The perils of being a Japanese
princess By Jamie Miyazaki
TOKYO - Blighted by its association
with Japanese militarism during World War II,
Japan's monarchy has worked hard since 1945 to recast itself
as a moderate, diligent and apolitical institution,
always understated but reliable, and normally
extremely boring. Perhaps it's a benchmark of the banal
neutrality of the institution that the crown prince has penned
a book on roads, remarking, "Since my early childhood,
I have been keenly interested in roads." Meanwhile his
younger brother has written a postscript on an equally
esoteric subject, European chickens: "We need to eat more
chicken," was one of Prince Akishino's more prescient
insights.
But the staid ambit of Japanese
imperial court life has suddenly picked up. The Japanese
royals may not be as scandalous as Britain's Windsors
have managed to be, but Japan's royal household is
facing a crisis - there is no heir apparent once the
current Crown Prince Naruhito ascends to the throne.
Only men can ascend to Japan's Chrysanthemum Throne and
no male has been born to the imperial family since the
1960s. That would leave the obvious candidate, Crown
Prince Naruhito's and Crown Princess Masako's
three-year-old daughter Aiko, out of the line of
succession.
However, with it looking less and
less likely that Crown Princess Masako, who is suffering
from a well-publicized bout of depression, will have
another child, the question on many people's minds is
whether the succession law be amended to allow Aiko to
become empress.
Certainly the idea has some
heavyweight backers. Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi
for one has signaled he is in favor of having empresses.
And he is not alone in backing a female emperor; cabinet
heavyweight and Foreign Minister Nobutaka Machimura and
Justice Minister Chieko Nono have both come out publicly
in favor of a female emperor. Polls also show that more
than 80% of the public supports changing the law.
Indeed, allowing a female emperor is not a difficult
legal matter, as it is not the constitution that
prohibits a female monarch but rather the 1947 Imperial
Household law. Technically, all that would be needed is
for the Diet (parliament) to pass a new law.
The
government has toyed with the idea and the ruling
Liberal Democratic Party's Research Commission on the
Constitution recently proposed a framework to allow a
female emperor. The government is also allegedly toying
with changing another aspect of the law that strips
female royals of their status on marrying commoners.
But
opposition to change remains strong within conservative wings
of government and the Imperial Household Agency.
Traditionalist elements are keen to hold on
to the tradition of male succession and lineage. Yet
this tradition is something of an artificial one, Japan
has had eight empresses in the past, although the last
one was back in the 18th century and none passed the
throne on to her own child. No one seems to have
pointed out to traditionalists that this also undermines
one of their claims to a 2,600-year unbroken male line.
Crown Princess Masako celebrated her 41st
birthday on December 9 by announcing a slow return to
health but she gave no indication when she would return
to public life. The crown princess suspended all
official duties and retreated from public life since
last December after first being hospitalized from a bout
of shingles and then from the stress to produce a male
heir to the throne.
In a press conference this
May just before a European tour, Naruhito told the
press, in a highly candid admission for a Japanese
royal, that Princess Masako had "completely exhausted
herself" trying to adapt to palace life since their 1993
marriage and he said, "There have been developments that
have denied Masako's career as a diplomat as well as her
personality."
While the remarks may have
provoked public sympathy, they have not gone down
particularly well with the royal family or the Imperial
Household Agency. And this wasn't the first time that
Naruhito had ruffled feathers in the low-key,
tradition-bound world of Japanese palace life. He had
also previously suggested there was a need to review and
revise royal duties in light of the changing world.
Empress Michiko, in a statement on her 70th
birthday in October, made what some interpreted to be
veiled criticism of Princess Masako: "It must be the
crown princess herself who is feeling the most pain in
her extended period of rest," she mused.
And the barbs haven't stopped there.
Prince Akishino, or Fumihito as he is also known, the second
son of Emperor Akihito, used his 39th birthday in
November to make some pointed criticisms of his elder
brother. He declared he "was surprised to no small extent,
and I heard the emperor was also very surprised"
by Naruhito's less-than-flattering appraisal of the Imperial Household
Agency earlier in the year. And to put the icing on the
cake, he added, "I think he should have only spoken
after talking to the emperor about what he planned to
say. I think it is regrettable."
For a man most
readily associated with fishing, tennis and writing
postscripts for books on European poultry, public
criticism of his elder brother was scathing stuff.
Although ever quick to downplay rumors of a royal spat,
the Imperial Household Agency denied the speculation of
discontent in the court as "groundless suspicion".
The irony, though, is that while Akishino may be
next in line for the throne, going by the current rules
an Emperor Akishino would face the same constitutional
conundrum as his elder brother. Namely, Akishino has no
male progeny to carry on the family lineage, and the
throne would then go to Prince Hitachi, the emperor's
younger brother.
With no aristocracy to provide a
pool of likely suitors and marriage to a foreign royal,
let alone a foreigner, out of the question, the choices
are limited. Throw in the strict neutrality imposed
on the family by the postwar constitution, which in
effect bars marriage into families connected to
politics or business, and marriage is certainly no easy
task for Japan's royals. Indeed, Empress Michiko was the
first commoner to marry a crown prince.
Still, it hasn't been all bad news for the
royal family of late. Princess Nori, 35,
the emperor's only daughter, will marry a
Tokyo metropolitan government official. The news was due to be
officially announced this Saturday, but the Asahi Shimbun newspaper
managed to bag a scoop on the engagement announcement in
November, and once again irk the Imperial Household
Agency, which condemned the story as "highly
inappropriate".
What much of the current fuss
and crisis over Japan's royal family boil down to is
the role of women, traditionally subordinate to men. The
conservative Imperial Household Agency and the
institution of the monarchy have to face some
tough decisions that they have managed to skirt for a long time.
Part of the joy at the news of Princess Nori's
engagement was that she finally got married, which is
seen as the ultimate objective for most women in Japan,
and preferably before the age of 30. Princess Nori had
to field a barrage of press questions for most of her
20s over her marriage plans until she made it clear she
was fed up with the constant media speculation.
If anything is a sign of the prevailing wind of
sexism that still blows through Japan, then it is the
fear by some that a female emperor could find a spouse
willing to be a subordinate royal consort. A legal
revision for a female emperor would also affect the law
that makes princesses commoners on marriage. For if a
female were eligible for succession, then this could
presumably be extended to other female royals as well.
Life isn't a ball for Japanese princesses yet.
Jamie Miyazaki is a Tokyo-based
analyst of North Asian political, strategic and economic
affairs.
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