Tag: Myths

  • An Initiation Into Heroic Imperialism

    An Initiation Into Heroic Imperialism

    Content Notes: Discussions of Anti-Semitism, Colonisation, Racism and Sexism

    In the previous essay, we covered the broad strokes of how The Hero’s Journey rose to fame, alongside its lionised author, Joseph Campbell. Today, we will focus on how anthropologists, folklorists, and the groups he takes from, view the infamous man himself. And how he contorts academia and marginalised beliefs, to fuel his own fantasy.

    A Minefield of Malapropisms

    I want to initiate this dissection of The Hero Journey, with a more technical and nitpicky aspect to Campbell’s errors. Partially to ease us in to his more bigoted beliefs, and partially to indicate how he can’t even get the innocuous parts correct. Alan Dundes, as part of a larger talk on the crisis of folklore studies, commented on how Campbell led to a swelling of amateurs with no background in relevant academia trying to understand mythology.[1]

    Now, I am not the most diehard fan of this talk, as his understanding of feminist theory is remedial at best. But I believe one of his points helps underpin just how little research Campbell did. Throughout The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Campbell calls all the stories he uses myths. Every. Single. One. Even I, a person with an amateurish knowledge on folk tales, picked up on this. See, there is a difference between folklore, myths, legends and fairy tales.

    Fairies and Their Sun-Bath by Frances Griffiths and Elsie Wright
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia
    Note: BEHOLD!!!! A MYTH

    Dundes, who quite literally wrote the 1965 book on folklore, defines it as any form of shared story, knowledge or proverb, specific to a group of people.[2] He is deliberately vague in this definition, both because he uses folklore as an umbrella term for things like legends and myths. And because folk can mean: ethnic groups, racialised groups, groups of occupation, neighbourhoods and more. Think of how tales can spread of a cursed building within a particular company, or a street is haunted with a ghostly woman. It would be inaccurate to attribute these to individual countries, as they are significantly more localised.

    Within this context, a myth is type of folklore that is typically adopted by a extensive section of the folk, as a fundamental story. [2] They do not have to believe in the 100% veracity of the tale. Instead the myth can become foundational to the folk’s customs and create a metaphorical understanding of the world around them. This can include creation myths, like people being made from clay by Viracocha. Or national myths, such as Rome originating from two boys raised by wolves.

    A legend tends to possess a more temporal and geographical anchor.[2] Foundational myths especially, have a tendency to be more loose with their connection to material reality. However, if you are cursed to be British, when I mention Lady Godiva, you likely think of Medieval Coventry. Like myths, legends are not always necessarily believed as factual. Though they can still become deeply associated with smaller areas or subsets of people, including how they view their own identity. For example, Lady Godiva began the time honoured British tradition of public streaking as protest.

    Lady Godiva (2022) by Volgio Bene
    Retrieved From: VolgioBeneArt.com

    Finally (at least for our purposes), there are fairy tales or fables. A fairy tale is distinct from legends and myths, more in the fundamental method of transmission. The latter are usually oral, passed down through generations and disseminated by word of mouth.[2] A fairy tale is often written down and can be traced to a sole author, although many are iterated upon or shift in meaning as they pass into different cultures.[3]

    The point of this digression is to demonstrate the complexity involved in the study of folklore. As well, these definitions, whilst seemingly pretty wide spread are not universal. Different academics will express slight or major disagreements. And, quite like psychology, there is a mountain of essays and counter essays detailing a rich pinpointing of specific meaning and language with these terms. My definitions are admittedly simplistic, but Campbell’s are even more so.

    He compresses all of these forms of folklore and more into myth, simply because it has the most grandiose sound to it.[4] When we think of myths, we think of Greeks and Romans, of scandalous stories and brilliant battles. They are the most mysterious and captivating, at least to people like Campbell. But, in doing so he compresses the intracies of these stories and is forced to twist their narratives.

    Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022) by Rian Johnson
    Retrieved From: Know Your Meme

    In a way, his aggrandisement of these tales could be seen as noble. If you were squinting and the sun was in your eyes as a fork got stuck in one of your eyeballs. If that isn’t happening, then you’ll presumably see Campbell’s bolstering as rather fetishistic. Though to be fair, Campbell did a lot worse than the simple flattening and overselling of cultural touchstones.

    A Skeleton Made Up Of Racist Bones

    I am not going to beat around the bush here. Campbell was a racist. Unequivocally so. Both in his work and his personal life. We will start with the latter as it is moderately more blatant. In an excellent review by Roger Echo-Hawk, a well-regarded Pawnee historian, he outlines many of Campbell’s links to eugenics and white supremacy.[5] An great quote to start us off is Campbell’s view on Indo-Aryans:

    the most productive, as well as philosophically mature, constellation of peoples in the history of civilization had been associated with this prodigious ethnic diffusion…” [5]

    The Indo-Aryans are an ethnic group within Central and South Asia. They were utilised by pre-cursors of Nazis, Nazis themselves and organizations inspired by them. It’s where the idea of Aryans in these contexts originates from. Although I want to stress, none of this is the fault of Indo-Aryans themselves. Crowds of Western European scientists, philosophers and historians, projected their ideals of civilisation onto these people, using them as background for the true superiority of the white race. Therefore, Campbell reflecting such ideas is certainly damning. And it gets worse.

    Campbell had associates actively involved in the eugenics movement, that is, the belief in scientific breeding to create a superior people. One such example was Carlton Coon, a chairman of the International Association for the Advancement of Ethnology and Eugenics.[5] On top of that he was a prestigious anthropologist, who published a book called The Origin of Races. Which, as you can imagine, was a runaway hit amongst racists. So much so, Coon was lambasted at the time and literally sued newspapers who quoted his supporters racist beliefs.

    And Campbell, cited this man in his book, The Masks of God.[5] Never making any mention of the very well-known scandal about Coon’s book and racist viewpoints. This would not be the lone horrific figure Campbell quoted.

    T.S. Eliot (1923), Photographed by Lady Ottoline Morrell
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia
    Note: A man so constantly confused by context and women, he simply can’t seem to understand the idea of a woman with a camera.

    To justify his totally apolitical, rational view of mythic heroes, he recounts writings from Ezra Pound and T.S Eliot.[6] The former was a literal Italian Fascist in the 1930s and the latter was a divine right royalist. Eliot also was a part of the New Criticism movement, which believed that all literature should be critiqued without extraneous context. Wonder why that sounds familiar.

    If that is not enough, later in his life, Campbell was invited to join Mankind Quarterly by Roger Pearson. Pearson was a lifelong proponent of Nordic racial supremacy, a term I hope I don’t need to elucidate the problems with. As well, Mankind Quarterly published work quoted in The Bell Curve, the most infamously racist academic book from the 20th century. And Campbell accepted the invitation to be a part of Mankind Quarterly.

    Even defenders of Campbell showed how awful the man really was. In a comment that feels like it was ripped out of a Ben Shapiro rant, an associate of his wrote that Campbell admired:

    intellectuals who saw Western Civilisation as threatened by the rot of decadence.”[5]

    Adding onto this Campbell apparently thought that:

    the left-wing, liberal, Jewish, Communist point of view was part of the degeneration.”[5]

    Speaking of anti-semitism, Campbell seemed to revel in his hatred for the Jewish people and faith. A remarkable feat considering that Sarah Lawrence College, where he taught, had a strong Jewish faculty.[6][7] Robert Segal recounts how Campbell publicly expressed his pernicious hatred of Judaism. In one instance of raving at a Jewish student, he stated that the God of the Hebrew Bible was completely evil and he had moved out of the Bronx in New York to get away from Jewish people.[7]

    I’d like to say, as Robert Ellwood and other biographers frequently try to, that Campbell’s work was not mired by his horrific views. Actually thats a lie. The more I learn about Campbell, the more a twisted relief manifests whenever I get to vent about his writing. Because despite how prolific his prose is, it is so clearly poisonous as to have a toxic cloud in the shape of a skull appear whenever you turn a page. So hold your breath as we turn a new leaf.

    The Flesh That Hates Everyone Else

    Continuing with his trend into Anti-Semitism, Segal notes how Campbell is unusually uncharitable towards Jewish beliefs and folklore compared to other religions within his work.[7] Although he delivers criticisms for Christianity, Campbell often belabours the values of Gnosticism. Or at least his version of it. Gnosticism was an esoteric form of early Christianity which preached secret knowledge that could only be understood through ritualistic initiation.[6] It is, essentially, the more mystical and metaphorical rebrand of God.

    A Possible Depiction of The Demiurge by Bernard de Montfaucon
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia

    Within Gnostic belief, an ancient minor god called the Demiurge messed up reality and trapped our divine essence in a poorly designed meat bag.[6] Only though the rituals of Gnosticism could one transcend the body and become divine. Campbell was enamoured with this. Probably because he, like many Catholics, rebelled against the stuffiness of the traditional church. But Christianity isn’t the sole religion to retain esoteric varieties.

    As Segal points out, there is an extensive tradition of mystical interpretations for Judaism, through scholars like Gershom Scholem or Raphael Patai.[7] Campbell even nominally mentions the idea of mysticism in Judaism, but never seems to quote from the figureheads of such views. Instead, he usually shrouds it under his personal universal views and frankly, spurns it for the sake of aggrandising other cultures. In one telling quote Ellwood frames this as:

    Judaism is said to be chauvinistic, fossilized, nationalistic, sexist, patriarchal, and anti-mystical. Even primal peoples, such as Campbell’s beloved Native Americans, are said to “possess a broader vision than Jews.”” [6]

    But do not let this fool you into thinking Campbell treats indigenous peoples’ religious beliefs any better. Throughout his book, he uses tales from the Yolngu and Arrente people of Australia. Glenda Hambly, a documentary filmmaker and white Australian academic specialising in indigenous folklore, counters many of Campbell’s retellings.[8]

    This can be as grandiose as Campbell’s enforcing of linearity into the narratives of the Yolngu and Arrente, who believe in a more cyclical version of time.[8] Where past, present and future merge into one. Their tales often revolve around these cycles, how people were born from the earth itself and must always return to the earth. They also emphasise repetitions, cycles of things happening again and again. Both of these are non-existent Campbell’s romantisisation.

    Ghost Gum and Waterhole, Central Australia (1955) by Albert Namatjira
    Retrieved From:Wikiart
    Note: Namatjira was an Arrente artist and this image in particular reminds me of the Arrente creation myth, in which humans emerged from the dirt underneath a lake.

    His most pernicious example is the Arrente passage of manhood, which Campbell cites as a circumcision ritual.[4] He narrowly focuses on the act itself and the boys learning the oral history of the Arrente. Now, for the sake of respect, Hambly omits the details of the actual ritual. This is due to it being a closed practice and the fact people like Campbell keep bastardising their religious beliefs. However, as reported by Hambly, the ritual is significantly more complex containing multiple parts before and after the circumcising.[8]

    Most importantly, to me at least, is how Campbell uses this story to emphasise the boys self-generating knowledge. The individualised actualisation of their own wisdom. But, obviously, they do not do that. The Arrente focus on how act of passing down knowledge is critical.[8] The communal aspect of teaching a rising generation and respecting the wisdom of those who came before you. Furthermore, the other stages of the ritual are just as important as the circumcision itself, yet in Campbell’s retelling, you’d think the Arrente only care about that.

    And it isn’t just indigenous beliefs Campbell manages to misunderstand.

    The Mind That Forgets Itself

    Mary Lefkowitz is a prestigious scholar of Ancient Greek and Roman literature. As well, she was involved in an academic controversy between herself and African history scholars. This involved complaints of Afrocentrism and Eurocentrism within historical analysis about Ancient Greece, which I cannot get into with any more detail because it would require an essay to unpack properly. One I may eventually write. But for now, I felt it was worthwhile to at least mention her marred reputation.

    In a 1990 essay, Lefkowitz points out how Campbell flattens Greek mythology. Campbell composes the story of Telemarketer Telemachus in the Odyssey, as a rite of passage, an ascension into manhood.[9] However, Lefkowitz attests that the moral was likely more fundamental, that good sons always honour their fathers. In a way, Campbell persistently tries to make the unfamiliar, familiar.

    Telemachus and Athena by Tenoart
    Retrieved From: Tumgik

    Furthermore, he uses Artemis (or Diana in later Roman revisions) as an example of his Universal Goddess.[4] The archetype for all goddesses in all mythology who can be either a nurturing lover or, conversely, a tempting trickster. Ignoring the net he is casting, that is so wide it could encompass Venus, he weaves us the tale of Actaeon.

    A mortal man was out hunting deer with his domesticated wolves. Whereupon, by chance, he finds the goddess Artemis bathing in a secluded brook. He takes this “opportunity” to look upon the naked goddess. Artemis rebukes him, cursing him to become a deer, which causes him to be ripped to shreds by his own hunting wolves. Campbell’s version frames the goddess as a tempting trickster.

    To start with, the story has a variety of versions, including one in which the Actaeon figure is turned to stone and another where the peeping Tom is transformed into a Thomasina. Furthermore, composing the tale through the lens of Acateon means that the tale is interpreted as a godly test designed for the hunter.

    Acateon Sculpture at Caserta Palace by Paolo Persico, Angelo Maria Brunelli, and Tommaso Solari
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia

    As Lefkowitz points out, this framing has less basis in Greek or Roman mythology.[9] Contemporary people were unlikely to see this as a test, instead viewing it as an example of the gods’ mean-spirited nature. Or even just as an example of why you shouldn’t be a voyeur. Astonishingly, the Greeks could be prudish.

    Many people of the time understood the gods as aloof and uncaring in the matters of humans.[9] A stark contrast to Campbell’s revising, which places human heroes as the most important figures in the god’s lives. In a way, I believe Campbell’s opinion of gods mirrors his self-image. Which is never made any clear than this damning statement by Segal:

    As relentlessly dismissive of Judaism as Campbell ordinarily is, he dismisses it in the name of Judaism itself. Judaism, like every other Western religion, has misunderstood itself, indeed has perverted itself. Judaism can, however, be saved, once Judaism the religion is replaced by Judaism the mythology. Since Jews themselves have perennially been inculcated in Judaism as a religion, they can hardly save Judaism. Only Campbell can. He alone grasps at the true mythic nature of Judaism. He thus becomes the savior of Judaism. He saves it from itself. He saves Judaism not by forging myths for it but by revealing the myths it harbours.” [7]

    Even when he is praising a culture or folklore, Campbell can’t help but position himself as the arbiter. As the prism which can unlock all the shades of storytelling. As the saviour God, guiding the next generation of heroes with his comparative mythology. A naked narcissism in the most classical version of the term.

    Reality is Ether

    Campbell is neither the first nor the only person to create grand sweeping generalisations of culture. In fact, in a bitingly mocking manner, Dundes mentions how Campbell’s belief of universal truth in folklore is a thought often expressed by first year folkloric students.[1] Less provocatively, Barre Toelken mentions how Campbell’s issue is one that faces many psychology adjacent people who delve into folklore. They tend to regard it as having one canonical variant and therefore posit their theories as the canonical interpretation.[10]

    A personal pet peeve of mine, is how Campbell achieves this with the Vodyanoy or Water Grandfather. A figure in Slavic mythology, the Vodyanoy is a recurring fairy-tale character. A bald toad-like man, that destroys waterwheels, interferes with fishermen’s catches and even takes women who drown themselves as wives. There are many variations of him, some imagine a Vodyanoy king, others tie him to Russian Rusalkas. But Campbell only mentions that he is a water spirit who drowns women to compel them into marriage.[4]

    The Vodyanoy (1934) by Ivan Bilibin
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia
    Fun Fact: The first monster in the first DnD campaign I ran was a homebrewed Vodyanoy

    This, to Campbell, is a prime example of the Crossing of the Threshold. Where the woman is Crossing from the Threshold of the living to the dead and the Vodyanoy is the gatekeeper. We will only glance at the sexism that Campbell’s version of female heroism involves death and marriage, as this also attributes a canonicity and linearity that isn’t present in the actual folklore.

    Like many folkloric figures, the Vodyanoy is fluid. They shift depending on if the region relies on water mills or fishing. If they are by the sea or only have lakes and rivers. If there is a history of drowned women or if the history is of dead men at sea. That, to me, is the beauty of folklore. It is ever changing, and those transformations mark the differences in the cultures spreading the story. It can speak to the priorities of a folk, their aesthetic choices, their worries and their situation captured within a certain time. But to admit that would be to confess to the heterogeneity of life itself.

    Florence Sandler and Darrel Reeck, hit the nail on the head when they call Campbell, and other like him, comparative esotericists.[11] Put differently, they are interested in cultures in order to seek wisdom, using symbols within tales to direct their thought. Though this must be detached from the folk it came from, lest it be tainted by the spectre of subjectivity.

    This is never made clearer than in Campbell’s disdain for how the Vedic hero Indra’s tale was changed.[11] Originally, Indra’s slaying of Vritra was lauded, but when later Hindu stories framed Vrita as a Brahmin, Indra’s act was corrupted and cruel. The tale evolved, much to the remorse of Campbell. For if anything evolves or changes, it means a universal constant cannot exist. Objectivity is dead.

    Battle of Vritra & Indra from a 1916 Manuscript of Bhagavata Purana Retrieved From: Wikipedia

    Although of course, Campbell is anything but objective. As Sandler and Reeck state, his hero is absolutely American.[11] The hero must be a rugged individualist and sacrifice anything he can to save his community alone. All in the hopes of being rewarded. His disdain for Hinduism and other Asian belief systems, was mired not only by racism, but by anti-communism. As a fear of “The East” became more incoherent in the minds of westerners.

    Campbell’s brand of generalisability is one of convenience. He does so with a sweeping brush to paint himself as good and others as evil, as virtue or vice, as white or black. The only way that can be done, is to present history, folklore and culture as providing a particular canonical lens, a fundamental truth which only he can divine.

    In a way, he never really renounced his Catholicism. He just rebranded to a different type of canon he could control.

    A Canonical Interpretation

    I have recently finished reading Babel by R.F Kuang. I swear this is relevant. Babel is about many things, but the primary interest for us is how Kuang unpacks translation. A great deal of the book tackles if there is a right way to translate, if it is an art or a science, and how much of translation in Britain leaves out the native speakers of the language.[13]

    Victoire by grntre23
    Retrieved From: Tumblr
    Note: Victorie my beloved!

    There is a discussion between the characters about if texts should secede to the language they are translated into. Should a Mandarin text retain its differences, its figures of speech and metaphors? Or should the metaphors be translated into roughly equivalent English phrases, even if it displaces some of the implicit or explicit meaning? Your mileage will likely vary depending on the text, the purpose of translation and more.

    But it is with this fluxing framework, that I came across an Instagram reel. I know, the height of academic sources. But Jake Grefenstette of the International Poetry Forum was making a point about Emily Wilson’s translation of The Illiad.[14] In specific, how she translates a passage pertaining to Achilles mourning of Patroclus. She translates it as:

    I love him like my head, my life, myself.”[15]

    Grefenstette says that to specify “my head”, instead of removing it, was a deliberate and unique translational choice.[14] It preserves a moment of poetic strangeness where we, the English speaking audience, are forced to consider an alternative form of understanding love. Presented in a manner not wholly familiar to us, using a phrase we would never use. Yet echoing a sentiment we can grasp, if we only reach for it.

    To crib from Babel, this would be akin to prioritising the native understanding of the language. To translate on its own terms and preserve it’s meaning, even if this is unfamiliar to the target audience. And Campbell would hate this.

    Campbell’s translation goals is to make the unfamiliar familiar. To digest the intricacies of Native Americans, Chinese, Indians, Indigenous Australians, Africans, Southern Americans, Jewish people and more, into tales familiar to 1950s White American men. He was lauded time and again, even by authors critical of him, for his ability to utilise so many tales.[6][9][11] But utilise is too kind a word. Co-opt, steal, warp, manipulate are all better. But only one word truly fits.

    Colonise.

    The Loop of Colonisation

    In Babel, a major thesis point of the book is how the British colonised language.[13] How the country used, and uses, the act of translation to further imperialism. To manipulate native people. To canonise certain versions and translations of a language. To provide an example from Babel, our Chinese protaganist is forced to stop speaking Cantonese in favour of Mandarin. Since it is more useful to British imperial efforts to speak the language of the courts than of the common people.

    What Campbell did was perpetuate the tradition of imperialism. It becomes increasingly more rare (but not completely gone) for countries to commit imperialism through miltary invasion. Empires have been nominally dismantled and countries like the United States, Britain and many more, require a way to exert control on others. And one of the numerous ways to achieve this, is to rewrite culture.

    To take the stories, the beliefs, the words of people they dehumanise and imprint their own viewpoint onto it. To make the imperialist belief system solely legitimate. The English words become the authoritative version. I’d liken it to butchery, but that requires some finesse. This is like cutting fat off of a steak with your fingers. It’s filthy, lazy and requires no substantial thought. The skill comes in the spinning of idleness as enlightenment. In the gift of the gab that devours and regurgitates all for the next generation.

    Campbell’s efforts were hardly unique. His method is one that has been, and continues to, be wielded by many figures across the political spectrum. It’s tempting to try and be universalist as a form of kindness. To consider everyone as exactly the same. But doing so wipes out important differences. It leaves the most marginalised, those still crushed by colonisation, unable to speak about how their differences are being erased. Their beliefs. Their viewpoints. Their stories.

    Joseph Campbell didn’t merely write a silly little universalist plot structure, devoid of cultural context. He stole from various cultures all around the world to prove his idea is the most legitimate. The only real one, the guiding light towards spiritual salvation for the white man. Whilst he liked removing context, I will keep including context in his work. Because his words are still used, his mindset is still terribly real. And unless we consider the context, the culture, the viewpoints of those unfamiliar to us. We will end up like him.

    Thank you so much for reading. Please let me know your thoughts, and I will be back next time to analyse how Campbell uses psychoanalysis, as well as the broader issues with using psychoanalysis in media. Until next time.

    References

    1. Dundes, A. (2005). Folkloristics in the twenty-First century (AFS invited Presidential Plenary Address, 2004). The Journal of American Folklore, 118(470), 385-408.
    2. Dundes, A. (1965). The study of folklore in literature and culture: Identification and interpretation. The Journal of American Folklore, 78(308), 136-142.
    3. Jorgensen, J. (2022). Fairy Tales 101: An Accessible Introduction to Fairy Tales. Dr Jeana Jorgensen LLC.
    4. Campbell, J. (1949). The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Pantheon Books.
    5. Echo-Hawk, R. (2016). Joseph Campbell and Race. Retrieved From: WordPress
    6. Ellwood, R. (1999). The politics of myth: A study of CG Jung, Mircea Eliade, and Joseph Campbell. Suny Press.
    7. Segal, R. A. (1992). Joseph Campbell on Jews and Judaism. Religion, 22(2), 151-170.
    8. Hambly, G. (2021). The not so universal hero’s journey. Journal of Screenwriting, 12(2), 135-150.
    9. Lefkowitz, M. R. (1990). Mythology: the myth of Joseph Campbell. The American Scholar, 59(3), 429-434.
    10. Toelken, B. (1996). Dynamics Of Folklore: Revised and Expanded Edition. University Press of Colorado.
    11. Sandler, F., & Reeck, D. (1981). The masks of Joseph Campbell. Religion, 11(1), 1-20.
    12. Campbell, J. (1976). The masks of God : Oriental mythology. Penguin Books.
    13. Kuang, R. F. (2023). Babel. Edizioni Mondadori.
    14. International Poetry Forum. (21st March, 2025). Happy World Poetry Day from the International Poetry Forum. Instagram. Retrieved From: Instagram
    15. Homer. (2023). The Iliad (E. Wilson, Trans.). W. W. Norton & Company.
  • How The Hero’s Journey Departed Into The World

    How The Hero’s Journey Departed Into The World

    Content Notes: Descriptions of Racism and Sexism

    You are most likely at least vaguely familiar with The Hero’s Journey. It is not just a narrative framework for how to conjure a delightful story. It is the distilled archetype for the pantheon of heroic tales from all cultures in mythology. It is a self-help guide for young men who lost their way. And it is the reason Star Wars exists. But more than all of this, it is a vague conglomeration of bad psychology, poor philosophy and racist anthropology, masquerading as intuitive truth. Though before we unmask this narrative astrology, we must start examining what it is attempting to portray in the first place.

    The Hands Creating The Mask

    The Hero’s Journey was created by Joseph Campbell in his 1949 book, The Hero With a Thousand Faces.[1] Before we get into the book, I want to provide a bit of background on the man himself. Born in 1904 to Roman Catholic parents, Campbell’s love for mythology began when he visited the American Museum of Natural History as a child.[2] In it was housed Native American artefacts and stories, including human remains taken from grave sites for the white patrons to gawk at.[3]

    The American Museum of Natural History, Photographed by bryan
    Retrieved From: Flickr

    As most children do, he compared the Native American tales to his own experiences with the gospel of Jesus.[2] This innocuous moment lead to his most steadfast belief. That all mythology, in all the world, within all time, is fundamentally the same. But to appreciate this, mythology must be removed from it’s temporal and social context to weave a grand tapestry of truth. Or, you know, he somewhat edited his biographical history to present that heroic realisation about the fundamental truth of the universe, so it sounded more satisfying.

    Campbell graduated from Columbia University with an English Bachelors in 1925 and a Medieval Literature Masters in 1927.[2] He subsequently studied Old French and Sanskrit, at the University of Paris and Munich separately. During this foray to Europe he started to read psychoanalytical literature, particularly the works of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, which would heavily influence his philosophy. It is noteworthy that Campbell had no formal training in anthropology, history or psychology. This does not diminish his insight intrinsically, but it is worth keeping in mind as we scrutinize his work.

    Ultimately, Campbell began working as a professor of Literature at the Sarah Lawrence College and wrote his magnum opus, The Hero With A Thousand Faces.[2] Combining Jungian psychology and his own literary know how, the book showcased his hypothesis that all heroes can be understood through his framework. After this, he wrote a 4 volume survey on world mythology and toured around Western universities, giving talks on his books and more generally his philosophy.

    Bill Moyers (Left) and Joseph Campbell (Right) in The Power of Myth (1988)

    In later years, he was more clear on his politics, favouring the idea of a hero as a rugged American individualist.[2] And American culture as uniquely positioned to produce self-reliant men who were the epitome of psychological and social wealth. Though you can absolutely identify these ideas leaking into his earlier works too. Additionally, he was a staunch support of the U.S. invasion of Vietnam and avowed against the counterculture movement that was, in some ways, inspired by his own books.

    His final, and perhaps most influential act, was a six part interview with Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) journalist Bill Moyers.[4] He died in 1987, a year before the interview was released, in Honolulu, Hawaii.[2] Making him one of the countless white Americans to retire by occupying indigenous land simply because of the scenic view. Which, honestly, does actually parallel his most famous book quite well too.

    A Journey of Theorisation

    To commence our descent into The Hero’s Journey, I want to provide the first sentence that greets you, the prologue to Campbell’s idea:

    Whether we listen with aloof amusement to the dreamlike mumbo jumbo of some red-eyed witch doctor of the Congoor […] now and again crack the hard nutshell of an argument of Aquinas, or catch suddenly the shining meaning of a bizarre Eskimo fairy tale: it will be always the one, shape-shifting yet marvelously constant story that we find.”[1]

    In reading the entirety of this book, I did try to be mindful of the fact that he is an white American man who grew up at the turn of the 20th century, so some level of racism was to be expected. However, he is also positioning himself as the figurehead for all mythology within the world.

    So, perhaps more than a lot of historical figures, his description of Congolese stories as mumbo jumbo from a witch doctor or Inuit fairy tales as bizarre warrants some scrutiny. These are not the descriptions of an unbiased academic who respects the culture the narratives come from. At best, Campbell seems to exoticise the cultural tales he regales.

    The original Hero’s Journey is a 17 point collection of archetypal story beats, which are split into three parts. Departure, Initiation and Return.[1] In the broadest strokes of the journey, the hero begins setting forth from the ordinary world to the beginning of an adventure, usually a gate to a realm beyond our own. The hero must conquer a superhuman power, or is defeated himself to pass through the gate, where he will undergo mystical trials.

    Our hero will then arrive at the reward he seeks to bring back to mankind, which frequently involves a union with a God-like figure or his own ascension into Godhood, be that metaphorical or literal.[1] The hero then flees the supernatural sphere, either because he stole the reward or must help those back in the material world. He returns transformed and gifting the world novel insight, thereby helping the world to have transformed too.

    The Hero’s Journey (1949) by Joseph Campbell, Page 227
    Note: This image makes it clearer right? Right?…

    If this all sounds rather esoteric and archaic that is because it is. We will delve into detail for each step, but be aware that they don’t all have to co-occur. Rather, for each of the three sections, there are multiple possibilities of things may occur. These possible occurrences do not have to be in the order Campbell presents, so long as the three main points are in order. And these story beats may be entirely literal or so abstractly metaphorical as to be etheric in substance. But we must attempt to grasp at the maddening ether to understand this framework.

    Departing From Generalities

    Departure starts with a Call to Adventure, where the hero is beckoned into starting his journey.[1] This can be a princess being ordered to kiss a frog or a disease needing a supernatural cure. Often accompanying this call is a herald, an older, shrewder man, describing what the hero must do. Next is the Refusal to Call, which does not always need to happen. This can be split into two sections, those who stories end at refusal and those who continue despite refusal.

    The former are stories like King Minos, who keeps a divine bull instead of sacrificing it to the gods, refusing the call to fulfil his spiritual duty.[1] He is then punished for this by his wife sleeping with said bull and birthing a horrific monster, the Minotaur. The other has the hero compelled into the adventure, through trickery or death of loved ones, resulting in pressure that forces action.

    Ionian Minotaur Perfume Bottle, Photographed by Mary Harrsch
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia
    Note: He’s just a little guuuuy

    After this the hero gains Supernatural Aid, where a wise woman or wizard gives them trinkets, spells or amulets to assist them in their supernatural journey. [1] With gifts in tow the hero must Cross The Threshold, passing through a gate in order to enter the supernatural realm. Usually through tricking or defeating the guard of the gate, although in death, a hero can also find themselves somewhere new.

    The concluding part of Departure is The Belly of The Whale, accordingly named after the biblical tale of Jonah which resembles the whale scene from Pinocchio.[1] The Belly represents an area where the hero is reborn in order to pass through the unfamiliar world. A region of safety and, at the same time, mystery. A brief respite of transformation, before his tribulations begins.

    Jonah and The Whale (1621) by Pieter Lastman
    Retrieved From: Wikipedia

    First in Initiation is The Road of Trials, which is exactly what it sounds like.[1] A set of tests the hero must overcome, usually utilising the supernatural aid they previously received. Once the trials are completed there are a few things that can happen as a form of personal spiritual reward. The Meeting With The Goddess is perhaps the most courteous way of saying, the Hero bonds with a supernaturally beautiful woman, usually romantically and physically. Campbell tries to wrap this in esoteric dyads to make it seem less horrifically sexist.

    This does not work, especially because the adjoining section is called, Woman as Temptress.[1] Where a Goddess of Flesh and Love, the antithesis of Christendom, appears to the hero. This encapsulation of sin reveals the delights of womanhood that he has hitherto not understood. Essentially placing women’s worth not just as being arm candy, but as the servitors of orgasmic insight. Campbell nominally positions himself as better than his Catholic upbringing by attempting neutrality towards such archetypal characters. Although, the way he talks about sexuality is rather revealing:

    Generally we refuse to admit within ourselves, or within our friends, the fullness of that pushing, self-protective, malodorous, carnivorous, lecherous fever which is the very nature of the organic cell. Rather, we tend to perfume, whitewash, and reinterpret; meanwhile imagining that all the flies in the ointment, all the hairs in the soup, are the faults of some unpleasant someone else”[1]

    Slightly less horrific is Atonement With Father, which does not flow where it should after the previous two sections.[1] Instead, this is a moment with either a literal patriarch God, or a supernatural parental figure, who guides our hero from boyhood to manhood. This can be through slaying the father figure, rebuking them, or accepting their place within the world.

    Then is Apotheosis, where the prior version of the hero dies, so they can ascend, either into godhood or fresh spiritual understanding.[1] In any of these cases, the hero gains new items, new powers or new wisdom, a so called Ultimate Boon, which he then must bestow to the mortal world.

    Return begins counter-intuitively, with Refusal to Return.[1] The hero refuses to come home because of a charming wife, a wondrous life, or a world of strife which awaits for him. This too can be split like the previous refusal, where the story ends with the hero refusing to come back or it continues due to circumstances outside of his control. Usually, through a Magical Flight whereby he wields supernatural powers to go back home, either sanctioned by the world he is departing from, or being chased by those he has wronged.

    Aladdin (1992) by Disney

    His return is usually aided by the people of the world itself, called the Rescue from Without.[1] This can be magical assists, the opening of the threshold or even the music of the people providing guidance back home. The hero then Crosses the Return Threshold, often with the caveat of struggling to adjust to his home realm. Now he has insight or power, it is unfathomable to ever be normal again. But those who can manage it become the Master of The Two Worlds, able to delve between them and deliver prosperity.

    And all of this ends with The Freedom to Live, referring to the people of the mortal world, who now benefit from the hero’s wisdom or gifts.[1] Now they have gained rare insight and can develop anew, either becoming slightly changed or drastically different from before. Fortunately for us, the insights into Campbell and heroes does not end here.

    Popularising Academia

    You may be somewhat pondering how a dry, rather obtuse academic text managed to become on par with a Three Act Structure in the minds of writers. Well, ironically, the popularisation of The Hero’s Journey also happened within three acts. And it all begins with a little known, minor science fiction adventure trilogy in nine parts, called Star Wars.

    Amongst his other mentors like Francis Ford Coppola, George Lucas states that Campbell was a huge inspiration and guide for his writing with Star Wars.[5] In an interview with Bill Moyers, Lucas states how he employed the Hero’s Journey, to structure the original Star Wars trilogy. This is not just him post-hoc claiming this, contemporary journalists at the time noted the similarity in structure as well. [6]

    Star Wars: A New Hope Poster by Tom Jung

    Star Wars gave a new generation of film nerds instant insight into Campbell’s work and philosophy, not just in terms of heroism. The Force, as stated by Lucas, is a deliberate abstraction of religious beliefs around the world, of faith itself.[5] It allowed him to explore religious symbolism and scholarship in a more modern lens. As well as introducing such ideas to a teenage audience that was increasingly becoming disillusioned with all sects of Christianity.

    But Lucas was not the only influential storyteller to be inspired by Campbell. Christopher Vogler was a story consultant for Disney and Fox amongst others, perhaps best known for his work on the iconoclastic film, The Lion King.[7] In the late 1980s, he wrote a set of memos whilst working at Disney about The Hero’s Journey, which he then compiled into a 1992 guide for screenwriters at the company and beyond.[8]

    By his own telling, the memo was hot stuff in the writing departments and even was read by then head of Disney, Jeffery “So Petty He Made A Competing Film Studio” Katzenberg.[8] Vogler uses a 12 point condensed version of the Hero’s Journey and peddles it not just as a possible structure, but as a great rubric to decide if any writing is good. Put differently, The Hero’s Journey is not just a framework, but a standard by which all stories must be measured against. Since, as Vogler articulates:

    Campbell’s contribution was to gather the ideas together, recognize them, articulate them, and name them. He exposes the pattern for the first time, the pattern that lies behind every story ever told”[8]

    This hyperbole is likely the result of Vogler overselling his memos at Disney to establish himself as more notable and gain more prestigious work. Nevertheless, the idea of The Hero’s Journey as a metric is not wholly original, as Campbell did often view his own framework as the pinnacle of classical storytelling.[2][4] And even more so, journalists, essayists and writers still view The Hero’s Journey to such high regard. But, it isn’t just in narrative niches, that Campbell’s work made a splash.

    Masculine Myth Making

    The Mythopoeic Movement was a faction of men’s mental health advocates in the 1980s and 90s. It’s foundational author was Robert Bly, who was inspired by Campbell to use mythology in guiding men.[9] He speculated, much as Campbell did, that tales could be used to combat the psychological and social ills facing men at the time.[10] Especially the grief of a bygone age, where they had structure and purpose.

    Robert Bly at Poetry Out Loud Finals, Minnesota 2009, Photographed by Nic McPhee
    Retrieved From: Flickr

    Now, I have to pause here because the Mythopoeic Movement is complicated, in a similar way to how Campbell’s philosophy and modern men’s mental health activism is. There are good ideas from these voices. Such as Campbell’s advice for men to have hobbies and time just for themselves, to get away from the stresses of a capitalistic hellscape.[4] In a similar fashion, the Mythopoeic Movement advocated for men to get in touch with their emotions, to freely cry and grieve, without constraint.[9]

    However, the issue that many of these movements face can be simply summed up in three words. They’re not intersectional. Meaning, they only consider the perspective of how white masculinity is in crisis. This is not wholly unique to men’s mental health, white feminists of the 80s were similarly criticised for their focus only those whose sole marginalisation was their biological sex. Causing black women, trans women, disabled women, poor women and more to never be directly helped or considered in such activism.

    Though, the Mythopoeic Movement and Campbell were remarkably bad for this, as they rather viewed themselves as above political and social advocacy. [4][9] Their universalist, psychological approach, meant there was no need to consider the context of the time they lived in and simply should promote broad, arching beliefs about all men’s necessities. Some of this was reasonable, like encouraging intra-gender friendship, creating bonds with fellow men.

    Others were well…whining about sexism. Or more specifically, whining about women who dared to state they were, for most intents and purposes, the same as men. Bly, Campbell and other similar proponents only wished to celebrate the unique differences between men and women. By acknowledging the irrevocable truth that your gentials dictate your brain, soul, personality and capabilities.[1][4][11] It’s just facts and logic.[No Citation Found]

    Jordan “Lobster Understander” Peterson at Toronto University (2017), Photographed by Adam Jacobs
    Retrieved From: Flickr

    It is plain to see how Campbell and Bly’s ideas have festered into modern conservatism, men’s rights activism and even messaging on mental health. But it is equally critical to state that both, rather conveniently, only really appealed to men like them. Never considering, never thinking, never inviting in, those with vastly diverse experiences. Be that due to class, disability, race or other marginalisations. One piece of advice that has stuck in my head throughout this reading as symptomatic of this is Follow Your Bliss.

    The term originated with Campbell and is his idea that to be truly like a hero, you must follow your passions.[4] It is a refrain shared by Lucas in the interviews he’s given and by Bly in his book.[5][9] This means, finding a job you love and making it a cornerstone of your life, monetarily and psychologically. Which is a nice sentiment. In theory. But as any person in a even a mildly competitive industry will tell you it is laborious to achieve. I do not want to sound like a doomer here and say it is impossible.

    But rather, foster a sense of realism. That for the impoverished, the marginalised, the most shunned of society, following your bliss can be incredibly difficult. Barriers of mental health, of stigmatisation, of internal and external pressures constantly build up to prevent you from doing so. To choose to follow your passions requires sacrifice, support, and is a monumentous choice for the majority of people, let alone the majority of men. Such halcyon dreaming, can really only be followed with ease, when social, economic and political issues do not touch you.

    Dying Achilles by Ernst Herter, Photographer Unknown
    Retrieved From: Pinterest

    As the hero is often rendered invulnerable by the supernatural aid of his allies. The experiences of Bly, Lucas and Campbell show how they were rendered indestructible by the unnatural assistance of policies, societal support and birthright financing in their favour. But of course, those of us without such direct access to these advantages, have to create our own magic, to carve a similar path. And even then, sparks of magic are easily snuffed out.

    Carrying A Different Message

    Over the next couple of essays, we will be exploring more detail about the inaccuracies of the Hero’s Journey. But to finish off this section, I wanted to talk about an alternate theory to writing and structure, one that has stuck with me as a writer. Ursula K LeGuin was an American fantasy and science fiction writer, perhaps best known for book series, Tales of Earthsea, which was adapted into a Studio Ghibli movie. As well, she was an essayist who discussed the nature of narrative itself.

    In 1986, LeGuin wrote one such musing called, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction.[12] The essay is based on Elizabeth Fisher’s book Women’s Creation, in which she argues for the titular theory.[13] The concept blends prehistoric study and how we tell the stories of prehistory. It asserts that the first thing to ever be created as a tool, was not a weapon made of bone, but likely a container to carry food.

    This is based on the fact that most prehistorical societies had the majority of their food from gathering fruits, nuts, vegetable, fungi and anything else you could find nearby. Meat from hunting was more of a treat, like a takeout with deadly stakes. So a takeout.

    LeGuin furthers this, stating that the idea of our first act of creation being to carry, is more grounded in the world she wishes to live in, then our first act being violence.[12] And that although many stories tell of hero’s violent exploits, killing and slaying to gain a prize, she derives comfort in the heroes who navigate through life in more ordinary ways. Who carry words, items, or crafts of their own devising to trick, to bargain, to pass but never to kill.

    I use this as a comparison to Campbell, because LeGuin states this as a sort of pseudo-philosophy as well. A philosophy of people and happiness. For, as she remarks, those who simply foraged and occasionally hunted, possessed much more free time for hobbies, for passions and love.[12]

    Though I cannot assert the historical truth of this idea, I like this for the ideas LeGuin presents beyond factual basis. Like Campbell, it is a way of telling stories and viewing our lives, focusing on those who gather, on those who cultivate, on small conversations and minor acts of kindness. As she says, this kind of story may be:

    A strange realism, but [life] is a strange reality.”[12]

    And ultimately, this reality is one I too would rather occupy, then one of Campbell’s devising.

    Thank you for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts and experiences with The Hero’s Journey. Next time we will be tackling psychoanalysis in Campbell’s writing and how it leads to bad personal and mental health advice.

    References

    1. Campbell, J. (1949). The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Pantheon Books.
    2. Segal, R. (2019). Joseph Campbell | Biography, Books, & Facts. In Encyclopædia Britannica. Retrieved From: Britannica
    3. Sutton, B. (2024, July 31). American Museum of Natural History has repatriated more than 100 Native American human remains and 90 objects. The Art Newspaper – International Art News and Events. Retrieved From: The Art Newspaper
    4. Campbell, J., Moyers, B. (1988). The Power of Myth. PBS.
    5. Lucas, G,. Moyers, B. (1999) The Mythology of ‘Star Wars’. Film for the Humanities and Sciences. Retrieved From: Youtube
    6. Gordon, A. (1978). “Star Wars”: A Myth for Our Time. Literature/Film Quarterly, 6(4), 314–326.
    7. The Lion King – Full Cast and Crew. IMDB. Retrieved From: IMDB
    8. Vogler, C. (1992). The Writer’s Journey. Retrieved From: Web Archive
    9. Bly, R. (1990). Iron John : A Book About Men. Vintage Books.
    10. Quinn, F. (2000) An Interview With Robert Bly. Paris Review. Retrieved From: RobertBly.com
    11. Connell, R. (2005). Masculinities. Routledge.
    12. Le Guin, U. K. (1986). The carrier bag theory of fiction. The ecocriticism reader: Landmarks in literary ecology, 149-154.
    13. Fisher, E. (1980). Woman’s Creation. McGraw-Hill Companies.