisdom, our choice of heroes improves — perhaps as we get older we become more discriminating and more respectful of the term “hero”.

The point we wish to make is that every person we have profiled in this blog is someone’s hero. We didn’t choose the heroes whom we profile on this blog — you did. Each hero may not be your personal hero, but he or she is somebody’s hero, and the reasons are valid and meaningful to the person holding them.

Even Joseph Campbell, the great mythologist and founder of the study of heroes, acknowledged that heroism is in the eye of the beholder. Campbell said, “You could be a local god, but for the people whom that local god conquered, you could be the enemy. Whether you call someone a hero or a monster is all relative….” (The Power of Myth, p. 156).

The World War II German soldier who died, said Campbell, “is as much a hero as the American soldier who was sent over there to kill him.” Campbell believed that the moral objective of heroism “is that of saving a people, saving a person, or supporting an idea.”

Although we agree with Campbell, and others, that heroism is in the eye of the beholder, we will never profile people such as Adolf Hitler in our blog, even if Hitler is considered heroic to small segment of society. There are some people whose values are so repugnant to us, and to the reasonable majority, that we will never profile them here.

We’ve found that people’s beliefs about heroes tend to follow a systematic pattern. After polling a number of people, we discovered that heroes are perceived to be highly moral, highly competent, or both. More specifically, heroes are believed to possess eight traits, which we call The Great Eight. These traits are smart, strong, resilient, selfless, caring, charismatic, reliable, and inspiring. It’s unusual for a hero to possess all eight of these characteristics, but most heroes have a majority of them.

As authors of this blog, we do have our own personal heroes. Our heroes combine great selflessness with great ability. In our second heroes book we call heroes of this type Traditional Heroes. One of us  (Scott Allison) identifies Roberto Clemente his greatest hero.  Clemente was a great baseball player who died helping earthquake victims. The other of us (George Goethals) calls Abraham Lincoln his greatest hero. Lincoln showed remarkable heroic leadership while healing a divided nation and freeing slaves.

When we were younger, a person didn’t have to be particularly moral or selfless to be a hero to us. The person just had to be a star athlete or great rock star.  We’ve outgrown this type of hero, which we call a Transitional Hero. Now our heroes have to accomplish far more than show great ability. They must also perform some exemplary action in the service of others.

Our research has also found that there are at least 12 functions of heroism. Heroes give us hope, heroes energize us, heroes develop us, heroes heal us, heroes impart wisdom, heroes are role models for morality, heroes offer safety and protection, heroes give us positive emotions, heroes give us meaning and purpose, heroes provide social connection and reduce loneliness, heroes help individuals achieve personal goals, and heroes help society achieve societal goals.

We will certainly continue to welcome any debates about the validity of our contentions in this blog. Critiques about the hero-worthiness of a particular individual may sharpen our thinking about who are the special men and women among us who deserve the term “hero” associated with their names. In the mean time, let’s honor the diversity of opinion out there about who our heroes are. We’re all in a different place in life, and our heroes shift and evolve as we ourselves shift and evolve.

UPDATE June 2024 — We’ve recently published the Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. In it, we describe our current thinking about the definition of heroism.

References

Allison, S. T. (Ed.) (2022). The 12 functions of heroes and heroism. Richmond: Palsgrove.

Allison, S. T. (2023). Definitions and descriptions of heroism. In S. T. Allison, J. K. Beggan, and G. R. Goethals (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. New York: Springer.

Allison, S. T., & Goethals, G. R. (2011). Heroes: What They Do & Why We Need Them.  New York: Oxford University Press.

Allison, S. T., & Goethals, G. R. (2025). Heroic Leadership: An Influence Taxonomy of 100 Exceptional Individuals. New York: Routledge.

Campbell, J. (1988). The Power of Myth. (with Bill Moyers).

By Steve Hutchins

Once upon a time, I was a young man. And I had some vanity. Don’t we all . . . .

I had every hair color and style under the rainbow. I knew I was a faggot, even then, and I was trying to craft myself into an image that I was attracted to. So stupid. But I was a kid.

One day, I followed my favorite hair stylist into Quincy, Massachusetts. That was cool for me; my comic book shop was in Quincy. I could get my hair done, get my monthly “stash”. It all worked. I boarded the bus and made my way. Those were the days. I was wearing my favorite long coat. It was like a trench coat, but made of wool. I wore that coat for years. Wore it out, in fact.

I ended up beside a man who was, I guess, what would be called “troubled”. I’m sure you’ve met people like this before: it’s clear something isn’t quite right, but it’s difficult to define exactly what. He started talking to me. Just talking. My Mum would kill me, but me, I’ve always had a good handle on whether I’m in danger or not. At sixteen, yes, she would have killed me.

He said to me: “You must be a businessman.”

I said, “What? Me? No!”

“Well, I saw that coat and I thought you must be a businessman.”

I replied, “Not me. It’s a nice coat, but I’m just a kid.”

As impressed as he may have been with my coat, that wasn’t really his agenda. He wanted to talk. And he just kept talking. And I kept listening.

He was fixated on his childhood. He mentioned he was spending time in an institution in Quincy. Yes, a psychological institution. He spoke much about marijuana. Even then, it didn’t mean a thing. Ryan Murphy provided my latest cliché’ in American Horror Story: Asylum: “I don’t judge, Jude. I never judge.”

At one point in this man’s conversation, I happened to look across the bus at the other passengers. They were looking at me the same way they were looking at him. Time delivers some perspective. I was a child. These adults judged me, words unspoken, upon my casual association. It was, as if, well, you must be crazy, too, to be talking to him. I never forgot that feeling nor how unfair that was.

Was I that guy’s hero? And will I ever know? It was a time and a place in space and a circumstance and a mood and. . . well, clearly no one else on that bus was willing to talk to that man. Why not? It costs you. . . what? Respecting someone costs nothing.

I’m not sure why I’m telling this story. It was one of few defining moments in my life, but I haven’t told it in a very long time. I suppose my point is that I had been picked on, as every kid has, but that was kid stuff and I’ve always handled bullies well.

But, when those passengers on that bus looked at me, I realized that poor man was looked down upon like that every day of his life. It wasn’t a moment for him. It wasn’t a cute little story he could tell years later. He was harmless. All he wanted was an ear to bend, that’s all.

I suppose my point isn’t that my ears easily bend, but, rather, why is what I did such a difficult thing for most people? Who is the hero here? That stupid kid, sparing scant minutes of his life to listen, or that troubled guy fighting every day to live a better life? I never forgot that moment. It’s been thirty years now.

We have to try to help others where we can. Life wouldn’t make much sense otherwise.

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Steve Hutchins supports heroism in all its forms and resides in Whitman, Massachusetts.