Calix Franklin
When I think about power, what comes to mind immediately is a depiction of someone omnipotent; someone who is a jack of all trades if you will. They may not fall into the traditional “powerhouse, broad shoulders, and bulging muscles” stereotype, but they are someone who would still be able to hold power over such an individual. It may take a bit of a vicious dance, but I believe in the end the person who possesses not physical strength, but the strength of the mind and its flexibility that will ultimately prevail. This brings me to the pieces I will be meditating on, Pluto vol. 1 & 2, as they perfectly reflect this dance between social power and adaptability versus the fear of losing physical control and facing the consequences of your own actions.
To get into the basics of it, I need to first touch on how power is depicted within Pluto. I would say Pluto depicts power mostly through its narrative rather than its visuals, as most of the action that would impose the idea of physical power is excluded from the art in favor of one or a few more emotionally significant panels. Such as when North #2 was about to meet his end the action of the battle before him was not shown, but instead his newly-obtained master longingly asking for him to return in order to finish his (North’s) piano lessons. Urasawa is a master in bringing forth the power of emotions through narrative alone, which I believe sets up the subject of power and what kinds are represented as a whole throughout the series.
His narrative of power boils down to physical versus social, in which the social power lies with the humans, while the physical power resides with the robots. Humans are the ones who created the robots to be more powerful than they ever could be on their own, all the while wanting to maintain power over them. This being the case, they’ve used their social power to inhibit the free will of the robots, specifically by setting actual laws in place as well as social stigmas of being “killing machines, disposable, imitations of the ‘real thing’(humans), etc.” The imbalance of power is staggering when you get down to it. While humans maintain a strict social power over robots, the robots are left to conform to human standards and habits; they are almost required to try and blend in with society as if they were never robots at all. Despite all of this, these robots have extremely advanced AI that would absolutely allow them to break free of their original programming, thus allowing them to use the weapons within their systems to overtake those who have been oppressing them this entire time...yet they don’t; they give in to the overwhelming social power that their human counterparts hold over them. In a way, it almost feels like a commentary on the oppression of minorities that we deal with as a society today.
As I sit here writing about the social injustice set upon robots in a fictional world, I can’t help but compare it to the absolute hellscape of a society that I and other people of minorities live through. In truth, we mirror Urasawa’s narrative exactly. Those who are of the cisgender, straight, Christian/Catholic, and white majorities hold a massive amount of social power over people who are of color, queer, transgender, or of a religion outside of the Christian sphere of influence. They expect us to abandon who we are as people in favor of making them comfortable; they expect generations upon generations of traumatization (and the continued traumatization, at that) to be ignored and set aside so that they do not have to face the consequences of their own actions. Frankly, it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. It is just as the humans are towards the robots in Pluto; they do not wish to face the consequences of creating beings and life more intelligent and powerful than they ever could be, and in that fear of potentially facing such a thing they default to the abuse of social power. This avoidance of responsibility rings loud and clear through the fictional world of Pluto and into the ears of people like me who are the constant receiver of such abuse. Be it from the government above us denying the right to marry for centuries, friends of years passed threatening religious conversion to “fix” what’s “wrong” with me, or my own mother proclaiming that she’s lost her eldest child, the power imbalance here is felt with great strength. Minorities in our world want to desperately break free from the toxic “programming” that’s been done by our oppressors under the guise of love or “just making things easier for everyone,” and robots from Pluto wish to be free of not only their originally violent intended purposes but also the constant threat to their very existences that is the humans’ fear of losing control.
I would argue that Urasawa did this on purpose, especially looking at the time period in which this was written. The 2000s was a time of great technological change, and with the rise of social media and the internet as a whole came the rise of the power of minority voices.
For the first time, it would be easier for those who are oppressed to coordinate with each other and attempt to break free of said oppression once and for all. This is, as I’ve previously stated, mirrored by the way Urasawa has written the relationship between humans and robots in Pluto. While creating this series he would have been exposed to such a rise in minority voices, and I’m certain he was aware of how quickly this kind of “uprising” made those who wish to preserve the fragile bubble they once knew turn relentlessly violent against them. My thoughts are that he wanted to create a manga centered around The Greatest Robot on Earth’s Pluto first and foremost, but that it was only natural to slide in a subtle commentary on the mistreatment of minorities in the ever-evolving social world he was living in at the time. In a traditionally conservative country like Japan where the population is 98% native-born Japanese, and most people have never even seen a black person in person, let alone even began to accept the notion of the LGBTQ community, it would be difficult to make a bold commentary on such a topic. That being the case, it would be much easier (and much more well-received) to write something
that directly relates to a previously-existing, widely-accepted/loved series with a light (though painfully obvious with just a smidge of a closer look) sprinkling of relevant commentary on societal power added onto it. It’s a very clever way of doing so, and I think he made it perfectly palatable to those who may need to be on the receiving end of the memo stating “the more you suppress a particular group, the harder they’ll work to break free.” It is a series that can be enjoyable by those who both do and do not wish to read further into the social meaning of it, and I think that was exactly Urasawa’s goal in the end. He made a piece that is not only entertaining to those seeking entertainment, but is also a fantastic piece to use on the commentary of power imbalance in the world we live in even today, twelve years after the final volume was released.
Pluto is truly a stroke of brilliance in my eyes. Not only do I believe that it perfectly encapsulates the neverending battle of facing the consequences of your own actions, but it also lays out a sound foundation for a conversation about power imbalance within society as a whole. Through the use of a beloved series, Urasawa has managed to create an enjoyable manga that doubles as an “in” to the conversation about the social power of the oppressive majority over the physical strength of the oppressed minority. Going even further on that same note, he managed to slide it right under the noses of a heavily conservative country’s publishing. It’s genius in every form of the word, and honestly should be treated as such. It further pushes the envelope of the conversation surrounding human rights by being an exact mirror of the power imbalance we see in the world today. This is why I believe it was a purposeful commentary. With such an accurate depiction of worldly power corruption, I will continue to use Pluto as a primary
example of what fear over losing control and the abuse of social power looks like for those who truly need to partake in such a treacherous dance lesson.
To get into the basics of it, I need to first touch on how power is depicted within Pluto. I would say Pluto depicts power mostly through its narrative rather than its visuals, as most of the action that would impose the idea of physical power is excluded from the art in favor of one or a few more emotionally significant panels. Such as when North #2 was about to meet his end the action of the battle before him was not shown, but instead his newly-obtained master longingly asking for him to return in order to finish his (North’s) piano lessons. Urasawa is a master in bringing forth the power of emotions through narrative alone, which I believe sets up the subject of power and what kinds are represented as a whole throughout the series.
His narrative of power boils down to physical versus social, in which the social power lies with the humans, while the physical power resides with the robots. Humans are the ones who created the robots to be more powerful than they ever could be on their own, all the while wanting to maintain power over them. This being the case, they’ve used their social power to inhibit the free will of the robots, specifically by setting actual laws in place as well as social stigmas of being “killing machines, disposable, imitations of the ‘real thing’(humans), etc.” The imbalance of power is staggering when you get down to it. While humans maintain a strict social power over robots, the robots are left to conform to human standards and habits; they are almost required to try and blend in with society as if they were never robots at all. Despite all of this, these robots have extremely advanced AI that would absolutely allow them to break free of their original programming, thus allowing them to use the weapons within their systems to overtake those who have been oppressing them this entire time...yet they don’t; they give in to the overwhelming social power that their human counterparts hold over them. In a way, it almost feels like a commentary on the oppression of minorities that we deal with as a society today.
As I sit here writing about the social injustice set upon robots in a fictional world, I can’t help but compare it to the absolute hellscape of a society that I and other people of minorities live through. In truth, we mirror Urasawa’s narrative exactly. Those who are of the cisgender, straight, Christian/Catholic, and white majorities hold a massive amount of social power over people who are of color, queer, transgender, or of a religion outside of the Christian sphere of influence. They expect us to abandon who we are as people in favor of making them comfortable; they expect generations upon generations of traumatization (and the continued traumatization, at that) to be ignored and set aside so that they do not have to face the consequences of their own actions. Frankly, it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. It is just as the humans are towards the robots in Pluto; they do not wish to face the consequences of creating beings and life more intelligent and powerful than they ever could be, and in that fear of potentially facing such a thing they default to the abuse of social power. This avoidance of responsibility rings loud and clear through the fictional world of Pluto and into the ears of people like me who are the constant receiver of such abuse. Be it from the government above us denying the right to marry for centuries, friends of years passed threatening religious conversion to “fix” what’s “wrong” with me, or my own mother proclaiming that she’s lost her eldest child, the power imbalance here is felt with great strength. Minorities in our world want to desperately break free from the toxic “programming” that’s been done by our oppressors under the guise of love or “just making things easier for everyone,” and robots from Pluto wish to be free of not only their originally violent intended purposes but also the constant threat to their very existences that is the humans’ fear of losing control.
I would argue that Urasawa did this on purpose, especially looking at the time period in which this was written. The 2000s was a time of great technological change, and with the rise of social media and the internet as a whole came the rise of the power of minority voices.
For the first time, it would be easier for those who are oppressed to coordinate with each other and attempt to break free of said oppression once and for all. This is, as I’ve previously stated, mirrored by the way Urasawa has written the relationship between humans and robots in Pluto. While creating this series he would have been exposed to such a rise in minority voices, and I’m certain he was aware of how quickly this kind of “uprising” made those who wish to preserve the fragile bubble they once knew turn relentlessly violent against them. My thoughts are that he wanted to create a manga centered around The Greatest Robot on Earth’s Pluto first and foremost, but that it was only natural to slide in a subtle commentary on the mistreatment of minorities in the ever-evolving social world he was living in at the time. In a traditionally conservative country like Japan where the population is 98% native-born Japanese, and most people have never even seen a black person in person, let alone even began to accept the notion of the LGBTQ community, it would be difficult to make a bold commentary on such a topic. That being the case, it would be much easier (and much more well-received) to write something
that directly relates to a previously-existing, widely-accepted/loved series with a light (though painfully obvious with just a smidge of a closer look) sprinkling of relevant commentary on societal power added onto it. It’s a very clever way of doing so, and I think he made it perfectly palatable to those who may need to be on the receiving end of the memo stating “the more you suppress a particular group, the harder they’ll work to break free.” It is a series that can be enjoyable by those who both do and do not wish to read further into the social meaning of it, and I think that was exactly Urasawa’s goal in the end. He made a piece that is not only entertaining to those seeking entertainment, but is also a fantastic piece to use on the commentary of power imbalance in the world we live in even today, twelve years after the final volume was released.
Pluto is truly a stroke of brilliance in my eyes. Not only do I believe that it perfectly encapsulates the neverending battle of facing the consequences of your own actions, but it also lays out a sound foundation for a conversation about power imbalance within society as a whole. Through the use of a beloved series, Urasawa has managed to create an enjoyable manga that doubles as an “in” to the conversation about the social power of the oppressive majority over the physical strength of the oppressed minority. Going even further on that same note, he managed to slide it right under the noses of a heavily conservative country’s publishing. It’s genius in every form of the word, and honestly should be treated as such. It further pushes the envelope of the conversation surrounding human rights by being an exact mirror of the power imbalance we see in the world today. This is why I believe it was a purposeful commentary. With such an accurate depiction of worldly power corruption, I will continue to use Pluto as a primary
example of what fear over losing control and the abuse of social power looks like for those who truly need to partake in such a treacherous dance lesson.