War to Whimsy: Kawaii Culture and Postwar Japanese Soft Power
Advisor: Mr. Brady
Internship Location: San Francisco Japantown
Onsite Mentor: Ms. Jie Zhang, Apple
This research project explores the development of and global influence of Japanese kawaii culture from the post-World War II era to the present. The study will employ a multidisciplinary approach, utilizing academic sources from platforms such as JSTOR and Google Scholar alongside popular media to examine both academic and consumer perspectives. Library resources will further support the research. Fieldwork will be conducted in San Francisco’s Japantown, one of the only four Japantowns in the US, where observational analysis and visitor interviews will offer insights into the perception and representation of kawaii culture abroad. Additionally, virtual interviews with historians and cultural theorists specializing in Japanese and East Asian studies will enrich the study with expert perspectives.
The findings will be presented in a 20-minute documentary, integrating both online and on-site research, including interview footage of experts and Japantown visitors, to analyze kawaii culture’s historical development, its impact on Japan’s global image, and its impact on other Asian countries’ soft power.
Project Blog
Week 1: Introduction: Cult of Kawaii (Week 1)
Hi everyone! I'm Angelina, and welcome to my first blog post! My senior project will revolve around the concept of "kawaii," a Japanese term that can be loosely translated as "cute" or "lovable" in English, though some of the cultural nuances are lost in translation.
Background:
Over the years, anime, manga, Sanrio, cosplay, Nintendo, and other facets of Japanese pop culture have gradually taken the world by storm, significantly increasing Japan's cultural influence abroad. Today, it’s not uncommon to find people of all ages and backgrounds worldwide who are avid fans of Japanese media. As an enthusiast myself, I watch anime regularly and even dabble in cosplay from time to time.
Today, Japan is seen as a modern, progressive country and the face of kawaii culture. However, through my history classes, such as Colonial and Post-Colonial History, and my own research, I’ve come to learn about the darker chapters of Japan’s past. The heinous war crimes committed during WWII—such as the Rape of Nanking, the horrors of Unit 731, and the exploitation of Korean “comfort women”—are just the tip of the iceberg. At the end of WWII, Japan’s global image was in shambles, marked by its association with extreme destruction, militarism, and defeat.
Japan has since successfully rebranded itself, a key driver is the rise of kawaii culture. Nowadays, social media feeds are filled with Sanrio blind-box hauls or adorable Japanese stationery. This pervasive culture of “cute,” the antithesis to Japan’s previous war-monger image, has become a soft power tool, reshaping global perceptions of Japan. Its influence extends worldwide, inspiring the soft power strategies of other East Asian countries—most notably, the meteoric rise of K-pop, which draws heavily from the foundations laid by J-pop.
Project Objectives:
Through my research, I hope to discover the extent to which the formation of Japanese “kawaii” (cute) culture is a response to Japan’s image after WWII and its influence upon other Asian countries’ soft power strategies. I also aim to study the history of Japan’s kawaii culture, including anime, manga, J-pop, and other forms of pop media.
A highlight of my project is that part of my research will take place in San Francisco's Japantown, one of the only four in the US, where I'll interview visitors and document how kawaii is represented outside of Japan. My findings will be presented in a 20-minute documentary.
Post 2: Week Two Update
Hi everyone, this second post should have been uploaded earlier, but as I have been abroad since last week, I have had trouble connecting my laptop to hotel wifi until now :(
Last week, I intended to upload a mini-literature review of the research that has guided my project thus far. Much of my interest in this topic stems from my experience as an American consumer: throughout the years, I’ve seen Japanese products gain momentum, from anime, to gacha games, to collectables/figures like Smiskis and Sonny Angels. But beyond just consumer trends, I wanted to understand the broader historical and political forces behind Japan’s soft power.
Otmazgin (2012) traces the historical development of Japan’s strategies for cultural exportation. Before and during WWII, Japan forcefully imposed its culture on occupied territories to establish hegemony under the "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere" at the expense of local traditions. However, in the 1980s, Japan pivoted to cultural diplomacy, leveraging its popular culture (e.g., anime, manga, J-pop) to enhance its image under initiatives like "Cool Japan." As a destination for Japan’s soft power, other Asian nations were considered a favorite––a large middle class in Asia began emerging, with increasing amounts of leisure time. His research also examines how Japanese cultural products shape perceptions of Japan in Northeast and Southeast Asia. Surveys of university students in Hong Kong, Bangkok, and Seoul reveal that while anime and J-pop generate admiration for Japan’s creativity, they don’t necessarily translate into political alignment. Historical grievances persist despite Japan’s soft power efforts, highlighting the complexity of its cultural influence—while it fosters affinity, it does not erase historical tensions.
Similarly, Yano (2009) examines the globalization of kawaii culture, particularly through Hello Kitty, as a calculated tool of economic and cultural diplomacy. Through the lens of "pink globalization," she analyzes how cuteness has transitioned from a domestic aesthetic to a strategic tool for Japan’s cultural and economic diplomacy. The article highlights the diverse interpretations of cuteness, ranging from playful and innocent to hypersexualized and commercialized, as well as its roles in gender, identity, and transnational consumerism. Yano argues that kawaii operates as a nuanced cultural export, embodying the essence of Japan’s soft power and simultaneously sparking debates about national identity and global consumer culture. Chen (2016) explores its strategic development as a tool for cultural diplomacy and global branding in her analysis of kawaii culture. She argues that kawaii icons like Sanrio characters were intentionally designed to project a playful and youthful image of Japan internationally, contrasting with traditional perceptions of a stoic and honor-bound society. Both the Japanese government and corporations have embraced this deliberate cultivation of cuteness to enhance cultural influence and economic reach. Soon, I will be reading Yano’s book, Pink Globalization to further explore her dissection of Hello Kitty as a soft power titan in greater detail.
Zamora, Ruiz, and Arizabal (2023) further contextualize kawaii culture as a post-war rebranding tool, arguing that it helped obscure Japan's wartime atrocities while promoting a new, sanitized international image. They critique the erasure of historical memory and emphasize the importance of accountability, particularly regarding symbols like the Rising Sun flag associated with the Japanese Imperial Army, which is an accepted symbol of Japanese culture, a sentiment not extended to the Nazi flag of fascist Germany.
Ng (2002) adds a regional perspective, analyzing Japan’s cultural influence on East Asian countries such as Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea. Japanese manga and anime have significantly shaped local industries, introducing styles and narratives that resonate with youth culture. Specifically, Ng raises examples of other Asian comics borrowing the Japanese styles to achieve greater popularity. The “flying geese” model describes how Japan has led regional cultural innovation, transferring expertise while benefiting from collaborative projects with its neighbors.
As I continue this project, I’m excited to explore more perspectives—especially Yano’s Pink Globalization. There’s much more for me to unpack about how Japan has strategically leveraged its culture, from historical revisionism to consumer branding. More updates soon!
Sources:
Chen, Angela. “The Serious Subtext of Japan’s ‘Cute’ Culture - JSTOR Daily.” JSTOR Daily, July 14, 2016. https://daily.jstor.org/the-serious-subtext-of-japans-cute-culture/.
Otmazgin, Nissim Kadosh. "Geopolitics and Soft Power: Japan's Cultural Policy and Cultural Diplomacy in Asia." Asia-Pacific Review 19, no. 1 (May 2012): 37–61. https://doi.org/10.1080/13439006.2012.678629.
Otmazgin, Nissim. "Japan Imagined: Popular Culture, Soft Power, and Japan’s Changing Image in Northeast and Southeast Asia." Contemporary Japan 24, no. 2 (2012): 147–174. https://doi.org/10.1515/cj-2012-0001.
Ng, Wai-ming. "The Impact of Japanese Comics and Animation in Asia." Journal of Japanese Trade & Industry, July/August 2002.
Yano, Christine R. “Wink on Pink: Interpreting Japanese Cute as It Grabs the Global Headlines.” The Journal of Asian Studies 68, no. 3 (2009): 681–88. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20619791.
Zamora, Ethan Julian, Jeric Ruiz, and Justine Avery Arizabal. "Goodbye War Crimes, Hello Kitty." Pacific Atrocities Education Blog, September 2023. https://www.pacificatrocities.org/blog/goodbye-war-crimes-hello-kitty.
Week 3: The Epitome of Kawaii: Hello Kitty (Week 3)
Hi everyone, welcome back to my blog! In this post, I’ll discuss some of the sources that have I read this week.
An important part of my project has been to define soft power, a term coined by Joseph Nye in 1990. And to do that, I read Joseph Nye’s article “Soft Power.” In it, he describes how in recent decades, the definition of power has been losing its emphasis on conquest and the military. Instead, cooptive or soft power has risen, which instead is defined as “the ability of a country to structure a situation so that other countries develop preferences or define their interests in ways consistent with its own.” Joseph Nye asserts that soft power is just as important as hard power, and if a “nation’s culture and ideology are attractive, others will more willingly follow.” In fact, Joseph Nye brings up Japan in relation to soft power, but only its manufacturing industry, citing the rest of its culture as being too “inward” to fully realize the potential of soft power.
Being that Nye’s evaluation of Japanese soft power was made more than 30 years ago, more recent sources have had far different views on the global reach of Japanese soft power. Of these sources is Christine Yano’s Pink Globalization, which focuses on Hello Kitty’s role as an icon of kawaii and as a beacon of Japanese soft power. While the book mainly revolves around Hello Kitty specifically, many of the concepts presented apply to other forces of kawaii and soft power. For example, Yano describes Hello Kitty as a kyarakutā (loosely translated as “character,” anthropomorphized cartoon figures). Kyarakutā are “enchanted commodities that are sold as souvenirs, gifts, and all manner of goods mainly by females, and Hello Kitty lies at the heart of the kyarakutā industry. In recent years, other Japanese kyarakutās have become popular, from Gudetama (another Sanrio creation), Smiskis, to Sonny Angels. In my personal experience as a a consumer and social media user, posts showing off someone’s Hello Kitty collection, or opening a Sonny Angel blindbox seems to increase consumer demands for the product and similar kawaii goods, further fulfilling Nye’s definition of soft power.
Hello Kitty’s rise as a global icon exemplifies how Japan’s soft power operates differently from traditional Western cultural exports. Unlike Coca-Cola, McDonald’s, or Starbucks, which are closely associated with American identity and cultural hegemony, Hello Kitty remains a product without an overtly nationalistic imprint—what Iwabuchi Koichi refers to as mukokuseki (literally “without nationality”). The name of Hello Kitty’s parent company, Sanrio, is a deliberate act to position itself as having no national identity. “San” derives inspiration from names of American cities like San Francisco and San Diego, while “rio” comes from the Spanish word for river. This characteristic has allowed Hello Kitty to seamlessly integrate into various global markets, appearing in Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and even collaborating with Barbie, an American cultural icon. The pairing of Barbie and Hello Kitty demonstrates how Japanese Cute-Cool has extended its reach beyond childhood nostalgia into adult consumer culture, where it takes on new meanings of rebellion, irony, and play.
Hello Kitty serves as a case study in how Japanese soft power has evolved since Nye’s initial assessment. While Nye saw Japan’s cultural influence as limited by its insular focus, Yano’s research suggests that Japan’s Cute-Cool has successfully infiltrated global markets. Going forward, my research will continue to investigate other forms of kawaii, from gaming to animation.
What are your thoughts? Do you think kawaii strengthens Japan’s influence, or does it reinforce certain stereotypes? Do you own any Hello Kitty items? Let me know in the comments! Thanks for reading, and see you next time!
Week 4: Origins of Kawaii (Week 4)
Hello everyone, and welcome back to my blog! This week, I want to share some of the research I’ve done on the origins of kawaii and its many faces, from innocent childhood nostalgia to how the Japanese government has leveraged it as a tool of soft power.
The origins of kawaii were grassroots, and a way to rebel against the rigid and formal expectations of Japanese society. Kawaii as we know it today began in the 1970s and 1980s, when young girls in Japan developed a new style of writing known as maru-moji (round writing) and gyaru-moji (girl graphs), bubbly, more childlike ways of writing. Such handwriting was seen as deviant, and even banned in schools. This resistance extended into fashion and lifestyle, with kawaii becoming a way to reject strict societal roles. Styles like gyaru also began during this period, with girls donning tanned skin, dyed hair, and heavy makeup, the antithesis of Japanese beauty standards, while embellishing their outfits with kawaii icons like Hello Kitty. It was a bottom-up movement—girls defining their own identity through cuteness.
Much of the appeal of kawaii hinges upon the aspect of nostalgia. Returning to the case of Hello Kitty, girls often grow up with Hello Kitty in the form of lunchboxes, jackets, and the other infinite forms of merchandise that Hello Kitty takes shape in. As grown women or as mothers, these same girls may return to Hello Kitty, buying licensed items for their household or for their own children. Throughout this, Hello Kitty does not age, she remains eternally youthful, eternally your friend.
While kawaii often embodies childhood innocence, it has also been sexualized, especially through the lens of rorikon (lolicon) culture. The figure of the shōjo (young, unmarried girl) is central to kawaii, and she exists in a liminal space—forever youthful, forever on the verge of adulthood. In some media, this has led to an unsettling blend of purity and eroticization, with manga and anime depictions featuring childlike faces on adult bodies. This contrast—between nostalgic innocence and subtle (or not-so-subtle) sexualization—highlights how kawaii is not just a straightforward aesthetic but a deeply complex social construct. The shōjo is both protected and objectified, admired for her childlike qualities while simultaneously placed in voyeuristic contexts.
Kawaii’s appeal is rooted in science as much as culture. Ethologist Konrad Lorenz’s baby schema theory explains that certain features—big eyes, round faces, small noses—trigger a nurturing response in humans. These same features define kawaii characters, making them naturally appealing, especially to women, who are traditionally seen as caregivers.
As such, kawaii was primarily a female-centered aesthetic, but over time, its influence expanded. The rise of kyarakutā guzzu (character goods) broadened its reach, making kawaii more accessible to both men and women. While fancy goods (fanshii guzzu) were originally marketed to girls and women, character goods became gender-neutral, allowing male consumers to participate in kawaii culture without losing social status.
Kawaii’s reach goes beyond consumer culture—it has become a strategic tool for the Japanese government. By the 1980s, institutions began adopting kawaii mascots to create a friendlier, more approachable image. As an institutional tool, kawaii’s most important role is as a “disarming agent.” Through creating kawaii mascots for several government figures or institutions, Japan has made itself more approachable and palatable to the general public.
Some notable examples include:
Former PM Koizumi Jun’ichiro represented as a cute lion, “Shishiro.”
Former PM Shinzo Abe dressed as Super Mario at the 2016 Olympics.
Through kawaii, the Japanese government found a way to make its institutions feel less intimidating, using cuteness as a disarming agent. This tactic extends beyond Japan—government-backed initiatives like "Cool Japan" have used kawaii as a tool of cultural diplomacy, exporting Japanese pop culture to the world.
Thanks for tuning into this week’s blog! How have you seen kawaii being represented in the media? See you next week :)
Sources:
Glocker, Melanie L., Daniel D. Langleben, Kosha Ruparel, James W. Loughead, Ruben C. Gur, and Norbert Sachser. 2009. “Baby Schema in Infant Faces Induces Cuteness Perception and Motivation for Caretaking in Adults.” Ethology 115 (3): 257–63. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1439-0310.2008.01603.x.
Heng, Yee-Kuang. "Three Faces of Japan’s Soft Power." Asian International Studies Review 18, no. 1 (June 2017): 171–188. https://doi.org/10.16934/isr.18.1.201706.171.
Yano, Christine R. “Wink on Pink: Interpreting Japanese Cute as It Grabs the Global Headlines.” The Journal of Asian Studies 68, no. 3 (2009): 681–88. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20619791.
ZenPop. 2023. “What Makes a Drawing Kawaii?” ZenPop (blog). January 18, 2023. https://zenpop.jp/en/blog/post/5213/what-makes-a-drawing-kawaii?srsltid=AfmBOoorpWT2MsaeZdhYBHcHB4sx8xwGD9QS9VvvzT1Hb_H4wd02CZ_G.
Week 5: Ribbons and Resistance: Japan’s Lolita Fashion (Week 5)
Hello and welcome! 🌸
I started off this week exploring the layered world of Lolita Fashion, a subculture often reduced to aesthetics. At first glance, it’s easy to be charmed—or puzzled—by the lace, parasols, and Victorian silhouettes. But beneath the bows lies a compelling cultural statement born out of postwar transformation, youth discontent, and Japan’s evolving role on the world stage.
Emerging in the 1970s and ’80s, Lolita Fashion was a response to a society grappling with commercialization, rigid norms, and growing pressures on women. Rather than confronting these changes head-on, some young people chose to escape—into a world of imagined innocence and beauty. Lolita clothing, with its nods to 18th- and 19th-century European elegance, offered a whimsical refuge from the demands of adulthood. Through Lolita, young women could become the concept of kawaii, with some practitioners even adopting the behavior and mannerisms of children. This wasn’t just escapism; it was subtle resistance. By embracing childlike femininity and rejecting traditional expectations of discipline, self-sacrifice, and conformity, Lolitas created a cultural space that allowed for individual expression and even defiance. In a society that tends to emphasize conformity, even through dress, women who dress in Lolita stick out from the crowd, sending the statement: I choose to be this way, and I find joy in it.
Like Hello Kitty, Lolita partakes in the strategy of mukokuseki (without nationality). In Lolita, it’s rare to spot anything distinctly or traditionally Japanese. Rather, Lolita outfits usually consist of explicitly European elements: lace, corsets, and petticoats are just the tip of the iceberg. While this originated as an attempt to emulate Europe as a place of fantasy nostalgia for Japanese girls, I wonder if these Western elements also played a role in making it more approachable for global audiences.
Like many other aspects of kawaii, Lolita hinges upon the liminal character of the shōjo, a school-aged female who is not quite child but not quite adult. According to Terasa Younker in her paper “Lolita: Dreaming, Despairing, Defying,” “The Lolita aesthetic is based on the desire to emulate a shōjo…Japanese culture has always held a peculiar fascination for the shōjo. She appears in literature, from classics such as Kawabata’s The Dancing Girl of Izu to Yoshimoto Banana’s Kitchen. Shōjo is the hero of every single Studio Ghibli film, and is the face of a multitude of advertising campaigns.”
The idea of the shojo has traveled across the seas towards other countries. As recent as last year, an outfit aesthetic began going viral over several social media platforms, coined the “Shōjo Girl Aesthetic.” From my own perspective as a consumer, this aesthetic seems to have several roots: 90s-2000s Japanese fashion marketed towards the shojo population and the Shojo genre of romance anime (also marketed towards young women). While the outfits in the Shojo Girl Aesthetic are not quite as frilly, victorian, and exaggerated as Lolita, they still share the characteristics of lace, softness, and general girly-ness. While the original articles of clothing for this aesthetic was procured through buying secondhand on Japanese sites, many Western companies have hopped on this trend and began producing their own lacey babydoll tops, leg warmers, and pleated skirts. The trend exploded over social media, fulfilling Joseph Nye’s definition of soft power, where consumer demand is shaped so that the desired outcome is achieved through attraction rather than coercion. By donning Shojo Girl outfits, people all over the world can suddenly become the original Japanese shōjo.
What allof this reveals is that aesthetics can be powerful. Whether it's through the dreamy escapism of Lolita fashion or the global reach of kawaii media, Japan has reshaped how the world sees it.
Thanks for reading, and I hope this look into the frilly, fascinating world of Lolita gave you something to think about.Until next time!
Week 6: 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.
Week 7: A Brief History of Anime (Week 7)
Today, anime is celebrated across the globe as a unique and respected art form. From Studio Ghibli’s delicate storytelling to the gripping action of Demon Slayer, anime captivates audiences of all backgrounds. It has introduced Japanese culture to a wider audience, and has carved out its position as a major cultural export that’s inspired everything from global cosplay conventions to Western animation like Avatar: The Last Airbender. With the global anime industry valued at over $24 billion in 2021, there is no question of its massive cultural impact.
But anime's journey through time is anything but straightforward. Its roots lie not in global ambition, but in local ideological control. Leading up to and during WWII, Emperor Hirohito put in place strict controls over cinema and animation modeled after Nazi restrictions, only allowing entertainment to praise the Japanese values and the empire. Criticism of the government was prohibited alongside displays of “trashy” Western culture, like smoking and going to bars. In fact, one of Japan’s earliest full-length animated films, Momotaro’s Divine Sea Warriors (1945), was a wartime propaganda piece designed to instill national pride and justify Japan’s military conquests in the South Pacific. In the film, cute animals representing Japan's Asian neighbors are shown welcoming the Japanese military as “liberators” from Western powers.
(Momotaro's Divine Sea Warriors)
What’s especially striking is how far anime has evolved from these origins. Once a tool to shape domestic public opinion, anime is now an instrument of soft power that exports Japanese values, aesthetics, and creativity across borders. Instead of Japanese works isolating themselves from Western values and aesthetics, several works take heavy inspiration from European and American culture, with titles like Black Butler, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, and Banana Fish coming to mind. Technological innovation, global distribution platforms like Crunchyroll and Netflix, and a growing international fandom have made anime into a worldwide phenomenon. For many international viewers, anime serves as a first introduction to Japanese traditions, language, and food.
(Black Butler)
Moreover, the influence of anime and manga is especially prominent in America and Asia. American shows like Teen Titans borrow heavily from anime’s stylistic and narrative techniques. Meanwhile, countries like Korea, China, and Taiwan have built their own animation industries—often starting with Japanese collaborations or stylistic influence. Shows like Korea’s Mashimaro and Pucca resemble Japanese mascots, while Chinese animators frequently train under or subcontract for Japanese studios. Even in Hong Kong and Taiwan, television dramas and comics have directly adapted Japanese storylines, often with minor localization tweaks to avoid copyright issues.
(Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, a Chinese donghua)
What began as a state-controlled tool to shape Japan’s identity has become a cultural juggernaut, reshaping the world’s perception of Japan in the process. Japan has traded its militaristic image for one of creativity, imagination, and artistic excellence.
Week 8: Cool Japan (Week 8)
Over the past few decades, Japanese anime and manga have grown from niche interests into major global cultural forces. While fans, technological advancements, and creative industries have all played key roles in this expansion, one often-overlooked contributor is the Japanese government itself.
In the early 2000s, the Japanese government formally recognized anime and manga as Japanese cultural symbols, materializing in the Council for Overseas Exchange, led by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA). The goal was “To increase the Number of People Who Understand and Love Japan.” In the 2010s, the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry (METI) launched “Cool Japan,” which is exactly what it sounds like––make Japan seem "cool."
Cool Japan budgeted investments in promoting anime, manga, fashion, food, and design. METI’s agenda included cultivating creative talent, improving broadband content markets, and financing content producers. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) launched complementary projects such as the International Manga Award, appointed Doraemon as “Anime Ambassador,” and appointed three young women as official "Kawaii Ambassadors." It also created Japan Creative Centres in countries like Singapore, which houses a library of Japanese manga, and holds cultural events.
Kawaii Ambassadors
With these two ministries, the Japanese government has named the United States, South Korea, China, and Southeast Asia (many of which hold longstanding historical tensions with Japan) as particular areas of focus. In South Korea and Taiwan, Japanese manga was initially smuggled in, which Japanese names and backgrounds changed to avoid detection due to postwar restrictions, but gradually gained mainstream acceptance as restrictions loosened. Even in China, where foreign animation is more regulated, Japanese anime remains highly popular, especially online. These fan-driven trends were amplified by the government's efforts to ease content restrictions.
The Japanese government also worked to expand international broadcasting, establish cultural centers abroad, and fund workshops and events, such as the World Cosplay Summit. These efforts were aimed not just at spreading content, but at encouraging genuine cultural interaction, especially among young consumers, who are seen as the future of Japan’s international relationships.
By aligning public policy with creative industries, Japan turned pop culture into an economic and diplomatic asset. The government’s efforts helped position anime and manga not merely as entertainment but as representations of Japanese identity. As fan communities grow, and more young people take an interest in the Japanese language and society, it is clear that Japan’s soft power strategy is succeeding.
Week 9: Rise of J-pop (Week 9)
The Japanese idol industry is one of the most potent carriers of kawaii in Japanese pop culture.
Idols are young, popular, singer-entertainers trained in singing, dancing, and performing. Yet, their success is not rooted in perfection, but in relatability. Unlike Western pop stars, Japanese idols are crafted to feel accessible—approachable girls-next-door who shine not because they’re flawless, but because they seem just within reach. Their charm is made tangible through small venues, fan meet-and-greets, and live appearances, where fans can meet their idols directly.
In the 1980s that we witnessed the “golden age of idols.” The era saw a surge of young talent, none more iconic than Matsuda Seiko. Seiko wasn’t glamorous in the way Western stars were—she was flat-chested, bowlegged, and unpolished. But it was exactly this imperfection, paired with her bashful demeanor and childlike clothing, that made her lovable. She embodied burikko, a term used to describe exaggerated kawaii behavior—shy smiles, an innocent demeanor, and demure gestures.
But towards the end of the 1980s, the popularity of idol culture grew stale, resulting in the “idol ice age.”
The public grew weary of the artificiality and various scandals that dimmed the industry’s glow.
Then came the economic crash of the early 1990s—Japan’s “lost decade.” With young people out of work and under pressure, the public sought comfort, nostalgia, and emotional escape once again. Kawaii made a triumphant return—and idols came back with a vengeance along with it. People searched for happiness in the form of kawaii, and many found that idols fit the bill perfectly.
At this time, J-pop, or Japanese popular music, began incorporating a more global sound, and was played alongside foreign music on Japanese radio. But even with a hefty Western influence on the sound of Jpop, Jpop idols never quite caught on on a global scale. In an era of Britney Spears, Mariah Carey, and Christina Aguilera, the cutesy image of J-pop idols just didn't blend well in the West. However, the same cannot be said about other Asian countries. Idols were hugely popular in the rest of Asia. Satellite networks like Star TV broadcast Japanese idol dramas to Taiwan, while music exports skyrocketed. By 1995, nearly half of Japan’s television exports went to East and Southeast Asia. Idol groups and soloists like Ayumi Hamasaki, SMAP, Utada Hikaru, and AKB48 became household names across the region.
For many young East Asians, Japanese pop culture offered a way to experience the West through an Asian lens—what scholars call an “Asianed West.” With Japan’s status as an industrialized and modernized nation, Japanese music, media, and fashion were carriers of an urban and trendy lifestyle that many young people in Asia found attractive and relevant to their own changing lives. Additionally, asian fans found that Japanese idols were more relatable to them culturally and ethnically. Rather than chase an impossible ideal of the likes of Madonna or JLo, Japanese idols presented a more attainable vision. The kawaii, burikko behavior displayed by J-pop idols was similar to practices of aegyo in Korea, and sajiao in China and Taiwan, forms of deliberate cuteness used to express affection, charm, and playfulness.
Week 10: Tiny Boxes, Big Feelings: Blindbox Trinkets (Week 10)
Walk into any trendy Asian store, and you’re likely to spot them: small, mysterious boxes promising a surprise inside. Known as blind boxes, these collectible figurines have taken the world by storm. Whether it's Sonny Angels, Smiskis, or POPmart's Skullpandas, blind boxes blend nostalgia, design, and emotional gratification.
The roots of the blind box phenomenon lie in Japan’s capsule toy culture, known as "gachapon," which emerged in the 1960s. These vending machine toys offered a small thrill of chance—you inserted a coin and turned the knob without knowing exactly what toy you’d receive. The same concept has now evolved into high-end blind box collectibles with their own mythology, design language, and fan communities.
Blind boxes offer a unique emotional experience. Their characters are often designed using the principles of "kawaii": large heads, round eyes, tiny bodies, and blank or soft expressions that evoke innocence and vulnerability. Psychologists refer to this as Kindchenschema, or baby schema—a set of traits that instinctively trigger nurturing behavior in humans. Their designs make it so that these figures can't speak, move, or even react—and that’s precisely the point. Their stillness invites interpretation, and their handicapped nature attracts us to protect them. They become mirrors for our emotions, symbols of safety in a chaotic world. Life gets complicated, and figures like Sonny Angels can help "heal your inner child." Sonny Angels have been presented as a solution to the problems of girlhood. Their slogan was rebranded in 2018 to “He may bring you more happiness.” In a world dominated by constant connectivity and uncertainty, the joy of holding something small, tactile, and predictably delightful can offer a sense of control and comfort. Their affordability makes them accessible, but their collectibility and limited editions keep consumers coming back.
What’s particularly interesting is how blind boxes have crossed national borders. Chinese brands like POPmart have embraced the model and infused it. POPmart’s Labubu, for instance, blends Western fairytale influences with Japanese cuteness to create something that feels global. These products are widely available in malls, online shops, and increasingly, on social media platforms like TikTok, where the unboxing experience itself becomes a form of content.
In many ways, blind box figures are the spiritual descendants of Hello Kitty and the Rune Panda. They exemplify how kawaii design has evolved into a lifestyle. In a market increasingly driven by feeling rather than function, these tiny objects offer something big: a moment of joy, a spark of nostalgia, and a reminder that cute can be powerful.
Week 11: Cool Japan Rebooted (Week 11)
For much of the 20th century, Japan’s global influence was rooted in its economic power. But in the 21st century, a different kind of strength has emerged: cultural soft power. And nowhere is this more evident than in the government’s Cool Japan initiative.
Launched in 2013, Cool Japan aimed to formalize and support the global spread of Japanese pop culture. From anime and manga to fashion, food, and design, the initiative sought to amplify the cultural exports that were already organically winning fans worldwide. The idea was to convert Japan’s aesthetic appeal into diplomatic and economic capital. The government appointed, Ambassadors of Cute, Anime Ambassadors, and created the International Manga Award.
One symbolic moment came in 2016, when then-Prime Minister Shinzo Abe appeared at the Rio Olympics dressed as Super Mario. It was a playful yet strategic move that showcased Japan’s cultural icons as part of its national identity. Abe later explained, “I borrowed the power of Japan’s characters because I wanted to show Japan’s soft power.”
However, the government's efforts met mixed success. Critics noted that the government’s attempts often felt top-down and lacked the authenticity that made Japanese culture so compelling in the first place. Cultural coolness, after all, is difficult to manufacture. It must be lived, shared, and adopted organically. Despite generous funding and high-profile campaigns, the initial version of Cool Japan failed to fully resonate.
In 2024, the Japanese government has launched a revamped version of the initiative with a broader and more strategic scope. This time, the goal is not just to attract anime fans, but to turn cultural admiration into geopolitical advantage. In the face of rising global tensions—from U.S.-China rivalry to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine—Japan is explicitly trying to leverage soft power as a tool of national security and diplomacy. They aim to "enhance the brand value of Japan so that the people who make political and economic decisions and have influence in countries and regions around the world will also become Japan fans, making Japan an indispensable presence in the international community."
Initiatives now focus on:
Developing young creative talent and sending them abroad;
Supporting translation and critique of Japanese literature and manga through local cultural lenses;
Creating curated content for film screenings and digital platforms in countries with strained diplomatic ties.
Grow its overseas market to 20 trillion by 2033.
Whether the new Cool Japan can overcome the challenges of state-driven branding remains to be seen. But what’s clear is that Japan is no longer leaving pop culture to chance. It’s turning kawaii into strategy.
Week 12: Anime Makes its Way Around the World (Week 12)
Anime is everywhere. From billboards in Times Square to cosplayers filling convention centers, Japanese animation has become a truly global phenomenon.
In the United States, anime’s early years were marked by a process scholars have called the “denationalization” of anime. When shows like Astro Boy, Speed Racer, and Gigantor first aired on American television in the 1960s and 70s, most viewers had no idea they were watching Japanese content. Studios stripped away Japanese names, cultural references, and visuals, making the shows feel Westernized and generic.
That began to change in the 1980s and 90s, when dedicated fans started forming clubs, publishing newsletters, and trading subtitled VHS tapes. These fan communities—often operating outside of legal distribution channels—were crucial to anime’s spread. Pirated copies of shows were passed around college campuses, anime conventions emerged as community hubs, and fanzines helped educate new viewers about Japanese culture, language, and storytelling.
Fan translators played a major role in shaping the anime experience abroad. These "fansubbers" provided high-quality subtitles for shows that hadn’t yet been released in English, often adding cultural notes to explain untranslatable jokes or references. The result was a grassroots education in Japanese life. As fans became more interested in Japanese culture, some of them even embarked on "anime tourism," where fans travel to Japan to visit animation studios, buy merchandise, and see the streets they saw on screen.
This fan-driven approach gave rise to cosplay (costume play), where fans dressed as their favorite characters. What began as a niche activity is now a multi-billion-dollar industry, with global events like Anime Expo and Comic-Con drawing hundreds of thousands of attendees. Cosplay became a form of cultural participation, turning passive viewership into active identity.
While the American story of anime fandom is one of gradual discovery and growing legitimacy, the narrative in Korea and China is more complex. Due to historical tensions and political control, Japanese media was heavily restricted in both countries throughout much of the 20th century. In South Korea, Japanese pop culture was banned outright until the late 1990s. In China, while some shows like Astro Boy aired in the 1980s, imports were limited, and censorship was common. China later banned the airing of foreign animation during prime time.
Despite this, Japanese anime thrived underground. Fans smuggled in VHS tapes, pirated DVDs, and later, torrent files. Online forums and fan communities kept the culture alive and growing. Even today, surveys show that a majority of young people still prefer Japanese animation to domestic offerings.
In both Korea and China, anime reshaped domestic industries. Korean manhwa and webtoons drew inspiration from manga, and many Chinese animation studios adopted anime-style aesthetics. The explosion of titles like Genshin Impact—an anime-style game developed in China and adored worldwide—is a testament to how deeply Japan’s visual culture has embedded itself in East Asian products.