When they did the reboot of Battlestar Galactica, everyone told me how good it was. I hated it.
I remember the original. Yes, I'm that old. There were villains you loved to hate, and heroic figures, young and old, that were inspirational. The soundtrack was powerful and got your blood pumping. The Cylons were iconic. It was epic.
The new Battlestar Galactica had no heroic figures. Everyone was so deeply flawed that they were virtually indistinguishable from the villains. I'm not asking for perfect heroes. No one likes those, but I don't want heroes who are morally bankrupt, broken, damaged, or deranged. I want heroes who are inspirational.
The Decline of True Heroes: Why Morally Grey Characters in Modern Stories Are a Problem
In today's movies, TV shows, and literature, the "morally grey hero" is everywhere. These protagonists blur the lines between good and evil, make selfish or outright immoral choices, and often succeed (or at least survive) despite, or because of, their deep flaws. Critics praise them for "realism" and complexity in a complicated world. But I argue they're bad for storytelling and for us as audiences. They promote moral relativism and cynicism, strip stories of inspiration and aspirational value, and leave us without clear role models or cathartic lessons. Instead of celebrating virtue or warning against vice, they normalize darkness and make it hard to truly root for anyone. Let's break it down, starting with one of the clearest examples of this shift: the Battlestar Galactica reboot.
Battlestar Galactica: From Clear Heroes to a Fleet of Flawed Survivors
The original 1978 Battlestar Galactica was a classic space opera in the vein of Star Wars; campy, fun, and morally straightforward. Commander Adama (Lorne Greene) was the wise, steadfast patriarch guiding humanity. Captain Apollo was the noble, heroic pilot. Starbuck (Dirk Benedict) was a charming, womanizing rogue who still fought squarely on the side of good. The Cylons were cartoonish evil robots. The show celebrated human resilience, leadership, and virtue in black-and-white terms.
The 2003–2009 reboot completely rewrote the script for "depth." It turned characters into deeply flawed, often unlikeable figures grappling with trauma, ego, and survival ethics in a post-9/11 world. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace (Katee Sackhoff) is a gifted pilot but reckless, alcoholic, abrasive, and self-destructive. Her childhood trauma fuels impulsive decisions and insubordination that put the fleet at risk.
Commander William Adama (Edward James Olmos) is pragmatic but authoritarian, making harsh compromises and political deals that blur moral lines. Even President Laura Roslin is a master manipulator who rigs elections, lies constantly, and weighs extreme measures (including against civilians or children) while claiming the moral high ground. Supporting characters like Boomer become literal traitors (a secret Cylon sleeper agent), and nearly everyone commits betrayals, torture, or worse in the name of survival. They are no different than Gaius Baltar, who starts as a narcissistic opportunist whose actions enable genocide and spirals into delusion, collaboration, and cult-like manipulation.
The reboot added profound political and philosophical layers, debates on terrorism, religion, democracy's corruption, and humanity's worth, but at what cost? The constant grey areas and "both sides are monstrous" vibe make it exhausting to invest emotionally. Instead of an uplifting epic about humanity's best qualities triumphing, it becomes a grim meditation on whether flawed people deserve to survive at all. This "realism" might feel adult, but it replaces inspiration with cynicism.
Other Examples of Morally Grey "Heroes" in Movies and Literature
This trend isn't unique to Battlestar Galactica. Modern stories are full of protagonists with deep moral failings we’re still expected to follow or empathize with. In movies, Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, 2003) is a self-serving pirate whose allegiances shift with whatever benefits him most, chaos, manipulation, and vague chivalry included. Charles Foster Kane (Citizen Kane, 1941) builds an empire through ruthless choices that leave him isolated and empty.
In literature, examples abound. Michael Corleone in Mario Puzo’s novel *The Godfather* (1969) begins as a reluctant outsider and war hero but transforms into a cold, calculating mafia boss who orders murders and betrayals in the name of "family." Scarlett O’Hara in Margaret Mitchell’s *Gone with the Wind* (1936) survives war and hardship through selfishness, manipulation, and moral flexibility that would horrify earlier literary heroines. These characters are compelling, but by centering and sometimes glamorizing their failings, ego, violence, deceit, they risk making immorality thrilling rather than cautionary.
Enduring Heroes: Timeless Figures That Have Lasted for Centuries
Thankfully, literature still offers heroic figures who have endured for hundreds or thousands of years precisely because they embody aspirational virtues rather than wallowing in flaws. Beowulf, from the anonymous Old English epic (composed around the 8th–11th centuries), is a monster-slaying warrior of immense courage and loyalty. He risks everything to protect his people from Grendel and a dragon, prioritizing honor and self-sacrifice over personal glory. His story endures because it celebrates what humanity achieves at its best.
Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey (circa 8th century BC) endures a decade of trials through cleverness and perseverance, driven by duty to return home to his family and kingdom. Aeneas in Virgil’s Aeneid (1st century BC) exemplifies pietas (pious duty), sacrificing personal happiness (including love) to fulfill his destiny of founding Rome. These characters (along with folk heroes like Robin Hood) have lasted across centuries because they inspire courage, resilience, and sacrifice. We still read them because they lift us up, not drag us into relativism.
Distinguishing Tragic Heroes Like Hamlet from Contemporary Grey Protagonists
Importantly, we must distinguish classical tragic heroes from today’s morally compromised protagonists. Tragic heroes, like Hamlet, are fundamentally noble figures of high status with a single fatal flaw (hamartia), in Hamlet’s case, crippling indecision and overthinking. He seeks rightful justice for his father’s murder with good intentions, but that flaw leads to widespread tragedy and his own downfall. The structure evokes pity and fear, delivering catharsis and a moral lesson about human limits. Hamlet doesn’t "win" through immorality; his nobility is affirmed even in ruin.
Contemporary grey protagonists with deep moral failings operate differently. Their flaws (ruthlessness, narcissism, criminality) are pervasive, not a single tragic trait, and the story often lets them succeed, thrive, or at least avoid full classical downfall. We’re invited to root for or empathize with their darkness without strong condemnation or redemptive order. Michael Corleone’s arc in The Godfather turns him into a monster, but the narrative portrays his rise as powerful and inevitable. Dorian Gray in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891) indulges in hedonism, corruption, and murder for eternal youth—his failings are the point, not a cautionary fall from nobility. These stories explore the grey zone but can leave us complicit in the moral ambiguity rather than wiser or inspired.
In the end, morally grey "heroes" aren’t inherently unwatchable or unreadable, they can be fascinating. But their dominance in modern storytelling risks turning literature and film into mirrors of our worst impulses instead of windows to our best. We need more true heroes like Beowulf or Aeneas, and more classical tragic figures like Hamlet, to remind us of virtue, duty, and the cost of flaws. Otherwise, we’re left adrift in a fleet of ruined, broken "heroes" with no one worth following. What do you think, do you crave pure heroes, tragic catharsis, or the messy grey? Drop your thoughts below.
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