rook

As someone who's been writing military science-fiction for years, and have many friends in or formerly in the military (some of which are authors themselves,) I have something to say about this: If all Yoshiyuki Tomino has to say with his art is that "war is bad," then he should stop making art, as he's only going to waste our time. Any fool with two brain cells to rub together knows that war is ugly, brutal and costly. That doesn't mean war is pointless and should never be fought no matter the circumstances. In fact, such a statement is worse than pointless, as lethal conflict is a common constant of human civilization - and, for that matter, a constant among the vast majority of life existing on Earth, even between bacteria. If all your story does is shout "this is bad!" it's a childish lament that leaves a tremendous amount of this constant of human existence unexamined. Who fights wars - the elites, like the ancient Greek Hoplites, or the knights of the middle ages, or the common men who volunteer, like in many modern nations? What do they fight for - for the ideals of their beloved nation, for honor and glory, or to save the women and children in the city that stands at their backs? What defines a good soldier? What defines a good leader? These questions are just as essential for us as they were for our forefathers, because the world is a tumultuous place full of evil people and great dangers and the time is coming, sooner than many may think, where wars between great powers will shake the foundations of the world and the lives of millions will hang in the balance. To explore questions like this, of such import to our souls, is one of the core reasons people tell stories to begin with. And our tools and machines have always been essential to the conduct of war and the defense of all we hold dear. Men have told stories of talking swords or "tsukumogami" for as long as swords have existed; long before we could even conceptualize a thinking machine might be made with science; we dreamt of them existing through magic or spirit. Tools are what first brought us out of the trees to stride the earth as its masters; in the tools we shape and wield with our own hands we make manifest our intent, our will, our spirit. In the modern age, the vastness of our creations sometimes makes it easy to forget, but the human element is still the entire point. I quote from page 71 of "Shattered Sword" by Johnathan Parshall and Anthony Tully: "The study of naval warfare (more than any other form of combat) holds the potential to completely subordinate the human element to the weapons themselves. Naval combat is conducted almost exclusively by means of machines – machines that are in many cases so huge and grand that they often seem to take on a life and personality of their own that transcend the tiny figures that inhabit them. Yet, in the final analysis, it is men who live in the ship, command and fight the ship, and often die in the ship. Their story, no matter how seemingly eclipsed by the great vessels they serve in, is still the fundamental story to be related.” Its only natural we should be entranced with the great machines of war that we build, as they're the final product of the genius and labors of an entire society; fashioned into an incredible tool that is nothing if not wielded by the hand of a skilled warrior devoted to his craft and his mission. I know of not a single mecha story that runs afoul of Parshall and Tully's warning as quoted above; everyone seems to understand the assignment. The ones that don't are the likes of Tomino, or his fellow anti-war traveler Miyazaki. I can't understand a man who thinks fighter planes are beautiful but has little more to say about war than "it's bad;" he refuses to see that the beautiful form of a fighter plane follows its function, and that there's a savage, primal beauty in that function, like the fury that animates a thunderstorm. Or the fury and purpose that animate its pilot, for that matter. Tomino seems to think that "nothing of substance is getting across." I disagree. I think the substance came across very well, and many in younger generations just think that substance is woefully lacking. There's a cutscene in the Knights of the Old Republic, between Carth Onasi and Canderous, where Carth expounds on the difference between "soldiers" and "warriors," defining warriors as those who fight for plunder and the glory of conquest, and soldiers as those who fight to protect their nation and peoples - usually from warriors. He made a great point, but Canderous wasn't entirely wrong. As any fighter pilot can tell you, you need more than noble motivations to sacrifice and serve to be truly excellent - to overcome your enemy in an aerial duel, you need that urge to "lean in" to the fight; that competitive drive - a part of you needs to love the fight. Many soldiers over the ages have spoken of this; as Robert E. Lee said "it's well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it." It's that primal urge drawn straight from our deepest instincts; that thirst to compete and win, that gives soldiers the fire and fury to do their utmost in combat, to win the challenge, to defeat those who would plunder their temples, raze their cities and enslave their women and children. That is the truth of war, every bit as much as the death and boredom and bloodshed and terror. And if you can only tell one half of that truth, because the other half doesn't align with your political or personal views, then I don't give a god damn what you have to say about it, or about the works of storytellers who do.

A very modern High School in Shenzhen China. Notice anything out of the ordinary？