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I I A S N E W S L E T T E R # 4 7 S p r i n g 0 0 8
R E S E A R C H
Chris Goto-Jones
T
he term ‘science fiction’ is of relatively
recent origin, apparently coined by the
genre-legend Hugo Gernsback in an edi-
torial to his new magazine, Science Won-
der Stories, in 1929. Nine years later the
magazine changed its name to Astounding
Science-Fiction, and thus the name entered
history. However, throughout the 1920s
and 1930s there were a plethora of com-
peting terms: pseudo-scientific, weird-
science, and Gernsback’s own early favour-
ite ‘scientifiction.’
Fiction that would eventually become
labelled as ‘science fiction’ (or ‘sci-fi’)
had been in existence for at least a cen-
tury before. Convention dictates that the
first piece of sci-fi was Mary Shelley’s
gothic masterpiece, Frankenstein (1818),
although the reasons for this origination
are far from uncontested. For some, it is
enough to say that Frankenstein is the earli-
est text that still exists within what Damien
Broderick (Reading by Starlight, 1995) has
called the ‘megatext’ of modern sci-fi (that
is, within the set of stories that define lit-
eracy in the genre). For others, the issue
is not conventional but thematic: sci-fi
is about technology and mechanisation,
necessarily a product of modernity and of
the industrial revolution. Accordingly, the
19th century works of Shelley, HG Wells
and Jules Verne should be read along side
Nietzsche’s proclamations about the death
of god, Max Weber’s account of the ‘iron
cage’ of modern bureaucratic machinery
and Martin Heidegger’s stand against the
self-alienation of Being in the face of the
imperialism of technology.
Science fictional Japan:
In other words, sci-fi is the literature of the
hopes and anxieties of industrial moderni-
ty, and it should come as no surprise that
other industrial societies have produced
their own ‘weird-science.’ Indeed, Japan’s
relationship with sci-fi began in its so-called
‘age of machines’ (kikai jidai) in the early
20th century with the work of writers such
as Mizushima Niou and Yumeno Kyûsaku,
who were writing contemporaneously
with social critics and philosophers strug-
gling with the problematics of modernity
and its overcoming (kindai no chôkoku).
Already in the late 1920s, Japanese writ-
ers (and scientists) were envisioning
robots or jinzô ningen (artificial people),
and stories about them (including some
claims to have invented them) appeared
in popular science magazines in the 1920s
and 1930s; at this time, such stories would
have been labelled as kûsô kagaku (imagi-
nary science). It was not until the post-war
period that the English terms ‘SF’ or ‘sci-fi’
entered popular usage.
Historians of Europe as well as Japan
will be quick to notice that this period
corresponds approximately to what Eric
Hobsbawm has called the Age of Empire
(1989), in which the so-called Great Pow-
From science fictional Japan
to Japanese science fiction
Science fiction provides us with more than a glimpse of futurist visions, it allows us to probe questions of cultural history,
politics and socio-economic change in societies. Chris Goto-Jones reveals his fascination for this sub-culture and Japan’s
long and mutating relations with ‘weird-science’.
ers established and consolidated imperial
rule across the globe. It is interesting to
reflect that one of the other central, the-
matic concerns of sci-fi is often considered
to be the encounter with difference, and
occasionally with either the mystification
or the demonisation of difference. In other
words, sci-fi can be read as a thread in the
weaves of colonialism and orientalism.
Indeed, in recent years much of the most
sophisticated work on sci-fi has come from
the standpoint of post-colonialism. From
this perspective, we see the beginnings of
the creation of a science fictional Japan, as
well as the coincident birth of science fic-
tion in Japan.
The engagement of Western sci-fi with the
East Asian ‘other’ in the first half of the
20th century (and then again during the
years around the Vietnam War) is clearly
informed by a kind of reactionary and anx-
ious frontier-spirit. Classic comic-strips
such as Philip Francis Nowlan’s Buck Rog-
ers in 25
th
Century (the first US sci-fi comic
strip, starting on 7 January 1929) and Alex
Raymond’s Flash Gordon (beginning 7
January 1934) show America being over-
run by the Red Mongols, and pit the all-
American hero (Flash Gordon is quarter-
back of the New York Jets) against an evil
(Chinese) Emperor Ming the Merciless of
planet Mongo. However, perhaps the most
remarkable of these pre-war texts is the
Sixth Column (1949) by Robert Heinlein,
which was originally serialised in Astound-
ing Science-Fiction in January, February
and March of 1941 (nine months before
Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor). Heinlein
depicts the invasion of the US by a force of
‘PanAsians,’ whom he identifies as a mix
of Japanese and Chinese. The Americans
defend themselves through recourse to a
special ‘ray weapon’ that could be adjusted
so that it would only damage people of a
specific race. In many ways, Heinlein’s
novel is an intriguing window into Ameri-
can fears about Japan’s imperial expansion
and its proposed Co-Prosperity Sphere.
As one of the most influential voices in
American sci-fi, Heinlein’s portrayal of the
‘PanAsiatics’ has been extremely contro-
versial, variously condemned and praised
for its engagement with the volatile race-
politics of the time. On the one hand,
critics have accused Heinlein himself of
buying into American chauvinism and
anti-Japanese propaganda during the early
1940s. On the other hand, Heinlein and
others have argued that his purpose was
anti-racist, and that his text was an attack
on Japanese and US racism at the time.
Whatever the actual force of this book, the
historical interest of Sixth Column vastly
outweighs its literary quality, which even
Heinlein himself lamented.
These sci-fi classics from the early 20th
century illustrate very well the ways in
which science fiction was a symbolic
genre or a metaphorical discourse from
its inception. Heinlein’s transparency in
his depiction of the Japanese as Japanese,
rather than as aliens from another galaxy
with suspiciously Japanese or Chinese
sounding names, was actually rather unu-
sual. The tendency in sci-fi is to re-figure
the encounter with the ‘other’ in terms
of the encounter with the literally alien.
Of course, the question of race politics
within sci-fi has attracted a wide critical
literature. In the post-war period, Samuel
R. Delany would become a leading figure
in this field, using his own science fiction
(and sci-fi criticism) to explore and chal-
lenge questions of identity and difference,
of exploration and conquest, of autonomy
and assimilation. His 1967 Nebula Award
winning novel, The Einstein Connection,
has become a classic of its kind.
In the post-war period, however, it gradu-
ally became clear that the representation
of Japan in science fiction did not have to
orbit around negative racial stereotypes.
No longer a military threat, Japan began
to recapture some of the romantic mys-
tery that it had once enjoyed in European
eyes, such as in the work of Jonathan Swift
(Gulliver’s Travels, 1826), whose archetypal
explorer, Gulliver, famously travelled to the
mystical land of Japan with a special letter
of introduction from the king of Luggnagg,
with whom Japan was apparently allied in
the 18th century! By the time of the New
Wave movement of the 1970s, Asia was
already an explicit source of inspiration
for the mystical futurities of the West, and
1980s cyberpunk placed the technologi-
cally thriving, contemporary Japan into the
fictive futures of Europe and the US. In
other words, whilst the fictions had slip-
streamed from negative to positive, Japan
remained science fictional.
Science fictional Japan in the
post-war world:
In the years immediately following the end
of the Second World War, anxiety about the
emerging Cold War was clear in the so-
called ‘Golden Age of Science Fiction.’ In
1949, George Orwell’s masterpiece Nine-
teen Eighty-Four was published, in which
the fictional nation of Eastasia is identi-
fied as one of the three superpowers of
the dystopian future. In general the 1950s
and 1960s are marked by intense political
activism and by scepticism about the abil-
ity of technology to solve all problems, and
this agenda is played out in the sci-fi of the
time.
Central to these problematics was the
horror of wartime technology, culminat-
ing in the atomic bombings of Hiroshima
and Nagasaki in August 1945. A common
theme in Anglo-American sci-fi became
anxiety over a loss of humanity and the
potential collapse of civilisation triggered
by the pursuit of technological advance-
ment. Three of the most acclaimed sci-fi
novels of all time, Isaac Asimov’s Founda-
tion (1951), Frank Herbert’s Dune (1965),
and Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land
(1961), all appeared in this period. As we
will see, the a-bombs also played a central
role in the development of sci-fi in post-war
Japan, albeit in a radically different way;
the classic monster film, Gojira (1954) by
Honda Ishirô, will become emblematic.
By the end of the 1960s and into the 1970s,
however, there was a real turning of the
tide. The so-called ‘New Wave’ of sci-fi
shifted the attention of authors and read-
ers away from the technology-driven glo-
ries (and anxieties) of ‘outer-space’ and
towards the complex, human concerns of
‘inner-space.’ During this period there was
a real focus on challenging social and cul-
tural taboos, on radical political stances,
and on heightened literary quality. Leading
lights in the UK and the US were Michael
Moorcock, Brian Aldiss, Roger Zelazny,
and of course Samuel R. Delany (although
some of these figures rejected the label).
One of the intriguing aspects of the New
Wave was the way in which it re-appropri-
ated and re-signified Asia; like many of
the other cultural movements of the time,
the New Wave was fascinated by spiritual
aspects of Asian culture, such as Zen (DT
Suzuki established his Zen Centre in Cali-
fornia during the 1960s), Indian mysticism
(just as the Beatles travelled to India in
1968), and the freshly politicised nature of
Tibetan Buddhism. Indeed, Kingsley Amis
famously condemned the New Wave for its
fixation on stylistic innovation and for its
persistent recourse to (what he called) Ori-
ental religions and spirituality. Zelazny’s
Lord of Light (1967) might be indicative.
Gojira (1954) movie frame.
Image used to promote Nippon 2007.