Hello E4!
I enjoy writing and philosophizing and take great care to aim for perfection and seek the truth. I have written quite a lengthy essay (which I am going to make into a video for my YouTube channel) about the artistry of the very first episode of Pokémon. One little problem though: I cannot decide for the life of me whether to refer to Ash’s Pikachu as an “it” or a “he”.
I actually somewhat delved into this conundrum in the essay itself. I initially referred to Pikachu as an “it” throughout the essay, but while thinking it over I realized that Pikachu and many other human-trained Pokémon are essentially human in character–well, sometimes at least. They go through dynamic character change, possess morals, and are self-conscious–all traits that are essentially exclusive to humans. That made me think I should start referring to Pikachu as “he” and started going back to edit the whole essay for each instance of “it”…but then reading these edited sentences just didn’t sound right; it felt very off referring to Pikachu as “he”. “It” sounded so much smoother.
For those familiar with the Pokemon anime or perhaps even those who are not, what is your take on this? In a professional writing sense, should Pikachu (and perhaps other human-trained Pokémon) be referred to as an “it” or not?***** * * * * * *
I have my own justification for referring to Pikachu as “he” in my essay, but like I said, I’m really having a lot of doubts about this. Here’s the full context for anyone bored enough to trudge through my overly-wordy ramblings (click the red stuff):
[SPOILER: Click to show](javascript:void(0)
GIANT WALL OF TEXT–YOU’VE BEEN WARNEDAlthough it is not stated as to why Pikachu does not like being inside of a Poké Ball nor as to why he has a “problem” as Prof. Oak says, his disobedience and disrespect toward Ash appears to be unusual for a trainer-owned Pokémon. But then again, the assertion that a Pokémon owned by a human should obey the human is baseless. However, given Pikachu’s character shift during the climax, it can be inferred that a trainer-owned Pokémon obeys because it respects its trainer. Pikachu gained respect for Ash when he showed that he was willing to sacrifice his life to protect him, and so he denies the opportunity to save himself and risks his own life to save Ash. These are the ultimate acts of altruism, the greatest possible sacrifices, the highest good. Pikachu’s change of heart shows he is capable of human-like character development, appears to possess a moral code, and has intelligence beyond that of any ordinary animal—he even seems to be able to comprehend human speech. (This is the justification for this essay’s usage of “he” instead of “it” when referring to Ash’s Pikachu.) But then, by extension, is every Pokémon capable of such human-like moral and intellectual potential? It also begs the question: in the abstract and storytelling sense, should Pokémon be considered to be a part of nature, or should they be considered to be equivalent to human? If it is the latter, then it begs another question: if Pokémon are equivalent to human in every way but shape and name, then why do they submit to and obey humans despite their largely superior strength and equivalent morality and intellect? It seems that a Pokémon Trainer is supposed to interact with nature in a symbiotic manner: he is to bring nature under his command, but in such a way that is of a net benefit to the Pokémon. As stated by Ash’s Pokédex, wild Pokémon appear to be jealous of human-trained Pokémon. If this is the case, then why would a wild Pokémon resist capture by fighting back? Perhaps they determine the worth of man by battling back, and it is only if man can defeat the creature that the creature determines that it is worthwhile to be trained and live under man. Pokémon would rather be in the caring, capable hands of man than be left untamed and have their true potential unrealized living in the wild. Following this train of logic would make man superior over Pokémon and parallels the real world hierarchy of man over animals. Scripturally, this is justifiable because man is made in God’s image, and God has granted man superiority over beast. Beyond scripture, man’s unique trait of self-consciousness—our ability to consider future impacts of our actions and choose beyond mere instinct—gives humans authority animals. But then, relating back to the work at hand, are Pokémon self-conscious? Perhaps there is a point of compromise: for storytelling purposes, Pokémon can serve as stand-ins for “nature”—parallel to animals and under the discretion of instinct—or they act as a human proxy, capable of self-consciousness and complete with moral and intellectual reasoning. The complexity of these matters is, evidently, stupefying, and requires its own individual, dedicated, and intricate assessment to even begin to gain a semblance of a strong understanding. And even then, the ambiguity may be so permeant that the answer is more fluid and less concrete than one of rigid, stubborn (autistic) mind would like to concede. To conclude this thought on a point of actually firm comprehension, it is clear that Ash’s ultimate act of responsibility granted him Pikachu’s respect, and thus Pikachu deems Ash to be worthy and capable of commanding him.
