UlasanAnime.com – The terms “otaku” and “moe” are often debated, with their meanings shifting across different languages, cultures, subcultures, and individuals. While it’s not about being a “definition Nazi,” it’s crucial to understand what truly defines these terms, especially when people use them to describe themselves or others. This article delves into the core characteristics of fanaticism within fandom, questioning whether one truly qualifies as an “otaku” if this element is absent.
Before dissecting terms like “otaku” or “moe,” the fundamental concept of a “fan” needs to be established. It’s not about being a “geek,” which might offer a clearer, less culturally-bound definition. The author isn’t concerned with how figures like Patton Oswalt use “otaku” or the academic discussions by individuals like Henry Jenkins regarding pop culture’s role in modern discourse. Instead, the focus is on the fanaticism present in fans, or more importantly, the lack thereof. This fanaticism is presented as a defining trait of being a fan, forming the foundational level for understanding groups like Gleeks or otaku. Without a certain degree of fanaticism, one cannot truly belong to these communities.
Wikipedia’s definition of a fan provides a straightforward starting point. It suggests that to be a fan, one needs to be proactive and show enthusiasm, much like climbing the corporate ladder. While the expression of this enthusiasm varies greatly among individuals and fan scenes, the core element is the object of one’s passion. Therefore, two key elements define a fan:
There is a passion; for something.
The word “passion” is used as a concise term for this fanaticism. Words like “like” are deemed insufficient. For instance, while one might “like” vanilla ice cream, it doesn’t make them a fan in the true sense, as they likely don’t attend ice cream conventions or collect memorabilia. Similarly, having a favorite color doesn’t make one a fan of that color. The author acknowledges that drawing a precise line is debatable but opts for “passion” as an unmistakable threshold.
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This concept of passion resonates strongly with traditional fandoms like stamp collecting, knitting, or even Star Trek. However, it becomes less clear with terms like “film buff” or, problematically, the American usage of “otaku.”
To illustrate further, the author uses books and bibliophiles as a comparative example. Books and their enthusiasts have a long history, allowing for a more nuanced understanding of different types of people who appreciate print media.
There’s a notion that book fans, or bibliophiles, exist. They are fans of books, they like books, and they are proactive and enthusiastic about them. Their passion can extend to various aspects of books, including fiction, non-fiction, references, magazines, newspapers, paper quality, binding, and even how they are displayed. They might even be fans of library sciences or other meta-related topics. However, these bibliophiles may or may not have specific tastes regarding particular subject matters within books. For example, a bibliophile might like or dislike the “Twilight” series.
This highlights the simple application of passion to specific things. It’s akin to how an anime otaku might dislike “Fractale,” or dislike the concept of “moe,” or simply lack an appreciation for them. The absence of such specific passions or dislikes, when applied to a particular subject, can indicate a lack of true fandom.
If an 8-year-old expresses love for the animated film “Ponyo,” the author wouldn’t label them an otaku. Similarly, it’s illogical to call everyone who likes “Twilight” bibliophiles. By extension, anime otaku are those who genuinely like anime, not merely a few shows while being dismissive of all others. “Gleeks” are not necessarily fans of television programming in general, prime-time shows, FOX programming, or even musicals. The defining element is missing.
Fanaticism is the crucial indicator of whether someone is a true fan. Simply writing about a subject doesn’t make one a fan. The author uses their own blog about eroge as an example; writing about it, or even playing it, doesn’t automatically make them a fan in the same way it doesn’t make someone else who doesn’t play it any less of a fan. Reviewing anime doesn’t make a person a fan either. It’s about one’s inner passion, not external actions, that reveals their fanaticism. What you like, not who you identify with, determines the type of fan you are.
Genuine otaku, the author posits, engage in very little social activity with other fans. They don’t participate in many of the activities that pop-culture scholars study, such as fansubbing, YouTube memes, or AMVs. In simpler terms, if someone truly loves anime, their primary activity would be watching it. Given the vast amount of anime available, true anime otaku would likely spend most of their “fan time” watching anime and perhaps buying it, rather than attending conventions or engaging in other activities often associated with self-proclaimed otaku. Beyond this core activity, further engagement becomes a matter of personal inclinations and preferences for satisfying their passion for anime.
This is, of course, just one interpretation of an anime otaku. There are many variations, and some may indeed socialize to enhance their fandom. However, this veers into the territory of drawing lines, which the author previously sidestepped. For instance, someone might enjoy drawing fan art of characters, or they might enjoy anime and socializing equally. The author suggests this latter scenario might be true for most fans who fit the common understanding of what makes a fan. However, when these secondary instincts become the defining characteristic of one’s “otaku” nature, it shifts from being about being an otaku to being a “scenester.”
Similarly, the author observes that sub-genres and fandoms that create an “us-versus-them” dynamic often promote a notion of fandom defined by understanding. Simply understanding and discussing anime fandom doesn’t equate to being a fan. This is particularly true in America today, where fandom is often tied to identity and can even become political. In contrast, the original Japanese concept of “otaku” was more about obsessive dedication.
Fandom appropriates because fanaticism stems from a sense of need. Fans take what they can to satisfy this need. For some, this need is rooted in identity. However, this isn’t universally true. When people adapt words and labels to their own uses, complaints arise because individuals are not alone and are not alike, especially as definitions diverge when more people adopt the same label. A key observation is that fans readily adopt and adapt anything available, from words and catchphrases to music videos and beyond, to suit their own purposes.
