Kamishibai: A Secret Weapon for Wartime Propaganda

When most people from Western nations think of Japan, their first thoughts are likely of anime and manga. This is an art and animation style that is so unique to Japan, it has become a driving force for their economy. But surely this defining medium grew from something else. Sumi-e paintings and similar mediums can easily be attributed to the overall style that developed, but paneling and animation, too, have their own origin story in Japan. So, what sort of early contributor could possibly be credited with the massive anime and manga industry that garnered the country so much attention?

The answer lies in 19th century Japan, the fifteen year war, and old-fashioned propaganda.

Kamishibai is an art form that was particularly popular from the 1920s-1960s in Japan. It’s a very specific method of storytelling, often translated as “paper drama”, which involves often self-illustrated story cards which are placed in a portable stage. In this medium, the storyteller is as important as the story: their role is to engage the audience and build excitement with the crowd.

The kamishibai man, as the storyteller was called, traveled by bike and used these stories to gather customers who would in turn purchase candy from him. Though his primary profession was selling candy, he was better known by the tales he told. The stories began with once upon a time and ended in the heat of action, leaving customers wanting more.

Kamishibai was more than entertainment for the masses, it was a way to entertain those who struggled during the Japanese depression, and it provided jobs for the unemployed. The pay was meager, but it was enough to live off of. In this way, paper theatre played an important role in the economy during a time of war and depression. More so, Kamishibai grew to be a learning tool, teaching children valuable lessons through stories.

Paper theatre may be a medium particular to Japan, but its influences are international. Even when Japan went through it’s isolation period, modern technology from Europe still made its way to the islands. One specific influence is early Dutch projection technology, but Japanese influences date as far back as the 10^th century, when Buddhist picture scrolls were common.

But why are stories told by a candy salesman so important when we look back at the fifteen years war?

In the 1930s, tensions were rising between japan and China, and while war hadn’t officially broken out between the two countries, preparation was vital. So began the draft. Some performers were drafted, but the best service the government could think of for these storytellers was to change their narrative.

Rather than the educational narratives meant to drive children to learn valuable lessons for the future, Kamishibai men were threatened into drafting pro-war imperialist propaganda pieces. The medium was perfect for wartime encouragement: It offered an easily digestible narrative, an eager audience searching for entertainment, and a reputation of being wholesome and educational. 

Aside from a change in message, propaganda use for kamishibai changed the way the shows were performed. Scripts would be printed on the back of the cards for easy reference, and performers were carefully monitored. Gone were the days of spontaneous, unpredictable changes. Creativity was limited for the sake of the message. As were serialized stories that ended on cliffhangers. Instead, each narrative was its own, complete story.

The draft also hurt the selection of professional storytellers, leaving alternative professionals and women in town to take the role of kamishibai man.

There are many ways of categorizing the types of propaganda performances. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll break these down into three categories that are commonly attributed to these tales.

The first is informative, in which the narrative focuses on actual events or gives instructions on practical wartime activities like building a bomb shelter. The second is exhortation, wherein the goal is to encourage a certain activity from the audience, like purchasing war bonds. The final type, Emulation plays, were meant to encourage certain heroic behaviors the characters within the story exhibit.

Despite the glorification of wartime activities, these stories spared no expense at portraying realistic scenarios. The horrors of war were evident in the narratives, partially for believability’s but also due to Japan’s close ties with death. Even as far back as the Tale of Genji, one of the earliest and most famous recorded tales in Japan, suicide and death were common themes.  Furthermore, bushido code states that death in combat is the most honorable way to die, making self-sacrifice a worthwhile endeavor.

The government saw kamishibai as a vital method for spreading a positive message about the war, but ultimately the art form was much more than an outlet for wartime propaganda. Before the war, it was an important teaching tool for kids, and the modern era is seeing a return of kamishibai to its roots. And while the stories originated in Japan, they are currently being adapted to Western classrooms, used by teachers to help students tell their own stories.

Sources

Orbaugh, Sharalyn, “’Kamishibai’ and the Art of the Interval.” Mechademia, vol. 7, 2012, pp.78-100.

Horner, Emily, “’Kamishibai’ in Wartime Japan.” Storytelling, Self, Society, vol. 2, no. 1, 2005, pp. 21-31. 

McGowan, Tara, performing Kamishibai: An Emerging New Literacy for a global Audience. Routledge, 2015. 

Daily Fig Staff, “Rediscovering Japan’s Forgotten Storytellers in Kamisibai Man.” Daily Fig, unknown date.
McGowan, Tara M., “The Many Faces of Kamishibai (Japanese Paper Theater): Past, Present, and Future.” About Japan, 2018.

Ho, Oliver, “Manga Kamishibai: The Art of Japanese paper Theater by Eric P. Nash.” Pop Matters, 2009.

De Las Casas, Dianne, Kamishibai Story Theater: The Art of Picture Telling. Libraries Unlimited, 2006. 

Yogen: Haunted by the Future

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

I’ve always loved Japanese horror: These movies tend to rely more on emotional trauma and psychological torment than the jump-scare-filled, shock factor films that invade Western cinema. Don’t get me wrong, I love movies like House of 1000 Corpses, but there is just something special about having your emotions toyed with during a horror movie that makes them stick.

I watched Yogen (Premonition, Newspaper of Terror) back in 2007 and while I couldn’t remember many of the details of this movie, I remember the feeling of dread it inspired with its repetitive imagery and psychological torture methods. If you are looking for the thrills that come from movies that go bump in the night, Yogen isn’t the film for you. Like so many of my favorite Japanese horror films, Yogen isn’t so much horror as it is a supernatural psychological thriller that relies on emotional responses to drive their point home. Naturally, I had to re-watch this film.

Yogen, much like its predecessor in the “J-Horror Theater” collection (Infection, or Kansen), can have moments of seemingly campy terrors. The newspaper moves, with haunting music playing behind as it does so. It’s almost humorous in its absurdity, as papers stalk and torment our protagonist throughout the film. However, the bizarre scares do not separate the audience from the films true intentions.

There are several ways you could determine the meaning of this film: our father, Hideki, is first introduced working hard in the car on the family’s way home from grandma’s house. It is his need to work that forced the family to pull over on the side of the road, where his daughter was killed in an accident. I would argue that one of the first points the film makes is to never take family for granted. His obsession with this strange phenomenon drove Hideki and his wife, Ayaka, apart.

Beyond that, the film puts some intense emphasis on the fact that the past can’t be changed. When he attempts to save his student, she is still killed despite his efforts, giving the clear message that he shouldn’t interfere. But when he attempts to save his wife, the film take a turn and Hideki is forced to relive his worst nightmare.

In many ways, the film is about fate, and what happens when fate is tempted. Hideki attempts to defy fate, and he suffers deeply for it. But beyond that, the film shows a man slowly driven mad by the knowledge he is given. To know a tragedy will happen, and to be powerless to stop it, would drive anyone mad. But to know and fail over and over again, tormented by this knowledge every day, fearing the mostly mundane of all household items, it’s difficult to fathom the effect that might have on one’s mental health.

Yogen is a film that bends time and space, reality and fiction, fate and destiny. Despite it’s often silly portrayal of its villainous newspaper, the film delivers the emotional strain that is expected of a solid Japanese horror film. After giving this film a second watch, I would continue to recommend it, along with the other two films in the “J-Horror Theater” collection I have seen this far, Kansen and Rinne (Reincarnation). All three films give strong messages and twist the world around us, causing viewers to question reality. 

A brief History on Japan's Body Art Culture

Japanese style tattoos have a distinct style that is reminiscent of the cultures artistic history. So why, when tattoos are becoming more acceptable in the West, does Japan continue to urge tattooed patrons to cover up their artwork?

The earliest record of Japanese tattooing is from the Jomon Period (1000-300 B.C.) Here, the pottery was found with paintings of figures who appeared to have body markings¹. The first written record came in 297 AD, in a compilation of Chinese history. In China at the time, tattoos were seen as barbaric and often written about in a negative context. This view was in fact adopted by the Japanese in the 7^th century and by 720 tattoos were being used as a form of punishment².

The Ainu, a tribal populous from Hokkaido and Northern Japan, had a different view on tattoos. For them, tattoos were both cosmetic and culturally significant. Girls were tattooed as young as 5 or 6—usually between 10 and 13—and would have their artwork completed once they reached sexual maturity and marriageable age. Their tattoos represented purity and virtue, and were used to protect them against other tribes³. There was an attempt to ban these Ainu tattoos, but given their significance and the noncompliance of the Ainu people, it was eventually overturned⁴.

Okinawa was also known for female tattoos, but theirs remained on their hands. Female Shamans bore the tattoos as talismans on their hands⁵. Tattoos in this region were also used to prevent kidnappings from Japanese brothels, as Japanese men did not like women who were tattooed⁶.

In the Edo era, tattooing was seen as a punishment because of their permanence and painful application. This supposedly began in the 17^th century, and exempt the samurai class⁷. This punishment was used for minor crimes, where as robbery and murder warranted a death sentence. People who were seen as outcasts of society also bore tattoos. Outcasts would have tattoos on their arms, but criminals could be tattooed on their face or any other part of their body. Tattoos symbolized more than a painful punishment though; families and the community shunned those with tattoos. This marks the beginning of the tattoo’s affiliation with organized crime⁸.

It was the 18^th century that saw a rise in decorative tattooing. This was, however, still primarily restricted to firemen, outlaws, laborers, and most notably the Yakuza. For the Yakuza, Tattoos were a symbol of loyalty due to their permanence, and courage due to the painful procedure of hand-poked tattoos (Irezumi). Tattooing was also banned during this time, so their artwork signified defiance⁹. However, for the Yakuza, tattoos also symbolized success, as a full body suit could be quite costly and to have one proved their success¹⁰.

The art seen during the Edo period developed to mimic wood print artwork that had become popular. For the Yakuza, their large tattoos often featured mythological scenes or historic moments¹¹. Although tattoos were outlawed, tattoo artists could still practice their craft on foreigners, thus the spread of Japanese art began with sailors who visited the “Land of the Rising Sun”¹².  

Tattoo bans furthered during the Meiji Era, as the Japanese didn’t want to appear barbaric to Westerners. These bans particularly affected areas like Hokkaido and Okinawa, where the indigenous people continued to practice their tattooing as a part of their heritage¹³. This band was not lifted until 1948, when laws were set in place to protect youth under 18 from being tattooed¹⁴. It was during this time that Japanese Tattooists and U.S. artists began to exchange designs¹⁵.

Japanese-style tattoos flourished in the West, but the tradition began to die out in its homeland as public bath houses banned tattoos. The rise of gangster movies and other media furthered the stigma that surrounds tattoos in modern Japan¹⁶.

Today, the stigma remains. Tattoos are banned from many bath houses and some restaurants ask patrons to cover their artwork before entering. An influx of foreigners is beginning to force a shift in this way of thinking however: as the 2020 Olympics loom in the back of their minds, more bath houses are allowing for patrons with tattoos. Tattoos are also becoming more popular with the youth of Japan, displaying a shift in perspective amongst the younger generation. Though the stigma remains, Japan may some day open the gates to tattoo culture once again.

By Liz Pinzon

1.      Samel, Swapna. “Tattooing in Japan: Through the Ages.” Indian History Congress vol. 65, pp. 964-970. 2004. Pp. 965. Accessed September 30, 2017. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44144805

2.      “History of Japanese Tattooing.” Vanishing Tattoo. Accessed September 30, 2017. http://www.vanishingtattoo.com/tattoo_museum/chinese_japanese_tattoos.html

3.      Samel, pp.966.

4.      Mitchell, Jon. “Japan Inked: Should the Country Reclaim its Tattoo Culture?” The Japan Times. May 3, 2014.Accessed September 30, 2017. https://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2014/05/03/lifestyle/japan-inked-country-reclaim-tattoo-culture/#.Wc63tMiGNPY

5.      Abid.

6.      Samel, pp. 966.

7.      Abid.

8.      “History of Japanese Tattooing.”

9.      Abid.

10.   Nessworthy, Catherine. “Yakuza Tattoos: Japanese Gang Members Wear the Culture of Crime.” Ratta Tattoo. February 7, 2013. Accessed October 1, 2017. https://rattatattoo.com/yakuza-tattoos-japanese-gang-members-wear-the-culture-of-crime/

11.   Abid.

12.   Richman-Abdou, Kelly. “Art History: Ancient Techniques and Evolution of Traditional Japanese tattoos. June 5, 2017. Accessed October 1, 2017.

13.   Mitchell.

14.   Samel, pp.967.

15.   Mitchell.

16.   Abid.