By Larry W. Bryant
[AUTHOR's note: From my UFOlit archives comes the following essay, which I originally published in "The Realist" magazine for March 1965, under the title "Space Toys for Kids?" Perhaps the article has added relevance today, in light of a growing citizens movement for an international treaty to ban the "weaponization of space" (see the web site of http://www.peaceinspace.com ). And perhaps one of today's enterprising freelancers might wish to revisit this topic by examining and reporting upon the current subculture of space-toy manufacturing, marketing, and consumption. The essay's initial online publication occurred in late 2001, upon the now-defunct web site of http://www.ufocity.com (which was operated for several years by New York-based researcher Peter Robbins). By the way, "The Realist"'s original publisher-editor, Paul Krassner, remains alive (and writing); and he remains one of my literary heroes. For an archived example of his current work ("How the Realist Popped America's Cherry" -- a memoir of his days at "The Realist"), see: http://www.nypress.com/16/34/news&columns/feature.cfm -- published by the New York Press on Aug. 19, 2003.]
"Just turn ray chamber for Alpha, Beta or Gamma ray. Fission Speed Regulators. Tele-Radar Sight. Neutron Release. Electronic Converter. Sonic Ray."
Is this space-age jargon referring to the latest brand of communications satellites, nuclear reactors, or anti-missile missiles? Hardly.
But if your son or daughter is caught up in the latest toy passion, grab your space helmet and take cover! For those impressive terms apply to an equally impressive example of our toy industry's ingenuity (or lack of it, depending on your point of view). In this case, the invention is the "Outer Space Ray Gun," marketed by Tim-Mee Toys, Inc., Aurora, Ill.
"It's 'Super Sonic,' with built-in Buzzer Signal -- shoots Alpha-Beta-Gamma Rays," proclaims Tim-Mee on the pistol's box. Naturally, it's made of colorful plastic, and (not so naturally) "can be used as flashlight." This space gun, unlike most of its competitors, also can be used to transmit Morse Code, making it a fairly innocuous device compared to some I've seen.
Does the advent of armed interplanetary rockets, space guns, and ray guns into the toy-weapons market portend the day when we on the planet Earth ourselves will become the armed invaders of outer space? Do these toys form a breeding ground for violent attitudes in our youth?
These questions, I have found, have no easy solutions. It seems that we do not know yet the full extent of toy space weapons' psychological effects. Nevertheless, having spied upon the stocks of local toy counters and consulted with toy-gun manufacturers, psychiatrists, pacifist leaders, and other authorities interested in the problem, I have discovered some tentative answers.
The dime store labels the new breed of "war toys" (as the pacifists call them) with such names as "Atomic Space Gun" and "Astro Scout." The kid next door compares his just-bought model with his "old-fashioned" .45 cal. Army pistol and marvels at the colored lights and way-out buzz of this addition to his space gun arsenal. Weeks later, the store gets a fresh supply of even weirder portable space weaponry.
Little Johnny down the street, who recently latched onto the "Astro Scout" (a plastic shooter that fires, one at a time, three plastic flying saucers 60 feet, vertically or horizontally), trades it off to big Billy, who has grown tired of his "Giant Saucers" gun, with its "NEW Pull-a-Gear Hand Launcher." Johnny gloats over the "giant" model's ability to "soar up to 100 feet," and pores greedily over the "assembly instructions." But Billy really didn't want the Astro Scout for himself -- he's going to pawn it to his next-door neighbor, Sally Ann, who has a new red-plastic, "Squirt Ray" water pistol shaped like a Buck Rogers spaceship; she wants to trade it only for an Astro Scout.
Then there is the "U.F.O. [Unidentified Flying Object -- officialese for flying saucers] Patrol," complete with telescopic sight, which is described by its maker (Park Plastics Co., Linden, N. J.) as a "palm-size launcher gun with two patrol saucers.) A more elaborate version is Park's "Satellite Interceptor," a "dual-action launcher gun . . . press button and fire saucer, trigger fires dart aimed at flying
saucer."
For a mobile launching station, Park offers us their "Jeep Missile Interceptor: Scale model combat Jeep with missile release mounted in rear. Flying Saucers launched by simple spring device . . . wind and launch." Finally, from Park's, we have the "Astro-Fleet," whose only difference from the Astro-Scout (besides the higher price) is that it shoots a "piloted" saucer.
What will Madison Avenue feed our space-minded innocents with next: a red-white-and-blue Luger that spurts a pseudo-laser beam? As in our real-life missile business, these futuristic weapons of the toy industry can become obsolete almost before they hit the market. They seem to symbolize not only the ability to kill but also the reserve capacity to "overkill" -- to disintegrate that imaginary target which is not a cowboy, an Indian, or a Nazi, but the omnipotent foe from outer space, the "monster" from another world.
From another capitalizing firm -- Palmer Plastics, Inc., Brooklyn, N.Y. -- comes the ("Unbreakable") "U.S. Space Probe Bombs (Shoots harmless paper caps)," which are billed as replicas of the Jupiter and Atlas missiles. Note the euphemistic term "space probe." With the word "Bombs," what Palmer ultimately implies is "space conquest."
While casually exploring the toy-gun stand of a local 5-10-25-cent store recently, I discovered a "Made in Japan" version of the Luger I mentioned earlier. Here, our "Junior Spacemen" are offered a metallic "Space Super Jet Gun," which is "friction-powered with sparking." And its maker certifies: "Non-Toxic Colors -- Safe -- Harmless."
Aimed at one consumer level is the so-called space helmet, a probable outgrowth of the TV "Outer Limits" science-fiction series. Whereas the space gun exploits the hostilities of its clientele more than their fears, the space helmet exploits primarily their fears. What a combination!
Our curious children are offered a space helmet put out by Remco Industries, Inc., Harrison, N. J., which calls itself "Hamilton's Invaders" and which pictures a gruesome "space bug" on the container,
with the label "Monster; Science Fiction." It was Remco's president, Saul Robbins, who, at the 1964 American Toy Fair, contended that there has been no evidence that gun toys instigate crime among their owners.
Although the "Outer Limits" series has tended to portray its spacemen or monsters as the "good guys" (in contrast to most of Hollywood's earlier science-fiction movies), there is no indication on the space helmet's container that the "Hamilton's Invaders" represent peaceful entities.
In fact, Remco also offers in its space arsenal "The Battle of the Giants (Horrible Hamilton [a multicolored beetle sporting a stringy hump on its back], Torpedo Tank, and six Defenders [Earthlings])." Here, in Remco's own words, we may have the epitome of the psychology of toy
space weaponry; the monster-image conjured up by Remco's ad writer could actually foster the sociological phenomena of mass panic and mob violence:
"Out of the eerie, unknown world of Science Fiction stalks Horrible Hamilton, eyes a fiery red antennae a-quivver . . . spine-chilling, thrilling. At the tug of a lanyard, this giant insect leader of the Invaders advances menacingly upon the 'earth.' He lumbers and lurches blindly ahead. His jaws actually close on the poor Defenders -- bringing squeals of pretended terror from every youngster who watches, delightedly breathless and disbelieving. Quickly, the 6 Defenders are brought into play -- strategically spotted to halt the invasion. Then the foot-long electric torpedo tank goes into action. Beneath the transparent hatch, the driver sits. Two torpedos snake forward 20 feet. And so the game goes on, for hour on hour of out-of-this-world adventure! Horrible Hamilton spring-motorized -- no batteries needed."
Why does the kid next door, or your own boy or girl for that matter, choose from these futuristic toys instead of the conventional toy weapons [see Realist issue No. 48]?
First, there was the bow-and-arrow and the rifle; then the torpedo and the fighter plane; now the missile and the space gun. If this is a natural and inevitable progression of weaponry down through the ages, it is because of one psychological fact: Man seeks pleasure and avoids pain. Thus he is required, when confronted by a competitor, to develop new weaponry either for furthering or for protecting his pleasure quest.
If his competitor is an Earthly non-human, fine; for the dumb animal, of course, cannot match Man's manufacturing skills. But if the non-human happens to be a sapient creature from outer space, Man is seized by fear that his conventional weapons will be inadequate to maintain his security.
The Earthling now convinces himself that he should avoid being pained by the possible natural superiority of the spacemen. Hence, Man's development of the neutron ("death ray") bomb, the laser beam, and, possibly, the ultra-toxic gas spray gun. The toy representation of such weapons probably signifies subconscious transmission of the adult's space-war phobia into the child's otherwise carefree existence.
Expressing his opinion as to why these new toys appeal to our youth, Dr.
R. Leo Sprinkle, a Guidance Education professor at the University of
Wyoming, states, in a letter to me:
"I see the ray guns, etc., as an extension of the "cowboys and Indians" and "cops and robbers" of the era in which I grew up. If they are related to extraterrestrial creatures, I believe it is more of a
reaction to fear of the unknown -- rather than as a positive step to become warlike.
"I may be overly optimistic, but I believe that human violence is based more upon ignorance than upon perversity or cruelty. I hope that further knowledge of other planets will prepare for the day when mankind is introduced officially to other civilizations."
Recently, while grocery-shopping with my 8-year-old son, I realized that the toy space-gun makers have finally seized upon the most obvious means of advertising their wares directly to our youth. Upon arriving at the cereal counter, my son started scanning the colorful boxes strictly to ferret out the latest sales gimmick. His selection was "Frosty-O's," not because he had eaten some in the past, or had heard how delicious they were, but because of the "Giant Flying Saucer Offer"
emblazoned over the entire back side of the box. Yes, it was Park Plastics' product with the "Pull-a-Gear Hand Launcher."
Here is how the "Frosty-O's" ad prescribed two uses of "Giant Saucers":
"(1) Space Duel. First player launches saucer. Then other player tries to knock it down with one of his own.
"(2) On Target. Stand 10 steps from a target and see how many times you can hit it in 10 tries. (Suggested targets: trees, telephone poles, fences.)"
If it is true, as some observers have said, that 80 to 90 percent of all toy guns sold are bought for the small fry by their parents, then we may blame the adult for the DEMAND FOR as well as the supply of the weapons.
The toy-gun manufacturers claim they market only what appears to them to be in public demand, whether it be a Davy Crockett musket or a Titan ICBM. We the adult population create the demand via our addiction to violence, this addiction being portrayed profusely in the various communications media. Real space weapons themselves (such as the satellite-bomb interceptor, the death-ray bomb and the laser-beam rifle), therefore, may be simply the reflection of our violent attitude toward the unknown dangers supposedly lurking in outer space.
The tragic part of this is that the toy space weapons, if not also the real ones, along with the communications media, can seduce youth into the violent posture we the adults have assumed.
I wrote to the director of the U. S. National Institute of Mental Health, posing the question of whether the space-gun toys do in fact symbolize a space-war neurosis in our society. The director's
information officer, Ed Long, replied as follows:
"Although there is an increasing amount of psychological research into factors influencing man's aggressions and hostilities, there has been little investigation into the influence of toys of any kind.
"Very close to this, however, there has been a rising concern, along with a rising number of investigations supported by the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, over the possible influence of comic books, motion pictures, and television on abnormal development and delinquency among children. Although investigations have shown that crime and violence depicted through these media can influence child behavior, there have been no conclusive demonstrations as to what extent
these influences may be detrimental to normal development."
When I canvassed several of the larger organizations representing the 100,000-odd pacifists in our country, however, I found the consensus to be that, as Rev. R. Franklin Terry, an official of the Methodist Peace Fellowship put it, "the distribution of toy weapons of any kind does tend to foster the notion of armed conflict in the minds of our children."
One of the strongest pacifist positions is the one taken by Victor H. Gavel, president of the Baptist Peace Fellowship, which is affiliated with the 13,000-member Fellowship of Reconciliation:
"As I feel the use of any type of gun, pistol, rifle, etc., as toys in the hands of children to be extremely detrimental to the growth toward the idea of world peace, or peace as Jesus taught it, so I feel that the use of space guns of whatever sort would in a like manner develop a feeling of hostility toward any possible life on other planets."
Mr. Gavel's opinion is in keeping, no doubt, with the fact that in rearing his two sons and three daughters "we never had a gun or any shooting equipment in our home." One of his sons, for that matter, was a conscientious objector.
But not so critical as Mr. Gavel is the secretary-treasurer of the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, Rev. Lloyd A. Berg:
"Personally, I should think that the matter of toy 'space guns' would most essentially be a branch of the whole question of making toys out of lethal weapons. I tend to react negatively to this whole idea, but I know there are sincere peace-oriented psychologists who rather believe such toys provide a healthy and relatively harmless outlet for anger and aggressiveness."
One such psychologist may be Dr. Stanley B. Williams, chairman of the psychology department of the College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va. For Dr. Williams wrote me:
"It is clear that the effect of any one experience depends on the context of related experiences; hence, a toy gun may or may not instigate hostility, depending on parents' attitudes, etc."
In the educated opinion of another Virginia psychologist, Dr. Donald P. Ogden of Norfolk's Old Dominion College:
"It is possible that toy weapons of any sort may serve as relatively harmless objects through which general feelings of frustration and hostility may be drained off, but this may be at the expense of possibly creating negative attitudes toward extraterrestrial creatures.
"Although I can't see how space guns, etc., do children any particular good, I do not feel that the likelihood of developing long-lasting negative attitudes of this sort is very probable. For instance, despite my early years of 'cowboys and Indians,' I do not now harbor negative attitudes toward Indians. Do you?"
Perhaps one might estimate the probability of this negative-attitude development by reviewing still another example of our war-toy technology: the "Astro Ray . . . Space-Age Gun for the Space Ace" is
marketed as a "Flashlight Target Gun" by its maker, Ohio Art Co., Bryan, Ohio. It competes with Tim-Mee Toys' brand in that it is capable of shooting six rubber-tip darts at an accompanying metal target board. The board projects the planets of our solar system as the numbered targets.
Let's try to answer Dr. Ogdon's question by turning to a group that claims to be "innovator, catalyst, gadfly" among united pacifists -- the 50-year-old Fellowship of Reconciliation itself, spoken for by Acting Executive Secretary Glenn E. Smiley:
"I suppose our only hope in this matter is the fact that children seem to be able to survive the most ghastly influence on their lives. As a pacifist, I recall distinctly playing with toy weapons, lining sticks up in trenches and 'killing' them by throwing rocks at them. Of course, my childhood days were spent during the First World War or in the years immediately following it. I was also taught 'the manly art of self defense' by my father, and hunted as a child for small game on my father's plantation.
"It is encouraging to me to realize that all of this experience had very little effect upon me although I realized at the same time that in my childhood the whole society was not violent in kind as is ours. We did not have television, the toy weapons were not as attractive nor as curiosity-encouraging as are the slick toys of today."
Mr. Smiley's reminiscence reminds me of one of my own childhood pastimes: building stick-and-stone houses in order to blow them apart with "harmless" firecrackers that I imagined as blockbusters. Now my own boy is doing the same thing with the more sophisticated "Space Probe Bombs."
But in contrast, another pacifist leader has an almost apathetic view of the problem. David McReynolds, field secretary of the War Resisters League, writes:
"I suppose someone might seriously get concerned with the dangers of toy space weapons to interplanetary peace. If so, we really can't be of any help. I don't think any of our members are losing sleep on the matter."
Probably the most militant response to the emergence of space-age toy weapons is voiced in a recent issue of Peace Education Newsletter, published by the New York-based Women's Strike for Peace. This contribution from the feminine approach to pacifism seems to take issue with the indecision of the psychologists and the lethargy of the male-dominated War Resisters:
"As you mothers have probably observed, the time-honored games of cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians have given way to mock guerilla warfare with very sophisticated and very violent death-dealing weapons. The TV blasts away with commercials showing children throwing grenades,
pilots dropping bombs on cities, Polaris subs firing missiles -- even the boy-child's favorite toy train now comes equipped with missiles.
"Most parents have anxiety when they first see their tiny one point a toy gun and shout, 'Bang, you're dead' . . . or, 'I'll shoot you.' They question the authorities (the teacher, the nursery school educator, the doctor, the psychologist, etc.); and, of course, they have been quietly reassured that this action reflects the natural hostility in the child, that it is part of his natural developmental process. The seeming violence means different things to the child; they [the authorities] say it is his way of overcoming fears and dealing with his own hostility.
"This popular theory may still be useful, although there is increasing disagreement by professionals in the behavioral sciences about the meaning of these actions. However, even if one assumes that the theory is correct, is our way of dealing with this behavior pattern right? When the tot lifts his tiny finger to kill his inner or outer fears, should we put a grenade in it . . . an atomic bomb? Are not weapons of total extermination already too horrible for many adults to comprehend, too horrible for children as well? Do we not actually interfere with his natural efforts to deal with his anxiety at his own level? In fairy tales or cowboy battles he can easily distinguish between play and reality, but how can you help a child pretend that bombs and missiles aren't real when he hears news reports and adult discussion to the contrary?"
Psychology professor T. L. Engle of Indiana University Fort Wayne Regional Campus has considered "making a survey of toy stores and toy departments in order to measure the percentage of space devoted to toys suggesting killing and the percentage of toys suggesting peaceful occupations."
Since his textbook "Psychology: Its Principles and Applications" has become a standard in use by high-school psychology teachers across the nation, Dr. Engle may well be in a sound position to evaluate the significance of toy space weapons even though he is not a social psychologist. "It is my opinion," says he, "that war toys do have a very real and marked influence on the attitudes of children who will be the makers of war in a few years. I wish that there were more toys suggesting the brotherhood of man and the values of peace."
If the pacifists and peace-loving psychologists can and do remove the warlike toys from the market, what can be furnished as a replacement? Well, if the production of war tools is motivated largely by fear of the unknown, then we can dispel most of this emotion by making toys more peacefully communicative and thus more constructive. The toys I have in mind can represent togetherness arrived at through person-to-person communication and transportation. (We already have the toy telephone and truck, for instance.) We can still appeal to the adventurousness (and aggressiveness, since it needs an outlet) of our children through the following space-weapons substitutes:
(1) A model radio astronomy kit.
(2) A mental-telepathy competition game.
(3) A teaching machine for the long-sought universal language.
(4) A simulated perpetual-motion machine.
(5) A space-age gyroscope.
(6) A doll-size bathysphere.
(7) A space-medicine kit.
If the "flying saucer" is in fact a mode of transportation used by non-Earthlings, then by all means let's construct toy models of it -- even flyable ones -- as long as we abstain from depicting it primarily
as a weapon. Granted that our space rockets are a form of transportation; but it seems the toy makers emphasize the military or destructive potential of these vehicles.
On the positive side, however, we have one manufacturer that does not play up the military aspect of its replica of the Army's "Flying Platform" -- namely, Sydney A. Tarrson Co., Chicago, Ill.
Meantime, as the day approaches for face-to-face meetings with non-Earthlings, let not my little Johnny, your big Billy, our neighbor's Sally Ann, or any other potential "space cadet" be swayed by propaganda of the space-weapon peddlers. If we cannot eliminate them entirely, we can at least reduce any of their war-mongering effect by continually exposing such ostensibly harmless advertisements as the following:
"Out of the swirling mists of the future comes the Hamilton Ray Gun. At the touch of the trigger -- ZZZZ -- sound waves penetrate, light rays dazzle! Four wildly colored beams are flicked at the foe. Change from one sizzling ray to another at the turn of the turret. All the weird wonders of Science Fiction in one harmless weapon."
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