Hey, Wisecrack.
So, over the years, you guys know it’s been our mission to use the lens of philosophy,
literature, and the humanities to achieve a greater appreciation of art and hopefully
to enrich people’s lives.
But today, we're doing something a little different — this is Ground Zero of science
content on Wisecrack.
And for that, I decided to bring on someone who’s a lot smarter than I am, when it comes
to science: Helen.
Hey, guys.
So, today we are starting with a Wisecrack favorite, to see if we can connect some of
the philosophical themes that we talk about with existing research in neuroscience, biology,
and psychology.
So, today we’re starting with One Punch Man.
I also want to give a quick shout out to Brilliant.org for sponsoring this video.
Thank you, guys.
So, anyway, gonna give it over to Helen.
Wait, so… do- is it “Hey, Wisecrack.
Helen, here?”
So, it would be, “Hey, Wisecrack.
Helen, here.”
You gotta go — it’s 1-2-3, up-down.
“Hey, Wisecrack…
Helen, here?”
There we go.
Now, say it faster.
Hey Wisecrack, Helen here, and today we’re putting the baldest badass in the universe
under the microscope.
In One Punch Man, our protagonist Saitama is a salaryman-turned-hero who possesses no
special powers apart from the strength he’s gained through his “intense” training
regimen.
“100 push-ups!
100 sit-ups!
And 100 squats!
Then, a 10 kilometer run!
DO IT EVERY SINGLE DAY!”
And now he can defeat every enemy with a single punch.
Sounds cool, right?
Well, this lack of challenge leaves Saitama bored, detached, and unfulfilled.
“Not again.
All it took was one punch!”
Dreaming of becoming the best at anything is pretty much “Being Human 101,” but
does Saitama’s dilemma reflect our growing scientific understanding of how humans can
live a satisfying life?
Welcome to this special Wisecrack Edition on The Science of One Punch Man.
And as always, spoilers ahead.
With no real challenge, Saitama loses his enthusiasm for battle, much to the irritation
of his rivals.
He blows them off, — "Then prepare to witness the true power of the mighty-” “Aw man,
I got dirt in my ‘special pants place.’”
“Hey, are you even listening?”
— insults them, — “What a letdown.
I was pretty excited to see the battle suits I’d been hearing about, but the design is
pretty lame.
All the do is give you superhuman strength.”
— and occasionally has the audacity to yawn during a fight.
Doesn’t really seem like Saitama is enjoying himself.
As we’ve mentioned before, philosophers like Masahiro Morioka have argued that challenge
is a necessary component of a meaningful life, and that as our lives become more efficient,
and therefore less challenging, we risk our mental health.
“We will continue to riot until food, clothing, and shelter are provided free of charge to
those who do not work.”
“Sounds pretty boring.”
Turns out this isn’t just philosophical grandstanding: science suggests there’s
a biological basis for the idea that challenging ourselves is good for us, and it’s not just
our mental health that’s at stake if we always take it easy.
Neuroscientist Dr. Mark Mattson argues that the pervasiveness of what he calls “unchallenging
lifestyles” prevents us from activating adaptive stress responses, a series of changes
that take place at the cellular level when an organism is exposed to danger.
Here’s how it works: let’s say you’re walking down the alley, when you encounter
a giant kelp-encrusted monster.
Your brain activates your “sympathetic” nervous system - or the part of the nervous
system that activates the fight or flight response - by sending out a molecule from
the hypothalamus, an almond-shaped area toward the center of the brain.
This molecule tells the pituitary gland to send out another molecule, which sets off
a series of reactions in the adrenal glands above the kidney, that ultimately lead to
the release of a substance called cortisol, aka the “stress hormone.”
Its nickname comes from the fact that its the main hormone involved in the stress response,
and while there’s always a certain baseline amount circulating through the bloodstream,
those levels increase when your fight-or-flight response turns up.
That extra cortisol prompts your body to do things things like break down sugar to give
you energy and numb the pain response so you’ll be more likely to fight through an injury.
It also turns down the part of your immune system that fights off viruses and certain
kinds of bacteria.
This isn’t a bad thing - the idea is to push the energy you’d need to fight infection
to other, more important tasks that’ll help you survive an immediate threat.
If this happens now and then, it works kind of like endurance training: your body learns
how to respond to acute stress more efficiently.
But if it’s constant, you can wind up with a botched immune system, as your body becomes
less sensitive to cortisol.
That can lead to chronic inflammation, because there’s nothing stopping your immune system
from running on high,' which can lead to a host of other health problems.
We might consider dominator of the universe, Lord Boros, as an exaggerated metaphor for
this process.
“My species won the struggle for survival amid the harsh environment of our home world.
We possess the ultimate in regenerative abilities.”
Being able to regrow entire limbs is a pretty potent adaptive stress response, a la the
not-so-fictional starfish, a well-known limb regenerator.
Yet, Boros also points out that the extreme strength he exudes in battle is so taxing
that it actually shortens his life if he uses it too often.
"Doing this places enormous stress on my body, similar to anaerobic exercise.
As a result, it shortens my life."
The same problem humans run into when our fight or flight response goes into overdrive
for too long.
Scientists like Dr. Mattson say humans are evolutionarily adapted to deal with environmental
challenges.
And then not having them - mainly in the form of not enough physical exertion or too little
exposure to the natural toxins found in plants - can lead to the prolonged inflammatory states
that have been linked to everything from Alzheimer’s to diabetes to cancer.
Inflamation causes changes in DNA, and since DNA contains the “code” for creating all
the proteins in your body, wonky DNA can result in misshapen proteins, those can go on to
screw up hormone regulation and encourage out-of-control cell growth - in other words,
cancer.
From Dr. Mattson’s perspective, without challenges, your body isn’t given opportunities
to strengthen its defenses - that is, improve the adaptive stress response - so when something
starts to go wrong, it has a hard time fixing it.
Outside of the physical effects a lack of conflict introduces, a similar logic operates
psychologically.
While Saitama may not be getting diabetes, he’s probably got some issued going on in
his brain parts.
Through the show, we can see how enduring challenges can make you more mentally resilient.
Let’s take Genos.
He’s faced certain challenges that Saitama hasn’t.
Based on what we know from the show, Saitama’s had it pretty easy: He didn’t get into the
crime-fighting business to avenge the death of his family or bring justice to the oppressed.
He just did it for fun.
"You're a fast one.
Who are you?"
"Just a guy who's a hero for fun."
On the other hand, Genos’s backstory is much more traumatic.
He witnessed the destruction of his hometown and the death of his family at the hands of
an out-of-control cyborg.
"We lived a peaceful and happy life together, until that fateful day, when a crazy cyborg
went out of control and attacked our town."
His experience mirrors that of many other characters in the genre: Guts from Berserk,
Eren from Attack on Titan, Naruto... a painful childhood is a common denominator throughout
anime, manga, and comics in general.
How do those experiences shape the characters?
Well, it’s pretty complex - and often a little f**ked up.
On one hand, their struggles often motivate them, or at the very least seem to give them
the strength to withstand extremely difficult circumstances.
Psychology backs this up: a growing body of research suggests that some people who go
through adverse or traumatic experiences as kids are in some ways more resilient than
those whose childhoods were relatively care free.
For instance, some individuals who grow up in high-stress environments develop unique
problem-solving skills and are better able to deal with uncertainty than their peers
who had it easier.
Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that there are loads of other issues associated
with having a rough childhood, like problems with learning and memory and a propensity
for being emotionally reactive.
And there are caveats to the whole “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” idea,
too: research on adults has indicated that those who face a “medium” number of challenging
life events - like the death of a loved one or financial difficulties - are better able
to cope with worry and stress than those who deal with either an unusually low or unusually
high number of such experiences.
It’s sort of like the Goldilocks principle: optimal adaptation to stress is achieved from
having not too much exposure but not too little, either.
In theory, Genos’s traumatic experiences may have boosted his ability to handle the
emotional whiplash of hero work (though being a cyborg definitely helps).
He fights to near death in battle and shows up when others don’t, like when the S class
heroes are called in to hold off the meteor that threatens to wipe out City Z.
Meanwhile, Saitama meanders through life.
He can’t even try to swat a mosquito without losing it.
"Damn mosquitos."
Additionally, having something to strive for - becoming as strong as his sensei — gives
Genos’s work meaning a stark contrast with Saitama, who is already at the top of his
game.
"I'm the hero I'd always dreamed of becoming, so what is this?
What's wrong with me?
Why does my heart feel so lifeless and empty?"
Would Saitama be more satisfied if he had something more meaningful to work towards
than some BS superhero classification?
And what’s the purpose of having a purpose anyway?
Is there some kind of biological benefit to leading a meaningful life?
Back in 2008, a team of researchers published a study on the Japanese concept of ikigai
- which roughly translates to “a reason for being.”
In it, they asked 43,000 people a simple question: Do you have ikigai in your life?
By the end of the seven-year-long study, roughly 95 percent of those who reported having a
sense of ikigai were still alive, compared to only 83 percent of those who said they
did not.
Regardless of one’s socioeconomic status, psychological factors, lifestyle or history
of illness, the increased mortality risk remained.
Most of those who died without a sense of ikigai, did so as a result of heart disease,
mainly strokes.
For context: a link between heart disease and a lack of purpose has shown up consistently
in other studies: a 2015 roundup of Japanese and American research on the topic found reduced
heart disease in those who reported having a sense of meaning in life.
Unlike the villians in the series, who often have rather legitimate reasons for wanting
to destroy humanity, — "In order to wipe out humanity and the evil civilization built
on her surface, the Earth in her infinite wisdom has given birth to me!"
— Saitama is still unsure of his ikigai.
How do you even have purpose, when you’ve achieved what people like Genos can only dream
of?
His aimless existence leaves him prone to depression, irritability, and melancholy.
Boros has struggled to find his ikigai, too.
His purpose in life was to destroy one world after the next, but after growing so strong
that he no longer had worthy adversaries, he found himself bored and apathetic.
A seer told him he could a find the opponent that would reignite his passion for battle,
so he’s been traveling for 20 years to find one when he encounters Saitama.
In a sense, Saitama is Boros’s ikigai.
"Come, and give stimulation to my existence."
Scientists, for years, have postulated a relationship between purpose, life satisfaction and resilience.
Back in 1946, Dr. Victor Frankl - a psychiatrist, neurologist and Holocaust survivor - suggested
that the societal ills of “aggression, addiction, and depression” stemmed from an “existential
vacuum,” or the idea that one’s life and work lacked purpose.
In his book “Man’s Search for Meaning,”he describes the psychological impact of daily
life in a Nazi concentration camp.
He notes that the prisoners who clung on to a sense of purpose were the ones most likely
to survive, writing: “Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack
of meaning and purpose.”
Since then, we’ve seen over and over again that having no sense of meaning in life is
associated with a higher risk of addiction, anxiety and depression.
On the flip side, having a sense of purpose is associated with lower incidence of these
issues.
If challenging oneself is key to finding purpose in life, and having some sort of purpose is
necessary for optimal psychological, and perhaps even physical health, then we can see why
having virtually no competition leaves Saitama miserable.
Challenging ourselves can help us find that meaning, and improves our well-being in other
ways too.
And in some cases, even the hardships we can’t control can make us more resilient, which
suggests there might be a psychological benefit to seeing them as an opportunity for growth.
So, will Saitama ever be presented with a real challenge?
"I wonder if taking out this guy will count as work?"
And if he does will it give him a much needed sense of passion?
We’ll just have to wait until Season 2, whenever that is, to find out.