ChiaraC
Aristocracy , Royal Blogger
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2. “Denial of personality”... continued:
That means, the stress Masako was under was not caused by overwork. The problem could rather be compared to that of an Olympic sprinter who is, all of a sudden, banned from moving at all. You probably know that this would not be but disagreeable and frustrating for such a person, but downright dangerous for his or her body. Of course, in Masako´s case you could argue that although it must have been hard and a severe shock in the beginning, after nearly 20 years, she should have gotten somewhat used to this state of royal inertia.
One has to admit that Masako has indeed a lot of practice in growing accustomed to a variety of new environments and new living conditions. She was born in Tokyo in 1963, went to live with her parents in Moscow when she was two and attended kindergarten there. Then her father, Hisashi Owada, became first secretary in the Japanese department of the UN. The family passed the next three years in New York, and Masako went there to school and learnt to speak English as her next foreign language, after Russian. When little Masako came home from school, her work was by far not done: the parents were concerned that their daughters should not lose contact with their native culture and saw to it that they practiced Japanese in their spare time. But in spite of all her efforts, Masako could, upon her return to Japan in 1971, not pass the entrance test to enter Denenchofu Futaba, a private girls' school in Tokyo, that her mother had already attended when she was a girl. So many things seemed new and unfamiliar to Masako in her birth country: She had no clue which year it was according to the Japanese calendar (Showa 46), and she piteously asked her mother why little girls who played with boys were being ridiculed in Japan? But after a year of private tutoring, Masako did the test again and was accepted. She staid there from elementary school through her second year of senior high school.
In 1979, her father became a guest professor at Harvard University and vice ambassador to the United States, so the family moved to Boston. The change was stressful for all of them. Father Hisashi had to hold his lectures in English, and was constantly busy with preparing for them. Masako´s little twin sisters had problems at school because they had forgotten a lot of their English. Their mother was permanently busy supporting and encouraging them. Also for Masako the change was by no means easy. But although she had problems as well, the problems of the other family members seemed so much more grave than hers. So, she made efforts to overcome her difficulties by herself. She spent most of her time by working for school. (That is how she got her nickname: “hardworker Masako”…) The trouble was well rewarded: on graduation from high school, she won a prize as one of the best pupils. Then she successfully took the entrance tests of several of the best universities in the US and could choose where she wanted to go. (She chose Harvard.)
Why do I recount this story? Because I want to show that Masako successfully adapted to various cultural environments, various institutions of education and even to a degree, to various value systems. At a very young age, she had experienced more changes than many other people experience in a lifetime, and she had not only survived the challenges but profited from them. There had always been one constant factor, though, one instrument she could always use and that would never let her down. When she was in trouble and did not know how to succeed, there was one last resort she could always cling to: hard work would always be rewarded.
But after Masako became crown princess, this one comforting sentence did not seem to hold true any more. For one thing, she was not given much work, at least not what she was used to call work. Most of the time, she was mainly expected to walk three steps behind her husband, smile and say as little as possible. (And after a few years had passed, most of the time not even that, as I have recounted above.) When she did have an opportunity to use her skills, she did not gain applause but rather criticism for showing them. You have probably heard the story of how she got herself into trouble at an official dinner on occasion of a G8-meeting, soon after her wedding: She was seated between then-presidents Bill Clinton and Boris Yeltsin and chatted in fluent English and Russian with both. Far from being positively impressed, a royal watcher sourly commented, "The Imperial Family are not ambassadors. She doesn't need to be able to speak English, she has interpreters for that. Her job is to smile."
Masako sincerely tried to adapt to the new environment and and did her best to be a good crown princess. (1 ** 2 ** 3 ** 4 ** 5 ** 6 ** 7 ** 8 ** 9 ** 10) But it must have soon become shockingly clear to her that extraordinary efforts or skills were not being required. Nobody wanted her to work hard, in whatever way. It was quite sufficient most of the time if she was just there and looked nice. The only chance she had to prove herself a good crown princess was by falling pregnant. But, alas, this one thing was beyond her control. All her skills, her commitment and her hard work were completely useless. Nothing that she could do was wanted, and the only thing that was required of her she could not perform. If you consider this situation of hers, it is hardly surprising that, after just a few years, rumours were being heard of the crown princess being depressed. The feelings of complete powerlessness and incapacity must have been overwhelming. She was used to difficult situations. But she was not used to the thought that there was absolutely nothing she could do to change them, no matter how hard she tried. Accordingly, one could say that it is not so surprising that Masako would have fallen into depression, but rather, that this did not happen earlier.
Masato Kanda, a government official who went to the University of Tokyo and Oxford University with Masako, once said that the crown princess has „a natural sense of mission to contribute to Japan's diplomacy and help this country obtain an honorable position in the international community“. I think the princess as well as her husband are concerned because most young Japanese seem to be disinterested in the monarchy. Accordingly, the couple want to make efforts to keep the monarchy meaningful even to future generations. Masako´s doctors proposed already some years ago that arrangements should be made for the princess to engage in public duties where she could take advantage of the expertise and experiences she accumulated before her marriage. If she could feel herself useful again by taking up a social cause or helping disadvantaged children, this might have a healing effect on her condition.
Unfortunately, it is not very probable that this will happen. Conservatives want Japan´s imperial family to stay as it was -- remote, untouchable and mysterious, passive symbols of a mythical “Japaneseness”.
To be continued
That means, the stress Masako was under was not caused by overwork. The problem could rather be compared to that of an Olympic sprinter who is, all of a sudden, banned from moving at all. You probably know that this would not be but disagreeable and frustrating for such a person, but downright dangerous for his or her body. Of course, in Masako´s case you could argue that although it must have been hard and a severe shock in the beginning, after nearly 20 years, she should have gotten somewhat used to this state of royal inertia.
One has to admit that Masako has indeed a lot of practice in growing accustomed to a variety of new environments and new living conditions. She was born in Tokyo in 1963, went to live with her parents in Moscow when she was two and attended kindergarten there. Then her father, Hisashi Owada, became first secretary in the Japanese department of the UN. The family passed the next three years in New York, and Masako went there to school and learnt to speak English as her next foreign language, after Russian. When little Masako came home from school, her work was by far not done: the parents were concerned that their daughters should not lose contact with their native culture and saw to it that they practiced Japanese in their spare time. But in spite of all her efforts, Masako could, upon her return to Japan in 1971, not pass the entrance test to enter Denenchofu Futaba, a private girls' school in Tokyo, that her mother had already attended when she was a girl. So many things seemed new and unfamiliar to Masako in her birth country: She had no clue which year it was according to the Japanese calendar (Showa 46), and she piteously asked her mother why little girls who played with boys were being ridiculed in Japan? But after a year of private tutoring, Masako did the test again and was accepted. She staid there from elementary school through her second year of senior high school.
In 1979, her father became a guest professor at Harvard University and vice ambassador to the United States, so the family moved to Boston. The change was stressful for all of them. Father Hisashi had to hold his lectures in English, and was constantly busy with preparing for them. Masako´s little twin sisters had problems at school because they had forgotten a lot of their English. Their mother was permanently busy supporting and encouraging them. Also for Masako the change was by no means easy. But although she had problems as well, the problems of the other family members seemed so much more grave than hers. So, she made efforts to overcome her difficulties by herself. She spent most of her time by working for school. (That is how she got her nickname: “hardworker Masako”…) The trouble was well rewarded: on graduation from high school, she won a prize as one of the best pupils. Then she successfully took the entrance tests of several of the best universities in the US and could choose where she wanted to go. (She chose Harvard.)
Why do I recount this story? Because I want to show that Masako successfully adapted to various cultural environments, various institutions of education and even to a degree, to various value systems. At a very young age, she had experienced more changes than many other people experience in a lifetime, and she had not only survived the challenges but profited from them. There had always been one constant factor, though, one instrument she could always use and that would never let her down. When she was in trouble and did not know how to succeed, there was one last resort she could always cling to: hard work would always be rewarded.
But after Masako became crown princess, this one comforting sentence did not seem to hold true any more. For one thing, she was not given much work, at least not what she was used to call work. Most of the time, she was mainly expected to walk three steps behind her husband, smile and say as little as possible. (And after a few years had passed, most of the time not even that, as I have recounted above.) When she did have an opportunity to use her skills, she did not gain applause but rather criticism for showing them. You have probably heard the story of how she got herself into trouble at an official dinner on occasion of a G8-meeting, soon after her wedding: She was seated between then-presidents Bill Clinton and Boris Yeltsin and chatted in fluent English and Russian with both. Far from being positively impressed, a royal watcher sourly commented, "The Imperial Family are not ambassadors. She doesn't need to be able to speak English, she has interpreters for that. Her job is to smile."
Masako sincerely tried to adapt to the new environment and and did her best to be a good crown princess. (1 ** 2 ** 3 ** 4 ** 5 ** 6 ** 7 ** 8 ** 9 ** 10) But it must have soon become shockingly clear to her that extraordinary efforts or skills were not being required. Nobody wanted her to work hard, in whatever way. It was quite sufficient most of the time if she was just there and looked nice. The only chance she had to prove herself a good crown princess was by falling pregnant. But, alas, this one thing was beyond her control. All her skills, her commitment and her hard work were completely useless. Nothing that she could do was wanted, and the only thing that was required of her she could not perform. If you consider this situation of hers, it is hardly surprising that, after just a few years, rumours were being heard of the crown princess being depressed. The feelings of complete powerlessness and incapacity must have been overwhelming. She was used to difficult situations. But she was not used to the thought that there was absolutely nothing she could do to change them, no matter how hard she tried. Accordingly, one could say that it is not so surprising that Masako would have fallen into depression, but rather, that this did not happen earlier.
Masato Kanda, a government official who went to the University of Tokyo and Oxford University with Masako, once said that the crown princess has „a natural sense of mission to contribute to Japan's diplomacy and help this country obtain an honorable position in the international community“. I think the princess as well as her husband are concerned because most young Japanese seem to be disinterested in the monarchy. Accordingly, the couple want to make efforts to keep the monarchy meaningful even to future generations. Masako´s doctors proposed already some years ago that arrangements should be made for the princess to engage in public duties where she could take advantage of the expertise and experiences she accumulated before her marriage. If she could feel herself useful again by taking up a social cause or helping disadvantaged children, this might have a healing effect on her condition.
Unfortunately, it is not very probable that this will happen. Conservatives want Japan´s imperial family to stay as it was -- remote, untouchable and mysterious, passive symbols of a mythical “Japaneseness”.
To be continued
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