The bureaucrats are on to something, but they will have to be nimble to avoid squashing it
By T.B. | TOKYO
Odd man out
IN AKIHABARA, Tokyo’s centre of anime and manga sales and fandom, a new government plan is wildly popular. The idea is to project an image of “Cool Japan” around the world (like Cool Britannia in the 1990s, but without the rhyme). Kyon, a costumed maid touting one of the area’s many maid cafes, says she feels fully part of the effort. Tsukamoto Hiroshi, a retail buyer of manga, says that the fragile Japanese comic industry could do with some official support. But isn’t a government-driven attempt to manufacture “cool”, well, just the opposite?
The main spur for the government is envy at South Korea’s outsize popular influence. Japan’s global cool factor had been recognised long before PSY’s “Gangnam Style” ever hit nightclub turntables and Korean soap operas conquered the rest of Asia. Yet the Japanese creative industries failed to turn the moment—which seems to have peaked early in the past decade—into anything lasting. Video games sold well, but anime, manga, films and books never made it overseas on a commercial scale. Back then, anime and manga were regarded as a mediocrity in Japan, and the authorities paid little attention.
Now the government of Shinzo Abe is in the midst of spending some ¥90 billion ($883m) to propel Japan’s creative industries abroad. Tomomi Inada, a minister whose job it is to press ahead with “Cool Japan”, is working hard. On a trip to Paris she dressed up in a distinctive interpretation of classic design crossed with street culture: as a GothLoli, or “Gothic Lolita”, in the fashion of the iconic teens of Harajuku. It must be counted as a good sign that the government is becoming more open to what foreigners think is cool about Japan, not just what locals reckon best represents the country. One such example cited by Ms Inada cites is the Japanese penchant for device-laden toilets, which have long been taken for granted at home.
Many of Japan’s hippest creators want nothing to do with the government’s initiative. Takashi Murakami, a famous artist and sculptor, begged the government last year to stop inviting him to its events. A particularly clunky Cool Japan video issued by bureaucrats from the ministry of economy last summer went viral for being the nearly unwatchable essence of anti-cool:
Another difficulty is that the government seems to be confused about what it thinks is cool. It would like to define “Cool Japan” as encompassing far more than edgy anime and manga, which already enjoy global appeal. It would be a mistake to focus too narrowly on these areas, reckons Takashi Mitachi, the head of the Boston Consulting Group in Tokyo, who has advised the government on the strategy. One reason for the fame of the manga-and-anime complex is its blend of cutesy yet pornographic or otherwise disturbing images—which often adds up to being something more like weird than cool per se.
This month Japan’s parliament is expected to pass a law that would criminalise possession of child pornography for the first time—yet such images in manga, anime and video-game graphics will be left exempt from its provisions, for the sake of freedom of expression. The prevalence of such content is one reason, some argue, why the industry’s offerings have not moved more completely into the commercial mainstream abroad. Creators instead focus closely on their devoted Japanese audience of so-called otaku, or “geeks” (welcoming the odd foreign otaku as a bonus).
There are already some achievements in more traditional fields. In December last year washoku, or traditional Japanese food culture, won acknowledgement from UNESCO as an “intangible cultural heritage” that merits safeguarding. Mr Abe, a social conservative, can look like the ultimate square. This spring he declared that in fact it is the ankle-reaching kimono that best represents his “Cool Japan” initiative.
But there is little doubt that it is the provocative energy behind anime and manga that is more likely to inspire a young global audience. The authorities recently had a reminder of how troublesome some of its artists can be. In May, a popular Japanese manga series called “Oishinbo” (“The Gourmet”), created a controversy when its main character, a journalist, developed uncontrollable nosebleeds after visiting the stricken nuclear power plant in Fukushima prefecture. Mr Abe attacked “Oishinbo” for spreading “baseless rumours”. Like it or not, authority-defying comics are a part of Japanese culture.
For now, the government-backed Cool Japan Fund plans to build a Japan-themed shopping mall in Ningbo, in eastern China, and to dub Japanese programming for South-East Asia. That all sounds rather safer. The trouble is, it is not terribly cool.
