Unprecedented Times
by Yoshiyuki Tomino

The word “unprecedented” carries a grave significance.

It’s not a word to be thrown around lightly.

When we say that the present era is unprecedented, I’d hope people would realize just how extraordinary these times truly are. So, I’ll try to be a bit humble about it, but I remain puzzled that this understanding doesn’t sink in.

If someone argues, “Isn’t all of history just a series of ‘unprecedented events’?” I’d have to concede, yes, in a way.

After all, history is just an accumulation of the new. No one knows what will happen tomorrow, so what’s so special about calling this era unprecedented now?

That’s one perspective. But here’s another way of looking at history.

People say that human nature doesn’t change, so history repeats itself. If that’s true, then reading history books or enjoying period dramas isn’t just a pastime; it’s instructive. And the reason it can teach us something is that we can see “people” in it. History is the sum of people’s actions. If that’s the case, then maybe we don’t really live in unprecedented times. Maybe we can find examples in the past that illuminate our future path. That’s another perspective.

The truth is a strange thing. Even when there’s only one fact, its interpretation—whether as something right, left, or centered—depends entirely on who’s evaluating it and how.

So some people, wary that immediate, practical judgment might lead to errors in predicting the future, look far beyond the present. For example, Adrian Berry’s book The Next Ten Thousand Years takes a huge temporal leap and tries to depict humanity’s future on that scale.

This isn’t just futuristic speculation about technology. I believe it’s a book borne of Berry’s wish not to despair over humanity.

From a realist perspective, people often turn pessimistic, and those of my generation might even romanticize the term “outsider.” The real problem back then was that we didn’t try to take the so-called “outsider’s” methods—their worldview—and run it through the world. Instead, we just admired the gloom and doom, the tragic poses.

Acting tragic or tortured creates a perfect posture for looking like you’re “truly living.” I know younger folks today might say, “We don’t do that anymore.”

But then, let me ask: if “crystal” was the next big thing, is that any better?

(For posterity: In the late 1980s, there was a popular youth novel called Nan to Naku, Kurisutaru, aka Somehow, Crystal, that sold incredibly well, and it even got made into a movie. For about a year, this “crystal” notion was all the rage. But it carried no real meaning!)

So, is crystal any good? More to the point, did anything actually get resolved by calling it “crystal?”

It’s not about solving problems; at that time, it seemed if we just said “crystal,” that was enough. But is Japan really shining with some kind of dazzling substance, even if fake, that “crystal” could capture? If there’s no substance, we’re just decorating the surface to distract ourselves, right?

So we say, “It can’t be helped—that’s reality. Japan’s gotten so cramped we can’t even ride a bike, so what’s left?”

If that’s the case, why not turn to drugs, pick up girls recklessly, mock the teachers, and so forth? But we can’t, so we attend cram schools and regular schools because our parents seem to want us on a socially approved path. That’s not very individualistic, so we try to find a niche, even if we don’t particularly want anything, like becoming a sort of “maniac” collector. Audio gear maniac, snapshot camera maniac, car maniac… we run out of ideas and start taping secret recordings, doing full-range eavesdropping, obsessing over steam locomotives (SL), stamps, posters, adult magazines, model guns… Eventually, we act like we know all about lesbianism, homosexuality, S&M. At that point, I have to ask: who are you people, really?

A real enthusiast doesn’t parade their mania around for the general public. Trends in pop culture are always just fads.

Isn’t this just a simulated event pretending to celebrate individuality?

That’s what I want to say.

Yet, list these phenomena out and they do sparkle a bit. If you bury yourself in these fake “crystal-like” shines, maybe you can distract yourself for half a year, maybe a whole year. At least it might keep a youngster from wanting to die young or from stabbing their friend’s little sister.

Some people resist even this faux crystal. Because it’s fake, they search for something more fitting, wondering if there’s something truly worthy to aim for. They grow inwardly restless, perhaps turning autistic in their isolation.

But when it comes to surviving in this world, gaining the strength you need only comes through training.

Not “A foolish thought is as good as doing nothing,” but “A mistaken conviction will distort the entire person.” You have to actually do things. If you never try, you’ll never see results. I want people to really feel that.

It’s said that in pro baseball, the minor league players who make it to the majors are the ones who get by on “Yes, sir!” without argument.

If we consider students as the “minor league” of society, that analogy partially fits.

The more faux crystal and hollow trends flood society, the more a certain historical reality advances quietly underneath.

This contrast is sharper than anything we’ve seen before. The gap is so unprecedented that we can truly say we live in extraordinary times.

I’ve already touched on the surface manifestations.

Many of you probably know the name of the “Club of Rome.” It’s a group of international intellectuals who, back before the 1973 oil shock, tried to forecast the problems Spaceship Earth would face in the near future and urged governments around the world to take measures.

Unfortunately, because the Club of Rome’s perspective was rooted in Western thought, we Japanese treated it as just another piece of massive, abstract information.

Even I initially thought that the Club of Rome’s warnings were just a pastime for global intellectuals spawned by the advanced world.

But then came the first and second oil shocks. A handful of deliberate maneuvers shook the very foundations of some nations. I found that strange.

Even so, Japan’s economy weathered those shocks and pressed on. Yet no 20- or 30-year national vision emerged. Instead, politicians remained obsessed with winning votes. That makes me too tired to even bother pointing out that before they accuse gun enthusiasts of militarism, maybe they should think about the country’s self-sufficiency.

If the government claims, “We’re continuing the Sunshine Project,” I want to ask, “So, Dad, what’s our self-sufficiency rate for crops besides rice?”

We have no historical precedent for an era in which the demographic weight of middle-aged and older citizens grows this heavy. No fundamental solution exists. We’ll need methodologies that break old ethics and social norms.

Yet, in the Third World, where long life expectancy is still a distant dream, millions of children starve.

How do we balance life on Spaceship Earth when such disparate societies coexist?

This question itself is something we’ve never faced before. If we evenly distributed the world’s population and cultural resources, maybe we could support ten billion people, right?

But in today’s international climate, where nationalism is stronger than ever, could we ever reach a consensus on redistributing populations evenly?

Everything is like that.

There’s not a single simple solution.

We can’t just give up, nor should we indulge in hypocritical solutions that yield nothing but wasted effort.

Today, it seems even wastefulness must be condemned.

We shouldn’t be encouraging consumer frenzy with endless new products, nor should we allow something as wasteful as anime to flaunt itself so brazenly.

Capitalist or socialist, it’s time for structural reform. At least in a small country like Japan, this should be urgent.

We must speak up and gain as many allies as possible to reach a consensus.

If that means we have to use anime, then so be it—that’s where we stand now.

A double-edged sword.

It might take a lifetime. Will we make it in time? I’m not sure.

But despair is easy, and whether we make it or not, we have to keep speaking out.

We’re not alone—awareness that these are unprecedented times is spreading across various fields, so there’s no need to despair.

People are starting to realize that something must be done. In all areas…

I hope you will seize these developments and join them as soon as you can. In the end, it’s popular will—the people—that move a nation.

I don’t believe that the blood of high-ranking bureaucrats, politicians, or technologists, who survive by little ploys, can become so robust as to support an entire people.

I want you to take this as your own, personal issue. Use it to pressure society with your power.

You might say, “You just want Gundam to be a propaganda vanguard, right?” If someone even jokingly said that, I’d be pleased. But unfortunately, to spread what I’ve written here widely, we’d need something more powerful and clearer.

One of you out there must be the protagonist, the one who will step forward.

When that time comes, I hope I can stand tall without flinching. That’s all I can say for myself.

It’s frustrating, but that’s reality. Still, I will not despair, because I want to live a little longer…

Source: Soldiers of Sorrow BGM Collection (1981)