By I’ve actually avoided openly discussing my love for models until now. When I thought about the content of this series, I hesitated a bit. When it comes to making models, I always find myself questioning whether it can simply be categorized as a hobby.
There Were Gundams, Tanks, Fighter Planes, Warships, and Trains at the Model Shop
This is a story from my elementary school days, but I still vividly remember a conversation I overheard at a local model shop. At that time, I was looking for a plastic model of a German tank from World War II. To be honest, I was more just browsing because with my allowance, I couldn’t easily afford Tamiya models. There were a few customers in the shop (it was a time when model shops were quite lively!), and I remember two older gentlemen chatting quietly a little distance away. One of them expressed a concern along the lines of, “By making models of warships, tanks, and fighter planes, aren’t we instilling a mentality in children that views war positively?” The other gentleman responded, “Well, well, models are just a hobby; that’s a bit of an overreaction.” I still wonder what context led to that conversation in a model shop, but it stuck in my mind. On that day, as an elementary school student who had come to look at tank models, I felt an odd discomfort from their discussion and quietly left the scene. Nevertheless, the model shop had Gundams, tanks, fighter planes, warships, and also trains, cars, and motorcycles. (These days, there are a lot of figures, right?)
When listing countries with a vibrant model culture, it seems many of them once identified as “empires.” For example, in Britain, the popularity of model trains and ships seems to stem from their representation of the power of the illustrious British Empire. Recreating the ships of the Royal Navy, which once ruled the seven seas, as intricate models seems to carry a meaning beyond mere hobby. My generation, having watched “Trainspotting” during our student days, might recall a scene in that film set in a lost England where an alcoholic old man obsessed with ship models appears. I feel like he was very much present in the film, but I might be confusing it with another movie. In any case, the old man, holed up in a messy room, was constantly building warship models. He seemed to cling to lost glory, unable to face his circumstances, which resonated with me. (Though I also feel like it might not be “Trainspotting.” I looked for information about it but couldn’t find anything related. Regardless, I feel like watching it again after a long time.)
While I think there is indeed that aspect to models, seeing the recent rise of model manufacturers in Korea and China makes me feel that any nostalgia for past empires is ultimately just a fanciful notion. In East Asia, it might be more fitting to say, “Well, it seems we have some skill with our hands.”
Such inquiries are often posed by a subset of non-model enthusiasts in the model community, and they might be treated as unwelcome “accusations.” Once that topic comes up, the conversation is essentially over; there’s nothing more to discuss with that person. It’s just a hobby, so please leave it alone; I don’t want anyone probing into my private matters. Model enthusiasts aren’t particularly prominent in society, and model shops are dwindling, making them seem like an endangered species. While I might agree with that sentiment, as an unbuilt model enthusiast, the conversation I overheard in that model shop still feels like a thorn that hasn’t quite come out, lodged somewhere within me.
It’s hard to ignore the fact that models seem to have played an important role in education. During the war, Japanese elementary schools (then called national schools) reportedly held classes where students made wooden warship models. Really? Apparently, there were kits with specialized wooden parts for warship models that schools purchased in bulk. I apologize for my vague recollection, but when I heard this, I was reminded of a scene from the manga “Hadashi no Gen,” which directly addresses the atomic bomb and Japan’s war responsibility. In that story, the protagonist Gen receives a wooden warship model from a neighbor, but his younger brother is trapped under the rubble of a bombed house and dies holding that model. The depiction of the warship model is quite significant, and there may have been an underlying premise of making warship models in schools. Both Gen and his brother desperately want that well-made warship model and play with it joyfully. The model of the warship exists as part of a system that integrates the populace for total war efforts, mobilizing children, especially “boys,” into “cool wars.” Were all schools doing this? What was the participation rate? How was it used (teaching methods)? Many questions arise, but when making or holding a model, the emotions that arise in a person cannot simply be dismissed with “it’s just a hobby.” Therefore, there were indeed movements to utilize it for “education,” which doesn’t seem too far-fetched.
Gundam and Imaginary Weapons from the War Era
In high school, I encountered discussions surrounding Gundam. A senior boldly criticized, “Gundam glorifies war!” While I think this extreme viewpoint stemmed from a high schooler’s sense of justice, I felt a sense of discomfort with their argument, having already heard Yoshiyuki Tomino’s anti-war statements. However, considering that the series is essentially a promotional anime for selling plastic models, I could see how the attractive depictions of battle scenes could indeed be a target for criticism. It’s often said that there is a notable similarity between children enjoying the rich lore of imaginary weapon development in Gundam (including variations like modified types, old and new models, and land or amphibious types) and children during the war enjoying illustrated explanations of imaginary super weapons published in boys’ magazines. The illustrations of imaginary weapons that militaristic boys delighted in directly connect to the “future city illustrations” depicted in post-war children’s magazines, and one direct descendant of that lineage is the setting materials of robot anime like Gundam. I, too, was a huge fan of those kinds of richly detailed setting books. So, when I hear about the illustrated explanations of imaginary scientific weapons published in wartime boys’ magazines, I think, “Ah, if I had been a child back then, I would have definitely been captivated.”
Just because one builds models of warships or fighter planes doesn’t mean they become militarists, but I can’t completely dismiss the feeling that there might be some “seed” lurking within the emotions that models evoke, which could inadvertently sprout. I can understand that there is indeed a certain excitement in building models of “cool” fighter planes, tanks, and warships.
The “Important” People Playing with Toys
The manga “The Great War of Archimedes” by Norifusa Mita, which was also adapted into a film, features a genius mathematician who dislikes the military trying to stop the construction of the Yamato by designing it and also designing the Zero fighter. In it, the “important” naval officers are depicted arranging models of warships they plan to build, giggling and saying, “I like this one” and “I like that one,” which is derisively referred to as “playing with toys.” In another scene, military staff are shown excitedly playing with small warship models made for tabletop exercises. I think this theme is quite significant in the work, as it suggests that war may have an inseparable connection to “playing with toys.” At the end of toy play, one may not want to kill or be killed.
Miniatures, in a sense, allow one to enjoy a “god’s-eye view.” During the Meiji period, there were already panoramas combining battlefield dioramas and photographic projections as attractions, and the “god’s-eye view,” which had been monopolized by rulers, became a form of entertainment in the age of the masses. The panorama as an attraction was soon replaced by moving pictures and eventually evolved into special effects films. The combat scenes created using models in special effects films, which have a certain simplicity and awkwardness, are now reproduced with overwhelming realism through CGI. CGI can be seen as a kind of virtual model. One enjoys the recreated weapons in combat scenes that fill the screen, separate from the drama the film conveys. Those intricate and captivating images are, like the wartime propaganda films created to boost morale, often the visuals where weapons appear “most cool.”
Models as Cursed Objects
Models might, in a sense, be considered cursed objects. They can serve as vessels for souls, harbor chains of resentment, or sometimes nurture an insatiable longing for power. Models seem to possess a mysterious power that awakens and amplifies some fundamental life force or curse. The discomfort I felt as an elementary school student may have been an intuition about this unresolved duality, the intrinsic nature of models.
And that continues to this day.
Harada
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