Self-Erasure and Existence in Serial Experiments Lain and Metropolis

The two films that I shall be exploring in this paper are Ryutaro Nakamura's Serial Experiments Lain and Rintaro's Metropolis. Lain follows the story of a young girl named Lain who is in junior high and starts experiencing increasingly strange events. She meets "alter egos" of herself, and as she becomes more and more enmeshed in the world of the Wired, which is an imitation of the Internet, she starts questioning her own identity and existence. As people start dying around her, she attempts to find out who is behind these events, while at the same time the boundaries between reality and the Wired are falling apart. In her search, she meets the 'God' of the Wired, who, as it is later revealed, tries to convince people to give up their physical bodies and so transcend their earthly lives to exist in the Wired. After Lain destroys the God in a final confrontation, she is able to reverse the strange events that have been happening since the start of the series in a sort of "All Reset." By erasing memories of herself from everyone else's memories, she ceases to exist to them and to herself.

Metropolis on the other hand is set in the future, where robots are constantly present as servants, or more precisely slaves, of humans, and are kept strictly in their place. Tima, created as a super-robot for the purpose of sitting upon the throne of the Ziggurat,[1] meets Kenichi, the nephew of the detective from Japan who was sent to capture the mad scientist that had created Tima. Rock, Duke Red's[2] sort-of-adoptive son and leader of the Malduks,[3] attempts to kill Tima out of both jealousy for his semi-affectionate regard for her[4] and prejudice against robots.[5] Nonetheless, Tima is able to escape his attempts with the help of Kenichi, though Tima eventually ends up in the Duke's grasp. In the final scenes, Tima loses her memories as her "robotic side" takes over, and seemingly fulfills her purpose by sitting upon the Ziggurat. However, she proclaims an apocalypse to punish the humans for their mistreatment of the robots. Kenichi is able to pull her from the throne and save her from completely merging with the throne. Seeming to have lost her memories, Tima attacks Kenichi. As the city crumbles around them, Tima regains her memories towards the end of the anime and unfortunately falls to her death from the great height of the Ziggurat to the ground below. Metropolis ends with Kenichi deciding to stay in Metropolis rather than go home with his uncle in the hopes of helping to rebuild Metropolis and create a better future, where presumably humans and robots can coexist.

Serial Experiments Lain and Metropolis are both very different, in subject matter as well as style. However, I feel that the importance of memory with identity and self present in both works are of interest, and I would like to explore the characters of Tima and Lain in particular. I intend to explore the concept of self or subjectivity and what that means when that self is erased in the figures of Tima and Lain. I claim that, despite their self-erasure, there exists identity within that erasure, rather than a lack of a self. Their self-erasure results in questions of identity and existence for these characters, and I shall attempt to prove that a new self is created, allowing for existence within erasure. Defining subjectivity in Lain and Tima however is problematic, given that one is possibly a computer program and the other a robot, therefore I believe that it is necessary to first define the self that is being erased.

In Lain, the series leaves the question of whether Lain is a computer program or not unanswered. One theory, according to The God of the Wired, is that Lain is a computer program, designed to break down the barriers between reality and the Wired, and that her physical body is one that he has given her. This theory would allow us to reconcile her apparent agelessness in the last episode.[6] The other theory would be that she has given up her body to "live on" in the Wired. Although this question cannot be definitely resolved, nonetheless in either case Lain has a self, the real-world self, one that exists or existed in what the anime presents as the real world. At this point I would like to mention that there are three Lains, her "alter egos", that make up Lain but cause problems in defining who Lain really is. This is a question that Lain, the real-world Lain, struggles with, as she is unable to connect who she thinks she is and what she knows and experiences as her existence, with the actions and character of Wired Lain that she only hears about through a second-hand source.


(Figure 1)

This image, taken from the artbook for Lain, is an attempt by the artists to differentiate between the three Lains. Their names are written differently[7] and as the image shows, there are certain expressions, postures, as well as speech characteristics unique to each Lain.

While these Lains present another problem in defining Lain's selfhood, the point is moot when in the end all of Lain is erased. However, although the different Lains are distinct, there is a merging of the Lains, at least of Wired & real-world Lain, that is shown by contrasting the behavior of Lain in episode two, "Girls", and episode seven, "Society". In "Girls", she has just received her Navi, which is basically a computer, but she is still shy and withdrawn, "unconnected".[8] Some of her classmates take her along to a club called Cyberia, but she does not know how to dress for the occasion and has clearly not been to a club before, a fact that a couple of them tease her about: "You're usually in bed now, aren't you, Lain?" says one, followed by, "Lain, don't you have anything better to wear at night?" This is also the first instance in which we hear about Wired Lain. As the anime progresses, real-world Lain seems to be incorporating Wired Lain, showing a merging as she becomes more confident and dresses a little differently. This merging culminates in "Society" in which there is a scene where Wired Lain sort of "takes over" real-world Lain's body.[9] The immediate contrast between real-world Lain and Wired Lain is shown clearly, as well as the struggle with identity that Lain faces.

During the series she increasingly questions who she is, and tries to reconcile her own memories, experiences, and who she thinks she is with her alter-egos. The climax of this struggle is shown in episode eight, "Rumors", in which all three Lains make an appearance following a certain rumor about Alice that Lain apparently spread on the Wired.[10] In these scenes, real-world Lain is shown buried under wires and cables, crying and helpless, while Wired Lain confronts Lain of the Rumor. "Who are you? You're not me. I'd never do what you do," Wired Lain says to her, as Rumor Lain laughs continuously. "Stop it! Why are you acting like the part of me that I hate? You--" With Wired Lain's hands wrapped around her throat, Rumor Lain laughingly cuts her off saying, "I'm committing suicide!" and continues, greatly amused, "Hey, I'm Lain, aren't I?" Both Wired and real-world Lain emphatically deny this, however that is not to say Rumor Lain is not a part of Lain.

This struggle in identity is resolved in a way in the end, though rather bittersweetly when Lain must erase memories of herself, and therefore her existence, from other's memories. "When you don't remember something, it never happened... If you aren't remembered, you never existed,"[11] says Alice, repeating Lain's words. Without the recognition of others, Lain ceases to exist in the real world. The disconnect in identities that Lain experiences is addressed by Scott Bukatman in Terminal Identity: the virtual subject in postmodern identity, in which he says,

The newly proliferating electronic technologies of the Information Age are invisible, circulating outside of the human experiences of space and time. That invisibility makes them less susceptible to representation and thus comprehension at the same time as the technological contours of existence become more difficult to ignore...There has arisen a cultural crisis of visibility and control over a new electronically defined reality. It has become increasingly difficult to separate the human from the technological...as electronic technology seems to rise, unbidden, to pose a set of crucial ontological questions regarding the status and power of the human...the Information Age, an era in which, as Jean Baudrillard observed, the subject has become a "terminal of multiple networks." This new subjectivity is at the center of Terminal Identity. (Bukatman 2)

Bukatman argues against the idea that cyberspace is a null space, and instead is a narrative space, a site of action and circulation that sets up for a new identity. This new identity is termed "Terminal identity: an unmistakably doubled articulation in which we find both the end of the subject and a new subjectivity constructed at the computer station or television screen" (9). It is this terminal identity that is created in Lain's self-erasure. I also argue that it is this terminal identity that is created, and exists, within the Wired that is more wholly Lain, and where she is able to resolve her struggle in identity, or at the very least comes to terms with her self-erasure and ceasing to exist. In the real world, the life that Lain leads is monotonous, and the world that she lives in is routine and life-less. As Susan Napier notes, "Increasingly in Japanese culture, the real has become something to be played with, questioned, and ultimately mistrusted" (421). She goes on to analyze Lain in its ability to portray the "fundamental concerns at the turn of the twenty-first century, most notably our sense of a disconnect between body and subjectivity thanks to the omnipresent power of electronic media" (Napier 431), and calls Lain a representation of the world of the Wired/Internet where reality and truth are constantly questioned (431).


(Figure 2: The same series of montages (like the one shown above) are shown in the beginning of every episode.)


(Figure 3: The above images are, left to right, from episode 1 and episode 2.)

Repetitive scenes and montages like the above screenshots signal Lain's life as lacking in some way. She is not completely free to be who she is as her different personas are segregated and it is not until the end with her self-erasure that she exists wholly in the Wired. In a way then, the cyber world has surpassed the real world.

Bukatman also mentions that vision is a "means for being absent from [oneself]", according to Merleau-Ponty, and allows through simultaneous projection and introjection the presence of self. Vision itself "is not a mode of thought or presence of self", but it allows for it (Bukatman 136). Despite Lain's self-erasure, she is able to appear in the real world and visit a grown-up Alice, who is able to see her and acknowledges her presence, though she does not remember who she is, only that Lain looks familiar. Evidence of traces of Lain that are left behind, in that sort of déjà-vu moment, are encouraging and allow for an affirmation of self for Lain according to Bukatman.

While Lain presented questions of identity in a human figure, the figure of Tima in Metropolis is presented from the start as robot. Despite this, she is made human from the very start of her existence; it is from her "birth" [12], where her first encounter with another being is Kenichi, that she starts her existence as human. I shall argue that Tima has essentially two identities: the human Tima given to her by Kenichi, and the robot Tima that is her design, what she is made for and to be. I find the character of Tima interesting in her divide between human and robot. She is made in completely artificial ways, with completely artificial organs and body parts,[13] yet, she claims, or at least wants, to be human and that she has human emotions, can love like a human and therefore she is not a robot.[14] Her attempt to reconcile her robot and human self is an interesting struggle that ultimately ends in tragedy; however, the question I ask then is whether Tima has created subjectivity for herself between the two given identities, when her human self is erased along with her memories in the final scene[15]. First however, I shall examine her claims of humanity.

Since her "birth" into the world, her focus has been Kenichi. He is her first contact with another being, and so she sort of "imprints" upon him, and follows him around, imitating him. Their first dialogue is evident of this. Kenichi attempts to find out who Tima is, and after a few attempts in which Tima simply repeats what he says, he moves on. "Who are you?" Kenichi asks. "'I' am who?" Kenichi enunciates for Tima, and, interrupting him, Tima says, "You are I." "No, no, no...you call yourself 'I'," Kenichi corrects. "'I' am who?" Tima asks again, a question that she repeats at the end of her life. This repetition of the identity question, a question that continues to be unanswered through the end of the anime, suggests she has never found the answer, and perhaps, neither will we.


(Figure 4: Her conversation with Kenichi at the beginning of the film.)


(Figure 5: At the end of the film, when her body is broken and in pieces, all that's left of her is the ghost of her consciousness in the form of her recorded voice.)


(Figure 6)


(Figure 7)

Her preoccupation with Kenichi can be a little creepy, and shows that Kenichi is her world. She only cares about Kenichi, is constantly asking after him when she is separated from him and taken by Duke Red, and even the clothes she wears are picked by Kenichi, her appearance is shaped by Kenichi, and finally, he is the one that I would argue gives Tima her humanity.


(Figure 8: When she first meets Kenichi. He hands her his coat.)


(Figure 9: Kenichi gets her clothes)


(Figure 10: Tima seeks Kenichi's approval)

Duke Red also bestows an identity upon Tima, one that is an amalgam of robot and human. Tima is an imitation of his dead daughter, but also designed to be a deity, one meant to sit on the throne of the Ziggurat and rule the world. Despite her robotic body, Tima acts as a child would, and grows as a child would, albeit rapidly, and develops into something more adult-like as she learns to read and write, and is able to speak by herself outside of simple imitation. Undoubtedly she is still child-like through the end, but her development cannot be denied. In this development is a similarity to how humans develop. Tima might have been "born" physically developed into the world, but mentally she develops through the course of the movie as a human child would, placing her outside the category of her fellow robots into a limbo between robot and human. Her humanity, it can be said, is in her questioning of who she is.

However, two things complicate this assertion. One is the literal formation of Tima's identity by Kenichi. The words "You are I" that Tima says are innocent, but at the same time resonate with Tima's behavior and her obsession with Kenichi, and it is Kenichi that shapes her He is also the one to assert her humanity.[16] With the influence that Kenichi has over Tima, it is difficult then to see Tima as a separate entity, when so much of the "human" Tima is made up of Kenichi. The second complication is that although she might assert that she is human instead of robot, she succumbs to her design at the end of the film and sits upon the throne, becoming the "super-being" Duke Red has had her created to be. In the final scenes between Kenichi and Tima, she acts as robot, attacking Kenichi as if she does not know him, and treats him as a vengeful robot towards a human.


(Figure 11)

However, the divide between human and robot remains, made literal in the careful split of Tima's face, half robotic and half human. Despite her turning into the "super-being" she was created to be, she surpasses what Duke Red meant for her to be, in becoming judge and God, deeming humanity unfit to live beside robots. Her self-erasure comes as a wipe of memory, the loss of the Tima that is arguably "human" and recognizes Kenichi, and as destructive as her self-erasure is, Tima has created for herself a new self, one complicated by both her erasure of self and lack of control over what she is doing,[17] and her subversion of the Duke's designs for her. In the end however, the two sides of her, robot and human, seem to be presented as incompatible when, she asks, "Who am I?" looking up at Kenichi as he urges her to hold his hand, trying to pull her up and save her.


(Figure 12: It is her robot hand that he is gripping, and unable to reconcile her robot and human self, she is unable to grip his hand back and save herself.)

Even though Tima perishes in the end, her consciousness transcends her physical being[18] as Lain's does, shown in the way Tima's voice still lingers like a ghost in the radio. Her memory lives on, she is not forgotten and, she is the impetus to Kenichi staying in Metropolis, giving him a reason to try to build a better future where robots and humans can coexist.

In examining subjectivity in both Lain and Tima, I found Sharalyn Orbaugh's article, "Sex and the Single Cyborg" of interest, despite the fact that neither Lain nor Tima are cyborgs. Cyborgs as Orbaugh defines them are, "that embodied amalgam of the organic and the technological—confounds the modernist criteria for subjectivity” (436). She explains her particular interest in cyborgs because of the complication in subjectivity that they present, as part machine and part human. She also discusses the fear present with the figure of the cyborg, a fear of the overtaking of the individual subject by the machine, and the complete abandonment of the organic body to advance to the next level of evolution. In my reading of her article, there is an assumption in her arguments, which is that there is a problem of subjectivity in cyborgs because of the mix of organic and machine. She implies that the organic is necessary in order to consider subjectivity, and the machine encroaches/problematizes that subjectivity. She does say however that ,“Cyborgs, which are by definition not naturally occurring, serve in a new but equally significant way to mark the borders of modern(ist) subjectivity and simultaneously to reveal the ways those borders are breaking down and being redrawn in postmodern, posthuman paradigms” (439). While cyborgs do present a new sort of subjectivity, they still problematize subjectivity according to Orbaugh. However, I argue that it is not necessary to have a physical/organic body in order to have subjectivity, proven in the characters of Lain and Tima.

Regarding the problem of memory loss with Tima and Lain, Frederic Jameson in Postmodernism, or the Logic of Late Capitalism[19] seems to suggest a possible rethinking of self-erasure and the resulting loss of existence (16). In dealing with subjectivity, Jameson presents a loss-of-self view that at the same time still recognizes the existence of the feelings that make up the self, but are not connected to the self (Frederic 15). He proposes a different sort of existence, a "mere existence" that does not carry purpose, rather than a complete loss of existence. While this somewhat agrees with my idea that the consciousnesses of both Lain and Tima are still present post-self-erasure, I cannot agree with his assumption that the lack of feelings or apathy is what characterizes self or subjectivity, and consequently that there must be a presence of feelings in order to obtain subjectivity. Instead, I believe that apathy can characterize subjectivity just as well as what Jameson counts as "true" feelings.[20]

In constructing a self within self-erasure, the characters of Tima and Lain, despite the resistance to losing the self in Lain or the confusion of existence for Tima, nonetheless are able to create some sort of existence for themselves that transcend their physical bodies and are affirmed by the other characters in a way, regardless of deaths or loss of memory. I conclude that there cannot be a complete loss of existence then since this is the case, and despite the erasure of self, the erasure of existence, there can be a creation of existence within that erasure. While we are not robots nor do we have the ability to erase memories, the questions of identity Lain and Tima are subjected to allows us to rethink our own ideas of self and subjectivity, and how our existence is situated and defined, whether it's on the "Wired" or elsewhere.


NOTES

1. The only information given in the anime about the Ziggurat is that it is the pinnacle of human technology, and that whoever sits upon it will rule the world, though how this is and whether the public is aware of the Ziggurat's power and purpose is unknown. However, I find it curious that despite the celebrations of the completion of the Ziggurat the anime opens with, it seems that no one asks questions about it or what Duke Red plans on doing with it. In fact, for the majority of the anime the Ziggurat is out of the picture despite its capabilities.

2. The de facto leader of Metropolis in the sense that he is popular with the people and holds power and influence. Boone however is the President, who is later usurped and betrayed by his own military by Duke Red's hand

3. The Malduks are portrayed as Duke Red's personal military group led by Rock, though they also act as vigilantes in policing the robots.

4. Tima is made in the image of Duke Red's dead daughter.

5. Rock believes that it is Duke Red who should sit upon the Ziggurat, not Tima, a robot.

6. She appears to a grown-up Alice looking the same as when they went to school together, after she has wiped the memories of herself from everyone's memories.

7. From left to right: kanji (Chinese-based characters) for the real-world Lain, katakana (characters typically used to phonetically spell out foreign words or non-Japanese names) for Wired Lain, and English for Lain of the Rumor. I would like to note here that it is interesting the artists decided to use English instead of hiragana (phonetic characters used for Japanese words, but also to spell out kanji) for example (Japanese writing system consists of kanji, katakana and hiragana).

8. Here I refer to what Lain's father says in episode one, "Weird", to Lain after she asks him for a new Navi: "I keep telling you that you should use a better machine. You know, Lain, in this world, whether it's here in the real world or in the Wired, people connect to each other, and that's how societies function."

9. In an important plot development in which men from Tachibana Laboratories speak to her about the situation of reality and the Wired merging, Lain is asked questions about who she is, whether she knows her parents' birthdays, etc.--questions designed to make her question her own existence. Lain is unable to answer these questions and is visibly shaken, having a bit of a mental breakdown when suddenly Wired Lain takes over, and acts completely opposite, uncaring and unimpressed.

10. Alice, the person Lain is closest to, has a crush on a teacher, and Lain, or more specifically Lain of the Rumor, reveals this secret to everyone through the Wired.

11. Episode 13, "Ego".

12. Refers to the scene where the laboratory in which she is made is burning down after Rock sabotages it, and she stumbles out, naked and out into the world for the first time.

13. Refers to the scene between Duke Red and Dr. Laughton in which Red goes to Laughton's lab to check on his progress with Tima and asks if she was made with real organs. If Laughton is to be believed, and for the purpose of this paper I do as I see no reason he would lie (Being that constructing Tima itself is illegal, and he also follows with, "Real organs are quicker, but they don't last as long"), then Tima is completely artificial.

14. Refers to the conversation between Duke Red and Tima at the top of the Ziggurat, after the truth of her robotic body is revealed. While it might seem like Tima does not know that she is a robot, I argue that she does not accept her being a robot for the reasons stated.

15. Reacting to the call of the Ziggurat, her design/robotic self is "activated".

16. Tima does not assert her own humanity at the beginning; it is Kenichi that assumes she has simply lost her memories, and that she'll regain them soon, of her family and her name--details that make up a human's life and starts to construct for her her humanity.

17. She was built to sit on the Ziggurat and so it is not really by choice that she does so since the human Tima is gone at that point.

18. This brilliant observation/idea was kindly contributed by a fellow peer, and was a great help in moving past the pessimistic end of Tima to a new way of thinking about her death, for which I am very grateful.

19. Jameson presents postmodernism as a waning of affect, where the problems of modernism, that of alienation and anomie, are no longer applicable, arguing that there is no self to cut ties from, due to the depthlessness and fragmentation of self. There is no complete whole subject, which modernism assumes in its discussion of alienation from self, and instead offers two-dimensionality, a loss of a center, and rather than no affect, there are "free-floating and impersonal" feelings.

20. I use Michel Gondry's film "Interior Design" in which a young lady transforms into a chair in order to live her life the way she wants, and not necessarily conforming to people's expectations of her as well as what and how her dreams and ambitions should be realized. Here, the individual is still there, but perhaps not recognizable in the traditional sense.


BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bukatman, Scott. Terminal Identity: The Virtual Subject in Postmodern Science Fiction. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1993. Print.

Jameson, Fredric. Postmodernism, or, the Logic of Late Capitalism. (1990): 6-16. Print.

Napier, Susan J. “When the Machines Stop: Fantasy, Reality, and Terminal Identity in ‘Neon Genesis Evangelion’ and ‘Serial Experiments Lain’.” Science Fiction Studies 29.3 (2002): 418-435. Print.

Orbaugh, Sharalyn. “Sex and the Single Cyborg: Japanese Popular Culture Experiments in Subjectivity.” Science Fiction Studies 29.3 (2002): 436-452. Print.

"Interior Design" segment in Tokyo. Dir. Michel Gondry. Perf. Ayako Fujitani, Ryo Kase, Ayumi Ito, Nao Ohmori, and Satoshi Tsumabuki. 2008. Film.

Metropolis. Dir. Rintaro. Madhouse, 2001. Film.

Serial Experiments Lain. Dir. Ryutaro Nakamura. Triangle Staff, 1998. TV.

Mamoru Oshii’s Alternate Possibilities: Sky Crawlers and Patlabor 2

In Sky Crawlers, action and movement is restricted and regulated by corporate control. Yuichi is a fighter pilot for a corporate compound. His labor is a representation of the movement of corporate capital because he moves in flight patterns over the outskirts of towns dominated by corporate control. His movement is prevented from going beyond the area designated by his employer. The limited space Yuichi has to move in makes his agency and ability to move always dependent on the closed decisions of the corporation. As a result of this environment, the narrative portrays characters such as Yuichi and Ksunagi as incapable of conceptualizing their actions, movement, or ideas outside of their identification as the subjects of the corporation. Its almost as if their substance boils down to a corporate credo reading: “Created by and for the interests of the corporation”. In this way, even their labor is un-liberating because there is no possibility for realizing their agency in the closed logic of the film. What this means for their labor is that it is reduced into pure simulacrum and spectacle. Their capability of possessing an agency of resistance is limited by the constraints of the film.

Oshii lets time unfolds differently in Patlabor 2 like a linear narrative; actions are seen as either responses or reactions to previous historical events. The film is introduced with Tsuge, an officer of the Japanese Defense Forces, surviving a failed U.N. mission. Tsuge fails to receive an order in time from his superiors. He is in shock when his team dies as a result of this perceived failure. This sets in motion so called “terrorist” actions from the perspective of the State, but what serve as his active response to what has become in his point of view an ineffective global policing system. The film then refocuses to 2003, four years after the failed mission in Cambodia to Japan. Tsuge forms a “rebel” group that bombs a bridge, hacks defense networks, and sets a full-scale attack against Tokyo. His actions pinpoint weaknesses within Japan’s security structure .In addition, they incite State fear or even paranoia at the prospect of unrest or possible civil war. Tsuge’s actions expose the weaknesses of Japanese police, defense, and international relations. His actions compete against the state’s message that wishes to maintain a sense of peace and control. The film progresses by following two police officers Nagumo and Gotoh, who are sent to capture Tsuge with the aid of an intelligence officer named Arkanawa, using unilateral power to capture Tsuge and end the threat of “terrorism”. In the Patlabor 2, a general says Japan “does not exist in a vacuum”. His quote ties together different understandings of agency and movement within a local, national, and global context. At the global level, this represents Japan’s relationship to other “post war” nation states. At this level, action and movement are influenced by external powers such as the U.S., exposes’ Japan’s dependence on foreign nations. However, in a local context this dependence plays out in various ways, through Tsuge’s actions and the state’s response to his action. Tsuge’s actions are seen at the global level as “terrorism”. Yet, Tsuge sees his action as a way to disrupt local patterns of movement that state and global powers govern.

In Sky crawlers, time is less linear than a narrative and leaves you hanging in a vacuum of hyperreality: there is no general sequencing of events or plot progression. All growth or development occurs in the confines of a closed space. As a result, time acts according to corporate control. Characters such as Yuichi and Ksunagi define life as “meaningful” or “productive”. They self identify in corporate terms because they are “kildren” or pseudo humans bred by the corporation as adolescents, designed to live for brief periods. As a result they perceive time as either irrelevant or unimportant. It’s as if their lives amount to continuous labor cycles. Their proximity and awareness to time acts to heighten their feelings of alienation and dislocation. These feelings are the foundation of their desire to end their own lives, which amounts to breaking the ultimate rule of trying to defeat the “undefeatable” ace pilot. The Kildren’s continuous identity follows the same capitalist logic of destructive regeneration, each accumulating the crisis of their ahistorical existence.

Oshii’s lens into Sky crawlers functions to intensify the continuous time structure by slow pacing, repetition, and sparse dialogue. The sparcitity of verbal interaction indicates the lack of meaningful or significant social interactions. The lens follows kildren, like Yuichi at his unceremonious welcoming into the corporate compound .At the welcoming, he is received with an attitude of disinterest. Yuichi flies into the compound and to be briefly introduced to his mechanic, General Officer Kusanagi, and several other pilots. The film begins by grounding what he will be doing for the remaining cycle of is life. When he lands not a single onlooker appears seems interested in his arrival, instead he receives an apathetic reception that the viewer has no way to contextualize. He must find his own way while later Officer Ksunagi, herself a kildren, later, welcomes him tiredly into her dark office space that appears to contrast the natural sunlight which streams through a window. Yuichi questions Ksunagi about the status of the pilot he is replacing and asks whether she is a Kildren. At this point Ksuangi’s expression suddenly changes and she refuses to answer Yuichi’s questions. His cold dismissal suggests a nihilistic interpretation of his arrival, where the closed-ness of daily life on the compound is repeated in every social situation and exchange. Each day the pilots fly airplanes cut from contact for the most part with the “outside” world except for limited opportunities explained later. The film asks the viewer to accept the strange world of Sky crawlers as it is, closed off and without an understanding of history.

The kildren’s own understanding of their historical connection to reality can be interpreted by what Jameson refers to as a postmodern “psychological status” in his essay Postmodernism, or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. Because the Kildren have no clear recollection of the past and are unable to attach any significance to their present moment of being or their creation or description is similar to Jameson’s schizophrenic who “suffers a breakdown of the signifying chain” (6). The fact that the dialogues between characters do not divulge details or have personal histories to tell signifies their forced to interpret their own histories for themselves. Kildren depend on material markers such as matches, repetitive movement as proof of their own “historical residues.”[1]

History is a record or memory of previous experiences When a Kildren dies, they are reborn with only vague recollections of their previous life. Literally “killing children”, their continuous life for the corporation is without the aid of historical memory. Kildren feel confused and disoriented by their surroundings. Kildren only have limited evidence of their previous lives. The film creates a sense of déjà-vu by concentrating on small details and moments of memory; the return to the same dinner, fold of a newspaper, a match thrown on the ground. These material objects function as memory devices in their repetitive and minute details offering clues without direct answers. Focusing on these moments also the viewer to interpret what objects such as a cigarette, meat pie, newspaper, or a match means to the kildren enforcing the idea that their understanding consists of by routine, control, and repetitive order (ref to images 1,2,3 below). The repetition of actions coincides with the military conflicts occurring continually in the film without a sense of purpose, reason, or an end. Only a female pilot Mitsuya summons the nerve to tell Yuichi that he is a reincarnation of Jinroh, brought back to life because of a unique “skill set”. Mitsuya is also the first person to tell Yuichi that he is indeed the reincarnation of Jinroh and that the other kildren were only “pretending” they did not know. The lifeline of a Kildren is set only to determine the needs of the corporation, replacing his sense of self for a “unique skill set”.


(Figure 1)


(Figure 2)


(Figure 3)

This lack of historical connection may also explain internal conflicts and provide a reason for their inability to form individual or collective political consciousness. Ace pilot Mitsuya suffers from this type of ahistorical crisis and cries “Why? When? And how in the world did I end up like this?” She further explains that her lack of historical understanding makes her feel as if she is “floating further and further away from reality”, rooted in intense malaise for everyday life. Jameson refers to a similar type of stress and refers to it as “wanning of affect” where a loss or lack of connection to historical purpose forces them to interpret their lives differently. Like Yuichi, Mitsuya tries to establish some frame of reference by asking the pilots, “How many flight hours have you logged? or “How many years have you been working as a pilot?”. Mitsuya is also validates Yuichi’s own feelings of confusion and disorientation when she asks “ How do you reconcile the memories with your life if it is just an endless repetition of the present? “. Although Mitsuya is the only character to express these feeling of uneasiness, there is an implication that Ksuanagi’s desire commit suicide stems from a similar “wanning of affect” her chain of signifiers is unreliable she feels “no past and no future”.

Kusanagi describes the kildren as part of a game that involves “fighting a never ending war”. By referring to “war” as a “game” Ksuanagi is also saying that their violent actions are for the interests of capital. Kusanagi understands the conditions she and her co-pilots work in and does not see an alternative to their state of detached violence. She interprets “”fighting” as a critical element of human society” but she herself is not a human or historical being. Her explanation is vague and does not justify violence. Kusanagi’s own intense feelings of hopelessness drive her towards an existential and psychological crisis. She considers suicide and assisted suicide as the only means to escape her condition, exhibiting self-destructive tendencies in her desire to kill Yuichi and herself. Part of her anxiety also comes from dealing with her agelessness and responsibility of being a mother. Because she does not physically age she doubts her own capabilities and the ethics of raising a daughter. This crisis solidifies her status as an ahistorical subject, where neither nor her body nor labor has any significant impact. Kusanagi’s daughter also functions as a trace of her material existence, a living piece of herself reminding her of her nonhuman condition.

Yuichi and his fellow pilots have peripheral connections to the outside world with limited media access, exposure to tourists, and brief encounters with other women living on the outskirts of town. Even though these exchanges and encounters happen they only operate as with brief distractions emphasizing their mundane lives. These contacts also provide kildren with clues about their previous lost self. A woman Yuichi meets through fellow pilot Tokino, tells him “The fact that you’ve come means Jinroh’s dead, isn’t it?”. Even though Yuichi does not exactly know whom she is talking about, she is suggesting that she had sex with kildren before. Their conversation also proves that different kildren have underlying levels of emotion. She also tells him that she has asked Jinroh “Where do you keeping leaving your heart?” and that he did not respond. This is because many kildren have difficulty interpreting their own lives as meaningful to maintain stable feelings of attachment. She explains she was worried about him because him because he often looked like “he was at an impasse”. This information illustrates the point that although Kildren can have sexual experiences they still feel trapped by their work. They cannot find their selves without their work. The woman thinks maybe he left his heart “in the sky” emphasizing how after sexual encounters, she could not emotionally connect with a kildren.

When tourists come to visit the compound and “support” the corporation, the Kildren express desires to “kick their faces in,” showing a general indifference towards their presence. Their visit is clearly propaganda with Yuichi putting fake smile and cheerful demeanor. These moments emphasize pure spectacle of the corporate structure . It is not until a plane crash interrupts their visit that the Kildren stop putting on a show. Kusanagi loses restraint and yells at the tourists, she yells with hypocritical pity for a pilot they did not even know, further exposing the absurdity of funded violence.

The “world” or “reality” of Kildren may be interpreted as a “real without origin or reality: a hyperreal” (Baudrillard 1). What is “real” for the kildren is that they essentially have no origin and use referential signs to simulate their own “reality”. The Kildren use these “signs” as substitutions of substitutions or simulacra as the means to understand their life as machines at war. Although Ksunagi reasons that their simulation of war is for some human historical purpose that brings war to “life” the way textbooks cannot, the news treats their battles like a spectacle. Yet the humans in the world of the Sky crawlers, such as man who works at the dinner the pilots visit, does not look interested in the television reports of the battles visible in his restaurant. Oshii’s camera shows a scene where he steps out of his dinner to sit by an anonymous man. The lens focuses on his blank and bored expression, perhaps suggesting that his own life is as boring and monotonous as the kildren. Yuichi perceives killing Teacher, the undefeatable flying ace, as a possible way to break the structure and he sacrifices himself trying to do so. The major change in the film does not come until the very end, after the viewer is left abandoned staring out into the sky, the lens returns again into Kusanagi’s office, where a she warmly tells a new pilot (assuming it is Yuichi brought back to life) “ I have been waiting for you”. The end of Sky crawlers ends the same way it beings and its cyclic structure is unattached to time unlike in Oshii’s earlier film Patlabor 2. Patlabor 2 provides a more realistic presentation of time and deals with similar issues of war, resistance, and struggle in a broader historical context.

In Patlabor 2, a general says Japan “does not exist in a vacuum”. His quote ties together different understandings of agency and movement within a local, national, and global context. At the global level, this represents Japan’s relationship to other “post war” nation states. At this level, action and movement are influenced by external powers such as the U.S., exposes’ Japan’s dependence on foreign nations. However, in a local context this dependence plays out in various ways, through Tsuge’s actions and the state’s response to his action. Tsuge’s actions are seen at the global level as “terrorism”. Yet, Tsuge sees his action as a way to disrupt local patterns of movement that state and global powers govern.

Throughout Patlabor 2 Oshii brings his lens into the public sphere of Tokyo to show the inconsistencies between the Japan Defense force’s panic and insecurity and the public’s apathetic responses to the “terrorist” attacks. Security forces and police respond to Tsuge’s “terrorist” attacks by ensuring “public safety” by increasing paramilitary presence and installing surveillance equipment throughout Tokyo to prevent more attacks. The lens shows Nagumo watching in shock as the bridge explodes; perhaps never imaging such an action was possible in her city. On the contrary, regular civilians seem undeterred taking pictures with tanks while children wave at military labors, giving the event the quality of a spectacle (images 4,5). Different factions of military and police forces are also seen prepare for a “worse case scenario” by deploying tanks, military machines, and hoarding provisions.


(Figure 4)


(Figure 5)

Oshii’s pauses his lens at a wall painted with the words “Lumiere et ombre” meaning “dark and light” in French like dark military figures standing in front of reflective corporate buildings (10,12) . These words suggest a distortion between “light” and “shadow” like the duality between “truth” and “untruth”, simulation and reality. These words in a public space allude to the influence corporate media and how it shapes public conceptions of the evolving cityscape. The media interjects into the public’s everyday life with giant television screens visible in public squares and by commuting stations and news reports audible across space (7). Oshii moves his lens to emphasize the omnipresence of the media and how it operates to naturalize military presence. The media also functions as an intermediary between the public and the state as the only source for the public to gather information. Oshii’s moves his lens through the city as a news report announces, “All provisions for martial law were dropped from the legal code. The general consensus has been…” while the “camera” shifts from the inside of taxicab, the streets, into passing traffic, and an armed helicopter flying over Tokyo (images 13, 14, 8,9,11). This screen illustrates how the state projects its authority across space and is represented as democratic, prepared, and rational.


(Figure 6)


(Figure 7)


(Figure 8)


(Figure 9)


(Figure 10)


(Figure 11)


(Figure 12)


(Figure 13)


(Figure 14)

The news report is also ironic, because the defense state is represented as a democratic and methodical structure where sound decisions are made based on a “consensus”. Yet the films shows that the state does not function democratically and that Gotoh and Nagumo are discharged for challenging its ineffective hierarchal structure. The viewer can also infer that the information the media provides is as important as what it omits. The film shows the Japanese state making decisions that includes conflating their own national interests with submission to US control. This affects Japanese citizens abilities when it comes to making public safety decisions against “terrorist” attacks. During these times of crises Gotoh and Nagumo argue for putting aside political relations in order to ensure “law and order”, but their demotion forces them to work autonomously. They form a vigilante group to capture Tsuge and take paramilitary actions against a perceived threat completely outside of public view. This proves that the media functions to legitimize a state structure as compliant with U.S. interests. The media provides the public with images of a bridge blowing up without any explanation or commentary, thereby ignoring and delegitimizing any discourse of the event.

The tensions between the local police, defense and intelligence forces erupt when different state factions start working with and against each other. They do so because they do not want the U.S. to intervene or undermine their power. Because Nagumo and Gotoh recognize these tensions as problematic they are also in a position to realize that these structural problems are not new. Initially, Tsuge’s actions are perceived as a war-like threat, but Arkawa assures Gotoh that a war has been going on for a while. Gotoh begins to interpret Tsuge’s actions as a response to the global violence of U.S.- Japanese relations.

It is also significant that even officer Gotoh attributes relative “peace” as a part of U.S. military occupation of Japan, even though he has not experienced the war preceding the occupation. Gotoh also sees any participation in global violence and capitalism as supporting the cycle of “civil war, armed conflict, and ethnic strife” and that “our economic prosperity is created by demand for those wars”. Gotoh acknowledges that Japan benefits and legitimizes it power by keeping violence out of view. If anything, Tsuge aims to challenge state power by bringing violence he is personally affected by into the public eye. Tsuge creates war like conditions to disrupt any “illusion” [s] of peace by shutting down the communications systems, bombing major bridges, and turning a fake gas attack into a spectacle. Tsuge’s blimps release a faux gas over Tokyo causing panic amongst the soldiers until they realize it is a hoax.

By staging the attack as a spectacle, the actions also take on a symbolic purpose. In contrast to “state violence” Tsuge does not intend to gain anything from his exploits other than disruption. Whether or not Tsuge intends his actions to inspire a more democratic or autonomous state is unclear. The news reports only provide the public with ambiguous or false information, such as citing the bombing as a “terrorist attack” without further explanation of who the terrorists are and why they bombed the bridge. Even when Tsuge’s clever actions give him an advantage over the state, he does not hold anyone hostage or make any kind of demands. Instead he lets the actions produce whatever potential effect on the people without concern over how it is represented. His actions are completely intentional and he does not struggle when Nagumo arrests him. Yet, when asked why he gives himself over to the state, he replies he wanted to see Tokyo’s future, implying a desire for change without indicating what that change may be.

To sum up the analysis of Patlabor 2, it is useful to reference the Gulf War as one of Mamoru Oshii’s influences for the film and particularly the work of Mark Anderson’s "Oshii Mamoru’s Patlabor 2: Terror, Theatricality, and Exceptions That Prove the Rule." In this article he analyzes Arkawa’s argument as “given the brutality that defines the international status quo, the defense of “peace” constitutes a particularly dangerous illusion” that works by “banishis[ing] war to the realm behind the [television] screen” (89). Anderson also references the U.S. state of exception in international relations with Japan, in which the 1951 U.S.-Japan Security Treaty granted the U.S. unilateral discretion in positioning U.S. military forces in Japan (89). Anderson provides interesting context of U.S. –Japan relations as an influence in Oshii’s work but I am not certain if I can agree with his argument that “ the film’s main characters nevertheless remain centrally concerned to reinstitute effective Japanese national boundaries and sovereignty” (91). Although the characters desire a more independent state, it’s not clear that arguing for a sovereign nation was the point the film was trying to make. Instead, Oshii could create these fictional characters and world to illustrate how “post-war” nation-states have benefitted from global capitalism, often imposed with violence, by intervening in foreign wars and justified by media misrepresentations.

Anderson also cites a history of internal state conflicts that includes Naomi Klein’s point that “postwar neo-liberalism is ultimately a political project grounded in destruction” (93) which is also useful for looking at Sky crawlers. The fictional world of Sky crawlers is an extreme where semiotic reductive subjectivity and disturbing ethics of war and capital is the central crisis. If Patlabor 2 did not raise questions over the ethics over “inclusion through exclusion” in international wars (89) than Sky crawlers offers an even more extreme representation of war as simulacrum. Not even the characters in the film provide a coherent argument as to why a simulated war is in the interest of corporate capital, but perhaps Oshii intends to extend Klein’s argument on neo-liberalism where the project of destruction becomes the goal. Destruction, or violence becomes the ultimate goal used to maintain a public idea of purpose and peace. Oshii seems to purposefully distort the idea of war as ultimately appropriated for the interests of control and capital. Any other interpretation in this film is propaganda as illustrated by the visiting tourists who believe the kildren are actually doing some kind of public service. Overall, Oshii creates fictional worlds to raise questions and dramatically emphasize contradictions in the ethics of violence as legitimized by state structures and media propaganda.


NOTES

1. “The exposition will take up in turn the following constitutive features of the postmodern: a new depthlessness, which finds its prolongation both in contemporary “theory” and in a whole new culture of the image or simulacrum; a consequent weakening of historicity, both in our relation to public history and in the new forms of our private temporality, whose “schizophrenic” structure (following Lacan) will determine new types of syntax….” (6)


WORKS CITED


Anderson, Mark P. D. "Oshii Mamoru's Patlabor 2: Terror, Theatricality, and Exceptions That Prove the Rule." Mechademia. 4.1 (2010): 75-109.

Baudrillard, Jean. Simulations. New York City, N.Y., U.S.A: Semiotext(e), Inc, 1983.

Jameson, Fredric. Postmodernism, Or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. Durham: Duke University Press, 1991.

Afraid To Be the Same: Equality and Equivalence in Fullmetal Alchemist

PLOT SUMMARY

Fullmetal Alchemist[1] is a story about the journey of the Elric brothers. Edward and Alphonse Elric are brothers, alchemists, and orphans. Their father left them and their mother and their mother died a short time after that. The boys found a teacher and learned alchemy determined to bring their mother back from the dead. When the brothers try to bring their mother back the transmutation (alchemic process) goes terribly wrong. Alphonse (the younger brother) loses his entire body and Edward loses his left leg. Edward quickly sacrifices his right arm to attach Alphonse’s soul to a suit of armor. Edward is outfitted with artificial limbs called auto-mail and the brothers decide that trying to bring anyone back from the dead, even the mother they missed so much, was a mistake they would never make again. They set out on a journey to restore their physical bodies back to normal. They seek the philosopher’s stone, a legendary stone said to grant the user the ability to bypass the laws of equivalent exchange that anchor alchemy in balance. The brothers discover along the way that the main ingredient to the philosopher’s stone is live human beings. The brothers almost give up on their quest after refusing to sacrifice anyone to get back what was taken from them as punishment in the first place. At this point their teacher returns to teach them once again that, “All is one, one is all.”[2] As the brothers nearly reach their goal it is revealed to Edward that the gate he first saw when he and Alphonse failed to bring their mother back is the gateway between two worlds: the world of alchemy and the world we live in. This gate is the same gate that gave Edward his ability to transmute without a circle, something that cannot be done without the knowledge gained from the gate. Furthermore, Edward’s father explains that the gate not only contains great knowledge but the energy with which alchemists perform their transmutations: the souls of the people who die in our world.

THESIS

“Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange. In those days, we really believed that to be the world's one, and only truth.”[3] This philosophical theory applied as law to the mystical science of alchemy is a statement made to lead the viewer to question the nature of existence and how it relates to equivalency and equality. Human lives are equal despite their unique nature: this is the difference between equivalence and equality. No human life is more or less valuable than the next, but one cannot be substituted for another. The alchemy in Fullmetal Alchemist approaches this unique relationship with laws that enforce balance. However, the Elric brothers’ journey reveals that the relationship is not so simple. The question of difference between equivalence and equality in regards to human life shades a black and white system of balance with a tremendous amount of gray. This uncertainty leads one to doubt whether human equivalence can be entirely free of human equality, and if it is the human need to feel unique that defines the common misguided view of the human equivalence/human equality relationship. The human need to feel unique is caused by a fear that we are, in fact, not; Fullmetal Alchemist offers a critique on this fear by questioning whether a human being can escape the equalizing demands of the postmodern global market.


(Figure 1)

MOTHER: EQUIVALENCE AND EQUALITY ARE SEPARATE

When the Elric brothers try to bring their mother back from the dead they still believe that one human soul is equal to the next; Edward says, “What’s a soul really? When you take out the myth it’s just the spark that starts life.” Edward and Alphonse proceed to offer a drop of blood each from their fingers (See Figure 1) as worthy materials for the transmutation, “This is our blood, from her blood.”[4] As empirical young scientists the brothers have a overly logical definition for the human soul. However, they believe that since it was their mother who gave them life then their blood is from her blood and therefore the right blood to use for specifically bringing back their mother. This offers a mixed interpretation of the value of a human soul. The Elric brothers believe that their mother’s soul is special in that it requires the souls of her children to bring her back, but a soul is treated by the brothers as a measurable substance. It is after the brothers fail to revive their mother that they see there is a difference between equality and equivalence. However, the brothers take this realization and create an ultimatum from it: equality and equivalence in regards to human life are completely separate. This narrow definition of the equality/equivalency relationship is reinforced when the brothers discover the key ingredient for the philosopher’s stone.

Users of the stone and those who pursue it after discovering the truth clearly do no differentiate from equality and equivalency since they believe that one soul is exactly as same as the next. The brothers come to understand the there is no defying the balance alchemy’s laws enforce, because even the philosopher’s stone follows these laws. It is with the power of human life stored within the stone that transmutations appear to ignore balance; with the human life being equal and not equivalent the power is endless but a balance still exists because the power gained is power taken from live human sacrifices. It is important to note that it is living human sacrifices because that indicates the power stored in the stone is not gained from the human body but from the soul which can only be found in a living human. This asserts that the human soul is what makes an individual human special and unique, but Alphonse’s condition is a challenge against this.


(Figure 2)

Alphonse is a ‘living suit of armor’. The only thing keeping his soul in the realm of the living is the blood seal Edward used in his transmutation (See Figures 2 and 3). Alphonse’s physical appearnence is very important in placing emphasis on the human soul as the deciding factor to human uniqueness and therefore the irreplaceable nature of human life, because Alphonse is alive without having a human body to live in. Alphonse cannot age, he cannot get sick, he never gets tired, and he never gets hungry or thirsty. On the surface this partial invulnerability implies that Alphonse has surpassed innert human weaknesses. However, it is far more important that Alphonse can still feel emotionally even though he cannot feel the wind against his artificial body. The director at times has Alphonse express these emotions while the expressionless armor stays stoic. I find that these moments are for more effective in placing the importance of human value on intangibles such as feelings can sometimes be, because while the helmet is incapable of expressing emotions Alphonse still is. His emotions can be heard in his real, human voice. Also, Alphonse’s body may be artificial but his soul is still able to use it to express body language. The important thing to note is how similar the armor is to an actual human body. Without our souls the human body is a lifeless heap of flesh and bones. Without our souls are bodies are simply, “Water, 35 litres. Carbon, 20kg. Ammonia, 4 litres. Lime, 1.5kg. Phospherous, 800g. Salt, 250g. Saltpeter, 100g. Sulphur, 80kg. Flourine 7.5g. Iron, 5g. Silicon, 3g. And trace amounts of fifteen other elements.”[5]


(Figure 3)

It is our souls that bring purpose to the body greater than just being a collection of elements, our bodies become houses for our souls and in turn our souls give life to our otherwise lifeless bodies. The co-dependency between the human body and the human soul is reflected in Alphonse’s unique situation, because without his soul the armor is lifeless, but without the armor Alphonse’s soul would leave the realm of the living.

Despite this co-dependency it is still the soul that defines human life more so than the body. Alphonse’s life is still his despite being a suit of armor, because it is far more important that he is still human as defined by his soul. Alphonse grows to doubt this definition of the human identity, believing that his so-called soul is actually a collection of memories weaved together by his older brother to fabricate a fake existence. It is not being a suit of armor that makes Alphonse doubt whether he is human it is not being sure if soul is genuine, as can been seen in the following scene when Alphonse confronts his brother about these thoughts:

Maybe you can go back to normal brother and I hope you do, but I’m not sure I ever can… After all memories are just information you can reference like a cabinet of files. As skilled an alchemist as you are you could have created any memories you wanted me to have… I can’t remember parts of my past because they never happened. My memories and my soul are fake, something you created. I know what the truth is, the person known as Alphonse Elric never existed at all… How can I believe anyone when there’s no way to prove it, when I’m just a hollow shell… What’s the point of living this lie?[6]

This is profound because it internalizes the conflict between the human body and soul and which defines human life and its worth. Alphonse believes he is, “an empty shell” because he cannot be sure if his soul his genuine and not because he is literally an empty suit of armor. There are times when normal human lives are attacked by alienation when an individual too feels like an empty shell because they feel they have lost or never had their own special purpose for being alive.

YOCK ISLAND: EQUALITY AND EQUIVALENCE ARE CONNECTED

This feeling of being special, important even in the smallest of ways is so often a crucial factor in a happy and fulfilled feeling about one’s own existence. While some claim that they do not need to feel special to be happy, that they are happy being a part of the crowd or no crowd at all, the truth is that human life is worth far more than some fool themselves into believing. This is where the difference between equality and equivalence is key and it is also where the lesson of, “All is one, one is all” becomes a lesson worth learning. Since each human life is worth the exact same as the next it can be hard to identify individual importance. Fredric Jameson discusses postmodernism in regards to its impact on aesthetics, “What has happened is that aesthetic production today has become integrated into a commodity production generally… (from clothing to airplanes), at ever greater rates of turnover, now assigns an incresingly essential sturctural function and position to aesthetic innovation and experimintation.”[7] Expanding this reality beyond the artistic expression and technological advancements of humankind to include the very worth of an individual human, I believe that one finds that while equality does not constitue equivalency, the two are connected just as something as romantic as art has been given worth as an exchangable item of the global market. The Elric brothers learn from their teacher during their training on Yock Island that being special does not absolve you from being an equal part of the world:

Edward: We talked about what would happen if we died here remember?

Alphonse: Yeah a lot of people would be sad.

Edward: That’s a subjective opinion, but look at it objectively. If I died the world would continue to move on as if nothing had happened.

Alphonse: Because you’re just a small part of it.

Edward: When the small part, in this case me, dies the body remains.

Alphonse: Water, carbon, ammonia, lime, phosphorous, salt, saltpeter, sulfur, magnesium, fluorine, iron, and aluminum right?

Edward: Right, the body is only a combination of those elements, nothing more. We are destined to be decomposed by bacteria and become nutrients for plants and you follow the process further those plants nourish herbivores.

Alphonse: And those herbivores nourish carnivores even others like us and though we lose awareness our lives keep moving through the system.

Edward: The great flow that maintains the universe, call it the cycle of life, the course of nature, each of us is just a small part of that current, one in the all; in the end without all the individual ones the all can’t exist. This world flows by following grander laws we can’t even imagine. To recognize that flow and work within it, to decompose and recreate that is alchemy.[8]

The Elric brothers realize that each human life is equal including their own and their late mother’s and at the same time they are not equivalent because each individual human life is necessary in the continuing balance of existence. However, this connection can lead one to question whether or not equality and equivalence can be connected without human life being not only being equal but equivalent.

THE GATE: HUMANS ARE EQUIVALENT

Jameson aruges that postmodernism must be addressed as a system that allows for difference, “It seems to me essential to grasp postmodernism not as a style but rather as a cultural dominant: a conception which allows for the presence and coexistence of a range of very different, yet subordinate features.”[9] This is a postive outlook on postmodernism considering that people are often in support of not only variety and tolerance for the variety, but a union formed in respect and understanding. Unfortunately, this is utopian prospect that could only occur if postmodernism was a perfect system. Jameson asserts that it is not, “I have felt however, that it was only in the light of some conception of a dominant culture logic or hegemonic norm that genuine difference could be measured and assessed.”[10] This argument is key in understanding why humans have such a need to be unequivalent and yet equal at the same time and how that is at least partially impossible.


(Figure 4)

Edward Elric encounters this dillemma within the equality/equivalence relationship when his father explains to him the nature of the gate (See Figure 4). The idea that no transmutation can occur without the energy provided by the souls of those who die on our side of the gate is profound in that it removes the possibility that human life can be equal without being equivalent. The gate is not biased; no matter who someone is when they die on our side of the gate their soul becomes energy. Therefore, our soul, this part of us that is supposed to be the piece that makes us unequivocal is in fact no different from the next person’s soul. This idea is represented symbolically with the gate. Before Edward finds out about the other side he and his teacher discuss what might be inside:

Izumi: You remember it though, don’t you Edward?

Edward: Yes, the gateway. I remember; how could I not? The truth, that’s what was in there.

Izumi: The truth…

Edward: I couldn’t understand what was going on. It was as if a vast amount of information was being implanted directly into my mind, and suddenly I-I knew things about alchemy that I’d never learned, everything, and I knew I was just one step away from achieving a complete human transmutation. I understood when I was inside that gateway if I acted now there was still time.

[Edward quickly applies the blood seal he learned about in the gateway and applies it to the suit of armor and performs the transmutation]

Edward: I saw the truth while inside that gateway. That’s why I’m able to transmute without a circle and how I bonded Al’s soul to the suit of armor. I learned it all in there.

Izumi: You really think it’s the truth that’s beyond that gateway?

Edward: Of course; what else could it be?

Izumi: I don’t know, a shortcut, the secret to a magic trick.[11]

The important thing to take note of in this conversation is how Edward claims he, “was just one step away from achieving a complete human transmutation.” This is important because Edward has ironically been performing human transmutations every time he transmutes because he’s been using the energy created by a human soul or possibly souls (the exchange rate is never specified). One could argue that this upsets the balance that the laws of alchemy are supposed ot enforce. However, I argue that the laws of alchemy represent the need for humans to believe that they are unequivocal to one another and the gate represents the truth just as Edward called it, but not how he described it. Because Edward has, this entire time, been performing human transmutations it only makes since that the gate would lead him all the way up to the last step for a complete human transmutation. The reason the gate stopped there is because Edward, being human, would not be able to understand the last step, which I argue is to realize that human beings are actually equivocal and they are so due to their own complacency. I argue that if Edward were to accept this fact he would be able complete his human transmutation and bring his mother back, but equivalency is about exchange and it would cost one human soul in return. The unfortunate truth is that it does not matter which soul.

In this frame of mind the philosopher’s stone can be seen as something not so evil. After all, the philosopher’s stone uses the energy from the souls of the people in the world of alchemy, sparing the souls of those who die on our side. The philosopher’s stone simply enables its user to choose from where he or she is getting the souls needed for their transmutations. This further supports the idea that human lives are actually equivocal since one can choose which ones to use from two mass selections. This is a dangerous reality that while in the anime seems to be no more than an explanation for a mystical science, but outside the show it is a eye-opening critique of the world’s current value of human life as decided upon by humans.

CONCLUSION: HUMAN WORTH IN A POSTMODERNIST SOCIETY

So what’s the point to it all? Why place such deep, philosophical elements in an anime? The author of the original manga – Hiromu Arakawa – clearly inspired the director of the anime to send a message with this anime: humans are equivalent no matter how unique anyone is and the sad truth of the matter is that this is a new condition brought on by ourselves. The global market of the postmodernist era demands that trade not end at products and items; people are assigned worth according to their contribution to a world that continuously progresses towards a complete, dominate global economy. Timothy Brennan reflects on this harsh reality in his analysis of Hardt and Negri’s Empire, “Empire’s rule has no limits… [It posits a regime that effectively encompasses the spatial totality… an order that effectively suspends history and thereby fixes the existing state of affairs for eternity… [and] operates on all registers of the social order extending to the depths of the social world… Power [cannot] mediate among different social forces.”[12] This global economy that as a society we have constructed has gained too much power, so much so that we feel that we have no choice but to apathetically succumb to its marginilizing affects of the many while exhalting the few. This financially driven, global competition is the threat to our uniqueness represented by the laws of alchemy and the Elric brothers’ enlightening, yet futile journey to finding a way to defy those laws in Fullmetal Alcchemist.

It is the futility of the Elric brothers’ attempts that is meant to act as the warning to the viewer. When going up against the most powerful economic system of the time one cannot help but feel insignificant and when things as priceless as our artisitic expression – which is a core piece to our uniqueness – are priced and compared across the planet, equivocating human worth is not much of stretch. This type of alienating effect is best explained by Karl Marx in his Early Writings, “From political economy itself, using its own words, we have shown that the worker sinks to the level of a commodity, and moreover the most wretched commodity of all.”[13] We as citizens of this alienating global economy must find a way to exist within its undefiable structure, in order to find a way to hang on to our uniqueness despite the equivocating effects postmodernism has on something previously seen as undefinable as human-to-human equivalency.


NOTES

1. Fullmetal Alchemist is originally a manga series written and illustrated by Hiromu Arakawa, published by VIZ, LLC. The version of Fullmetal Alchemist analyzed in this paper is the anime series directed by Seiji Mizushima, a total of 51 episodes long the showed originally aired from 4 October 2003 – 2 October 2004, Produced by Bones Animation Studio. While both versions start out very similar there are significant differences between the two versions as the plot progresses.

2. This lesson was first taught to Edward and Alphonse when they trained under Izumi and was later taught to them again when the brothers had lost sight of their responsibilities as alchemists.

3. This is the opening line for each episode of Fullmetal Alchemist narrated by the character Alphonse Elric.

4. Edward Elric in Volume 1 – The Curse, Episode 3 – Mother, 1:00:53-1:01:02

5. These are the ingredients of the average human body as listed by Edward Elric a few different times in the show.

6. Alphonse Elric in Volume 6 – Captured Souls, Episode 23 – Fullmetal Heart, 1:06:47-1:09:06.

7. Jameson, Fredric – The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism – Page 4

8. Edward and Alphonse Elric in Volume 7 – Reunion on Yock Island, Episode 28 – All Is One, One Is All, 1:30:24-1:32:07.

9. Jameson, Fredric – The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism – Page 4.

10. Jameson, Fredric - The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism – Page 6

11. Edward Elric and Izumi Curtis in Volume 8 – The Alter of Stone, Episode 29 – The Untainted Child, 13:34-16:57

12. Brennan, Timothy – The Empire’s New Clothes – pg. 350 – Critical Inquiry, Winter 2003

13. Mark, Karl – Early Writings – pg. 322