Too Big To be A Sword
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I have become obsessed with the Japanese manga series Berserk. A dark fantasy set in medieval Europe, it features a powerful but flawed protagonist called Guts. His sword the Dragon Slayer is described repeatedly thus: "That thing was too big to be a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy and too rough. It was more like a large hunk of iron." You can see readily why this tortured hero, who fights not only the demons around him, but also the worse ones within, should draw to him teenage boys and all who have kept the wounds of male teenage-hood.
In interviews, the creator of Berserk, Kentaro Miura, owns up to the influence of Friedrich Nietzsche. Of particular relevance is the German philosopher's warning, that "whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." It is a warning that is of great pertinence, as I see it, to our political moment. In our pursuit of justice we must be wary of not becoming unjust. Self-examination is a great thing, but far more useful, I realize, is to surround oneself with comrades who would remonstrate with one. Guts would have made better choices, as the idiom of the day has it, if he listens to his band of friends.
Like all psychologistic fictions and philosophies, Berserk is always in danger of neglecting economics. It is highly attuned to the costs of ambition and the wages of sin, but it does not really examine the material basis of power. Castles are fortified and mercenaries are paid, but we don't see where the resources come from. What is the source of the iron in that huge sword? As always the journalistic slogan has it right, follow, follow the money.
Jee Leong Koh
June 18, 2020
I have become obsessed with the Japanese manga series Berserk. A dark fantasy set in medieval Europe, it features a powerful but flawed protagonist called Guts. His sword the Dragon Slayer is described repeatedly thus: "That thing was too big to be a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy and too rough. It was more like a large hunk of iron." You can see readily why this tortured hero, who fights not only the demons around him, but also the worse ones within, should draw to him teenage boys and all who have kept the wounds of male teenage-hood.
In interviews, the creator of Berserk, Kentaro Miura, owns up to the influence of Friedrich Nietzsche. Of particular relevance is the German philosopher's warning, that "whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." It is a warning that is of great pertinence, as I see it, to our political moment. In our pursuit of justice we must be wary of not becoming unjust. Self-examination is a great thing, but far more useful, I realize, is to surround oneself with comrades who would remonstrate with one. Guts would have made better choices, as the idiom of the day has it, if he listens to his band of friends.
Like all psychologistic fictions and philosophies, Berserk is always in danger of neglecting economics. It is highly attuned to the costs of ambition and the wages of sin, but it does not really examine the material basis of power. Castles are fortified and mercenaries are paid, but we don't see where the resources come from. What is the source of the iron in that huge sword? As always the journalistic slogan has it right, follow, follow the money.
Jee Leong Koh
June 18, 2020
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