Superman - The Immigrant Story
Everyone knows Superman has a secret identity, but here is the one nobody talks about: Superman is Jewish. In 1938, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster - two Jewish kids from Cleveland whose families fled Eastern Europe - created Superman.
The timing matters. Depression-era America. News from Europe getting darker. And suddenly a character appears who is not just strong, but stubbornly decent.
Superman’s origin is the giveaway. It is not a neat “chosen one” story. It is closer to Moses. A child sent away from a dying homeland in a vessel. A last desperate act by parents who know what is coming. He grows up in a new place, safe, loved, and slightly out of place.
Clark Kent isn’t Superman hiding among humans. Clark Kent is a Jewish kid passing for white. Nervous, intellectual. Thick glasses. Bumbling. That is Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster: two kids who got picked on and dreamed of being strong. Change your name. Change your clothes. No one suspects what you really are.
Superman’s Kryptonian name pulls people into an argument. Kal-El. “El” is a real Hebrew word meaning God, found in many Hebrew names. The “Kal” part is where the internet gets overconfident. Some people insist it means “swift” or even “voice” in Hebrew. But in Hebrew, “kal” (קל) commonly means “light” (not heavy) or “easy”. So I treat the Hebrew-ness as a strong echo, not a courtroom translation.
For Superman, Krypton does not stay in the past. He keeps it. Not as a flag, but as a bruise. The Fortress of Solitude is basically a private museum of a lost world. He studies it, preserves it, mourns it. That is the immigrant story in one sentence: you cannot go back, but you also cannot let go.
The Nazis noticed, too. Their reaction to Superman was not casual irritation, it was ideological hostility. The character was created by two Jewish artists, and the Nazis knew exactly what they were looking at.
After a 1940 comic strip showed Superman ending the war by arresting Hitler, things escalated fast. In February 1940, Look magazine published a two-page feature by Siegel and Shuster. In it, Superman smashes Germany’s Westwall, flies to Berchtesgaden, grabs a protesting Hitler by the collar, scoops up Joseph Stalin from Moscow, and delivers both “power-mad scoundrels” to the League of Nations in Geneva to stand trial for “unprovoked aggression against defenseless countries.”
The Nazi response was swift and vicious. On April 25, 1940, Das Schwarze Korps, the official newspaper of the SS, published a full-page tirade titled “Jerry Siegel greift ein!” (“Jerry Siegel Intervenes!”). The author repeatedly targeted Siegel’s Jewish heritage, calling him “intellectually and physically circumcised” and an “inventive Israelite.” They even turned his name into a slur, calling him “Jerry Siegellack” (sealing wax), implying his work was a stinking mess that should be ignored.
So yes, it is funny in a bitter way: the most “American” superhero became so successfully American that many people forgot he was an immigrant story. The Man of Steel was forged in the shtetl.
And yet, here we are again.
Antisemitism is no longer something you have to hunt for in dusty newspapers. It is back in daylight. On campuses. In city streets. On social feeds. In the language people pretend is “just criticism.” The old tropes never died. They just changed fonts.
The immigrant story that Superman carried into the 20th century has become part of our 21st-century reality for too many Jewish families: looking over their shoulders, explaining their identity, pushing back against lies and hatred.
What does Superman mean now, when Jews are threatened not just in far-off lands but in broad daylight on social feeds and city streets?
Superman was invented in 1938 because two Jewish kids understood something before the world did: that Jews could not count on being protected when things turned ugly. So they imagined a man who would not wait for permission to stop annihilation.
Today, that fantasy is no longer imaginary.
There is no cape. No perfect morality. No clean victories.
Just young men and women doing something their grandparents were never allowed to do.
The Israeli Defense Forces exist for the same reason Superman was invented:
because Jews learned the hard way what happens when no one else comes.
Superman was the dream of “never again.”
The IDF is what “never again” looks like when you mean it.
So when Superman appears on a stamp today, he is no longer just a nostalgic immigrant story.
He is a reminder of the moment Jews stopped waiting to be rescued and started taking responsibility for their own existence.
FAQ
Is Kal-El “voice of God” in Hebrew?
“El” is a genuine Hebrew element meaning God, but “kal” is commonly “light” (not heavy) or “easy” in Hebrew.
So it is better to treat the name as a strong echo, not a literal translation.
Why mention antisemitism today in a story about a superhero?
Because Superman was created at a moment when Jews were watching the world darken, and the themes still resonate when hatred returns in public.
Why end with the IDF?
Because the essay’s point is the movement from fantasy to responsibility: a 1938 dream of protection and a modern reality of defense.
