In Code Geass, the foremost enemy for the
heroic Japanese freedom fighters is the Holy
Britannian Empire. The series could hardly
be called a developed political tract, but
it holds strong in its anti-imperial principles
to the end, even as it takes its wildest turns.
But one question is never actually raised:
what, exactly, is an empire?
According to the Encyclopedia Britannica,
an empire is a state which rules a wide reach
of territories, whether through direct annexation
or through subtler means of exertion. Britannia
certainly fits that definition, ruling foreign
regions from its home base in North America,
usually in the form of direct rule by viceroys.
This definition doesn’t do much to tell
us why anti-imperialism matters though. If
Britannia simply declared Japan its territory,
but treated its people kindly, the resistance
to its rule would surely decline, and empires
were fought against long before proper nationalism
arose in the 18th century. No, while logistical
and philosophical issues may cause people
to dislike empires in the abstract, it’s
a more direct form of oppression that leads
to armed anti-imperialist struggle as seen
in Code Geass. So what is it about empires
that makes them oppress those they rule?
To understand that, we’ll need to turn to
another definition of empire. It’s a bit
wordy, but I’m partial to Lenin’s 1917
definition, which provides five features of
imperialism. First, it occurs at a point where
production and capital are concentrated such
that monopolies play a major role in economic
life. Second, it is marked by the merging
of the previously separate spheres of the
banks and industries into one larger sphere
of financial capital. Third, capital itself,
not just commodities, begins to be exported.
Fourth, capitalists and their state proxies
begin to divide the world among themselves.
Finally, it’s typified by the complete division
of the planet by the largest capitalist powers.
In other words, in the real world, the greatest
imperial powers of the present-day are the
United States, China, and Russia.
Code Geass is not particularly interested
in monopoly capital or finance, it must be
said, but Lenin’s definition is still useful
for understanding the show’s conception
of empire. First, Lenin establishes a clear
aim of imperial domination and annexation
that goes beyond a simplistic explanation
of “people and states wanting power.”
It’s certainly true that they do, but they
want it for the same reason that capitalist
firms want greater profit and wider markets:
because it allows them to outcompete their
enemies. Furthermore, Lenin provides a clear
reason for the immiseration of the local populations,
that being their greater exploitation. By
working imperial subjects, such as the Japanese
in Code Geass, well past the point that those
in the imperial homeland would be worked,
and rewarding them with far less material
wealth for their labor, those in the dominant
racial, ethnic, or national group can be pacified
themselves. Sure, a native Britannian may
be exploited by their own boss, but they’re
better off than an Eleven, aren’t they?
It’s the same logic that’s been used to
pacify the white working class for centuries.
This dulls the potential for revolution and
unrest in the home country, serving a social
benefit in addition to the economic power
gained from exclusive markets and monopolies
on resources. To the capitalists in the metropole,
it’s a win-win.
It would be fair to say, however, that Charles,
the emperor himself, doesn’t care about
any of this. He wants to succeed in his weird,
kind of stolen from Evangelion-ass plan, not
to empower Britannian capitalists or even
to pacify revolution. And yes, that’s certainly
true. But one thing he also wants is peace.
He conquers the world to achieve that through
supernatural means, but there's an implicit
suggestion that he’s also doing so because,
with no one left to fight, peace will be inevitable.
This implication is, of course, carried through
later on by Lelouch, who violently completes
his father’s attempt at world domination
as a means to peaceable unification through
a less supernatural manner, though it’s
no more realistic. In other words, both of
them conduct the business of empire with the
justification of human betterment and liberal
values. And unfortunately, that’s how it’s
gone every single time it’s happened historically.
America invaded Iraq with promises to bring
democracy. Britain occupied India for centuries
while proclaiming that they were civilizing
the people and advancing their infrastructure.
The Spanish conquered their way through the
Americas, with the help of intentional and
unintentional biological warfare, with the
express purpose of Christianizing the heathens
so that they wouldn’t be damned to hell.
While it would be easy to see these as merely
self-serving claims made to justify blatantly
horrendous actions, it must be admitted that
the imperialists themselves believed them,
at least some of the time. Charles and Lelouch
aren’t all that different, when it comes
down to it, which is why I believe Lenin’s
definition has merit here.
So, great, we’ve got a definition of empire
now. Britannia is an empire because it’s
an advanced capitalist state which seeks to
divide the world between itself and the other
strongest powers through monopolies, eventually
giving even that up and taking the whole planet
into its own sphere. That raises two more
questions though. Why, specifically, should
empire be resisted, and once that answer’s
been provided, how should it be done?
Well, those living in Area 11, the former
territory of Japan, certainly have a clear
reason to rebel. Britannia treats them as
second-class citizens in the best of times
and barely human colonial subjects in the
worst. While some of the empire’s colonies
have a degree of autonomy, this is limited,
and any given Area will ultimately be directed
to act to the empire’s needs. Some might
claim that this isn’t all bad for the colony.
In the annexation process, infrastructure
will be built, and the region will become
economically and geopolitically secure relative
to how it was while it was independent, as
Lelouch tells Kallen, at the cost of its pride.
Those like Suzaku show that this is a viable
path for individual success. Work well in
the colony, get yourself admitted as an honorary
Britannian, and tada. You may still be looked
down upon a little, but what’s the ultimate
issue with this?
The answer is twofold. First, this pathway
isn’t accessible to everyone. By virtue
of creating a privileged strata of honorary
Britannians, an underprivileged part must
also be maintained, or the whole system which
divides to conquer would fall apart. Second,
the racism directed towards the Japanese or
any other group simply doesn’t go away.
As Kallen’s episode with her mother demonstrates,
it’s impossible for even the best-off Japanese
to separate themselves from their kin, or
to ignore the inferiority that Britannia seeks
to ingrain deep within them. The racism is
too structurally upheld for all but the most
craven to simply ignore it.
This brings me to the other theorist who seems
vital to analyzing the anti-imperialism of
Code Geass: Frantz Fanon. In his book Black
Skin, White Masks, he analyzes the way that
black people are formed as thinking subjects,
using his practice as a psychoanalyst and
his knowledge of Hegelian dialectics, neither
of which you need to know for this video.
Fanon focuses on the way in which the glorification
of blackness is often a flipside of its alienation
by whites, and while he sees value in that
glorification, he makes it clear that it must
be careful, as simply mirroring what your
enemy is doing is not the path to liberation
and sometimes upholds the harmful attitudes
that racism generates. Colonization, in Fanon’s
view, necessarily leads to an internalization
of an inferiority complex, which comes about
from the process of being objectified, or
made into an object to be acted upon rather
than a thinking subject capable of agency.
While black people obviously think, and at
many times are treated as if they do, by being
Othered their subjectivity is ignored. The
dehumanization process, after all, reduces
other human beings to animals. In practical
terms, this often occurs through the demand
that they work for the dominant group, or
the act of having a slur yelled at them. And
this is certainly reflected in Code Geass.
Many of the Japanese have internalized the
fact that they’re Elevens, working for the
Britannians not just because they’re forced
to by the threat of violence, but due to being
convinced, ideologically, that they’re truly
inferior. Both the revolutionaries and the
beaten-down have come into their perspective
by being called Elevens. As Fanon says, the
black man is not just black but “black in
relation to the white man.” In other words,
Elevens are created by the Britannians, and
as long as they accept their place as Elevens,
they therefore cannot truly be free from Britannian
rule, literally or psychologically.
So, they must resist, asserting themselves
as culturally and politically Japanese by
throwing off the label of Eleven in a program
of national liberation, which brings us to
the second question of how that’s to be
conducted. One of Code Geass’ most fundamental
tensions is over the justification of violent
acts for beneficial ends. Lelouch and the
Black Knights believe that terrorism can be
righteous in certain situations, and that
if it’s conducted in order to prevent oppression
that it’s correct, and it shouldn’t surprise
you to hear that I agree with that view. Suzaku
and other honorary Britannians believe the
opposite, hoping that in working up the hierarchy
of the conquering power, they can influence
the greater state to behave in a more benevolent
manner. Frankly speaking, the show often treats
this idea as a joke. Suzaku is constantly
disappointed in spite of his efforts, and
he’s ultimately unable to change things
even after becoming one of Britannia’s finest
fighters. If his strategy were to ever work,
it would take an extremely long time for true
equality to come about, and in that time many
more Japanese would be crushed beneath the
heel of the imperial regime. At the same time,
though, the Euphemia plot casts doubt on the
idea that Lelouch and his freedom fighters
are wholly correct. After all, his pink-haired
half-sister was about to liberate Japan before
the need for the show to keep airing caused
Lelouch’s Geass to go off, right?
Well, that’s not totally correct. First,
Euphie intended to create a “Special Administrative
Zone,” which is notably not an independent
sovereign state. Certainly, it would elevate
the Japanese above their position as Elevens
and confer legal equality, but true autonomy
would still be lacking. Besides, there’s
absolutely no solution for the other Areas
in this plan, which the Black Knights recognize.
Indeed, while it’s clearly wrong when Lelouch
causes Euphie to kill everybody, thus sabotaging
the whole project, it’s equally clear that
the project never would’ve resulted in a
true liberation of the Japanese. The show
is not so willing to come down on the terrorism
that Lelouch advocates that strongly — after
all, it does eventually lead to a better world,
if an implausible one.
Can the means be justified by the ends so
simply, though? Is violence so acceptable
for liberation, revolution, and a world where
human flourishing can occur? Well, to answer
that let’s return to Fanon, this time his
other major work The Wretched of the Earth.
As he declares at the very start of the book,
“decolonization is always a violent event.”
The show, as always, is not so interested
in precise economics, but it hardly hides
the fact that Britannian elites have a vested
interest in maintaining Japan as their colony,
and not solely for ideological reasons. Violence,
or at least the threat of it, is necessary
to advance the aim of liberation, and even
the special zones were only proposed after
the Black Knights made the threat of rebellion
far more pressing to the Britannians. Furthermore,
Fanon’s emphasis on the role of guerilla
fighting in anti-colonial wars, drawing on
his own experience while working towards Algerian
independence from France, aligns greatly with
an approach that the series seems to respect.
The Black Knights eventually take up the approach
of a classic military, but one of Japan’s
great assets in the struggle is the low-level
resistance by ordinary Japanese which enable
successful guerilla combat. Without it, many
of their important early battles would’ve
been lost. Violent struggle gets the goods.
Fanon also warns against the so-called local
bourgeoisie, who can quickly slip in and take
up the same position as that of the colonizer
once he’s been pushed out, and Code Geass,
lacking any meaningful critique of capitalism,
fails to portray any caution in that regard.
Similarly, it’s less concerned with the
catharsis created by violence against the
oppressor, and if anything is skeptical of
the prospect of taking joy from the necessary
violence of liberation, hence Lelouch’s
tragic fate rather than triumphant one. Overall,
however, its position overlaps in many ways
with Fanon’s: revolutionary violence is
required in order to eliminate the feelings
of inferiority generated by the colonial empire
as well as its material oppression, as it
will not simply recede for moral reasons.
For a series which goes in such interesting
directions, it’s got a remarkably developed
view of anti-imperial politics.
