By Júlio Bernabé
It’s been nearly a decade since I first wrote about Superman’s existential void — that symbolic figure who tries to shoulder everything alone, without needing anyone. The world has changed since then, but not profoundly. At heart, people remain much the same as they were decades ago. The sense of helplessness endures, merely shifting its form.
We now live under the weight of hyperconnectivity — a network that links us to what fails to nourish us. It casts a haze around who we are and how we perceive ourselves, and how we perceive those around us. In truth, it doesn’t always connect us.
The promise of social media as a space for genuine encounter has faded into algorithms that reward performance, comparison, and the construction of a super-self — unreal and dangerous. This construct becomes an absolute individual truth, distorting our sense of self and reality. And that, without question, is a form of unhealthy isolation.
Neoliberal logic has grown more refined: it’s no longer enough to be self-sufficient — one must appear happy, productive, resilient, and above all, “current”. And being current means following trends shaped by interests often beyond our reach. Falling outside that polarity is now seen as weakness.
Speaking about connectivity, digital alienation, and the truths and falsehoods circulating online has, in my view, become commonplace. It’s a discourse repeated endlessly, where pointing fingers and declaring what is true or false has become routine — often hollow. To discuss it without depth is to circle a theme worn thin by overuse and lack of reflection.
Those who maintain a critical view of humanity and its needs must propose paths of intervention. How might we engage those around us in projects that truly reconnect us with our individual essence? Perhaps it lies in something simple — going to the gym, practising tai chi in the park, watching a film with friends. Small gestures that return us to the presence of others.
“Life is the art of encounter, although there is so much disencounter in life.”
— Vinicius de Moraes (1962)
This line feels more relevant than ever. In times of digital and emotional disconnection, it reminds us that encounter is not mere coincidence — it is something we must build, day by day.
Still, the superhuman remains: now with a LinkedIn profile, a smile on Instagram, influence on X (formerly Twitter), and goals neatly plotted in a planner. But inwardly, many remain orphaned from themselves, obscured by that haze which distances them from real bonds, genuine listening, and spaces where they might simply exist — without needing to prove anything.
The medicalisation of life has intensified — and now extends far beyond pharmaceuticals. The immediate search for relief from pain and existential emptiness has cast medication as a central figure: praised for its healing power, yet unable to fill every gap. Alongside it, other tools have emerged — especially digital ones — that promise closeness and connection. WhatsApp support groups, dating apps, social platforms, and remote work offer ways to stay in touch. Yet while useful, they do not dissolve the deeper distance: the one that separates us from ourselves.
The haze remains thick. And the tools that help us peer through it are still insufficient to restore the meaning lost in human relationships.
“If only / Every man could understand, oh mother, if only / That summer is the peak of spring…”
— Gilberto Gil (1979)
These verses evoke a delicate and powerful image: summer as the fullness of spring — not through force or conquest, but through continuity and essence. Spring, with its fragility and blossoming, marks the beginning — the simple gesture, the everyday affection, the birth of encounter. Summer, in turn, is the peak, the maturity, the warmth that exists only because something first bloomed.
In Gil’s metaphor, true power does not lie in the strength of the superman, but in the ability to recognise that glory resides in the human — and that human is represented by the woman, not as gender, but as a symbol of otherness, sensitivity, and presence that returns us to the world.
“Who knows / If the superman might restore our glory / Changing the course of history like a god / Because of the woman…”
— Gilberto Gil (1979)
Here, the woman is the turning point. She enables the shift in the course of history. Not through superhuman strength, but through affective presence, through listening, through the capacity to welcome and transform. It is the encounter with the other — with the feminine, the everyday, the simple — that saves us from the superman’s void.
The figure of the superman, who tries to solve everything alone, is dismantled. Salvation will not come from internalised superpower, but from reconnection with the human world around us. And that world is found in parks, cafés, embraces, conversations among friends — in gestures that require no validation.
Spring and summer are metaphors for the time of encounter. Spring is the beginning, the gesture. Summer is the permanence, the warmth. And it is in that cycle that life finds meaning.
Perhaps Superman will still come to save us — but not by teaching us to endure everything alone. Perhaps his strength lies in reminding us that the meaning of life is found in the human around us.
Meaning is born in encounter. In exchange. In shared vulnerability.
Now, more than ever, we must reclaim the value of human relationships as spaces of care and reconstruction. We must recognise that the real world is full of suffering — and that is not failure. Suffering is part of human nature. It is part of the human condition. And no one should have to face pain alone.
“Superman is a metaphor for what it means to be human.
He’s an alien trying to fit in, trying to do good, even when the world doesn’t understand his intentions.”
— Zack Snyder, director of Man of Steel (2013)
Snyder’s reading reinforces what we already know: Superman is a mirror of our contradictions. He is the myth of strength that conceals fragility. The symbol of salvation that, ultimately, only finds meaning when it becomes human.
Superman, after all, is just a myth.
And we, humans, continue searching for meaning — together.
Julio Bernabé 