Thursday, July 14, 2016

Japan’s Emperor Akihito: The long goodbye

EVEN for such an unusual institution as Japan’s imperial system, Emperor Akihito is an anomaly. Descended from the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and son of the man-god in whose name Japan waged total war, Akihito was educated by humble Quakers. If there is something of which he can be said to be truly proud, it is his scientific passion for fish—“Some Morphological Characters Considered to be Important in Gobiid Phylogeny” being a particular highlight. Yet for all his innate modesty, he lives on 115 manicured hectares bang in the centre of crowded Tokyo. Life in the capital, in a very real sense, revolves around him.

As for his duties as emperor, Akihito is an anomaly, too. At home, he has knelt to comfort victims of natural disasters. Across Asia, his frequent travels and sensitive speeches have helped make amends for Japan’s militarist past—even as the country's politics has lurched rightwards.


The prime minister, Shinzo Abe, is among the revisionists who imagine a beautiful past. He and other ministers like to worship at the Yasukuni shrine that glorifies militarism; Akihito pointedly refuses to visit. The Economist once asked a rightist, whose publications glorify the emperor system and whitewash Japan’s wartime aggression, how he felt about having a liberal emperor who disagreed with nearly all his views. No matter, he replied: Akihito was merely the current, imperfect vessel; one day, he would pass.

And so, this week, came news that the 82-year-old would like to retire. The reign of his father, Hirohito, coincided with Japan’s transformation from militarist empire to modern economic powerhouse. Akihito’s own reign since 1989 oversaw a period of gentle economic decline and diminished capacities. Kneeling to meet his subjects at eye level seemed to acknowledge that path. Now pneumonia, prostate cancer and heart surgery have weakened him. Having to scale back official duties has caused him “stress and frustration”, says NHK, the public broadcaster, in the timorous language reserved for the imperial family.

A law must first be passed to allow Akihito to step down—nothing like this has happened in modern times. As for his son and successor, Prince Naruhito (speciality: 18th-century navigation on English waterways), he may struggle in the role. The royals are virtual prisoners of the Imperial Household Agency, the gnomic bureaucracy that runs the world’s oldest hereditary monarchy. It has treated Naruhito’s wife, Masako, a former diplomat, as an imperial birthing machine, and she has grappled with depression. Whether Naruhito would rather navigate the upper Thames than the forces that swirl around the monarchy remains unclear.


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