What if a giant monster were to hold an official government position? We're not talking about a metaphor. In 2015, Godzilla was appointed "tourism ambassador" for the Shinjuku district in Tokyo. An icon of destruction now promoting travel. Yes, this really happened — and it’s not the only case.
Japan has a unique talent for transforming fictional characters, eccentric mascots, and even inanimate objects into symbolic citizens. It may seem like an exaggeration, but there is logic to this. The country masters the art of cultural personification like no one else, and the strangest "honorary citizens" are proof of that.
If you think it's strange to see Godzilla as a public authority, wait until you find out who else has already received an official title in the archipelago.
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Godzilla: from chaos to functional hip card
In 2015, the Shinjuku district officially named Godzilla as its "Tourism Ambassador." It's not a joke. A certificate was issued, complete with the date of the appointment and a formal justification. The reason? Godzilla is part of the region's collective imagination. Toho Studios, the original producer of the films, is headquartered there, and the monster's head was installed high on the building of Toho Cinemas Kabukicho.
The nomination was also a clever marketing move. The image of Godzilla began to adorn tourist materials, and tourists from around the world started visiting the site to see the famous statue — which even roars at specific times.
Would you imagine using a monster to attract tourism? Well, Shinjuku did exactly that, and it worked.
Yuru-Chara: mascots with badges and salary
If you have ever seen a Japanese mascot posing at local events, there’s a good chance you are facing a yuru-chara. They are characters created by regional governments to represent cities, provinces, or even public offices.
The most famous of them may be Kumamon, the mascot of Kumamoto Prefecture. Created in 2010, Kumamon became a national — and international — phenomenon. He received the title of "Sales Director and Happiness Manager" of the prefecture. The role? To promote tourism and local products. Successfully: the region's economy grew, and the mascot brought in billions of yen in licensing.
Another unusual example is Funassyi, an unofficial "alien pear" from the city of Funabashi. Even without initial from the local government, it gained so much popularity that it became a regular presence on TV shows, got its own anime, and ended up being recognized as the cultural representative of the city.
It's not an exaggeration to say that some of these mascots have more influence than real politicians.
Doraemon, Totoro, and other ambassadors of the impossible
The nomination of famous characters does not stop at mascots. In 2008, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs appointed Doraemon as the "Anime Ambassador." The goal was to promote Japanese pop culture as a diplomatic tool. Mission accomplished: the character participated in international events, promotional videos, and was a key player in cultural projects of Japanese diplomacy.
Totoro, the forest spirit created by Hayao Miyazaki, although never formally named, is regarded as a protective symbol in various rural communities. Some areas have installed statues of the character as if they were sacred totems. For many residents, Totoro represents the spirit of the place and environmental preservation.
These characters not only entertain — they represent ideals. And Japan knows how to use this to its advantage.
When objects become citizens
If you think that only characters earn titles, get ready. In Japan, even objects can become public figures.
- The Hayabusa train, from the Shinkansen line, received the symbolic title of "technology ambassador."
- Ceremonial swords of temples were named "living treasures" with almost human status.
- Robots, like the famous Pepper, have already acted as "official receptionists" in tourist information centers and banks.
These nominations blend technological reverence with ancient cultural values, such as Shintoism, where objects (including tools) can contain spirits (kami). The boundary between the functional and the symbolic is much more flexible in Japan.
Why does Japan do this?
It's not just marketing or eccentricity. There's a deep cultural logic. The practice of personification — whether mascots, monsters, or objects — is rooted in the way the Japanese perceive the world. In Shintoism, everything can have a soul. This concept is reflected today in how governments and companies create visual representations to establish emotional connections with people.
Furthermore, using characters allows public messages — such as environmental education, tourism, or disaster prevention — to be delivered in a friendlier manner. Children pay attention. Adults smile. Foreign visitors share on social media.
It is a modern way of making culture live in everyday life.
So... who would you nominate?
Can you imagine your city adopting a character as an honorary citizen? Perhaps a local mascot, a famous artist, or — why not? — a character that represents the spirit of the place. In Japan, this not only happens but succeeds. It attracts tourists, strengthens the sense of identity, and brings people closer to the culture.
What seems strange at first glance is actually a powerful tool. It mixes charisma with tradition, entertainment with diplomacy. And more than anything, it reminds us that symbols also have a voice.
Don't be afraid to think outside the box. Sometimes, it's precisely in the absurd that genius resides.
