I'm having incoherent thoughts about clone danny again from the clone/clone^2 au (when am I not?) but more specifically I'm thinking about his reaction to finding out he's a clone. The standalone clone au digs into that a little more than clone^2, which is more focused on Danny and Damian's relationship. But neither (so far) really get into Danny's issues about finding out he's a clone after 15 years of thinking he wasn't.
Because he resents his parents for not telling him for so long. He resents the way he found out; through a trivial school project rather than a sit-down talk. He resents the fact that, apparently, they had meant to tell him sooner. But forgot. He resents the fact that they never told him because finding out feels like something was stolen from him when it had the chance to not be.
Danny Fenton, just fifteen, cloned not even half a year ago, knows what that personal violation of autonomy feels like. He knows what it's like to be cloned and while he loves Ellie, he does, she's his sister, and in this au his twin. But he is still left with that feeling of unsafety after realizing he'd been cloned. Being cloned is violating. The onset realization that it's so easy to get DNA without the other party noticing, and that what was stopping someone from trying to clone him again?
Followed only after with the rest of the inexplainable mix of feelings of being cloned, the rest of that inner conflict and panic that's an ugly mocktail of emotions that range from horror to fear. Trying to imagine what it's like to be cloned from the cloned party, and I imagine that it leaves you with the feeling of needing to crawl out of your own skin with discomfort.
And then he gets put on the other side of it. Danny Fenton, only fifteen, was cloned not even half a year ago, finding out he is a clone. And reactions, I imagine, can vary from person to person. But to him, it feels like something got stolen from him, like someone took a hole puncher and stuck it right into his chest and stole a chunk of himself from him.
It changes nothing about him and yet it changes everything. It's a betrayal on it's own to just find out he was a clone and they didn't tell him for fifteen years -- it shouldn't mean anything, because he's still Danny, and yet it means everything. It's him, it's him, it's about him. It's his personhood. It's about the fact that a load-bearing rock in his identity just crumbled beneath his feet and now there's a rockslide.
Because then he finds out that they used the wrong DNA. Its like pouring salt in an open wound. He's not even related to his parents or his sister, when for years he thought he was. It's the fact that pieces of his identity that he's been so secure in for so long just got ripped away from him in an instant. Then they tell him -- only through his own horrified prompting -- that the person whose DNA they used -- Bruce Wayne -- didn't even know he existed. That they accidentally used the wrong DNA, then didn't tell the person whose DNA they used.
The betrayal of being lied to for years turns really quickly into horror at his own existence. Something very similar to the horror he felt at being cloned and the skin-crawling discomfort that made him feel like his own skin wasn't really his. And then its not. It's actually not. Nothing but his own name feels like it belongs to him anymore -- not his hair, not his eyes, not his heart or his lungs, nothing feels like his anymore and he didn't know what that felt like until it was gone.
It's a question of Nature Vs. Nurture -- where does the line of "nature" begin and where does the line of "nurture" end? What of him is actually his? What of him is Bruce Wayne's? It's not logical, it's not supposed to be. It's a load-bearing wall on the house of his identity being destroyed and now everything else is caving down in on him. What belongs to Danny, what belongs to Bruce Wayne?
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Want to get your thoughts on something you've touched on in a couple places. A pretty popular idea in the fandom is that one of the (in-universe) reasons airbenders have gone so hard into the peace-and-love monk thing is a self-awareness that, if they didn't, there's not a whole lot anybody could realistically do about it.
Like, Southern Air Temple pretty strongly implies that Gyatso solo'd a room full of comet-roided firebenders. It killed him but he did it, and while he is a master Airbender, we're not given any real indication that he is uniquely so, right?
I have many thoughts on this! Sorry in advance for the long post! And sorry if this goes a bit off topic!
Short answer: I don't agree.
Long answer:
We've seen that nations' cultures tend to reflect their native bending styles. Or vice versa. It's probably a chicken and egg scenario. The Fire Nation chose to spread (like wildfire) and is full of hot headed, impetuous roid-rage sufferers who can't see or plan for the long term. Fire itself easily becomes ungovernable and is at best muzzled/leashed, always waiting for the next chance to bubble over in unplanned / unpredictable / generally unhelpful directions (Hi Zhao!). So an element shapes a culture shapes and element until you've got a positive feedback loop (or in the case of the Northern Water Tribe, a negative feedback ourobouros due to outside pressure). Importantly, neither culture nor element develops in isolation; I think they develop simultaneously.
The Earth Kingdom is probably the most rigid and unchanging, even when it would benefit them to change/innovate. We see rigidity and humourlessness in response to change or the unexpected (see Toph's parents) and we see an inability to let go of a bad idea, or mitigate the consequences / think on the go when things that were clearly bad ideas go bad in ways anyone with a non-earthbender brain can see coming a mile off (think The Avatar State episode). Earth digs in when it should retreat, stands solid when it should duck and weave. It is grounded to the point of stupidity (unless you're Toph or Bumi, although even Toph seems to be unbending so far). It's linear to the point of being unable to deviate from that line.
This is me guessing, but I figure since fire and water are opposites, air must be the opposite of earth, right? So while we'll never see airbending culture in a non-shrunk-down-to-one-person form, we can look at earthbending culture for its dark reflection. Well, probably not dark, but you get what I'm saying. They'll be opposites in world view. We can extrapolate.
So if earth is grounded, humourless, aggressively traditional, linear, then air must be constantly fluctuating, unchained, lighthearted, bonkers-all-over-the-place. The heaviness of earth would dictate that problems should be faced by digging in and facing them head on until the problem blinks first. The lightness of air would dictate that problems should be faced the opposite way: blinking first i.e. removing yourself from the problem entirely. The linearity of earth dictates that fights are solved by fighting - you punch me, I punch you. The non-linearity of air would seek to recontextualise a problem until it's no longer a problem because we all forgot what we were fighting about in the first place, i.e. throwing pies at it or busting out the marble trick. The heaviness of earth would cause excessive earthly attachment; the lightness of air would cause excessive detachment from worldly concerns.
To start violence is to make a statement that you wish to be involved. It's rooting yourself to a particular dispute, choosing a hill to die on. It stems from attachment. This is earthbendery behaviour (and Zuko-y, but let's not go there). To never start violence is to never invest, never dig in your feet and make a stand. To be detached. (I'm oversimplifying here.) It's clear from in-show examples that Aang's pacifism is of the "ladies don't start fights but they can finish them" variety; he's got no problem with self-defence (caveat: we have no idea how typical an air nomad Aang was). But he never attacks first that I can think of.
Violence is a very direct tool. If someone starts a fight with you, and you decide to continue it, you're choosing the most obvious action. Since when is airbending direct or obvious?
All this to say, I think that pacifism, peace and love, monkiness, etc., was more likely a natural and inevitable outgrowth of air nomad culture, caused by constant culture / element interaction, rather than a conscious choice.
So I think airbenders "have gone so hard into the peace-and-love monk thing" because the nature of their element creates a culture that discourages the traits required for effective offensive violence, and the inherent detachment and ever-changing nature of air naturally encouraged spiritual (i.e. monkly) pursuits rather than earthly ones, like whatever the conflict of the week is. I don't think self-awareness of the dangers of their element factors into it. Not to take away from Gyatso's accomplishment, but I think air is nowhere near the most dangerous element. From what I've seen so far that would be Fire or Earth, though I'd give the edge to Fire because they self-generate, and also because they've spent a largely successful century dominating the other elements. Waterbenders and earthbenders can be neutralised by taking away their element; airbenders - due to the very nature of their element - probably can't get past that initial avoid and evade instinct to become legitimate offensive threats.
As for Gyatso, I think he's an outlier. We know little about him so far, but we do know that: a) Aang says he's the best airbender (in I think the Southern Air Temple?); b) he's good enough that he was granted a statue while he was still living, learning, improving; and c) he's good enough that the monkly council (of which he is part) granted him the honour/responsibility of being the quasi-dad of the Avatar. These things tell me that Gyatso was the Spiders Georg of the Airbenders. I suspect Bumi is the same for the Earthbenders, and at least as far as the philosophy of bending is concerned, Iroh may be so for Firebenders. Even the example of Gyatso nuking the comet-enhanced firebenders is a case of defensive action in ultra extraordinary circumstances: he was staring into the teeth of a genocide while mourning the disappearance of his quasi-son and the likely loss of the world's only hope / chance at stopping the war. That's how far you have to push an airbender before they'll take a life. Unless the Avatar world pre-war is a lot more godawful than Aang has implied, airbenders probably wouldn't have been taking lives frequently enough for them to get to the point where they would have to start questioning whether they should consider pacifism.
I think what this fandom idea ultimately is, is a desire for the hidden badass trope. Everyone loves it when the most peaceful character in the story is revealed to secretly be a Rambo-level fighting badass, right? Who didn't love it when kindly grandpa Roku manifested in his temple and unleashed a volcano? But I think this trope fundamentally takes something away from the appreciation of Airbending, Air Nomad culture, and the concept of Pacifism as a whole. This is just my interpretation, but applying the "secretly the deadliest all along!" trope to airbenders undermines their commitment to pacifism and makes it performative rather than earnest. It's a cop out; an acknowledgement that violence actually is the answer, and even those head-in-the-clouds monks know to use it when the chips are down. This show goes out of its way to show that non-combatants have value and a place in this world that's worth fighting for, that fighting goes way too far pretty frequently, that non-violent solutions are valid, even preferable. It would kind of undermine that message if all of the elements were easily weaponisable.
Something I've loved so far about Avatar is the show's earnestness. There have been no Marvel-style fakeout bathos plots. I feel making airbending secretly the deadliest element or similar would be exactly that sort of thing. Can't my pacifists be peaceful not because they're secretly untouchable badasses who carry the biggest stick, whom the rest of the world leaves alone out of fear, who are not a threat only because they have chosen not to be, but because that's just who they are?
On the other hand: Aang's been a one-man-army plenty of times. We've seen that; that's undeniable. So air is stupidly powerful as an element. No denying that. Gyatso did murder a bunch of people trying to kill him, so air can be deadly. But I don't think your typical airbender could be deadly. If you gave a can of airbending to a firebender, an earthbender, or even a particularly provoked waterbender, I don't doubt that they could kill people with it. But the culture that the element generated - rather than a conscious choice by that culture's participants - prevents them from taking the direct, violent, solution. And I think that culture developed in tandem with airbending, so there could not have been a time when airbenders were deadly as a rule. Air shaped airbenders as much as airbenders shaped air, and it shaped them into non-violent people.
There's a lot of power in the idea of consciously choosing, and sticking to, something that is perhaps not in line with your natural abilities. Styling airbenders as deadly-but-choosing-peace is a great way to explore themes of agency, identity, strength of character, morals, maturity, etc. But, to me, there's also a lot of power in the idea that some people just can't - not won't, but CAN'T - fight their way out of things, and this doesn't make it any less wrong to genocide the crap out of them.
If the fandom wants to headcanon airbenders as secret badasses who consciously choose nonviolence, I say a) go ahead! there's more than enough evidence to support that conclusion; b) I respectfully disagree; and c) is Iroh not enough?
tl;dr in my opinion, air's pacifism was a natural outgrowth of, and restriction imposed by, the element rather than a conscious choice; airbending can be deadly but airbenders aren't; Gyatso is not representative; 'speak softly and carry a big stick' is all well and good as a philosophy, but those who speak softly and don't have a stick are of value too.
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