Neeko-chan's Pokemon Findings #6


Value-laden Pokemon army is hard to beat

By STEPHANIE STROM
NEW YORK TIMES NEWS SERVICE
TOKYO--For those parents frantically beating the pavement to find yet another pack of $5.99 Pokemon cards, take heart: your children are unwittingly demanding a healthy dose of Japanese values.

Pokemon, the army of feisty, funny, fantastic cartoon creatures that has become a smash hit among the under-10 crowd in the United States and are starring in the first Pokemon movie, stands to become one of Japan's biggest, most successful cultural exports.

This latest fad follows on the heels of the Tamagochi craze, which saw the most selfish of children--and even some adults--setting aside their own priorities to care for a virtual pet (also known as a gigapet), which was programmed to die without their steady ministrations.

Pokemon shows a gentleness and humor that reflects the best of Japan in a way that high-quality cars and instant noodles can't.

The cartoon is steeped in traditional Japanese values--responsibility, empathy, cooperation, obedience, respect for elders, humility--that go far beyond its obvious references to things to things Japanese.

It may sound like the makers of Pokemon cribbed those themes from Sesame Street, but there is something notably Japanese in the emphasis on team-building and lending a helping hand, values that are admired but not always handsomely rewarded in American society and culture.

Japanese elementary schools strive to instill those values in their students, placing a premium on their transmission that exceeds their zeal to teach reading, writing and arithmetic.

This heavy emphasis on socializing children is the bedrock of Japanese society and is credited, at least in part, with producing the low rates of juvenile crime rates, teen-age pregnancy and drug abuse that Japan enjoys.

Commentary

Let's not pretend that children recognize the show's subtleties.  The aim of Pokemon (the name is short for "Pocket Monsters"), as far as they're concerned, is to collect all 151 creatures, become a master trainer and win battles--none of which, by the way, ever result in death.  Death occurs only when Pokemon trainers, the humans, fail in their duties.

Ash, Misty and Brock are the central human characters of the show, and they all understand that capturing a Pokemon is not enough.  Becoming a real trainer takes compassion and responsibility, although there is a Pokemon Center in town where ailing Pokemon can go to recuperate if their budding trainers fail to live up to their obligations--and where they absorb lectures about being nice to their Pokemon.

Take the episode where Charmander, a sort-of dinosaur, whose power lies in its ability to shoot fire from his tail, almost dies.  Charmander's master has abandoned it (Pokemon have no sexual identity), leaving it sitting in the rain with a tail almost out of firepower.  If the tail goes out, Charmander will die.

But Ash comes to the rescue, even though this particular Charmander (the name connotes a sort of breed, not an identity) is not his responsibility.  He tolerates jarring electric shocks emitted by Pikachu, the sassy little yellow Pokemon that is his sidekick.

The same kind of patient tending can be seen here at the playground, where older children tend to look out for younger ones, to tolerate their piques and help them learn to use the slides and swings.

The relationship between Ash and Professor Oak, the ultimate authority on Pokemon, is very much like that of deshi to sensei, or student to teacher, the ubiquitous junior-senior relationship that pervades Japanese institutions.

The older sensei offers friendship, advice and guidance to the deshi, who returns it with gratitude, respect and loyalty.   Even Pikachu rewards Ash's care with unerring loyalty, and by fighting far stronger Pokemon and suffering injuries on his behalf.

The factionalism of Japanese politics, the tradition of seniority-based pay, the hierarchical nature of organized crime here all reflect this sensei-deshi relationship.

Yet it is not Professor Oak who corrects Ash or criticizes him.  Rather, it is Ash's peers who, in classic Japanese style, point out his errors and run to his assistance when he finds himself in a jam, as he often does.

It may be some small comfort to remember the hidden values behind the Pokemon phenomenon.  In trading Pokemon cards, children learn negotiating skills, cooperation, value judgment and the thrill of human interaction that is increasingly lost in this virtual, wired world.

Or they learn materialism and cheating.   But that's a non-Pokemon story.


This article was found in Section A, page A-26, in the San Diego Union-Tribune's Friday, November 12, 1999 edition.

Notice: This article was found by my 1999 roomie's mom and given to me by her, Amy Sanderson.  I claim no credit whatsoever in the original production of this article, only that I'm an avid fan of Pokemon and that I typed it out to share with other fans.


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Updated on 2000.06.24.

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