X-Men: First Class Meta: A Response to Nussbaum's Critique
"The X-Men, Evolution, and Non-Allegorical Interpretation"
In her commentary on X-Men: First Class, Abigail Nussbaum argues that the film unintentionally downplays Nazi atrocities and promotes anti-Israeli sentiment by equating dominant Western culture's fear of the Jewish "other" with non-mutant humanity's arguably justifiable fear of dangerously powerful mutants, the unfortunate implication being that fear of the Jewish other may be justified. Nussbaum, oaktree89, and others make important observations about the problematic linking of Jewishness, villainy, and the dangers of mutation in the plotline of Erik Lehnsherr. However, Nussbaum's reading of The X-Men as a "parable" for social issues such as homosexuality and Jewishness oversimplifies its symbolic structure. I would argue that The X-Men (the franchise and its specific iterations) is most sociologically useful when it is read not an as allegory for real-world issues but rather as applicable to them.
Allegory vs. Applicability
To explain my usage of "allegory" vs. "applicability," let me fall back on The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien cautioned against reading his book through an allegorical lens in which A represents B. What, for example, would the Ring represent? Drug addiction? The atomic bomb? The nature of original sin? If one attempts to explain the Ring in terms of any of these readings, their inadequacy becomes clear. If the Ring represents drug addiction, for instance, does that mean being addicted to drugs gives you the superhuman power to cover all the lands in darkness? The Ring can't be read as an allegory in this way. However, it is "applicable" to all these issues; it resonates with them. The Ring does embody of the terror of a weapon of mass destruction. It illuminates the mental imbalance associated with drug addiction. Its ability to corrupt the purest of heart speaks to a universal fall in the mythological past.
The X-Men, too, is a multifaceted social commentary that is applicable to many issues but cannot be reduced a "parable" of them. Nussbaum is, of course, correct that the narrative relates mutation to homosexuality and to Jewishness (also to the Civil Rights Movement, etc.). And she raises a powerful objection to the equation of mutation with these social variances:
"The use of mutants as a metaphor for Jews is problematic in several ways. At the most basic level, it's a problem because, no more than homosexuals, Jews are not a separate species with superpowers. It's been the core flaw of the X-Men films that even as they deliberately recall various real-world instances of prejudice and persecution, they provide concrete evidence for the danger that the mutants pose--they possess extraordinary powers that, when left untrained or simply placed in the wrong hands, allow them to commit crimes with impunity, destabilize the foundations of society, or become unstoppable killing machines. "
The very fact that she has read the story as conflating Jews, homosexuals, etc. with this "separate species" demonstrates that the reading is possible, and she is absolutely correct that this conflation is dangerous and degrading. However, this conflation is not the only way to read The X-Men. I would argue that figuring mutants as a separate species, while it enables problematic readings, is not "a core flaw." It's not just a misuse of symbolism; it's a meaningful symbol in its own right. With regard to their superpowers, mutants do not primarily represent contemporary social groups who lack privilege. They do, indeed, actually represent a superpowered humanity.
Discourses of Evolution, Eugenics, and Physical Power
In this respect, The X-Men is nearer hard science fiction than contemporary allegorical social commentary. It is looking not at the present but toward the future, examining the social ramifications of a new physical development, in this case, "mutation." Though its science is fanciful and something of a gimmick for superhero daring-do, the narrative is, in fact, about evolution and its corollaries, eugenics and genetic engineering. Read as a work of evolutionary discourse, The X-Men stands as a latecomer in a long lineage of evolutionary-eugenic literature, including Edward Bulwer Lytton's Vril: The Power of the Coming Race (1871), H. G. Wells's The Food of the Gods (1904) and Men Like Gods (1923), George Bernard Shaw's Man and Superman (1903) and Back to Methuselah (1921), Olaf Stapledon's Last and First Men (1930) and Odd John (1935) and, latterly, Frank Herbert's Dune (1965) and J. Michael Straczynski's Babylon 5 (1993-97).
Before World War II, the idea that we should use eugenics to promote the evolution of humanity into a "higher" form was common, and Nazi eugenics--while much more dogmatic, scientifically ill-informed, and rabidly racist than many manifestations of this vision--was certainly enmeshed in it. An assumption that the "higher" form has an a priori moral right to dominate the "lower" form is pervasive. In Odd John, for example, the superman, John, calls his mere human companion "Fido" and blithely recounts to "Fido" how his colony of superhumans wiped out the natives of the island they wished to settle: "We might have kept them alive on the island, as domestic animals, but this would have wrecked our plans. It would also have undermined the natives spiritually. So we decided to destroy them" (Chapter 18). Fido is troubled by this but reflects, "But who am I that I should judge beings who in daily contact with me constantly proved themselves my superiors not only in intelligence but in moral insight?" (Chapter 18).
The extreme perversion of this already disturbing discourse by the Nazis quashed most discussion of eugenics in the aftermath of World War II. There is no question that the backlash against eugenics contributed vastly to the fight against racism and racist pseudoscience. However, another consequence of this silencing was that core ethical issues surrounding eugenics have remained unresolved (even largely unexplored in dominant post-World War II culture). The central issue is the hierarchical concept of "superiority." How do we define it? Do we even believe in it? In X-Men: First Class, when Erik says, evolutionarily speaking, that mutants are the better men, do we (dis)agree with him? On what grounds? If superiority is an outmoded concept, does that mean chimpanzees are "equal" to humans? If so, on what grounds do we keep them in cages and use them in medical experiments? And if superiority remains a useful concept, then what defines it? Physical power? Mental power? Moral compass? We already live in an age where genetic engineering to enhance certain traits is all but possible; it will certainly be accessible as a technology in twenty years. Should we use it? Such ethical issues surrounding genetic enhancement are real and have been the subject of recent social commentary by critics such as Francis Fukuyama.
As a contributor to evolutionary discourse within science-fantasy literature, The X-Men's ideological positioning is close to that the movie, GATTACA, which explores the utopian/dystopian consequences of the eugenic enhancement of most humans at the expense of the unmodified humans who can no longer effectively compete. The X-Men engages with these issues by posing the central question: how would society respond to divergence of the human race into a "normal" branch and branch that, as Nussbaum rightly notes, possesses potentially devastating power? This question is foundational to the philosophical relevance of the narrative.
The narrative's main answers are twofold: the Xavier answer: "Both branches can and must learn to get along," and the Magneto answer: "The more powerful branch will destroy the less powerful one." In comics canon, Xavier and Magneto have been fighting about it for something like fifty years. And there's a reason (apart from comic book franchising) that half a century hasn't reconciled their differences. They are both right, and they are both wrong. The Xavier view is certainly a preferable path toward peace and integration on a day-to-day level, but Nussbaum implicitly sums up its long-term naiveté: it only takes a small number of powerful, belligerent mutants to "destabilize the foundations of society, or become unstoppable killing machines." Predicating one's social system on the idea that this will never happen on a devastating level is a bit like assuming that a terrorist group will never get its hands on a nuclear bomb, no matter how many old nukes are floating around on black markets. It's unrealistic. But while the Magneto position is more realist, it doesn't provide any reasonable solutions. What are the likely possibilities: humans, still having the upper hand in numbers, might exterminate mutants; mutants might exterminate (or enslave) humans; the conflict might destroy the world as we know it for everyone. What then? Let's say Magneto gets his wish and the mutants "outcompete" humans to become the dominant (or eventually only) "human" species. The core problem remains: they are still superpowered and dangerous. It is still naive to assume that mass destruction will never occur, that a few crazy mutants will never turn against other mutants. As a discussion of the use of vast power, The X-Men is an (almost) no-win scenario, the genuine complexity of which is a main driver in the longevity and critical acclaim of the franchise.
All of this sounds much more fanciful and less relevant than how the narrative influences the current treatment of Jews of homosexuals, and on some levels it is. But if its relevance is not present in the daily reality of people contending with prejudice, it is paramount for our future. We may not live in a world of mutants, but we do live in world of nuclear proliferation and vast potentials for bio-warfare, to say nothing of pollution, climate change, habitat destruction, etc. To assume that we ourselves can use social justice as "a way out" that can perpetually postpone the massive destruction our species is so readily capable of enacting is as naive as Xavier-ism.*
The Xavier/Magneto contention over how to respond to species divergence and power differentials (or just the command of tremendous power) is relevant, indeed vital, on a level distinct from the text's commentary on the marginalization of the "other." Magneto is a Jew, and he is mutant, and he (like the audience) inevitably draws parallels between his two experiences of oppression. But his Jewishness and his mutant-ness are not equivalent. The one, as Nussbaum correctly observes, is a social positioning that can peaceably coexist alongside countless others; the other is a categorically different quality of existence that makes him--actually or potentially--an extreme danger to the people around him. That the two can be conflated is unfortunate, and it is necessary to keep unpacking the consequences of doing so. But that the two identities are not equivalent is not a flaw; it is a sign of the multiplicity of a philosophically challenging narrative that cannot be reduced to a simple allegory.
Villainy
Nussbaum faults X-Men: First Class for constructing Erik as a supervillain who is condemned by the narrative for being angry over the atrocities he has suffered and not able/willing to follow Charles's exhortation to seek peace. She cites the famous chess conversation scene:
"Charles tells Erik that killing will not bring him peace; Erik replies that peace was never his goal. This is the moment that's meant to define them as hero and villain--Charles, the man of peace; Erik, who embraces killing. To my mind it's actually the moment that sums up the film's moral bankruptcy. Charles is the hero because he thinks peace of mind is more important than punishing a mass murderer. Erik is the villain because he can't stop being angry at the person who murdered his mother in front of him."
I find it fascinating that Nussbaum's reaction to this scene is diametrically opposed to my own. She calls this interchange, "the moment that sums up the film's moral bankruptcy." For me, seeing this interchange in the trailer marked the moment when I was certain the film would fulfill my hopes of seeing the challenging and multifaceted moral discourse that typifies The X-Men at its best.
Nussbaum is correct that Charles's desire for "peace" is intended as laudable, and I think, in and of itself, it is laudable. She is also correct that the narrative does not give Charles's naive hopes for peace a free pass: "In fairness, First Class doesn't entirely validate Charles's point of view--his classically assimilationist belief that if only mutants can prove that they are model citizens, humanity will embrace them is dealt a hard dose of reality at the film's end when the people he's just helped save from nuclear war band together to kill him...." This irony notwithstanding, she is correct, too, that the film does not much explore his situatedness as a privileged person and, thus, tends to universalize his discourse as objectively "good." However, he is certainly not presented as entirely right.
Nor is Erik presented as entirely wrong. A point of clarification: Nussbaum's paraphrase of Erik's position as "peace was never his goal" seems to miss an important shade of meaning. He says, "Peace was never an option": not that he doesn't seek it but that it is impossible (and, therefore, not worth bothering to seek). Erik is justifiably very angry, but his dictum is not only an emotional statement. Rather, it is the inception of the "Magneto" position as an ideological stance: some groups (or individuals) cannot exist together; it is not realistically possible. To me, this hardly seems an expression of "villainy," which conjures images of moral abdication, corruption, etc. It is, indeed, an expression of an angry, "hardline" sociopolitical stance, which it is possible to criticize. But it expresses a moral system: a set of beliefs about human nature and how to address it, which--as I've discussed above--are cogent in some respects.
Nussbaum argues that while Erik's position--his anger, etc.--is, indeed, defensible or, at the very least, entirely understandable, the narrative does not present it as such. In terms of plot events, she notes, Erik ends up by donning the Magneto helmet, almost killing many people, and embarking on a career we know will lead him to harm many more people. This is absolutely an expression of his beliefs about peace and coexistence. But while these actions make him morally problematic--and he is, of course, the great antagonist of the franchise structurally--I don't think this figures him simplistically as a "villain"--or Charles as always an unvarnished "hero."
Stan Lee, who created Magneto in 1963 (and who, if it matters, is a Jew), has stated that he "did not think of Magneto as a bad guy. He just wanted to strike back at the people who were so bigoted and racist... he was trying to defend the mutants, and because society was not treating them fairly he was going to teach society a lesson. He was a danger of course... but I never thought of him as a villain" (Marvel Spotlight via Wikipedia). Now, what Lee intended is not necessarily what is the case, certainly not for a specific rendering of the character in 2011, but for what it's worth, I stand with him: I have never perceived Magneto as a villain, except in some specific instances of poor writing, such as X3. I would not include X-Men: First Class among these. Rather, I would place it on the higher end of complex X-Men discourse that shows a decent awareness of genuine thorniness of the core Xavier/Magneto ideological divide.
Obviously, my response comes out of my own situatedness as Nussbaum's out of hers. As with Charles and Erik, both our views may have their validity and their problems. I intend mainly to put forward that another interpretation of the film's meta-narrative coding of Charles and and Erik is possible.
Conclusion
All of this is not to say that the discourse of Jewishness in X-Men: First Class is not problematic; it is. And it deserves to be prodded so that its problematic dimensions can be unpacked to enable more socially aware and nuanced storytelling in the future. However, the reduction of this narrative to a failed allegory of Jewish experience that condemns the anger of the victimized and condones the fear of the oppressors does a disservice to the film's multidimensionality and genuine philosophical complexity.
* I stand with H. G. Wells here in seeing one long-term way out: develop space travel ASAP and start forming colonies so that the vast majority of terrestrial life won't be destroyed if/when we destroy the Earth as we know it.
In her commentary on X-Men: First Class, Abigail Nussbaum argues that the film unintentionally downplays Nazi atrocities and promotes anti-Israeli sentiment by equating dominant Western culture's fear of the Jewish "other" with non-mutant humanity's arguably justifiable fear of dangerously powerful mutants, the unfortunate implication being that fear of the Jewish other may be justified. Nussbaum, oaktree89, and others make important observations about the problematic linking of Jewishness, villainy, and the dangers of mutation in the plotline of Erik Lehnsherr. However, Nussbaum's reading of The X-Men as a "parable" for social issues such as homosexuality and Jewishness oversimplifies its symbolic structure. I would argue that The X-Men (the franchise and its specific iterations) is most sociologically useful when it is read not an as allegory for real-world issues but rather as applicable to them.
Allegory vs. Applicability
To explain my usage of "allegory" vs. "applicability," let me fall back on The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien cautioned against reading his book through an allegorical lens in which A represents B. What, for example, would the Ring represent? Drug addiction? The atomic bomb? The nature of original sin? If one attempts to explain the Ring in terms of any of these readings, their inadequacy becomes clear. If the Ring represents drug addiction, for instance, does that mean being addicted to drugs gives you the superhuman power to cover all the lands in darkness? The Ring can't be read as an allegory in this way. However, it is "applicable" to all these issues; it resonates with them. The Ring does embody of the terror of a weapon of mass destruction. It illuminates the mental imbalance associated with drug addiction. Its ability to corrupt the purest of heart speaks to a universal fall in the mythological past.
The X-Men, too, is a multifaceted social commentary that is applicable to many issues but cannot be reduced a "parable" of them. Nussbaum is, of course, correct that the narrative relates mutation to homosexuality and to Jewishness (also to the Civil Rights Movement, etc.). And she raises a powerful objection to the equation of mutation with these social variances:
"The use of mutants as a metaphor for Jews is problematic in several ways. At the most basic level, it's a problem because, no more than homosexuals, Jews are not a separate species with superpowers. It's been the core flaw of the X-Men films that even as they deliberately recall various real-world instances of prejudice and persecution, they provide concrete evidence for the danger that the mutants pose--they possess extraordinary powers that, when left untrained or simply placed in the wrong hands, allow them to commit crimes with impunity, destabilize the foundations of society, or become unstoppable killing machines. "
The very fact that she has read the story as conflating Jews, homosexuals, etc. with this "separate species" demonstrates that the reading is possible, and she is absolutely correct that this conflation is dangerous and degrading. However, this conflation is not the only way to read The X-Men. I would argue that figuring mutants as a separate species, while it enables problematic readings, is not "a core flaw." It's not just a misuse of symbolism; it's a meaningful symbol in its own right. With regard to their superpowers, mutants do not primarily represent contemporary social groups who lack privilege. They do, indeed, actually represent a superpowered humanity.
Discourses of Evolution, Eugenics, and Physical Power
In this respect, The X-Men is nearer hard science fiction than contemporary allegorical social commentary. It is looking not at the present but toward the future, examining the social ramifications of a new physical development, in this case, "mutation." Though its science is fanciful and something of a gimmick for superhero daring-do, the narrative is, in fact, about evolution and its corollaries, eugenics and genetic engineering. Read as a work of evolutionary discourse, The X-Men stands as a latecomer in a long lineage of evolutionary-eugenic literature, including Edward Bulwer Lytton's Vril: The Power of the Coming Race (1871), H. G. Wells's The Food of the Gods (1904) and Men Like Gods (1923), George Bernard Shaw's Man and Superman (1903) and Back to Methuselah (1921), Olaf Stapledon's Last and First Men (1930) and Odd John (1935) and, latterly, Frank Herbert's Dune (1965) and J. Michael Straczynski's Babylon 5 (1993-97).
Before World War II, the idea that we should use eugenics to promote the evolution of humanity into a "higher" form was common, and Nazi eugenics--while much more dogmatic, scientifically ill-informed, and rabidly racist than many manifestations of this vision--was certainly enmeshed in it. An assumption that the "higher" form has an a priori moral right to dominate the "lower" form is pervasive. In Odd John, for example, the superman, John, calls his mere human companion "Fido" and blithely recounts to "Fido" how his colony of superhumans wiped out the natives of the island they wished to settle: "We might have kept them alive on the island, as domestic animals, but this would have wrecked our plans. It would also have undermined the natives spiritually. So we decided to destroy them" (Chapter 18). Fido is troubled by this but reflects, "But who am I that I should judge beings who in daily contact with me constantly proved themselves my superiors not only in intelligence but in moral insight?" (Chapter 18).
The extreme perversion of this already disturbing discourse by the Nazis quashed most discussion of eugenics in the aftermath of World War II. There is no question that the backlash against eugenics contributed vastly to the fight against racism and racist pseudoscience. However, another consequence of this silencing was that core ethical issues surrounding eugenics have remained unresolved (even largely unexplored in dominant post-World War II culture). The central issue is the hierarchical concept of "superiority." How do we define it? Do we even believe in it? In X-Men: First Class, when Erik says, evolutionarily speaking, that mutants are the better men, do we (dis)agree with him? On what grounds? If superiority is an outmoded concept, does that mean chimpanzees are "equal" to humans? If so, on what grounds do we keep them in cages and use them in medical experiments? And if superiority remains a useful concept, then what defines it? Physical power? Mental power? Moral compass? We already live in an age where genetic engineering to enhance certain traits is all but possible; it will certainly be accessible as a technology in twenty years. Should we use it? Such ethical issues surrounding genetic enhancement are real and have been the subject of recent social commentary by critics such as Francis Fukuyama.
As a contributor to evolutionary discourse within science-fantasy literature, The X-Men's ideological positioning is close to that the movie, GATTACA, which explores the utopian/dystopian consequences of the eugenic enhancement of most humans at the expense of the unmodified humans who can no longer effectively compete. The X-Men engages with these issues by posing the central question: how would society respond to divergence of the human race into a "normal" branch and branch that, as Nussbaum rightly notes, possesses potentially devastating power? This question is foundational to the philosophical relevance of the narrative.
The narrative's main answers are twofold: the Xavier answer: "Both branches can and must learn to get along," and the Magneto answer: "The more powerful branch will destroy the less powerful one." In comics canon, Xavier and Magneto have been fighting about it for something like fifty years. And there's a reason (apart from comic book franchising) that half a century hasn't reconciled their differences. They are both right, and they are both wrong. The Xavier view is certainly a preferable path toward peace and integration on a day-to-day level, but Nussbaum implicitly sums up its long-term naiveté: it only takes a small number of powerful, belligerent mutants to "destabilize the foundations of society, or become unstoppable killing machines." Predicating one's social system on the idea that this will never happen on a devastating level is a bit like assuming that a terrorist group will never get its hands on a nuclear bomb, no matter how many old nukes are floating around on black markets. It's unrealistic. But while the Magneto position is more realist, it doesn't provide any reasonable solutions. What are the likely possibilities: humans, still having the upper hand in numbers, might exterminate mutants; mutants might exterminate (or enslave) humans; the conflict might destroy the world as we know it for everyone. What then? Let's say Magneto gets his wish and the mutants "outcompete" humans to become the dominant (or eventually only) "human" species. The core problem remains: they are still superpowered and dangerous. It is still naive to assume that mass destruction will never occur, that a few crazy mutants will never turn against other mutants. As a discussion of the use of vast power, The X-Men is an (almost) no-win scenario, the genuine complexity of which is a main driver in the longevity and critical acclaim of the franchise.
All of this sounds much more fanciful and less relevant than how the narrative influences the current treatment of Jews of homosexuals, and on some levels it is. But if its relevance is not present in the daily reality of people contending with prejudice, it is paramount for our future. We may not live in a world of mutants, but we do live in world of nuclear proliferation and vast potentials for bio-warfare, to say nothing of pollution, climate change, habitat destruction, etc. To assume that we ourselves can use social justice as "a way out" that can perpetually postpone the massive destruction our species is so readily capable of enacting is as naive as Xavier-ism.*
The Xavier/Magneto contention over how to respond to species divergence and power differentials (or just the command of tremendous power) is relevant, indeed vital, on a level distinct from the text's commentary on the marginalization of the "other." Magneto is a Jew, and he is mutant, and he (like the audience) inevitably draws parallels between his two experiences of oppression. But his Jewishness and his mutant-ness are not equivalent. The one, as Nussbaum correctly observes, is a social positioning that can peaceably coexist alongside countless others; the other is a categorically different quality of existence that makes him--actually or potentially--an extreme danger to the people around him. That the two can be conflated is unfortunate, and it is necessary to keep unpacking the consequences of doing so. But that the two identities are not equivalent is not a flaw; it is a sign of the multiplicity of a philosophically challenging narrative that cannot be reduced to a simple allegory.
Villainy
Nussbaum faults X-Men: First Class for constructing Erik as a supervillain who is condemned by the narrative for being angry over the atrocities he has suffered and not able/willing to follow Charles's exhortation to seek peace. She cites the famous chess conversation scene:
"Charles tells Erik that killing will not bring him peace; Erik replies that peace was never his goal. This is the moment that's meant to define them as hero and villain--Charles, the man of peace; Erik, who embraces killing. To my mind it's actually the moment that sums up the film's moral bankruptcy. Charles is the hero because he thinks peace of mind is more important than punishing a mass murderer. Erik is the villain because he can't stop being angry at the person who murdered his mother in front of him."
I find it fascinating that Nussbaum's reaction to this scene is diametrically opposed to my own. She calls this interchange, "the moment that sums up the film's moral bankruptcy." For me, seeing this interchange in the trailer marked the moment when I was certain the film would fulfill my hopes of seeing the challenging and multifaceted moral discourse that typifies The X-Men at its best.
Nussbaum is correct that Charles's desire for "peace" is intended as laudable, and I think, in and of itself, it is laudable. She is also correct that the narrative does not give Charles's naive hopes for peace a free pass: "In fairness, First Class doesn't entirely validate Charles's point of view--his classically assimilationist belief that if only mutants can prove that they are model citizens, humanity will embrace them is dealt a hard dose of reality at the film's end when the people he's just helped save from nuclear war band together to kill him...." This irony notwithstanding, she is correct, too, that the film does not much explore his situatedness as a privileged person and, thus, tends to universalize his discourse as objectively "good." However, he is certainly not presented as entirely right.
Nor is Erik presented as entirely wrong. A point of clarification: Nussbaum's paraphrase of Erik's position as "peace was never his goal" seems to miss an important shade of meaning. He says, "Peace was never an option": not that he doesn't seek it but that it is impossible (and, therefore, not worth bothering to seek). Erik is justifiably very angry, but his dictum is not only an emotional statement. Rather, it is the inception of the "Magneto" position as an ideological stance: some groups (or individuals) cannot exist together; it is not realistically possible. To me, this hardly seems an expression of "villainy," which conjures images of moral abdication, corruption, etc. It is, indeed, an expression of an angry, "hardline" sociopolitical stance, which it is possible to criticize. But it expresses a moral system: a set of beliefs about human nature and how to address it, which--as I've discussed above--are cogent in some respects.
Nussbaum argues that while Erik's position--his anger, etc.--is, indeed, defensible or, at the very least, entirely understandable, the narrative does not present it as such. In terms of plot events, she notes, Erik ends up by donning the Magneto helmet, almost killing many people, and embarking on a career we know will lead him to harm many more people. This is absolutely an expression of his beliefs about peace and coexistence. But while these actions make him morally problematic--and he is, of course, the great antagonist of the franchise structurally--I don't think this figures him simplistically as a "villain"--or Charles as always an unvarnished "hero."
Stan Lee, who created Magneto in 1963 (and who, if it matters, is a Jew), has stated that he "did not think of Magneto as a bad guy. He just wanted to strike back at the people who were so bigoted and racist... he was trying to defend the mutants, and because society was not treating them fairly he was going to teach society a lesson. He was a danger of course... but I never thought of him as a villain" (Marvel Spotlight via Wikipedia). Now, what Lee intended is not necessarily what is the case, certainly not for a specific rendering of the character in 2011, but for what it's worth, I stand with him: I have never perceived Magneto as a villain, except in some specific instances of poor writing, such as X3. I would not include X-Men: First Class among these. Rather, I would place it on the higher end of complex X-Men discourse that shows a decent awareness of genuine thorniness of the core Xavier/Magneto ideological divide.
Obviously, my response comes out of my own situatedness as Nussbaum's out of hers. As with Charles and Erik, both our views may have their validity and their problems. I intend mainly to put forward that another interpretation of the film's meta-narrative coding of Charles and and Erik is possible.
Conclusion
All of this is not to say that the discourse of Jewishness in X-Men: First Class is not problematic; it is. And it deserves to be prodded so that its problematic dimensions can be unpacked to enable more socially aware and nuanced storytelling in the future. However, the reduction of this narrative to a failed allegory of Jewish experience that condemns the anger of the victimized and condones the fear of the oppressors does a disservice to the film's multidimensionality and genuine philosophical complexity.
* I stand with H. G. Wells here in seeing one long-term way out: develop space travel ASAP and start forming colonies so that the vast majority of terrestrial life won't be destroyed if/when we destroy the Earth as we know it.