BRAND NAME PRODUCT PHENOMENON IN JAPAN

November 30, 2005

Brand Name Product Phenomenon in Japan

Most Japanese people adore brand name products. Brand name products phenomenon is everywhere in the world, but it seems a kind of nature in Japanese life. For example, Japanese not only adore the real brand name products, such as, Gucci, Burberry’s, etc., but also are devoted to the companies or the school they work for. Along with this devotion comes deep respect for the companies’ name and reputation. Moreover, in order to buy brand name products, some Japanese teenagers even date businessmen to earn some money. This kind of behavior has existed in the world for long time, however, these teenagers give it a name, “Enjo-kosai”, which means, “support association” to rationalize the behavior. The confusion of teenagers’ sense of value has become on of the society problems in Japan. I want to know the reasons of the brand name products phenomenon, what kind of sense of value these teenagers have, and how Japanese look at this phenomenon, etc. Therefore, I did the project research in Japan for one month.

What is”Enjo-kosai”? Actually, it is teenage prostitution. Human beings have been familiar with prostitution for long time. There was only a simple paten could explain the prostitution before. The girls who couldn’t stand the boring life in the country hometown
and ran away to the city, in order to survive in the big city, they did the prostitution without any choice. However, nowadays, Japanese senior high students have usual life that senior high students are supposed to have, but do”Enjo-kosai”after the school. Japan is the only country where teenagers, who are not living in poverty, sell their bodies.

How did the teenager prostitution come into existence? About 10 years ago, “telephone clubs” began to open. A telephone club is a place where people wait for telephone calls from anyone to talk with. The number of telephone clubs increased very rapidly and in
the same time, the amount of people who used telephone clubs for sexual relations also dramatically increased.

Most of the girls are doing”Enjo-kosai” without any guilty because others are doing this and they don’t want to be different from others. One of the biggest reasons is because of the “cram education” or so-called “dogmatic education” they have. Asian students always accept what teachers said completely. We only get the answers our teachers give us; we don’t really go through the process of thinking. Compare to Western, Western teachers wouldn’t give their students answers directly, so students have to think about the answer by themselves. When they are thinking about the answers, they also create their creativity, imagination, and how to judge right and wrong. As a result of the different education environment, most of Asian students do not have their own opinions or how to judge right or wrong. So if others think the brand is good or the behavior is right, nobody would like to have a different opinion than others, even though he or she doesn’t actually like it. Furthermore, some of them choose to do “Enjo-kosai”, and regard this behavior as normal social life without any guilty. Doing the same things as others helps them find some
securities.

When I was doing the research in Japan, I did interview lots of Japanese people, I found out the thinking that these girls practicing “Enjo-kosai” have is that “If the man wants to pay money, there is no problem! Both of us can have fun and get the things we want (money for the girl and sex for the man) and we don’t bother anybody else, what’s the problem.” I think these girls don’t have the consciousness that money cannot get for them; the value of their pride is priceless. Japanese teenagers think it is good enough if they can have fun for that moment, and they don’t need to think about tomorrow. Tomorrow is tomorrow; today is today. The”Enjo-kosai” can be stated as their neglectful actions toward life, and the unenthusiastic attitude toward everything. They hide how they really feel and have sex with a stranger, just for the money, but they don’t think about future. I was wondering which is more valuable for these girls: The brand name products or their self?

Prostitution in Japan: A Young Body Worth a Profit

At a street corner, a young girl around the age of seventeen, dressed in a navy blue school uniform and white socks, stands looking vacantly into the street. After a few minutes a middle-aged man approaches the girl and offers to take her out to an expensive dinner; in addition, he offers her a satisfying amount of pocket money. With a shy, quivering glance and a sweet smile the girl graciously takes the man’s arm. On the corner of areas like Shibuya, a central Tokyo entertainment district, popular with Tokyo’s younger generation the scenario described has become a common and casual rendezvous (Moffett, “Little Women” 48). Japan, a country with the second strongest economy and highest academic standing in the world, is facing a major problem with a wide-spreading and popular after-school activity of its young female students. An increasing number of Japanese schoolgirls are soliciting their bodies for entertainment and extra “pocket” money in a society that is setting extremely high prices for them.

Enjo kosai, which translates as “subsidized socializing” or “patronage” or simply “prostitution,” is no longer a rare secret on the streets of Japan (Schreiber 84-85). There exist numerous outlets that are propagating the idea and helping teenage girls to find interested clients. Phone booths near train stations are plastered with phone numbers and photos of young schoolgirls, many from middle-class homes (Butler 44). Girls can also market themselves with commercial voicemail. Dial into a commercial voicemail and you can hear a message similar to the following: “I am a 16-year-old high school girl. I am looking for someone to meet me tomorrow for an enjo kosai arrangement. I am 165 centimeters tall and weigh 49 kilograms…I think I’m pretty cute. My price is 50,000 yen for about two hours” (Schreiber 83). Other wise a man can stroll along the street of Shibuya, Ueno or other district areas that are favorite hangouts for teenagers and pick up a young girl. Then he may take her to a karaoke clubroom or somewhere private and start negotiating the price for the evening. Japanese men can also find pleasure at “image clubs,” where they pay about $150 an hour to live out their wildest fantasies about schoolgirls (Kristof A6). In what are called telephone clubs, a man could pay a fee and then wait in a room for a call from a woman during which the two parties will make an arrangement to meet at another time for an enjo kosai. These clubs solicit women by advertising in magazines and newspapers, on subway trains, and by direct mail. Kleenex tissues with the club’s telephone number and address are even distributed at train stations (Morrison 3).

These outlets, major promoters of “sex for money,” have had a significant impact on the numbers of teenage girls engaging in prostitution, aiding the teen prostitute with finding customers and aggressively luring new young girls into prostitution. Allowing women to call at no charge, telephone clubs are one of the most popular tools schoolgirls use to meet interested men.

The number of teenage prostitutes began to climb around 1974. By 1984 the number reached alarming levels and is still increasing (Morrison 3). National Police Agency statistics for 1995 show that 5,841 female minors were involved in telephone club liaisons or other sex-related activities. One quarter of these girls were still in junior highschool. There was a 16.2 percent increase from previous years (Schreiber 86). The Tokyo Metropolitan Government survey of 110 schools in 1996 found that 4 percent of high-school girls, and 3.8 percent from junior high, had acted as paid escorts (Moffett, “little Women” 50).

Recently, in a national survey of 3,600 fourteen and fifteen-years-olds by the Congress of Parents’ and Teachers’ Associations, one quarter of the girls admitted to making frequent calls to the telephone club. The number of telephone clubs, commercial voicemail services, and other sex-related businesses has been growing–from 900 in 1992 to 2,164 in 1995–indicating that more young women are availing themselves of these sex-selling businesses.

Alice Yamada, a senior editor of the Trincoll Journal on the World Wide Web wrote about her two years spent in Japan:

I felt like I was left behind by all the aspects of ‘attractiveness’ in Japan, simply because I was not equipped in Chanel nor shielded by ten inches of MAC foundation as all the other girls were. I was plain and I looked poor. And the reality is that my wallet was very empty compared to that of those girls who carried beepers and cell phones to call up their “patrons” .

A friend of Yamada, Yukari, started building a career as a teenage prostitute at the age of fifteen. Her first experience was with a forty-year-old man whom she charged a mere 200 U.S. dollars because she was inexperienced at the time. After her first experience, she called Yamada in excitement, and the first thing she said was, “Let’s go to the mall now. I can get that Gaultier bag I always wanted!” When asked to stop, Yukari defended, “You’d never understand. You’re too spoiled to work for the things you want”.

There are many girls like Yukari, whose main concern is money. If they have money, these girls can buy whatever they want. Girls are selling themselves to buy designer fashions: the Burberry scarfs, Chanel handbags, and other designer must-haves. With the media accelerating the “necessity” for teenagers to look and dress like the movie actors and singers on television, most of Japan’s youth has become infatuated with expensive designer wear. Prostitution has become the means for young women to appear and remain in style.

Prostitution has a benefit to young women. With just the sacrifice of their body and without much excessive labor, they can make a great amount of money. A young girl working behind the counters at a fast-food restaurant would make about seven or eight hundred yen an hour. In comparison, she could earn 40 to 50 times that amount by having sex, or even by just spending time, with an older man (Schreiber 84). The money is a significant appeal.

Girls brought into police custody from a 1994 police round-up of several date clubs said, “they were not poverty-stricken, but wanted the money to buy expensive clothes” (Moffett, “Strange Moves” 30). According to reports it appears that “a client showered three hundred thousand yens worth of designer clothes on one girl. Another girl routinely demanded 70,000 yen a night for sex” (Moffett, “Strange Moves” 30). These young girls view sex as a clear form of acceptable capitalism. They see that they are in demand and that they are paid accordingly. “It’s O.K. as long as they pay me,” said sixteen years old Yuki Shinohara (Kristof A6). Nishijima, a Young Night editor, comments that these girls view their work just like another part-time job, similar to flipping burgers in McDonald’s, only for much better pay (Moffett, “Strange Moves” 30).

Instead of feeling ashamed for trading their bodies for currency and dinner at expensive restaurants, many girls are proud that they are able to make so much money on their own rather than pocket money from their parents. According to Yumi Yanmashita, a writer who has studied prostitution, many girls see their youth as a currency with a time limit, so they need to spend it before it expires. He says, “Girls see life ahead of them as becoming an old women” (Moffett, “Little Women” 50). Therefore, they want to take advantage of their ephemeral status as the icon of male fantasy (Moffett, “Litte Women” 48).

Several distinct societal factors also have contributed to the outbreak of teen prostitution. In Japan, sex and sexual relations are not viewed as moral issues as they often are in the Western countries and in the United States in particular. Japanese have traditionally viewed sexual relations as a natural phenomenon, “like eating, to be enjoyed in its proper place” (Morrison 1). Thus, prostitution is widely accepted as a natural component and even a
necessity in society. This “acceptance” of prostitution in Japanese society can be observed in their very relaxed laws against sex with children and prostitution, which says that it is legal in Tokyo for men to have sex with children as young as the age of twelve. Similarly, under an Antiprostitution Law in Japan, prostitution is deemed illegal, but in effect it is permitted to exist so long as authorities can control it (Morrison 3). These principles together with the existing consumer driven-society, in which the type of brand-name items people possess is an indication of their social status and wealth, a distancing gap between the young and older generation, and a present national obsession with schoolgirls as sexual objects, all augment the wave of teen prostitution in Japan.

The increase in teen prostitution is largely due to the generation gap that exits and is widening between the young and older generation of Japan. In a rapidly growing economy as in Japan, parents are working harder and longer to earn money. That leaves children to care for themselves, yielding them the growing freedom to live as they see fit. The growing independence and self-reliance developed causes the young people to become more distanced from their parents and other adults. They possess different societal and materialistic views from their parents and elders, developing an entire unique culture of values and beliefs from the traditions of thoughts taught to them. These young people have also been termed the “Generation X” in Japan. One particular differing view between the younger generation and their parents is in the matter of making money. While their parents believe in working long and hard and laboring sufficiently to make money, young people prefer to make money while having fun (Moffett, “Little Women” 48). “Having fun” in many young women’s cases means seeking out older men who want young escorts and will pay to take them out for the evening.

The moneymaking and entertainment, however, is only one side to the increase in teenage prostitution. A number of girls who are engaged in prostitution are driven to it by unhappiness and despair, which are produced by the same distancing between the young and old generations and augmented by family and societal problems. Many teen prostitutes admit to having frequent disagreements with their parents and siblings so they try to stay away from home a much as possible (Schreiber 85). In effect, these individuals become reluctantly disconnected from the family, the society, and its values.

Another major problem is the enormous pressures inflicted on Japanese students to do their best in school. The latest poll, conducted by the government’s Management and Coordination Agency in 1996, found that only forty-four percent of Japanese under twenty were actually happy with their lives, and sex is one form of rebellion to what Japanese psychiatrist Masao Miyamoto calls the “straitjacket society” (Hills 1-2). Under the pressure of a rigorous school system and extreme family and social expectations, it is easy for many teenagers to mentally collapse and simply stop caring. If the future is not worth thinking about, they begin to concentrate on the pleasure of the moment, and selling their bodies is an activity that yields them that pleasure.

The “image clubs” mentioned earlier exemplify yet another factor encouraging the increase in teen prostitution, a present national obsession by Japanese men for schoolgirls. Japan has coined a word for men with this preference, “Lolicon,” an abbreviation of “Lolita complex,” after Nabokov’s novel about a middle-aged man’s obsession with a young girl (Kristof A6). Masao Miyamoto, a male psychiatrist and author of a best-selling analysis of Japanese society, suggests that many Japanese men feel threatened by the growing sophistication of adult Japanese women. They desire to position themselves as superior to young girls (Kristof A6). In addition, Japanese cinema enhances that idea more by portraying sexual images and activities of Japanese men and young girls in a wide number of Japanese animation and movies. “Middle-aged Japanese men are willing to pay a premium to date girls in uniform” (Butler 44), and Japan’s sex industry is out to cater those men. More importantly the schoolgirls are fully aware of the high profitable demand for their bodies and companionship, which could easily entice them to engage in prostitution.

Teen prostitution is not shocking news that Japan has just witnessed for the first time. But during recent years, the spectacle of teenage schoolgirls selling their bodies to purchase designer clothes is making many Japanese uneasy. Currently, Tokyo Metropolitan Government is taking the steps to curb the acts when adults pay for sex with children under eighteen. Laws to punish those who solicit prostitution with teenagers are being decided upon. But laws simply against teen prostitution may not be enough. Many of the young prostitutes are willingly marketing their bodies, most of them operating on their own. They understand what they are doing and indicate that they see nothing wrong with having sex for money.

The problem is not only that the obsessed Japanese men are seeking out young companions but also the schoolgirls in uniform are enthusiastically seeking out their male patrons. In order to ameliorate the problem, the society will need to attack the root of the problem, working with and educating students to prevent further young girls from being involved in prostitution, helping to reform those who are, and, also taking actions against the promoters and “trafficker” of Japan’s sex-industry. Failure to act accordingly may eventually result in an increasing degeneration of morals and ethics in its young female generation.

Young, beautiful and innocent - Prostitution Japanese style

Those of you who take the time to read the following, thank you. I feel horrible because I can’t do anything with this problem and because it’s not considered a problem here in Japan. Japan likes to think of itself as a Western country, most Japanese don’t like the fact that they belong to Asia. But Japan is of course so different from the Europe I know. Very often the Japanese should be proud they aren’t European; the crime rate, the respect for each other and so much more. But the following makes me proud Japan isn’t a European country. It is tough on the AFS-mailing list to criticise another country, especially your host country (but we are all free to criticise USA…). I have tried to come to terms with the prostitution problem, to really accept it. But I can’t, it hurts me every day when I see the young girls in my high school who outside school sell sex. It has hurt all my AFS-friends here as well, so I felt it could be okay to tell you guys about it:

Tonight I saw it again. Japanese high school girls trying to sell sex. The girls can get big sums of money for doing this, the incentive is of course the money. The girls wore the garment that has totally taken over the kimono’s popularity; the miniskirt.

Foreigners who come to Japan for a short period of time won’t notice this. If you go to Thailand you will see fat old Germans and Norwegians on the beach with Thai children on their laps. Foreigners are disgusted by this. It stops normal people from going to the beautiful Thailand and creates a lot of other problems. For example the high AIDS rate, unemployment, crime and so on.

Japan is definitively more sophisticated. And Japan’s way doesn’t scare away
tourists.

It is pronounced “terekrabu” (teleclub) in Japanese. Notice that English words are combined to make up this word (anything sounding American is cool and accepted). All high school students know what a teleclub is. And 36% of all female high school students have called such a club. To make it worse, 25% of Junior high school girls have also called.

Let me describe how this works:

Only men go to these teleclubs. They have to pay to be there/get in. Girls call to the teleclub for free, and if things work out they’ll arrange a “date”.

It is impossible for a girl to stay one day in Tokyo without getting a commercial for a teleclub, phone numbers are printed on free tissues handed out all over Tokyo.

Girls call to the teleclubs for free, men sit there and wait.

This creates no big problems. Foreigners don’t notice this, only a few can read Japanese. And generally it stimulates growth more than it creates economic problems, the economy is after all the Japanese Government’s main (and only) concern.

The minimum age for having/selling sex in Tokyo is 14. Even though it is difficult to measure maturity, a Japanese 14-yearold is certainly less mature than a Norwegian at the same age rated on a Western scale. (I still haven’t figured out what the Japanese scale is like).

Personally I think prostitution is okay as long as the seller and buyer are both over the majority age in the respective country (only organised prostitution is outlawed in Norway), just to have that mentioned.

But what’s the sickening thing here in Japan is not only that children sell sex! The total ignorance of the problem is the worst. Women in Japan are used to being suppressed in various ways. They are discriminated in their jobs and forced to become housewives when they get children. For these reasons and more they don’t protest against this sex-sale.

So girls in my class tell me that it is completely accepted morally for 14-year oldsto sell sex and that they have no problems with it. Mothers don’t care. Teachers don’t care. Girls are expelled for smoking, but they are allowed to sell sex. Teachers may of course also take advantage of the students. In junior high schools it is normal for girls to give their teachers massages. And in high school teachers who sleep with students are not at all unknown.

I can’t see any good arguments defending this sex trade. The AFSers over here get a lot of inside information, especially my friends who are in only girl schools (I am sorry I can’t mention a fraction of what I know/have heard)

You may wonder why not more foreigners go to Japan to buy sex, the answer is: PRICES.

I can give you some examples. A girl I know sold her virginity for 1 million yen (60000NOK 10000 USD). That’s a lot of money, even in Japan a teenager can live on 10000 bucks for a while.

The girls today told me that they turned down today’s offer (it wasn’t good enough). They told me it’s possible to get 50-60000yen in Tokyo. These girls were real beauties (that kind of girls you would marry without knowing anything about their personality) so that raises the price.

Better stop here. Just wanted to show you what most AFSers here dislike the most about Japan. We all live after different values, but I am not planning to defend this sale pointing at cultural differences. Just wanted to tell you outsiders about this. Most people don’t get to see Japans’s backyard, now I have given you a glimpse of it.

I don’t remember which Asia-edition of Newsweek that dealt with this issue in December, but find that one if you are interested in knowing more (cover story).It was a great article that surely pissed of some Japanese politicians who would like to have kept “Japan’s dirty secret” (name of the article) a secret.

¿POR QUE EN ESTE JODIDO MEXICALI NO HAY MUJERES COMO ESTAS?

POSTS COMO ESTE APARECERAN HASTA QUE SE ESTABLEZCAN LOS VUELOS DIRECTOS MEXICALI-TOKYO CON DESCUENTO O HASTA QUE ALGUN EJEMPLAR EMO O DARKIE NOS HACKEE ESTE BLOG.

AMATEUR MANGA SUBCULTURE AND THE OTAKU PANIC

Sharon Kinsella
Published in the Journal of Japanese Studies Summer 1998

A limitless secret world of smoldering underground clubs where baby girls in bikinis wield Uzi submachine guns and Russian Eskimos Dj in Elizabethan court dress. Grey catacoombs of desserted rain-swept streets where beautiful women in impeccable Nazi uniforms sport unexpected erections. Nameless back streets scattered with the limpid green lights of opium-soaked noodle shacks where Oxford dons chop up giant squid for hungry pairs of lusty French school boys. Such is the stuff that amateur manga is made of. Within the fluid expanse of the amateur manga movement have crystallised fascinating and rare expressions of the more spontaneous and untempered fantasies of a broad section of contemporary Japanese youth. It is the largest subculture in contemporary Japan - as invisible as it is immense. In 1992 the movement peaked in size as over a quarter of a million young people gathered at amateur manga conventions in Tokyo. The majority of activists in amateur manga subculture are working class girls and what turns them on more than anything else is violent homosexual romance between male hermaphrodites. What turns the lads on is baby girls with laser guns. Their tastes, however, are not fashionable. Whatever happens to girls’ manga in Paris, - where little girls manga series such as Candy Candy and Sailor Moon recently became the toast of Montmarte, - amateur manga and its masses of girl artists, are not arty farty in Tokyo. The amateur manga movement is remarkable in that it has been organised almost entirely by and for teenagers and twenty-somethings. Amateur manga is not sent to publishers to be edited and distributed. It is, instead, printed at the expense of the young artists themselves and distributed within manga clubs, at manga conventions and through small adverts placed in specialist information magazines serving the amateur manga world. Through the 1980s it grew to gigantic proportions without apparently attracting the notice of academia, the mass media, the police, the PTA, or government agencies such as the Youth Policy Unit (Seishonen Taisaku Honbu), - which were established precisely to monitor the recurring tendency of youth to take fantastical departures from the ideals of Japanese culture.

In 1989, however, amateur manga subculture and amateur manga artists and fans were suddenly discovered, as if through infra-red binoculars, and dragged from their teaming obscurity to face television cameras and journalists, police interrogation and public horror. Amateur manga artists became powerfully characterised as anti-social manga otaku or ‘manga nerds’ in a sudden panic about the dangers of amateur manga, which spread through the mass media. Amateur manga artists, referred to as manga otaku, were rapidly made into symbols of Japanese youth in general, and became centre stage in a domestic social debate about the possible state of Japanese society which continued through the early 1990s.

The debate about youth in Japan

During the 1960s large sections of Japanese youth, both university students and lower-class migrant workers in urban areas, began to rebel against existing political, social and cultural arrangements.

Youth expressed their aspirations through radical political movements and a broad range of new popular cultural activities, in particular the manga medium which expanded hugely in the latter half of this decade. The political and cultural activities of this generation contributed to the enterprise of large culture industries in the 1970s, which made a market of the new intellectual interests and aesthetic tastes of postwar Japanese youth. Although the political point of youth radicalism became completely obscure by the early 1970s, younger generations, youth culture, and young women, became the focus of nervous discourse about the apparent decay of a traditional Japanese society.

Youth have come to constitute a controversial and often entirely symbolic category in postwar Japan. (White) youth cultures in the UK and the USA have, increasingly, been humorously indulged and wishfully interpreted as contemporary expressions of the irrepressible creative genius and spirit of individualism which made Britain a great industrial nation, and America a great democracy. But individualism (kojinshugi) has, as we know, been rejected as a formal political ideal in Japan. Institutional democracy not withstanding, individualism has continued to be widely perceived as a kind of a social problem or modern disease throughout the postwar period. Youth culture (wakamono bunka) which has flourished in Japan since the 1960s, has been identified as the magic cooking pot of postwar Japanese individualism and viewed in a particularly sour light by many leading intellectuals. Youth culture, symbolising the threat of individualism, has provoked approximately the same degree of condescension and loathing amongst sections of the Japanese intelligentsia, as far-left political parties and factions, symbolising the threat of communism, have provoked in the USA and the UK.

Individualism generally and youth culture in particular, have been interpreted, first and foremost, as a form of wilful immaturity or childishness. In 1971 Doi Takeo made his influential critique of contemporary Japanese society in the work The Anatomy of Dependence. Doi, an eminent psychoanalyst, argued, amongst other things, that postwar generations of Japanese youth expressed a desire to be indulged like children. In both the university campus riots of 1968 to 1970 and individualistic hippie culture, Doi Takeo saw the childish petulance of a dysfunctional generation, spoilt by the absence of a strong political father figure in Japan’s new postwar democracy. Postwar youth were, at the same time, suffering from the over-indulgence of their own modern parents. Doi finally concluded that a whole range of democratic advances, including the political challenge to racial, gender and national inequality, were a form of childishness:

“In practise, the tendency to shelve all distinctions - of adult and child, male and female, cultured and uncultured, East and West, in favour of a universal form of childish amae (dependent behaviour) can only be called a regression for mankind.”

In 1977, Okonogi Keigo, also a psychoanalyst by profession, published another influential Japanese critique of modern society titled The Age of the Moratorium People. Okonogi linked the childishness of Doi’s youth to the widespread rejection of civil society and of social obligations to fulfil certain designated adult roles in society. Okonogi observed that:

“Present day society embraces an increasing number of people who have no sense of belonging to any party or organisation but instead are oriented towards non-affiliation, escape from controlled society, and youth culture. I have called them the moratorium people.”

Criticisms of the immaturity and escapism of contemporary youth have been closely bound with criticisms of the contemporary manga medium. The principal reason for the enormous expansion of manga from a minor children’s medium to a major mass medium during the 1960s was precisely because university students began to read children’s manga instead of the classics. By spending hours with their noses buried in children’s manga books obtuse students demonstrated their hatred of the university system, of adults, and of society as a whole. Reading children’s manga came to be considered somewhat risqué and underground. From this period the qualities of introspection, immaturity, escapism and resistance to entering Japanese society, have been strongly equated with youth, youth culture, and manga. During the following decade the mass media and culture industries were criticised for encouraging the expansion of youth culture and its individualistic values across society. In 1980 youth were briefly referred to as the ‘crystal people’; passionless cultural connoisseurs somewhat akin to the characters of Brett Easton Ellis’ classic novel, American Psycho.

The crystal people were named after the title of the 1981 best-seller novel, Somehow Crystal by Tanaka Yasuo, which zoomed in on the sophisticated but empty and neurotic lives of fashionable students.
In 1985 a new term was coined in the media to describe, once again, a generation of youth born into relative affluence, with no experience of the poverty and hardships of the early postwar period. Young people became known as the shinjinrui, - a term which implied that young peoples’ behaviour was so entirely different to that of previous generations that they could in effect be described as a ‘New Breed’ of human. Despite the widespread use of the concept in media and academic analysis over the following decade, the New Breed remains a semi-mythological generation.

While in 1987 they were estimated to be in their “20s and early 30s” , five years later, in 1992, they were believed to be the “under 30s” , while six years later, in 1993, they were believed to be in their late teens and early 20s. Nevertheless, social scientist, Sashida Akio was able to estimate that by 1996 that the New Breed would consist of precisely 52 per cent of the population and 49 per cent of the workforce. While the shinjinrui were favoured by the media itself and a minority of social commentators like Hayashi Chikio, who felt that they would “be far less constricted in their thoughts and feelings than earlier generations” , they were more frequently described by social scientists, as the irresponsible, passive consumers of leisure and cultural goods. Nakano Osamu, a leading expert in the field of youth, described the New Breed in the following terms, which appear to directly credit them with causing the major characteristics - and problems - of a late industrial economy:

“Because of the New Breed’s preoccupation with pleasure and comfort, it choses pleasure over pain, recreation over work, consumption over production, appreciation over creation…”

Different sections of the media and in particular the visual media were suspected of exerting a pernicious influence over youth causing them to get lost in a realm of aesthetic, intuitive, irrational, and ultimately immature thought. Magazines devoted to help-wanted listings were accused of more directly encouraging young people to evade full time company careers. Social scientists suggested that the spread of youth culture and individualism through the media had produced a generation characterised by increasingly particularistic and narrow interests. Not only were youth resistant to entering society as mature adults, to becoming shakaijin (social citizens), but, it was observed, they had begun to loose all consciousness of affairs beyond their private hobbies. At the same time youth were criticised for their disturbing passivity and unwillingness to venture from their soft and comfortable private lives - variably referred to as “cabins”, “capsuals”, and “cocoons”. Japanese mass society it seemed was being transformed into “micromasses” by hordes of passive and introverted youth:

“What will become of JapanŠ if society continues to fragment into these self-satisfied, complacent micromasses? The[y] live in tiny cabins on a huge ship. They do not care if the sea is rough or calm, nor do they care what direction the ship is taking. Their only desire is for life to remain pleasant in their cabins.”

In the characterisation of amateur manga artists as otaku and the ensuing social debate about the behaviour and psychology of Japanese youth involved with manga, key themes of previous debates about youth re-surfaced in new forms. Otaku were portrayed as a section of youth embodying the logical extremes of individualistic, particularistic and infantile social behaviour. In their often macabre descriptions of otaku lifestyle and subculture, social scientists conveyed, perhaps, their deeper anxieties about the general characteristics of Japanese society in the 1990s.

Mini communications and Amateur Manga Printing

At the beginning of the 1970s cheap and portable offset printing and photocopying facilities rapidly became available to the public.

Amateur manga and literature of any kind could now be reproduced and distributed cheaply and easily, creating the possibility of mass participation in unregistered and unpublished forms of cultural production. During the early 1970s the new possibilities opened up by this technology also meant that it was relatively easy for individuals to set up small publishing and printing companies. Many ex-radical students who had ruined their chances of joining a good company through their political activities, or who were turning their energies to youth culture for other reasons, set up one-man publishing companies producing small, erotic or specialist culture magazines, many of which also contained sections of more unusual manga. Others established small offset printing companies which gradually began to specialise in printing short-runs of amateur manga to professional standards for individual customers.

Using the services of the new mini printing companies, individuals in all walks of life could now print and reproduce their own work without approaching publishing companies. This twilight sphere of cultural production, existing beneath the superstructure of mass communications, (mass commi) became known as the mini communications (mini commi). The structure of Japanese mini commi corresponds closely to the type of Anglo-American fanzine networks described by John Fiske as “shadow cultural economies”.

With regard to its amateur, uncentralised and open structure the printed mini commi medium can be usefully compared to the computer internet during the 1990s. One of the most extensive forms of mini communications in Japan was to become printed amateur manga.

Contemporary printed amateur manga are known as dojinshi - a term previously used to refer to pamphlets or magazines distributed within specific associations or societies. Alongside the growth of the commercial manga industry, and following the development of cheap offset printing and photocopying facilities, the number of manga artists and fans printing and distributing editions of their own amateur manga dojinshi began to increase, first slowly in the 1970s, and then rapidly during the 1980s.

In 1975 a group of young manga critics, Aniwa Jun, Harada Teruo and Yonezawa Yoshihiro, founded a new institution to encourage the development of unpublished amateur manga. The institution was Comic Market (also known by the abbreviations Comiket and Comike); a free space in the form of a convention held several times a year where amateur manga could be sought and sold. Yonezawa Yoshihiro, the current president of Comiket explained how it was established as a response to the official, commercial manga industry:

“All the independent comics and meeting places of the 1960s were disappearing by 1973 to 1974, and then COM magazine folded. It was a regression, from being able to publish all kinds of stuff in mainstream magazines to only being able to publish unusual stuff in dojinshi underground magazines. But what else can you do, but start again from the underground?”

Large publishing companies ceased to systematically produce radical and stylistically innovatory manga series around 1972, because they no longer matched sufficiently closely the changed interests of their mass audiences. New manga artists and fans interested in developing new forms of expression in manga, were forced to turn to amateur production as an alternative outlet for unpublishable matter. After this point of technological and commercial transition the amateur manga medium rapidly developed an internal momentum, partially independent of developments in commercial manga publishing.

Between 1975 and 1984, Comic Market was held on three days a year, after which point attendance grew so large that it was rescheduled to two weekend conventions held in the Tokyo Harumi Trade Centre, in August and December. At the first Comic Market held in December 1975, 32 amateur manga circles, and 600 individuals, attended. These figures grew slowly between 1975 and 1986, and then rapidly between 1986 and 1992. Comic Market became the central organisation of the amateur manga medium, the existence of which encouraged the formation of new amateur manga circles, in high schools, in colleges and amongst amateur manga artists with similar interests across the country. Attendance figures of Comic Market provide a useful illustration of the proportions and growth of the amateur manga medium, which is otherwise a remarkably invisible subculture in Japanese society.

Since 1993, 16 000 separate manga circles, distributing one or more amateur works produced by their members, have participated in each Comic Market convention. In fact there have been approximately 30 000 applications from manga circles wishing to attend each convention throughout the 1990s but no more than 16 000 stalls can be accommodated in the Harumi Trade Centre. A proportion of this excess demand to attend conventions is absorbed by the organised staggering of conventions over two days and also by a recently established rival convention, known as Super Comic City, which is now held in the Harumi Trade Centre each April.

These figures give an accurate indication of the number of amateur manga circles across the country, which was estimated at anywhere between 30 000 and 50 000 during the early 1990s. The amount of amateur manga being produced and distributed has increased greatly since around 1988, and may now total anything from about 25 000 separate works a year upwards.
Amateur manga business

Comic Market is ostensibly a voluntary, non-profit making organisation, but a range of other commercial enterprises have begun to grow on the margins of the amateur manga pool. In 1986 specialist amateur manga printer Akabubu Tsushin launched Wings amateur manga conventions, and in 1991 Tokyo Ryuko Centre (TRC) set up Super Comic City conventions. Both of these companies hold small to medium sized conventions in towns across the country every few weeks. It is possible for amateur manga artists and fans to visit a convention to find contacts and friends or to search out new amateur manga every other weekend, though in fact many smaller conventions are limited to specific genres of amateur manga of interest to just one particular group of amateur manga artists.

Timetables of convention dates and locations are advertised in several monthly magazines devoted to the amateur manga world. In the mid-1970s low-circulation magazines such as June (San Shuppan), Peke (Minori Shobo) Again, Tanbi and Manga Kissatengai were established. The first of these magazines, entitled Manpa (Manga Wave) was launched in 1976 and its scions continue to occupy the organisational centre of the amateur manga medium. In 1982 Manpa magazine split into: Puff which specialises in amateur girls’ manga, and Comic Box, which covers all amateur manga from a distinctive leftist political position. These magazines also carry adverts for small dojinshi publishers, dojinshi books and anthologies, meeting places for amateur artists, and small specialist manga book shops which may also sell some dojinshi. Comic Box magazine also publishes manga criticism, interviews with manga artists, and otherwise unrecorded indexes of all published manga matter.

An increasing number of small companies have also begun to publish amateur manga itself. Fusion Productions, which makes Comic Box magazine, also publishes Comic Box Jr., a three hundred page monthly magazine in which collections of already printed and distributed amateur manga organised by specific genre or sub-genre are published, and collected anthologies of dojinshi, which so far include a now infamous, erotic, three-volume series entitled The Lolita Syndrome (Bishojo Shokogun) published in 1985. In addition to small publishers, the growth of the amateur manga medium has provided custom for a large number of small printing shops such as P-Mate Insatsu, and Hikari Insatsu, many of which specialise solely in the production of dojinshi.

Other commercial enterprises directly linked to the amateur manga medium are large manga shops which cater to the specialist requirements of amateur manga artists and fans. In 1984 a chain of manga shops entitled Manga no Mori (Manga Forest), sprang up in the Shinjuku, Takadanobaba, Kichijoji, Higashi Ikebukuro, sub-centres of Tokyo. In 1992, Mandarake, a multi-storey manga superstore, opened in another centre of Tokyo, Shibuya, in which staff wear costumes fashioned after those of better-known manga characters.

Amateur manga artists

In the second half of the 1970s when Comic Market was still a relatively small cultural gathering, a high proportion of dojinshi artists graduated from amateur to professional status. Ishii Hisaichi, Saimon Fumi, Sabe Anoma, Kono Moji, Takahashi Hakkai, and Takahashi Rumiko, all printed dojinshi and distributed them at Comic Market, subsequent to becoming famous, professional artists. As the size of the amateur medium grew in the 1980s this flow of artists into commercial production decreased sharply.

The amateur manga movement reached its peak size in 1990 to 1992, when a staggering quarter of a million amateur artists and fans attended Comic Market. Amateur manga conventions are the largest mass public gatherings in contemporary Japan. Though it is not only in this regard that manga conventions bear a sociological significance similar in some senses to that of football in Europe. Most of these contemporary artists and fans are aged between their mid-teens and late-twenties. Although no statistics have been recorded, Yonezawa Yoshihiro has also observed that young Japanese from low-income backgrounds, typically raised in large suburban housing complexes, and attending lower ranking colleges, or without higher education, are in the majority at Comic Market. The significance of this observation is not straightforward. Despite the academic and media attention given to higher education and the emergence of a universal middle-class in contemporary Japan, the majority of young Japanese do not go on to higher education, and of those that do, a large proportion attend low-ranking colleges. At the same time the majority of Japanese people now live in suburban housing complexes and apartment blocks. While this could be taken to suggest that the sociological composition of Comic Market is therefore ’standard’ and ‘representative’, the significance of this observation is, perhaps, that this is one of the very few cultural and social forums in Japan, (or any other industrialized country), which is not dominated by privileged and highly-educated sections of society.

This observation is particularly interesting in light of the high-levels of interest in self-education and the accumulation of cultural information which can be observed within the amateur manga world. By applying Bourdieus’ theory of the ‘cultural economy’ to Anglo-American fanzine subcultures, John Fiske has developed the theory that these subcultures can operate as ’shadow cultural economies’ providing individuals who feel lacking in official cultural capital, - namely education, - and the social status with which it is rewarded, with an alternative social world in which they can get access to a different kind of cultural capital and social prestige. It is possible that the intense emphasis placed, firstly, on educational achievement, and secondly, on acquiring a sophisticated cultural taste, in Japan since the 1960s, has also stimulated the involvement of young people excluded from these officially recognised modes of achievement, with amateur manga subculture.

Nevertheless a fraction of the rapid growth of the amateur manga medium at the end of the 1980s is accounted for by the arrival of teenage artists from privileged backgrounds at amateur manga conventions. These new participants, some of them the students of elite universities, are attributed to parents who were active in the counter-culture and political movements of the late 1960s, and have passed on both their class and some of their positive attitude towards manga to their children.

The huge proliferation of dojinshi production in the wake of the mini communications boom which allowed many ordinary Japanese youth to begin producing amateur manga, meant that by the 1980s virtually all amateur manga was being made, not by highly-skilled professional artists seeking alternative outlets for their personal work, but by young artists who had no relationship with the manga publishing industry at all. Of the tens of thousands of dojinshi writers active in the medium during the 1980s, only a handful went on to become professional artists. The originally tight relationship between amateur and professional manga production became looser.

In an attempt to direct some of these amateur artists towards commercial production, the Comic Market Preparation Committee began publishing an annual journal designed to promote amateur manga artists. In this journal, Comiket Origin, published every summer, 15 to 20 amateur artists of the best selling dojinshi of the previous year are reviewed and introduced to the public.

Early in the development of Comic Market it became evident that printed amateur manga was providing an unexpected new gateway into the manga medium for Japanese women. Though Disney animation and the cute children’s manga characters created by Tezuka Osamu had long been popular with young women, very few of them became manga artists before 1970. Commercial manga was dominated by boys’ and adults’ magazines, and these publishing categories continue to represent the mainstream of the medium and the publishing industry today. In 1993, adult manga for men represented 38.5 per cent; boys’ manga represented 39 per cent; while girls’ manga represented only 8.8 per cent, of all published manga. The number of women making dojinshi increased quickly after the establishment of Comic Market, so that the first result of the sudden increase in the general accessibility of the manga medium was a new amateur manga movement engendered by women. In the mid-1970s a group of female artists producing “small quantities of extremely high-quality manga” emerged, and became known as the ‘1949 Group’ (nijuyon-nen gumi), after the year in which a number of them were born. These artists, including Hagio Moto, Oshima Yumiko, Yamagisha Ryoko and Takemiya Keiko, joined other earlier dojinshi artists who had become professional manga artists, when they filtered into commercial girls’ manga magazines.

Until 1989, approximately 80 per cent of dojinshi artists attending Comic Market were female, and only 20 per cent male. Since 1990, however, male participation in Comic Market has increased to 35 per cent. The girls’ manga genre continues to dominate amateur production but, and this is a point of great interest, it has now been adopted by male dojinshi artists. The increase in male attendance of Comic Market after 1988 was another factor contributing to the rapid proliferation of the amateur medium at this time.

New genres of girl’s manga written by and for boys sprouted from the fertile bed of the amateur manga medium. Some universities began to boast not only manga clubs, but also, girls’ manga clubs for men. This manga and those men became the unlucky focus of the otaku panic.

Genre evolution within amateur manga

The realistic, adult-oriented gekiga style, which arose out of anti-establishment manga subculture in the late 1950s, and had a strong influence on the genres utilised within commerical boys’ and adult manga, has not been a big influence on contemporary amateur manga. Amateur manga production, has been far more influenced by girls’ manga, which in turn has far greater stylistic continuity with the less politically controversial tradition of child-oriented, cute, sometimes fantastical, manga style pioneered by Tezuka Osamu. Not only do amateur and commercial manga diverge in their stylistic origins but the social networks of amateur and professional artists have become so separate that they represent two virtually separate cultural media. From amateur manga subculture have emerged new genres which are distinctly recognisable as amateur in origin.

In the early 1980s, dojinshi artists began to produce not only new, original works, but a new genre of parody manga. Parody is based on revised versions of published commercial manga stories and characters. While often radically altering the content of original stories and implicitly criticising the morality of the original themes, parody does not always imply a visible re-rendering of texts.

The first commercial manga series to attract a whole wave of amateur parodies in the first half of the 1980s was Spaceship Yamato (Uchusenkan Yamato). As the amateur manga medium expanded, the proportion of dojinshi artists producing parody instead of original works increased too. By 1989, 45.9 per cent of material sold at Comic Market was parody, whilst only 12.1 per cent was original manga.

Most parody manga have been based on leading boys’ manga stories serialised in commercial magazines. Stories in the top-selling magazine, Jump, such as Dragon Ball, Yuyuhakusho, Slam Dunk, and Captain Tsubasa, have been particularly frequent sources of parody. Parody based on animation rather than manga series, and referred to as aniparo (an abbreviation of animation-parody), became more popular from the mid-1980s onwards. In the same period cosplay (an abbreviation of costume-play), where manga fans dress up in the costumes of well-known manga characters and perform a form of live parody at amateur manga conventions, also became widespread.

Dojinshi artists categorised their style of manga, which is dominant in both parody and original work, as yaoi. This word is a three syllable anagram, ya-o-i, composed of the first syllable of each of the following three phrases; “yama nashi, ochi nashi, imi nashi”. These phrases mean “no build-up, no foreclosure, and no meaning”, and they are frequently cited to describe the almost total absence of narrative structure which has been typical of amateur manga from the mid-1980s onwards. In yaoi manga the symbolic appearance of characters, and emotions attached to characters situations, have become far more important than the traditional plot. The narrative or story-line, which in many ways is the only remaining link between manga and works generally understood as high-literature, has been very much abandoned to commercial manga publishers, for whom it continues to be of varied but generally substantial importance. Yaoi is also characterised by its main subject matter, that is homoerotica and homosexual romance between lead male characters of the work. Typical homosexual characters are pubescent European public school-boys, or muscular young men with long hair and feminine faces who’s partners are essentially beautiful women with male genitals. Girls’ manga featuring gay love is sometimes identified as june mono (after the girls’ manga magazine June), while love stories about beautiful young men are also known as bishonen-ai. Although the characters of these stories are biologically male, in essence they are ideal types, combining favoured masculine qualities with favoured feminine qualities.

Readers are likely to directly identify with ‘gay male’ lead characters, - and often the slightly more effeminate male of a couple. In the context of the obvious range of restrictions on behaviour and development that women experience in contemporary society, young female fans feel more able to imagine and depict idealised strong and free characters, if they are male.

Interpreting the themes of amateur manga

Comic Market president, Yonezawa Yoshihiro, sees the expansion of parody in manga as an attempt to struggle with and subvert dominant culture, on the part of a generation of youth for whom mass culture, which has surrounded them from early childhood, has become their dominant reality. In this context Yonezawa interprets parody as a highly critical genre which attempts to remodel and take control of “cultural reality”. Manga critic Kure Tomofusa, on the other hand, believes that the highly personal (jiheiteki) themes of parody manga represent, not a critical sensibility, so much as a return to the previous safe themes of Japanese literature:

“In 1980 people once again began to forget about dramatic social themes and manga began to move towards petty, repetitive, personal affairs, rather like the I-novels (shishosetsu) of the pre-1960 period. In the 1980s new kinds of love-comedies, often within parody, began in and dominated the amateur printed manga world.”

Yonezawa, representing the more open-minded approach of many independent media-based specialists, attempts to perceive a progressive political spirit, which is equivalent with that born by his own generation of the late 1960s, in the cultural activities of amateur manga subculture. Kure, however, insists in a critical appraisal of the themes of amateur manga, and finds them seriously wanting in tangible social and political content. This view is one shared by many editors and artists involved with the commercial manga medium. The implication of this criticism of parody manga is that the defintion of ‘originality’ applied to manga, is something linked to the degree to which it embraces current social and political events. ‘News’, it appears, has a more than merely linguistic association with ‘originality’. Amateur manga, whether parody or original work, is widely judged to be low quality culture, because it lacks direct references to social and political life.

In a survey that I distributed at random to 40 amateur manga artists at Comic Market in August 1994, the respondents were divided in their opinions about parody manga. A total of 29 respondents returned the survey, and of these, 19 respondents said they preferred parody to original manga. Of these people, 10 respondents cited that it was “more interesting”, as their reason for either producing or buying parody manga. Another 9 of the 19 respondents who claimed to prefer parody to original manga, cited that it was either “easier to understand” or that they were “not capable of making original manga”. The remaining 10 respondents claimed not to like parody manga at all, because it was “not interesting”. Thus, approximately one third of respondents, who were all Comic Market participants, did not like parody manga at all, another third said they liked parody manga because it was more interesting, and a final third said they liked parody manga because it was easier to write and to understand than original manga.

These judgements, made by convention participants, confirm that producing and appreciating parody manga is, amongst other things, an easier task for many amateur artists than producing original characters and stories. Creating new manga scenarios and characters that work, is a far more challenging intellectual task than making new versions of already developed manga stories borrowed from popular boys’ manga magazines. The presence of the amateur manga medium, which has allowed a great number of ordinary, proportionately less-talented individuals access to producing manga, may have had the effect of lowering the standards of amateur manga and encouraging the expansion of the parody genre.

Despite this dependence of amateur manga on commercial manga for it’s scenes and characters, it is clear that parody manga has nevertheless developed as a qualitatively separate master-genre in its own right, in which the traditional and commercial understanding of originality has come to have less meaning.

Parody manga often contains an element of satirical humour which makes light fun of the seriousness of the masculine heroes in commercial boys and adult manga series’. While, on the one hand, parody positively celebrates these favourite manga characters, on the other hand, it also pierces their authority and aloofness, by inserting scatological humour or embarrassing jokes about their sexual desires. The overall effect of this type of naughtiness in parody manga is to make the parodied characters more falliable, allowing readers to feel more intimate towards them. This aspect of the amateur manga sense of parody is similar to aspects of the Anglo-American sensibility of Camp. Both of these cultural modes, are based on the subversion of meanings carried in original, and frequently iconic, cultural items. Morevover in the case of both parody and Camp, this playful subversion, is focused particularly on cultural items which contain strongly identified gendertypes.

Through parody manga, a large vanguard of young women, have developed a cultural form which expresses an ambiguous preoccupation with, and a deep uncertainty about, masculine gender stereotypes, such as those typical of the characters in weekly boys’ and adults’ manga magazines.

Many of the men involved in the amateur manga medium perceive girls’ manga, and the female mileu surrounding it to be a progressive cultural scene, within contemporary society. In 1992, an article appeared in the Nihon Keizai Shimbun about a salary man who wrote girls’ manga, which was strategically titled ‘Active Citizenship through Girls’ Manga’. In the article the man explained how, in his opinion, writing amateur girls’ manga was not an escapist activity, but something that actively engaged him with society in a way in which working for a publishing company (producing original manga dramas) could not. Implicit in this man’s comments was a criticism of the purpose of Japanese corporations and the masculine culture through which men working for them communicate. This is an attitude shared by many other male fans of girls’ manga including the editorial staff of the magazine Comic Box.

Towards the end of the 1980s, however, the number of men attending amateur manga conventions increased and new genres of boys’ amateur manga began to rise in prominence at Comic Market.

A type of ultra-cute girls’ manga written by, and for, men was grafted from the styles of manga pioneered by female artists and used in small girls’ manga story magazines, such as Ribbon and Margaret. The genre into which the majority of this male girls’ manga falls is aptly referred to as Lolicom - this term being derived from the Lolita complex concept. Complex, in this case, being the operative word. Lolicom manga usually features a voluptuous girl heroine with large eyes and a pre-pubescent body, scantily clad in an outfit which approximates a cross between a 1970s bikini and a space-age suit of armour. She is liable to be cute, tough and clever. The attitude towards gender expressed in amateur Lolicom manga, is clearly different to that expressed by the male fans of girls’ manga, including gay love stores and parody.

Despite the differences of these particular male attitudes, the themes by which amateur manga genres have become defined have in common a similar preoccuption with gender and sexuality. Amateur manga genres express a range of problematic feelings young people are harbouring towards established gender stereotypes, and by association, established forms of sexuality.

While young people engaged with amateur manga do not fit the social definition of homosexuality, they share some of the uncertainties and modes of cultural expression, more commonly associated with contemporary gay culture. Yaoi, june mono, parody and Lolicom express the frustration experienced by young people, who have found themselves unable to relate to the opposite sex, as they have constituted and located themselves, within the contemporary cultural and political environment. There is, in short, a profound disjuncture between the expectations of men and the expectations of women in contemporary Japan. Young women have became increasingly unwilling to accept relationships with men who can not treat them as anything other than ‘women’ and subordinates. Men who persist in macho sexist behaviour, - like that often depicted in boys and adults manga magazines, - are gently ridiculed and rejected by the teenage girls involved in writing parody manga, or reading gay love stories. Young men who also find this type of masculine behaviour and networking, which is concentrated within corporate culture, restricting and uncomfortable, have also been attracted to amateur girls’ manga.

The themes of Lolita complex manga written by and for men, on the other hand, express the both the fixation with, and resentment felt towards, young women, by another group of young men.

Despite the inappropriateness of their old-fashioned attitudes, many young men have not accepted the possibility of a new role for women in Japanese society. These men who are confounded by their inability to relate to assertive and insubordinate contemporary young women, fantasise about these unattainable girls in their own boys’ girls’ manga. The little girl heroines of Lolicom manga reflect simultaneously an awareness of the increasing power and centrality of young women in society, and also a reactive desire to see these young women dissarmed, infantilised, and subordinate.

From a broad perspective, both the obsession with girls relieved through Lolicom manga, and the increasing interest amongst young men in (girls’ own) girls’ manga, reflect the growing tendency amongst young Japanese men to be fixated with the figure of the girl and to orientate themselves around girls’ culture. The increasingly intense gaze with which young men examine girls and girls manga, is, in the words of Anne Allison, “both passive and aggressive”. It is a gaze of both fear and desire, stimulated not least, by a sense of lost priviliges over women, which accumulated during the 1980s.

Amateur manga in Britain and the United States

Often, points of striking and unexpected similarity between cultural trends in contemporary Japan and those of other late industrial societies provide social insights which are at least as profound as those discovered at points of cultural difference, which are almost habitually focused upon in the academy. Points of similarity in the cultural developments of different societies illustrate the pervasiveness of international social and cultural processes. Amateur manga is a good example of this point. Genres which have arisen out of Japanese amateur manga subculture in the 1980s bear striking similarities to a genre which has been present in the cultural output of television and comic fans in the United States and the United Kingdom since the early 1970s. Fine art drawings and paintings and literary parodies of popular television series, such as Starsky and Hutch, M*A*S*H, Star Trek, and most recently, Alien Nation, from the USA, and Red Dwarf in the UK, are a central constituent of Anglo-American fanzine subculture. Moreover, the addition of homoerotica and homosexual romance to these fanzines is also prevalent. Anglo-American homoerotic amateur fanzines are referred to as ‘K/S’, or more simply still ’slash’ (/), in reference to the frequently portrayed relationship between Kirk and Spock, in fanzine versions of the program Star Trek. The yaoi style emerging from Japanese dojinshi is clearly the Japanese equivalent of Anglo-American slash. Other similarities between yaoi and slash are the absence of a strong narrative structure and the particular fascination with space exploration adventures: for Anglo-American fanzines about Star Trek and Dr. Who substitute Japanese manga parodies of Spaceship Yamato and Captain Tsubasa.

In fact there are actual links between amateur manga and fanzine production in these different countries. The most rapidly growing sector of British fan culture in the 1990s has been concerned with Japanese manga or animation, while so called ‘Japanimation’ has been a popular category of American fan culture since the mid-1970s. Japanese animation companies have stimulated the interest of foreign fan audiences since the late 1970s as a market-opening devise to introduce Japanese animation products to wider American audiences. Most fan interest in Japanese animation in the UK was stimulated by the release of Otomo Katsuhiro’s animated film AKIRA and the establishment of the magazine Anime UK, in 1990. Other British magazines for new fans of Japanese animation are Manga Mania, launched in 1993, and Anime FX, launched in 1996. The popularity of Japanese animation in Britain occurred at the same time as the explosion in growth of the amateur manga medium in Japan from the end of the 1980s into the early 1990s. The genres of animation which have become popular within the new fan cultures in Britain and the United States, and which dominate animation video imports, are derived from Lolicom manga which arose out of the amateur manga medium in the late 1980s.

Girls’ manga written exclusively by and for men, and featuring cute little girls, typically wielding heavy weaponry and fighting for survival in science fiction worlds, has been the principal influence on Japanese animation favoured in Britain in the 1990s. The preoccupation with converting serialised dramas into homoerotic parodies which emerged spontaneously amongst women in both the UK and America, and in Japan, suggests that all of these women have undergone essentially similar social and cultural experiences.

It is not so much the often cited differences between the role of women in USA and Japan, so much as the implied similarity of their experiences, which is the source of fascination here. At the same time, the popularity of Japanese animation and manga influenced by the Lolicom style, in the UK and USA during the 1990s, suggests that many young men in the UK, USA and Japan are also experiencing quite similar circumstances, leading to closely allied tastes and interests. This type of international manga and fanzine subculture, emerging spontaneously from within amateur media outside of the official organisation of the media and culture industries, suggests, moreover, that the degree to which the media and culture industries in each of these countries actively produces a specifically national culture, is extensive.

The amateur manga panic

In 1989 amateur manga artists and amateur manga subculture became the subject of what might be loosely categorised as a ‘moral panic’ of the sort first defined at the end of the 1950s by British sociologist, Stanley Cohen. A sudden genesis of interest in amateur manga artists and Comic Market, amongst the media, began with the arrest of a serial infant-girl killer. Between August 1988 and July 1989, 26-year old printers’ assistant, Miyazaki Tsutomu abducted, murdered and mutilated four small girls, before being caught, arrested, tried and imprisoned. Camera crews and reporters arriving at Miyazaki’s home discovered that his bedroom was crammed with a large collection of girls’ manga, Lolicom manga, animation videos, a variety of soft pornographic manga, and a smaller collection of academic analyses of contemporary youth and girls culture. Miyazaki was a fan of girls’ manga and in particular Lolicom manga and animation, and it was revealed that he had written some animation reviews in dojinshi and had been to Comic Market.

A heavily symbolic debate ensued Miyazaki’s arrest, in which his alienation and lack of substantial social relationships featured as the ultimate cause of his anti- social behaviour. The apparent lack of close parenting given to him by his mother and father; his subsequent immersion into a fantasy world of manga; and the recent death of Miyazaki’s grandfather - with whom he had apparently had his only deep human relationship; were posited as the serial causes of his serial murders. Emphasis on the death of Miyazaki’s grandfather implied that the decline of Japanese-style social relations represented by older generations of Japanese fulfilling traditional social roles had contributed to Miyazaki’s dysfunctional behaviour. Emphasis on Miyazaki’s apparently careless upbringing suggested, at the same time, that freer contemporary relationships were no substitute for fixed traditional social relationships, and that there was no real communication between modern, liberal parents of the 1960s generation and their children. Several journals described how Miyazaki’s mother had neglected her son so that, “By the time he was two years old he would sit alone on a cushion and read manga books.”

Where his family had failed to properly socialise Miyazaki, the media, it was suggested, had filled this gap, providing a source of virtual company and grossly inappropriate role models. While one headline exclaimed that in the case of Miyazaki “The little girls he killed were no more than characters from his comic book life”, psychoanalyst, Okonogi Keigo, worried that: “The danger of a whole generation of youth who do not even experience the most primary two or three way relationship between themselves and their mother and father, and who cannot make the transition from a fantasy world of videos and manga to reality, is now extreme”.

Following the Miyazaki case, reporters and television documentary crews visited amateur manga conventions, and specialist manga shops. Amateur manga culture was repeatedly linked to Miyazaki, creating what became a new public perception, that young people involved with amateur manga are dangerous, psychologically-disturbed perverts.

The birth of the otaku generation

Otaku, which translates to the English term ‘nerd’, was a slang term used by amateur manga artists and fans themselves in the 1980s to describe ‘weirdoes’ (henjin). The original meaning of otaku is ‘your home’ and by association, ‘you’, ‘yours’ and ‘home’. The slang term otaku is witty reference both to someone who is not accustomed to close friendships and therefore tries to communicate with this peers using this distant and over-formal form of address, and to someone who spends most of their time on their own at home. The term was ostensibly invented by dojinshi artist, Nakamori Akio, in 1983. He used the word otaku in a series entitled ‘Otaku no Kenkyu’ (Your home investigations) which was published in a low-circulation Lolicom manga magazine, Manga Burikko (Manga Cutie- Pie).

After the Miyazaki murder case, the concept of an otaku changed its meaning at the hands of the media. Otaku came to mean, in the first instance Miyazaki, in the second instance, all amateur manga artists and fans, and in the third instance all Japanese youth in their entirety. Youth were referred to as otaku youth (otaku seishonen), otaku-tribes (otaku-zoku), and the otaku-generation (otaku-sedai). The sense that this unsociable otaku generation were multiplying and threatening to take over the whole of society was strong. While the Shûkan Post put about the fear that: “Today’s Elementary and Middle Schools Students: The Otaku Tribe Are Eclipsing Society”, Social A thropologist, Otsuka Eiji, confirmed that “It might sound terrible, but there are over 100 000 people with the same pastimes as Mr. M. - we have a whole standing army of murderers.”
Police action against amateur manga

The practical results of the new and hostile attention directed at amateur manga were the partial attempts of Tokyo metropolitan police to censor sexual images in unpublished amateur manga and prevent their wider distribution at conventions and in specialist book shops. In 1993 guidance about the appropriate contents of dojinshi were distributed at Comic Market for the first time. The Comic Market preparation committee determined to attempt the enforcement of public bylaws prohibiting the sale of sexually explicit published materials to minors of 18 years and under, despite the fact that a large proportion of amateur manga is produced and sold by minors. In the Comic Market participant application brochure of August 1994, organisers warned amateur artists that, “Comic Market is not an alternative society, it is a vehicle orchestrated by you which thinks about its useful role in society. It has become necessary for us to seek social acceptance.”

Eventually manga fan culture and amateur unpublished manga also became the target of extensive harassment by the police. During 1991 police arrested the managers of five specialist manga book shops where unpublished or amateur manga was available for sale.

This activity began when six officers broke into Manga no Mori manga book shop in Shinjuku, central Tokyo, and confiscated copies of unpublished manga. Police collected the addresses of 15 amateur manga circles and subsequently took their members into police stations for questioning about the legal status of the printing shops where their manga booklets had been printed. Amateur manga artists were subjected to repeated investigations and harassment throughout the rest of the year. In total police took in 74 young people for questioning over their activities making amateur manga and removed 1880 volumes of manga by 207 authors from Koyama Manga no Mori book shop; and 2160 volumes of manga by 303 different authors from Shinjuku Manga no Mori manga book shop.

This scale of direct police activity represents a significant curtailment of the distribution of unpublished manga. Other than in specialist manga book shops in large cities, amateur manga is rarely on sale and is not usually available outside the social circles of young manga fans and artists. The direct arrestment of amateur manga by local police forces suggests that it was not only the perceived problem of the harmful effects of manga on young minds which concerned the police, but also the independent and unregulated movements of amateur manga artists and amateur manga.

The otaku panic and the reform of the manga medium

The divergence of the publishing industry from what became the contemporary amateur manga movement during the 1980s left the latter disorganised. The central organisation of manga carried out by publishing companies and manga editors disappeared from the amateur medium and no alternative system of valuation, artistic discipline, or quality control, replaced it. Artists who could not get their work published in manga magazines took advantage of this unregulated sphere to produce and distribute their work in amateur form. New genres of manga, driven by the strength of their popular appeal alone, emerged from the amateur manga medium.

The same popular engagement with the manga medium which fuelled the commercial expansion of weekly magazines during the 1960s encouraged the medium to divide into two separate media by the 1980s. The tremendous expansion of the amateur manga medium demonstrates again that the most salient characteristic of manga in postwar society has been its popularity and accessibility, confirmed in the extent of active engagement with the medium by young people.

Moreover it is precisely the widespread access youth have had to the manga medium which has stimulated concern amongst political and educational authorities. Anxieties which were raised about the commercial propagation of manga and gekiga social dramas between 1965 and 1975, resurfaced between 1990 and 1992, and were redirected towards amateur manga - currently the most uncontrolled and free area of the manga medium. Within the escalating debate about manga otaku which spread across society was expressed a sense of insecurity about uncontrolled and unregulated new cultural activities. Thus concluding upon the otaku panic, Yonezawa Yoshihiro remarked that:

The city, the lost zone of Japanese society, exists here at Comic Market. Without any interference or hindrance from outside, this abandoned and forgotten section of society has started to produce its own culture. The sense of being one body, of excitement, of freedom, and of disorder exists inside this single unified space. If anything frightful has come into being it is no doubt the existence of this space itself.

The underlying argument explicit in both the otaku panic, and the 1990 to 1992 anti-manga censorship movement by which it was accompanied, was that manga have a negative influence on Japanese youth, and in particular, their sexuality. While these types of views held by conservative citizens’ organisations and government agencies, involved in attempting to censor published manga magazines, were not interesting, reasonable, or acceptable to a wide section of the contemporary Japanese public, specific criticism of amateur manga subculture and otaku manga genres was more novel and engaging. Young people themselves, were persuaded that amateur manga subculture was a serious social problem, rather than a ‘cool’ youth activity they might like to enter into.

Otaku as a symbol of contemporary Japanese society

The otaku panic also reflects many of the contemporary concerns of social scientists about Japanese society. These are powerful concerns about social fragmentation and the contribution of the mass media and communications infrastructures to this change.

Since the 1970s, intellectuals have linked their concerns about the decay of a close-knit civil society to the growth of individualism amongst younger generations of Japanese. Individualistic youth culture has been accurately associated with either the failure or the stubborn refusal of contemporary Japanese to adequately contribute to society, by carrying out their full obligations and duties to family, company and nation. The absorption of youth in amateur manga subculture in the late 1980s and 1990s was perceived by many intellectuals as a new extreme in the alienation of Japanese youth from the collective goals of society. Otaku became another rejuvanated and modernised version of the aging concept of ‘youth’.
Otaku came to represent a younger generation who were so intensely individualistic they had become dysfunctional. A generation of “isolated people who no longer have any sense of isolation.” The dysfunctionality of otaku proved the unhealthy nature of individualistic lifestyles. Otaku represented new Japanese who lacked any remaining vestiges of social consciousness and were instead entirely preoccupied by their particularistic and specialist personal pastimes. Like generations of youth before them otaku were also diagnosed as suffering from Peter-pan syndrome, or the refusal to grow-up and take on adult social relations. Ueno Chizuko, the leading feminist theorist, pressed this theory that amateur manga genres reflect the infantilism of young people, asking “Do the yaoi girls and Lolicom boys really have a future?” Without social roles, otaku had no fixed identities, no fixed gender roles, and no fixed sexuality. Ultimately, otaku represented a youth who had become so literally anti-social they were unable to communicate or have social relationships with other people at all. The independence of amateur manga subculture from the rest of society, and its growth on the back of new media technologies available to the public, made it an appropriate focus for this sense of chaos and declining control over the organisation and communication of younger generations.

The universalisation of girls’ culture

At the same time, it seems that it was the domination of amateur manga subculture by young women rather than young men which provoked particular unease. In the mid-1970s early girls’ manga was perceived by some leftist critics as a reactionary cultural retreat from politics and social issues to petty personal themes. Girls manga and soft (yasashii) culture were associated with the decline of political and cultural resistance in the early 1970s, sometimes referred to in Japanese as the ‘doldrums’ (shirake). But by the 1990s, individualistic personal themes in girls’ manga were being perceived as stubbornly self-interested, decadent and anti-social.

Over the last two decades, it is women far more than men, which have been involved with making, enjoying and becoming the idols of youth culture in Japan. By virtue of their exclusion from most of the labour market young women have occupied a relatively marginal position in society. Instead of devoting themselves to work most young women have focused on spending their incomes earnt from part-time and temporary employment on culture and leisure.

During the 1980s in particular young women became the main consumers of culture. Ojosamas’ (young madams’) engagement with culture and leisure has been criticised as a form of selfish resistance to society. For many young men, young women have increasingly come to represent an illicit free zone outside of the company, where their individual interests and desires can be pursued. Girls’ manga too carries themes associated with escapism, self- indulgence and willful feminine individualism.

Genres derived from girls’ manga represent, for better or worse, the most dynamic section of the manga medium as a whole in the recent period. However, they have been humiliated by the otaku panic and marginalised by the recent anti-manga censorship movement.
Amateur manga derived genres are excluded from virtually all of the magazines of leading publishers of manga. The snobbery indirectly expressed towards girls’ manga genres is reminiscent of a broader distaste in polite Japanese society for contemporary culture produced for, and sometimes by, young women. As Scov and Moeran have highlighted, there is:

“..an almost apocalyptic anxiety that the supposed ‘pure’ and ‘masculine’ culture of Japan has been vulgarised, feminized, and infanticized to the point where it has become ‘baby talk’ beyond the comprehension of well-educated critics.”

Drawing notice to this vain of critisism which perceives girl’s culture as an unwelcome alien influence within Japan, manga critic, Kure Tomofusa, described how: “When academics looked at girls’ manga they were amazed. They felt like English missionaries discovering that there were different societies in Africa.”

The cross-over of young men into girls’ culture has provoked particularly fierce opposition. The universal popularity of manga genres pioneered by women implies that rather than being a discreet feminine section of manga culture, girls’ manga is in fact central to the contemporary medium, as indeed young women are to contemporary Japanese culture in general. It also implies that the individualistic and self-interested themes of girls’ manga are themes with universal appeal. It is striking that although the majority of amateur manga artists and fans are young women, the media panic about otaku was focused almost entirely on the young men who have adopted young womens’ culture as their own. The anxieties released by the sight of young men flocking to a female-dominated manga movement is reminiscent of the criticism targeted at ‘wiggers’ - or white American boys emulating black ghetto culture or making black music, - in the United States.

Crowds of teenage girls screaming at the sight of their favourite pop-stars taking their shirts off on stage, or spending hours staring morbidly at posters of James Dean, has been humoured, and accommodated in Japan as much as it has in the UK. In Japan, the migration of women into male culture, into bars, trousers, and golf courses, is gradually becoming more acceptable. But, the emergence during the late- 1980s, of hordes of teenage Japanese boys who scream and faint at the sight of their favourite female pop-idols, who adore girls’ manga, or who fetishise images of young girls from afar in their own boys’- girls’ manga, have been reacted to with shock and incomprehension.

Abbreviated Bibliography

Marilyn Ivy, “Formations of Mass Culture,” in Andrew Gordon, ed., Postwar Japan as History, (Oxford: University of California Press, 1993).
See Brian Moeran, “Keywords and the Japanese ’spirit’,” in Brian Moeran, ed., Language and Popular Culture, (Manchester University Press, 1989)
Doi Takeo, Amae no Kozo, (Tokyo: Kobundo, 1971); The Anatomy of Dependence, (London: Kodansha Europe Ltd., 1973).
Peter Dale, “Omnia Vincit Amae,” in The Myth of Japanese Uniqueness, (London: Routledge, 1986).
Okonogi Keigo, “Moratorium Ningen no Jidai,” Chuo Koron (October 1977); Moratorium Ningen no Jidai, (Tokyo: Chuo Koronsha, 1981)
_______________ “The Age of the Moratorium People,” Japan Echo, Vol.5, No.1 (1978).
Tanaka Yasuo, Nan to Naku Crystal, (Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha, 1981).
Wakabayashi Shin, “Understanding the “Crystal” people,” Japan Echo, Vol.8. No.3 (1981).
Alessandro Gomarasca, “Youth, Crisis and Display: The Rhetoric of Shinjinrui in Contemporary Japan”,Versus, Quaderni di Studi Semiotica, Vol.10.(Milan, 1998)
Laurel Anderson & Marsha Wadkins, “The New Breed in Japan: Consumer Culture,” Canadian Journal of Administrative Sciences, Vol.9, No.2 (1992).
Hayashi Chikio, “Atarashii Nihonjin wa donna Ningen?,” Next, (August 1985), p.101.
Nakano Osamu, “A Sociological Analysis of the “New Breed”,” Japan Echo Vol.15 (Special Issue 1988).
Ijiri Kazuo, “The Breakdown of the Japanese Work Ethic,” Japan Echo, Vol.17, No.4 (1990).
Fujioka Wakao, “The Rise of the Micromasses,” Japan Echo, Vol.13, No. 1 (1986).
Kurihara Akira, Yasashisa no Yukue: Gendai Shonen Ron, (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo, 1981)
Rokuro Hidaka, “On Youth,” The Price of Affluence, (New York: Kodansha International, 1984); and Nakano Osamu Narcissus no Genzai, (Tokyo: Jijitsushinsha, 1984).
John Fiske ‘The Cultural Economy of Fandom’, in Lisa Lewis, The Adoring Audience: Fan culture and Popular Media, (London: Routledge, 1992).
“Comic Market 15 Nenshi,” in Comic Box, (November 1989).
Henry Jenkins, Textual Poachers, (London: Routledge, 1992).
“Notes on Camp” [1964] re-published in A Susan Sontag Reader, (London: Penguin Books, 1983).
“Shojo Manga de Katsuyaku no Shakaiin,” in Nihon Keizai Shimbun, regular column “Tokyo wa Shiawase desu ka?,” (13 August 1993).
Anne Allison, Nightwork: Sexuality, Pleasure, and Corporate Masculinity in a Tokyo Hostess Club, (University of Chicago Press, 1994).
Anne Allison, Permitted and Prohibited Desires: Mothers, Comics and Censorship in Japan, (Colorado: Westview Press, 1996).
See Phil Hammond (ed.), Cultural Difference, Media Memories: Anglo- American Images of Japan, (London: Cassell, 1997)
Camille Bacon-Smith, Enterprising Women: Television Fandon and the Creation of Popular Myth, (University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992).
Stanley Cohen, Folk Devils and Moral Panics, (London: Granada, 1972).
K. Tsuzuki, ed., Tokyo Style, (Tokyo: Kyoto Shoin, 1993).
Otsuka Eiji, “M. Kun no naka no Watashi, Watashi no naka no M. Kun,” in Chuo Koron, (October 1989)
John Treat, “Yoshimoto Banana Writes Home: Shojo Culture and the Nostalgic Subject”, in the Journal of Japanese Studies, Vol.XIX. No.2. (1993)
“Comic Market 46 Sanka Moshikomusho Set,” (Tokyo: Comiket Junbikai, December 1993).
Yugai Comic Mondai o Kangaeru, (Tokyo: Tsukuru Shuppan, 1991)
Ueno Chizuko, “Kyuju nendai no Sexual Revolution, ” in Otaku no Hon, (1989).

¿POR QUE EN ESTE JODIDO MEXICALI NO HAY MUJERES COMO ESTAS?

POSTS COMO ESTE APARECERAN HASTA QUE SE ESTABLEZCAN LOS VUELOS DIRECTOS MEXICALI-TOKYO CON DESCUENTO O HASTA QUE ALGUN EJEMPLAR EMO O DARKIE NOS HACKEE ESTE BLOG.

A STAR IS PORN

Furtively rent it from the local video shop or slam it as sleazy and exploitative. The fact remains: you’re living in the porn video capitol of the world.

She was thinking about money. She was thinking, as she emerged into the sunlight at Ikebukuro Station, that there wouldn’t be enough.

She had always been curious about the world. She dreamed of an exciting career abroad after graduation–still two years away.

During summer vacation, she would visit a friend in Europe . . . if she had enough money saved.

To kill time, she strolled toward Mitsukoshi to look at the window displays. On the pavement outside, a man was photographing two women. They were pretty but awkward; they didn’t look like professional models. The photographer noticed her watching and approached. Was she a model? She looked like one. Was she interested in modeling jobs? Was she interested in adult video? There was a lot of money to be made. If, that is, she was interested.

She had watched videos with her boyfriend but hadn’t thought much about them. Now she felt her heart beating. The casually dressed man with the Camera and the easy smile wasn’t her idea of a talent scout. And he didn’t seem dangerous. Why not? she thought, and gave him her telephone number.

When he called three days later, she had already decided. She had turned the idea over and over in her mind. Her father, who worked at a government ministry, would kill her if he found out. But how else could she earn that much money in such a short time? And no one had to know.

She met the photographer again at a Shinjuku coffee shop. He said she looked like the actress Miki Imai, so suggested she call herself Mika Imai. Over the next few days they visited six production companies. A month later, Mika made her naked debut. She was embarrassed in front of so many people and nervously followed the director’s instructions, but didn’t feel any regret. She was paid 250,000 yen.

Not until much later did she discover that the photographer had kept almost a million for himself.

In Tokyo, over 11 AV or “Adult Videos” are made every day, all year round. Over 4,200 videos passed the censor in Ginza last year, most approved on the second try. That’s only the legal part of the business. There is also an unknown number of so-called ura videos which bypass the censor and sell under the counter.

AV is, in short, a significant industry. The market for pornographic videos is worth Y400 billion annually, accounting for around 30 percent of the country’s video rentals. Between 70 and 100 production companies operate in Tokyo (nobody is certain of the exact number), some fly-by-night, others well-established companies with a large staff.

The budget can be as generous as Y20 million, or as meager as 600,000. A typic31 production costs Y5 million and takes ten days to put together, of which two are fir shooting and one for taking still photographs. The stills are vital; the videocassette cover more than anything, except a well-known star, sells the video—and the production company usually has to move at least 1,000 copies to make a profit.

After the recent bankruptcy of AV’s largest production company, Diamond Visual, run by porn innovator Toru Muranishi, some observers believe the industry might be falling victim to its own profligacy. In a swamped market, some videos are selling less than half their break-even mark. The number of video rental shops nationwide has almost halved in recent years, with many surviving outlets shutting their “adult corners” in favor of “family viewing.” And aggressive wholesalers now demand—and usually get—up to 60 percent discount on video prices from producers.

Yet the AV business still churns out the videotape. Industry sources claim around 70 percent of the action is genome—genuine intercourse, genuine ejaculation, genuine grunts and groans. Very little is exported, probably because of the censor’s mosaic blur around the sex organs. Some argue that this censorship gives AV and their stars cult appeal, that it has produced a specific cinematic language that sets Tokyo porn apart.

This gray area between video image and reality has probably also made it easier to recruit attractive, young women. Does intercourse actually take place? The lack of clarity in the finished AV product makes for an easy denial, if such a claim should prove necessary at a later date. Today, those in the industry claim, young women are queuing up to get on screen.

Shoichi Yoshimura glances around the coffee shop at the Washington Hotel in Nishi Shinjuku. Yoshimura, a video producer, claims that the industry has no shortage of female recruits. “How many? What a question:” he says. ‘They’re everywhere. I’d recognize one of them working here, if I looked hard enough.”

The murky world of AV has no shortage of dirty-old-men types, but Yoshimura—not his real name—isn’t one of them. He’s a well-groomed, business-like man of 35 who would fit into any Tokyo office scene. He is also a porn pioneer. an old hand since the days when video drove porn films out of the movie theaters in the mid-eighties. his company, CineMagic, produces six to eight videos a month, specializing in bondage and stylish sadomasochism.

It is among the established names in the business, employing ten lull-time directors, including Ruka Mikami,one of the few women in this guild.

‘In thc beginning, they were mostly girls crossing over from the roman poruno [romance or soft-core porn movies], struggling actresses who couldn’t get work.” he explains. ‘Another group came from the soaplands and other parts of the sex Industry. They came for the money.”

A background in porn videos is not necessarily a skeleton in the cupboard anymore. In some cases, it’s a career move.

But Yoshimura says the scene changed three or four years ago.

Women still join up today for the money, but for extra money—money for shopping and travel and living it up in Tokyo’s expensive night spots. And now the prostitutes and strippers of soap lands have more respectable rivals: housewives, students, OLs at TSE-listed companies—young women whose only previous contact with the sex industry might have been a browse through the shelves of a Top Ten video shop. Sexual inexperience is no disqualification. Young girls can even auction off their innocence in ‘goodbye virgin” videos - another inventive genre in the repertoire.

Television played a decisive role in helping AV cross the invisible borders of probity. As more porn stars have gained celebrity status by appearing in advertisements and on talk shows, AV turned from taboo to fad—and a major source of income for the more successful women.

Kaoru Kuroki, who in her prime was Tokyo’s very own La Cicciolina, did most to change the image of porn. The first high-profile AV actress, she had a solid middle-class background. and was a Yokohama National University student when she started in the business. Kuroki appeared mainly in SM movies, making AV in general and SM in particular a political as well as a feminist issue.

Soon after she shocked the public in 1988 with her unshaven underarms. Kuroki was regaling TV audiences in faultless keigo with her opinions on everything.

But Yoshimura at CineMagic has a simpler reason for AV’s popularity as Even a short-term career: he believes today’s youth have no morals. The desk in his Shinjuku office is thick with applications, each with a photo attached. Many of the women are remarkably beautiful. A few show their breasts or pose in underwear. ‘These are from only the past few months,” Yoshimura says. He holds up one of the applications. “This one is from a housewife with two children.”

As AV slipped into the entertainment industry’s mainstream, young women have become less afraid of the consec1uences of being discovered by parents and colleagues. Others plan on a short, six-month career and gamble on their chances of not being recognized in the overwhelming supply available.

In other words, a background in porn is not necessarily a skeleton in the cupboard anymore. In some cases, it’s a career move.

Most careers start on the streets. Shibuya, Shinjuku and Roppongi are the hunting grounds where talent scouts prowl for young, single women, preferably those who look like new arrivals. The ruses are legion. Some scouts flatter and lie, or tempt with glittering TV and modeling jobs. Others lire more straightforward.

Usually the scout receives ¥100,000 for introducing women to managers, the personal agents in the AV world. Some do apply directly to a production company, but it will usually refer the woman to an agent.

Companies like to distance themselves from potential problems.

That’s left to the managers, who take on considerable responsibility for young country girls in the big city, fending off legal action and enraged parents and other occupational hazards. Or, depending on your point of view, they exploit women unscrupulously. Since this type of employment brokerage is illegal, agents lead a nomadic life, changing addresses on a regular basis.

But agents are well-paid for their services. The exploitative ones pay their girls a ¥200,000 monthly salary and pocket the remainder of the ¥1.5 million plus fee which the agency in turn charges the production company. But even serious agencies cream off at least 50 percent, leaving the woman with an average of 600,000 yen per video—there are many open palms on the road from the girl’s first, hesitant yes” to the first day of shooting.

An attractive leading actress can cost between 1.5 and 2 million yen. (Rui Sakuragi, the biggest star at present, makes V3 million a project.) But with extra income from interviews, promotions and magazine modeling, even a frugal young unknown should have over Y3 million in the bank after a year.

Yusei Maeda, a well-established manager, has about 20 girls in his stable. Two retire and two join during an average month. Maeda, who runs his business with three colleagues from a Sendagaya office, also owns a Roppongi bar called Pushikaru, where guests chat with AV girls past and present, including the legendary Toyomaru, an industry innovator. (AV historians will record Toyomaru as the first Western-style Japanese porn star. The lurid copywriter might describe her as insatiable and untiring, a woman who always grabs what she wants.”)

“Everything is so much easier today,” Maeda says during a still shooting session in a Roppongi studio with one of his stars, the bespectacled Natsumi Nosaka. “Attitudes have changed. Girls see it more and more as a career, and some can actually go on to other work.”

The first thing Maeda discusses with a new actress is a career plan.

There are some tough questions to address: is the woman only interested in a quick kill? Or is she considering breaking into showbiz? The latter route leads to media exposure and, sooner or later, a crack in the anonymity. If she’s only out for money, she will studiously avoid publicity and quit inside a year—the average life-span of an AV girl—with five or ten videos to her credit and an unknowing family bosom to return to.

Maeda gives his actresses stage names and fictional ages (18, 19 or 20—21 is already too old). Each girl has a personal profile which details her interests, background and sexual experience. It also includes what she will and will not do— whether she is prepared to engage in real intercourse, what kind of sex she refuses to perform, and so on. Of central importance is whether she will allow the male actor to ejaculate in her face. Only half the actresses give it the OK.

There are, however, ways around this stumbling block.

The first appearance for an AV girl is as a so-called new face.” At this stage, says Maeda, inexperience and innocence are her most important attributes. Viewers are invited to follow, from appearance to appearance, her sexual initiation, dawning self-awareness and gradual acceptance of her inner, dark depths. By the end of this pornographic rite of passage, her credibility as a new face is spent and she takes the role of a mature, voracious star.

After five or more movies, she specializes: SM, lesbianism, advanced group sex—in videos such as those in the Jesus Clitoris Superstar series (from V&R Planning, a company specializing in diverse perversions), in which the girl deals with nine male partners.
Outré fields such as SM are for actresses on the home stretch of their careers, or stars who are not attractive enough. The money is the same; it is not the role but the appearance and the name that determines the fee. After making such videos, a woman usually cannot return to cute roles again, yet it is not uncommon for an old hand to re-emerge as a “new face” under a different stage name.

The career of an AV girl begins in the stack of applications on desks like Shoichi Yoshimura’s. From these, Yoshimura chooses 20 each month who he believes will sell videos. Then he arranges interviews with the woman, insisting first that he be told her real name and age—using under-18s, intentionally or not, can have serious legal consequences. Maeda, who has known Yoshimura for many years, always accompanies them to these events.

If the interview goes well, it’s time to meet the director.
Call me orthodox, if you like,” says Akira Ishigaki. “I make neither SM nor rorikon [Lolita complex] videos.” Pictures from his exhibition in New York in the mid-eighties hang in his Nakano studio. Ishigaki began as a stills photographer, but now concentrates on directing videos. In the last few years, he has made over 200.

Ishigaki is known for his aggressive documentary style and for an irresistible sort of shameless charm. He is also known for harassing and provoking actresses during shooting and sometimes getting into the action himself.

Ishigaki’s brand of video-making is part of the AV cult of amateurism. Most story-lines are as flimsy as the leading man’s G-string, but any plot is shattered when a member of the team suddenly passes in front of the camera, or when the director yells at the actress during shooting for faking an orgasm. Often the viewer witnesses the whole creative process, right up to when the makeup woman cleans up the exhausted actress and she walks into her dressing room for a shower. In other words, the documentary illusion is the story. The message is that just about anybody—the girl next to you in the subway, the OL in your office, even your girlfriend—is AV material.

“I try to create the impression that they have a background.’ Ishigaki says, “that they are going through an actual struggle in front of the camera. It won’t be a good video if there isn’t a little resistance. It isn’t good if the audience sees that the women are doing it just for money; it destroys their dream.”

On the wall next to his cluttered desk, Ishigaki has pinned the profile of the woman who will star in his next video. She is young and uncommonly beautiful. She has long, straight hair and gazes from the photo with big doe eyes. It will be her first time. Beside almost every question about sex on her application, she has plainly written “n.g.” (”no good”), including the question about real intercourse-—although she has added a coy condition in parenthesis, “it depends on the actor.” Only Ishigaki really knows what will happen to the girl with the doe eyes.

‘My job is to get them horny and ready for the inevitable,” he says. “It usually isn’t that difficult. They’re prepared for sex, but they hesitate. I demand more and more feeling. and they finally get drunk on the atmosphere. Sometimes they cry afterwards. and then I comfort them.”

Although it is often the woman’s manager who deals with a reluctant actress. Ishigaki is proud of his not-so-gentle arts of persuasion. He does, however, avoid one taboo subject: “Never let the conversation get on to their parents.”

Hayami:”You meet the girl in the morning, say hello, work, then say goodbye. They pass by like dolls. I’ve become a kind of Pavlovian dog.”

One man who needs no persuad ing is Kenji Hayami. He left his Kyoto high school to try his luck as an actor in Tokyo and somehow ended up in roman poruno. Now, 11 years later. he has starred in 1,200 videos.

“It was different when I started,” Hayami recalls. “Then it was never for real. There were long sections of dialogue between sex scenes, and something always hid what was happening from the camera.”

Whipping Boy: The indefatigable Hayumi,
star of 1200 porn videos

Then Toru Muranishi arrived on the scene. Muranishi is the dirtiest of the industry’s dirty old men, the owner of the recently bankrupted Diamond Visual, a video giant which took porn to new limits and often beyond them. Muranishi launched Kaoru Kuroki’s career and has been convicted of using minors. Kenji Hayami believes Muranishi and other big video companies changed the industry for good. “Suddenly, you had to do everything,” he says. ‘At first, I didn’t want to. And I thought I couldn’t.”

Hayami’s early attempts did not go well. He was nervous and couldn’t perform. The turning point came in the mid-eighties during a now legendary session in Hawaii where Muranishi filmed 30 videos in as many days. At that time, Narita customs did not check video tapes being brought into the country (sex scenes are no longer shot overseas). Hayami and a fellow actor were on location for a month, while 15 or so women were flown out from Tokyo in turn.
Since then, Hayami had few problems with his performance. ‘In the beginning,” he says. ‘I was very careful about what I ate: rare steaks and garlic. But the girls didn’t like the garlic, and I got nervous. I was thinking too much. The best thing to do is just live as naturally as possible.”

Nobody in the industry says it’s easy to be an actor Hayami makes about ten videos a month. Men have no managers and earn a modest amount compared to women: 20,000 to 750,000 yen per day of shooting. As one of a relatively small group of well-established, professionally trained actors, Hayami usually gets roles that require a certain amount of dialogue and acting (by AV standards). Many men who appear in videos are enthusiastic amateurs with an honest interest in pornography; some of them. it is said, are salaryrnen from distinguished companies who doorstep production companies looking for work.

Hayami has rarely fallen in love with his female co-star. ‘You meet each other in the morning, say hello, work, then say goodbye. They pass by like dolls. Maybe it isn’t polite to say so, but otherwise it wouldn’t work. I’ve become a kind of Pavlovian dog: I know when it’s time. bit otherwise I don’t think about it. To be honest, I’m not attracted to women that do it for real—and most really do it these days.”

Hayami is married with a son. His wife hrs always known about the source of family income, but didn’t think her husband actually had sex with his partners— until she read about it one day in Focus magazine. Hayami does not go into details of how this marital crisis was solved. But, he admits, his wife might still be jealous deep down.

Mika Fujioka waits with her manager, one of Maeda’s colleagues, on the corner in front of the Subaru Building in Nishi Shinjuku, the classic meeting place for AV teams. Mika, a tall, slim 20-year-old, begins shooting her seventh movie today with Kenji Hayami as her co-star and Shoichi Yoshimura the director.

Mika’s entry into the world of porn last August was anything but glamorous. She started working in Kabukicho at the age of 17 and, she says, “did everything but soap and SM.” Her boyfriend forced her to quit working in bars last summer, so she launched into AV instead. He beat her when he found out in November, but she soon went back to work.

The adult video world was better than Mika had expected. ‘The women in Kabukicho say that AV is a dirty business,” she says. “AV girls say the same thing about Kabukicho. I have experience in both.

“AV is better. It’s cleaner. The money’s about the same.”

The CineMagic team arrives with the camera equipment in a truck, Hayami, meanwhile, drives his own car out to the studio, a large house next to a tennis club in a Saitama industrial zone. Each room has a bed but otherwise the place is sparsely furnished. A worn paperback copy of The Story of 0 lies open on a table, the only evidence of the previous team.

One man is already there, waiting in front of a bag of ropes. This is Iida sensei, the country’s leading rope-up artist who ties the knots in SM films. “But only rope,” he says primly. “Anybody can do leather.” There are many things to take into consideration: the woman’s height and strength, how she moves and how she is built.

But untying is a job for the assistant. “My fingers are insured,” Iida laughs, though he might not be joking. Iida is also an authority on suragodoi, an Edo era torture technique.

The story they will shoot today is a “classic.” A poker-player (Kenji Hayami) wins his opponent’s wife (Mika Fujioka), then ties her up, whips her and rapes her until, of course, she finally realizes this is what she wanted all along. Her humiliated husband, meanwhile, peeps through a keyhole and masturbates.

In a room on the ground floor, CineMagic’s assistants have brought in piles of props: leather, lights, whips and boxes full of dildoes. In the kitchen, another CineMagic employee is tilling small plastic tubes with a mixture of egg whites and condensed milk: stage semen. (”A little sweet,” Mika says. “It doesn’t taste bad.”)
Hayami gives a short pre-shoot lecture. “Gargle. wear cologne and keep your’ fingernails clipped,” he advises. “A shower before intercourse is a must, as is brushing your teeth before fellatio.” One unmentionable in good shooting etiquette is AIDS; few in the AV business are willing to say much on the subject. There are rumors that some male actors are blacklisted by companies but it is unclear why. The common attitude is that the industry, like Japan itself, has not been penetrated by the virus.

The makeup artist is a personable young woman called Harue Kubota. Harue says she didn’t want to get involved in AV at first, but now she does it several times a year. “It’s not as dirty as I thought,” she says. “They’re fun people to work with and good for making contacts. A lot work in other businesses, too, like advertising and fashion.”

Mika: “The women in Kabukicho say that AV is dirty. AV girls say the same thing about Kabukicho. I’ve experienced both. AV is cleaner. The money’s the same.”

There are about ten people in the room during shooting. Most of the time the lighting director scribble in his notebook while lida sleeps. There is no script. Yoshimura improvises from scene to scene, room to room. time after time, sensei is called in to tie his ropes. While the camera zooms in on the tortured expressions on Hayami and Mika’s faces, one of CineMagic’s young assistants has to offer his bare back to add the sound effects of the cracking whip.

The make-up artist stands by with a large beach towel to cover Mika’s naked body between takes. She fixes any stray strands of Mika’s hair and watches for pimples or her buttocks. Hayami “comes” twice during the evening. The first time it is fake—egg white and milk—but a few hours later, it is genuine.

Between takes, it is difficult to see the easy-go-lucky Hayami as the perverted abuser of women he plays. He practices his golf swing with a whip and horses around on the set. Every now and then he massages Mika’s sore wrists and ankles. Mika sits up after a violent orgasm and yawns. There are bright rope weals on her thighs and wrists, but they don’t seem to hurt her. It’s only her seventh movie but already she’s seen everything; her second video, she says, felt like her tenth.

At last the lights go off. Hayami sits on the bed and smokes, while Mika wipes her face with a Kleenex. It’s midnight. The staff are chasing each other around the room with whips.

“Just another day at the office,” Hayami sighs.

And what about Mika Imai? She made it to Europe for the summer.

She broke up with her boyfriend and continues to appear in videos.

She soon realized that her freelance manager was cheating her. By then she had met Yoshimura. and he introduced her to Maeda.

She still looks like a student, dressed in jeans and sweater, with a straight, black leather jacket and hair in a neat ponytail. She uses a little too much makeup. She still lives at home. Her parents haven’t discovered her secret career but Mika thinks that some male classmates may be onto her secret. Her first money was spent on clothes and entertainment, but then she began to save.

“It wasn’t just the money,” she now says. “Everything was so boring. School was boring. Home was boring. I wanted something to happen. I was curious about the people in this business, what they did, how it all worked, After the second video, I was even more curious.

“It’s not a job I’m proud of, but I like the people. They are more fun and free than other people I know. I’ve changed, I think. Before I was anxious about everything; now I’m more relaxed, more myself.”

After ten videos, 23-year-old Mika Imai is thinking of ending her video career, perhaps with an SM video for CineMagic. “It’s uncomfortable and you always have to be thinking about where the camera is. I’ve never had an orgasm on camera. People think that AV girls are having sex, but for us it’s just video. But then an OL will watch it with her boyfriend and do the same thing. Then it’s real.”

¿POR QUE EN ESTE JODIDO MEXICALI NO HAY MUJERES COMO ESTAS?

POSTS COMO ESTE APARECERAN HASTA QUE SE ESTABLEZCAN LOS VUELOS DIRECTOS MEXICALI-TOKYO CON DESCUENTO O HASTA QUE ALGUN EJEMPLAR EMO O DARKIE NOS HACKEE ESTE BLOG.