What
Pokémon, Japanese Schoolgirl Punks, and Cocaine Have in Common
There
wouldn’t be Pikachu without kawaii, Japan’s highly addictive cult
of cuteness.
BY SOPHIE KNIGHTJULY
18, 2016
There’s a simple
answer to the question of why the Pokémon Go mobile game has proved
so addictive: It’s that Pokémon are designed to be addictively
cute. The millions of people running around trying to catch animated
critters are the latest victims of a cult of cute — a cult that,
like Pokémon itself, has its origins in Japan. And it’s to Japan
that we must look if we want to understand the cult’s darker
undercurrents.
Pokémon is a
franchise of the Pokémon Company, which is partially owned by the
Japanese multinational Nintendo. It is also part of a long tradition
of the “kawaii,” or “cute,” aesthetic in modern Japanese
culture that has given birth to things like the emojis on your phone
and the animal onesies you might have considered wearing to a costume
party.
An embodiment of
everything endearingly childlike, kawaii has been embraced by the
Japanese government as one of its main cultural exports and the
linchpin of its “soft power” strategy. With Pokémon Go, kawaii
is continuing its relentless incursion into American culture.
What makes Pikachu
and his friends so irresistible? The most basic answer is found in
evolutionary psychology. When humans see something that resembles a
baby ― big eyes, large head, floppy or shortened limbs, a clumsy
walk ― it triggers a feeling of euphoria in the pleasure center of
the brain (the same part of the brain, incidentally, that is
stimulated by food, sex, and drugs like cocaine). This feeling
motivates humans to get closer to and interact with the cute object.
In the past, that instinct ensured that humans nurtured and protected
babies, helping to perpetuate the species.
Today, of course, it
is also imploring us to play with the big-eyed, round-bodied
creatures of Pokémon. Every time we do so, we’re pressing the
brain’s “cute” receptors and being rewarded with a relaxing hit
of opioid-like happy hormones. It’s the same flood of happy
hormones that explains why, at times of stress, you might turn for
relief to online images of kittens or stumbling baby pandas on
YouTube.
But, brain chemistry
and GIF coding aside, it’s impossible to explain the rise of cute
culture without Japan. Pokemon’s kawaii aesthetic is itself a
reaction to traditional Japanese culture, which emphasizes
responsibility, fortitude and self-restraint. For Japanese people in
search of an alternative culture – or unconsciously in need of one
— kawaii represents a form of indulgent escapism. Those who feel
stressed by brutally long working hours, uncaring bosses, or an
unhappy home life can receive brief mental respite from kawaii credit
cards, bento, and even dish sponges. In recognition of its appeal,
the Japanese government has appointed kawaii ambassadors to spread
the trend around the world.
Kawaii culture was
not always so mainstream, however. It emerged as a schoolgirl
rebellion in the 1970s, Japan’s corollary to British punk culture.
Teenage girls adopted childish handwriting and baby-speak and wore
cutesy clothing as a way of disobeying their teachers’ ― and
wider society’s ― will to mold them into responsible, mature, and
serious adults, according to anthropologist Sharon Kinsella.
Unlike Western
teenagers, who usually rebel by adopting attitudes and habits beyond
their years ― smoking, drinking, piercings, and tattoos ― to try
to break away from parental and societal authority, Japanese
teenagers acted like children to postpone the bleakness of adulthood
and its accompanying stresses and remain in a Peter Pan-like idyll
forever.
What started as
rebellion, however, has now become the status quo. Japan has come a
long way from the early tentative efforts by companies like Sanrio,
the maker of Hello Kitty, to sell pencil cases decorated with
bug-eyed frogs. Kawaii has turned into a society-wide embrace of the
cute aesthetic in practically all situations. Japan now even prints
cartoon bunnies on reminders for cancer screenings, tsunami warnings,
and insurance brochures.
To a foreigner’s
eye, this might seem to inject a disconcerting levity into serious
issues. But in Japan, it’s now believed that cuteness is entirely
practical; kawaii is used to make somber topics more approachable and
easier to digest. Adults are thought to be far more likely to get a
Pap smear or renew an insurance policy if an animated rabbit is
imploring them to do it.
Companies outside of
Japan have also cottoned on to the psychological effects of kawaii.
In recent years, international car companies have started putting out
cute cars, such as BMW’s Mini marque, with rounder bodies and
circular headlights that look like friendly eyes. And Google, which
“dumbed down” its serif logo into a more childlike font last
year, released a prototype self-driving car that looks like a baby
koala, perhaps to disguise the fact it is a potentially lethal
robotic device.
Automakers may have
made a calculated decision based on studies that show people become
more attentive and cautious around cute things — meaning other
drivers would be less likely to ram into the back of their car. The
protective emotions triggered by its anthropomorphized face may also
prevent others from suffering fits of road rage when the driver is
slow or clumsy.
These are the
positive effects of kawaii or cute objects: They can make us gentler,
neutralize our anger, and boost our focus and productivity. Cute
objects are increasingly used for therapeutic applications, such as a
fluffy robotic seal called Paro, which has been shown to improve mood
and stimulate social interaction in dementia patients.
It’s therefore no
surprise that some people suffering from depression or anxiety are
reporting psychological relief from playing Pokémon Go. In addition
to motivating them to go outside, exercise, and interact with other
people playing, the cuteness of the Pokémon characters has a
psychologically uplifting effect that, say, an adult-looking figurine
would not.
But there are
negative aspects of kawaii, too. The feel-good, happy hormones cute
things trigger can overwhelm other, more rational thoughts and
feelings. In the case of Pokémon Go, rather than increasing feelings
of empathy and caution for traffic, many players seem to acquire a
kind of tunnel vision, plowing down streets and through private
buildings in a frenzied hunt for rarer monsters like Vaporeon and
Ivysaur. If anything, the cuteness of the characters is making
players oblivious to everything except the little critters they are
hunting and those they are competing against, making them more
hazardous to everyone else as a result.
The other problem
with kawaii is that it has a tendency to dumb things down, obscuring
serious issues and threats. Much like the Puss in Boots character
from the Shrek films, a hired assassin who lulls his enemies into a
false sense of security by adopting an innocent, wide-eyed
expression, kawaii can obscure or neutralize dangerous and upsetting
elements of reality. In Tokyo, for example, the police force’s
kawaii mascot, Pipo-kun, masks the menacing aspect of law
enforcement. A cutesy cartoon of lung cancer hides the ugly reality
of blackened organs, reducing motivations to quit. At the strange
historical juncture we find ourselves at, Pokémon Go may be a
glorious escapist trip into a layer beyond the reality of race
politics, the prospect of increasing terrorism overseas, and a tense
presidential race, but it may also steal us away from actual problems
that require our attention.
Scared at what a
Donald Trump presidency and Brexit and nukes and police brutality
might mean for tomorrow? Well, no worries; just play Pokémon Go and
feel those worries sink away. Much like the Japanese teenagers who
kicked off this whole kawaii trend, sinking yourself into the visual
massage that is Pokémon Go is a distraction from the reality at
hand.
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