UlasanAnime.com – This article delves into the controversy surrounding Mimei Sakamoto’s remarks, initially intended to be about memetics but shifted due to the timeliness of the Sakamoto issue. The author apologizes for the change in topic but deems the Sakamoto controversy more pressing, especially as it might lose its heat by the end of the week. The author also mentions a related but different rant that was prepared, acknowledging the expressive nature of the accompanying image and asking for forgiveness for the blog’s “funky” style.
The original news article can be found at the provided Mainichi Daily link. The author expresses a desire to elaborate on the points already discussed by others, noting that Sakamoto’s stance isn’t entirely novel. A personal reflection is shared about the Asian parental emphasis on seriousness versus escapism, though the author admits this approach didn’t necessarily benefit them personally.
The controversy itself is deemed worthy of discussion, with the author referencing a perspective that a healthy dose of “trolling” can effectively bring issues to the forefront. This situation is framed as an example of that dynamic. Even before analyzing Sakamoto’s rant, or as another source describes it, “Waiwai’s slanted sensational journalism,” the author believes the mere existence of differing opinions on the matter validates the societal value of sensationalist reporting, or “yellow journalism.”
The author’s interpretation is that Japanese society is undergoing a transformation. Since the 1980s, successive waves of young people have found ways to express their individuality. Sakamoto’s critique, in this context, is not solely directed at “otaku” as individuals but rather at the “otaku movement,” and more specifically, the “Japanese otaku movement.” The author feels that much of the criticism found in English-language discussions often overlooks these two crucial points.
A personal confession is made regarding a lack of firsthand familiarity with Japanese “otaku.” However, the author does know one personally. While this individual’s English proficiency is limited, they communicate regularly online. This acquaintance is described as not being a hikikomori and not exhibiting the severe otaku issues often depicted on television or in exaggerated media portrayals, such as those involving hug pillows. Instead, this individual is seen as representative due to their attitude and media consumption habits: being self-interested, prioritizing society, and exhibiting a distinctively pedophilic tendency.
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The author elaborates that self-interest is a common human trait, with exceptions being just that. In the context of Japanese otaku, this self-interest translates to a preference for media they enjoy and an aversion to people or behaviors they dislike, as exemplified in “Genshiken.” They are often described as edgily passive-aggressive, a trait sometimes associated with stereotypical Japanese behavior. Empathy, when present, tends to operate on a social level, adhering to norms, and is frequently employed in a self-serving manner.
Similar to many Japanese individuals, otaku value their social identity. The author draws a parallel to “kogals” who embrace inclusivity, akin to gangs in the US, and other subcultures like J-rockers, gothlolis, or aspiring Tokyo University students. The “otaku” label is presented as another such identity marker. The key distinction highlighted is that, with phenomena like “Densha Otoko,” the label is no longer perceived as a mark of shame or disgrace, unlike being a former hikikomori. While otaku are generally characterized as shy, somewhat introverted, and uneasy around women, these are seen as commonalities that differentiate them from more outgoing groups, similar to the “jocks” versus “nerds” dichotomy. The author clarifies that this doesn’t preclude the existence of shy jocks or aggressive nerds, but rather points to shared personality traits within each label that reinforce and define these behaviors.
Consequently, otaku engage in activities associated with their identity, often because it is intrinsically linked to who they are. This can include lining up overnight for a new video game release or spending considerable amounts of money to boost a song like “Hare Hare Yukai” on the Oricon rankings. The author references a YouTube video demonstrating a “Haruhi Akiba gathering” as an illustration. The reality for many is that they embrace their group identity with pride, much like other Japanese social groups. They tend not to self-criticize, even when flaws are apparent, and generally do not leverage their group affiliation for personal advantage. Political engagement is seen as something for “scums” and untrustworthy individuals seeking to manipulate the public.
The author then addresses a point that was somewhat neglected in another analysis but touched upon by Sakamoto: the involvement of marketing and franchise businesses. These entities are characterized as being untrustworthy and manipulative, not unlike politicians, and they specifically target the otaku demographic. The author questions the appeal of “loliporn,” acknowledging the significant industry surrounding such content. While not claiming all otaku are pedophiles, the author notes the presence of many pedophiles within this demographic. The appeal of content like “Negima,” which leans towards ephebiphilia, is also questioned. The author ponders why people spend money on such material, attributing it to it being the “otaku thing to do.” They express a lack of redeeming value in this, despite admitting personal guilt in spending money on “guilty pleasures” like “Cyber Team in Akihabara.” The core question posed is whether the economic power of otaku, seen as their greatest asset, is being exploited for base desires. A visit to Akihabara’s media stores, the author suggests, would strongly reinforce this impression. The author laments the apparent decline of “good, solid stuff” that Westerners often recommend as anime and manga, questioning if such quality content is now relegated only to the mainstream.
If this indeed is the case, the author declares full support for Mimei Sakamoto’s stance. The specific details of “moe” or syntax are deemed less important than the fact that this is a group of people holding beliefs that are considered unfit and unhealthy. This is presented as a genuine social problem. While the issue may have been brought to light through provocative statements like “moe is pedophilic” and “otaku are lock-in scums,” the author wonders how close these generalizations are to the truth.
