Doraemon and Colonialism? (Week 6)

Hi there, and thanks for stopping by!

In this blog post, I’ll be discussing kawaii from a more critical light, in conjunction with my thoughts on the book INSIDIOUSLY ‘CUTE’: KAWAII CULTURAL PRODUCTION AND IDEOLOGY IN JAPAN by Sara Catharine Osenton. 

A characteristic of kawaii that I’ve explored thus far is its disarming nature. Because kawaii icons are soft, cute, and seemingly innocent, several kinds of institutions have been able to use them to their advantage to make themselves more approachable to the public. Due to these qualities, kawaii often escapes critical review regarding political and ideological messaging. 

Osenton’s book argues that “icons of kawaii are significant in their ability to reproduce normative ideas of national identity, cultural ideology and gender roles, many of which were originally deliberately constructed.” She likens kawaii media to an Ideological State Apparatus (ISA), a term coined by Louis Althusser. ISAs integrate ideology into popular culture through TV, print, radio, family structures, schools, and virtually every kind of media and institution, which, according to Osenton, includes kawaii. 

Throughout the first sections of her book, Osenton argues that media like Doraemon communicate a colonialist perspective regarding conquest and technology, an argument that I can’t help but find at least partially compelling. The basic premise of Doraemon surrounds the titular robotic cat travelling from the future to help a young boy named Nobita with all sorts of problems, utilizing technology from the future. Much of the story of Doraemon surrounds the need to “create space,” and with technology from the future, create miniature worlds, travel to uninhabited planets, and even parallel worlds. The need to create space/resources is a notion echoed by several imperial regimes, including Japan. (In my mind, as drastic as this comparison may be, “space creation” as presented in Doraemon also draws an uncomfortable parallel with the Nazi concept of “lebensraum.”) And by virtue of Doraemon’s vast reach to a young audience, Osenton argues that it becomes a normalizing social framework, one that gently conditions children to see expansion, conquest, and technological domination as not only acceptable, but desirable and even playful. According to Osenton, Doraemon is able to separate itself from Japan’s very real colonial past through the bending of time–the past becomes the future, and the future becomes the present. 

In Doraemon, the earless robotic cat is representative of technology, and thus, Japan. It’s often said that the three sacred treasures of post-war Japan are a television, a refrigerator, and a washing machine. Japan has become one of the technological centers of the world, with many home appliances, cars, cameras, etc. originating from it. As Osenton describes, “Doraemon is the science and technology of the future, offering countless ways in which the problem of space can be overcome. This consequently demonstrates that Japan, or at least the imaginary Japan of Doraemon, possesses superior knowledge and skill, reinforcing its place at the top of its self-generated Asian hierarchy.” While I agree that Doraemon represents the top notch technology that Japan possesses, I feel that the assertion of the series demonstrates an explicit hierarchy within Asian countries seems unfounded. While I admit that my knowledge of Doraemon is lacking, limited to some short clips I watched as a child, not much evidence is presented on Osenton’s part to support the hierarchy she mentions. While historically, Japan has spread the idea of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, a hierarchy structure that placed Japan at the top, and placed other countries at lower levels, it seems that the same cannot be said about the animated series of Doraemon. That being said, Osenton’s broader point—that Doraemon operates within an ideological framework that centers Japan as a technologically advanced problem-solver—is still valuable. Even if the series doesn’t overtly assert Japan’s dominance over neighboring Asian countries, the subtle messaging of technological supremacy positions Japan as a kind of benevolent leader, capable of solving global (and even intergalactic) problems through cute, futuristic tools. In this way, Doraemon unconsciously reflects a national fantasy of restored prominence through technological soft power.

This is not to suggest that Doraemon, or kawaii culture at large, is inherently malicious. Rather, it is to recognize that cuteness can be politically potent. It can comfort, but also conceal. Thanks for reading, and I hope this gave you something to think about the next time you come across a seemingly innocent character with round cheeks and doe eyes.