Living as a Cyborg: Posthuman Imagery as Representations of Transcending Boundaries, Metaphors for Societal Challenges and Shaping Our Existence

The term “cyborg,” a fusion of “cybernetics” and “organism,” was first introduced by American scientists Manfred Clynes and Nathan Kline. They envisioned the cyborg as a beacon of human evolution, capable of thriving beyond Earth's boundaries. This concept posited that through scientific and technological advancements, significant modifications of human bodily structures could enable adaptation to extreme environments, such as other planets. Building upon these thoughts, Donna Haraway expanded the cyborg concept from its science fiction roots to a potent tool for challenging traditional Western philosophical thought. In her seminal work, Haraway asserts that “The cyborg is a fiction mapping our social and bodily reality.” (Haraway, 149) In A Cyborg Manifesto, Haraway identified three important “boundary break-downs” in 20th-century science, which broke different binary perceptions. They are transgressions of boundaries between humans and animals, humans and machines, and bodies and non-bodies, which challenge the long-held binary oppositions that have been foundational to Western thought — mind versus body, soul versus body, spirit versus matter. These dichotomies become increasingly tenuous under such scrutiny. Relating to the above, this essay explores the nature of transcending boundaries through posthuman cyborg imageries depicted in Godzilla (1954), Ghost in the Shell (1995), Astro Boy (1952 to 1968), and Ruojin Z (1991) and how they are shedding light on the potential societal issues, human desires, and gender binary problems, further challenging the anthropocentric thinking and how these narratives serve as metaphors for our existence in the twenty-first century.

First, posthuman imageries can be seen as representations of transcending boundaries between humans and technology, which are shown as metaphors for the memory of national traumas in the past. Gojira and Astro Boy are two posthuman imageries created by the Japanese, closely related to nuclear power, representing a central traumatic memory of war in Japan. During World War II, Japan endured the unprecedented horror of nuclear warfare, becoming the first and only nation to be attacked with nuclear weapons. The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the United States resulted in massive civilian casualties, casting a long-lasting shadow over the Japanese psyche. 

Astro Boy, or Tetsuwan Atom, created in 1951 by Osamu Tezuka, emerged just six years after World War II. He has the outlook of a child and has his consciousness, powered by nuclear energy. Astro Boy owns autonomy, including independent thinking and decision-making abilities. This figure clearly shows a cyborg that transcends the boundaries of technology and humans. His narrative, marked by moral complexities and struggles inherent to his atomic nature, reflects the ongoing societal dilemmas around nuclear technology. Astro Boy symbolizes not only the futuristic aspirations of post-war Japan but also serves as a poignant reminder of war's enduring scars. Navigating a world still haunted by atomic warfare, he offers a nuanced perspective on a nation striving to balance the promises of a new technological era with the imperative to remember and learn from past tragedies.

Godzilla is a relatively unconventional example. This figure is a direct consequence of human technological experimentation and can be metaphorically seen as a medium of the transcendence of boundaries between humans and technology. The destruction caused by Godzilla is paralleling the catastrophe caused by nuclear warfare, with its portrayal of ruined buildings and the profound grief of families, particularly children, mourning their lost loved ones. The film's release in 1954 coincided with heightened public concern about nuclear weapons in Japan, especially following an incident where a Japanese fishing boat was affected by a U.S. hydrogen bomb test, leading to further fatalities. Godzilla thus becomes a vivid metaphor for nuclear warfare and its traumatic impact on the Japanese people, symbolizing the deep-seated pain and fear associated with such weaponry. 

Semiotician Algirdas Julien Greimas’ concept of binary oppositions as a semantic matrix, as explained in Structural Semantics, provides a framework to interpret the deep-seated meanings in Godzilla. The film juxtaposes the sufferings of Godzilla and the Japanese people, portraying them as two facets of the same reality. The contrast between the despair in disaster and the serenity of peace signifies Godzilla’s antagonistic relationship with the survival of the Japanese populace. This opposition, rooted in the metaphor of Godzilla as a monstrous embodiment of nuclear war, suggests a deep-seated reflection on the consequences of war and a rejection of nuclear weaponization. The film, therefore, constructs a narrative that confronts the repercussions of nuclear technology misuse and the scars of war, emphasizing the value of peace. Through these thematic oppositions, Gozilla as a metaphor articulates a profound message against war and in favor of cherishing peace.

Secondly, we can see posthuman imageries transcending boundaries between humans and technology, exploring the ethical issues regarding the desires of human beings. 

In an interview, Osamu Tezuka expresses that: “Astro Boy’s theme is also about how science and technology represented by robotics can lead human nature to the negative side, and how technology out of control can cause social conflicts.” In Astro Boy, a specific type of cyborg is depicted with low intelligence and highly controllable, making them the extensions of their master's technical and behavioral capabilities. For example, in the “Franken” episode, before its final configurations were completed, the robot Franken escaped from the Ministry of Science. Possessing immense power but lacking the ability to discern right from wrong, Franken is programmed to recognize and obey the first human it encounters as its master. During its escape, Franken encountered a group of bank robbers and, interpreting their actions as commands, assisted them in breaking into the vault. From it, we can see that humans developed technology to serve people, but in the end, they used it to harm the order in society. Thus, this posthuman imagery of Franken sheds light on the amplification of human nature's selfish desires, where the greedy become greedier, and the malevolent more evil. Humans, initially seeking to manipulate these technologies for economic gain or political power, ultimately find themselves ensnared by the very technology they sought to control, tumbling into a chasm of unchecked desires. In this way, Osamu Tezuka puts the contradictions and paradoxes of modern people caused by the development of science and technology into the future time and space to display and provide early warning. 

In Ruojin Z, the narrative employs posthuman imagery through an automated caregiving robot, symbolic of the eroding boundary between humans and technology. This robot, designed to assist an elderly man, represents a fusion of the human body with technological advancement. Equipped to anticipate and cater to the old man's every need, the machine can even articulate his thoughts, symbolizing a deep integration of human and machine. This innovation, a joint venture between the Ministry of Health and Welfare and a technologically advanced company, employs sophisticated computing to deliver meticulous care for the elderly. 

However, the implementation of this technology fails to consider the individual needs and preferences of the elderly genuinely. Ostensibly created under the benevolent guise of the Ministry’s initiatives, these efforts mask a more self-serving agenda. The primary motive appears to be the enhancement of the Ministry's public image, rather than a true commitment to the well-being of the elderly. This situation mirrors a broader theme of human greed and self-interest, where the guise of welfare and care is often leveraged for reputation building and the pursuit of hidden agendas.

Moreover, the narrative in Roujin Z reflects a societal tendency to rely on technology as a universal solution, even in intimate and personal aspects such as relationships with the elderly. This overreliance on technology reveals a disconnect in human values, where personal interactions and genuine care are overshadowed by the allure of technological fixes. The utilization of such advanced technology in this manner reflects not just a disregard for the genuine needs of the elderly, but also a larger commentary on how modern society often seeks technological solutions for problems that are fundamentally human and relational. This showcases how human desire for efficiency and control can often lead to the neglect of essential human connections and the ethical use of technology for true humanitarian benefit.

In addition, posthuman imagery, blurring the lines between humans and technology, also seeks to dismantle the traditional binary dichotomy between male and female. In the opening sequence of Ghost in the Shell, we are introduced to Kusanagi, a pivotal character affiliated with Public Security Section 9 of the intelligence agency. She is primarily a cyborg, with the majority of her body, including her limbs, being replaced by advanced prosthetic and mechanical components. This transformation grants her exceptional abilities, central to her role in the story. Only a small portion of her original brain remains. This raises complex questions about her identity: Is Kusanagi still human because of that small remnant of her brain? Would replacing this last piece of organic matter entirely with technology negate her humanity? And at what point, if any, does she stop being human as her biological components are substituted? These questions, central to Kusanagi's character, highlight the ambiguity and complexity of defining humanity in a world where the lines between biological and artificial are increasingly blurred.

The birth scene of Kusanagi begins with a montage. In this montage, electronics, prosthetics, and muscle tissue are assembled with precision. A human-like body then slowly rose up and passed through a tunnel filled with liquid. Judging from the background, this corridor may be made of steel or glass. Kusanagi’s slow passage through the corridor seems to be a metaphor for human production. The difference is that human babies are delivered from the mother's birth canal, while Kusanagi was born from the “birth canal” of steel and glass. What passes through this “birth canal” is not a flesh and blood body, but a mixture of machinery, electronic equipment, and organisms — cyborgs. We often use the source to determine life, which is why from ancient times to the present, the scene of production is often sacred: because production symbolizes the birth of new life. The birth of Kusanagi in this way seemed quite ironic. Her cyborg body is so familiar yet strange, in a way that is familiar to us, yet delivered like a “monster”. 

Regarding the gender problem, Donna Haraway, in her seminal work, articulates a vision of the cyborg that fundamentally challenges traditional gender norms, as she states, “The cyborg would not recognize the Garden of Eden: it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust.”(Haraway, 151) This perspective suggests that cyborgs, unbound by the constraints of nature and culture, represent a departure from conventional gender roles. The cyborg, in Haraway's view, is liberated from the historical chains that bind women, especially those associated with reproductive and domestic responsibilities. 

In Ghost in the Shell, this concept is personified through the character of Major Motoko Kusanagi, a cyborg who embodies a blend of both femininity and masculinity, challenging traditional gender identities. Kusanagi, being a cyborg, is detached from the biological aspects of womanhood, such as childbirth, which historically have been used to confine women to domestic roles. Her existence questions the very nature of femininity and the societal expectations built around it. Haraway’s idea is further exemplified when Kusanagi, in a moment of existential reflection, ponders about her own identity and humanity, echoing Haraway’s notion that cyborgs are unburdened by conventional definitions of self and gender.

Also, a notable method for deconstructing the traditional male-female binary dichotomy is through the implementation of a bi-directional, mirroring gaze. This concept aligns with Haraway's notion, where she discusses the shift from Freud's focus on sexual reproduction to Lacan's emphasis on replication: “Lacan replaces Freud, Replication replaces Reproduction.” (Haraway, 13) This shift is evident in a scene where Kusanagi, discussing the homogeneity of cyborgs, remarks on their uniformity, reflecting the era’s preference for replication over sexual reproduction. This homogeneity negates the traditional ‘male gaze’ and ‘female gaze,’ leading to a scenario where the gaze becomes self-reflective, a concept mirrored in the interaction between Puppet Master and Kusanagi. When Kusanagi inquires why Puppet Master seeks her out, he highlights their similarity, suggesting a self-mirroring identity. This idea is visually represented in the film, reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman’s Persona, where overlapping images signify a merging of identities. Furthermore, Kusanagi's contemplation in front of a mirror exemplifies this concept. Haraway’s citation of Lacan suggests a move away from viewing the gaze as a binary dynamic, instead proposing an inner unity between the observer and the observed, thus challenging the traditional gender binary.

Moreover, posthuman imageries are breaking the boundary of body and non-body, raising ultimate philosophical questions about humanity and free will. Haraway observed that the advent of microelectronics has led to a transformation in how we perceive technology, with devices becoming increasingly inconspicuous. As she notes, “Miniaturization has changed our experience of machinery.”(Haraway, 153) Modern technologies like Bluetooth and wireless networks challenge our traditional understanding of the physicality of machines. Devices such as compact hearing aids, pacemakers, microchips, and others are becoming more prevalent and less noticeable. This shift is blurring the once clear demarcation between the body and external devices, integrating these technologies into our very selves. Consequently, the boundary between technology and biology is increasingly ambiguous. Many of us are, in effect, becoming cyborgs, symbiotically merging with machines, and transforming our bodies into hosts for technological entities. Also, in How We Became Posthuman, Katherine Hayles mentioned that, for the posthuman state, information patterns are more important than physical forms. Human biological bodies are nothing more than a historical accident, not a condition of life. (Hayles, 291) 

In the last scene of Ghost in the Shell, Kusanagi confronts the Puppet Master, set within the intriguing backdrop of an abandoned natural history museum. This place traditionally highlights the distinctions between humans and other animals, showcasing the capability of using tools, cognitive abilities, and reasoning as markers of our species’ supremacy. The museums often dedicated entire sections to narrating humanity's ascent to the apex of nature. Thus, the selection of an abandoned museum for this showdown subtly hints at the eventual discarding of the traditional narratives centering on humanity.

In the article “Unfinished Work: From the Cyborg to the ‘Cognitive Field,’” Hayes introduces the concept of the “cognisphere,” a term derived from “cognition” and “sphere,” to describe a posthuman world that transcends individuals and emphasizes systemic interconnectedness. This world is not made up of isolated organisms but is a complex, evolving system where the “cognitive field” represents the dynamic flow of consciousness shared among humans, animals, and machines. This idea aligns with posthumanism, deeply embedded within the information system. (Hayes, 162)

In Ghost in the Shell, Kusanagi combats electronic criminals and pursues the enigmatic hacker known as the Puppet Master with her team. This hacker uniquely infiltrates and manipulates the memories of other robots. Kusanagi’s investigation leads her to discover that the Puppet Master is a digital program that has developed self-awareness. This revelation prompts her to question her own humanity as a cyborg. The narrative reaches a climax when Motoko merges with the Puppet Master in the virtual realm, transforming her consciousness into a fluid entity within the cognitive field. This fusion raises profound questions about identity and the nature of self, particularly for Kusanagi, who grapples with the fear of losing her sense of self and memory that are grounded in human cognition.

The Puppet Master, a being born from the vast expanse of information, blurring the boundary of body and non-body, challenges traditional notions of existence and consciousness, suggesting that human DNA, like any program code. Kusanagi’s existential crisis, rooted in human ontological thought, centers on the question of self-identity and the extent to which she can be considered herself. Unlike ordinary humans, Kusanagi is not constrained by traditional social constructs, making her a symbol of resistance against established human social structures. However, her human-like brain and nervous system, designed to emulate human functions, evoke the dilemma of whether a fully mechanical and automated cyborg can possess true freedom.

The integration of the Puppet Master, a self-aware entity born from information, with an artificial brain, poses radical questions about the nature of free will and the boundaries of its existence. As individual consciousness becomes part of a larger system within a specific cognitive field, the narrative further explores whether the fusion of living and non-living entities can transcend ontological limitations and approach a state of absolute freedom.

In conclusion, the posthuman imageries represent transcendences of boundaries between humans and technology, shedding light on history traumas, human nature of desires, gender duality problems, and decentering humans. Also, they challenge the boundary between body and non-body, showing the extreme fluidity in cyborgs, and questioning ontological questions and free will identities. 

Posthumanism seeks to depict a vast, interconnected information network extending across boundless time and space. Within this realm, the lines between consciousness and the subconscious blur, as they coalesce and adapt through self-evolving political, social, and cultural constructs. In this evolving landscape, traditional distinctions between subject and object, soul and body, human and cyborg, are progressively fading away, reflecting a world where these binaries merge and redefine each other. Concepts such as the organisms, dualism, and boundaries are all brought into focus by these posthuman imageries, they are metaphors for us in the 21st century. When technology develops to such an extent that many of the cognitions we rely on for survival are blurred, how should we continue to survive in this uncertainty? In the case of the A Cyborg Manifesto, it seems that the best way is to accept this chaos and stop clinging to a single, homogeneous “I” identity. We are all cyborgs. The cyborg’s body has no boundaries. It flows, changes, is crushed, and is reborn from mud and ashes. For Haraway, this flow constitutes our way of existence: “By the late twentieth century, our time, a mythic time, we are all chimeras, theorized and fabricated hybrids of machine and organism; in short, we are cyborgs. Ths cyborg is our ontology; it gives us our politics.” (Haraway, 150)

Bibliography 

Haraway, Donna Jeanne. “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century.” Essay. In Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature, 149–181. New York: Routledge, 2015. 

Hayles, N. Katherine, and Katherine Hayles. 1999. How We Became Posthuman. https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226321394.001.0001.

Manfred E. Clynes, and Nathan S. Kline. September 1990. Cyborgs and Space. http://web.mit.edu/digitalapollo/Documents/Chapter1/cyborgs.pdf. 

Hayles, N. K. (2006). Unfinished Work: From Cyborg to Cognisphere. Theory, Culture & Society, 23(7-8), 159-166. https://doi.org/10.1177/0263276406069229