By now, we’re all well aware of the effect that the response to COVID-19 has had on the convention scene.
For a specific example, April and May of 2020 were the first two months in many years to play host to zero conventions.
Tokyo Attack, which brought Japanese arcade machines to many conventions across the US, shut down, in the wake of several months of being unable to run their business.
Meanwhile, the few conventions that do hold events are vilified as being irresponsible for it. And before that, many events were criticized for waiting until the last minute to cancel, though this was often a contractual obligation.
Everyone has an opinion on the pandemic, but few are talking about what long-term effects lockdowns and restrictions could have on convention culture and the subculture as a whole.
People have made do with online conventions, to mixed results. The major shows have been criticized for their presentation, and while fan-run online conventions are fun for many, there are elements of convention culture that are impossible to replicate over the internet.
Though the desire to keep people safe by keeping them away from each other is strong, face-to-face interaction is important to the subculture and shouldn’t be dismissed lightly. The idea of cosplayers posing for real photoshoots, panelists presenting to real audiences, and fans showing love for other real fans might seem frivolous to some of us now, but there are people in the subculture for whom these activities are pivotal for mental health.
Just as we understand that some of us are introverts and some of us are extroverts, we should understand that some of us are more cut out for extended periods of social isolation than others. Not only that but, as I’m sure many have experienced, interaction within the subculture takes on negative qualities much more often when it only occurs online.
It’s a perfect storm that leads to extremely negative social consequences. A culture of social pressure has risen up in the fandom, manifesting in different ways than we’re used to. Texas convention Anime Dallas was hit with criticism for deciding to hold their December 2020 event, even though they went above and beyond Texas requirements for events.
Beyond criticism of the con, some took it even further and published lists of cosplayers and vendors who were in attendance to social media.
As human beings, we’re wired to avoid things that lead to social ostracism. Thus, for people who want to influence other people’s behaviour, social pressure can be a tempting tool to use. It’s important, however, not to implement social pressure halfway. Social pressure is a carrot-and-stick technique. As important as it is to have the stick, it’s equally important to have the carrot.
When people use social pressure to influence others’ behaviour, it’s clear that the stick is ostracism and public shaming. What’s the carrot, however, in this context? It can’t just be “not getting shamed and ostracized.” That’s the default. Using only negative social pressure to try and control people’s behaviour can only work superficially and, on some level, turns resisting that social pressure into a counterculture.
Empathy was lost in the scramble to call out and shame other anime fans in the name of “keeping people safe.” Again, not everyone is cut out for extended periods of social isolation, and for many, conventions represent a few times a year when they can cut loose, have fun, and forget about the real world for a weekend. And, indeed, for others, those conventions help them stay financially secure.
It’s easy to vilify people for doing the wrong thing, but without rewarding them for doing the right thing, it just looks like one group of people is trying to control the other. It has been a very tough year. People need support, and they know they can get the kind of support they need if they go to a con.
The big failing of events like Anime Dallas or Florida’s Ultracon is not in these events’ decision to continue. So long as their home states permit them, they can make the choice to still put on a show. Many of them must, due to contractual obligations with their venues (Or else all but guarantee they won’t have a 2021 event). If vendors, guests, artists, volunteers, staff, and attendees decide not to attend, that’s their decision.
The big failing related to these events is that the subculture online has become such a battlefield that people would rather take the risk of going to a convention because they know the kind of mutual support they need isn’t going to come from people on the internet, because nobody is offering it. Where the fandom was previously a place they could reliably go to for an escape from real-world stresses, it has since become a constant reminder of those real-world stresses, to a point where people are desperate for a con, whether that’s because they haven’t had real social interaction in months, to make money so they can make it to 2021, to spite people trying to control them, or just to have a weekend of fun in a world that seems to have forgotten how.
Have some empathy and it’s more likely to get returned.
Because the real lasting damage is that we end up with fewer people in the subculture when this is over.
In more ways than one.
In part 2 (On Otaku Entrepreneur), we’ll discuss how lockdown measures in 2020 will change the convention landscape from a business perspective.