Anime and Philosophy

by Josef Steiff

  Most of us seem to recognize that the Darwinian idea of winning at all costs is not the way to go. And not just because it leads to an unsatisfying life like Vegeta’s. Think of Sasuke’s quest to beat his brother Itachi in Naruto. To reach Itachi’s level, Sasuke thinks he needs to acquire the Mangekyo Sharingan which requires him to kill someone dear to him in order to awaken it. Even though he’s obsessed with vengeance, Sasuke recognizes that there are certain lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Better to lose than to win by “leveling up” into a monster. As in most philosophical debates, even when we think one side is clearly right, the other side has a point.

  The Darwinian model challenges the Smithian idea that we can be certain about what kind of life is desirable. Looking at some of our examples, we can see that people do make mistakes when distinguishing “heroes” from “monsters.” Many people treat those who are the hosts of tailed beasts as monstrous beings and shun them. They do this even though some of those hosts, notably Naruto and Gaara, have been the only ones who are at a high enough “level” to protect their village. Similarly, in the world of One Piece, most people who partake of the Devil Fruit (look at its name) are regarded as monsters and ostracized. Once again, some very good people, like Monkey D. Luffy, Smoker and even Nico Robin, use their abilities to fight for people when no one else can. Those who champion the Darwinian model remind us that even if it is better to take a Smithian perspective on competition, we cannot let our notion of “the kind of person we ought to be” close off the possibility of change and improvement in the kind of person we can be. Any major changes in our ideas of what it means to be “human” must be carefully considered. And certainly any change in the kind of life we ought to pursue must be supported by moral arguments. Certainly, that is what Smith does in his books when he presents a certain vision of how humans live together.

  However, even though we should be open to the possibility of revising our ideas concerning the kind of competitor we ought to practice being, we should not embrace the Darwinian idea that “winning” a competition is all that matters. The argument in favor of the Smithian way of thinking about competition is based upon both the level of personal satisfaction it offers and the fact that trying to shape ourselves into the kind of beings that we think will win can backfire. Becoming Super Saiyan 4 might work great in one circumstance and lead to your defeat in another. It is far better to focus on being a great human martial artist than on simply being a winning fighter.

  This does not mean we should stop debating what it means to be human or a great martial artist. Certainly modern economists do not share Smith’s ideas concerning human nature, and thus they tolerate an environment of competition that contributed to the global economic crisis that began in 2008. What it does mean is that we should concentrate on something more than winning or simply improving a specialized set of skills. Perhaps the kind of person we are trying to be.

  Heroes

  13

  Alchemic Heroes

  BENJAMIN CHANDLER

  Our heroes define us. They represent the best of us. In attempting to determine how they might reflect the society from which they emerge, a variety of methods have been used: the functional approach, which examines what heroes do within a narrative and how they do it; the psychological approach, which looks at why heroes act the way they do; and the archetypal approach, which identifies recurring patterns of heroic characteristics. These methods often complement each other. The functional and psychological approaches can help identify heroic archetypes, while the archetypal approach can give us a deeper understanding of the psychological and functional approaches and how these might reflect any cultural nuances inherent in a heroic character.

  In applying these methods to an analysis of the heroes in Hiromu Arakawa’s Fullmetal Alchemist [Hagane no Renkinjyutsushi] and its movie-length sequel, Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shambala, we can explore how its heroes might represent certain aspects of Japanese culture. Edward (Ed) and Alphonse (Al) Elric are two brothers devoted to the study of alchemy in order to fulfill their quest for redemption. As a pair of heroes they function as what I label a dual-hero, the quintessential Japanese heroic archetype that embodies the fundamental principle at the heart of Japanese philosophical thought. As students they epitomize the Japanese student hero, which reflects the importance of and focus on education throughout Japanese history. As seekers of redemption the brothers represent the wandering redemption seeker, one of the most common Japanese heroic figures, symbolic of the influence of Buddhism on Japanese thought and society.

  These three inter-related methods can tell us a lot about the Elric brothers, and how they might reflect aspects of Japanese culture, but there’s another method of analysis that we can use to deepen our understanding of these heroes. This new method grows out of the functional, psychological, and archetypal approaches and focuses on how these elements—what a hero does, how they do it, why they do it, and who they are—are combined to form a complete character. I call this the compositional approach to understanding heroism because the focus is on the nature of the composition that defines a hero, and how that particular composition might reflect something of the society from which that hero emerges.

  A combination of the functional, psychological, archetypal and compositional approaches is ideal for examining the figure of the alchemic hero because its defining characteristic is its composition. The alchemic hero is an archetype formed by the combination of other heroic archetypes. Ed and Al are alchemic heroes, because they bring together a number of archetypes: the dual-hero, the student hero, and the redemption seeker. They also bring together other Japanese heroic archetypes: the young boy seeking acceptance amongst his older peers, the super strong boy, and the shōjo.

  The Dual-Hero

  When we think of the hero, we tend to think of a single person, of individuals like Beowulf or Superman. Some of our heroes take on sidekicks, but even the name “sidekick” implies they are lesser than the hero to whom they lend a hand. Even when our heroes group together to form crime-fighting, Earth-saving, wrong-righting super teams, like the Knights of the Round Table or the X-men or the Justice League, we still tend to think of them as groups of individuals rather than as a single entity. In part, this is what makes them so interesting. Each part is separate, distinct, and though the heroes might all be pulling in the same general direction, tensions often arise between them. Tension breeds conflict, conflict breeds drama, and so on.

  Things are different in Japan. There are individual, partnered, and teams of heroes in Japan, too, but there also exists a peculiar Japanese heroic identity that I have come to call the dual-hero—two individuals so irrevocably linked that they function within the narrative as a single entity, a single hero.

  This uniquely Japanese heroic construction is rooted in Japanese culture, mythology, and philosophy. In the Japanese creation story, two gods—Izanami (“Female-Who-Invites”) and Izanagi (“Male-Who-Invites”)—come together to create the world. They are two opposing yet equal principles, male and female, which together make a whole. Although it’s unclear, it is possible Izanami and Izanagi are modeled on the principles of yin (darkness, female, passivity) and yang (light, male, activity) in Chinese philosophy. Although the forces of yin and yang are opposites, they each hold the essence of the other within themselves. This is the exact opposite of the Judeo-Christian mythology, which involves the splitting of a whole into two parts: God creates Adam and then takes something from him in order to make Eve.9 One being becomes two. In Japan, two forces come together to create the universe: two beings become one. This manner of creation is reflected in the heroism of each culture. Western heroes are often divided within themselves, while Japanese dual-heroes bring together two separate entities.

  Ed and Al form the dual-hero in Fullmetal Alchemist. They are both alchemists, able to transmute one substance into another by analysing it, breaking it down into its component parts, and then reassembling it into a new form. In many ways t
hey are opposites: Ed is brash, easily agitated, and aggressive (the yang), while Al is reserved, calm, and passive (the yin). Yet they each possess elements of the other at their heart: Al actually fights better than Ed, and Ed is capable of the sustained study necessary for mastering alchemy, which requires the ability to remain calm and focused. In this way the brothers embody the principles of yin and yang.

  This alone is not enough to make them a dual-hero. What truly forges the brothers into a single function is their common goal. During an ill-fated attempt to resurrect their mother, the Elric brothers lose their human bodies in a perverse act of equivalent exchange, which is the underlying philosophy of their world and the guiding principle of alchemy. Instead of bringing their mother back to life, they birth a monster and, in doing so, Ed loses his right arm and left leg, and Al loses his entire body. Ed is able to fuse Al’s soul onto a suit of armor and later replaces his lost limbs with automated ones, called auto-mail. The Elric brothers then embark on a quest to discover the Philosopher’s Stone that allows alchemists to transmute objects from nothing, circumventing the law of equivalent exchange. They no longer wish to resurrect their mother but to return their bodies to normal. This is more than a common quest or goal shared by two heroes. It is the same quest, and neither brother wants more nor less than to reach their goal. It is this utter singularity of purpose that fuses the two brothers into a dual-hero.

  Student Heroes

  The dual-hero has been present in Japanese myth, legend, and folklore since Izanami and Izanagi first came together. If the Elric brothers were simply a dual-hero, they wouldn’t be anything new. What makes them so interesting is that they also bring together a number of other Japanese heroic archetypes in a fusion almost alchemic itself in nature. One of the components of that alchemic fusion is the dual-hero. Another is the student hero.

  Like the dual-hero, the student hero can be traced back through the Japanese narrative tradition. Descended from the samurai culture of the Bushido Code, which stressed the importance of training the body and mind to be always ready for death, the Japanese student hero devotes him or herself to intense study and training. It is the intensity of this study and training that sets Japanese student heroes apart from other heroes, or even from student heroes from other cultures. Ed and Al both study alchemy from a very young age, but once they lose their mother and decide to bring her back to life, they devote themselves entirely to mastering alchemy. If anything, once they have failed and begin instead their quest to return their bodies to normal, their pursuit of knowledge becomes even more intense and focused.

  Although Ed and Al’s father is a great alchemist, there is never any question that their abilities are anything but the result of hard-earned knowledge. They did not inherit their powers from their father, nor gain them from some other source like a nuclear reactor or genetically modified spider bite. Ed and Al are great alchemists because they sacrifice everything to study alchemy. They even go searching for a teacher when they realize they won’t be able to gain the knowledge they need on their own.

  Their teacher is Izumi Curtis, a woman who, like the brothers, attempts a forbidden resurrection. Izumi puts the Elric brothers through intense physical as well as mental training in order to improve their alchemy. The brothers already had a desire to study hard, but under Izumi they learn to hone their bodies as well as their minds. A part of this training involves stranding the brothers on a deserted island to fend for themselves for one month, with no food, while a masked man terrorizes them constantly. Izumi won’t agree to train the Elrics unless they survive and, in the process of overcoming this great physical ordeal, discover the secret at the heart of all alchemy—all is one and one is all. During their training they learn that the mind and body are inexorably linked.

  The study of alchemy is also a form of spiritual study. The laws of alchemy are governed by equivalent exchange: nothing is ever gained without first giving something else up in exchange. This is also the underlying philosophy of the culture in which the Elric brothers grow up, and so the study of alchemy is partly a study of the way that culture functions. By bringing together and focusing so intently on these three forms of study - mental, physical, and spiritual—the Elric brothers epitomize the figure of the Japanese student hero.

  Wandering Redemption Seekers

  Another Japanese heroic archetype is the wanderer seeking redemption. These wanderers are usually warriors who seek to atone for a past life of sin and typically come to the path of redemption later in life. The youth of the Elric brothers makes them somewhat unique in this tradition—Ed and Al are fifteen and fourteen-years-old respectively during the events of Fullmetal Alchemist—but their quest to restore what was lost to them, not their mother but their bodies, is classic wanderer fare. They are seeking to make up for their past wrongs, to make a clean break from the errors of their past. Increasingly, the brothers’ quest sees them trying to break away from the errors of the older generations as well.

  Wandering redemption seekers have a strong history in Japanese heroic narratives. Often Samurai warriors have laid down their swords to pursue a spiritual life or have turned from a blood-thirsty past to use their swords to protect the weak and innocent. Such wandering warriors inevitably stumble across helpless innocents along their travels and take time out of their quest for redemption to stop and help those less fortunate. The true heart of their redemption lies in these small acts, though often the hero does not realize this, instead focusing on some ultimate, often unattainable goal, never realizing they are constantly moving towards redemption in everything they do.

  Alchemy has few laws, but they are absolute. Do not create gold. Human transmutation is forbidden. For something to be gained, something of equal value must be given up. In attempting to resurrect their mother, the Elric brothers have sinned. They are spurred to find the Philosopher’s Stone to nullify that sin, to replace what was taken from them. They are actually looking for redemption, but they don’t fully grasp what that means. Their goal is to attain the Stone; that is all they see, but along the way they commit a number of redemptive acts without realizing the significance of those acts. They expose a fraudulent holy man, freeing a town from a man bent on raising an army. They liberate a coal-mining town from a corrupt state official. They restore an entire town to good health by destroying the well of toxic red water they could otherwise have used to make a Philosopher’s Stone. Ed refuses to murder a group of convicted criminals even though he could use their life energy to make the Philosopher’s Stone. They gain a reputation for supporting the innocent and helping the weak. Ed and Al bear a heavy burden, especially for children their age, but they do not shirk their responsibility, devoting themselves to their quest for redemption as many Japanese heroes have done before them.

  Al-Chemy

  Edward and Alphonse draw together three other Japanese heroic archetypes: the young boy struggling for acceptance amongst his older peers; the super-strong boy; and the unthreatening shōjo. These archetypes are interrelated and find a fusion in Al’s character. In the process they are slightly altered but still maintain their essential elements.

  The young boy seeking to find his place in a world of older, more mature children is a common theme in Japanese fiction, as noted by Tom Gill (“Transformational Magic: Some Japanese SuperHeroes and Monsters”). In a way, both Elric brothers are seeking their place. Ed becomes a State Alchemist at the age of twelve, the youngest person ever to achieve such a position. As such, he’s constantly acting as though he is a grown up, while others in the military often comment that he and his brother are still children and should leave dangerous situations to the adults. The Elric brothers refuse to do so, often finding themselves in situations far more dangerous than their elders. The boys’ advanced knowledge of alchemy, gained through intense study, also places them above most of the people they encounter, but still, however much they act like adults, they are only children. Ed is constantly trying to make those in the military see him as an
equal.

  Ironically, Al doesn’t seek to be treated as an adult, but since his soul is attached to a giant suit of armor, people are constantly mistaking him for his older brother, whose codename as a State Alchemist is “Fullmetal.” Unlike his brother, Al automatically achieves recognition as an adult, but he regards this as a mistake and rejects it. In Episode 16, Major Armstrong treats the Elric brothers like children, insisting that they need minding. Ed takes offense, but Al is overjoyed, as it is the first time since losing his human body that someone actually treats him like the child he knows himself to be. Al presents a twist on the young boy who seeks acknowledgement, a result perhaps of the fusion in his character with two other heroic archetypes—the super-strong boy and the shōjo.

  The super-strong boy, like the student hero and wanderer, is strongly rooted in the Japanese heroic tradition. Such boys, like Momotaro the goblin-slayer and Kintaro the Golden Boy, possess incredible strength that is easily the match of the far older and more dangerous villains they face. Emotionally and mentally Al remains eleven-years-old—the age he was when they attempted to resurrect their mother and he lost his body—but his new metal body is almost invulnerable. Like Momotaro he is incredibly strong, and like Kintaro he is skilled in martial arts. Ed comments regularly that he is never able to defeat Al in a fight, and Al often intimidates full-grown men. He is even able to beat up the serial killer Barry the chopper, both when Barry is human and then again after Barry’s soul is also attached to a suit of armor. Even though, as suits of armor, both Al and Barry should be perfectly matched, as neither possesses tendons, bones, or muscles, Al has little trouble defeating his older foe.