The Wave-Motion Gun is not used to kill
Is Space Battleship Yamato militaristic, or not?
This famous line by Susumu Kodai is often cited to disprove the assumption that it is: “We shouldn’t have fought. We should have loved each other.” (Series 1, Episode 24.)
This was a reference to Yamato‘s victory in the battle of Planet Gamilas. Kodai mutters these words in response to the devastation spreading before his eyes, a feeling of regret after the battle. On the other hand, it has been pointed out that his words come out of the blue, and are merely sentimental and hypocritical. The question is whether these words are persuasive.
Criticism of Yamato as militaristic has existed from the very beginning. To be precise, however, this criticism generally arose after the movie was released, which is the film version of Series 1. For example, the following criticism applies to the movie:
“The film is rather suffocatingly Japanese in its sentimentality. The way in which the film heightens the melancholy feeling of a kamikaze movie, reflecting the nostalgia of a war-era filmmaker, makes me want to say, ‘Oh, come on!’ I wanted to know what the future crew of the Yamato would eat, for example. This is just a story of self-indulgence in a man’s value system.”
(Kosei Ono, Kinejun No. 716, September 1997. Read his review here.)
While the first half, which is not quoted here, praises the visual sensibility, the second half is devoted to criticism. Ono declares, “Perhaps not so in the TV version,” so this is a criticism of the film. In fact, meal scenes appeared many times in the TV series. Ono was a leading critic of manga and anime at the time. It would have been negligent of him not to have watched the TV series, which had caused a boom in reruns and shocked the industry to no small extent.
Ryosuke Takahashi, who made his directorial debut on Zerotester for the first time in 1973, was said to have been tormented by a strong inferiority complex after seeing Yamato. These were the days when there were no anime magazines. There were newspaper articles reporting on the boom, but there was no dedicated anime magazine at that time.
However, there were no articles or reviews that fairly evaluated the TV series. The movie version follows the plot and can be said to have filled in the space between dialogue with battles. It is difficult to say that it conveys the essence of Series 1. In fact, the movie was not well-received by fans at the time of its release. When Nippon Broadcasting System broadcast a radio drama with the same cast in December, it focused on the human drama.
As we saw in the previous chapter, Yamato has various elements, including a high school drama. War drama was only one of them. Various elements were slightly altered in the sequels, not just the war drama portion. The following is an analysis of how war and battles were depicted in Series 1, the origin of Yamato.
The greatest weapon in Yamato is the wave cannon (or more precisely, the bow Wave-Motion Gun). Tachyon particles in the wave engine are filled to the limit and pushed out of the bow in a single stroke. These particles, which are not bound by relativity, have the power to distort space-time. By applying this force, you can destroy a target simply by striking at close range, even without hitting it. An asteroid the size of Australia can be obliterated without a trace in a single shot.
However, in Series 1, this weapon was not fired at humans (Gamilas) in principle.
In Episode 5, Yamato fires the Wave-Motion Gun at the Gamilas frontline base on the floating continent in Jupiter’s atmosphere. Instead of destroying only the base, it destroyed the entire continent. The crew was horrified by its power.
Captain Okita warned, “The Wave-Motion Gun is a great power for us. But if used incorrectly, it can be a very destructive weapon. We must be extremely careful when using it in the future.”
In Episode 7, when Yamato was outbound from the solar system, it was decided to attack the Gamilas base on Pluto. Shiro Sanada wonders why the Wave-Motion Guns is not included in the operation. Captain Okita tells him, “There is native life on Pluto. If we fire the Wave-Motion Gun, we will destroy them along with Pluto. We cannot allow the destruction of a planet that is the common property of all life in the solar system.”
He didn’t change his mind, even when Yamato was on the verge of sinking.
Yamato‘s next use of the Wave-Motion Gun comes in Episode 12, when the ship was chased from behind by a gaseous life form released by Gamilas. Electromagnetic barriers around Yamato forced it onto a certain path, directly toward a star. Okita, seeking to snatch life from the jaws of death, attempted to solve the problem by passing close to the surface of the scorching alpha star. A huge pillar of fire (described as a “corona”) appeared in front of Yamato. (The word “corona” was used, but it was probably meant to be “prominence.”)
At that moment, Captain Okita issued a surprising order.
“Kodai, shoot it with the Wave-Motion Gun.”
“What? You want to shoot fire? With a Wave-Motion Gun?”
“Repeat the order!”
Yamato blasted away the column of fire that stood in its way.
The next firing was in Episode 17, toward the conglomerated monster Balanodon. Then in Episode 20, in order to eliminate the artificial sun that was approaching from behind to crush the ship, which was attacking the Gamilas base on the planet Balan. Then in the 24th episode, when Yamato was trapped in the mainland battle on Planet Gamilas.
Okita, who noticed the unstable geology, said to fire it in order to provoke volcanic activity and disrupt the enemy. A catastrophe ensued on Gamilas, but the effect was only intended to slow the momentum of the attack.
The Wave-Motion Gun was not intended for destructive warfare or mass slaughter. In principle, it was used as a resourceful means to achieve a breakthrough. The first time this principle was broken in order to wipe out an enemy fleet was in the battle against Goland in Farewell to Yamato.
Using wisdom to overcome difficulties
Yamato‘s wisdom was also used for protection.
In Episode 9, Yamato is pursued by the Gamilas fleet led by Shulz. At this time, Captain Okita carries out the Asteroid Ship Project at the suggestion of Shiro Sanada. The ship enters the asteroid belt and magnetically attracts rocks to the hull. The ship is camouflaged so that it will not be seen among the surrounding asteroids.
When the enemy discovers their true identity halfway through the operation, the rocks are rotated around the perimeter and used as a defensive screen. Susumu Kodai is frustrated by his inability to go on the offensive against the enemy.
“Why are we doing this?”
Daisuke Shima chides him, “Kodai, we have to be perfect on defense, too. When you think about it, this is what Yamato is meant to be.”
Shulz, cornered by the failure of his previous operation, orders a suicide attack by his entire fleet as a last resort. But Yamato releases the spinning rocks. Gamilas ships are either hit by the flying boulders, or slam into their colleagues’ ships in an attempt to avoid them.
In Episode 11, Yamato‘s path is blocked by a vast network of space mines. At first, Yamato attempts to pass through a gap of about 110 meters between them. However, the mines gradually narrow the gap. Captain Okita realizes that it is too dangerous to continue on. Shiro Sanada and Analyzer launch in a search boat to find and destroy the mine’s control device. But the mines are still closing in on the ship.
“Shima, tilt the ship.”
“Huh?”
“Five degrees to the left.”
“Uh…”
“Didn’t you hear my order, you idiot? Tilt the ship!”
Shima tilts the ship to various angles to avoid contact. Sanada and Analyzer find the control device and dismantle it as quickly as possible. Will Yamato be destroyed by the mines? A tense scene unfolds. Finally, they are able to destroy the control unit and contact with the mines is avoided. But the question remains, how to break through the vast minefield.
“Kodai, take the Black Tiger crew and clear those mines. You’ll have to do it with your own hands.”
“Yes, sir. Huh? With our hands…? ”
“Yes.”
The civilization of Gamilas is so dependent on machines, they developed perfect measures to eliminate their enemies with them. However, their removal by human hands is unexpected. Captain Okita exploits this gap. Although somewhat idyllic in hindsight, this kind of “battle of wits” was a characteristic of Yamato. It was refreshing to see a story that did not rely solely on combat action.
Space Battleship Yamato was born out of the rebirth of the battleship Yamato, but surprisingly, battles did not take up a large amount of weight in the story. This is because, as we saw earlier, the existence of Yamato itself was not at the root of the project, and the basic line of space travel, voyage and adventure was carried over to the final form.
The sample script attached to the third Yamato proposal includes an episode with a spider-like space creature that lures in space travelers with hallucinations to devour them. The original form of such an image might have been inspired by Star Trek. This plot was used in Akira Hio’s manga. With wisdom and courage, you can overcome opponents and difficulties beyond human comprehension. In this work, we see an adventure story of a journey that has been told since the Greek classic Ulysses.
The reality is that Yamato‘s narrative structure is a journey by a man of peace rather than a man of war. It may also reflect the unique social consciousness of postwar Japan, which has upheld a policy of peace and demilitarization.
This is not the exclusive domain of Yamato. Gatchaman was also initially a story about the use of the bird missile, a weapon of mass destruction. The conflict between Ken the Eagle and Condor Joe over the use of bird missiles was often depicted in Gatchaman. The subculture of the time took the killing of people seriously and expressed its weight.
This awareness must have been strengthened by the fact that Space Battleship Yamato revived the battleship Yamato.
The appeal of mecha is not its power but its reality
One of the attractions of Space Battleship Yamato is the depiction of mecha. The most popular mecha, after Yamato itself, is probably the Wave-Motion Gun. However, the secret of its popularity didn’t come from the fact that it could blow up an entire asteroid, which was unheard of at the time, but from the way it was depicted.
Let’s take a look at the process when the Wave-Motion Gun is fired for the first time in Episode 5.
“Power off.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Increase pressure in the engine. Close all emergency valves.”
“Increasing engine pressure. Closing all emergency valves.”
“Open the circuit to the Wave-Motion Gun.”
“Opening the circuit.”
“Wave Gun, pressure in chamber rising.”
“All energy to Wave Gun. Force injector activated.”
“Disengage Wave Gun safety lock.”
“Safety lock zero. Pressure rising to firing point. Final safety released. Pressure at limit.”
“Floating continent confirmed. 10,000 kilometers ahead.”
“Wave Gun ready. Shima, give the controls to Kodai.”
“Kodai, you’ve got it. Make it work.”
“Leave it to me. Aligning the bow with the continent. Target scope, open. Cross gauge brightness to 20.”
“Target speed, 400 space knots.”
“Tachyon particle output increasing.”
“Ten seconds to firing. Take anti-shock, anti-flash defenses.”
“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, fire!”
A little more than two minutes are spent up to this point. As we have already seen, the accumulation of such details is what makes it so convincing. This meticulousness applies not only to weapons such as the main guns, including the Wave-Motion Gun, but also to the navigation system.
The wave engine starts only after the auxiliary engine is first used. The auxiliary engine seems to play the role of energizing the engine, like a cell motor. In addition, a large amount of energy is required to start the engine in a form similar to ignition. Therefore, the engine cannot be started until it is filled with energy.
The flywheel rotates and starts moving only after the connection ignition. (This process was added in the sequel.) Incidentally, the principle of the wave engine is that the inside of the engine is a singularity, and its energy is extracted. There are theories, such as the Dirac sea and dark energy, which claim that a vacuum is filled with negative energy (currently, the theory is contested), and this is probably an application of such a theory.
This operation procedure is also carefully depicted. Let’s take a look at the process in Episode 3. First, energy is gathered from all over the world to ignite the wave engine. However, it takes a long time for the energy to be fully charged.
“Energy 120%.”
“Shima, auxiliary engine start.”
“Yes, auxiliary engine starting. Engine output, 100, 200, 300, 600, 1200, 2000, 2500, 2900, 3000, wave engine circuit connected.”
“Captain, it’s not working!”
“Check it again.”
“Aye, sir. Auxiliary engine, start. Captain, I’m sorry. The interlock switch was turned off.”
“Steady.”
“Auxiliary output 3000, main engine connected.”
“It still doesn’t work!”
“Shut up!”
“Yes, it’s working!”
“It’s working! It’s working!”
“Wave engine engaged.”
“Connect.”
“Connecting. Output power up.”
“Prepare to launch.”
“Preparing to launch.”
“Yamato launch!”
“Yamato launching!”
During the warp test in Episode 4, we see the explanation of the warp, the crew’s nervousness about the test (especially Shima), and their handling of the troubles that come up.
The mecha depiction, which creates reality through the accumulation of such details, can be described as “experiental” in the sense that it appeals to the senses. In comparison, Yoshiyuki Tomino’s mecha depiction in Mobile Suit Gundam can be called “intellectual.” The science-fiction concept of Minofsky particles, the design of mobile suits, and pilot training through computer simulation, are all well known. Therefore, the emphasis is not placed on the detailed depiction of the piloting procedures and the name and role of the engine components. The absence of physical sensation allows the idea of a direct connection between the mind and the machine to emerge, without physical intervention, as in the case of Psychommu.
Tomino was in charge of the storyboard for the “warp test” episode I mentioned earlier. However, he was not satisfied with the script and made a storyboard that was greatly rewritten, infuriating Yoshinobu Nishizaki. In the end, he delivered a storyboard that hewed to the script.
According to Tomino, “The sense of mechanics that Nishizaki’s generation had was too clichéd for me to tolerate.” (Kinejun magazine, 1999)
I assume that he removed Yamato‘s characteristics from his work. As an aside, the ideal work that combines the best of both worlds would be Armored Trooper Votoms (1983).
The experiential depiction in Yamato corresponds to the etiquette of tea ceremony. The ceremony starts not when you drink and taste the tea, but when you arrive at the tea house and pass through the gate. The detailed procedures and etiquette from the entrance to the tea room and drinking the tea are like taking a tip away from your daily life into another world. In order to enter this other world, we need to prepare our hearts. The procedure leading to this other world, and the important elements that make it up, were a method of directing mecha in Yamato.
The strength to never “lose” was passionate
Nevertheless, battle remains an important element for Space Battleship Yamato. So, what is that battle?
Was it a battle of “narcisissm” with the “melancholy of a kamikaze attack”? To answer this question, it is necessary to consider the organization, or rather the community, of Yamato.
The battle of the Rainbow Star Cluster against the Domel fleet, which takes place over episodes 21 and 22, is one of the major highlights of Series 1. Here, for some reason, Captain Okita, who possesses the wisdom of a mythological or folklore hero, is not very clever. He seems to be lagging behind every move made by the enemy and struggles to deal with them. Domel uses his newly-developed instantaneous matter transporter to drive Yamato into a corner with clever tactics. The overwhelming assault and weaponry of Gamilas seem to be the highlight of this episode.
First, they launch fighters to attack Yamato head-on. The Black Tiger squadron responds to the attack. The Gamilas fighters, seeing an opportunity, retreat. The Black Tigers, following their lead, thin out their air defense around Yamato.
Then, Domel moves his dive-bombers to the area to swoop down on Yamato. Yamato suffers a great deal of damage, including the loss of its detection capability. The Black Tiger squadron rushes back, but again, the dive bombers retreat. Again, the Black Tigers thin out the area around Yamato. Domel then transfers the torpedo bombers. This attack destroys most of Yamato‘s armaments.
The usual Yamato phrase is uttered, announcing the damage: “Turret 1 is hit.” The ship’s hull is in a dismal state, with holes in various parts. The armor plates are cracked, and the ship belches smoke and flames. This is where the classic scene of Yamato being damaged by the enemy’s attack comes into being.
Furthermore, a heavy bomber appears in front of Yamato and fires a huge drill missile into its Wave-Motion Gun. This missile penetrates the ship as the drill part rotates, until the detonator is activated. However, Shiro Sanada and Analyzer enter the drill missile and begin to struggle with the control circuits.
Meanwhile, Yamato is still being damaged by the attack, and all of its armaments are destroyed. However, Sanada manages to reverse the rotation of the drill missile and expel it from Yamato. The missile runs backward into the Domel fleet and explodes.
The Domel fleet, which did not expect Yamato‘s counterattack, was in a tight formation. The explosion causes a chian-detonation that wipes out the entire fleet, except for Domel’s flagship.
As a development, it was an opportunistic display that would not be possible now. The explosion of the four carriers is a long, slow panning scene from right to left; gorgeous camera work that is almost unheard of in TV anime.
Finally, Domel’s flagship closes in on the belly of Yamato and self-destructs. The hole is so large that structural material can be seen through the bottom of the ship, and Yamato barely survives. In the end, the victory is due to the enemy’s self-destruction, and it is hardly a spectacular performance by Yamato.
Let’s look at the battle on Planet Gamilas.
Yamato‘s fierce attack on the planet is a self-destructive process that precipitates the planet’s collapse, so to speak. The fall of Dessler’s stronghold is not so much a final blow from Yamato as a defeat in the midst of a melee, and can’t exactly be called exciting.
The main attraction of the film is the way Yamato daringly stands up to the enemy while damaged. The process is that Yamato is as tattered as possible, and the crew collapses. (Though not necessarily dying.) Even in a desperate situation, Yamato uses a deceptive plan to shake the enemy by punching through a volcanic vein while being torn to shreds by bombing and acid corrosion.
Yamato daringly emerges from the sea of magma and concentrated sulfuric acid and flies away with the theme song playing. It is in this scene that the viewer feels catharsis.
I have already pointed out that Yamato has elements of a high school drama. This is, of course, because Yamato is a community. This community is a drifting classroom, so to speak, far away from the earth in the abyss of space. However, this classroom is directly connected to the world’s choice between destruction and survival.
Here, Yamato is equal to the world. This solid equation of Yamato = the world is called “Sekaikei,” which will be born later. The world and one’s own destiny unfold in a closed narrative structure. The expression is that salvation of the world and the individual are equivalent.
Evangelion (1995) is another development of this form. This film has an element of self-enclosure, as if the viewer is locked up in a small room and indulges in solitude.
This may be the reason Yamato is composed entirely of Japanese crew members; to create a closed structure composed of this homogeneous group of people. In today’s sense, a homogeneous structure would be possible even if it were not exclusively Japanese. However, foreigners were not common in those days, and the awareness of foreigners (including those living in Japan) was not high. The symbol of Yamato was the perfect catalyst to unite a homogeneous community.
The fact that Hideaki Anno later chose to have only Japanese people appear in Evangelion and to set it in the small area Tokyo 3 was because he understood the intention of Yamato precisely. Yamato, composed only of homogeneous Japanese, worked well as a hot catharsis of unity, and worked well for the purpose of questioning the world’s problems.
In this sense, the idea that Yamato = Japan = militarism is shortsighted.
The third Yamato proposal states, “Human civilization has been in crisis many times, but each time man has escaped, and has continued to the present day.”
The various crises facing Japan in 1974 come to mind. When Yamato (the community to which the protagonist belongs) is damaged, the viewer who projects himself into it is also hurt. However, we are moved by the way they never give up and never collapse in the pursuit of the “mission to save the Earth.”
Yamato‘s strength is not to win, but to never lose. In this, we find something beyond entertainment. The structure of Series 1 continued in the sequels. The reason the crisis of Earth is emphasized each time is that the story starts from the “apocalyptic” situation of the 1970s. Without this historical background, it is impossible to understand Yamato.
Yamato fiction does not try to have a perspective outside of Japan
To talk about Yamato, or the battleship Yamato, is to talk about the postwar period. In the Japanese Imperial Navy, or in fact the entire world at the time of World War II, the battleship Yamato, along with the Musashi, was the most gigantic battleship of the war. Yamato‘s nine 46-cm-caliber main guns boasted a range of up to 42 kilometers, surpassing the guns of any other ship in the world.
Although Yamato was a symbol of the Imperial Navy, its existence was considered a military secret. It was known only to a few people in the military. In the flashback scene of the second episode, a fisherman witnesses the sortie of the battleship Yamato and says to his child, “That is the Battleship Yamato. That’s a Japanese man’s ship. Watch it carefully so you don’t forget.” This is historically incorrect (unless the fishermen knew about it under special circumstances).
The Battleship Yamato became widely known in the book Requiem for the Battleship Yamato written by Mitsuru Yoshida, a former lieutenant who served aboard the battleship as an assistant telegrapher. In this book, the Battleship Yamato was involved in Operation Ten-Go, a waterborne suicide mission to Okinawa based on the assumption that the ship would not return alive.
The book describes the story of the battleship Yamato from its departure from Kure Military Port to its sinking by the attack of U.S. aircraft. The literary style of the book is reminiscent of military reports and orders. The exuberance of the young men who were on their way to a suicide mission is told in a lively manner.
This document is about 130 pages. Yoshida wrote it in a day or so, as if possessed. It was scheduled to be published in the first issue of Sougen magazine in 1946, but GHQ (General Headquarters of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers) halted its publication.
At the time, Japan was under GHQ occupation, and magazines were not allowed to glorify nationalism, militarism, or communism. The text did not come to light until after the peace treaty was concluded in 1952, i.e., after the occupation of Japan was lifted. Many cultural figures strongly sympathized with this book, including Yukio Mishima, Eiji Yoshikawa, and Hideo Kobayashi. In the early days of the postwar period, militarism was a taboo subject. The frankness of the passion of militaristic youths aroused controversy.
Kike Wadatsumi no Koe [Listen to the Voice of the Sea God] is a story about a young man who feels that war is meaningless. It is a collection of letters and journals written by student soldiers who went on suicide attacks or into battle, knowing that they could not win. The collection is characterized by the sadness expressed in the letters, which are filled with wishes for non-war. Any sentences expressing the sentiments of belligerent soldiers were intentionally deleted.
People at that time were able to supplement the soldiers’ feelings with a sense of the times they were in, but as time went on, those feelings were only conveyed artificially. The historical facts were misrepresented, reported as if the soldiers had no choice but to fight while praying for war to end.
Requiem for the Battleship Yamato makes up for this shortcoming. It succeeds in conveying the true feelings of the soldiers at the time. Shunsuke Tsurumi called this “the dimension of retrospection.” In other words, it vividly depicts a perspective from the war period, not the postwar. However, there is such a thing as embellishment.
The most famous part of the work is the scene in which the officers are arguing about whether there is any meaning to a futile suicide attack. Captain Usufuchi says, “How else can Japan be saved? If we don’t wake up now, when will we be saved? We will lead the way. We will be the first to scatter before the rebirth of Japan. Isn’t that what you really want?”
(Requiem for the Battleship Yamato, Kadokawa Shoten, 1968. The quotation is a colloquial version.)
However, common sense would dictate that it was a battleship in the midst of an operation by the Japanese military at the time, and that the operation itself could not be openly debated. It is common opinion that this is novelistic window dressing. Isn’t this what a prayer from Yoshida’s “dimension of retrospection” would be like?
However, the object of blame for the wrongdoing has disappeared. While recognizing the meaninglessness of battle, the Battleship Yamato was martyred for the sake of the motherland, and the scheme of martyrdom was established at an early stage. It is fair to say that there was an element that reduced the misdemeanors of war to mere tragedy.
Some of those who served in the war, such as Kenzo Okuzaki and Kiyoshi Watanabe, came to a fundamental critique of the Japanese empire and the emperor system. Watanabe’s The Last Days of the Battleship Musashi (Asahi Shimbun, 1971) presents a battlefield reality without the exuberance of an officer. It is the opposite of Requiem for the Battleship Yamato. This also suggests an interesting theme: the difference between the images of Musashi and Yamato.
In 1956, four years after the earlier book’s publication, the Japanese government issued a white paper on the economy. “It is no longer postwar,” the paper proclaimed. Many felt that Japan had recovered economically, and that the war had faded away. Then, in the early 1960s, Weekly Shōnen Sunday, Weekly Shōnen Magazine, and others began to publish illustrations of World War II weaponry (mainly Japanese) and manga about the war. This was rather safe consumption, indicating that the rawness of the war was fading.
Few visual works (fiction) featured the battleship Yamato. As for movies, there were Battleship Yamato (directed by Yutaka Abe) in 1953, The Imperial Navy (directed by Shue Matsubayashi) in 1981, and Men of Yamato (directed by Junya Sato) in 2005. Each of these films was a major hit. The reason for the low frequency of productions is probably that films about the battleship Yamato tend to be avoided because of the huge production costs involved.
The Imperial Navy inherits Mitsuru Yoshida’s strengths and weaknesses, especially the latter. Most of the characters are officers. As in Requiem for the Battleship Yamato, the story is told from an officer’s point of view. At the beginning of the film, there is a scene in which an officer speaks out against starting the war, emphasizing the infallibility of the Navy. This also alleviates the Japanese conscience. The men accept death for the sake of their country and become martyrs for the sake of their loved ones. There is no airiness or noise in the aesthetics of destruction depicted there, only a blank narcissism.
In Men of Yamato, the focus is more on the junior officers. The main character, Chief Petty Officer 2nd Class Shohachi Moriwaki, is a cook. He expresses his frustration at the unreasonable war, and is likable, which is quite different from The Imperial Navy. However, it is still a tragedy with a heightened sense of helplessness. There is no questioning of the causes of the war itself, or of outside perspectives such as those of the American or Asian enemies.
For example, there is no mention of a Japanese American from California named Ensign Nakatani, who was a radio operator on the battleship Yamato. His younger brother was an enlisted man in the U.S. Army, and he was a second generation Japanese-American. (Or should I say American-Japanese?) His younger brother is said to have served in the U.S. Army as a non-commissioned officer on the European front.
By utilizing this character, we could make a great war movie that is composed of multiple perspectives from Japan and the United States. Or, perhaps, a film could be made about volunteer soldiers from Korea, a colony occupied by the Japanese Empire at the time. (Conscription in Korea formally began in 1944 near the end of the war.) This would add an Asian perspective to the story that would question Japan’s wars. Inevitably, a narcissistic view of history from the Japanese point of view is attached to the battleship Yamato.
What about a fictional story about Yamato that takes a leap from reality?
Battleship Yamato, the hero of science-fiction
The battleship Yamato was a symbol not only of nostalgia for the old Japanese military, but also a hero of juvenile novels.
The acceptance of war manga at the beginning of 1960 had a foundation in earlier literature. The first of these was the science-fiction and adventure novels produced before and during World War II. Haruno Oshikawa, Juzo Unno, and Minetaro Yamanaka are representative examples.
Rather than taking place in the future, as many such novels are today, they were characterized by being set against the backdrop of the military power of the Japanese empire. Even so, there is a consideration not to give specific names for “a certain country.”
In Oshikawa’s Undersea Warships series, there is not only an all-powerful submarine, but also an airborne battleship. It was set in the South Seas, which was linked to (or influenced by) Japan’s policy of southward expansion. The work was made into a movie by Toho after the war (Atragon, 1963), with the story changed from its original form to a battle between the invincible aerial battleship Goten-go, built by remnants of the Japanese military, and the Mu Empire.
After the war, science-fiction and adventure novels lost the backdrop of the Japanese empire. They were set in outer space, or the future. Such stories were supported by Shigeru Komatsuzaki’s illustrations. He became a painter after being fascinated with warships and airplanes since childhood, and began to draw illustrations for a general science magazine called Kikaika (Mechanization), first published in 1937.
This magazine was in high demand among boys who loved science at that time. Komatsuzaki was a great admirer of rocket tanks and other such machines. Everything he drew was in response to the mobilization for war, but his works captured the hearts and minds of young boys who dreamed of mechanical and scientific progress. Many consider him to be a pioneer of Japanese science-fiction. He also produced war paintings that raised wartime prestige, and was praised by Tsuguharu Fujita.
After the war, Komatsuzaki continued to apply the skills he had cultivated to fantasy, science-fiction, and adventure novels. In the 1960s, his war stories gained a huge following. He also demonstrated his skills in the box art for plastic models, but his specialty was the battleship Yamato.
One day, he was asked what Yamato meant to him. He replied, “It is an eternal longing. It is an eternal mystery.” (Keisuke Nemoto, The Extraordinary Painter Shigeru Komatsuzaki paperback edition, Kohinsha, 2000)
He had no way of knowing about the existence of Yamato during the war, but afterward, he learned about the huge battleship, which crystallized the dreams of science that he had held in his youth, and he poured his passion into it.
The Yamato depicted by these writers may have been nostalgia for the old Japanese army, but it also functioned as a perfect symbol for the heroic nature of adventure stories. Fittingly, Komatsuzaki also painted the box art for the first Space Battleship Yamato plamodel.
In 1961, in the midst of a “boom” period, a children’s novel with the flavor of a fantasy science novel was published. The story was titled New Battleship Yamato (published in Hinomaru) by Ikki Kajiwara. It was later adapted into a manga.
The story is about a former Yamato crewman, Takeo Okita (!) a shipbuilding colonel. When Yamato sinks, he is rescued by Dr. Killer, who forces him to rebuild the battleship. However, when he learns of Killer’s ambition to conquer the world, he turns against it. This new battleship Yamato flies. The following quotes and descriptions are from the novel version:
“Even with all the advances in science, no country in the world has yet built a battleship that can match Yamato.”
Dr. Killer is described as “a villain with a terrifyingly large organization that seeks to undermine Japan-U.S. relations,” and postwar Japan’s relationship with the U.S. is affirmed in its entirety. Okita, who becomes the captain of the new battleship Yamato, tells the story.
“The new battleship Yamato was not built for the purpose of war. Yamato is a messenger of peace. The only enemy Yamato fights against is the enemy of peace.”
The story has some old-fashioned self-sacrificing scenes (a characteristic of adventure stories of the time), but the overall tone is one of good versus evil, and simple adventure action.
It is similar to Toho Pictures’ Atragon in the sense that it is a junction of both prewar and postwar affirmations. Considering the circumstances surrounding the birth of Yamato, as we have seen so far, there is no causal relationship between New Battleship Yamato and this film. However, there are similarities, such as the appeal for peace even while fighting.
This may have been a kind of code for Japanese people to contemplate Yamato until a certain time after the war. And while it is necessary for Yamato to be heroic, it was probably also a condition for it to be perceived as a catalyst.
[Translator’s note: read MUCH more about New Battleship Yamato here.]
Keisuke Fujikawa’s goal of aiming between fiction and historical fact
Although Space Battleship Yamato accidentally arose from Space Battleship Cosmo or Asteroid 6 (early working titles), there is no doubt that the imprint of World War II is definitely there in the work.
In the decisive battle of the Rainbow Star Cluster in episodes 21-22, Yamato is attacked by fighter planes, dive bombers, and torpedo bombers. Since these types of warplanes were also used in the attack by the U.S. forces that sunk Yamato in Operation Ten-Go, it is clearly an imitation of this event.
Furthermore, at the beginning of the first episode, the destroyer Yukikaze appears in the Earth Defense Fleet and is sunk. This is based on the destroyer Yukikaze, which accompanied Operation Ten-Go (though Yukikaze survived until after the war).
In Space Battleship Yamato, World War II is not only a worldview and a historical situation, it incorporates mecha from a different dimension. When a fighter launches from Gamilas’ aircraft carrier, it drops for a moment. This would not be possible in zero G with no up or down.
At that time, unlike today, there were very few science-fiction stories set in space. This was the first full-scale space battle on TV. The question was how to excite the viewers. The series simulates real battles, such as World War II, as much as possible to create a foothold in reality and make it easy to get into.
“Space Battleship Yamato is a story set 200 years in the future, so ultra-modern fighters come out, but actual dive bombers in the film use the same techniques as in World War II battles. This brings a reality to it that modern people can connect to.”
(Yoshinobu Nishizaki, Kinejun #717, September 1977. Read the full interview here.)
As we saw earlier, Toshio Masuda also said, “I want you to depict fighter planes and battleships as in a realistic theatrical movie.” This may have overlapped with Nishizaki’s intention.
In Episode 7, there is a scene in which Yamato sinks in the methane ocean of Pluto. This may be a homage to the battleship Yamato, but it may also be a way to sublimate a familiar historical fact into space entertainment.
On the other hand, Leiji Matsumoto also included an homage to the Battleship Yamato in his production notes. Although it is somewhat contradictory, he said, “We talked a lot about making this a space story and doing everything possible not to confuse it with a story about military history.”
(Fantoche Vol. 2, April 1976. Read the full interview here.)
It can be said that Yamato is a subtle blending of these conflicting “upper” intentions during the production stage.
Scriptwriter Keisuke Fujikawa stated, “While writing scripts for Space Battleship Yamato, I secretly developed a certain methodology. I was in between those who emphasized realism and those who emphasized leaps and bounds. I came up with this methodology by neutralizing the two. In other words, just as the reality of Space Battleship Yamato was based on the actual battles and strategies of World War II, I decided to use the ancient history of Japan, as I did in my novel.”
(Keisuke Fujikawa, Anime: The Birth of the Anime & Tokusatsu Hero, Nesco, 1998)
The novel Fujikawa was referring to is his bestseller Prince of Space (Kadokawa Shoten, 1984), which became the forerunner of today’s light novels. It is the story of the extraordinary adventures of Yaku Ozunu, the founder of Shugendo, who lived from the Asuka to the Nara period (710-794). [Translator’s note: this novel was adapted into the anime Utsunomiko in 1989.]
It seems the production method of Yamato had a great influence on the structure of subsequent subculture works, such as light novels.
The gap between fictional war stories and the consciousness of the original Yamato crew
Mitsuru Yoshida, who wrote Requiem for the Battleship Yamato, left behind a comment about Space Battleship Yamato.
He wrote, “There is no trace of the inescapable anguish of those who were forced to fight, or the raw indignation of those led into self-sacrifice. The beating of children’s hearts and the tears that trickle down their cheeks have nothing to do with the empty deaths of the kamikaze pilots, but are innocent, transparent sentiments.”
(Mitsuru Yoshida, The Space Battleship Yamato Generation, Bungeishunju, July 1991)
This was mainly a statement about Farewell to Yamato rather than Series 1. Furthermore, Yoshida wrote, “As for myself, I have never paid much attention to the shape and performance of Yamato as a warship.”
The painter Shigeru Komatsuzaki is also a member of the pre-war school, but there is a significant gap in consciousness here. However, this is probably how people who have experienced the battlefield really feel. Let me quote a comment by Kazuhiro Fukumoto, a former Yamato crew member, from a newspaper article:
“A generation that has never known war may have a kind of longing for Space Battleship Yamato. The shipbuilding technology developed during the war was greatly utilized in the postwar industry. I understand that, but I don’t want them to see Yamato as a hero.”
When it is proclaimed that “Today’s peace is based on sacrifices like Yamato‘s,” Fukumoto responds, “Yamato did not play an active role at all. There were only ridiculous suicide attacks.”
(Asahi Shimbun, May 24, 2006, Osaka local edition/Hiroshima edition).
His view of the war differs slightly from Yoshida’s. Even if they were on the same ship, there is naturally a range of views from one person to another. And war films about the Battleship Yamato, whether negative or positive, inevitably run head-on into nationalism or militarism. Rather, the Battleship Yamato has become a kind of hero in the plamodel and adventure genre for people like Komatsuzaki who never served in the military, or by the younger generation who have no war experience.
What about Space Battleship Yamato? In 1974, war experience was becoming more and more rare. By this point, nearly 40% of the population had been born after the war. The regeneration of the space battleship from the naval battleship may have been a fictional reality, like the transformation of an ancient stone statue into a monster, rather than historical fact come to life.
This sense of distance created by the fossilization of time paradoxically made it possible to establish it as entertainment and attract a great deal of support. The success of Yamato may have been one of the triggers for fictional war stories that are still popular today. These stories are set in World War II, so we are forced to evaluate the war that Japan fought. Space Battleship Yamato is set in the future, so there is no need to refer to it directly. That is a big difference.
Early fictional war stories include Yoshiaki Hiyama’s well-known The Battle of the Japanese Mainland (Kobunsha, 1981) and Yoshio Aramaki’s The Blue Fleet (Tokuma Shoten, 1985), which was made into an anime. In each of these works, a fictional super-weapon that does not exist in historical fact is used to depict an impossible reversal of fortune. In this way, we can see narcissistic nationalism in the avoidance of defeat and affirmation of the Japanese empire.
Compared to the early days, recent fictional war stories have evolved for more diverse content, combining historical “ifs” with political fiction. These novels are thought experiments that depict a postwar period that is different from the reality.
Even in novels where the Battleship Yamato appears, such as Daisuke Sato’s Conquest (Tokuma Shoten, 1993), Japan becomes a divided nation after its defeat in the war. Nobuyoshi Yokoyama’s Big Y, The Postwar History of the Battleship Yamato (Bestsellers, 1997) is a story of the itinerant history of the battleship Yamato after it gets incorporated into the U.S. military after the war. The contents are quite varied.
In particular, Sato’s Conquest includes a character named Sasha, and brothers named Mamoru and Susumu. They are homages not only to the battleship Yamato but also to Space Battleship Yamato, which was already a classic at the time.
Ryuji Nakazato’s Dragon God Fleet (Cosmic Publishing, 2004) is set in a fictional history in which the dinosaur empire of 640 million years ago slipped through time and formed an alliance with the Japanese empire. Shinji Yoshida’s Blood Fight Absolute National Defense Zone (Ginga Shuppan, 2004) is a story about four shrine maiden sisters of the Hoshikage Shrine on the island of Saipan who are active on a disguised cruiser, the Valkyrie. All of these stories are pure fantasy.
At one time, the conservative or right-wing ideology of fictional war stories was discussed. However, with recent diversification and a trend toward fantasy, it makes little sense to directly connect them with real politics.
It is a fair argument to point out that it’s inappropriate to treat the wars of the past as fiction, including in Yamato. However, if historical facts inevitably fade with the passage of time, such denials do not resonate with strong persuasive power. It is important to take the right attitude toward war, even if it is in the form of rereading the war of the past.
In other words, there is a need for a postmodern rereading. I believe Yamato played an important role as a pioneer in the process of transforming historical facts into legends and myths as they faded away.
The Decisive Battle of the Rainbow Star Cluster:
Human Empathy that Transcends Friend and Foe
Does Space Battleship Yamato depict war as Japanese nationalism, or simply as entertainment? To find the answer to this question, we need to look again at the decisive battle of the Rainbow Star Cluster.
At the end of the battle in Episode 22, the unexpected destruction of the Domel fleet occurs when the drill missile runs in reverse. The flagship Domelus II, the only ship left in the fleet, is lightly armed and unable to finish off Yamato despite her wounds. Domel decides to self-destruct, attaching his ship to Yamato‘s belly.
He sends a message to Yamato‘s captain Okita: “I sincerely admire your courage, determination, and wisdom.”
“Commander Domel, we have both fought for our respective planets. But I do not wish to see any more sacrifices made. Let us go to Iscandar.”
Captain Okita had conducted a survey of the enemy base before that, and learned that the Gamilas had invaded Earth in order to migrate from their dying home planet, and that they had done so out of necessity. He knows the enemy’s internal situation and says he wants to stop fighting and coexist if possible. He is usually a quiet man, but this is his most passionate statement in the entire story.
“I can’t do that. Captain Okita, just as you are fighting to save the earth, my fight is for the fate of Gamilas. I will not let Yamato go to Iscandar even if it costs me my life.”
“But, Commander Domel…”
“I am honored to meet a brave man like you. Glory to the planet Gamilas and to the great Earth.”
At this point, we see Domel’s hand on the self-destruct mechanism, and then the screen shuts off. He would not do this if he wanted to take out as many of his enemies as possible. This implies that he is going to blow himself up, and that everyone should evacuate. Moreover, this self-destruct mechanism has a grace period of 30 seconds before it ignites. Domel himself tolerates Yamato. He also knows that Gamilas’s ideology and regime will never allow coexistence with Earth.
This sequence is often taken as common sympathy between those who fight, but it has a much stronger meaning. It is a view of human empathy based on thorough knowledge of the other’s position.
In Episode 13, Yamato captures a Gamilas prisoner. Kodai, who lost his parents in the war, is driven by passion and tries to kill him with a scalpel. But when the captive is frightened and finally resigns himself to committing suicide, Kodai discovers that he is dealing with someone like himself. Here, there is a recognition that the enemy is also human, and a breakthrough in trying to understand the other person.
At this time in the postwar era, virtually no story about the Battleship Yamato looked outside of Japan. There were only stories by Japanese people about Japanese people. Space Battleship Yamato was the exception.
Planet Beemela denounces colonialism
Based on the naming and uniform designs of Hyss, Domel, and Goer. Gamilas was inspired by Nazi Germany. The reality, however, is a bit more complicated.
Initially, Yamato‘s enemy was named Rajendora, but was changed to Gamilas at the suggestion of Leiji Matsumoto. Gamilas was taken from the novel Carmilla the Vampire written by Le Fanu. This novel was made into a movie in 1961 under the title Blood and Roses.
At first, the leader of Gamilas was to be named after a vampire, but was settled as Dessler. The early design drawings are not so much of a dictator as of a vampire from C.L. Moore’s gothic horror science-fiction novels, which Matsumoto illustrated. (Shown above)
Dessler’s name, according to Matsumoto, is not based on Hitler, but rather comes from “Death” + “Ra” (sun). (Comic GON! No. 2. Read the interview here.)
Beemela people are the humanoid life form that appears in Series 1, and they are different from Earthlings, Gamilas, and Iscandarians. Their body shape, including hands and feet, is not so different from that of Earthlings, but their appearance is like a combination of ants and bees. Their society is ruled by a queen, and their only weapons are bow guns and bone knives. Their customs are like those of an uncivilized tribe. Their entire planet is covered with jungle.
This description reminds us of the southern islands, which were known for their matriarchal societies. The Pacific Ocean, where imperialist powers ruled and the former Japanese empire also advanced, may have been the inspiration for this story.
In Episode 16, Yamato approaches Planet Beemela because vegetable food stocks are running low, so they stop for replenishment. Yuki Mori, the leader of the Life Group, and Analyzer, an analysis robot, are dispatched to investigate. Here, they are captured by the Beemela people.
Beemela is under the rule of Gamilas, and they are obliged to pay royal jelly as a tax. This royal jelly is extracted from the bodies of Beemela people. The queen, instead of consolidating her power against Gamilas, sacrifices the lives of her people. However, there is resistance from those dissatisfied with her rule.
It is these revolutionaries who capture Yuki and Analyzer. They mistake them for Gamilas and want to use them as political tools for bargaining with the queen. Analyzer understands the intentions of the Beemela people, but there is no dialogue between the two sides.
Analyzer says, “It’s so cruel. They’re like bees. Royal jelly is used as a stimulant for humans. So…”
Yuki interrupts Analyzer at this point. He seems about to recommend “harvesting” royal jelly made from the living blood of Beemela people, since it would be a valuable foodstuff.
The leader confronts the queen with his hostages, decrying the injustice of Gamilas’ rule.
“Down with Gamilas! Step down, queen!”
The leader is caught off guard and killed by the queen. A riot breaks out between the people and the queen’s guards. Yuki and Analyzer can only watch from the sidelines.
Meanwhile, Yamato destroys a Gamilas transport ship approaching the planet. However, this was because Gamilas was a hostile nation against Earth, not for the sake of the planet. It was for Yamato‘s convenience. Earth’s justice and Beemela’s (the people’s) justice did not intersect until the very end.
In the midst of the riot, Susumu Kodai and his team rescue Yuki and Analyzer. They are attacked by Beemela people who thought they were Gamilas.
Saburo Kato protests, “We’re not Gamilas. We’re from Earth. Don’t make a mistake!”
Yuki, however, harshly criticizes him.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s Gamilas or Earthlings! They have the right to live peacefully without anyone’s interference! Don’t play innocent! We came to steal their vegetables, too!”
To the locals, Earthlings who meddled in the affairs of Planet Beemela for the sake of convenience were essentially no different from the Gamilas. Yuki Mori points out Saburo Kato’s hubris.
The end of the 19th century was the age of imperialism. Under the guise of “self-defense,” Japan deployed troops to the Korean peninsula to fight against the Qing and Russian empires. Under the lofty name of the “Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere,” Japan carried out large-scale military campaigns under the guise of liberating colonies in various parts of Asia. However, this was for the convenience of Japan alone, and the reality was invasion itself.
Korea was annexed by Japan. In Indonesia, which was supposed to be liberated, huge numbers of people were pushed into forced labor and overworked because of Japan’s military actions. The word “Romusha” was handed down to later generations.
Yamato‘s 16th episode is reminiscent of the social situation in Japan, Europe, and the southern United States through the first half of the 20th century. It is a clear critique not only of the West but also of the former Japanese empire.
There is another outside perspective in this work. It is from Analyzer. Although he is a robot, he is in love with Yuki Mori. Naturally, he is unilaterally rejected. When he is captured by the Beemela people, he tells Yuki, “My body is metal, and it’s certainly tougher than yours. So I’ll fight for you until I die. I won’t let them kill you.”
Yuki Mori believes his sincerity and embraces him. However, when she is rescued, she jumps into Kodai’s arms. Analyzer looks at her forlornly. The Beemela people beat him with clubs and are surprised by his toughness.
“A monster!”
Analyzer chuckles to himself.
“No, I’m not a human being. I am a robot.”
Here, there is a third point of view, different from that of the Earthlings and the Beemelans. When combined with the scene in which Analyzer observes the Beemela people as “raw material for royal jelly,” it is clear that the two groups have their own standpoints and values, highlighting the difficulty and impossibility of dialogue and understanding.
In Yamato, the story is told from several viewpoints: Earthlings, Gamilas, Iscandar, Beemela, and Analyzer. Justification is presented for each, and justice is relativized. This accumulation brings to life the words I quoted at the beginning of this chapter.
“We shouldn’t have fought. We should have loved each other.”
Along with the homage to World War II, there is the strange coexisting criticism of both colonialism and the former Japanese empire. This is a characteristic of Yamato.