Digital Bunshin

The Otaku Encyclopedia: An insider’s guide to the subculture of Cool Japan written by Tokyo University Ph.D. candidate Patrick W. Galbraith is, as the title might suggest, an interesting publication filled to capacity with all sorts of information concerning the somewhat controversial topic of Japanese pop-culture superconsumers known as otaku. While the book presents clear definitions of many topics related to otaku (or centered around them), it however understandably struggles to define one of the most important and highly debated otaku topics today: moé.

According to Galbraith, there are many theories concerning the origin and meaning of the word moé. Taking the most popular theories into consideration, we see that people are mostly torn between the word’s origin being the word 萌える (pronounced “mo-eh-ru”, meaning “to bud”) or 燃える (also pronounced “mo-eh-ru”, but meaning “to burn”). The problem in defining moé has seen some controversies both within the otaku culture and outside of it.

The tendency to associate the word moé with derogatory depictions of women (namely presenting them as needy creatures that need a man to be of service to in order to have any meaning in their lives), as well as the tendency to associate it with lolicon (a fetish that targets prepubescent girls) has much understandably generated strong backlash from those outside the otaku community against it. And within the otaku culture, the lack of a proper definition has generated a rift between the older generation of otaku and the newer generation.

Reading through Galbraith’s wonderful book, (as well as my own disappointment with so-called moé anime, the current anime trend) led me to also wonder what moé means. I spent some days reflecting upon the topic, without much satisfaction as to my own definitions of moé and what it means. But then, one day I decided to revisit one of my favorite anime series as part of my Japanese language self-teaching course. Watching the first episode of Mobile Suit Gundam Seed (quite the opposite of what comes to mind when thinking about moé) I found a satisfactory answer to the dilemma.

As a minor note, please understand that my purpose is not to act pretentious as if believing myself to know more than Ph.D candidate Mr. Galbraith. I by no means desire to compare my definition (based on personal insight) to Mr. Galbraith’s definition (based on very extensive research). I merely wish to present my own insight into the topic which will hopefully serve to arrive at a widely-accepted definition of moé.

So, Gundam Seed. Of all anime series, how could a mecha-infused exploration and scathing criticism of war provide any insight into the topic of moé? It happened watching the very first episode.

When I first saw Gundam Seed a few years back, I was completely oblivious to the whole concept of moé and typical moé archetypes such as maids, nurses, cat-girls, meganeko (girls with glasses), etc. I was also oblivious to the fandom behind the Gundam series, and what a significant-size audience it represents. I was just a recently initiated anime fan watching this series with no sort of prejudice whatsoever. And back then (in 2004, when it was licensed in the US by Bandai Entertainment) what I saw was this deep, smart exploration of the nature of modern warfare and the problem that lies in finding and protecting the right cause in a war, and thus bringing the conflict to a satisfactory conclusion.

Back then that was all I saw. And it was wonderful. Seeing as how anime is usually praised for its deep handling of meaningful, oftentimes philosophic themes, I couldn’t imagine any anime fan that could not like Gundam Seed. And yet there were anime fans that not only disliked, but outright hated Gundam Seed. I never understood how this could be, at least not until I rewatched Gundam Seed in 2009, now well-aware of moé in particular and anime fandom in general.

Seeing the first episode again (titled Phase 01: False Peace in the English translation) I noticed that I was suddenly bothered by things that I had once ignored. Specifically, I was bothered by elements in the presentation of the anime. While I always knew the character design was quite into bishounen (the rendering of men in super-stylized, somewhat effeminate styles) territory, I had always set my mind into ignoring the designs and focusing in the enthralling thematic, narrative, and character-development, as well as in reminding myself that not all characters were bishounen. But this time around, it bothered me. I started to wonder about this. What had changed in the last five years?

Thinking about what exactly bothered me, I eventually realized that what had changed was the fact that throughout those five years I had become well aware of the fanatic culture behind the anime industry. As my years as an anime fan went by, I started to become aware of the fact that the anime industry constantly dedicates itself to build fanaticism around very niche elements. And the fanatics that respond to these elements are known as otaku. Otaku fanatize things such as mechas (or giant robots), maids, catgirls, schoolgirls, and even bishoujo (beautiful renderings of women) and bishounen.

Watching Gundam Seed again with this new perception of anime, I suddenly became well aware of the fact that many such elements are present in the anime (aside from the obvious mechas, I mean). The main male characters target different bishounen archetypes (unlikely hero Kira, angsty-boy Athrun, effeminate-looking yet deep-voiced Yzak, little-kidish Nicol, and bad-boy Dearka, for example). Heroine Lacus Clyne starts out as an otaku-enamoring idol with the soft-spoken qualities that many said otaku like in their female characters. And another female main character, Cagalli, is a hybrid tomboy/tsundere (tsundere being an adjective for female characters that are tough and mean on the outside but are actually loving and feminine inside).

The truth is, while Gundam Seed has a powerful message, it is delivered though a vessel with an outer look that is meant to appeal to people who are fanatic about particular niche elements. Even the characters themselves, while having an otaku-aimed exterior are later on discovered to be profound characters whose personalities and interactions are very well thought-out. And it is precisely these exterior, otaku-aimed elements that were bothering me. Throughout the past 5 years I had become poignantly aware of them, and now I can no longer look past them.

But why were these elements bothering me? They bothered me because they are implemented in a way that detracts from the story. Seeing Kira and other male characters in their first outfit (an absurd piece you would expect of a bishounen design combining a female aesthetic with male qualities) felt completely out of place in the war-ravaged context of the rest of the first episode. Which made me think of how different people would react to the other niche elements included in the anime. How would some women react at Lacus’s first appearance as an otaku fantasy come true (even going so far as providing a shot of Lacus’s underwear in a later episode)?

And in analyzing this feeling, I suddenly made a startling conclusion: the annoyed feeling I got from the niche elements included in Gundam Seed is the same feeling I get from watching what is usually labeled as moé anime. Which in turn led me to understand that what turns me off about moé anime is precisely the inclusion of elements of niche appeal even to the point of overloading anime with it.

And that’s when the idea sprung to my mind. As Galbraith had mentioned in The Otaku Encyclopedia, the meaning of moé is widely accepted to be tied to the word 燃える which means to burn, which is in turn used as in the notion of burning with passion for something. Then, considering how moé anime is composed of niche elements with small followings of very avid fanatics, then I came to the conclusion that what moé is is those very elements.

Moé (燃え) is an adjective describing an object, whether concrete of abstract, that while it has a limited appeal, thus only being appreciated by a niche community, is the target of heavy fanatism from the small group of people that are appealed by it. Moé can also be used as a noun representing such objects of small appeal, but with frantic dedication.

A small community of people figuratively burn with intense passion for these objects that are categorized as moé. Whether it be maids, or catgirls, or bishounen, or even mecha (which while having a large audience is still niche within the broad scope of anime in general), all these elements that possess a huge appeal but only from a small amount of fervently dedicated followers (when compared to the size of the scope to which they belong) are all moé.

But after formulating this definition, thus finding peace with Gundam Seed, I was led to another startling conclusion. Anime have historically been built putting together a varied number of different moés. Gundam Seed itself is a prime example of this, as described earlier. Seeing anime in this light explains the origin of the one problem that anime has always faced: a small appeal and general backlash from society. Just as I was put off by the moé in Gundam Seed, everyone is put off by one moé or the other, and society as a whole is put off by the entire concept of moé.

Many of the most heinous crimes in any culture are the result of fanatic beliefs gone wrong. Murder, rape, and terrorism are just some of the examples of heinous crimes that may occur as a result of unhindered fanatism, especially the fanatism over things that have a niche appeal. In fact, many anime fans know of how a few of the most twisted criminals in Japan have been discovered to be obsessive anime, manga, and videogame fanatics.

What all of this means is that in order to expand the appeal of anime and really kick-start the anime industry, the creative talent behind anime have to at least severely reduce the amount of moé present in their anime.

The opposite of “moé” would be “mainstream”, describing things that are liked by the majority of people (within a particular scope), and usually not in a passionate manner. It’s a rather interesting coincidence that a stream is a body of water and moé implies the notion of burning passionately for something. However, as with anything, finding the perfect balance between opposites is the key to success. We can’t abandon moé altogether, or we will be left with something with the qualities that are bound to be liked by majorities (and as we know, majorities can’t be easily trusted).

Thus, the key to widening the appeal of anime and reviving the industry is striking something as close as possible to a perfect balance between maintream and moé, something that flows through society naturally like water but that generates followings with a good amount of passion, like a controlled flame.

Of course, this raises the conflict between diminishing moé while finding a larger audience, and integrating large amounts of moé while keeping the current audience alive in a struggling industry. But that is a chance that needs to be taken.

This will also help change the image of otaku as the people who burn for moés, which is ultimately the goal of Mr. Galbraith’s The Otaku Encyclopedia: An insider’s guide to the subculture of Cool Japan. I thank Mr. Galbraith for his wonderful book that strives to expose the world of otaku culture in an unbiased manner to better understand what it means and represents, but most of all to understand how to improve it.