A Life with Someone to Cheer For — Where Do Idols Go from Here

Last time, we saw the K-POP that crossed the sea and the questions it cast at Japan’s sense of idols. Polish, or closeness? Global standards, or one’s own style? Yet the largest change now underway may be happening not on the side of idols, but on the side of fans. The very act of cheering for someone has begun to take deep root in daily life as a culture of its own.

The word that mirrors that change was ‘oshikatsu.’ A general term for the activity of supporting a beloved object — one’s oshi — it is said to have spread rapidly upon entering the 2020s, to the point of being taken up as a new and trending word. Standing at the end of a long journey, this chapter takes the phenomenon of oshikatsu as its entry point and, surveying social media and self-presentation, the appearance of new icons, and the course of diversity, quietly brings this story to a close.

An Economy of Living with an ‘Oshi’

Behind the spread of the word oshikatsu, people point to the proliferation of social media and to the widening of online pleasures during a period when time spent staying home increased. Materials from the Ministry of Finance and elsewhere take it up as a rapidly growing form of consumption centered on the young, and lay out that, including goods, live events, and even related travel and dining, its economic reach is far from small.

Once, immersion in idols tended to be spoken of as a ‘private hobby’ carrying a hint of guilt. Now it has come to be spoken of as a positive endeavor that brings color to daily life, regardless of generation or gender. A daily life with an oshi becomes one’s power to work and one’s zest for living — those who say so are not rare. Support is consumption, and at the same time a support for the heart. Here, idol culture is shifting its center of gravity from ‘something to watch’ to ‘something to live.’

The objects one supports have also greatly widened. Not only flesh-and-blood idols and singers, but actors and voice actors, athletes, and even characters from anime and games, and existences that are not real but virtual, have come to be called ‘oshi.’ Whom, and what, one supports no longer fits within a single mold. In the very first chapter of this series, we recalled that the word idol came into use pointing to ‘the middle ground between a star and a familiar presence.’ The breadth of that middle ground has now widened beyond imagining, finding a place in each person’s heart.

Each Person Becomes a Broadcaster

Another force that supported oshikatsu was social media. Once, information about idols flowed from the top down, through limited windows such as television and magazines. Now it is different. The idols themselves broadcast their daily lives in their own words, and fans, too, can broadcast their feelings for their oshi and the moments they capture, out to the world.

This change altered the very nature of idols as well. From an icon staged in every corner by an agency, to ‘self-production,’ in which the person themselves assembles how they are shown. Scenes have increased in which the person chooses what to speak, what to show, and what self to be. While this widens the freedom of expression, it also burdens them with the weight of being constantly seen and continually judged. The power to broadcast narrows the distance with fans, and at the same time brings the peril of heartless words reaching directly. Closeness is a gift, and at the same time a trial.

To Whom Does the Icon Belong

And so the very form of the icon also became diverse. Its symbol is the existence called the VTuber. According to reporting and the industry’s own retrospectives, with Kizuna AI, who appeared in 2016, as a forerunner, related companies and activities spread from around 2018, and a new form of idol that does not pass through a flesh-and-blood body is said to have taken root. To the characters on the other side of the screen, people direct a genuine attachment and fervor.

What VTubers showed was that an idol’s appeal does not necessarily reside in a flesh-and-blood body alone. The voice, the character, the talk and the accumulation of streams give rise to a genuine presence and familiarity. It can be called an attempt to redraw, upon new technology, the ‘appeal of the bare face’ and the ‘joy of watching over growth’ that we have traced through this series. At the same time, new questions also arose, such as how to think of the relationship between the person performing and the character on the screen. The icon, and the person on its far side. How to receive that distance is something the culture to come will search out its answer to.

The question of to whom the icon belongs has also changed. Diverse idols active across the frame of gender, and fans, too, no longer bound to a particular gender or age. Who can become an idol, who can support an idol — the tacit premises of old are gradually being undone. Society’s changes around gender and diversity are clearly reflected in the mirror that is the idol as well.

A single word that came from a French film gave rise to the Big Three; television mass-produced the first idols; Seiko and Akina colored the golden age; through winter, Morning Musume showed a story of growth; idols one could go to meet narrowed the distance; the kingdom of male idols held its light and shadow; the fervor of the underground and the black ships from across the sea diversified the scene; and now, we have arrived at oshikatsu, a culture of daily life. The icon has always reflected our dreams. From here on, too, that mirror will keep changing form as it goes on lighting up someone’s every day.

What awaits beyond — that is a story you yourself, reading this, will go on to witness from here. Thank you for keeping me company on this long journey.

【The Age of Idols: Dreams Reflected in Japan’s Pop Icons — End】