I hadn’t watched the entirety of Avatar: The Last Airbender until this past summer, when Netflix released it in May of 2020. The show, created by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, originally ran from 2005 to 2008 on Nickelodeon. The popularity of the show led to comic books, a spinoff series, many memes, and a feature film everyone seemingly wants to forget.
Somehow, I avoided the large majority of all this for fifteen years. After finishing all sixty-one chapters, I couldn’t help but fall in love with the series. I’m far from being alone. As anyone who has watched the show knows, it’s essentially perfect.
Avatar manages to include and showcase a history that spans hundreds of years. It does all this while at the same time wrapping up the gist of the show in its iconic intro:
“Long ago the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.”
I found it almost impossible not to compare and relate many of the politics of the show with our current world. While Avatar presents itself as a kid’s show, it also has no fear diving into more mature themes. Themes such as genocide, inequality, and the devastating effects that war has on individuals and communities. Avatar is about the joys of friendship, and the importance of family. And it’s also about the immense pressures the world places on children, and how they cope and navigate through the perils of a world immersed in chaos.
Japanese animation, which heavily influenced Avatar, has a history of basing its content material as a reaction to world events. Avatar could be seen as a reaction to United States military actions post-9/11, just as a number of anime series draw from the real-life psychological toll many Japanese civilians felt in the fallout of nuclear annihilation, such as Neon Genesis Evangelion and Akira. What’s striking in all of these shows, is the fact that kids are the main characters. The creators of these shows do not shy away from the idea that our society tends to place a massive burden on the lives of the young. The past is always present for those who grew up in the aftermath of tragedy.
Aang did not voluntarily choose to have the burden of being the world’s savior placed upon him. If it were up to Aang, he’d rather be traveling the world to meet up with friends so they could all go penguin sledding, or play airball at the Southern Air Temple. Aang’s endless pursuit of joy is one of the best features of the show. It’s a reminder that joy is revolutionary too, no matter how old one is. To laugh, to play, to just be with friends. These acts remain necessary, even when one takes on a world filled with so much destruction.
In contrast to Aang, Zuko’s past leads him to mostly abandon the pursuit of experiencing joy. Instead, he solely focuses on a path towards redemption. At least what he believes redemption to be: Finding and capturing the Avatar, thus restoring his honor. He essentially accomplishes this goal, but finds that the return of his honor in the eyes of his father does not bring him the inner happiness he had hoped for.
Watching Zuko, I couldn’t help but think about my own career path, and how so many young people approach adulthood. As a Kinesiology major at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, I struggled during my time in college, not with academics necessarily, but with finding joy in what I studied. I had a path, but it didn’t align with what made me come alive as a human. His arc is a reminder that we so often tend to put more energy into achieving an idea of what we think happiness is, versus really examining what brings us fulfillment, and following that path instead.
Zuko’s arc also reminds us that you can’t take on the world by yourself, no matter how much strength one has. It requires true strength to realize you need to open yourself up to your vulnerabilities if you ever want to change. “There is nothing wrong with letting people who love you, help you”, says Uncle Iroh.
Iroh says this to Toph while sharing tea together. It’s one of my favorite scenes in the show. Their meeting happens by chance, and also feels like destiny. Toph, accustomed to a life of solitude, feels done trying to work with Aang, Katara, and Sokka. Iroh is watching over Zuko, who similarly only wants to do things on his own. Together, they break bread, and help the other one gain a new perspective on their respective obstacles. Even though they have just met each other, even though Iroh is much older, and even though Toph cannot even see Iroh, they connect and bond. “Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights”, quips Iroh right before they depart.
As I write this in February of 2021, Covid-19 rages on in the United States. Society has drastically changed. Human connection feels so rare and valuable. I miss having the opportunity to bump into a stranger and share tea with them. Everyday, I wonder when that opportunity will feel safe again. When we solely interact over video chats or social media, I sometimes forget that I am actually sharing an experience with another human. One with history, memories, fears, and complexities as deep as my own. Now I only see what lies on the surface, which leaves me with an incomplete picture of those around me.
Avatar disintegrates the good/evil binary that so many shows rely on. People act in ways and hold beliefs not because they are moral creatures, or because they are immoral ones, but more so because of the way the world has acted on them. People whose personality and actions all relate to the ways in which their own communities have taught them to behave. Many go about their lives without giving a thought to the ways in which society and history have impacted their entire worldview.
We see this when Aang becomes a student at a Fire Nation school. Here, the kids take an oath to the nation every morning. Not doing so would be an insult. The students learn that their people have fought wars with the other nations not because of conquest or imperialism, but because of their desire to spread the joys of “civilization” to the rest of the world. The teachers preach an incomplete and inaccurate history, one that paints the Fire Nation as benevolent rulers instead of how the rest of the world sees them: Warmongering invaders.
We also see how kids from other parts of the world react to the chaos of war. Jet, who witnessed the Fire Nation murder his parents, forms a group known as the Freedom Fighters. They ambush, raid, and sabotage Fire Nation villages and military groups. Suki, before joining team Avatar, acts as leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, whose main task is to protect the Island of Kyoshi from outside attackers. Sokka and Katara also act as the main protectors of the Southern Water Tribe since their dad is off fighting in the war.
These kids exist in our own world whether we want to think about it or not. Kids who both just want to play soccer with their friends while at the same time live under the fear that their families could be drone bombed at any moment. Whose childhoods contain sweet and fun memories as well as memories of tanks and fighter jets. Kids who in one moment play with toy guns in a neighborhood park, only to be confronted by real guns handled by the police one moment later. These kids exist. And we sometimes forget who is on the other side holding the gun. We forget why we are holding guns in the first place because it has been taught that freedom is the reason. I doubt these kids felt free.
While Avatar contains devastating themes, it remains a show about love, friendship, and hope. I experienced the full spectrum of my emotions while watching the show. As I sat in my room night after night, enduring the isolation of quarantine, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of childlike nostalgia for travel and time spent with friends watching Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph journey across the world. I yearn to be able to go on journeys and adventures with friends. To walk under unknown skies and breath in new atmospheres. I have seen these places through a screen, and now I desire to immerse myself once again in the unfamiliar.
Team Avatar, with plenty of help from friends made along the journey, prevail. Aang defeats Firelored Ozai without killing him. Zuko and Katara defeat the highly manipulative Azula, not with power, but with sacrifice, intuition, and resourcefulness. Sokka, Toph, and Suki work together to take down a legion of Fire Nation airships. Uncle Iroh, along with the White Lotus, retakes and liberates Ba Sing Se. Although these battles and acts of heroism remain significant, the final shot of the show, which shows Aang and Katara embracing each other in an elongated kiss, displays something more important. Not power, nor perfection, but love.
Watching Avatar gives me hope. It gives me hope that someday, we no longer will be constrained to believe outdated models of thought. It gives me hope for a future that doesn’t hinge on a nation caring more for its military than for its marginalized communities, who face oppression every single day. Hope of the possibility that we will someday value compassion, mutual aid, and kindness over power and control. As Avatar makes clear, we do not get to choose when we enter this world, but we do get to choose how we act from that point on. We get to decide whether we want to move to a place beyond our current standing. But it can’t be done alone. We can alter the future, as well as support one another to face the enormous pressures of today, and that is what it means to save the world.
Extremely poignant piece, Ryan. Loved the conclusion and the words of advice to anyone looking to make a change in the world or even just further appreciate/understand the society we live in. Avatar was a great show back then and has become a classic – not only for its entertainment value, but also for its moral conversations. Thanks for taking the time to write your reflection.