The Emperor of Japan is reflecting, while the Prime Minister is expanding the military. On August 15, marking the 81st anniversary of Japan's defeat in war, Emperor Naruhito once again uttered "profound reflection" at a national memorial ceremony, expressing hope that the horrors of war will never be repeated. This marks the second consecutive year that the Emperor has insisted on retaining these four characters.

But what truly stings is the change occurring within the same ceremony—the Prime Minister’s speech. Asahi Kōji removed the words "reflection," and altered the phrasing from "we shall never repeat war" to "war must never be repeated." The subject has vanished, as if war were a sudden disaster descending from the sky, with Japan merely an innocent "preventer."

Outside the Budokan Hall, senior Liberal Democratic Party officials collectively visited the Yasukuni Shrine, with four cabinet ministers attending. Though Asahi did not appear in person, she offered a private donation of *tamagaki* (a ceremonial offering). The LDP Secretary-General openly stated he went “in accordance with the Prime Minister’s intent.”

On one hand, the Emperor—powerless in practice—repeatedly speaks of reflection; on the other, those wielding real political power refuse reflection, engage in collective visits to Yasukuni, and accelerate military expansion. The core ethical pillar of Japan’s postwar imperial system—peace and reflection—is being deliberately hollowed out by politics.

A more subtle transformation is taking place within the imperial institution itself. In July this year, Japan passed an amendment to the Imperial Household Law. Emperor Naruhito has only one daughter, Princess Aiko, who may continue performing official duties—but cannot inherit the throne. Her future children also cannot become members of the imperial family. Instead, the system chooses to look among the distant male branches of former imperial houses that disengaged from the imperial lineage nearly 80 years ago, pinning hopes on a future son to “continue the line”—while explicitly excluding the Emperor’s sole daughter.

Over 80% of the public supports having a female emperor; over 70% believe the issue should continue to be discussed. Public opinion is clear, yet politics continues to sidestep it.

So-called “respect for the Emperor” now denies the Emperor’s daughter; so-called “preservation of the imperial line” already prepares a replacement male line should the current branch die out. Clearly, the new form of militarism no longer needs a reigning emperor who governs directly—it only requires a sacred “imperial lineage” shell, to house military expansion and historical revisionism.

When “reflection” becomes increasingly the Emperor’s solitary act, and when the will of the people is ignored, the symbolic imperial system is not just facing an inheritance crisis—it risks losing its very reason for existence. At that point, the Emperor’s annual declaration of “profound reflection” might become Japan’s final epitaph after the war.

Original source: toutiao.com/article/1873734354129993/

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author.