The Hulk

Every era has its Hulk. For today’s generation it’s Ang Lee’s computer-generated beast from the 2003 movie. For the generation before it, Bill Bixby and Lou Ferigno combined to portray the monster. Before that was the comic book, and before that were countless permutations ranging from Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde to the Gerasene demoniac. We have Hulks because in a sense we are Hulks, each of us capable of our own blind fury and occasionally guilty of exploiting that blind fury in others.

I’ve learned from the Hulk some critical things about leadership, which may sound absurd: who would join forces with a raging beast? Yet in the comic book universe the Hulk has been courted for partnership by two teams—the Avengers and the Defenders—and on television he has joined forces with the admittedly blind Daredevil but also the God of Thunder, Thor. If characters like these can see value in linking arms with the beast within, I’m willing to give the Hulk the benefit of the doubt.

Besides, since each of us has a little Hulk in us, it behooves us to be aware of our hulkish tendencies, restraining them where necessary and channeling them where appropriate. What follows is a summary of what I’ve learned so far; if I can keep hanging on, I hope to learn more.

Rage and Rationality
Every time you hit the Hulk, he gets a little stronger. Trouble is, he also gets a little dumber. And a little angrier. And everybody knows you wouldn’t like the Hulk when he’s angry. Getting the Hulk angry is dangerous, but it can also be strategic. In an early encounter, Spiderman found himself trapped in a cave with the Hulk. He egged the Hulk on until he was strong enough to break them free of the cave.

Spiderman had good intentions, of course, but not everyone is so benign. In the 2003 film, the Hulk’s father pushes him further and further into his fury because he has developed the ability to leech the Hulk’s energy. This makes the Hulk angrier, which makes his father more powerful, and so on.

The Hulk is vulnerable to exploitation as he rages because he loses his capacity to think clearly, but there’s a risk to his exploiters as well: he frees Spiderman from the cave by trying to kill him; his father is gradually consumed by his power. And that’s the first lesson: rage and rationality cannot comfortably coexist. Something will happen—maybe something good, but maybe something bad. There is certainly a place for anger, but if we are to be responsible users of our power, we must take into account anger’s effect on us.

The first time I led a group on a cross-cultural missions trip, I wound up hulking out in private—or so I thought. As I vented my anger in a string of expletives and the flailing about of suitcases over the immaturity and laziness of the high-schoolers I was leading, I closed the door of our van only to find a trip participant standing next to me, eyes wide and mouth agape. I said hi sheepishly, but he was too dumbstruck to even confront my failure of leadership. After the trip, he was never seen around our ministry again. Hulk had indeed smashed.

I had needed to process my anger, to distinguish how much of it was righteous and how much was simply too much personal strain all at once. More importantly, I needed to find proper channels to express my anger, and to continue to provide leadership even while I was upset. I could have confronted my students about their lack of engagement; instead I chose to let my rage fly. I could have asked for prayer or advice about the strain I was feeling from the trip; instead I bottled it till it blew up in my face. In the process I hurt a person who could have been a long-term friend.

Rage is a force that must be handled with wisdom and circumspection. For that you need time—time to put your rage to rest, time to search your own soul, time to seek your direction from God. With time even the Hulk can calm down and return to normal.

Not Everyone Is Out to Get You
The Hulk’s alter-ego, Bruce Banner, is a scientist. He thinks at the cellular level and below, seeing the points of distinction between protons and neutrons, and treating each accordingly. The Hulk, by contrast, sees two things: me and not-me. And not-me is winning. That’s partially the point of the Hulk. His is a defiant self-assertion, and in the contest of wills between Hulk and not-Hulk, no one had better take him lightly. But because he asserts himself so aggressively, he is met in kind, so that his “me against the world” mentality ultimately turns the world against him.

It’s simply not the case that the world is out to get the Hulk, or any of us, for that matter. In reality we will encounter three types of agendas: one that seeks our benefit, one that seeks our harm, and one that gives no thought to us whatsoever. Most of us follow the third category by default, but when we take on the mantle of leadership we’re forced to contend with the other two.

A man who was starting a ministry sent my friend a letter with an impressive list of accomplishments. My friend and I knew this man and, setting aside how much he had stretched the details of his ministry history, we marveled at the fact that, with only the letter as evidence, we would have to conclude that he did it all by himself, with no help from anyone. In reality, we were among the many people who had contributed actively to his ministry successes. In the process of promoting his own cause, however, he had apparently come to think of the people around him as disposable appliances designed to serve his purposes until their usefulness to him wore out.

At the time, my company was deep in discussion about the principles found in Jim Collins’s book Good to Great. There he cites as a sure sign of success the presence of a “level 5 leader”—someone fiercely devoted to an organizational mission but supremely shy of the spotlight. Great leaders, according to Collins, recognize their own limitations and honor the skills and gifts of others, and work toward their advancement. That takes humility—an ability to personalize your leadership just enough to be passionate in it but not so much that you abandon the obligation to serve and nurture those you lead.

The Hulk isn’t smart enough to see ways of connecting his goals to the goals of others, nor is he wise enough to understand that doing so requires a relationship of mutual concern and empowerment. For the Hulk—and for far too many of us—to empower others is to threaten ourselves.

Power Is Lonely
Of course, despite the benefits of leadership, leaders pay a heavy price for their power. The Hulk, more powerful in sheer strength than anyone in his universe, lives in near-total isolation from the world around him. This condition is partly self-imposed—a consequence of his “me against the world” mentality—but in a way the Hulk’s world quarantines him as a matter of course. In the television series, the Hulk becomes a drifter, moving from place to place as his secret comes out. In the comic book, those who know his secret either hunt him down or keep a safe distance. Either way, the Hulk often finds himself facing extremely difficult circumstances, or even mild inconveniences, completely alone.

Sound familiar? You can imagine the scenarios: a new dean moves across country, but her professors don’t help her settle in or invite her for a meal out of concern for appearances or professional boundaries. A senior pastor is told by the elders not to warn his fifteen-year staff that layoffs are coming. A CEO mourns the death of his father alone, fearing the consequences of showing a lack of strength even for a moment.

It’s amazing how much vulnerability is attached to power. We are taught that leaders are strong, and we wouldn’t know what to do with a display of weakness. We surround them with “support” staff and “share”-holders, but ultimately we leave them alone to face the relational and vocational stresses that their work exposes them to. To a degree such solitude is unavoidable—power isn’t often held easily or shared efficiently. But what leaders must seek out for themselves is what a hierarchical system can rarely provide: practical, sympathetic, objective support from peers. Moses wished for such a group and would not refuse their companionship (Exodus 18; Numbers 11). The Hulk would do well to follow Moses’ example, and so would we.

The Discipline of Chaos
Fundamentally, the Hulk operates in chaos. He faces circumstances out of his control and succumbs to the rage that boils his blood. It’s a tragedy, because within the Hulk is a wise, intelligent, moral, compassionate person.

In fact, the Hulk came to be as an accident of his alter-ego’s compassion. In order to save the life of another person, Bruce Banner sacrificed his own safety. In the comic book, he entered the blast site of a gamma ray bomb to help a teenager get out of the blast’s range. He was hit with radiation that otherwise would have killed the boy. In the movie, Bruce shielded a colleague from a radiation leak. The colleague was saved, and the Hulk was unleashed.

But that’s what good leaders do: they see areas of concern and lead others through them. They protect the people under their care. Often we face chaos as leaders—unforeseen circumstances or simply the clash of multiple agendas and biases—and allow it to overwhelm us. Often the collateral damage of our efforts—even our successes—lingers long in our experience. Sometimes we even end up making chaos by hulking out against others when the pressure gets too much, or isolating ourselves to protect them and us from our inner beast. But chaos is inevitable, and the challenge to every leader is to lead people through to the other side.

A leader must acknowledge the problem of isolation that is felt most acutely when chaos reigns. We need enough self-awareness to recognize when we need to delegate work or seek out a fresh perspective. We must find people who will let us be frustrated or anxious in their presence.

A leader must have in place reminders that, while politics are a reality in group dynamics, most people will be driven largely by their vision for the group. Leaders can work with that and share the load of advancing their group’s mission.

A leader must recognize where emotions come into conflict with rationality when making decisions or taking action, and must decide which impulse is more to be trusted. In all this, leaders will feel the inherent tension between the sin that plagues the human condition and the enormous strength that God has given us. The Hulk is hardly safe, but he can be good. The God who calls us to leadership sees that in us as well.

—David A. Zimmerman is the author of the forthcoming bookComic Book Character: Unleashing the Hero in Us All. His weekly column, "Strangely Dim," can be found at www.ivpress.com/campus/sd/.