Optimism as Punk-Rock
Elizabeth C. Walen ’28
While rewatching James Gunn’s new movie Superman at the start of this month, a seemingly trivial moment struck me more than I would’ve initially expected. This was when Clark Kent and Lois Lane were sharing a quiet moment, and Lois, ever the skeptic, tells him, “My point is I question everything and everyone. You trust everyone and think everyone you ever met is, like…beautiful.” Clark smiles and replies, “Maybe that’s the real punk rock.”At first, I believed that it was a throwaway joke. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Maybe Gunn wasn’t being ironic at all. Maybe Superman’s optimism is punk rock.
Ironically, that sentiment finds its roots in one of the most cynical and confrontational music movements in history: punk rock. In the 1970s, a band by the name of the Sex Pistols emerged in London. They ignited the punk explosion, declaring war on complacency with songs like “Anarchy in the U.K.” and “God Save the Queen.”
The Clash’s 1977 debut album tackled pressing social issues, including high unemployment, police brutality, and class struggle, while the Rock Against Racism concerts of 1978 and 1979 united musicians and activists against bigotry. From The Slits and Gang of Four’s critiques of gender and consumerism to the Dead Kennedys’s satirical assaults on Reagan-era conservatism, punk carried rebellion on its sleeve and politics in its chords.
Like Superman’s struggle against political manipulation, punk was disillusioned with the status quo yet grounded in an unshakable belief that change was possible through unity and resistance. Their resistance was often rooted in their own independence. They habitually made stereotypical signals of defiance by employing what was most readily available to them, rather than participating in a consumerist system of pre-determined meaning grounded in apathy. Even though the impact of the movement might not have accomplished all they set out to do, the refusal to participate in what they deemed to be immoral gave energy and a sense of possibility that sustained the punk movement. They often tried to move past a state of ideological fatigue, which is a result of overexposure to constant political turmoil, and sought to find means to influence individuals and systems in support of their beliefs. Hardcore bands like Black Flag, Bad Brains, and Minor Threat in the early ‘80s pushed this philosophy further, building a community that rejected capitalism's excesses and preaching independence through living a “straight edge” lifestyle of abstaining from drugs, alcohol, promiscuous sex, and even caffeine. The UK’s anarcho-punk collective Crass railed against the music industry itself, championing feminism, animal rights, and anti-war activism. Even when punk broke into the mainstream in the ’90s through Green Day, Rancid, and The Offspring, or reignited after 9/11 with Anti-Flag and Rise Against, the heart of punk remained the same: to reject authoritarianism and corporate power, embracing resistance while refusing despair.
Beneath its capes and cosmic battles, Superman is punk rock. Clark Kent’s faith in people isn’t naive; it’s rebellion. His refusal to succumb to cynicism aligns with punk’s original challenge: to believe in something real amidst the chaos. Just as the Sex Pistols and The Clash fought against systems that fed on apathy, Gunn’s Superman stands against modern disinformation, corruption, and ideological fatigue. His “punk rock” is his ethos of compassion, radical in its sincerity, subversive in its simplicity.
In the end, Superman (2025) isn’t just another superhero story. It’s a political parable about the courage to care when caring seems “uncool.” It suggests that in a world where distrust is the default, believing in humanity might be the most rebellious act of all. This is the real punk rock.