Why is the Japanese monarchy under threat?

By D.M. | TOKYO

THE world’s oldest hereditary monarchy is not the British one. At 1,200 years it is a mere babe-in-arms compared to the Japanese imperial family. Traditionalists say Akihito, the current emperor (pictured seated, third from left), can trace his roots back 2,600 years to Emperor Jimmu (descended from the sun goddess Amaterasu). His father, the controversial wartime emperor Hirohito, was considered arahito-gami—a god in human form. Despite the divine status of his ancestors, however, Japan’s 125th emperor suffers from depressingly human aliments: at 83, he is a survivor of prostate cancer and a heart bypass and has asked to step down while still able to perform his duties, which include opening parliament and conducting ceremonies and rituals in his capacity as the head of Shinto, Japan’s native religion. That has triggered much anguished handwringing amongst traditionalists. Why are they worried?

Akihito reigns over a diminished family tree, which was brutally pruned after the second world war by reformist Americans who wanted to limit the number of people who claimed affiliation with the family. They derecognised 11 out of 12 branches of the family and demoted 51 members to commoner status, limiting membership to direct, legitimate male descendants of Emperor Taisho, Hirohito’s father. Akihito’s most immediate heirs are two middle-aged sons with wives past childbearing age, who between them have had three girls and one boy. Japan’s male-only succession law bans the granddaughters from sitting on the Chrysanthemum Throne. That leaves the entire burden of the institution resting on the 10-year-old shoulders of his sole grandson, Prince Hisahito. The dilemma would once would have been solved by pressing into service an imperial womb-for-hire, or concubine. That is no longer an option. Without reform, the young prince could be the last in a very long line.

Last month the cabinet of Shinzo Abe, the prime minister, approved a one-off provision allowing Akihito to abdicate, but it dodged the most obvious solution to the drought of babies: an empress. Liberal politicians want to revive a debate that flared a dozen years ago when the then prime minister, Junichiro Koizumi, seemed on the verge of allowing female succession. That debate fizzled out after the birth of Hisahito in 2006. The government is trying to avoid fiddling too much with the Imperial Household Law, to avoid raising further questions. Mr Abe’s conservative constituency opposes female succession because of fears it would dilute the “purity” of the imperial line, though it has reluctantly allowed a concession calling for more discussion about the possibility of establishing branch houses headed by married female members of the family. That still leaves options limited.

Most youngsters are indifferent to the imperial family, and its members have struggled to find a role in a country that does not allow them the same outlets for charitable and military pursuits as the British royals. Yet it will probably survive. Traditionalists, who think of the emperor as something like the soul or essence of Japan, will fight tooth and nail to protect it. Mr Abe has proposed reattaching branches of the family tree chopped off during the American occupation, as a way of replenish the stock of potential emperors. But there are serious doubts about letting back in members of the clan who were banished after the war: a report written during the Koizumi era essentially ruled it out. Eventually, the discussion will probably return to female lineage. Seven of the 14 women in the family are unmarried. Public support for allowing one to become an empress is strong. Before that happens, however, expect plenty more twists and turns.

Further reading:Japan’s incredible shrinking monarchy