Wondering What’s in Stork’s Bag

On the wedding day of Crown Prince Naruhito and Princess Masako in June 1993, a trained monkey named Tsurusuke peered into a crystal ball before a television audience of millions and predicted that the couple would bear three children, the first a girl.

After an eight-year wait, a highly publicized miscarriage, endless speculation and a lot of hand-wringing, the nation is eagerly awaiting the royal couple’s first child, expected any day now.

Some with limited faith in simian insight are chiming in with their own theories. Office assistant Michiyo Takaku thinks that it’s a girl because of the round shape of the royal belly. White-collar worker Juichiro Suzuki says it’s a boy, given the palace’s ready access to sex-selection techniques. And receptionist Yoko Ukai favors twins--one of each sex--to reduce the pressure on the crown princess.

At stake is more than stupid pet tricks or fuzzy logic as all Japan waits to find out what’s under the diaper. A boy would be an undisputed heir to the 2,600-year-old Chrysanthemum Throne and would put off several contentious social issues, in a society with a marked preference for sidestepping confrontation.

A girl, particularly if it proves to be 37-year-old Masako’s only child, could be a catalyst for legal, cultural and social change at the heart of one of Japan’s most traditional institutions. This, reformers say, could in turn accelerate the redefinition of women’s roles underway in Japan’s male-dominated society.

“The imperial family’s influence on society is very strong,” says Atsuko Fujitani, president of the Japan Society of Gender Studies and a professor at Fukui Prefectural University. “A girl will boost women’s rights issues in Japan. A boy will reinforce tradition and set it back.”

At the heart of the debate is the Imperial Household Law, written more than a century ago and amended by Americans after World War II, which stipulates that only men can ascend to the throne.

Shortly after Masako’s pregnancy was announced in April, politicians and the media debated the merits of following seven European monarchies and Thailand in allowing female heirs. Recently, however, discussion has fizzled.

“We have no plans to touch the Imperial House Law” until the baby’s sex is known, Taro Aso, policy chief with the ruling Liberal Democratic Party, said this week.

Conspiracy theorists in a country weaned on back-room deals see shadows. “The politicians and bureaucrats have become way too silent all of a sudden,” says Noriko Hama, a 44-year-old nurse. “They must know it’s a boy.”

Others chalk up the silence to respect for the royal couple’s privacy. One thing is clear: Any legal change opens a royal can of worms.

Who Would Be Imperial Husband?

Even if Japan decides that it’s ready to see a woman seated at the “center of the nation,” as some conservatives call the imperial system, it’s not necessarily comfortable seeing a man take an obvious back seat.

“Who would marry her?” is one oft-asked question amid visions of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher’s husband, Dennis, at home with his apron on. And would a husband walk three steps behind a female emperor, remain in the shadows and speak only half as much as she does--all rough rules of thumb now for female royal spouses.

Another concern is cost. Unlike Britain’s independently wealthy House of Windsor, the Japanese imperial family is a direct charge of the state. That amounts to about $5.8 million in living expenses for the 24 royals plus at least $150 million more for bureaucrats, groundskeepers and a 1,000-guard retinue.

At present, adult royals not in a direct line to the throne, including women who marry commoners, must find other means of support. If females become heirs to the throne, the size of the royal dole would increase.

“If female members are supported as well, the national expense will rise and rise,” says Isao Tokoro, a history professor of Kyoto Sangyo University. “We need some sort of limit.”

More fundamentally, any noticeable modernization step risks sparking a debate on the role of the imperial family, quickly exposing deep divisions in society over militarism and World War II. “The imperial system in many ways symbolizes the conflicts in modern Japanese society,” says Takeshi Hara, associate professor with Meiji Gakuin University.

For many ordinary Japanese, however, the royal birth is nothing more complicated than a chance to express simple joy. “People really want to hear some good news now given the recession and the war on terrorism,” says Keiji Emori, an editor with the Mainichi daily newspaper and author of a book on Masako. “The birth is a break from all the gloom.”

Retail Companies Pitch Baby Products

That prospect has many Japanese companies salivating--even as they struggle to preserve a sense of decorum.

“We’re not going to jump at the opportunity to have a bargain sale,” says an official with the department store chain Isetan. “We will, however, hold a tasteful promotion of baby clothing and other items.”

Mitsukoshi, a competing chain, recently announced a “Baby Dream Festa” that includes baby-naming counseling, baby-bathing classes for new fathers, limited-edition baby carriages for $1,500 apiece and a line of sequined, bead-bedecked baby clothes for $1,250. “They’re really quite noble,” says company spokeswoman Ikuko Shinozaki.

And toy-maker Takara Co. is offering a new maternity edition of its famous Rika-chan doll, Japan’s answer to Barbie, for $24.80. “You can use a key to change Rika-chan’s stomach back to its normal shape,” explains company publicist Terumi Endo.

The Japanese media have vacillated between rabid frenzy and radio silence in their coverage. “Recently, the media have been very quiet regarding the royal baby,” says Hiroshi Fujita, journalism professor at Sophia University in Tokyo. “But the madness will start about two seconds after the birth. They’ve already prepared all the editions and are just waiting to drop in the gender.”

When Masako joined the family after a six-year courtship by the crown prince, many people had high expectations for the Oxford-, Harvard- and Tokyo University-educated career diplomat. The gifted linguist and first empress-in-waiting to hold a real job was seen as a catalyst for modernizing the fusty institution and its 1,000 micromanaging bureaucrats.

Since then, however, her low profile and deference to ancient obscure traditions have disappointed many. “We can’t even tell she was a career woman anymore,” says Miki Kodama, a 27-year-old office assistant. “It’s a real shame.”

Scholars, however, say people who held these expectations misread Masako and the institution she joined.

On a personal level, Masako has always had two sides, author Emori says. Although she’s an accomplished professional and advocate of change, she’s also modest and patient, he says. “Depending on the situation, she uses her old and new parts,” Emori says. “If she appears too strong it could work against her.”

Kumi Hara, a professional bossa nova singer and childhood friend of Masako, agrees, adding that her quiet confidence and accommodative nature were evident back when the two played softball together as young girls, with Kumi at shortstop and Masako at third. “The most attractive part about her is she always tries hard to make the atmosphere around her as comfortable as possible,” the singer says.

Structurally as well, the Japanese crown prince and princess have traditionally exercised little real power, says Ken Ruoff, assistant professor at Portland State University and author of the book “The People’s Emperor.”

“She’s about to begin her really traditional duty, the first real power she can exercise,” Ruoff says. “That’s the power to raise the heir to the throne and shape the way he or she is.”

In fact, she has a good role model in the palace. The current empress, Michiko, 67, significantly narrowed the gap between her and her subjects as the first commoner who took the then-radical step of breast-feeding and raising her children, occasionally cooking by herself and publishing her own books on child-rearing and poetry.

“These are things no empress in the past would have done,” says Donald Keene, Japanese literature expert and author of a new book on the Meiji emperor due out in English in January.

In fact, the royal obsession with testosterone is a rather recent phenomenon, says Meiji Gakuin professor Hara. Not only was the male-only provision to the current law an afterthought, scholars say, but emperors in the centuries before Japan’s 1867 modernization were also often quite effeminate.

Many followed the female custom of painting their teeth black and wearing white makeup, Hara says. They used women’s language, prided themselves on their lack of exercise and wore female-style clothing.

In fact Japan has had eight female emperors, dating as far back as 592, periods associated with peace, prosperity, even other-worldly powers. “It’s about time women recovered the power they had in ancient times,” says Fukui Prefectural University professor Fujitani.

But a closer look finds that most were place holders until the male line could reassert itself. In the last case, female Emperor Gosakuramachi in 1770 handed the job back to a 13-year-old boy. “We had eight female emperors, but they were just relief players,” says Kyoto Sangyo University historian Tokoro.

Imperial Family Can Effect Change

It’s in the imperial family’s role as the ideal Japanese family that the couple may have the greatest opportunity to effect change, some say. Something as simple as allowing the public to see the crown prince changing the baby’s diapers could leave a big impression, says Portland State University’s Ruoff. Prime Minister Tony Blair made a splash in Britain when he became a hands-on daddy last year, and such a gesture would be especially striking in Japan, where men do almost no housework and leave most child-rearing duties to their wives.

“These things help change the male consciousness toward women a great deal,” says Kimiko Yagi, professor of gender studies at Josai International University.

No matter whether the next few days produce a boy or girl and whether the monkey Tsurusuke’s prediction ultimately proves correct, there’s one thing most agree on: When it comes to Japanese royalty, don’t expect any quick shift.

“Even if Masako’s baby turns out to be a girl, it will take a lot of time to change the law allowing a female emperor,” Yagi says. “Conservative lawmakers would have 20 years until the child grows up, and I’m sure they’d put off the discussion for the full 20 years. Japanese bureaucrats and politicians always delay everything.”

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Makiko Inoue in The Times’ Tokyo Bureau contributed to this report.