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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