Furthermore, it is worth noting how different age demographics interpret and celebrate heroism. The youth of today, for example, have not experienced loss (due to fighting), or have suffered it only indirectly and can, therefore, be more casual about witnessing the latest take of heroism at the cinema. However, the older generation, those that fought or were bereaved, often commemorate their loved ones in an entirely different manner. Indeed, there are numerous mediums in which perceptions of heroism can be formed. For instance, portraits by John Singleton Copley (‘Death of Major Pierson’) and West (‘Death of General Wolfe’) provide striking and emotive images of soldiers mourning the death of a hero. Similarly, a heroic protagonist often characterises poetry and literature relating to war. Yet, arguably the most popular form of commemoration stills seems to be the monument. Thousands regularly flock their local tributes to pay respect on Remembrance Day. Peter Hagin defined the concept of heroism by saying, “The hero, identifiable with the seriousness of the cause, had to be a character that could be worshipped and praised together with the end he toiled for” (2). Thus, although more attention is naturally attributed to well-known figures of warfare, ultimately, every soldier, even, “those who fought and died without questioning the reason why”(3) is celebrated in some form or another.
The portrayal of heroism tends to be lent a somewhat parochial and romantic dimension. For example, the legendary stories of Ancient Greece, such as Theseus and the Minotaur, and Perseus and Medusa are, indeed, famous because of the way in which they are depicted. Almost inevitably, and resulting from hundreds of years of retelling the stories, the heroes are projected in a favourable way, emanating commitment, dedication and bravery, coupled alongside handsome good looks and grace. Such men are admired and copied, the backbone to Greek society. An obvious requirement needed for an interesting story is a formidable enemy, a foe that will challenge the limits of the protagonist’s heroism. For example, the Minotaur, an intimidating amalgamation of man and beast who inhabited a huge cave in Crete and who twice a year received women from neighbouring shores, was the foe of Theseus, our heroic character who later maimed the Minotaur and, significantly, saved the vulnerable women. Similarly, in the Trojan War, Achilles was opposed by Hector, both fighters that were skilled and dangerous swordsmen yet the latter, having been slain, was then further humiliated by being draped around the walls of Troy. Finally, Perseus’ enemy came in the form of the Gorgon Medusa, a vile creature with snakes for hair, and who, with just one stare, could turn a man to stone. In a cantankerous and battle-hardened country such as Greece, the constituents felt compelled to justify why they were constantly fighting, by celebrating protagonists that were seen to epitomise the typical Greek man. In doing so, these greatly exaggerated myths set the standards by which all other Greeks had to match. As always in a time of war, the public has to be motivated by a hero, someone who can perform near-impossible tasks and conquer almost any obstacle, while never surrendering their dignity and grace. They become almost God-like characters and inspire their fellow men to emulate and adhere to their behaviour.
As was previously alluded to, there has been a notable transition in how heroism is celebrated, moving from the solitary celebration of the archtypical protagonist, to the broader recognition attributed to the average soldier, a movement started by the mass human loss of the two World Wars. However, following on from their Ancient Greek predecessors, the Roman and Middle Ages continued to highlight individual heroism, with leaders of a country building statues dedicated to their bravery, having just won an important battle or war. The exact cost, in human and financial terms, remained of secondary importance to the people, whose ambivalence was overshadowed by their pride in victory. For example, after annexing yet another European country, Capitoline Hill in Rome was to be where the Roman Caesar Marcus Aurelius was honoured, with an imposing statue erected to celebrate his efforts. A notable and significant characteristic of the statues is the inclusion of the hero mounted upon a horse, a trend that was to continue for many centuries, up until the vast progression of military artillery made men on horseback gravely obsolete. Indeed, the presence of a horse lends an almost mystical and fearsome element to the perceptions on heroism; “a noble yet arrogant beast…mastered by the hero on its back” (4); reinforcing imaginary interpretations of a battling protagonist. Furthermore, in-keeping with how the man is perceived to be graceful and honourable, the horse similarly shares such qualities.
