Most of us know and love Godzilla as well as mecha robots, but both of these phenomena share something in common besides destroying Tokyo.

Godzilla and giant robots can actually tell us something pretty important about the history of post-World War II Japan.

[intro music] So, when we think of Godzilla, AKA The King of Monsters, we might start drawing familiar tropes in our mind.

We picture his flaming-hot atomic breath, leathery green skin, giant size, and penchant for city-smashing that could rival any wrecking ball.

Similarly, mecha robots have their own instant-recall imagery.

Whether they're running amok or saving the day, these giant robots are known for their huge size and mobility, the drama of their human pilots, and sometimes their almost human-like sentience.

But great art and inspired creativity don't occur in a vacuum.

The rise of these genres in Japanese cinema and anime in the 1950s and '60s also reflect Japanese anxieties about the threat of radiation following the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as well as the rapid industrialization of that same country in the latter half of the 20th century.

For the sake of this episode, we're going to focus on the early evolution of Godzilla and mecha robots and how their widespread popularity was mirrored in the technological shifts of post-war Japan.

But, before we get to all the fun stuff, to test our hypothesis, we should ask: "What evidence is there that Godzilla's emergence "in 1954 relates to a fear of radiation "following the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and why is this significant?"

Let's start with the tail end of World War II.

On August 6, 1945, the U.S. dropped the first-ever atomic bomb deployed in warfare on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, followed three days later by an A-bomb on Nagasaki.

The combined bombs killed an estimated 120,000 people, and tens of thousands more died later from exposure to radiation.

At noon on August 15, Emperor Hirohito announced Japan's unconditional surrender via radio broadcast, specifically citing the atomic bombs as the reasons for defeat.

He said, "Moreover, the enemy has begun to employ "a new and most cruel bomb, "the power of which to do damage "is, indeed, incalculable, "taking the toll of many innocent lives.

"Should we continue to fight it, "it would not only result in an ultimate collapse "and obliteration of the Japanese nation, "but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization."

So, by the time Ishiro Honda's original 1954 "Godzilla" premiered less than a decade later, in which an ancient monster is awakened from the depths of the sea near Japan after being exposed to radiation during atomic bomb testing, it's safe to say that the dangers of A-bombs, radiation, and atomic energy were heavy on the minds of the entire world.

But this movie echoed something very specific about Japan's post-war fears, which surrounded not only the balance of nature in the face of atomic bombs and radiation but also the balance of political power in light of the U.S.'s occupation of Japan that lasted until 1952.

During this time, the U.S. issued a moratorium on discussing their bombings during World War II, fearful that it would undermine their efforts.

After the occupation ended, artists were beginning to turn to the events of World War II and U.S. occupation as inspiration for new work.

Then, in 1954, a Japanese fishing boat named The Lucky Dragon and its entire crew were accidentally exposed to fallout radiation after the U.S. orchestrated a nuclear test in Bikini Atoll.

This real-life event inspired the opening of Honda's movie, where a boat is destroyed by the rise of Godzilla out of the sea after he's accidentally awakened by radiation.

And that's not the only instance of art imitating life.

Godzilla's thick ridged skin was also designed to reflect the keloid scars on the skin of Hiroshima survivors, who were known as the Hibakusha, or "bomb-affected person."

In some ways, Godzilla is the embodiment of both a hibakusha, who were ostracized during World War II recovery, and an A-bomb itself, which can bring immeasurable damage to mankind because he is both the destroyer and the destroyed.

Also, unlike other destructive movie monsters of that same era, he's awakened by radiation, not created from it.

So he's actually representative of the destructive power and potential lurking within mankind.

Shogo Tomiyama, producer for the franchise from 1989 to 2004, said of Godzilla's true nature: "The fact is that humans cannot control or judge the gods.

"They have their own will.

"They have their own way.

"In Japan, there are many gods.

"There is a god of destruction.

"He totally destroys everything, "and then there is rebirth.

"Something new and fresh can begin.

Godzilla is closer to being that kind of god."

So before he was duking it out with King Kong, Mothra, or any other number of spin-off foes, Godzilla was expressing a critical fear about the future of atomic energy and A-bombs, namely that, even when we weren't busy pointing them at each other, they could still have unintended, catastrophic consequences for the entire world.

Okay, so we've established that Godzilla had a lot to do with residual and well-founded fears about the future of the atomic bomb and its destructive power.

But besides giving me a chance to do the Robot on camera... badly... "How does the history of mecha robots relate to post-war Japan?"

Well, around the same time that Godzilla was trampling Tokyo, a new anime subgenre featuring robots started to gain popularity.

Starting in 1956 with the manga "Tetsujin 28-go," we begin to see a slew of mecha robots-- the word "mecha" being one used to describe this particular type of anime machine.

The types of robots vary from humanoid robots being controlled with a remote control, as was the case with "Tetsujin 28-go," to machines that are sentient and run on their own.

But if there's one concept that people think of when they think of super robots, it's the ones where the giant machines are piloted by people.

The first one that really exploded the idea of a human in the driver's seat was "Mazinger Z" in 1972.

Unlike Ishiro Honda, who spent his adulthood living in the wake of World War II destruction and U.S. occupation, "Mazinger Z"'s creator Go Nagai came of age in a changing Japan.

Born one month after the atomic bombs were dropped and four days after Japanese surrender, Nagai's childhood was shaped by the aftermath of war, but his adolescence and early adulthood were shaped by Japan's rapid growth and industrialization.

Manufacturing cities like Hiroshima and Tokyo that were destroyed during the devastation of World War II were being rapidly rebuilt, updated, and expanded in the post-war era.

Think about it-- in 1945, the majority of Tokyo lay in shambles.

But by 1964, Tokyo was on the world stage again as a shining example of industrial progress by hosting the Olympic Games.

That's less than 20 years for an entire city to be rebuilt from the ground up.

And the industrial growth of Japan was kind of crazy.

By the time Go Nagai created "Mozinger Z" in 1972, Japan had already become a force to be reckoned with in the car-manufacturing industry.

In 1950, Japan produced 31,597 cars total, which equaled the number of cars produced in the U.S. in a single day.

By the late 1960s, Toyota and Nissan had either matched or surpassed the productivity levels of their American competitors.

And, while Nagai drew inspiration from other artists who featured remote-control robots in their work, that explosion of Japanese cars mattered.

Speaking of his inspiration for his man-driven robot, he said, "One day, I was driving along "the streets of Tokyo in the middle of a traffic jam.

"An idea clicked, and I started to imagine "that my car generated arms and legs "to pass all the other cars.

"I returned to my studio and started to draw and design the first prototypes for Mazinger."

And it was "Mazinger Z" that really set up a lot of the conventions of the genre, and its popularity was explosive.

It started as a manga, but was quickly picked up and put on TV.

By March of 1974, 30% of Japanese TV watchers tuned in to watch episode 68 and to see the birth of the great Mazinger.

It was one of the highest rated animes of all time.

And like the Japanese cars that inspired it, "Mazinger Z" spread all over the world.

It was popular in Spain.

It was very popular the Philippines until it was ordered off the air by the dictator/ president Ferdinand Marcos.

It was aired in the U.S. as "Tranzor Z," and it was intensely popular in Mexico in the 1980s, and was even cited by Guillermo del Toro as part of his inspiration for "Pacific Rim," which is probably why Go Nagai said, "I believe anime has helped the world "discover the soul of the Japanese and their culture more than anything else."

And while that may or may not be true, the soul of 1970s Japan, brimming with a technology-driven future, was clearly very different than the soul of the 1950s war-ravaged Japan heavy with the dread of the atomic world.

So, how does it all add up?

Well, we start with a giant, awakened dino-monster that breathes atomic breath on Japan, echoing the post-World War II fears surrounding the rapid expansion of A-bombs worldwide.

We saw that this fear wasn't only centered on past destruction, but also deeply concerned with the potential for future atomic mishaps, whether intentional or unintentional.

Then, around the same time, we get big, people-driven robots that reflect Japan's rapid post-war expansion, rebuilding, and industrialization.

So, while Godzilla was the embodiment of apocalyptic fears, mecha robots came on the scene as symbols of rebuilding and the potential for growth.

But, no matter how you look at it, Godzilla and mecha robots are pretty cool.

Accessibility provided by the U.S. Department of Education.

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