The long tsuyu rainy season is now over, to be quickly followed by full-fledged summer. It is also a season of hot politics in Japan, where two major elections—for upper house members and the governor of Tokyo—were carried out in rapid succession last month. Another election is scheduled in September for the new head of the leading opposition Democratic Party. Meanwhile in the US, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump are fiercely vying for the presidency, blaming each other for America’s ills.

　　　　　But what weighs most heavily on the minds of all Japanese now is the longer term state of the nation. At this very moment, we are anxiously waiting for Emperor Akihito to speak directly to us concerning his feelings about the present and future of the Imperial Household. The speech apparently may come on August 8 or in the days around August 15. I earnestly look forward to his words, which I expect will amply reflect his views of Japanese history and culture beyond just his personal sentiments. A number of Japanese have already started to speculate that he will abdicate the throne, but I firmly believe that, regardless of our individual political inclinations, we should wait quietly until he speaks his mind, reminding ourselves to strictly refrain from trying to take political advantage of the situation.

　　　　　At this time, as we Japanese seriously consider what type of a nation Japan should strive to be, I wish to recommend two mind-expanding books for summer reading. Neither is a newly published book, offering no direct solutions to the problems confronting us, but both more than deserve to be read—or reread—if one has already read them before. One is Emperor Showa’s Monologue (Showa Tenno Dokuhaku-roku) (Bungei Shunju Ltd.: 1990) now available in paperback.

　　　　　This book is a compilation of the recollections that Hirohito, the Emperor of the Showa era (1926-1989), related to his aides for more than 100 hours over five sessions from March through April 1946. In his own words, the Emperor describes in great detail what he as a constitutional monarch thought during the Greater East Asian War and under the American occupation following the first-ever defeat Japan suffered in its history.

　　　　　The book refers to more than a few cases which convince the reader that Emperor Showa had a superb grasp of the international geopolitics of his time. Take his reaction to the Lytton Report on Manchuria released by the League of Nations on October 2, 1932, for instance. The Report concluded that Japan’s incursion into Manchuria had been an invasion. Simultaneously, however, it held the view that Japanese national interests in Manchuria were of a special nature and that, because the Manchurian situation was highly complicated, it was difficult to determine the causes of the conflict or to what extent Japan’s actions were justifiable—or right or wrong. In other words, the Lytton Report contained information that was not altogether as disadvantageous to Japan as was generally perceived in Japan at the time.

“Japan Must Pursue Peace”

　　　　　As regards the Report, Emperor Showa states: “I consulted with (elder statesmen) Shinken Makino and Kinmochi Saionji, thinking that I would accept every statement in the Report without questioning.” Both of them were in a position to advise the Emperor on domestic and international affairs as genro, elder statesmen.

　　　　　Against the will of Emperor Showa, however, Japan headed down the path of international isolation, rejecting the Lytton Report and seceding from the League of Nations. Rather than choosing such a path, Emperor Showa thought Japan should accept the Report and remain a member of the international community. But Saionji held him back, reminding him that the secession had already been approved by the cabinet.

　　　　　In looking back over that phase of modern Japanese history, a significant number of Japanese, including myself, are convinced that Japan should not have left the international body. Foreign Minister Yosuke Matsuoka, who declared Japan’s withdrawal, walked out of the League of Nations Assembly in Geneva on February 23, 1933. Matsuoka was given a hero’s welcome on his return to Japan. Terrifying was the jingoistic public opinion at the time that passionately backed Japan’s withdrawal from the international body.

　　　　　As regards the Tripartite Pact between Germany, Italy, and Japan that Matsuoka signed as Foreign Minister in September 1940, Emperor Hirohito has this to say:

　　　　　“I eventually had to agree with the decision, but I was far from satisfied.”

　　　　　At the time, the top brass of the Imperial Navy, including Admirals Mitsumasa Yonai, Isoroku Yamamoto, and Shigeyoshi Inoue, were strongly opposed to the pact along with other military leaders well versed in America’s military and economic capabilities and the European situation. However, Nazi Germany sent an emissary to Tokyo on September 7, 1940, and the Cabinet approved the pact just nine days later on September 16. This appallingly rash turn of events constituted another concrete example of the sorry lack of a deliberately thought-out strategy on the part of the Japanese government.

　　　　　In the meantime, Emperor Showa expressed his opposition to the tripartite alliance more than a few times. He told Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe: “Can the future of this nation be secure by forming a close alliance with such nations as Germany and Italy? After all is said and done, I am still genuinely concerned about the future of this nation. Perhaps my generation will not be too seriously affected, but what about generations to come? Will they really be secure?”

　　　　　Despite the direction Japan was taking against his wishes, however, Emperor Hirohito would not dare interfere with politics, standing firm on his principle of a constitutional monarch reigning but not ruling. How much self-restraint did the Emperor need under such circumstances! It certainly is not a task cut out for an ordinary human being.

　　　　　Then came September 6, 1940, when a council was held before the Emperor to decide on a move crucial for Japan, i.e., whether or not Japan should wage a war against the US. Pertaining to the proposal from the Supreme Command Staff which clearly favored war over diplomacy, he points out it was “highly regrettable that you are devoid of any plans except war.” To show his will for peace, the Emperor then recites a well-known poem written prior to the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905) by Emperor Meiji, his grandfather:

　　　　　“Surrounded by waters, why must a sea of friendship become a turbulent ocean of war?”

　　　　　It was his way of expressing his earnest hope that Japan would pursue peace instead of a war against the US. However, Prime Minister Konoe took no action to carry out the Emperor’s intentions.

　　　　　In April of 1942, four months after Japan opened hostilities against the US, the Japanese government sent Ken Harada as ambassador plenipotentiary to the Vatican on a mission to cement relations with Pope Pius XII. “Harada’s mission was my idea,” Emperor Showa remarks, adding:

　　　　　“I asked (Prime Minister Hideki) Tojo to dispatch Harada to the Vatican, because I thought keeping in touch with the Vatican would prove beneficial to Japan when the ongoing war reached its final stage. It would also be useful in terms of collecting information on the international community. I also took into consideration the immense power of spiritual influence that the Vatican commands around the world.”

　　　　　A nation must naturally think in terms of how to eventually end hostilities just as soon as a war breaks out. And yet, Japan sadly lacked such a strategy, which was a significant reason why it was ultimately defeated. In his Monologue, Emperor Hirohito recalls: “Those were agonizing months, with no people around me to advocate or believe in peace.”

Strength and Beauty of Japan

　　　　　Today, seventy-five years later, is Japan a completely different nation? While no one would argue against the critical importance of striving for peace, how many of us are prepared to take the necessary steps to actually ensure our security? While an earlier generation may have been too eager to fight, are people today not eager enough to do what is necessary? In this day and age, when our society has undergone such a large sea change, one cannot but consider the huge ripples Emperor Akihito’s remarks will undoubtedly cause across Japan, be they about his abdication or other matters.

　　　　　I wonder if it is because I am Japanese that I am so nervous waiting for the Emperor’s statement—the words of a man who has rigidly disciplined himself as a constitutional monarch as much as—or perhaps even more than—his father, the Showa Emperor.

　　　　　The other book I wish to recommend is entitled Selfless Japanese (Mushi no Nihon-jin) (Bungei Shunju Ltd.; 2012) by historian Michifumi Isoda. In his work, Isoda writes about the real-life stories of three Japanese who lived beautiful and earnest lives during the Edo period (1603-1868). In fact, the lives of the trio are so fascinating that one almost wonders if Isoda has written a work of fiction.

　　　　　The common thread that links the stories is the values that guided them to live selflessly for the happiness of others. Isoda’s book touches one’s heart all the more strongly today because our values have changed so significantly. It is these old values that we ｍust now call on as we face the increased risks of our rapidly changing world. The two books that I have recommended for your reading pleasure this summer will explain what really constitutes the source of our strength and beauty as a nation.

(Translated from “Renaissance Japan” column no. 716 in the August 8-11 combined issue of The Weekly Shincho)