What Can Street Fighter II Teach Us About Early ’90s Geopolitics?
Let me start with an obvious disclaimer — when the developers at Capcom created Street Fighter II: The World Warrior circa the early 90’s, I don’t believe they said “Hey, let’s make a game that represents today’s cultural values!”
However, when you look at the initial release of the arcade game (way back in 1991), it seems to depict a joint US-Japanese perspective of the era.
If you believe National Geographic’s dewy-eyed nostalgia fest, the ’90s was “The Decade That Connected Us”. But that’s only part of the story — the first half of the era saw massive upheaval at the geopolitical level.
Aptly enough, Street Fighter II mirrors both the USA and Japan’s national psyche, right after the end of the Cold War: insecurity about their position as global superpowers, and pent-up anxiety about new emerging market players.
“Attack me if you dare, I will crush you!”
Think about it. Ryu and Ken, as the de facto protagonists of Street Fighter II, are symbolic of the fraught trade relations between Japan and the US, in light of Japan’s soon-to-burst 80s bubble economy and the US recession of 1990.
Downsizing, layoffs, runaway inflation — the US economy at the time was just about ready to tank. And yet America had emerged the undisputed victor of the Cold War. Ken’s cocksure attitude matches the gross national overconfidence that led to the USA’s involvement in Operation Desert Storm, and the first Gulf War.
To him, only modern Japan — represented by Ryu, as opposed to stodgy, traditional sumo wrestler E. Honda — was a worthy rival.
“You did quite well, but you need more training to defeat me!”
In retrospect, we know that Japan was about to enter a “Lost Decade” when Street Fighter II hit the market. It was all kicked off by a massive stock market crash in 1989; as equity and asset values dropped, Japanese banks and insurance companies were left with books full of massive bad debts.
However, after the long boom period of the 1980s, Japan was hard-pressed to acknowledge the shit it was going through. It was so flush with cash that it didn’t realize the quality control problems of its lending policies.
Likewise, Ryu regards himself as the standard-setter for the World Warrior tournament, as if his Dragon Punch and “Sheng Long” (a mistranslation of “Shoryuken”) are the be-all, end-all of martial prowess. The fact that he’s actually programmed that way just reinforces the devs’ cognitive biases.
“His empire will surely collapse.”
At the time Street Fighter II was being rolled out in commercial video arcades, the breakdown of the Soviet Union was ongoing, riding the wave of President Mikhail Gorbachev’s call for perestroika (market reforms) and glasnost (diplomatic relations with the West).
Meanwhile, in China, Premier Deng Xiaoping’s market reforms were sweeping through the country, in the wake of the bloody massacre at Tienanmen Square in June 1989. Communism, as we knew it, was on its way to becoming a discredited system; iron-fist central governments loosened their brutal control over everyday life, and Western chain stores were making plans to set up shop.
And so we now had Zangief, who represented a goofier, more light-hearted side of the USSR. He may have wrestled his foes on the shop floor of a decaying, state-run factory, but once he achieved victory in Shadaloo, it was small-p party time. His end-game sequence begins with Gorbachev himself arriving via helicopter to toast his win.
So what does old stain-head do next? Dedicate an industrial zone in Zangief’s name? Praise him as a model of glorious citizenship, for those at risk of becoming capitalist running dogs? No, he rounds up some KGB agents and busts a move — specifically, a traditional Hopak dance.
You know, that Russian squat dance, which only represents prisyadka or knee-bending, just one step of the full Hopak routine.
“…back to being a young single girl”
If Zangief’s narrative arc established that a triumph for one Russian is still a win for the entire Motherland, Chun-Li’s couldn’t be more hyper-individualized. Although hailing from urban China, her character development in the game is an intensely personal one.
Yes, it’s ultimately motivated by a sense of family duty — to avenge her father’s death at the hands of Bison, natch. But the last frame of her ending sequence is what really counts — Chun-Li tosses away the combat qipao she’s worn throughout the game.
By extension, she refuses to be defined by the martial role she performed throughout the World Warrior tournament. The emphasis on her age, civil status, and gender — “young single girl” — paired with her skimpy outfit, calls attention to her likely future plans, fan service-y as they may seem.
Here comes a new challenger!
India and Brazil — now part of the solid BRICS economic bloc — were decidedly emerging markets, back when Street Fighter II first came out. As a perceived threat to the world superpower role of the US and Japan, they must have seemed like freakish anomalies. How did these developing countries go from Third World basket cases to nascent market players in such a brief period? It must have felt downright Bizarro.
Aptly enough, the two most inhuman-looking characters of the game hailed from those places. Dhalsim (from India) had stretchy, pliable limbs, and could breathe fire.
Meanwhile, green-skinned, electrified Blanka (hailing from a fishing village in the rain forests of Brazil) seemed to be more beast than man.
While it made for a unique gameplay experience, neither character seemed particularly adept at surviving 2-player combat. (Or maybe it’s just how my pre-teen self was using them.)
At first glance, this does seem like crass Othering — a bid to dehumanize the citizens of emerging markets. But it’s somewhat understandable, given the prevailing cultural biases of the era.
The 90’s may well have been “The Decade That Connected Us”, but in 1991, that process was far from complete.
Originally published at The Mad Sorbetero, September 2014
