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Monday, 3 February 2014

Kanadajin Tales!

Just because I'm not a gaijin at the moment doesn't mean that the people around me have stopped saying hilarious things.

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President: I don't really go to that bar much anymore. Not since my one friend got knocked up with twins and the other one moved to PoCo to be a stripper.

*

President: You gonna walk me all the way to my class again?
Rude Boy: Yeah, I always have plenty of time to make it all the way over there and then get back to mine.
President: “Plenty of time” meaning “less than five minutes late?”
Rude Boy: Sometimes ten.

*

Rude Boy: Magma is beneath the earth, lava has already surfaced. Though I don't know why you need two words. I mean what the fuck do you call water when it's still underground?
Friend: Groundwater.
Rude Boy: Um, ok, what do you call gold when it—
Friend: Groundgold.

*

Rude Boy: How's Valentino?
Jugs: He's being detained under the Mental Health Act in a hospital in Salmon Arm.
(beat)
Rude Boy: Why Salmon Arm?

*

Rude Boy: I really badly want to learn more Korean.
Jugs: Maybe you need a Korean girlfriend.
Rude Boy: Maybe. There's a pretty hot K-girl that I see around campus sometimes.
Jugs: Well, get on that! (beat) Literally!

*

Jugs: The Chinese girl at Subway made me a terrible sub and I'm really upset about it! Lol
Rude Boy: Yeah? Cause id really like to...“eat her sandwich.”

*

President's ex-boyfriend: The job market's pretty much shit everywhere. Like my friend in Kentucky, he says, “I theoretically know how to manufacture bioweapons, and I'm working in a cafeteria! Serving bioweapons!”

*

Driving down a long, straight, four-lane stretch of road at 1 am, I saw a few teenagers standing around. One was crouched next to the curb, but I assumed he was just readying himself for a fast-action jaywalk when I passed – until, that is, he ran straight at my car, actually leading me a little. I swerved away and sharply accelerated, then loosed a blast from the horn, which, unfortunately, was probably very much to their satisfaction, but felt kind of necessary, since I was now hurtling through an uncontrolled intersection going the wrong way.

The game, I surmise, was to try and touch me as I passed, which struck me as an exceptionally stupid pastime. Setting aside how much it would hurt to touch 1000 pounds of metal travelling at 60+ kph, what if, you know, I had run him the fuck over? I tried to decide if I'd have played such a game when I was in high school. Yeah I totally would have. But you know what. Bullfighting, BASE jumping, driving at face-melting speeds, doing face-melting amounts of heroin – I totally identify with the need to slap death on the ass. Go out and do what you have to. But for God's sake, if you're going to risk your life for the thrill of it, don't implicate anybody else! I love driving, don't fucking ruin that for me.

Although, I'm sure they weren't doing this to push themselves to the limit and conquer the last enemy that shall be destroyed. They were probably just idiots.

*

Rude Boy: Damn, looks like the hot Chinese girl from Subway has a boyfriend! Better think of a way to break them up.
Jugs: That should NOT be your first reaction.
Rude Boy: What, like I'm going to sleep with her while they're still dating?! That would just be immoral!
President: You're a terrible person.

*

Rude Boy's father: Do you charge your phone every night? Or whenever it is you sleep?

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Rude Boy: They're razing the doutonnbori bridge to make way for an outdoor swimming pool ARE YOU ACTUALLY KIDDING ME HASHIMOTO WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
President: Umm k?
President: Outdoor pool = Osaka girls in bikins tho? Lol
Rude Boy: ...down with the doutonbori bridge
President: Lol

*

Rude Boy: I'm putting all my stuff together on top of the fridge. So don't try to set things on fire with the beer or drink the butane.

*

President: Hey, sup.
Rude Boy: Hey Sugartits.
President and friend: (blink)
President: I guess that's my new nickname. I'm not even going to question it.

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Classmate: (hands Rude Boy a printout)
Rude Boy: Thanks. You should be a quarterback.
Classmate: ...because of my pass?
Other classmate: That joke was bad and you should feel bad.

*

Politics major girl: She and I had a prior class together.
Rude Boy: You had a pirate class together?!
Politics major girl: A prior class.
Rude Boy: Oh, I got excited for a minute there. I thought maybe this was a new program they were offering this year, like you could get your Major in Piracy or something.
Politics major girl: I think you can, it's called “Business.”

*

Jugs: Is it still cold as tits out?
Rude Boy: Nah, it warmed up.
Jugs: Hm. I'll take two jackets anyway, it might be cold as tits again later.

*

Jugs: Valentino's a straight gay man. He's completely straight, but he dates dudes. It's weird.

*

Driving home one day, doing about 90 down a long straight stretch, a deer jumped out at me. Like a moron I hit my brakes and swerved too hard (luckily the animal immediately went “Nope, fuck this” and bounded away), and unfortunately it turned out I was on black ice, you know, just for good measure. 

 completely lost control and was pretty much just along for the ride from here on in. My entire vehicle swung around 270 degrees, so that I was now perpendicular to the road, with still going what had to have been at least 70 or higher, which is generally faster than you want to be going when you're travelling straight sideways. My rear wheels carved a huge scar through the snow as I slid but, incredibly, I didn't hit anything other than a few withered weeds. And this is going to sound like posturing, but at no point during this did I feel at all alarmed or frightened, but just like, well, nothing to do now but wait until we stop. It was interesting.

Once I finally slid to a halt, a looong way down the road, I sort of sat there for a moment to see if anything else was going to happen, then, when I realised it wasn't, I set the car into gear, eased back onto the road, and continued on my way, except ratcheting things down to 60.

Coincidentally, a mechanic later looked over my winter tires and was like “lolno” – still good tread left, but grown hard as tits. To recap, deer, black ice, bad tires – so, completely my fault, but also kind of not. I am kind of glad I had the experience though, as I now know what it feels like to spin around and to slide like that. But perhaps more to the point, it was a goddamn miracle that it happened on a straight stretch.

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Jugs: I have three boyfriends and two girlfriends...except one of my boyfriends broke up with me because I wouldn't stop sleeping with his ex-boyfriend...and one of my girlfriends has a Japanese boyfriend who doesn't know about me.
Rude Boy: I'm going to quote that in Kandajin Tales and provide no context whatsoever.

*


Jugs's coworker: My hair today is ri-dyke-ulous! (beat) It's funny because I'm a dyke.

Sunday, 26 January 2014

Philosophy of Fullmetal Alchemist, Part 3



Appendix: Japanese interpretations

Before starting this series I googled “philosophy of fullmetal alchemist,” but I didn't come up with much, so my previous two parts in this series may very well comrpise the fullest philosophical treatment of this series in English. However, there's a lot more material available in Japanese. After writing the main body of this post – to keep my interpretation original – I gave 「鋼の錬金術師 哲学」a try. Here's some of the top results.


Kira Alicetear says that she (?) feels an affinity for the military characters, specifically those in Mustang's crew. “I particularly like that the Flame Alchemist is cold on the outside but burns with passion on the inside, and I like Hughes too, but that might just be because I've always had a thing for men of action.” She's not sure how she feels about Hawkeye because, except for her romance plotline, there's little connecting her to the main story. “Oh, and I like Scar and Izumi too.”

“But I think the real reason I came to like Fullmetal Alchemist...was its world.” She explains the principles of touka koukan, using, as I do, the example of a chemical equation. She makes the additional point that for a chemical reaction to occur, some kind of energy is required, speculating that it may come from living organisms. When watching the anime, she thought that the concept was similar to something she'd heard of before, but only remembered when she went to read the tankoubon.

“It was similar to the essence of the Study of Logical Philosophy.” Oh for fuck's sake, now she's talking about Wittgenstein. I guess that means I was onto something when I was ranting about him earlier, but on the other hand, Wittgenstein. Go away, Wittgenstein, go away. “Although I've never actually read Wittgenstein's book 'Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.'” You're better off, sweetheart. Next part's hard to translate – I think it says that in Wittgenstein, the interaction of language and the world form the figurative “map?” And that the one-to-one correspondence of language and events is similar to the system of alchemy. Another example:

“Language (the internal structure of a proposition) → (Wittgenstein's logical method) → the World (the internal structure of events)”

“The first example [of the chemical equation] and the second example can have a (logical) one-to-one correspondence, and Wittgenstein's logical method corresponds to military drilling. Thus you can conclude that alchemy exists currently (logical philosophy), and that so do alchemists (Wittgenstein). Lol.”

“In Wittgenstein's logical method, you can say that the world and language are of equal value. If you put this to practical use, it means that if the internal structure of the world changes, the internal structure of language changes along with it.” Sure. If language exists to describe the world, then naturally it must change to suit the times. “However, if the internal structure of language changes, the internal structure of the world that it indicates changes with it as well.” I can dig that, too. As far as I can tell language both drives and reflects culture. However, Kira seems to say that the relationship is not quite the same, because in Wittgenstein, “'there is only one interaction between the real world and language,' that is, an equivalent value that goes in only one direction.”

Having said all this, Kira still believes that we can “smash” Wittgenstein's philosophy. “That is to say, there exists a society that can only be seen as a glimpsed fantasy of 'if the internal structure of language changes, the internal structure of the world changes.' It's Japan. A society that satisfies this theory existed 1000 years before Wittgenstein. The so-called 'belief in the soul of language,' and societies with taboos, are certainly fantasies, at the very least it is thought that songs and words have influenced Japanese culture.” OK, you grabbed my attention with the bold, no-frills declaration of “it's Japan,” but are you going to at least justify how this is specific to Japan and not just world cultures in general? “I've strayed from my main point.” I guess not.

“Touka koukan is not the only resemblance between the world of Hagaren and the logic of Wittgen.” Now she explains the taboo of human resurrection and its impossibility. This is because of the law of touka koukan, which prevented the brothers' mother from actually returning to the world of the living in spite of their successfully creating a human body. “In the logic of the world (Truth) that cannot be reached simply through the one-to-one correspondence of language and the world, the frustration of these two alchemists (Ed and Wittgenstein) is very similar.” I think I know what she's referencing. Wittgenstein believes that words are insufficient means for describing/understanding the world, saying that once you have understood something you must discard the linguistic steps you took to get there or as he puts it “[he] must so to speak throw away the ladder after he has climbed up on it.”

She also mentions that some of Wittgenstein's ideas seem to be contradicted by Goedel's incompleteness theorem, “though it was written in Goedel's book that Wittgenstein actually misunderstood the incompleteness theorem,” but that this allowed Wittgenstein to move closer to his “language game” concept – much as Ed and Al were able to use their mistake to move closer to the Door of Truth.


The first respondent identifies the theme of karmic retribution, represented in the rules of touka koukan. There is a conflict between absolute rules and morality, and the morals of the main characters usually win out. Kimblee seems to be a mouthpiece for Arakawa. He preaches that humanity should own up to its failings and not avert its eyes from the dirty things it has done. In his last moments, Kimblee allows the brothers to succeed. You could look at this as either opportunism, or an interesting conclusion. However, she seems not to have put any hidden meaning in Hagaren, and it is probably just as it appears (though I, Rude Boy, hasten to note that this is different from there being no meaning).

The second respondent finds it interesting that all attempts at human resurrection fail without exception. This view of death must have been something Arakawa wanted to get across. Also, “zen to ichi” seems to have been inspired from the ideas of the ancient Hellenistic societies.


“Alchemy comes up often in discussions of the history of engineering.” I would not have guessed that. “The worldview of alchemy explains the achievements of classical mechanics and Newton.” Wait, people study the history of engineering? “The 'touka koukan' idea from Hagane no Renkinjutsushi explains the viewpoint of engineers.”

“Like, the 'touka koukan' idea from Hagane no Renkinjutsushi, you know?
“Basically touka koukan = you have to have something of equal value to exchange, you know?
“To obtain, something of equal value must be lost, you know? < Anime.
“People cannot obtain anything without first giving something up, you know? < manga. That is, 'logic = the path that people must protect.' It's wonderful!”

“I wonder if Philsophy is required material for Engineering?”

“Philosophy and Biology are kind of the same, aren't they. Both desire to understand the roots of the world. Likewise, the alchemists of Hagaren attempt to understand the truth of the world. I'm sure our teacher must have felt something from Hagaren, to have written such a textbook. Ahh, I'd really like to hear what our teacher thinks of the philosophical themes in Hagaren if s/he were to read it...!”


Oh, here's a relatively recent analysis, from just this last year. Motoharu tells us that she – let's just say she unless I hear otherwise – greatly enjoyed the manga, but that there were a few points she just couldn't accept. Her first question has to do with Ed and Al's activities from the middle of the story to the end, when they confront Homunculus, and Hohenheim. The second question is Ed's reasons for destroying his alchemical knowledge in the climax.

There are two main differences between Hohenheim's alchemy and Homunculus's. First, Hohenheim's seems more similar to Eastern Alchemy, whereas Homunculus leans more towards Western Alchemy. Second, and more importantly, in Hohenheim, and only in Hohenheim, the sacrificed Xerxesians seem to accept his actions, and join the fight. “In other words, Homunculus does not acknowledge that his (supposedly) unlimited power comes from human sacrifice, but Hohenheim gains their approval by asking for permission? You can think of Hohenheim's gaining consent through dialogue as deception on his part.” Because at the end of the day, he's still using their stolen lives.

Motoharu surprises me by suddenly announcing that you can look at Hagaren through a Marxist analysis. I think I kind of see where this is going, if we're taking the touka koukan angle. Oh, yeah, we're taking the touka koukan angle. If Person A wants something, and Person B has it, Person A must have something of equal value to offer to Person A in order to get it. “These are the absolute basics of economic theory.” Ha! Now she's using the Youswell example, just like I did. She makes the interesting point that there is some degree of arbitrariness in attempting to come to a consensus when making a trade, which is certainly true, since individuals place varying worth on the same things; you or I would probably look on Hagaren merchandise as quite valuable, but Great Aunt Gertrude might not feel the same way.

Similarly, there's clearly a huge difference in value between coal-mining rights and one night's lodging at an inn, demonstrating that time is not valuable in the sense that other things (like money) are valuable. “Let's call this 'the timeless exchange paradigm.'” I think this might be referencing the Marxist point that labour is implicitly (and thus unequally, and perhaps unfairly) assigned a value based on the value of the goods being produced. “This means that based on the concept of time in relation to the timeless paradigm, the concept of 'the accumulation of capital' does not exist.”

“Incidentally, this paradigm changes in the middle of the story.” While at first Philosopher's Stones appear to “ignore (or overcome)” the law of equivalent exchange, we eventually learn that they are actually just a store of power, “like a bank.” Even the seven homunculi are beholden to the limitations of this seemingly inexhaustible power, as is Hohenheim and, for that matter, even Homunculus himself. “At this point, the 'timeless exchange paradigm' becomes the 'within-time exchange paradigm.'” I'm having trouble following her myself, so it's probably even harder trying to do it secondhand and in translation. I'm sorry. I'm trying. Ah! Here we go: Homunculus and Hohenheim are huge stores of power, to the point that they seem to have actually escaped the constraints of touka koukan, but, in reality, are still bound by them. So, if I'm reading this right, she's trying to tell us that Hohenheim and Homunculus represent bigwig capitalists, who are still, no matter how much capital they may accumulate, bound by the rules of economics?

There is, however, a fundamental difference between the two: Homunculus views his accumulated souls as tools to be used, and Hohenheim looks at them as individuals (Kantian ethics!!). Oh, but in the end she says that she finds the story of Hohenheim and the brothers managing to overcome the practically omnipotent Homunculus to be a stale and hackneyed development. Well, I'm not sure what else she thought might happen. Whatever other surprises the series held for me, I was always always pretty sure that the heroes would pull through in the end somehow. She concludes the post with some mentions of “violence” and how she finds it vexing that Homunculus is able to succeed in reaching the moon by using it as a tool, and something about parental abandonment vis-a-vis Homunculus/Hohenheim and Hohenheim/Ed and Al, but it's less coherent than the rest of the post. She also doesn't address her second question of why Ed destroyed his Door of Truth and I can't find a Part 2 anywhere, so I'm not sure what's up with that.


This site here contains three densely academic pieces containing a lot of stuff I had to look up, so my explanations may not be up to par, and also we won't go into as much depth because they're kind of hard for me to translate. All three deal with Hermeticism, a brand of philosophy I've heard of but never studied. As the one user noted earlier, referring to God as the All or the One, as in Hagaren, is very Hermetic. It's not dissimilar to Tillich's God, in that He is neither a single all-powerful God nor manifested in a pantheon of lesser gods but rather is all over the damn place all the time. Among other things, it also has a stance on alchemy, which it views in the wider context of chemical reactions – again, like Hagaren. More importantly, it reveals the truths of life and death, and is one of the trinity of disciplines essential for understanding the world, the other being astrology and theurgy (magic). Theurgy is the gods, astrology is the stars, and alchemy is the sun, which recalls the scene in Xerxes when Edward explains the symbolism of the stone slab to the military guys.

Fulcanelli - a guy who wrote a bunch of stuff in the 1920s. According to the article, he was a 20th Century...um, alchemist. K...ay. And the final Hermetic philosopher of that era as well. One of his extant works deals with alchemy and Kabbalah, the true secrets of which are hidden in Notre Dame, a seat of power for the Freemasons. Really just kind of losing credibility with every sentence here, aren't we. It throws out a bunch of other names too, ask in the comments if you want to know what they are. It concludes with a story of a doctor he once knew suddenly approaching Fulcanelli on the street, in 1954, when that doctor should have been 113 years old, but “certainly didn't look it.”

Jakob Bohme - a Lutheran theologian. I don't know, I'm looking over this stuff, and a lot of it – like that humans have fallen from a state of grace to a state of pain thanks to original sin, and that demons are fallen angels – I mean I just thought that stuff wasn't Bohmean thinking but more just, you know, the Bible. But that's why I undertook this little exercise. Also, though the author does claim that Bohme is a totally Hermetic kind of a guy, this whole entry is mostly just a long story with no discernible connection to either Hagaren or alchemy, so let's move on.

Isaac Newton - noted mostly for things like revolutionizing the discipline of physics and inventing calculus, but for whom these pursuits were really just diversions in the path of his true goal: learning to transmute lead into gold, despite the fact that this had been pretty conclusively proven impossible decades earlier. There's mention of the Fellowship of the Rosy Cross, which – I mean, seriously, first the Freemasons, now this? What's going on with all this conspiracy theory stuff? Newton wrote something called “Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica.” Ah, guys, if I could interject, I know “natural philosophy” has “philosophy” in the name, but come on now, please let's be serious.


So here's a guy named Tatsuya. The site layout is extremely pink and his banner is a cute fluffy bunny. I'm not even going to going to question it.

He explains the manga quote that gave birth to the monologue that opens each episode of the 2003 anime, and restates it as “People cannot mature without pain,” or, no pain, no gain, as we would say in English. “And you can say the same thing in business,” because you have to learn from your mistakes in order to advance. Well, I'm not sure that that's a principle that's specific to business exactly, but true enough. In other words, “you can overcome difficulty if you're prepared to face up to it,” which seems kind of obvious, but you know.


Claims that the heart of alchemy is self-transformation more than anything, which you could certainly make an argument for given the events of Hagaren. It also mentions that you can separate a human being's daily life into the separate components of the morning, afternoon, and night, which are classified as “niguredo,” “arubedo,” and “rubedo,” respectively. I don't know what those are in English (they're obviously Japanized from another language entirely), but they seemed kind of important, so let me know if you have any ideas.

UPDATE: An Anonymous commenter clued me in: The words are "translated for the Latin words nigredo, albedo, and rubedo. They along with citrinitas are the 4 stages of alchemy. They roughly translate into English as the blacking (nigredo), the whitening (albedo), the yellowing (citrinitas), and the redding (rubedo)." They correspond to decomposition, purification, transmutation, and success. (There's some stuff in there about Jung as well, but I don't think that exactly concerns our philosophical enquiries.) During his kerfuffle with Scar, Armstrong lays out a very similar, but slightly simplified sequence of understanding -> decomposition -> recomposition, so Arakawa's sort of showing her work here. I gather that this site is contending that the stages it identifies are intended as analogues to the progression of a person's internal transformation, or, more generally, to the progress of a work of creativity or labour. So, even in something fantastic and fictional like alchemy, we can still find something thought-provoking and relevant to our own lives.

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That's it for my philosophical analysis of Fullmetal Alchemist. I originally intended it to be, like, maybe 2000 words, all in one post, but then somehow I got going and it just turned into this monster. My most popular post ever, week in, week out, has been that stupid fucking Evangelion analysis that I wrote in ten minutes and then vomited onto the Internet, so in all likelihood this three-part series will now ensure that four of my top five posts will be anime-related, forever. I guess that's all right, especially if a few visitors end up staying. Point is, I hope you enjoyed this short series, and see you again.

Monday, 20 January 2014

Asians can be good at sports too, America

K so the Australian Open was on TV at my parents' house a few nights ago and I happened to tune in to a match between Zheng and Dellaqua, whoever those people are. On the rare occasion that I find myself watching sports I nearly always cheer for the Asian team if there is one, just because, you know, Asia. So I watched for a couple of minutes and I noticed something awfully peculiar. Every single shot was of Dellaqua. Dellaqua serving. Dellaqua receiving serve. Dellaqua stretching between points. Actually, I didn't even find out what Zheng looked like until she challenged a call. Up to that point she was just a blue blur somewhere in the distance, because they were only showing her when it was also possible to capture Dellaqua in the same shot.

The commentary was pretty awful as well. Maria Carillo and that whole gang have a long and torrid history of glorifying and focussing on the one American player among a vast pool of international athletes even when that one American is middle-of-the-pack at best, so I wasn't exactly surprised that this happened, but it was still disheartening. Dellaqua makes a great shot – wow, Dellaqua really made a great shot there! Zheng makes a great shot – wow, Dellaqua really needs to pick it up!

Now no disrespect to Dellaqua. She did win and by a pretty handy margin at that, so, yeah, definitely. She was also an Australian player playing in Australia so I won't even rip on the crowd for being so uniformly biased. I'm not saying she didn't deserve to win, or even that she didn't deserve praise or attention. But I will say that she certainly didn't deserve all of it. Don't skimp on shots of a Chinese girl just because there's a white girl you could be showing instead.

It was kinda disgusting. I fucking hate sports, but even I know that there've been all kinds of breakout Asian athletes outside of Asia. Yao Ming comes to mind. Then there was that other basketball player whose name I can't remember, but who inspired ridicule because he was Asian. There was a female Asian golfer a few years back who was supposed to be pretty good. Tiger Woods is half-Asian. And oh yeah, how about motherfucking Kim Yuna and that Japanese girl (Asada) that the press manufactured a rivalry with for her – they represented Asian countries, sure, but they were competing against (and succeeding over) athletes from all over the world, because it was the goddamn Olympics.

It all reminded me of a story I read in the newspaper last week. Which means a lot of you probably know all about this already but I wanted to go a little K-blog on you and throw my two cents in, and maybe bring it to your attention if you haven't heard. Basically the United States just held its US Women's Figure Skating Grand Championships or whatever, and of the top four competitors, one was Japanese-American. I didn't watch, but according to reports, she skated quite well and placed third. (I don't have the expertise to comment on this, but someone I talked to did say "she was the only one who didn't fuck up.") Now customarily, the top three finishers in this tournament go on to represent the US at the Olympics, which you may have heard are like, pretty soon. But the US decided to break with tradition and sub out Nagasu for the fourth-place finisher.

Decide for yourself whether or not it's significant that Nagasu is American-born and Wagner is not, but point is, as one commentator put it, “So, the United States is sending three blonde white girls to represent it at the Olympics.” At an international competition where everybody shows the world what their country is all about. Where they are supposed to be sending their very best athletes, drawn from all corners of society. An amateur competition that pretends to effect the values of equality and sportsmanship.

Has this always been a thing? Well obviously it was a thing a hundred years ago, I mean has it always recently been a thing? Probably it has, I'm not really a sociology guy so I tend to be slow to pick up on stuff like this, but that just strengthens my point, really, because when even a guy like me, who doesn't notice this stuff, is taking notice and finding a problem, then obviously we've really got a fucking problem. Christ.


Go kick those little blonde girls' asses, Yuna.

Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Philosophy of Fullmetal Alchemist, Part 2


Last post, I talked about what I thought are the tertiary and secondary themes of Fullmetal Alchemist ("faith" and "touka koukan," respectively). Now it's finally time to talk about what I feel to be the most important of all. I skirted spoiler territory before, but this time I'm discussing the ending, so tread with caution, proceed at your own risk, etc.

Primary theme: Kantian ethics

This theme is interlaced throughout the entire series in little decisions and single lines, making it difficult to pick out particular instances demonstrating it. However, I think it's pretty clear that, even if unintentional, this is the main theme of the entire work, and there's nothing wrong with it being a little vague, because it's a damn good one.

You can literally teach a whole course on just Kantian ethics, which would make for a really long blog post, so you'll have to excuse me for glossing over some things here. The most obvious and maybe the most important element is Kant's “categorical imperative.” There's a Cracked article I'll steal from – I wanted to link to it, but damned if I can find it. The main point for us is, suppose you're at work one day holding a pen. You remember that you're going to need a pen later, but do not own one because you're a terrible planner, and you realise that your employer has boxes and boxes of these things. You contemplate the ethical ramifications that would ensue if you were to just gank it. You benefit; your employer does not suffer; hell, it would be immoral not to steal it. But according to Kant, the only way for that to work is if you can extrapolate it to a universal maxim, something like, “stealing is permissible.” The circumstances are irrelevant. So if it's ok for you to steal a pen from your company, it's ok for your company to steal your car from you. In this case property would become meaningless and society would cease to function, so we reject this maxim and conclude that theft is morally wrong.

So any given action is either acceptable, or it is not acceptable, and this standard is to be applied across all situations we can find. Once, when I was Vice President of my university Japanese Club, one of the popular girls was bullying a little nerdy kid that none of them liked; I called her over, had a private conversation about why that was unacceptable, and told her to cut that shit out. She pouted about it, but what she didn't know was that I couldn't fucking stand that kid either. But sometimes things are right, because they are right.

This is contrasted with the school of ethics founded by John Stuart Mill, called utilitarianism, which holds that morality is dependent on the exact circumstances. I'll give you a classic example. Suppose you manage the trolley switchboard in a mine. By swapping junctures, you can control the paths of all trolleys at all times, and when you're not busy with that you're allowed to read and listen to music. It's not a bad gig, but oh my God! The miners have lost control of one of the trolleys and it's now careening down one of the main shafts!! You realise that, tragically, it will most assuredly kill ten miners who are directly in its path. But then you have an idea. With the crank of a single lever, you can direct it onto an alternate path – a path where one lone miner is toiling away. You now have the power to decide who dies: One person, or ten people. (There is no third option. You cannot save all eleven. Nobody will hear the noise of the approaching trolley and jump away. You will not face legal consequences. Either one person will die, or ten; those are the only possible outcomes.) What do?

For most people the answer is obvious. It sucks for that one guy, but it would suck a lot more, collectively, for those ten. So they flip the switch. Ahh, shit! Now you're a murderer! If you'd only listened to Kant, and not done anything, now you wouldn't have that poor guy's blood on your hands! But maybe that's worth it. A little personal pain and one death for saving ten lives? Maybe that's an equivalent exchange we can deal with.

OK, let's change the dynamics then. This time, let's say that the one miner isn't a stranger, it's your best friend. Now what do you do? Do you have a greater obligation to one friend than you do to ten strangers? What if you're amongst the ten? What if you're the one? What if Stalin is amongst the ten? What if Mother Theresa is the one? What if instead of ten versus one, it's ten versus nine? Would the one extra life saved be worth it for bloodying your hands? What if it was one human being versus one million sea turtles? One million ants? A crate full of one million dollars that you get to keep if it survives? A billion? Enough money to feed a billion hungry people? There's a whole sub-field of ethics called trolleyology that specifically deals with the most ridiculous and amusing variations on this thought experiment that people can possibly think up.

So there are the two perspectives in the abstract. You could characterize Kantian ethics as putting importance on the process, and utilitarianism as focussing on the results. (My personal opinion, you ask? Each is incomplete, and in the real world we need both.) What would have been really interesting is if Edward had been forced to make some kind of difficult decision where something catastrophic would happen either way, and he'd have to choose between, say, the death of either a bunch of soldiers he'd never met, or just his friend Furey. That never happens because he always finds a way to come through – which, from a literary standpoint, says something in itself – but either way it's pretty clear that Edward is a staunch Kantian. It comes across as he consistently demonstrates an unwillingness to yield in his ideals, and gets awfully angry at anyone who strays from their own.

I think the earliest manifestation of this, and one which persists throughout, is the Elric Brothers' refusal to kill anyone. This extends to all human enemies, including ones who are currently in the act of trying to kill them. After their failed human transmutation, they adopted the conviction that they will never again hurt anyone as a result of their foolishness, or at least they'll do their best not to let it happen. They even let both Pride and Envy stick around after their power has been drained, despite the knowledge that this could come back to bite them at some point; in the case of Envy, it kind of does, but Ed doesn't waste any energy on regret. 

They're not super keen on anybody else killing, either. Edward prevents Mustang from finally killing Envy, which was more to stop him from casting a further shadow on his own soul than anything, but he also gets upset whenever battle makes the death of their enemies a necessity. Several characters comment on this tendency, most of them dismissing it as naiive. Mustang and Hawkeye tell Edward to wake up to reality; Miles notes that it's usually easier to kill a defeated enemy than to risk leaving them alive, and it's a mark of their character that the boys have chosen the harder path.

Equally relevant to our analysis, both Edward and Alphonse are reluctant to make use of any of the several Philosopher's Stones they come into over the course of the story. Despite knowing that they could quickly and easily use them to recover their bodies, they refuse to do so once they learn that the Stones are powered by captured human souls. There is a little angst about whether the deceased souls (and thus Al himself, by extension, since he is only a soul in a suit of armour) are no more than “energy,” or are in fact identical to living, breathing humans – eventually it turns out that they still have thoughts and wills, making it doubly clear that it would be inappropriate to sacrifice them just to pursue their own interests, but the two are adamant in their compassion long before they learn this. Several characters do end up using Philosopher's Stones on the reasoning that the people sacrificed to create the stones would have preferred not to die for nothing...which is a dangerous game to play because you can rationalize literally anything to yourself if you really want to, although from the little we see of the ancient Xerxesians it does seem that they wish to give their own deaths meaning and finally pass on.

For the most part, though, the brothers stick to their Kantian ideals. Their reluctance to use the Philosopher's Stones is a manifestation of the critical Kantian principle that you must not use others as a “means to an end.” Each human being, you see, is an end in and of herself, making it immoral to use her simply to gain something else. This is why it's wrong for your little sister to date that guy just to get at his best friend.

This, by the way, is actually very similar to the ethical constructions of Ayn Rand. (Oh, don't look at me like that.) Though she had some nasty things to say about Kant and would balk at me putting the two of them together, mainly because Kant derives his concept of morality from God and she was a raving atheist, they actually had some of the exact same ideas. Rand's main thesis, and the kernel from which she extends her entire body of thought, is the unqualified value of the (rights of the) individual above all else. However, this doesn't mean you have the right to do whatever you want, because everyone else has their rights as an individual as well. All you have is the right to pursue your own self-interest, unimpeded by anyone else, who may also pursue their own self-interest. As she says, “Man – every man – is an end in himself, not a means to the ends of others; he must live for himself, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself.” I don't know about you, but that sounds awfully Kantian to me.

As an aside, if you wanted to, you could also do a bit of an exploration on what it means to be dead, and how those answers are handled in Hagaren's Philosopher's Stones. Should the dead serve the living, since they're gone and we're still here? Or do we have a responsibility to the dead, because they can no longer act for themselves? Certainly if you promise your father that you're going to finish university, and then he dies, that does not release you from that promise. But are we obligated to try and carry out the vision of our forebears, without whom our current world would never have come to be, or do we inherit, along with the world, the right and even the responsibility to act on our own judgment? The meaning of death was a pretty popular topic in 20th Century English literature, and Wittgenstein had a lot to say about it too. He even claimed that the dead were, in some sense, still alive. So, too, that if you promised you were going to meet up with somebody, and then they died, you still had an obligation, not in a ritualistic, perfunctory way but in a genuinely obligatory kind of a way, to go to their grave and actually meet with them. But he also said that anyone currently alive was in the act of living forever, because “your life has no end in the same way as your field of vision has no limits,” even though your field of vision very demonstrably has limits and if you don't believe me turn around for a sec and then try to figure out where that sharp pain in the back of your head just came from, because he was trying to make a hard philosophical point using poetic phrasing because he was a pretentious twat and a stupid, arrogant cockhole.

There is one particular moment when I think all of these ethical issues really come to a head. I'm talking about the climax, when Homunculus has been defeated, the war is won, the world is safe, and now Edward is desperately trying to think of some way to get back Alphonse's body, which was, after all, the whole reason they set out on their journey. Al has already traded his ties to his armour so that Ed could get his arm back; the trick now to get Al's body back into this world, while keeping Ed's arm, of course. It's like that puzzle where you have two wolves and three hens and you're trying to row them all across a river without the wolves eating any of the hens. Because Ed is still bound by the rules of touka koukan, as discussed in the last post, he needs to proffer something in exchange for Al's body.

At this point, Ed's father comes forward and offers his own life. Surely any good father would take that deal. Al has his whole life ahead of him; Hohenheim has already lived for centuries. Plus, many of the events that occurred, and the two boys getting caught up in the action, are more or less Hohenheim's fault, so it makes sense that he should atone for his sins. I got chills when this happened. I thought, this is it, this is gonna be the wham moment. This is where Arakawa's gonna make us feel shitty about ourselves and then send us all off to rethink our lives. Hohenheim's gonna sacrifice his life for his son's, say something incredibly poignant as he fades away, and then epilogue.

Ed tells him to piss right off. “Why do you have to die for him?!” No matter what happens, he will not sacrifice one human being for another. To do so would be to use them as a means for an end. Regardless of the circumstances, there is no justification for that. He thinks and thinks until he finally comes up with something: He can trade his Door of Truth. Without it, he will lose the ability to perform alchemy entirely, but he will be able to bring back Al, body and all, from the otherworld. He draws up a human transmutation circle, claps his two fleshy hands together, and quickly finds himself sitting before God, who asks him if he's sure this is what he wants. He is, which amuses God to no end. “You've beaten me,” he says gleefully. And he has. He's managed to get back everything except his leg, and all without losing either his moral principles or anyone's life.


That about sums up my philosophical ponderings on this series. So if you're sick by now of hearing what I think, take heart, because to conclude this series we're going to look at interpretations by a few other people elsewhere on the Internet.

Thursday, 2 January 2014

Philosophy of Fullmetal Alchemist, Part 1

At Jugs's urging, I've finally gotten around to watching the 2009 version of the Fullmetal Alchemist anime, known in English as Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. I'm pretty sure no one will be surprised to hear that I found it to be far superior to the first crack at animating the series, from 2003. Though that's not to say I didn't enjoy that version; I loved it. Some of the episodes are actually paced better than their 2009 counterparts, the atmosphere is appropriately dark, and I thought it was incredibly clever what they did with the Homunculi (ie that they were – highlight for 2003 spoilers –  the results of attempted resurrections, e.g. Tricia became Sloth and Izumi Curtis's son became Pride). It's only that the new one surpasses even those lofty standards. But both are great, featuring a rich setting, an interesting story, and characters who are varying degrees of stylish, sympathetic, impressive, and fascinating.

Of course, the new version does benefit from contemporary technology. The fluid animation and colourful visuals make the action scenes engaging, whether the combatants are duelling with swords, guns, or alchemy, and, thanks to skillful camera work, we always have a good idea of their surroundings and positions relative to each other. The setting and certain story elements reminded me of Chrno Crusade, so I gave an episode of that a watch, and boooooy had I forgotten how bad the action was in that show. The typical formula there is to flash a close-up shot of a good guy firing their weapon, then cut to the bullets rebounding off the monster of the week. It's completely bland and devoid of tension. Gun battles in Hagaren do this sometimes too, but in Hagaren we always know where everybody is, people die frequently and in dramatic fashion, and attacks feel more destructive, making the proceedings seem dangerous and chaotic.

All of that action, however, is not to no purpose. The Matrix has a brilliant synergy between thought and action, and, standing amongst brainless thrillers, was the first work to show me that the Action genre could be smart, if it wanted to. Hagaren was quite possibly the second. Since I'm theoretically a Philosophy Major, I'm inclined to look at everything I see in terms of that academic background, much as a physicist will look at everything in terms of certain scientific principles, or a skateboarder will see the world in terms of obstacles and “spots.” This series provides plenty of philosophical material.

Don't get me wrong, Hagaren isn't nearly the most philosophically weighty series I've ever consumed, and you'll typically get laughed out of the thread if you bring it up in any “philosophical anime” discussion. But if you're interested in looking a little deeper at some of the stuff that's raised, here is a brief analysis of what I have identified as the three main themes. There are others, of course, like humanity, community, the cost of ambition, and the meaning of family, but I believe these three to be the most major.

Obviously, this post will contain spoilers.

Tertiary theme: Faith

If anything, Arakawa, or at least this work, seems to take a dim view of religion, especially Renaissance-era Christianity. The only major institution we see is the Cult of Leto, which the Elric Brothers quickly expose as a sham, a play by one power-hungry priest to gain deeper loyalty and deeper coffers. What's interesting to me is that this is one of the few cases where a fictional atheist actually has some intellectual elbow room. In this setting, as in the real world, the existence or non-existence of God is still very much up for debate. This is in stark contrast, to, say, Final Fantasy X, in which the necessity of sending recently departed souls to the afterlife via particular rites is an observable fact. Believing otherwise would be willful ignorance. This is what TV Tropes calls a “Flat Earth Atheist,” someone like Kaiba Seto, who stubbornly refuses to believe in magic despite regularly seeing it performed in front of him. But in the world of Hagaren, Ed's atheism is entirely justified.

What's stranger is what happens when Homunculus actually comes face-to-face with the being who claims to be God, ruler of the heavens and the earth, after hundreds of years of vying to gain His favour. Rather than praising his loyalty and ambition, the mighty spirit actually chastises him for blindly relying on a higher power, rather than looking towards himself for motivation and agency. The message here seems to be to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, rather than holding out for a saviour. This is reflected in the main action of the story, as the brothers make all their major advances through hard work, intelligence, talent, smart timing, and, quite often, hours spent poring over dozens of books and documents. They do occasionally get a little help from their friends, but remember that they only gained those relationships from actively working to expand their network of contacts. And sometimes they hit a stroke of luck, but those only come about from consistently pursuing as many angles as possible, in the hopes that at least one of them will work out.

That said, I'm not completely sure what to make of “God,” the grinning white imp who sits in front of the Door of Truth and purveys knowledge but applies a personalized punishment for having wanted it. We have no real way of confirming whether this really is God or just some lesser spirit making claims of grandeur, or if God even exists in this universe, but let's take Him at his word and assume for a moment that He really is “the” God. In his own words: “I am what you call 'the World,' or 'God,' or 'the Truth,' or 'All,' or 'One.'” Those last two (全と一、zen to ichi) echo the arc in which Edward and Alphonse, as children studying under their teacher Izumi Curtis, come to understand the laws of the natural world, and thus alchemy. The entire universe, it turns out, is made up of an unbroken “flow,” so that all is one, which is why the circle is the basis of all transmutations; this is later confirmed by Mei Shan, who says that Xing's version of alchemy draws from a power source that they imagine as a river flowing to the tops of the mountains, through the air and back into the earth.

This “zen to ichi” concept closely resembles Tillich's conception of God. In his view, trying to imagine God as a being –  even if He is the greatest, most glorious of all beings in existence – is the wrong way of trying to understand Him. He is not a particular force, acting in a particular way, in a particular series of places, at a particular time (God is timeless, not in the sense of temporal infinity but in that He is outside of time entirely). Rather, God is everywhere, manifested in everything, constantly, because He is not particular but universal. Conceiving of him as merely our unknowable Father in Heaven is akin to putting a hard barrier between you two, which makes no sense as he is “closer to you than you are to yourself.” He is not a “being among beings” but the “Ground of All Beings.” You see this way of thinking every time somebody equates God with “the Universe” or a similar concept.

Sin is another topic that comes up periodically, and one which is, naturally, rather religious in nature, as without a higher arbiter of some sort or another there can be immorality (arguably), but not sin as such. The main sin we see humans committing is hubris, saliently in thinking that they can defy the laws of nature and create life. Edward explicitly refers to their resurrection attempt as a “sin” several times. In return for trying to gain this knowledge, alchemists have something taken from them, which can only be reclaimed if they manage to find something else to pay for it; Hohenheim tells Izumi he cannot restore her lost organs specifically because her having lost them was a mark of her punishment from God. We eventually learn that He takes whatever seems the most suitable for their arrogance: Edward, with his unswerving principles, lost the ability to stand upright; Izumi, who wanted her dead son back, lost the ability to ever have another; Roy Mustang, with his eyes on the Fuhrer's chair and the future of Amestris, lost his sight. (Notably, while Edward does recover his fleshy arm, which he paid in order to affix Alphonse's soul to a suit of armour, he never does get back his leg, which was the original toll incurred for attempting the resurrection.) Everyone who makes this mistake seems to take the lesson to heart, warning others against following the same path, and Edward even says that he and Alphonse will never again try to resurrect their mother, and are only on a quest to regain what they lost in the attempt.

This would seem to suggest that of all the Seven Deadly Sins, Pride is the “worst.” Indeed, this is not only the first sin that Homunculus dispels from his body, but also the one that most closely resembles his own true form, as one character points out to us. But Hohenheim makes an interesting point when he says that these seven destructive desires (Pride, Envy, Greed, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, and Wrath) are an integral part of what makes us human, or as he puts it, “essential to understanding humans,” which is basically the same thing.

Totally unrelated note, this reminds me of the movie Serenity (the conclusion to the TV show Firefly), where there's an assassin going around murdering people, as assassins are wont to do, I guess, and he must be a Godfearing kind of a guy because right before he murders someone, he always asks them, “Do you know what your sin is?” and then, since it would be a bit of a dick move to ask a question like that and then leave them hanging, he tells them. Except when he asks Mal, Mal says “Ah, hell, I'm a fan of all seven. But right now...I'm gonna have to go with Wrath,” and kicks his ass.

What's your sin? I'm, yeah, pretty sure mine is Lust.

Secondary theme: Equivalent exchange

I think Alphonse summed up the concept beautifully in the OP of the 2003 version of the anime. I can still recite it from memory four years after watching:

人は何も犠牲無しに何も得る事は出来ない。
何かを得る為には、同等の代価が必要になる。
これが錬金術における「等価交換」の原則だ。
その頃僕らは、それが世界の真実だと信じていた。

Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return.
To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.
This is alchemy's first law, of “equivalent exchange.”
In those days, we really believed this to be the world's one, and only, truth.

Amazing. I heard those words on YTV late one night and I was hooked. Those four lines tell us everything we need to know about the show's direction and what we're about to watch. That goes double for the 2003 version, which downplays the next theme I'm going to discuss in favour of this one.

This principle, of course, is clearly meted out through the events of Hagaren. Alchemists cannot create things, they can only transform. Edward is able to make Lin a sword from a giant pool of blood by drawing together a bunch of iron. When he repairs Alphonse's armour, the metal becomes a little bit thinner each time. The very reason Kimblee is so dangerous and feared is that he can create a bomb from whatever substances he has around. When alchemists transmute part of the ground or a wall, a depression appears in the surface near whatever they shaped, showing that the matter was drawn into it. And the primary drama of the 2003 series is trying to figure out the nature of a human soul (the answer is much clearer in the new one), since the necessary materials to manufacture a human body can be purchased “on a child's allowance,” but even with all of them present and in their proper amounts, something is still missing.

One more example to hammer this home. In an early episode, glossed over in the 2009 version, the brothers travel to Youswell, a coal-mining town, as inspectors. Like as mystery shoppers, or the entire plot of that one stage play. The townspeople are distrustful of Edward as a “Dog of the Military,” despite the fact that State Alchemists are sworn to serve the public trust, protect the innocent, and uphold the law. The brothers quickly discover that the military guy running the town, Yoki, is a far harsher regent than HQ imagines. Edward convinces Yoki to sell him the town for a massive sum of gold, but since transmuting gold is a felony, they agree to officially have him sign the deed over for nothing. Yoki is well pleased but the next morning realises he's been had, as the gold has returned to its original worthless state. He demands that Edward pay him, only to be reminded that he gave the town away for free.

Edward then mischievously waves the deed in front of the townspeople, telling them that he's going to extract a heavy fee for their freedom. His price? A night's room and board at the local inn, that is, practically nothing. Everyone is stunned but quickly moved to rejoicing at his heroism. Ed might as well have handed the deed directly over to them for free, considering what he charged for it, but he states that by not doing so, he is satisfying the law of equivalent exchange. Perhaps he believes that had he not at least asked for something, a price would have ended up being extracted by some other subtle means, and been far higher. Either way, this is an early demonstration of how important the concept of touka koukan is going to be.

And if you think about it, it makes sense. Alchemy doesn't exist in our world, but equivalent exchange certainly does. If you, like me, are weak in scientific knowledge, do you at least remember doing scientific equations in high school? You started with a set of chemicals, charted its reaction with another set of chemicals, and ended up with something new. Here:

Here's the thing, though. No matter what, you have to end up with all the same stuff you started with. They'll probably be in a different form, maybe with an -ide or an -ate on the end of their names now, but they'll all still be there, and in the same numbers. That's equivalent exchange. Hell, we have this in physics, too. You drop a basketball on the ground, it'll start to bounce lower and lower because it's losing kinetic energy to heat. If you pick it up again and hold it perfectly still, it hasn't lost its energy; it's just that now it's potential energy instead of some other kind. Energy can never be created or destroyed, it can only change form. Same with matter. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

This even gets back to Part 1 of this analysis, as we see this concept in many world religions as well. If I understand it correctly, you could apply karma to the idea of touka koukan, as karma works off the “garbage in, garbage out” system. And the Biblical “eye for an eye” does seem to call for an equivalent exchange of sorts, if not quite in the way that Hagaren means it, as it suggests that destruction requires equivalent destruction in punishment, whereas Hagaren is saying that creating something requires the destruction of something else.

If that were where it ended, though, it would be an interesting curiosity but not philosophically valuable. But you can apply touka koukan to everything. If I want to buy a sandwich, I have to have the money to exchange for it. To get my hands on that money, I have to possess relevant skills that I am willing to hire out. To improve my Japanese, I must sacrifice a certain number of hours studying. If you want bigger muscles, a prettier face, or better grades, you “have to be willing to put the work in,” as, don't you worry, no shortage of people will leap to remind you. For that matter, if you even want to go three blocks down the road you have to make a choice between either spending a little extra time by walking, or paying in pollution, fuel (which itself is an exchange of fluid for locomotion), and the gradual degradation of rubber from the friction that pulls you forward against the road. Coins for Charon. Soul Shells to get to Battleship Island. If you want through the gate, you have to pay the toll. A day's work for a day's pay.


Of course I'm sure you can come back at me with all kinds of examples of people having things taken from them unjustly, or working endlessly for no discernible gain. And we all know somebody who everybody else hates because they've never had to work for anything (if you don't, it's you) and don't even realise it. In a way, though, doesn't that actually prove that the principle of touka koukan exists? If people get upset when it seems to be violated? And when things seem to cost more than they're worth, or someone receives disproportionate retribution? The world is harsh and unfair, and people regularly lose everything to random accident, but we feel that equivalent exchange should still govern our dealings with each other, if nothing else.

In the next post, I'll explain what I feel to be the most important theme of all.

Monday, 16 December 2013

Showbiz!

Stay in Japan long enough, and eventually you will be asked to appear on TV. It's practically a given. You might be approached at a festival, to be seen basking in the local culture, or perhaps cornered in the street and solicited for a reaction on some current event of which you have no knowledge; there are many paths to glory. There's just something newsworthy about a foreign face, regardless of how irrelevant the person may be to the actual topic at hand. Some have even managed to parley a handful of bit parts into moderately successful careers. I, unfortunately, did not.

(So far!)

But I did get the opportunity to dance like a twat. The director of the International Office sent out a mass e-mail letting us know that they'd been contacted by a television company in Oosaka, and did anybody want to appear on TV? An initial meeting was set for whoever wanted to go, and a couple of weeks later we met with two AD's in the dormitory lobby. Each was in his mid-20's, but were otherwise polar opposites; one was well-dressed, straight-laced, and clean-cut, while his partner, who seemed to be the more dominant of the two, arrived wearing a leather jacket, with several days' growth on his face, and spoke in a nonstop stream of inappropriate comments. They could have been in a buddy comedy. You could make a TV show about these guys making TV shows.

They each sat down in the tatami room and we went in for pre-interviews one-on-one, except for Anarchy in the UK and his little gang, who went in together. They refused my offer to interpret with an air of deep indignation, perhaps momentarily forgetting that none of them spoke Japanese. Whatever. Do whatever you want. 

As my own interview progressed, a theme quickly became apparent. These guys were clearly not looking for swooning and adulation. They didn't want to hear about what a wonderful country we'd stumbled upon and how orgasmic our everyday lives were. They asked questions like: What problems have you faced here? What negative stereotypes have you faced from Japanese people? What do you find the weirdest or most troubling about Japan? That, and a disturbing number of uncomfortably detailed questions about my previous relationships with Japanese girls. When I translated for a grateful Australzealand (who actually does speak Japanese somewhat passably), as soon as the guy found out she has a Japanese fiancee, he took that ball and raaaaan with it. All in all, I wasn't surprised.

If you are unfamiliar with the country, you might reasonably assume that we as foreigners were consulted in order to purvey a unique viewpoint, to share an outside perspective and thus cast our surroundings in a new light for those who had grown up with them. In this case you would be mistaken. If you're from Hate Japan, you will no doubt contend that its inhabitants have long since secretly acknowledged its backwardness and inferiority, and are desperately hoping to have their shortcomings revealed by a knowledgeable and benevolently dictatorial Westerner. In this case you need to open your eyes, and perhaps also never speak ever again. On the other hand, if you imagine that foreigners in the media are used primarily for comedy purposes and absurdity value, you are hitting a little closer to the truth.

With all this in mind, let us add one more wrinkle: They were trying to make a show. Smiles and happy days are all well and good but they don't make for good TV. They needed a little tension. Something to resolve, or at least reflect on. I didn't like it, but I understood, so I gave them some of my misgivings – I think most of it hinged on my being constantly “othered” by the Japanese, even those who know me. One quote that the inappropriate guy quite liked, and asked me to use for the recording, was a very energetic, wild-eyed, “I'm not weird because I'm foreign, I'm weird because I'm me!” (「変なのは外人じゃなくて俺や!」).  We got word soon after that we had been selected as one of four participating schools. Another couple of weeks later, the segments were decided upon.

*Australzealand would visit her fiancee's parents up in Aomori or wherever the hell it was, somewhere up north anyway.
*Anarchy in the UK had confessed he couldn't slurp noodles, so the Korean guy and the Spanish guy would teach him.
*Taiwan and the French girl would cosplay.
*Everyone would also do a talking segment.

Take a hard look at this list and tell me you can't figure out what's going on here. In one, we've got a Japanese guy marrying an older foreign woman. In another, we've got silly foreigners who can't comprehend our Japanese ways. And in the other, we've got hot young foreign girls dressing up. Good TV? You bet!

I was among those who made the final cut and would do the talking segment, at least, and on the day of shooting I came home after school to find the lobby now ensconced by solid temporary barriers, presumably for acoustic and lighting reasons. A crew of at least thirty PD's, AD's, set directors, costume designers, those people who stand around with clipboards looking busy while not appearing to do any actual work, and sound technicians buzzed around making final preparations. The rough AD from before caught sight of me and sent me to wait upstairs, where the Korean guy was already hanging out.

Correctly predicting that we would probably not start until at least ten or fifteen minutes after we were scheduled to, I suggested that we talk about something, anything, to warm up. He was remarkably indifferent to the whole process, but I wanted to make sure I got my Japanese up to speed, so that if I couldn't be eloquent I at least wouldn't go on television sounding shittier than I actually was. Eventually more of us floated in, and finally, they started calling us downstairs to have at it. I was first up.

AD: Ok, when I give you this signal, I want you to walk down the hallway, go in from the side, and you'll see...something there. So go up and you can start. Just answer the questions, and try to talk about the stuff we went over before. Wanting to be accepted by the Japanese, those things.
Rude Boy: I'm guessing the interviewer is going to lead me through it pretty well, anyway.
AD: That's right.
Rude Boy: Sounds good.
AD: You don't seem nervous.
Rude Boy: I've been on TV before in Canada.

After another five minutes or so, everything went deathly quiet. The AD gave me the signal, and, trying to pretend I was not surrounded by a massive crowd, I walked into the lobby, expecting to find somebody seated at one of the tables, and...was disappointed, as I seemed to have walked into an empty room. Then I noticed a big rokujizou set up against the far wall, so, trying not to appear overly confused, started to approagahhh there's a guy in there.

Oh geez, now he's talking to me.

He's awfully loud.

As I later learned, this old man was a fairly famous comedian from Oosaka, but as that's not a scene I am particularly given to follow I was not familiar with him. My friends oohed at his name, though. Anyway, harshly aware of the fact that I was holding on a conversation with an anthropomorphic rock, I gave one of the more embarrassing performances of my life, which is to say, I danced to AKB. While singing. Well, what could I do? We were discussing karaoke as a good way to break cultural barriers, he asked what I could sing, and I happened to know the dance. And I did it for a broadcast audience of 23 million.

I was also in my socks, and so slipped and fell after like five seconds. The clean-cut AD laughed audibly.

In actual fact, this entire venture was scripted, a result of me and the AD discussing different gimmicks I could bust out. The conversation didn't go exactly as planned, but I tried to weave my most important talking points in. There was a slight problem in that he used the funny voice popular with that brand of Oosaka comics, making it hard for me to understand him, and his ears were covered by his helmet, making it hard for him to understand me. We managed to work all my major points in, though. Of course there was no way to know, in the moment, whether it was going to be funny or not. There is the problem of not being able to see how it will look once edited, but there was also the fact that everybody else in the room was doing their best to remain absolutely silent, so I had no feedback. The rough AD assured with me a laugh that it had been funny, though. I certainly hoped so. I do have my pride and dignity but I'd far, far rather be ridiculous than boring.

Everybody gathered in that same lobby when the time came to watch the broadcast, but I was a little too embarrassed, so I did something else. Which turned out to be just as well, because the planned forty-minute full episode had been cannibalized into a series of ten-minute segments. The first was the main one, however. And yet nearly all of it had been cut. “But I got on,” Anarchy in the UK assured us without irony, as though we would be genuinely relieved by this news, “so that's the important part.”

So can you guess which part ended up being the focus of the programme? Come on, guess.

It was Taiwan and the French girl's cosplay thing. Of course it was. They dressed them in junior high school uniforms. You can't not use that. Over the course of the next few weeks they re-aired those parts along with chopped-up versions of the others.


Did I ever appear? I have no idea. But none of my friends mentioned seeing me, so perhaps not.

Tuesday, 3 December 2013

Things I missed

I imagine I've made it pretty clear that not only would I rather be in Japan right now, I'd rather have never left. In fact I hardly ever shut up about it, on this blog or anywhere else. But there's nothing to be gained from idle negativity, so as long as I'm here, I might as well avail myself of the Canadian experience. Here are a few things I missed while I was in Japan and am now enjoying again, in no particular order. Well, they are in a particular order. They're in the order I thought of them. It's just that the order is meaningless.

Jugs

Living abroad ain't what it used to be. Nowadays Facebook and Skype effortlessly keep us connected with the people we love. Before my time, it was a more trying affair. Ten years ago, there was the less dynamic but still reliable method of e-mail, although you had to be sitting at an actual computer in order to use it. Prior to that it was all expensive long-distance phone calls, snail mail, and desperate hopes. Go back far enough and moving to another country was a months-long journey that you might not even survive, and undertaking it meant you'd never see your friends and family ever again.

Really, I'm grateful that I was able to chat with Jugs on an almost daily basis through the Miracle of the Internet, but now I get to see her face-to-face at least weekly. I've met great people in Japan, both Japanese and non-Japanese, and I hope that never ends, but Jugs and I, and my other Canadian friends, have a long history, and we know each other back to front, and that's hard to beat. She's interested in Japan, too, so I hope to one day show her a bit of it.

Tim Horton's

Have you ever tried Tim Horton's hot chocolate? According to my page statistics, if you're reading this blog you're most likely American, so probably not, in which case you're missing out. Actually I hear there's Tim Horton'ses in like Vermont now or something, so maybe some enterprising businessperson will open a franchise in Oosaka. They also make good sandwiches. Speaking of which...

Subway

Japanese Subway is good, but it just doesn't measure up to what they've got over here, where the bread is softer and has more options, the pricing model isn't idiotic, and they have bottomless fountain drinks. And the subs are just tastier.

Real cheese

Oh my God, have you tried to buy cheese in Japan? Again, statistically, you haven't. Well it's not fun. Because there isn't any. At least none that's good. You might be able to find something at an organic grocer or a co-op but that's always a pain and what you can find still isn't that great. I guess I shouldn't be surprised though, cheese doesn't exactly figure heavily into Japanese cuisine, and me complaining about it is like a Japanese person complaining about the difficulty of finding decent seaweed in Canada. Though come to think of it, that is a very legitimate complaint. Ah, but now we're getting into a totally different post.

Christmas

This one startled me. I mean there were things I anticipated missing (Jugs), and things I didn't (cheese), but I outright hate the Christmas season and the way it's shoved down our throats for two months straight. I'm just grateful that Halloween is a thing because it forms a hard barrier against the increasingly early starting gun, but even that is starting to crumble. In the future, the entire year will be Christmas season, and that will be a glorious time because it will have finally lost all meaning and we can all stop caring about it. It's such a saccharine, stupid holiday anyway. Not the birth of Christ, that part's cool and all. But all this stupidity about “the true meaning of Christmas” and “come on, it's Christmas” and all of that can go straight to hell. Guh.

As I mentioned around this time last year, though, I kind of ended up forlorn at the complete lack of Christmas cheer in Kyouto. Setting aside that it's a completely different holiday in Japan (couples rather than families), there was just nothing. A few lights and stuff, yeah, but no music, no real sense of anticipation, no atmosphere whatsoever. Yet oddly, though I was happy to be free of it, I was sad for its absence. That whole block ended up feeling so empty, even though it was quite as exciting as any other month in Japan, just because I was used to expecting something extra. Also, for some weird reason I have a strange fondness for bad Christmas movies, so lately I've been getting my fill of those on TV.

All of that said, with December now underway I have little doubt that my seething rage will soon reassert itself.

Snow

Of course this is integral for a good Christmas atmosphere, but snow is also great just on its own terms. You can roll around in the snow and make snow angels, or roll snow around in other snow and make snowmen, or go around smashing other people's snowmen, or construct complex snow forts from which to wage snowball fights and then get pissed off when you start losing and start facewashing everybody and dumping snow down their backs and so on. Those are rites of passage for every young Canadian. Good luck doing any of that south of Hokkaidou, though. A couple centimetres may accumulate overnight, but the ensuing sun will melt it all within hours.

News

Sure, you can seek stuff out on the Internet and stay informed about what's going on wherever you came from. Thing is, I get all my news passively, by listening to the people around me. This is also generally how I find out about assignment due dates and impending exams so it is quite a useful skill. Still, having little to no idea what was going on over in Canada made me feel disconcertingly disconnected, despite the fact that I had no desire to even be connected.

Paper towels

Japanese public bathrooms often don't have anything to dry your hands with. Weird, eh?

Skateboarders

Ok, this is actually just one I remembered from my high school days, which of course is when skateboarders were an everyday sight because the hardcore kids skateboarded around during every moment, and then years later the best of them all got sponsorships and appeared in movies and made all their parents and teachers feel awfully stupid. Skate culture is very different in Japan; although you have a few who might try to emulate the Western style, those are mainly the people who are already on the fringes of polite society anyway. Instead it's a more “legitimate” kind of thing, with most of the action occurring in large indoor skate parks rather than the streets. This affects the image of skateboarding and skaters themselves, so there's not quite the same view of skaters as rebels. Consequently, there aren't so many rebels who are inspired to take up skateboarding, which then means that skateboarding doesn't take on the same rebellious overtones, and you see how this starts to loop. I don't know if that's a good thing or not (my inner child screams conformity but my inner corporate drone shrugs legitimacy), but it was always nice to just be walking down the sidewalk and spot some kid kickflipping over a cinder block.

Poutine

For the Canadian impaired, poutine is a Quebecois dish of French fries buried in a mountain of gravy and cheese curds. For some reason, it hasn't caught on in Japan yet.

Peanut butter cups

You can find almost any American candy bar in Japan, but not Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, my favourite. Why that should be, I have no idea. Maybe peanut butter is still a bit of a foreign concept to the Japanese? That wouldn't surprise me. It is a strange idea if you think about it.

Driving

I love driving. Loooooove driving. Top five favourite things to do, easy. I read about driving. I daydream in class about driving. I play video games that involve driving. I research techniques for driving. First time I got behind the wheel of a car I was like aw yeah this feels so riiiiight. I really don't know how I went without for a year. Fortunately next time I should not be under any constraints as to operating motor vehicles – which the university condescendingly claimed was for “safety” but which was obviously actually about their insurance – so I should be good to go as long as I pass the road test. Oh, I'll blog about it. Never fear.

Things being easy

This, then, is the one that ties everything else together. To be honest, I didn't even notice that this was something I missed until I was back in Canada, because everything I did having some extra layer of complication had just become my normal. Ordering at a restaurant? Better get a headstart on perusing the menu, and possibly ask what some stuff is. Filling out a simple document? We're gonna need somebody to look it over for mistakes and also maybe read it to us. Need to ask directions because we're lost? Well, are we sure we're lost? If we keep going this way just a couple more blocks do you think we might figure it out? Ok, well should we ask that guy over there? Let's ask that—ok, well, he obviously was in a rush, what about this grandmother? Oh God, what dialect is that? But it is Japanese, right? How can we end this conversation as quickly as possible? If we just thank her and walk away will she stop? How far do we have to go to keep her from realising we don't know what she said?


In Canada, everything is so damn simple. I can skim whole pages at a glance, out of the corner of my eye, from across the room. I already have a mental map detailing the location of every shop, landmark and shortcut I could ever need. In any given group I'm usually the strongest speaker of the lingua franca, not the weakest – unless, that is, I'm with my Japanese friends, in which case I'm still the most knowledgeable and am to be relied on for interpretation. But most significantly, things just make sense in a way that they don't quite do in Japan. They're set up according to a system of heuristics and algorithms I was raised on, to the point that I can navigate my day-to-day affairs mostly on reflex. An easy life isn't necessarily a good life or even a happy one, but for the moment, it's one in which I'm willing to indulge.