Japan A Delicate Burial

By William R. Doerner

For a weekend Japan mourned the late Emperor Hirohito. But by Monday morning it was business as usual. Proving that few events, not even the death of an imperial leader who reigned for more than six decades, can turn off their entrepreneurial juices for long, eager businessmen besieged a Justice Ministry office to stake claim to use of the word Heisei (achieving universal peace), the name chosen to designate Emperor Akihito's reign. On Monday the Tokyo Stock Exchange's Nikkei average climbed to 31,006.51, an all-time high.

Akihito too took up his imperial duties. Dressed in a morning coat, he gave an audience to 243 government officials and their spouses. Speaking in ordinary Japanese rather than the stylized court language favored by his father at his accession, Akihito promised to follow Japan's 1947 democratic constitution.

The audience was just one of 20 ceremonies leading to Hirohito's state funeral on Feb. 24. That rite has provoked some consternation abroad, as more than 100 nations decide who will attend. For some countries that fought against Japan during World War II or suffered savage casualties in Japanese prison camps, the choice is by no means simple, even 45 years later. They must weigh the political cost of offending veterans against the damage that could result from bruising the sensitivities of a country that plays a commanding role in the world economy.

The selection of a funeral delegation touched a nerve in the Netherlands, which lost 30,000 people as a result of the Japanese occupation of the former Dutch East Indies, now Indonesia. Veterans groups are demanding that the delegation leader rank no higher than ambassador. China, overrun and occupied by the Japanese for nearly a decade, put off naming a delegation, but officials there say top leaders will not go to Tokyo.

A fierce battle raged in Australia, where some veterans groups denounced Hirohito as the "biggest war criminal on earth." Said Bruce Ruxton, Victorian president of the Returned Services League: "Going to his funeral would be like going to the funeral of the devil." Prime Minister Bob Hawke skirted a decision by acceding to protocol, which does not usually require the Australian head of government to attend the funeral of a head of state.

Britain sought to straddle the divide by naming Prince Philip, who as a naval lieutenant accompanied his uncle Lord Mountbatten to the Japanese surrender ceremonies in 1945. Philip's war credentials partly defused the issue, but the president of the National Federation of Far Eastern Prisoners of War Association, Harold Payne, reportedly said Mountbatten "would turn in his grave" if he knew of the Prince Consort's plans. Likely to roil the waters further is an upcoming BBC documentary contending that Hirohito must have known of the 1937 rape of Nanking, in which Japanese troops butchered at least 20,000 Chinese, and that he knew at least a month beforehand of the plan to attack Pearl Harbor.

Other victims of the Axis have opted to put the past behind them. The Philippines, which suffered a bloody, one-sided defeat and a brutal occupation by imperial Japan, will send President Corazon Aquino. Indonesia will send President Suharto. Most of Japan's modern-day trading partners seem to share the magnanimity -- and pragmatism -- of incoming U.S. President George Bush. While a Navy bomber pilot, he was shot down over the Pacific by Japanese gunners, but he professes to hold no grudge. Bush was among the first Western leaders to announce he will attend Hirohito's funeral. To those who objected, Bush explained, "What I'm symbolizing is not the past, but the present and future, by going there." The Japanese, who have chronicled the debates abroad, welcomed the American decision.

Most Japanese, convinced that most of the nations that count are behaving with propriety, have paid little attention to the foreign debates. As for Hirohito's war guilt, the matter received a round of fresh attention after the Emperor fell ill in September. When his death halted regular programming for two days, Japanese television devoted extensive coverage, including rarely seen war footage, to Hirohito's career. But Japan seemed disinclined to indulge in an orgy of self-examination. Viewers bored with the special shows flooded video-rental stores across the country. Many Japanese worry less about an old war than about who will foot the $74.4 million bill for Hirohito's funeral.

With reporting by Barry Hillenbrand/Tokyo, with other bureaus