I’m twelve episodes into Zeta Gundam (which is in turn the fifth series in my project to acquaint myself, finally, with UC Gundam), and I suppose it’s about time that I started collecting my thoughts. I’d probably misplace them otherwise, and that wouldn’t do.

What strikes me (lolpun) about Zeta is the willingness of its characters to slap the hell out of each other. As in 0079, much of the non-mecha physical violence we see in Zeta occurs between people on the same side — and, as in 0079, it serves as a reminder that people on the same side don’t always or even typically get along, that “sides” are deceptively arbitrary. But Zeta takes it to the limit. Here, physical violence between allies is an institution.

And, jarringly, it’s an institution as much cultural as military. At times physical attack is employed simply as a conversational technique; characters express displeasure and even puzzlement by hitting one another. The attackers aren’t trying to prove a point or knock sense into their victims; they’re just communicating, really, and nobody seems particularly fazed by this, as long as the physical harm inflicted is minimal. It’s really quite absurd — but, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the absurd. Absurdity is almost a given in mecha anime at any rate. Zeta is perhaps notable, though, for its divergent modes of absurdity.

The inherent absurdity of giant robots allows mecha anime to be filled with more absurd things. If a show takes transforming plane-mecha for granted, it’s not a bit of a stretch to include space vampires or guitar-controlled cockpits. Or the whole my-robot-is-really-my-mother thing. Or Tang. [Schneider, "Absurdity in Mecha Anime"]

Schneider has it right, I think — the very existence of giant robots in a setting makes accepting related conceits easier. But the institutionalization of physical violence is (probably) not a related conceit. It’s not a hard-science absurdity; it’s a social, cultural absurdity, and it feels absurd even after we’ve granted humanoid war machines that surf on hover-rockets in South America. It might be difficult to justify; it might be symptomatic of that (in)famous Tomino depression — but if we can justify it, it might just be a clever narrative move.

Consider that, while Gundam is quick to humanize its petty officers and ensigns, it’s often just as quick to justify the less savory actions of the rank-and-file by putting rather stark villains in positions of power. 0079 has Giren Zabi; 0080 has the amusingly-named Killing; 08th MS Team has Gineas Sahalin, whose surprise mom issues aren’t given much time to confound his morality, and he’s matched on the Fed side by a few unpleasant commanders. If soldiers serving such leaders are responsible for the atrocities their commanders endorse, it’s at least a shared responsibility, responsibility that percolates down from the highest ranks. And maybe this is inevitable, maybe these villainous-types are necessary for conflict to continue beyond a certain point — after all, if both sides were allowed to understand each other as we understand them, there wouldn’t be much of a war.

In Zeta, however, gratuitous violence isn’t exclusive to, say, Bask Om. It’s everywhere. It’s such a part of human society in 0087 that Kamille’s kneejerk reaction to a minor insult involves attacking the eight or so Titans who insulted him, escaping arrest by kicking his interrogator in the head, and stealing a Gundam Mk. II so he can terrorize the people who pissed him off. This is utterly ridiculous. Even if we grant that the Federal military is complacent and lax in its security at this point, it’s hard to believe a teenager, even one dissatisfied with the people who have requisitioned his home and converted it into a secret base, would hijack dangerous weaponry to wreak vengeance upon those who pointed out in passing that he has a feminine name.

But the absurdity — the absurdism — at work here is precisely the point. The line between Federation and Zeon was always thin; the line between Titans and A.E.U.G. is practically nonexistent. In a society so inundated with violence, war would’ve happened eventually, regardless of what the warring sides chose to call themselves. Enlisted soldiers and officers alike serve violence itself more than they serve any military hierarchy, and fight because that’s just the thing to do at their particular point in history — in other words, we’re given a level playing field that seems to favor, morally speaking, neither privates nor admirals. Those characters accused of simply enjoying war, such as Lila Rira, are those who seem to realize this. I have to wonder if Zeon Deikun thought up his rebellion because he foresaw such conflict, and guessed that it couldn’t be avoided by a Federation-run human race.

In the interest of making the title of this post mean something, then, where does the year 0087 stand in the UC history of violence? I’ll have a more concrete answer once I’ve finished Zeta, but so far it’s looking quite a bit like a violent apotheosis, a period of violence for its own sake. I think I’m beginning to understand what Turn A Gundam’s Dark History was all about.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 18th, 2010 at 3:04 pm and is filed under Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.