In 2007, while I was publishing Lebrecord.com, an online magazine for the arts in Lebanon, I put out a call for drawings for a Lebanese comic superhero. In an attempt to sidestep the obvious cliché—a male figure with a cedar emblem—I designed the character myself for the advertisement and named the superhero “Arz.” Looking back at this initiative, it was both a creative challenge and a cultural exploration. The idea of a Lebanese superhero seemed almost paradoxical at the time—how does one represent heroism in a country so fractured by its history, yet so deeply proud of its identity? I wanted to avoid the typical tropes: the male savior figure, the nationalist cedar symbol plastered on his chest, and the narrative of brute strength triumphing over adversity. Instead, I sought to create something more nuanced—something that would resonate with the complexities of Lebanon and its people. “Arz” was not just a superhero; it was a conceptual question mark, a response to the absence of shared cultural myths in contemporary Lebanon, and a platform for reimagining what a local hero could embody. It was also a way to spark dialogue, to invite artists and thinkers to imagine a figure who could stand as a mirror to our aspirations and struggles, not just as a symbol of power, but as an agent of resilience, creativity, and hope.
(The call eventually triggered Joumana Medlej to create her own comic series, “Malaak: Angel of Peace.” Her response introduced a female hero, drawing on Lebanese history while maintaining the red and white colors of the Lebanese flag.)7
