Thirty-five years--or thereabouts: a changing of an era, revisited

A changing of the Imperial Eras: Heisei to Reiwa, a few observations

This week in Japan is probably an interesting week to resume posting. ‘Golden Week’ as it is known, is a series of public holidays from the end of April to the beginning of May. This particular week has the added ‘bonus’ of the abdication of the Emperor (Akihito) in favour of his son (Naruhito). And that transition has been one of my motivations to start posting on my 35 years associated with Japan, or random postings for an unreliable memoir. 

You see, I happened to be here in 1989 when the country moved into the Heisei era following the end of the Showa era. The week has been both interesting and a little disorienting. The 'celebrations' marking the start of the new Reiwa era have been in stark contrast to the Heisei era. Preparations for the new era got underway in 2016 when the now Emperor Emeritus (Akihito--personal names are not used in reference to members of the Imperial Family, just their titles), made a speech in which he indicated his desire to abdicate in favour of his eldest son. This had not happened in about 200 years. All transitions in modern Japanese history have happened upon the death of the Emperor, not abdication. 

And so it was in 1989. Saturday morning, 7 January, at the end of a very long and prolonged illness, the Showa Emperor died. I remember seeing the kanji characters flash up on the TV screen, we were to learn later, they were the characters to denote exclusively the 'death of the emperor' 御崩御 and very few people (including my friends at the time) had seen them before. For most Japanese people, the death of Hirohito was the first imperial death in their lifetime, he was 87, and had been on the throne for 64 years. The months leading up to January 1989 had been shrouded in a certain kind of bleakness, deepening as the Emperor's condition deteriorated. How did we know? Towards the end his vital signs were beamed into homes via TV with almost hourly updates on his pulse, blood pressure, heartbeat, and so on It was considered improper to 'celebrate' throughout much of 1988 and into 1989. New Years greetings via the customary postcards were discourages, people getting married were similarly discouraged from offering celebratory bream and other signs of 'ostentatious behaviour'. 

From Showa to Heisei to Reiwa

And so, on that Saturday morning, for a brief moment, we were 'era-less'. There was a waiting period before the new name was announced, again on TV by then Cabinet Secretary Obuchi, who went on to later become Prime Minister (and who I got the chance to interview in 1985...as a keen student of politics).  Heisei was to commence at midnight on 8 January and indeed, the next day many (myself included) went out to purchase a train ticket, not to use, but because it had the date stamp 1. 1. 8, the first year of the new era. These days, most people (including myself) have IC cards and probably haven't bought a train ticket in ten years or so. Still, I did go out and buy the papers (which I do anyway). 

The day's news

But back to 1989, the death of Hirohito, and so the Showa era, which had straddled Japan's emergent Imperialism, its colonial period, World War Two and onto massive economic growth and development, was a time for much reflection on an era in two parts. There was much reflection on what was, and what was to come and much anticipation of the type of emperor Akihito would be. 

Sensing the moment of history, my friends and I spent much of 7-8 January walking around Tokyo, taking in scenes at the Palace surrounds, the right wing conservatives, the general public, the black curtains drawn over shop windows (all faithfully recorded on film camera and photos, and stored in my archives at home). Similarly, the funeral procession through the streets of Tokyo a few weeks later garnered huge crowds lining the streets to catch a glimpse of the hearse taking the late Emperor, the man born a god but who died as a 'symbol' of the country, following defeat and demilitarisation and a new Constitution promulgated in 1947. 

It took some months to recover from the extended period of 'restraint' leading up to the death of Hirohito and for things to 'return to normal'. Akihito vowed to be a symbol of the people and his personal experience of war, having been sent to the country to avoid the worst of it, has remained a part of his reign. 

It is for another time and place to reflect on the Heisei period, so let's fast forward a bit to the point of this post, the transition this week to Reiwa.

Midnight, let the new era begin

The now Emperor Emeritus's 2016 speech set in train a number of events which required a changeover in quite different circumstances. Firstly, Akihito's speech was interpreted in some quarters as a subtle but 'symbolic' rebuke of PM Abe's push to amend the Constitution, to strengthen Japan's military. Rules had to be made to determine how the Emperor could abdicate, how the throne would be passed on to his son, how the era should be named and when this should all happen. 

So it has taken quite a while, from 2016, to now. It was announced that the naming of the new era (decided on by a committee of 'learned people') would be made public on 1 April 2019 (traditionally the start of the Japanese financial and academic year) but that the new era would not formally commence until 1 May 2019. As a result, all of April was spent talking about the 'last something or other of Heisei', something that couldn't have been uttered in 1988-89, when we were all supposed to be hoping for the emperor's health to recover... 

Where 1989 had morbid constraint as its underlying (indeed, overlaying) atmosphere, 30 April to 1 May 2019 was, well, how were people going to deal with it? Abdication was unprecedented in living memory and the only reference point for those over thirty was ascension after death. It was a topic of discussion in the classroom and the corridors at work. My students were curious that I had been in Tokyo in 1989 but not so curious, for the most part, about moving from Heisei to Reiwa. I guess that's the difference a generation makes. Nonetheless, I've set them a reflection task for when we return to class later this week. Some of my younger colleagues were also quite intrigued I'd been around 'that long'...

The new emperor receives the sacred treasures,
no women present, no women allowed...

In the end, it was a bit of a party atmosphere for the most part. People lined up at Shibuya's now (in)famous scramble crossing, there was a countdown on TV, as well as extended versions of regular programming. It was like new year celebrations, shifted to 30 April. It was, indeed, very different. Whereas in 1989 I wandered the streets taking in the history, in 2019 I was a more distant observer. As an Australian and a political scientist, I have misgivings and questions about the concept of constitutional monarchy/democracy as it is practised in the 21st century. I will watch with interest how Naruhito takes on his role, and how his wife Masako takes on hers. That will be observed in another post, as the new era settles. 

Pictures from a live broadcast by NHK

Since 1 May, it has been wall-to-wall TV dissecting every nuance, every word, every response, even down to some detailed analysis of Masako's choice of yellow in her appearance for the formal greetings to the members of the public, some 140 000 of whom stood in the heat on 4 May to wave flags and catch a glimpse of the Imperial Family, standing imperially on the balcony of the palace. 

And through the doors, to a new era

I do hope, as someone from the same generation, that Masako-sama finds some solace in her new role, after years of private (and not so private) torment.

However, given my line of work, I have to say I’ve been fortunate to have been here in Tokyo for two changes of eras. It reminds me just how long I’ve been doing this gig.

To be continued...as reflections on the role of the monarchy on the one hand, and ongoing random thoughts on engaging with Japan, for thirty-five years, or thereabouts.

A sub-blog: of infinity parts--thirty-five years, or thereabouts

Dear reader, 

It has been a while. Time (or lack thereof) has been the main culprit but that is no excuse for one who aspires to pursue a writerly life...eventually. But over the last few months I have had pause to reflect that it is now some thirty-five years since I first came to Japan, having just completed a university degree in Asian Studies, (formal graduation was to come in April the following year, it took a while back then), and very keen to get a start on looking at the country with which I had

Sun rising on a new view of life (from my office, Tokyo)

been somewhat enamoured for several years. 

The first three months were spent at a language school, intensifying my studies, using textbooks even older than the ones I'd just finished studying, and enduring what can only be described as the homestay, if not from hell, then most certainly a small detour via an off-ramp from the freeway of life. 

Fortunately, neither the classes nor the homestay lasted forever and in April 1984 I sat in on my first classes in political science at Daito Bunka University in Tokyo and the rest, as they cliche, is history. Actually, it isn't history at all unless someone writes about it so here I am. And here you are, dear reader. 

I recall reading in a foreword to a book by a Japan scholar I admire and who has been somewhat influential in my own approach to Japan, Professor Gavan McCormack, that he first came to Japan in 1962 and my first reaction was, 'gosh, before I was born!', and I thought well probably one day that will be the same for me for my students...and indeed, 1984 is a long time before many of them were born. I guess at this point, I feel it is important to put down in words what I've learnt over the years, why it takes some time to become familiar enough with another country, another culture, before you can make some inroads into understanding and, hopefully, leaving the world a little better off. 

'Thirty-five years--or thereabouts' will be the sub-blog to reflect on a number of these issues, and probably non-issues, but matters worth noting. I was just going to make it one post on the anniversary of my thirty-five years but as I thought about it, made notes, and thought a bit more, well, it grew to more than one should have to bear in a post.

I haven't spent the whole 35 years here in Japan. After that first stint as an exchange student in 1984, I returned home at the end of 1985 and completed honours at Griffith in 1986. In 1987, against my better judgement (*filed under life lessons for the young ones) I headed over to the University of Queensland to start my PhD. In April 1988 it was back to Tokyo, this time the Graduate School of Tokyo University to study International Relations and do a bit of field work for my PhD. It was back to Australia in late 1989, ostensibly to continue my PhD (the topic of which I had become quite bored with, my then-supervisor even more so--*also filed under life lessons for the young ones) but I found myself applying for and getting a job in the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, for about a year, and where I probably would have stayed if my then director hadn't promised to derail my progress through the department (*no mechanisms to cite harassment or bullying in those days--*note to those coming through now). 

So in 1991, it was back to the university, as a part-time roustabout--language tutor, research assistant, whatever was going, scraping things together. I found myself with enough resources to get back to Japan for some more research during the year, just a couple of weeks. 

There was another short work trip back to Japan in 1993, research for a series of textbooks we were writing--all royalties to the department in what I now suspect was some kind of dodgy deal--and then something of a small break when I was granted a half-time teaching position (full-time workload--precarious work in the University has a long history) which had the promise of full-time, properly, at the end of 18 months. 

Turned out, one of the lads needed a job, so at the end of 1995, despite having been timetabled into teaching the Masters degree and writing up course outlines for all my courses in 1996, that was it, out. 

I very nearly quit the University entirely...instead, I changed departments but through much of 1996 found myself unemployed and for the first time in 16 or 17 years, 'deinstitutionalised'. I found myself working in a secondhand bookshop in Brisbane, with pretty poor working conditions but work nonetheless. 

By 1997, Japan and academia were pretty much gone in my mind. What was I to make of it?

In April 1997, thrown a bit of a lifeline of sorts, I was offered a position in the office of an independent (previously ALP) senator and the latent political scientist in me, decided to take it on. Politics from the inside, I conjectured. And what a ride it was, but again, pretty far from Japan and indeed I spent some time looking at other ways to pursue a career when the position retired with the Senator in June 1999. 

So, briefly, it was back to uni. I had completed a Masters along the way and was about ready to resume the old PhD topic in a new department, with a new supervisor and a little more enthusiasm. 

Again supported by some part-time paid, full-time workload teaching and research assistant work, I managed to make it through. 

In January 2003, I took up a position at the university just north of Brisbane, straddling both my language and politics and international relations expertise, a bargain two lecturers for the price of one as it turned out. 

Still, I hadn't been back to Japan for a few years, financial reasons mostly, but I naively imagined that a full-time tenured position at a university would mean some assistance to get there, surely. With no research money available it looked bleak. At the same time, I couldn't consider myself 'authentic' if my last trip to Japan had been back in the mid-1990s. 

In 2007, I was meeting with some high school language teachers, one of whom gave me pause to rethink. She mentioned she made her way back to Italy every year, on her own money, just to brush up--here she was, a single mother on a teacher's salary and making the effort...if I kept waiting around for research 'grants' and their concomitant 'authenticity', then I'd probably never get there. 

So in 2008, I made my first trip back to Japan, under my own steam, in my own time. I endeavoured to do so every year., and did so until 2015, mostly to watch the elections close up...because? well, it is what I did. Unfortunately, given the system, none of the work I did as a result was validated because it didn't come as part of research grants (*a story of a system, broken, for another day)...

In 2015 I was offered my present post. I started in 2016. In April 2016, it was as a professor of political science; in April 2018, I was asked to become Director of International Relations and a member of the university's senior executive (just like a Pro-Vice Chancellor at home) and in April 2019, this year, I was asked to step up to be Chair of the Department of Political Science, at the start of my fourth year here in my current iteration of thirty-five years, or thereabouts. It is also like a twenty-year career trajectory squeezed into three short years. 

All of which is to say (and thank you dear reader, if you have come this far), that in 35 years, I've spent a total of just over six and a half years living in Japan, at quite different times in its history. I guess you could say there is some longitude in my engagement with this place, if not the everyday familiarity of someone who might have spent all thirty-five of those years here. But I've been engaging and observing and reflecting and thinking and it is probably time I started putting fingers to the keyboard...there is a story or three to be told. 

More to come...as they cliche.