Culture and Religion in Japan the Effect of Japanese Media on Aum Shinriky

Culture and Religion in Japan: The Effect of Japanese Media on Aum Shinrikyō A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for graduation with Honors in Religion. 2022 ____________________ ii Contents Acknowledgements ............................................................................................................iv Introduction..........................................................................................................................1 Chapter 1: Theoretical, Historical, and Cultural Contexts...................................................4 Section 1.1: A Background on Aum Shinrikyō................................................................7 Section 1.2: Historical Context of Anime and Manga....................................................11 Chapter 2: A Filmic Analysis of Spirituality in Akira.......................................................14 Section 2.1: Manipulation of Bodies..............................................................................17 Section 2.2: Enlightenment in Akira...............................................................................20 Chapter 3: Inspiration or Culture?.....................................................................................22 Conclusion.........................................................................................................................25 Bibliography.......................................................................................................................29 iii Acknowledgements iv Introduction On March 20th, 1995, the religious extremist group Aum Shinrikyō released poisonous gas in the Tokyo subway system, killing twelve and injuring thousands. This event spurred much scrutiny of the social, political, and cultural context that led to the attack. Aum, a religiously motivated terrorist organition, asks of its members a sort of asceticism and a return to traditional religious values. Aum was particularly critical of society and its ever-persisting drive for progress. They hoped to build an army of religious ascetics that rejected the emerging secular modernity that had begun to envelop Japan after World War II. Aum and its fanatic leader Asahara Shoko is one of many “new religions” that emerged in Japan in the mid to late 20th century (Metraux, 1142). Like Aum, these new religions preach a “reworking and revitalizing of traditional beliefs and practices for the purpose of ensuring their relevance to daily life at a time of unprecedented change in all spheres” (Metraux, 1141). The change that scholar Daniel A. Metraux notes here is reflected in the growing discomfort among Japanese individuals towards the “rat race” of this historical moment in Japan and the Western form of secularity beginning to be accepted in the nation (Metraux, 1148). Aum offered an escape from these discomforts and anxieties. Shoko also preached of imminent armageddon in the form of a third world war between “the West, led by the United States, and the ‘Buddhist world’ led by Asia. The combatants would use nuclear, chemical, and bacteriological weapons. Japan would be completely destroyed by American air attacks, but those who have achieved enlightenment through Aum would survive” (Metraux, 1152). Here we see a resurgence of World War II anxieties in reaction to a rapidly modernizing society. As technological advances persist and humans continue to flourish in this secular moment, Japan and its religious and artistic renderings of the world have become critical of a secular modernity. The apparent secularization of society has made the world reconsider religion itself. Scholars of religion often seek to understand the massive cultural shift that appears to have occurred in the general divergence from organized religion to a more abstract notion of spirituality. Of particular relevance to a discussion of Japanese religion is Charles Taylor’s work, A Secular Age. Taylor posits that the form of secularity that exists in modernity is one he deems a ‘middle ground.’ This middle ground that Taylor sees in the modern individual is characterized by the power that individuals have to choose the forms of belief that lead to their own personal fulfillment (Taylor, 6). Taylor goes on to question how humanity arrived at this form of ‘modern’ spirituality. The difference between two thousand years ago and today can be summed up by a discussion of space. A Durkheimian perspective regarding space as it relates to religion would lead to two conceptions of space: one “sacred” and one “profane” (Durkheim, 113). This polarity is confirmed through culture in a discursive process that Durkheim describes as “eminently social.” Because religions are “collective representations which express collective realities,” they are understood to be formed by social and cultural processes (Durkheim, 111). Thus, what is religious or spiritual to an individual is constantly in flux according to a variety of cultural grapplings and different historical contexts. Humans in “secular” society are given the opportunity to pick and choose the form of spirituality that best fits their own individual cultural and social grapplings with society. 2 While one can make a claim that values associated with religious ideologies are making a resurgence within artistic representations of critique, it is difficult to make the claim that this is a widely accepted fact among Japanese individuals. After all, Japan is considered a rather secular society, with only less than 30 percent of the population ascribing to a specific set of beliefs (Thomas, 9). Rather, “although Buddhism, Shinto, and Confucianism have informed Japanese conceptions of life and death, morality, and cosmology, these ideas are often described as ‘common sense’ (joshiki) or ‘Japaneseness’ rather than as anything explicitly religious (Thomas, 9). Here is where it is useful to consider Japanese religiosity with respect to Charles Taylor’s definition of secularity. This form of secularity presents spirituality as a choice, where people can pick forms of spirituality and ritual that provide their own individual fulfillment. To understand how spirituality provides a form of expression that engages in critique, cultural examples of such critique may be a helpful area to explore. Much information can be found in a genre of media that originated in Japan, anime. In the words of the famous Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki, “I do not believe in Shinto, but I do respect it, and I feel that the animism origin of Shinto is rooted deep within me” (Independent). This quote from Miyazaki hints at a rather direct reference to Taylor’s definition of modern secularity. Miyazaki and other anime artists pick and choose aspects of religion to inform their art. And, the vast history of Japanese religion has provided a unique vocabulary with which Japanese art engages. To explore anime and its value for critique, it is important to consider genre. Using anime as a generic label can be problematic. The word seems to merely mean 3 animation that originates in Japan. In fact, anime has a large variety of visual styles and narratives that fit themselves into many different generic categories. For example, we can call both The Grave of The Fireflies and Sailor Moon anime. But, Grave of The Fireflies is a dark and emotional historical fiction film that follows two young boys fighting for their lives in war-torn Japan, whereas Sailor Moon is an anime series about attractive crime fighting women wearing tennis skirts. There is a distinct generic disparity here which displays the qualms one might have placing all of anime into one generic category. Thus, this essay will focus more on more standard, conventional generic categorizations – particularly, science fiction. Scholar Christine Cornea’s definition of science fiction might be helpful in our understanding of genre in relation to anime. To Cornea, one can understand science fiction as a genre reliant on a notion she describes as “the fantastic.” The “fantastic” differs from “fantasy” in that it is an “essentially subversive” thing (Cornea, 4). That is, it regularly critiques reality through its manipulation of it. Scholar Wendy Doniger offers some insight into the intersectionality between religion and science fiction. In today’s secular age, we find mythology not in traditional myths of the past, but in the contemporary fantastical narratives of film and television. Doniger notes that this form of mythmaking does not accomplish the same “meaning making” as traditional mythologies (Doniger, 183). However, in secular modernity, one often does not look to traditional myth as informing modern culture. Thus, science fiction and its fantastical elements become areas of critical concern for the study of culture. Japanese Anime has produced scores of spiritually potent myths that are often inspired and informed by specific historical moments. This form of media acts as a myth itself. Therefore, one cannot discount this form of meaning-making and expression of culture. 4 This essay will explore the Japanese film directed by Katsuhiro Otomo, Akira, as an example of the way that this secular form of spirituality informs artistic expression and vice versa in a discursive process that, when brought together in analysis, will hopefully shed light on the cultural and social contexts that provided space for Aum to rise. Chapter 1: Theoretical, Historical, and Cultural Contexts Littered throughout this essay will be the words “religion,” “spirituality,” “secularity,” and “supernatural.” All of these words are indeed critical to an exploration of anime and Japanese society in the late-twentieth century. However, the nuances in these words’ definitions beg for a distinction before they are implemented here. Religion is a word that is often tied to a specific organized faith. For example, a Christian would ascribe themself to a specific centrality associated with the Christian faith. Spirituality, rather, is an abstract word that has a close relationship with the secular. As mentioned above, Taylor claims that, in this secular age spirituality and religiosity are seen as a choice. In the modern age, one often hears the phrase “spiritual but not religious” implemented when explaining oneself out of being associated with a specific organized faith. To scholar Nancy T. Terman, the reason behind this shift to the word “spiritual” originates from a general “dissatisfaction with organized religion” (Terman, 259). That being said, Terman argues that this divergence from organized religion does not mean that there is now an absence of spirituality in modernity. Rather, “some form of residual spirituality may still be present among those who freely choose not to affiliate” (Terman, 259). In this sense, the shift towards the word “spiritual” represents “declining religious institutions and rising religious individualism” (Terman, 259). The “supernatural” often 5 does not have an association with religion. While the supernatural represents a departure from known physical reality, religious concepts hold an association with “naturalness” due to “the sense that they are supported by ordinary cognitive processes and tendencies” (Lane, 345). Thus, there is a deep relationship between the supernatural and fiction. That being said, when the supernatural is supported by the subversive qualities of science fiction, a more tangible association with what Cornea describes as the “fantastic” arises. Therefore, though the supernatural may not have a direct association with spirituality or religiosity, the word can indeed be associated with myth-making and thus has the capacity to elicit real meaning to the viewer. Another word of note is “cosmos” or “cosmology.” This word is interesting as it has scientific connotations while also being used to explain different religions’ theoretical constructions of the universe. Essentially, cosmology in both of these fields seeks to answer the “Big Questions” of our reality; “where do we come from? How did all that we see come to be? Where is all this headed?” (Salimpour, 4). Therefore, both science and religion treat cosmology similarly – “different ways of knowing” (Salimpour, 2). In their definition of the intersection between religion and science in their cosmological renderings, scholars Seed Salimpour and Michael T. Fitzgerald problematize past uses of the word, “cosmos,” in both of these fields of thought. Intrinsic to a science or a particular religion’s exploration of reality beyond our own is the thought that this rendering is the uniquivable “Truth.” Thus, Salimpour and Fitzgerald explore different cosmological renderings through a “pragmatic perspective” (Salimpour, 6). That is, each individual cosmic rendering comes from its own cultural and social contexts that drive an 6 individual’s conceptualization of the universe. Thus, Salimpour and Fitzgerald posit that cosmological renderings of the universe and the meaning they provide to individuals is a part of an “‘enculturation’ process” (Salimpour, 6). This discursive approach to the cultural production of cosmology is helpful in relation to this thesis. The film Akira and Aum both create their own cosmological renderings that borrow from a variety of religious, social, and scientific perspectives. Thus, this essay will explore these renderings pragmatically, understanding the variety of contexts that derive meaning from the world beyond tangible reality. 1.1 Background of Aum Shinrikyō Interconnected with scholarly attention to Aum and other Japanese new religions is the proliferation of manga and anime in Japan in the mid to late twentieth century. To Jolyon Baraka Thomas, in his book Drawing on Tradition, manga and anime became “scapegoats” for causing religious fanaticism and causing members of new religions to be unable to “distinguish between fiction and reality” (Thomas, 2). I would agree with Thomas in that this is potentially a short-sighted opinion to support. Religious verbiage and symbolism has continuously been an inspiration for anime and manga and continues to be today (Thomas, 2). Even so, Thomas admits that it is hard to ignore the implications of the crossover between Aum and the religious symbolic references within Japanese media. Therefore, to better understand new religions in Japan and the motivations behind their membership, anime and manga should be an area of critical study. It might be short-sighted to blame manga and anime entirely for spreading religious fanaticism in Japan. This thesis seeks to explore how media and the congruent rise of Aum are rather a 7 product of Japan's own cultural grappling with the emergence of a secular globalized nation. Thus, the habit of anime and manga to include religious verbiage and symbolism that inform critique could be a fruitful area to study to better understand the spiritual disconnect between Japanese people and an emerging secular modernity. Aum’s own relationship with anime and manga is of critical concern. Anime and manga were an important component of mass media in Japan in the late twentieth century. And, Aum had often attempted to squeeze its way into mainstream media through a variety of avenues including anime and manga. However, their attempts were often met with defeat. These defeats “seem to have alienated Aum members further from Japanese society” (Gardner, 204). Aum responded to these defeats in a couple of different ways: they developed their own forms of media and deemed mass media to be “an instrument of mind control that was being manipulated by evil forces conspiring to control the world” (Gardner, 204). Their philosophical rendering of the world seems to also be influenced by anime and manga’s critical influence in society. Aum posits that reality consists of three realms: “the phenomenal, astral, and causal worlds” (Gardner, 207). The astral world is “a realm of data” and the causal world is “a realm of images” which informs the “phenomenal world,” the world where human beings reside (Gardner, 207). Aum would use these renderings of reality to critique anime and manga for exerting harmful forces upon the psyches of Japanese individuals. However, due to the very fact that Aum sought to produce its own manga and anime shows how the organization was indeed influenced by the great popularity of the mediums. And at the same time, the consequential criticism of Aum for having views so similar to the content shared through 8 anime and manga shows that there is a sort of connectivity between Aum and mass-media. One may look at Aum's conflicting relationship with manga and anime as hypocritical; should Aum truly be critical of Japanese media, why would they go out and make their own? However, behind Aum’s frequent critiques of anime and manga, is an awareness of the power that this media has in Japanese culture. Thus, their own media sought to take advantage of the three realms of reality and inspire individuals to join Aum. Interestingly, Aum’s own media did not look like conventional anime or manga. While the visual style and structure loosely follows conventional anime, the narrative is driven by apparent religious verbiage and symbolism that contrast with the opaque fantastical representation of spirituality known to other examples of anime and manga. An anime produced by Aum of note to this conversation is Chouetsu Sekai. This show was created and distributed by Aum’s own production company, “MAT.” This series is about Shoko himself, and the realization of his spiritual powers. The first episode of Chouetsu Sekai opens with an anime-style introduction that highlights the beliefs of Aum and their call for people to unlock “our ultimate spirit force… through enlightenment and achieving Nirvana” (Chouetsu Sekai, 0:01:05). When the introduction fades, the anime references Shoko himself, referring to him as “the most holy prophet” (Chouetsu Sekai, 0:02:12). In this episode, one sees the distinct form of religiosity of Aum influence the entire construction of the series. The show plays as a piece of propaganda that highlights the supposedly “real” spiritual power of Aum’s leader. This is a departure from conventional anime in that the anime viewer is generally aware of the fantastical nature 9 of the narrative. Rather, Aum seems to believe that their own media, which highlights the goals of the organization, is what the Japanese population should be watching as it will guide them to a sort of spiritual awakening. To Aum, this is the proper, desired use of the three realms of data; rather than creating “mindless” forms of entertainment, Aum sought to use media in a manner distinctly driven by its own religious ideologies. The film Akira (1987) made massive waves in Japan and abroad and was rather influential as a critique of society in twentieth century Japan. Akira also interestingly presented many intersections with Aum and its mission. The film depicts a Tokyo critical of its authoritarian regime and rampant commodification. The youth of the film are particularly important to the film; they rarely pay attention to what their teachers say and actively mock those in charge. Their mockery is justified due to the adults, who are either lost to the bureaucracy of Neo-Tokyo or are mad scientists and military fanatics finding new and twisted ways to keep the city’s people in line. The youth of the film also have an immense amount of free time; they joy-ride around Neo-Tokyo and wreak havoc on rival gangs and personal property. In their between-ness, these young adults are critical of the social construction of Neo-Tokyo. And, as they become wrapped up in the dark conspiracy within Neo-Tokyo’s vibrant cityscape, they become heroes, the last line of defense between total destruction and salvation. Interestingly, Aum also inspired this particular age group. Metraux notes that many of Aum’s members were recently graduated college students. They were well-educated, often well-financed, and primed for a life of success in a modernizing Japan (Metraux, 1148). However, this also made them particularly critical of Japanese society; the “meritocratic rat-race” of Tokyo prompted 10 this demographic to search for meaning in new spiritual renderings of reality (Metraux, 1148). Some found this meaning in membership with Aum. Aum presented a disengagement from this secular life, where one could shed one’s material possessions and become truly important in the fight for the spiritual awakening of Japan. Thus, through the intersectionality between the youth in Akira and the members of Aum, one sees how age influenced spiritual grapplings with the nature of society in late-twentieth century Japan. Akira also highlights a society that is entirely human. The vivid, hand-drawn frames are devoid of natural objects. Instead, the viewer sees a sprawling city filled with billboards that highlight sexual deviancy and useless trinkets for one’s capitalistic entertainment. Even the score is composed of entirely human sounds. A sort of tribal chant accompanies landscape shots of limitless cityscapes. In this city we see a literal depiction of a truly secular modernity, one that worships only the human intellect. A discussion between scholars Ludwig Feurbach and Charles Taylor could be helpful here. When viewers see Akira’s sprawling cityscapes, they see a humanity that is seemingly “flourishing,” where humanity has reached a peak in technological development. However, when one digs deeper into the underbelly of this image, they see corruption, revolution, and grotesque scientific experiments. This is seemingly a critique of the Judeo-Christian tendency to project one’s own nature upon a “supreme form of consciousness” (Feurbach, 2). This, in summation, is “human exceptionalism.” Within this depiction of human exceptionalism, one witnesses the assumption that “God wills human flourishing” through the worship of humanity’s own nature (Taylor, 17). The 11 domination of humanity in the world of Akira inflates the idea of human exceptionalism to a point that one can become acutely critical of it. The viewer is forced to question, is human progress really what we should be worshiping? It could be argued that Buddhism presents a different kind of flourishing: one that preaches a renunciation of objects that inspire desire. Akira depicts a world run rampant with desire, diverging from Japan’s relationship with Buddhism. It is also no coincidence that Aum was heavily influenced by Buddhism and the shedding of materiality. 1.2 Historical Context of Anime and Manga A repetitive trope in anime is the danger of progression beyond what is natural and the simultaneous exploitation of nature to exercise power over others. Much of this anxiety can be attributed to post-World War II Japan. Scholar Anne Sherif covers the influence that this period had on art in Japan. Sherif named her book after the name of this period in Japanese history, Japan’s Cold War. Through her argumentation, Sherif seeks to show how Japan’s culture “flourished intellectually, artistically, and morally during the first decades of the Cold War” (Sherif, 205). This came from a general recognition that art had a “vital role to play in building society” (Sherif, 205). Thus, out of the cultural and social grapplings in post-war Japan came “a wide range of cultural forms, artists, and activists,” who sought to forge “new domestic understandings of what democracy means” (Sherif, 205). Therefore, we can assume that the dropping of the atomic bombs and the implicit turn to art as a means of coping with the large societal questions that the event proposed had a lasting effect on artistic expression in Japan. It is out of this cultural context that anime as an art form was born. Therefore, it would be 12 unavoidable to consider anime as a part of this cultural grappling with a rapidly modernizing world. The political unrest within Japan in the 1960’s among young individuals likely also influenced Japanese media and laid down the foundation for Aum’s own qualms with Western secular society. The 1960’s for Japan “was a decade of intense struggle” (Myerson, 363). This decade was characterized by a 313 day mine strike, protests surrounding the US’s continuing involvement in the Japanese Government, and a 1968 student takeover of the University of Tokyo, claiming it as a “liberated zone” (Myerson, 363). However, this public outcry seemed to decline in the 1970’s as Japan became apparently “more conservative, more technologically developed, and more middle class” (Myerson, 364). Though public protest had indeed declined in this transition into the 1970’s, anxieties surrounding a modernizing Japan and the increase of Western influences in the country became expressed predominantly within art. Scholar Sasha Myerson makes the claim that the political unrest behind the “antiauthoritarian” protests of the 1960’s were rather expressed through the science fiction films of the 1980’s (Myerson, 363). Myerson contextualizes the persistence of Japanese political unrest as expressed in science fiction by referencing the images of “decay and waste” of the genre and how these images act as “catalysts for transformation and renewal” (Myerson, 384). In this transformation, the viewer is able to experience the dream of the 1960’s Japanese activist who hoped to create out of post-war Japan a sort of utopia: free from Western influence, resistant to capitalistic forces, and reliant on traditional spiritual values. 13 The emergence of nuclear warfare in Japan also spurred cultural grapplings within anime. The image of the catastrophic bomb and ensuing mushroom cloud became a repetitive trope. In Akira, this image is shown in the first few minutes of the film, providing context for a post-apocalyptic society rebuilding after catastrophe. The big reveal of the film is that the cause of this explosion was the result of scientific experiments that yielded a genetically mutated child of exceptional supernatural abilities, Akira. Further in the film, we see the Neo-Tokyo government attempting to recreate Akira’s power and control it. They use a new subject for this experiment, Tetsuo. At the end of the film, Tetsuo yields to the power of Akira and becomes absorbed into his amorphous mass. The viewer then sees an explosion on the same scale as that at the beginning of the film. Thus, we see a cyclicality and, therefore, inevitability to the events of Akira. No matter what the characters in the film do, this explosion will eventually destroy humanity. This is a very nihilistic approach to Japan in this historical moment. The repetitive apocalyptic image and its similarity to the image of the blast of an atomic bomb seems to touch upon the tramas woven into the Japanese collective consciousness. It should be noted that inherent in the apocalyptic event is the fact that Japan itself is culpable; the Japanese government creates Akira, and when Akira can not be controlled, they do it again. To Akira, the culmination of human development and progress can only result in destruction. Thus, we see how Akira is critical of the emerging global influence of Japan and its adherence to secular Western ideals. We also see a reflection of Japan’s relationship with spirituality as seen in Akira with respect to the emergence of new religions in Japan like Aum. In fact, since World 14 War II, Demetraux notes that the emergence of new religions is not merely limited to 1970’s Japan. But rather, this urge of organizing under the goal of revitalizing traditional beliefs in Japan is part of an “ongoing historical process” (Demetraux, 1141). Groups began to emerge in the 1950’s, again in the 1960’s, with particular attention paid to new religions emerging in the 1970’s and 80’s due to the violent actions associated with some of the organizations. Dematraux notes that these new religions are a reflection of Japan’s grappling with “unprecedented change in all spheres” (Demetraux, 1141). This change can be traced back to the tumultuous transition from a Japan that sought to become an imperialistic nation to a Japan where Western influences sought to impose a Western, secular society upon a rebuilding nation they themselves had broken. Thus, we can see how the historical context of post-war Japan has carried with it frequent grapplings with the notion of religion and spirituality. And, through art, we see these grapplings expressing themselves through religiously motivated symbolism and narrative inspiration. Chapter 2: A Filmic Analysis of Spirituality in Akira Shoko’s interest in science and its importance to the structure of Aum is of particular relevance to Akira’s narrative. Shoko is quoted stating “a religion that is not proven scientifically is fake” (Lifton). While much of Aum’s scientific research went into the development of weapons for the upcoming “Armageddon,” quite a lot of research went into the studying of brainwaves to document “the stages of spiritual attainment described by past Buddhist saints” (Lifton). Akira blends science and religion quite often. No character walks this line between the scientific and the supernatural as much as the 15 archetypal government head, aptly named “Colonel.” The Colonel hopes to harness the supernatural powers of the world through the manipulation of the human body. Yet, he is also wary of this power; he is aware of the past mishaps of his predecessors that created Akira. When discussing the potential power of the new subject, Tetsuo, the Colonel says to his head scientist “maybe we shouldn’t touch that power,” to which the scientist replies “the power of God?” (Otomo, 0:22:00). In this statement, Akira admits to the anxieties of a modernizing Japan; should science go beyond the limits of nature? Therefore, the film is acutely critical of the efforts of science to create supernatural power: beyond what is conventionally understood as “natural.” The line that the Colonel walks between using and creating supernatural power and being wary of it is dangerous, but also nonsensical. He himself, alone, approaches Tetsuo at his most powerful and most dangerous, under some desperate line of thinking that leads the Colonel to think he can stop the catastrophe from occurring. In this desperate act we see to what lengths humanity will go to control nature. In this nihilistic message, there is nothing that can be done by humanity, but rather this power should be left in the hands of the spiritually adept. The three mutant children in Akira therefore hold humanity’s path towards salvation. At the moment of disaster, the children merge with Akira and Tetsuo in an effort to save the protagonist, Kaneda. In the midst of this effort, Kaneda hears a strange line of dialogue from the children. It is cut off and incomplete, but they are clearly alluding to a cosmic power beyond that of Tetsuo and Akira. This power is intentionally abstract; it seems even the children are unaware of its true nature. This intentionality alludes to a power on a spiritual scale, one operating beyond our level of perception. The 16 children are able to lessen this force’s destruction and save both the Colonel and Kaneda from the blast. Despite the fact that their power is manufactured by human experimentation, it is clear that the mutant children have accessed some sort of supernatural power. To interpret that power as a detriment to Neo-Tokyo would be false. Though we are meant to assume that Akira is the source of all destruction, the three other children look upon him fondly, as a sort of brother. It also seems that the children are hoping Akira will be released, so that they can control and diffuse Tetsuo’s power. We see Akira’s blast successfully do this when Tetsuo peeks his mutated head into the blast. His form starts to return to normal before he becomes afraid and lurches himself away. It seems that the children agree that Akira’s power is necessary to cure Tetsuo from his dangerous relationship with the supernatural power he has been given. And, in the blast of Akira’s blinding explosion, the children, Akira, and Tetsuo, all seem to work together to prevent this power from decimating Neo-Tokyo. Thus, it is out of this supernatural power that the mistakes of humanity are purged from the world of Akira. This depiction of supernatural power in a cyberpunk science-fiction film is of critical importance to our discussion of the relationship between anime and the cultural context that gave birth to new religions like Aum. Myerson notes that Cyberpunk, in particular, was a subgenre of science fiction that was greatly influenced by a 1960’s political context. A critical component of the Cyberpunk film is the form of “dystopia” that is presented within it. Cyberpunk films are characterized by an abstraction from the natural world, the expansion of human influence and domination, authoritarian regimes, and capitalism run rampant. These factors also interestingly correspond with components 17 of neoliberalism arising in 1980’s Japan. Even so, this society is depicted as dystopian in the sense that the individuals residing in the cyberpunk world are frequently alienated and disenfranchised by corrupt politicians and violence. The subversive nature of the cyberpunk society is why Myerson deems this form of dystopia a “critical dystopia” (Myerson, 368). And, this critical dystopia drupts the “the logic of neoliberalism rather than ‘blasting through it’” (Myerson, 368). The aim of the cyberpunk film is to break through this dystopian rendering of society and transform it into a form of utopia. The notion of utopia is also of great importance to Japan’s discomfort with society in the late-twentieth century. Myerson notes that “there is an intimate connection between utopia and activism: the two exist in a mutual symbiosis – without action utopia is unthinkable, without the vision of a better world there would be no action” (Myerson, 368). The interesting component of Akira’s utopia is that an event akin to Armageddon gives rise to it. And, consequently, Armageddon is a critical component of Aum, whose members see it as a path towards salvation. That is not to say that Aum was directly inspired by Akira’s inclusion of symbols and thematics that allude to armageddom. Rather, both Aum and Akira hold within them the same historical and cultural contexts that shed light upon the generalized anxieties of Japanese society regarding war, Western influences, and secularity. 2.1 Manipulation of Bodies The concept of the physical body is an important theme in Akira. The series of scientific experiments that manipulate the mind and body to access supernatural powers also present some critical religious connotations. Important to the ideological 18 construction of Zen Buddhism in Japan is the unity of mind and body. The phrase “the mind and body are not two” (Shiki-shin Funi), alludes to the goal of the Japanese individual to realize the nonduality of the mind and body in this life to attain enlightenment (Pye, 251). Thus, “the individual, physical body is not something to be neglected or avoided, but rather is itself the very locus of existential meaning” (Pye, 260). Interestingly, to prevent Akira from accessing his destructive power, the Japanese government separates components of his body into various jars. This manipulation and weakening of the body successfully prevents Akira from continuing to exert his power. Only when these jars are shattered and Akira’s body is united with his consciousness, is Akira’s power realized again. In Akira’s bodily manipulation, the viewer sees a reference to Zen Buddhism’s perception of the body and the power it holds when united with the mind. It is important to note that this is yet another example of science being blended with religion to reference cultural anxieties surrounding war, secularity, and the commodification of society. Thus, we see how religious conceptions inform anime and the subversive nature of narrative making in Japan. The way Akira’s bodily manipulation exerts its critique is seeped in a rather direct metaphor. Akira is a bomb. Or, at least the power Akira accesses by connecting the powers of his mind and body results in something that directly resembles the image of the atomic bomb. Therein, this reference to enlightenment made by the film alludes to a warning. The process of creating Akira is shown at the end of the film. We see scores of scientists huddling around Akira, performing complex experiments on his body, and exiling him away from “normal” society. In this sense, he is produced by the secular, 19 science-crazed, militarized government. When he visits the bunker where Akira sits, disembodied, the Colonel says “look at what they abandoned in their panic. They were afraid! They forgot all shame and honor and cast off the civilization and science we had created, and shut the lid of the Pandora’s Box they themselves had opened” (Katsuhiro, 0:41:20). This reference to “Pandora’s Box” is telling of the ramifications of blending science and religion. In this Greek myth, Pandora’s curiosity gets the best of her and she opens a box she had been instructed by the gods to keep shut. Out of the box emerges all of humanity’s hardships in the form of a curse. The Colonel, who is also incidentally the caretaker of the mutant children and overseer of the creation of a new power in Tetsuo, judges Japan’s past government that hid away the supernatural power of Akira rather than learning how to harness it. In the Colonel’s futile, unwavering commitment to harnessing Akira’s power, we see a direct critique of the efforts of science and technology to progress humanity beyond what is seemingly natural. Also in this critique, we see a subversion of Aum’s own efforts to blend religion and science to best map out the human path towards enlightenment. In a further manipulation of the concept of the body, Akira’s treatment of Tetsuo’s body is of particular interest. In the final scenes of Akira, when Tetsuo begins to reach his peak power, he attempts to heal his arm by blending his own body mass with various metals to create a new arm. Out of this act, his body becomes out of control; it expands into a mass of nondescript body parts that attempt to engulf onlookers. Here, we see how Tetsuo’s internal conflict complicates his ability to control his body’s newfound powers. At the sight of his expanding grotesque body, he becomes enraged in a child-like frenzy, 20 begging onlookers for help. At one point, Tetsuo turns into something resembling a gigantic infant. He tells his friend Kaneda, whom he had only minutes before been fighting, “help me Kaneda, my body’s not doing what I tell it to” (Katsuhiro, 1:47:54). The supposed reason for Tetsuo’s inability to control his supernatural power is hinted at throughout the film. Tetsuo has constantly lived in the shadow of the film’s protagonist, Kaneda, and his feelings of inadequacy are palpable throughout the film. At the promise of power, Tetsuo is finally able to rise above Kaneda and the entire world that has constantly sidelined him and left him alienated from power. However, his infantile urge for power is overcome by the supernatural forces forced upon his body. Therefore, we can infer that this disconnect between mind and body accomplishes a narrative goal, one that warns against the misuse of items of power for individualistic gain. And, through this manipulation of the concepts of mind and body, we can see how Zen Buddhism informs the thematic tool of bodily manipulation in Akira. 2.2 Enlightenment in Akira Also important to our discussion of the Zen Buddhist conception of the body in reference to Akira is the concept of death. In his essay, “Practicing Dying: The Samurai-Zen Death Techniques of Suzuki Shōsan,” Winston L. King seeks to understand the significance of the Samurai Warrior-class’ conception of death and its interconnection with Zen Buddhist ideologies surrounding death and the afterlife. As mentioned above, the goal of the practicing Japanese Buddhist is to achieve enlightenment in this body. The reason King chooses Suzuki Shōsan, a 17th century samurai and Zen monk, for his scholarly work is because of his interesting relationship with and philosophy of death. 21 When discussing the “essence of Buddhism,” Suzuki tells a story of a teacher who posited that this essence is “you will die. You will die. Never forget the fact of dying” (King, 144). This interpretation of Buddhism is a seemingly nihilistic interpretation of the “impermanence of human life” inherent to the religion. However, Suzuki would disagree that this definition of Buddhism’s essence is nihilistic. Rather, he argues that one should “practice death” by “living intimately with the concept of death” (King, 144). This, markedly, is a concept most discussed in texts pertaining to the Samurai class of Japan. In an instructional “primer” for training a Samurai, Hagakure, the word “Bushido,” the way of the warrior, is said to mean “the determined will to die.” In Bushido, “honor comes first. Therefore, every morning and every evening, have the idea of death vividly impressed in your mind” (King, 144). And, in this preparation for death, one seeks to die in a way that impresses the most honor and sacrifice. We see this concept realized by the selfless acts of the children in Akira, who sacrifice their worldly bodies for the saving of those caught in the blast of Tetsuo’s meddling with cosmic power. Knowing they are not powerful enough to enter the blast and save Kaneda and Tetsuo, they attempt to do so anyway. They are then able to unite with Akira and Tetsuo and engage in battle with the nondescript cosmic force enveloping Neo-Tokyo. Herein one sees the difference between Tetsuo and the mutant children. Tetsuo is afraid to die, he panics at his body’s transformation and his imminent death. The children, however, go willingly into Akira’s blast to save Kaneda and the Colonel. It is out of this selflessness that they are able to quell Tetsuo’s power. Interestingly, we do not know where the mutated children go after the blast subsides. When Kaneda is asked 22 what happened to Tetsuo, he simply says “he left. so did those three kids. Akira too,” while looking at the sky (Katsuhiro, 1:59:20). When asked if Tetsuo is dead he says “I’m not sure, but he’s probably…”, only to be interrupted by a blinding ray of sunlight creeping through the clouds that used to blanket Neo-Tokyo’s skies (Katsuhiro, 1:59:42). While we cannot say with certainty that the mutant children reached some form of Nirvana, it is clearly implied by Kaneda’s soulful glances to the heavens and the heaven’s implied response to Tetsuo’s proposed death. Therefore, both out of the children’s sacrifice and Akira’s uniting of his body and mind, all involved in the conflict are able to reach a sort of spiritual realm. Thus, we see how Akira’s narrative continues to borrow from religious thought. The concept of Nirvana and enlightenment is also played with in the reality proposed after the climax of Akira. Out of this fight of cosmic proportions, a supposed new reality is emerging. The sun peeping through the sky is our hint of this change. One likely does not realize the cloudy reality that the viewer inhabits until this final point of the film. The sprawling cityscapes throughout Akira are devoid of sunlight or blue skies. In this hyper-industrialized world, nature is nowhere to be found. However, when the children finally rid themselves of their worldly ties and leave this known reality, the opportunity for a new start is seemingly implied. This is markedly exactly the transformation from critical dystopia to utopia described by Myerson. This ending is intentionally left open; there is no promise that history will not repeat itself and a new Neo-Tokyo will arise only to meddle with nature again. This open-ended conclusion is itself a critique of the cyclical nature of war and the urge of humanity to continue to 23 progress beyond what is natural. Akira seeks to provide the viewer with the tools to critique this historical narrative. By relying on myth and spirituality, Akira presents an interesting engagement of traditional ideologies to critique a secular modernity built upon human progress. And, through a cross-examination of the cultural context of Japan at the time of Akira’s release, one sees a similar critique ringing through Japan as citizens find discomfort in the rapidly modernizing global powerhouse that the nation is becoming. Chapter 3: Inspiration or Culture? To better understand the role of anime in informing Aum’s radical mission, one must also look into accounts that do indeed place blame upon mass-media for influencing the organization’s violence. A prominent sociologist in Japan, Shinji Miyadai is an example of an expression of such critique.1 He is also an important scholar to explore as he pinpoints Akira itself as “perfectly characterizing this… view of the postapocalyptic that was greatly influential for some Aum members” (Gardner, 214). In his essay, “Transformation of Semantics in the History of Japanese Subcultures Since 1992,” Miyadai argues that the actions of Aum are reflective of a subculture in Japan that “used fiction for the homeostasis of the self.” He refers to the members of this subculture as “otaku,” aptly meaning a young individual with an obsession for computers and popular culture resulting in a dissociation from normal social functions (Miyadai, 235). The resulting alienation from society that these individuals experience only furthers their 1 While this essay holds the opinion that Japanese scholars in the years following Aum’s Tokyo subway attack described a link between anime and Aum’s ideology, it mentions only the works of Miyadai. Other examples of works that do describe a link between Aum and the influence of anime on youth can be found in these works: Ichikawa, Shin’ichi. 1995. “Seigi no kamen o tsuketa wakamonotachi,” Asahi shimbun, July 19… Inoue, Nobutaka. 1995. “Manga ya anime ga eiky o ÷ o ataete ita.” AERA , May 25, 33… and Otsuka, Eiji. 1995. “Warera no jidai no Oumu Shinriky o.” Shokun (May): 48– 57. 24 abstraction from reality. Some, even “yearned for Armageddon” and would turn to organizations that would provide them both social connection and a common dissociation from reality (Miyadai, 235). Miyadai admits that Armageddon is a critical component of this dissociation. The concept of Armageddon provided young people with a sort of escape from “the ‘gravity of society’” and the “uniformity” of “the adult world” (Miyadai, 245). Miyadai is somewhat understanding of the Japanese individuals’ turn to fiction as an escape from a daunting reality. However, he is also critical of anime and manga as catalysts for this process. As a reader of this essay, one should also be wary of Miyadai’s analysis. For, one must also consider the producers of anime and manga as components of a wider cultural grappling with secularity in Japanese society. The consequential abstraction from reality posed by viewers of anime and manga is a common concern for scholars who criticize Aum’s connection to the medium. In his essay, “Aum Shinrikyō and a Panic About Manga and Anime,” Richard A. Gardner describes this criticism as surrounding the term “virtual reality: ‘in other words, there is the danger of misapprehending something as being the real thing even though it is not the real thing” (Gardner, 206). Gardner posits that the claim that Aum members were unable to distinguish reality from fiction reflects a larger concern within Japanese society. In the late twentieth century, there arose a “burgeoning interest of youth in computer games and their possible link with the rising incidence of youth violence” (Gardner, 210). The term “virtual reality” became a common denominator for expressing this anxiety (Gardner, 206). And, consequently, the term became widely used in reference to Aum’s terrorist attack. Thus, anxieties surrounding the influence of mass-media upon religious violence 25 became intrinsically linked with anxieties surrounding rapid technological advancements in the mediated world that would potentially disrupt one’s conception of reality. This conversation has also been occurring globally; much criticism has been associated with the improvement of technologies surrounding media that has provided the ability for individuals to create realistic renderings of reality.2 Therefore, one could argue that the immediate turn to technology and virtual reality as scapegoats for inciting Aum’s terror is rather reflective of a discomfort with a modernizing world in general. Perhaps, one could connect Aum’s own anxieties surrounding Japanese society and Akira’s similar reflections of discomfort with a secular modernity with the subsequent blame placed on technology and mass-media for giving rise to violent organizations like Aum. Intrinsic to the Japanese citizen is the fact that they are a consumer. In this sense, the citizen is both informed and informs culture and thus reflects a wider social and political context. Toby Miller’s book Cultural Citizenship provides some helpful insight into this process. Miller attributes quite a bit of power to the consumer. Miller posits that media acts as “a site of creation, reflection, policy, and action, which binds the everyday to spectacle, the private to the public” (Miller, 12). And, central to this cultural literacy is the relationship between the citizen and the consumer. The citizen is seen as the “national” subject while the consumer is the “rational” subject. And, therefore, politics are “rendered artificial and consumption natural, a means of legitimizing social arrangements” (Miller, 30). Thus, media consumption acts as a site for contextualizing 2 This essay glosses over the global conversation surrounding the effect of certain forms of media on cognitive development. For more information regarding this topic, the reader may reference this book: Anderson et. al. Violent Video Game Effects on Children and Adolescents : Theory, Research, and Public Policy. Oxford University Press, 2007. 26 social and cultural contexts. More importantly, the consumer has a real tangible power to Miller. For example, as Myerson argues, the Japanese cyberpunk film acts as a continuation of a decade of protest in reaction to a cultural discomfort with a modernizing and globalizing Japan. This is a rather fitting example of the influence of consumer interests and the understanding of social-political contexts that these influences may provide insight into. Therefore, by looking into Akira and the agents that consume the film, this essay may uncover a larger socio-political context: one critical of a modernizing Japan that is leaving behind traditional values. Conclusion Now that a relationship between culture and the emergence of new religions in Japan has been established, a discussion of whether there is a causal relationship between cultural and societal critique in anime and Aum’s mission becomes possible. In this line of argumentation, one must consider the agency of Otomo and the other productive forces in Akira. Did Akira intend to inspire groups like Aum in their quest for a revival of traditional values and the destruction of secular modernity? Should art like Akira, when making large critical claims regarding Japanese society, be considered catalysts for anti-government dialogue? In his essay, “Encoding and Decoding in the Television Discourse,” Stuart Hall lays out an argument that explores the question of agency and the role of the audience in informing television production. What Hall describes as “encoding” is the productive forces that produce meaning in their media, while “decoding” is the process by which the audience analyzes and finds their own meaning (Hall, 258). Hall establishes that this is a discursive process, with the audience member’s 27 ability to decode filmic messages also informing the producers’ desire to encode further messages. Thus, “the audience is both the source and receiver of the television message” (Hall, 259). Therefore, one can assume that media is both the product and producer of cultural meaning. One cannot think of the two as separate entities entirely. We can therefore problematize the claim that Akira was the instigator of religious violence in Japan. Miller’s empowering of the consumer as agents in the relationship between culture, society, and politics does complicate this argumentation. Miller claims that “production and consumption must be understood as equal parts of an enterprise – the enterprise of social justice” (Miller, 8). When Aum members released sarin gas in the Tokyo subway system, they did not do so for terror alone; they believed in a form of justice that necessitated radical action. And, as part of the demographic of consumers and critics of anime and manga, they are potentially the exact agents of change that Miller alludes to in his argumentation. So, even though Aum and Akira may have arisen from the same cultural context, filmic engagement in a topic that is associated with violence may still be problematic. This essay would argue that this is not the case. There seems to be little agency in Akira’s conception. The role of Japanese science fiction in depicting a spiritual crisis in Japan is a widely explored area; Akira is merely one voice of many. Therefore, Akira is a product of a consumer base that finds discomfort in Japanese society in the late twentieth century, the members of Aum being a minority of this demographic. This, in itself, is not a negative thought; there are plenty of examples of media that claim a rejection of conventional politics and social relations. Rather, it is the 28 consumer’s own power to interpret and react to the mediated world that exercises change. It is agents like Aum that turn to violence as a reaction to given socio-political contexts rather than the makers of Akira specifically informing said violence. This discursive approach to the production of media expresses the importance of sociality in the production of culture. Interestingly, the same can be said regarding religion. Emile Durkheim has expressed much scholarly attention to the idea that religion is a “social thing” (Durkheim, 142). To Durkheim, expressions of religion “are the expression of collective realities” (Durkheim, 111). The cultural practices of individuals are thus “rites” that create and maintain religious ideologies (Durkheim, 111). One might think of Japanese media similarly. Just as spiritual frames of mind are formed socially, as are the narratives of Japanese media. Durkheim’s approach to the study of religion differs from some of the scholars referenced here in that he does not necessarily use a discursive approach to the interaction between religion and culture. Rather, he pays much attention to the word “expression”; rather than arguing that religion and culture interact to create collective realities, Durkheim argues that religion is “an expression of society” (Durkheim 135). This sheds some light upon the disconnect between religious frames of mind and the emerging Western form of secular government rising in Japan. Should religion be an expression of culture and society, then this disconnect would supposedly become apparent in religious representations in both art and society. Therefore, it could be argued that both Akira’s repeated references to religion and the concurrent emergence of new religions such as Aum are expressions of Japanese society in the mid to late twentieth century; rebuilding after World-War II, forced into Western forms of 29 government, and skyrocketed into neoliberal capitalism, Japanese society turned to religious expressions of the disconnect felt between citizens and the nation that was emerging in the twentieth century. Though there is a lack of a proven causal relationship between Akira’s encoded messaging and Aum’s violent response to Japanese society, there is indeed a relationship between art, culture, and audience reception. Hall establishes that “production and reception of the television message are not, therefore, identical, but they are related” due to the “skewed and structured ‘feed-backs’ from cultural discourse that decodes media” (Hall, 259). This explains how media and scholarly attention has explored the agency of Akira in potentially inciting violence in the Japanese community. This response in itself is an example of the audience’s ability to decode and create meaning from media similar to how we engage in linguistic exchange. Such is why Hall compares this discursive process to “language” (Hall, 257). It is true that what one says in conversation demonstrates some amount of agency and therefore responsibility, but it is also the responder's own retort that contains a level of agency; it is in conversation that one finds meaning. Therefore, we can conclude that media, like language, is a product of culture. All sides of a conversation rely on the cultural and social conventions of the historical moment. Art is a critical component of how one interprets this cultural moment. As established above, there is indeed a culture in Japan of discomfort with a modernizing secular Japan. 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