This week, Japan entered a new era. The new emperor, Naruhito, succeeded the previous emperor, Akihito, while the latter was still alive, something that hasn't happened in Japan since 1817. For Japan, the Land of the Rising Sun, it was an opportunity for a "reboot" in the best sense of the word.
For years, this giant of a country has been trying to find its way out of economic stagnation, turn around its negative population growth, and above all, to combine modernity with the past and find meaning in the new world that has replaced the world of yesterday. And in Japan, which like us in Israel is a nation with an ancient history going back thousands of years, there is no simple way of doing that – not in terms of society, and not in terms of mentality.
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Events such as the enthronement of a new emperor can provide a much stronger tailwind than any economic incentive or political decision could. The people like unity, especially unity around a common goal.
Japan, which has always known how to reinvent itself, isn't despairing. This week, it proved yet again that the future is always written with the ink of the past: the enthronement of Naruhito, Japan's 126th emperor, was not a gala but an appropriate event. It was celebratory but minimalist. Impressive, but not gaudy.
He is the first emperor born in Japan after World War II, and the changing of the generational guard is palpable. The emperor's connection to his people inspires ordinary Japanese. Japan has proved that one can forge ahead while still looking back. This week, in Tokyo, the enthronement ceremony of Naruhito and Empress Masako, allowed us a privileged glimpse of the secret of Japan's magic in a single ceremony.
For years, Japan has offered amateur (as well as professional) photographers the most advanced cameras available, but woe betides anyone who uses them at the wrong place or at the wrong time. Your writer was accompanied by three representatives of the Japanese Foreign Ministry during the reception at the palace that took place a few hours after the official enthronement ceremony. On one hand, it was clear that the hosts had gone out of their way to make me feel at home in a distant country and take care of anything I needed – Japanese tradition gives great respect to foreigners and guests. But at the same time, they were there at every moment to make sure I wasn't taking pictures inside the palace.
The power of tradition
That's how it is in Japan, a country of contradictions. It is a country of great Western-style openness, combined with ancient traditions that must not be questioned. That combination makes Japan a powerful country, albeit not militarily or diplomatically. It is a country of great popular strength.
As I mentioned, photography inside the imperial palace is explicitly banned, with a few exceptions. Take, for example, the lucky Japanese photographer who was allowed to bring his camera into the palace in 1990 for the wedding of the heir to the throne. But he committed the worst sin of all – he took non-traditional pictures of the bride-to-be adjusting the future emperor's hair. The photographer, who was only authorized to take official photos, was sent away.
The previous emperor, Akihito, amazed everyone when he announced he would be stepping down, which he did in May. The reason was his advanced age and poor health, but it's likely that the previous emperor, the tribal elder in every sense of the word, felt it was time for a new generation, a new outlook, and wanted to give some inspiration to a nation that so admires symbolism and continuity as part of both personal and collective identity.
Akihito succeeded his father Hirohito, the emperor who made Japan the target of international hatred during World War II but who also cooperated with the Americans in turning Japan into the democratic and technological powerhouse it is today.
Hirohito, who is seen by many as a war criminal, died in January 1989. His death marked the end of an era of emperors. He was the first emperor who spoke on the radio so he could be heard by all Japanese citizens when he announced that the war was over. Later, he began to make the institution of the emperor more accessible to the people. But only when he died did the modern imperial era begin in earnest. His successor, Akihito, was the first in the history of Japan to raise his children at home, with his wife, rather than sending them to foster families to be raised, as was traditional.
Hirohito began his 62 years in power as a god on earth, a descendant of the goddess of the sun, just like the legendary first emperor, Jimmu. But he finished in a strictly ceremonial role that was stripped of its divinity, mostly because the Americans rewrote the Japanese constitution to ensure that the nation would never fight another war.
An emperor, but not a king
So the royal family and the rules have changed, but this week we saw that they have only changed to a certain extent. For example, only men can inherit the throne, even if the emperor's only offspring is female. Akihito went one step farther than his father when he appeared on television to address the nation after the Fukushima disaster in March 2011. He realized the scope of the catastrophe – the worst since the 1986 Chernobyl disaster in the USSR – and went to visit the injured. He was even seen talking to them like any ordinary person, kneeling down and sitting next to them on the floor.
The first emperor, Jimmu, certainly turned over in his grave at the sight of Akihito's common behavior, but he also would have been proud that he managed to create a line of continuity that lasted for thousands of years and knew hour to adapt itself to the spirit of the time.
The Fukushima disaster was a perfect expression of Japanese contrasts: on one hand, the Japanese demonstrated how resilient they were and how capable they were of sustaining crises without losing a sense of proportion, while on the other, Japanese passivity led to a deep crisis of faith in the government that had failed to address the nuclear problem in time and attempted to cover up the event.
While the Japanese emperor is the highest-ranking person in the world (and only one emperor remains), he might have the least authority of any royal family in the world. The queen of England, for example, can intervene in the formation of a government, send the parliament on recess, and even disband the parliaments of various commonwealth nations like Canada or Australia and appoint new prime ministers there. The emperor of Japan could only dream of such authority. But that is the reason why he receives a lot of credit for the government's popular moves – everyone knows that his blessing is a guarantee of their success.
For example, in honor of this week's celebrations, the government decided to expunge the criminal records of half a million Japanese citizens. The government made the decision and implemented it, but the emperor was the one who made it happen. While part of the Left in Japan are claiming that there is no longer a place for the institution of emperor and live in fear of a resurgence of Japanese aggression – even going so far as to oppose the high cost of the celebrations ($150 million) – while the Right is offended at the loss of respect for the emperor and longs for better days, the emperor came along and with a wave of his hand brushed off the debate. It's no wonder that the new imperial age is called "Reiwa" ("beautiful harmony").
The right proportions
And back to Naruhito. He was the central figure this week, but the diligent Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe (a good friend of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu) is the real star when it comes to Japan's performance in the international arena. He is also the one who managed to put on festivities that would be a milestone – perhaps even a turning point – in his long term in office.
It was Abe who gave the traditional three cries of "Banzai!" when Naruhito was crowned (the term translates to "10,000 years of life," or "long live the emperor!") It felt as if all 126 million Japanese were shouting along with him. And I joined in, too.
But this week's ceremony in Japan and everything that surrounded it, with all the strict rules, proves the longing that modern people have for holy symbolism, for symbols of the past, and particularly, for the stability of what used to be a slower world. The main thing we witnessed this week was how careful the Japanese are to protect the mystery that surrounds the emperor and his privacy. They take care to defend, and even foster, both. In Japan, there is no gossip about the royal family, and with the fact that their daily agendas are precision–timed, you'll realize the family has little time for themselves, if at all.
Naruhito even said back in 2004 that his wife, Masako, was completely worn out. Masako, a former diplomat, saw how she was being targeted by critics for talking too much or walking an inch or two in front of her husband. One must not violate the code. It would appear that imperiality takes precedence over the emperor himself.
This week, we saw an impressive religious ceremony, we saw continuity in action, we saw how 183 representatives of various countries, including the heir to the British throne, the president of Brazil, the vice president of China, the prime minister of South Korea and many others came to pay respect to the last emperor on earth. You needed to see it to believe how simple and unpretentious the event at the palace was. Impressive, exciting, but all in proportion.
Israel and Japan: Warm ties
The royal family was cordoned off, with glass separating them from the guests who were in another wing, but like us, they were watching the enthronement on giant screens. That evening at the reception, the emperor and his wife were in a separate wing. The heir to the throne and his wife were the ones who welcomed the guests. During the event, I had the privilege, along with a group of 15 Japanese journalists and photographers, of attending the reception with all the dignitaries.
Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, who had met with the Japanese prime minister earlier, was one of the last to arrive. Arab representatives from Bahrain, Oman, and Kuwait shook hands with him but didn't seem overly excited. I thought what a shame it was that Netanyahu couldn't be there, mostly because Japan loves Israel, even if they don't really know us.
Recently, Israel and Japan signed a defense deal. Abe has visited Israel twice in the past few years and bilateral trade is on the rise. In general, the two nations share a lot of history. On May 15, 1952, two weeks after the American occupation ended, Japan was the first nation in Asia to recognize the state of Israel, and Israel was the first Middle East nation to open an embassy in Japan. It was David Ben-Gurion who pushed for it. The ties have remained strong, and every Japanese I came into contact with asked me why Israel hadn't sent a representative to the enthronement.
Looking ahead
Later that evening, I found myself in the crowded Shibuya neighborhood, tired, excited, and mostly hungry. I was looking for sushi. I sat down in a restaurant. There were no waiters and no order counter. You ordered the sushi and warm sake you wanted. Next to me was a young guy who looked like he was from our neck of the woods. He asked me where I'd gotten the soy sauce and I told him he had some, too, on the tray in front of him.
"Where are you from?" I asked.
"Where are you from?" he responded.
"Israel," I answered.
"Saudi Arabia," he said.
We exchanged phone numbers.
"With your [Israel's] technology and our money, we could rule the world," he said.
Let's start with the Middle East, I thought to myself. A few minutes later, he sent me a message: "Let's arrange for each of us to visit the other's country," he wrote.
The changing world doesn't leave a conservative history lover like me much choice except to enjoy a night out in Japan and see that the past still hasn't disappeared, even if its relevance is in question. We talked about the desire to discover an old world, so with one plane ticket to Tokyo, I got the old world in the Far East, and the new world waiting for us in the Middle East. My thanks to the emperor, and three shouts of "Banzai!"
