Why Did the Original Space Battleship Yamato Send the Real-Life Battleship Yamato into Space?
An Analysis Based on the “Yamato-Style Salute” and the Differences Between Leiji Matsumoto and Yoshinobu Nishizaki
by Maharu Okuma
Certified Psychologist / Photographer / Student at the University of the Arts, Tokyo / Person with a mental disability
See the original post here
While re-watching the original Space Battleship Yamato TV series, two things struck me anew.
The first is the distinctive salute performed by the crew members: clenching the right hand into a fist and placing it against the left chest, what might be termed the “Yamato-style salute.”
The second is the fundamental question of why the ship was designed the way it was. Specifically, why it was established in the story as a vessel created by retrofitting the real-life Battleship Yamato (which sank during the Pacific War), rather than as a completely brand-new spacecraft.
If one were to consider only engineering rationality, it would seem far more natural to construct a brand-new vessel from scratch, given that they were utilizing unknown technologies to build a space battleship. Yet, the series deliberately chooses to resurrect the old Battleship Yamato from its resting place on the ocean floor. This was not merely a choice regarding mechanical design. It was, in all likelihood, a choice deeply intertwined with the very philosophy of the work itself.
Furthermore, I suspect that the specific significance attributed to this choice may have differed slightly between Yoshinobu Nishizaki and Leiji Matsumoto.
The “Yamato-Style Salute”: Distinct from the Salutes of the Real-Life Navy and Maritime Self-Defense Force
First, let’s examine the salute. The gesture frequently observed in the original series, placing a clenched right fist against the left chest, does not correspond to the standard hand salute practiced by the former Imperial Japanese Navy or the modern Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF).
The salutes of both the former Navy and the JMSDF are, fundamentally, standard hand salutes (raising the hand to the temple). While there may be variations in angle or execution, they do not follow the specific form seen in the original Yamato series, that of placing a clenched right fist against the left chest.
In other words, it is most reasonable to conclude that this particular salute is not a reproduction of any actual military protocol, but rather a unique gesture created specifically for the fictional world of the series. Regarding this point, it is said that Leiji Matsumoto once remarked that, when devising the Yamato salute, he drew inspiration from expressions of “oath-taking” he had observed in various international films. Rather than strictly importing rigid military protocol exactly as it exists, it is best understood that he crafted a salute that, while retaining a distinct “military flavor,” avoided directly evoking any specific, real-world armed force.
The historical context of 1974 likely played a significant role here as well. Less than thirty years had passed since the end of the war, and memories of the Pacific War remained vivid among the older generation, the parents of the show’s target audience. Given that they had chosen the battleship Yamato as their subject matter, I suspect the creators of Space Battleship Yamato were deeply concerned that their work might be perceived as glorifying war or promoting militarism.
Consequently, their decision not to replicate the ceremonial protocols of the old military exactly as they were was likely a highly deliberate choice. While featuring a starship that clearly evokes the old Imperial Japanese Navy, they intentionally gave the salute, one of the most visually prominent gestures, a distinct form of its own. This approach conveys a sense of carefully maintained distance: the message that, while this is indeed Yamato, it is “not the old military itself.”
Dr. Sado Rarely Salutes, Yet Offers a Navy-Style Salute in the Finale
When considering this “Yamato-style salute,” the character of Dr. Sakezo Sado is of particular importance.
Although he serves as the ship’s physician, Dr. Sado is portrayed as a free-spirited sake lover, a character who stands slightly apart from strict military discipline and formalities. At least in Episode 3, which I specifically verified, he did not perform the standard Yamato salute as the other crew members did. This feels entirely natural. It effectively illustrates that Dr. Sado is a member of the military, yet a man who does not operate strictly according to military logic.
However, in the series finale, Episode 26, Dr. Sado is seen performing a standard, hand-to-brow Navy-style salute. This single detail carries immense weight.
A man who typically keeps his distance from military ceremony chooses, at the very moment of Captain Okita’s passing, to offer the most orthodox and solemn form of salute imaginable. Rather than simply dismissing this as a mere inconsistency in the artwork, one is tempted to view it as a deliberate exception.
Throughout the entirety of the first series, the production maintains a certain distance from the historical military, specifically the Imperial Japanese Forces, by employing a unique “Yamato style” of its own; yet, at the very last moment, Dr. Sado performs a traditional Navy-style salute. It seems to me that this gesture encapsulates the utmost respect and mourning for Captain Juzo Okita.
Why the “Battleship Yamato,” rather than a newly constructed spacecraft?
Here, let’s return to the main topic. Fundamentally, why did Space Battleship Yamato choose a premise involving the deliberate modification of the sunken Battleship Yamato, rather than creating a brand-new spacecraft utilizing unknown technologies?
At this juncture, I suspect that Yoshinobu Nishizaki and Leiji Matsumoto may have perceived two entirely different things within that same name: “Yamato.”
Did Yoshinobu Nishizaki see its strength as a commercial concept? From Yoshinobu Nishizaki’s perspective, I believe the primary motivation lay in the sheer strength of the project as a commercial concept.
Yamato, that colossal battleship which actually sank during the Pacific War, is resurrected in the future, exactly as it was, to soar through the cosmos. While this premise is, strictly speaking, quite far-fetched, that very audacity makes it unforgettable once heard. It possesses an overwhelming impact, one that a brand-new, purpose-built spaceship could never hope to generate.
In other words, I suspect Nishizaki saw in Yamato a powerful hook, a device capable of defining the very first impression of the work itself. While one should not simply dismiss this as mere commercialism, it is certainly reasonable to conclude that he was exercising a keen instinct for crafting a concept that captivates an audience.
Did Leiji Matsumoto Intend to Tell a Story About “Bringing Home the Ship That Never Returned”?
On the other hand, I believe that what Leiji Matsumoto saw in that same Yamato was something slightly different.
Matsumoto reportedly articulated the core message he wished to convey through Yamato as follows: the ship flies to save the Earth, and it flies to live. Its flight is undertaken for the sake of survival, not for the sake of death. The crucial point here is that, for Matsumoto, Yamato was not merely a symbol of war. Rather, it served as a vessel, a medium through which the ship that had failed to return could be transformed into a ship that, this time, would make it home.
The actual battleship Yamato of the Pacific War era set sail on a mission carrying only enough fuel for a one-way journey, with no expectation, or even possibility, of return. It was precisely because of Leiji Matsumoto’s profound and poignant sentiments regarding this historical reality that Space Battleship Yamato evolved into something far more than just a story about a powerful warship fighting in space; it became the saga of a ship that, above all else, must return home.
Herein, I believe, lies the true significance of utilizing the actual battleship Yamato. A brand-new, purpose-built spaceship could never have achieved this profound transformation. It is precisely because it was Yamato, the ship that once failed to return, that there was such deep meaning in bringing it home this time.
Yamato Was Not a Glorification of War, But a Story of Transforming a “Ship of Death” into a “Ship of Life”
Once one grasps this fundamental point, it becomes clear that dismissing Space Battleship Yamato simply as “a work created for people who love war” is a rather crude and reductive interpretation. At least as far as Leiji Matsumoto’s own philosophy was concerned, this surely was not the case.
Matsumoto repeatedly articulated the belief that human beings are born to live, not to die. In that sense, it is far more consistent with Matsumoto’s own words to view the message embedded in Yamato not as the kamikaze spirit of rushing toward death, but rather as the philosophy of “returning alive,” a concept that stands in direct opposition to it.
Thus, the decision to base Space Battleship Yamato on the actual Yamato was not merely an attempt to import a symbol of the old Imperial military.
For Yoshinobu Nishizaki, it was likely, first and foremost, an exceptionally powerful concept from a commercial planning perspective. For Leiji Matsumoto, however, it likely served as a narrative device, a means to finally bring home the ship that had never returned.
Their individual motivations may not have been identical. Yet, on one specific point, they were in perfect agreement: the idea of converting the battleship Yamato and launching it into space. And it is precisely because of this shared vision that Space Battleship Yamato evolved into that unique masterpiece, a work that is neither a mere eccentric sci-fi romp nor simply a romanticized war chronicle.
Nevertheless, Misconceptions of Militarism and War Glorification Persist
Having written this far, however, I am still left with a lingering thought.
No matter how meticulously the creators of Space Battleship Yamato, Leiji Matsumoto and his staff, strove to avoid any perception of glorifying war or promoting militarism, is it not inevitable that such misconceptions would arise among the audience?
Indeed, Space Battleship Yamato is replete with elements that inevitably evoke memories of the old Imperial military and of war: the name Battleship Yamato itself, a military-style organizational structure, uniforms, a captain, salutes, combat, and acts of self-sacrifice.
Regardless of the creators’ true intentions, the fact that some viewers perceive the work as “militaristic” or as a “glorification of war” may, in a certain sense, be an unavoidable consequence. Even I, personally, did not fully grasp during my childhood the sentiments of requiem embedded within Space Battleship Yamato, nor the specific desire held by Leiji Matsumoto: “I want to transform the ship that could not return into a ship that, this time, does return.”
To be honest, for me, a child at the time the TV series first aired, Space Battleship Yamato was, first and foremost, a thrilling tale of adventure. The weighty themes presumably woven into the narrative, such as the act of mourning the dead or the subversion of wartime memories, were concepts I simply did not comprehend back then.
Now, more than 80 years after the end of the war, have we truly grasped the sentiments of Leiji Matsumoto?
That is precisely why I believe that we, living in a world now more than 80 years removed from the war and 50 years since the TV series first aired, must ask ourselves this question once again. Have we truly come to share the sentiments that Leiji Matsumoto entrusted to Yamato?
To some viewers, Space Battleship Yamato may still appear to be militaristic or even glorifying of war.
Such a misunderstanding is, perhaps, entirely unavoidable.
Yet, for that very reason, we must not view it merely as a story about “a cool battleship flying through space.” Rather, we must repeatedly reflect upon why it had to be the Battleship Yamato, and why it had to be transformed into “a ship that returns.”
When viewed in that light, Space Battleship Yamato is far more than just a nostalgic anime classic.
I believe it is a work that, with every viewing, puts us, the audience, to the test. The very fact that I am now, as an adult, reflecting in this manner upon Space Battleship Yamato, a series I watched as a child with nothing but wide-eyed excitement, may itself be proof that this work remains alive and relevant, even half a century later.