The “Dark Matter” of Japan’s Fantasy-Industrial Complex
The secret to being loved by everybody: taking political stances discernible to nobody
When Prime Minister Fumio Kishida visited the United States earlier this month, it wasn’t quite the pop-cultural love-in that the late Shinzo Abe’s visit was in 2015. That was when President Obama declared America’s thanks for “manga and anime, and, of course, emojis” on the White House lawn. Even still, by all accounts, Kishida’s visit went swimmingly. It was a welcome respite, I’m sure, from his never-ending troubles at home, with the LDP wracked by a fundraising scandal that has knocked his public support to historic lows.
The meeting of the two nations did have its moments. Kishida cracked a Star Trek joke at a White House state dinner, perhaps inspired by the fact that NASA is including a Japanese astronaut on its next manned moon mission. (Japan’s landing of a lunar probe last January was a huge coup for its space program – this is another.) Then came a rousing speech to Congress. It opened with a reference to The Flintstones, which Kishida explained he saw as a grade schooler in New York, “though I never could figure out how to translate yabba dabba doo.” (It is, incidentally, exactly that in Japanese: ヤバ・ダバ・ドゥー.) He followed this with a declaration of Japan’s intention to ramp up military spending so as to stand “shoulder to shoulder” with America.
All of this was, of course, perfectly scripted and expected. For a moment let’s put aside the inevitable questions of whether this is good or bad, too soon or long overdue, and just assume that it happens: Japan becomes a more active and visible partner of the United States in geopolitical-military endeavors. That assumption raises an interesting question. What are the implications of such a shift for Japan over the long run, in terms of its image abroad?
If you’ve spent any time considering Japan as a cultural superpower you’re undoubtedly familiar with the concept of soft power. Joseph Nye, who coined the term, defined it as “getting others to want the same outcomes that you do,” through persuasion rather than force. I think of it as a gross national charisma.
Nye explained that nations accumulate soft power in various ways: through their political stances, their expressions of values, their cultural products. "Seduction is always more effective than coercion,” wrote Nye, “and many values like democracy, human rights, and individual opportunities are deeply seductive." Japan definitely benefits from its image as a free nation with strong traditional values. But I think you can argue that its “seduction” owes more to its cultural products – anime, manga, video games, films, novels – than to its political stances.
What are Japan’s political stances? The Japanese government undoubtedly has positions on a great many happenings in the world. And Japan is not a minor player in global politics – it is the third largest dispenser of foreign aid on the planet. Yet it is challenging to identify Japan’s official stand on many critical issues of the moment.
For instance, Kishida articulated his commitment to supporting Ukraine in its fight against Russian aggression. Absent from his address: any mention of Israel or Gaza. In fact, if you scan the papers, the most recent reports in the English press about Japan and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict date back to last year.
This is but one example, and it isn’t a bug – it’s a feature. There’s an old saying in Japanese: the clever hawk hides its talons. One of the secrets of Japan’s soft power is, paradoxically, its absence of a clear political policy on many issues. That negative space is the dark matter of its pop-cultural prowess.
Dark matter is a concept in astrophysics. It is “material that cannot be seen directly,” as a NASA website explains. By some calculations this intangible something, which the greatest minds in astronomy and physics struggle to define, makes up more than 80% of all matter in the cosmos. This invisible hand is what keeps galaxies from flying apart as they spin. Similarly, Japan’s ability to stay out of the headlines is what keeps its pop-cultural machine from flying apart as it spins.
Back in 1998, then-President Bill Clinton took a respite from his problems at home to pay a nine-day visit to China, but flew back home without bothering to visit Japan. The Japanese press dubbed this “Japan passing,” exemplifying just how far the nation had seemingly fallen after the burst of its economic bubble. Indeed, it was the view of many foreign observers that Japan was on the rocks as a force in global society.
But as we now know, while Japan’s economic and political influence waned, its pop-cultural credentials soared. This was due in part to the increasing quality of the anime, manga, and games that Japanese creators were pumping out. (For context, in 1998, Dragon Ball Z was in its second season on US cable, Tamagotchi was in full swing, and Pokemon Red and Blue had just dropped for the GameBoy.) These products sold on their merits, but also undoubtedly benefited from the fact Japan was no longer seen as the archrival-bordering-on-enemy it had been widely portrayed as just a few years before. Put another way, falling out of the headlines may have been a disaster for Japan as a maker of things, but perhaps the best thing that could have happened to it as a producer of content.
Japan’s reticence to take an official stand on divisive issues is the dark matter of its fantasy-industrial complex. It provides a blank slate upon which fans of different cultures and creeds can project their own values. Conversely, the bigger of a role Japan takes in the geopolitical issues of the day, the more it risks tarnishing its reputation as the world’s factory of dreams. Right now, there’s nothing to push back against, so its pop culture floats above the fray, an escape from all of the harsh realities of the world. To sully it with politics would defeat the entire purpose. And that, I suspect, is another reason why Kishida went with “yabba dabba doo” over “I choose you.”