Wings of Progress

How the Ala Alba pantheon represents a shift from savagery to civilization

Many pixels have flickered over the legends of Ala Rubra and Ala Alba. Recently, the so-called "Hero Theory" (the idea that those fantastic pantheons were composed genuine historical figures that accomplished some or all of the feats attributed to them) has been in vogue. This essay will serve to debunk that hypothesis by showing that whatever crumbs of historical fact may be buried within the narrative, they are entirely overwhelmed by the allegory of the Akamatsu culture's transition from an age of warlike tribalism to one of diplomacy and scholarship.

The most obvious symbolism of this transition is the difference in name between the old pantheon and the new. The red of the old pantheon is a clear allusion to blood, which would be associated with the warfare and other brutality that spilled it. The white of the newer pantheon symbolizes purification; while Nagi's wings are bathed in the blood of those he slew, Negi's wings are washed clean of them. Now that the old, barbaric ways have been abandoned, a new way must be found. Here we come to one of the most singular traits of the Ala Alba: the assigning of each deity to a numbered "seat," from one to four hundred and ninety-six. Scholars debate endlessly the meaning of these numbers, but it is this researcher's firm conviction that the symbolism of any particular seat is dwarfed by the symbolism of the whole. The numbers connect the gods of the Alba pantheon to mathematics, and therefor to science and civilization as a whole.

At this point, the "Hero Theory" advocates will no doubt be clamoring that the above symbolism could have been a deliberate choice by the historical Negi Springfield. This would not be entirely laughable if said symbolism were the only subject of this essay. However, the boy hero was hardly at liberty to select himself and his companions to serve as powerful or more a symbolic purpose as the group's name. Many of the Alba deities are near-duplicates of their Rubra forbearers. There are the hero-fools, Rakan and Kotaro, the trickster-healers, Albireo and Konoka, the dutiful swordmasters, Eishun and Setsuna, the warrior Princesses, Arika and Asuna, and of course the Springfields, so alike in name, appearance, and prowess yet so unlike in personality.

Of course, the Hero Theorists brush off the similarities between the Springfields as the effects of heredity, and between the others as mere coincidence. This paper will here show that it is far more likely that the members of the Rubra pantheon evolved into their Alba counterparts than that such remarkable correspondences were the result of simple chance. For instance, "Negi Springfield" is undoubtably a corruption of "Nagi Springfield," with the confusion exacerbated by "Negi" possessing a peaceful wisdom thought more appropriate to the chief deity of a maturing society than the simple-minded violence of "Nagi." The newfound youth of "Negi" does not signify that he is the literal son of "Nagi." Rather, his youth and that of his fellows indicates that the Akamatsu society during the Alba period considered itself to be a symbolic child, with its most glorious years stretching in front of it. This is obviously much more plausible than the frankly disturbing claims that a ten-year-old boy would have been fit to act as general for fifteen-year-olds, and to face deadly enemies and fearsome trials with them.

The changes of the lesser deities were more complex. When Rakan was made into Kotaro, the Akamatsu were enlightened enough to disdain brute violence for its own sake. Thus, Kotaro was made half dog-demon, to symbolize that the blood-thirst he represented must be leashed and tamed. They were not yet enlightened enough to eschew such blatantly racist symbolism. Eishun was similarly given animalistic attributes, and both he and Albireo were feminized. This change in gender was due to the sexist belief that women were more nurturing and compassionate than men. Again, the Akamatsu were more barbarous than they knew. More telling than that is the fact that the romantic link and partnership, or "ohteepee," between the two was exceptionally constant in the normally muddled legends of Ala Alba. Evidently, the ancients believed that the trickster would benefit from the swordswoman's sense of duty, and the swordswoman from the trickster's healing nature. The change from Arika's reserve to Asuna's passion would seem anomalous, but some leeway for enthusiasm can easily be made sensical in the light of Asuna's nature as protector and the aforementioned positive view of women.

The new additions to the pantheon are as telling as the transformations of the old. For instance, Kotaro was most commonly ohteepeed with Chizuru and Natsumi, who have the control of children and invisibility in their respective purviews. This clearly shows the view that the savagery of Kotaro must either be harnessed or vanish entirely. Similarly, the many and often contradictory ohteepees of Negi should not be seen to indicate something as preposterous as a ten-year-old philanderer, but rather a potent symbolic connection between the paragon god and such worthy attributes as studiousness (the famous double ohteepee of Nodoka and Yue), athleticism (Ku Fei), and service (Chachamaru).

Consider also Evangeline and Chao, representative respectively of the past and future. Evangeline is encountered first as a predator who must be subdued. Yet even when she is defeated, she is never entirely harmless. She was a powerful ally who was said to have taught secrets even to Negi, but she was also proud, cruel, voraciously carnal, and perfectly willing to keep the machine goddess Chachamaru in bondage. While Chao also appears initially as an antagonist, here the similarities end. Chao's goal is selfless where Evangeline's is selfish. Where Evangeline remains a presence in the pantheon in all the tales that follow her appearance, Chao vanishes whence she came after her plan fails. Thus, the Akamatsu believed that the past would remain with them and teach valuable lessons for all its savagery, and that the march of progress would lead to a distant future of understanding and sundry wonders, including those as implausible as combat-useful applications of temporal mechanics in a time as primitive as the twenty-second century.

For all their faults and prejudices, the Akamatsu showed commendable foresight about the improvements that time brings. May future generations judge us as lightly for our errors as we have reason to judge them for theirs.