Japan's Crown Prince Signals Discomfort With Male-Only Succession Law

Crown Prince Akishino stood before cameras on Thursday and said something a member of Japan's imperial family is rarely supposed to say: that he harbors doubts about the government's own law. The younger brother of Emperor Naruhito, and next in line for the throne, expressed what he called "mixed feelings" about a revision to the Imperial House Law that the conservative government of Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi had just pushed through—a revision that enshrines a principle as old as modern Japan itself: only men can become emperor.

"I believe there is no difference between men and women" in fulfilling the roles required of the imperial family, Akishino said at a news conference held ahead of a trip to Paraguay to commemorate the 90th anniversary of Japanese emigration there. The statement was careful, measured, the language of someone acutely aware of the constraints placed on his position. He acknowledged the tension directly: "I have mixed feelings about it, and it's rather strange if I don't." Yet he also retreated into the bounds of what an imperial family member can safely say. "It is a difficult question, and the reality is that I can't talk about it."

What Akishino could not fully articulate, the law itself makes brutally clear. The revision excludes his own niece, Princess Aiko, from the line of succession. She is 24 years old, widely popular across Japan, and by most measures the person many Japanese citizens would prefer to see inherit the throne. But she is a woman, and under the new rule, that disqualifies her entirely. Instead, the crown will pass from Naruhito to Akishino, then to Akishino's 19-year-old son, Prince Hisahito. After him comes the emperor's 90-year-old uncle. The math is stark: the imperial family is shrinking, aging, and the law has just made it smaller still.

The revision itself contains two major changes. The first allows princesses who marry commoners to retain their imperial status and continue performing royal duties—a modest concession that nonetheless keeps their husbands and children outside the royal family entirely. The second, more controversial provision permits the adoption of unmarried male descendants, aged 15 or older, from distant branches of the imperial line into the immediate royal family, but only if they trace their lineage through the paternal line. This mechanism is designed to produce heirs, to solve the succession crisis by reaching into the family tree and pulling down distant male relatives.

The law has ignited protests. Critics argue it is not merely anachronistic but deliberately constructed to eliminate Princess Aiko from power while simultaneously codifying discrimination against women and cementing a patriarchal system into law. The irony is not lost on observers: Japan has had eight female monarchs in its history. The most recent was Empress Gosakuramachi, who ruled from 1762 to 1770. The male-only succession rule itself is far younger than the institution it governs—it was first written into law in 1890, when Japan was actively promoting patriarchal systems. That 1890 law was largely carried forward into the current Imperial House Law of 1947, where it has remained ever since.

Akishino's public ambivalence carries weight precisely because he is not supposed to have it. Imperial family members are expected to remain above politics, to embody the institution rather than critique it. Yet here was the man who will almost certainly be emperor, saying that society must continue to progress, that people with different views should keep thinking about what is best. He was threading a needle—acknowledging the legitimacy of the question without directly challenging the government that had just answered it.

There is also a shadow cast by history. Former Emperor Akihito, who abdicated in 2019, spent his reign trying to bring the monarchy closer to the Japanese people, to make amends for the legacy of the Second World War and to modernize an institution that had long seemed distant and untouchable. His son Naruhito has followed that path. The new succession law, with its emphasis on patriarchal bloodline and its exclusion of a popular female heir, sits uneasily against that legacy of opening and reconciliation. What the government has solidified in law, the next emperor appears to be quietly questioning.