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.
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).
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.
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'...
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.
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.
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.
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).
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| 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 |
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'...
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| The new emperor receives the sacred treasures, no women present, no women allowed... |
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| Pictures from a live broadcast by NHK |
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| 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.
