Article
Character
Creed
Politics
Virtues
4 min read

Rory Stewart’s search for the hero inside

Who could be heroes today?
An AI image shows a contemporary man looking to the distance in a heroic pose.
Achilles in London.
Nick Jones/Midjourney.ai.

Rory Stewart has released a new BBC Radio 4 documentary series. Having previously tackled the concept of ‘ignorance’, he now seeks to investigate and explain the notion of ‘heroism’. What does it mean to be ‘heroic’? How is it that certain people are remembered as a ‘hero’? Can anyone live up to this lofty ideal? To answer these questions, Stewart embraces the full historical sweep, beginning with the ‘heroic’ Achilles, and tracing the evolution of ‘heroism’ through Alexander the Great to Ceasar to Napoleon, right to modern day ‘heroes’ – be they Superman or Zelensky or Donald Trump. 

The Long History of...Heroism is excellent. Stewart is a consummate writer and broadcaster, and crafts the series into a gripping investigation, featuring a line-up of engaging and knowledgeable talking-heads, including favourites such as Rowan Williams, Mary Beard, and Tom Holland. They help to chronicles the many ‘deaths’ the notion of the ‘hero’ has undergone – the combatant and conqueror, giving way to the upstanding Victorian viceroy of virtue, then reincarnated as the one who is true to themselves and their own vision of justice.  

Stewart identifies an overarching problem with ‘heroism’: the possibility of the average man or woman emulating the ‘hero’. I disagree; it seems to me that this is not the real issue at hand. Both Trump and Zelensky are ‘heroes’ because both go above-and-beyond in embodying what seems ‘good’ to the people who love them. As the series makes clear, however, what seems ‘good’ changes from age-to-age and society-to-society. By the final episode the themes coalesce to a crescendo…but not a full resolution. 

Now I would say this, but I believe this series to be limited by the ‘secular’ constraints of a BBC Radio 4 documentary series, put out for the broadest possible audience. The series does touch on the Christian legacy: how the story of Christ began to subvert the ancient Greco-Roman idea of the ‘hero’, the advent of the martyr as a rebuke to the figures of Achilles and Ceasar, how this morphed into the more culturally comfortable figure of the ‘chivalric knight’, and how its radicalism was rediscovered in figures such as Simone Weil and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. However, it is (understandably) unable to delve too deeply into the Christian idea of the ’hero’. 

The Christian sense of the ‘heroic’ spans the categories the series establishes. There are remarkable feats of physical courage: the martyrs who are willing to die horribly for their faith. There are inspiring feats of charity: the sheer number of hospitals and refuges and foodbanks that the Church has overseen for a millennium now. There are stirring feats of humility: my favourite is St Thérèse of Lisieux who has left us a spiritual diary chronicling her ‘Little Way’ of loving all those around her, especially when they irritated her. Even so, the Christian ‘heroic’ goes far beyond even these noble categories.  

For the Christian, there is no ‘hero’ to emulate, as such. There is only the person of Jesus Christ. Only Jesus is ‘good’ because only Jesus is God – and so only Jesus can embody ‘THE GOOD’. In one sense Jesus embodies the overwhelming and awesome transcendence of the ‘hero’, and in another he is beyond even such a lofty height – not ‘a god’ like Ceasar, but truly and fully the one God who created all ‘beings’ and is ‘being-in-itself’. Jesus is not a traditional hero, because he does not overcome, for as divine he is beyond all that is. Yet, as a man, he is ‘heroic’ by demonstrating what true power and victory and self-sacrifice – culminating on the Cross – really looks like.  

Jesus can be emulated – he leaves us not only an example (which the holy martyrs follow to its natural conclusion) but a set of teachings. Yet of course we cannot emulate his impossible standards, the standards of holiness that only God could fulfil. To be a Christian ‘hero’ is to live in this antinomic space.  

Stewart concludes on a hopeful but flawed note: a ‘heroic legacy’ is feasible for us all! The ‘secular’ flaw of the series I have found, is that even in its promotion of self-effacement, self-sacrifice, and self-transcendence, its ‘heroism’ remains either the egoism and individualism of the ancient warrior, or a modern and post-modern materialist response. At its worst, in our increasingly digital world, the 21st century ‘heroic’ response strikes me as a chilling chimera, uniting the worst of both. To be a Christian is to devote oneself to absolute transcendence; not only of self but of everything other than Jesus Christ.  

To live as a Christian is not only living ‘like’ Christ, but becoming Christ, and ultimately allowing Christ to become us…to live and speak and act through us. Only in this absolute self-denial is the Christian life complete. We are emptied entirely; we cannot become ‘heroes’ of ourselves, but we can make room for the one true ‘hero’ to enter through us. 

“What legacy can we leave?”, Stewart asks. 

“Not our legacy”, the Christian must answer, “but yours, Lord.” 

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Article
Comment
Freedom of Belief
Politics
5 min read

The UN promised freedom of belief — but 80 years later, it’s still elusive

Flawed, fragile but still vital to those without a voice

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

Trump address the UN.
Trump addresses the 80th session of the United Nations General Assembly.
The White House.

It’s been 80 years since the United Nations was founded, at the end of the Second World War, primarily in an attempt to avoid a third global conflict. 

So on that score, at least, I suppose one must accept that the UN has achieved its primary objective. But why, then, does the overall feeling towards the organisation today seem negative? 

The UN’s founding charter outlined three other major goals alongside maintaining “international peace and security”: developing “friendly relations” among nations; international cooperation in solving economic, social, cultural or humanitarian problems; and respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, “without distinction as to race, sex, language or religion”. 

Given that the UN is comprised of 193 countries, it is perhaps little wonder that “friendly relations” and “cooperation” between all sides have not always been forthcoming, and that instead clear cliques have formed between Western countries on the one hand, and much of the rest of the world on the other. (Perhaps the clearest such clique at the moment is the 2021-founded “Group of Friends in Defence of the UN Charter”, the identities of whose members - China, North Korea, Iran, Russia, Venezuela, et al - may lead one to wonder what exactly it is in the UN charter they wish to defend. Short answer: “sovereignty”, code for doing whatever they wish, without interference.) 

As for the pursuit of “human rights” - my primary focus as an employee of an NGO - perhaps the greatest obstacle remains the lack of a truly united consensus over which rights should be included in the definition. 

The closest that the nations of the world have come to an agreement on this score was the adoption in 1948, three years after the founding of the UN, of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), which was backed by 48 of 58 member states at the time, but which failed to secure the support of others, including apartheid South Africa, the former Soviet bloc, and Saudi Arabia. 

A primary objection in the case of Saudi Arabia was to Article 18 of the declaration - the bit about religious freedom and which includes the claim that everyone should have the right to change their religion or belief, an issue that remains problematic for many of the not-so-united nations of the world today. 

The UK, meanwhile, was happy to ratify the UDHR but expressed frustration at its lack of legal force, and it was nearly 20 years before another treaty, the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, attempted to correct this.  

But while the 174 signatories to the ICCPR - including Iran, Russia, Cuba and China (though the latter two without ever ratifying the treaty) - are at least on paper legally obliged to uphold this international treaty, the challenge of enforcement remains. For example, while the signatories of the ICCPR are obliged to provide freedom of religion as defined by Article 18 of the covenant, which closely resembles the same article of the UDHR, few practical tools exist to hold to account any state that fails to meet its obligations.  

In the case of persistent violators like Iran - the focus of my work - it seems the best we can currently hope for is to see a “resolution” passed by the majority of member states, outlining the ways in which the particular violator has failed to provide its citizens with the religious freedom (among other things) that should be their right according to the international treaties it has signed, and calling on them to do better.  

But when pariahs like Iran can merely continue to deny that such failures exist, call them “biased” and “political”, and all the while prevent access to the country to the independent experts (“Special Rapporteurs”) best able to ascertain the veracity of the allegations, such “resolutions” can at times appear rather hollow. 

At the same time, for advocates of human rights in non-compliant countries like Iran, the public shaming offered by such resolutions at least provides an opportunity for otherwise voiceless victims to be heard on the international stage. And when real change inside the country can sometimes appear nigh-on-impossible, you tend to take the small wins, such as hearing the representatives of member states mentioning the names of individual victims or groups in the public arena. 

Many mentions are made, for example, about the plight of the Baha’is during every UN discussion of human rights in Iran, and while it is less common to also hear about my own area of interest - the persecution of Christians in Iran - there is usually at least one mention, which for us advocates (and we hope also the victims we represent) provides some comfort and hope for future change. 

So 80 years since the establishment of the UN, it is clear the organisation has much room for improvement, but I remain persuaded by the argument that if we didn’t have the UN, we’d have to invent it. 

“Friendly relations” - a helpfully loose term - between our disunited nations will always be a challenge, but increased economic ties globally over the past 80 years have also provided potential pressure points for those who fail to follow the rules. (If, for example, Iran wishes to see sanctions removed, Western countries can and should continue to demand improvements in the area of human rights.) 

As for the UN’s endeavour to see increased “respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms”, the question of what such rights and freedoms should entail will continue to be debated, with persistent areas of challenge including not only religious conversion but also abortion and same-sex relations. 

It is not uncommon, for example, to hear representatives of Muslim states such as Iran questioning what Western nations really mean by “human rights” and accusing them of using the term only as a “pretext” for their own “biased” agendas. 

But for all its challenges, 80 years after its establishment the UN continues to offer the only forum today where countries of contrasting beliefs can come together to discuss their differences on the world stage.  

Whether that is a worthwhile exercise remains a matter for debate, but to the degree that it is, the UN remains the primary channel through which such conversations can take place. 

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If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
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