Ritual Of U.S. Visit Comes Naturally To Japan's Emperor

WASHINGTON - Sometimes the emperor speaks. Sometimes the emperor does not. Sometimes the emperor can be spoken to. Sometimes not.

At the White House yesterday, Emperor Akihito of Japan spoke at length, waiting with majestic patience while his words were translated into English even as people grew dizzy under the broiling sun on the South Lawn.

At Arlington National Cemetery the emperor laid a wreath, silently, the ritual untainted by human speech, the only sound that of the clicking of heels, the presentation of rifles, some unintelligible military barking of commands and the bugler's heart-rendingly slow recitation of taps.

"General Gorden's not allowed to speak to the emperor," said one cemetery press aide, referring to Maj. Gen. Fred Gorden, commanding general of the U.S. Army Military District of Washington, who was escorting the emperor.

Why couldn't the general say anything?

"Some emperor thing," the aide said.

The emperor did speak at a state dinner last night, but it was "remarks," not a toast, according to a White House official. "The emperor does not toast," the official said. He added that the emperor should not be addressed as Your Highness. He's not a Highness. He's always Your Majesty.

So far the visit of Emperor Akihito and Empress Michiko has been astonishingly and perhaps refreshingly substance-free, an almost 100 percent symbolic event, unburdened by political meaning. There hasn't even been the usual attempt in the press to manufacture meaning where no meaning exists. For once everyone has relaxed enough to allow rituals to speak for themselves.

If there is any news to come from this, it is simply that Washington can still do emperors. Washington doesn't get many of them anymore. Nonetheless the protocols have been carefully passed down from long-forgotten elders. Last night the Clintons held their first state dinner, a white-tie affair. Yesterday morning's official arrival was more of a blackout affair, with several people seen dropping from the heat.

The military bands played the Japanese national anthem flawlessly. No one flew the Japanese flag upside down, though this is a hard fact to confirm. No amount of heat and humidity could wilt the troops as they stood at attention for nearly an hour. At such moments, the military shows that it is a genius not only of the art of unspeakable violence but also of ceremonial motionlessness.

The president and first lady emerged side by side from the White House, stiff and silent on the red carpet. The emperor and empress arrived by limousine. The first lady and empress walked a short distance and stopped. The president and emperor took the stage and listened to the national anthems of both nations. They stepped down onto the grass and slowly strode around, reviewing the troops. There was a 21-gun salute, then a brief, startling performance by a fife-and-drum unit.

Back onstage, Clinton spoke first.

"Your majesties visit us at a moment when it is clear that the destinies of our two peoples are inextricably linked," he said, "a moment in history when every day yields new challenges. But those challenges bring with them the opportunity for us to carve new paths together."

It was that kind of event. Harmonious.

At a strategically important moment the president performed well. There had been a fiasco when Queen Elizabeth II last visited, a lectern disaster that made it appear that a hat was giving a speech. So as Clinton finished his remarks on the South Lawn, he looked down at his feet and did something too subtle to be fathomed from the press area. Then he stepped away. The emperor moved forward, nearly disappeared behind the lectern, then with a single step rose imperially, the hidden riser delivering him to a dignified height behind the microphone.

There have been a few minor hitches: Atlanta civil-rights leader Hosea Williams stepping forward to inform the emperor that the Japanese are racist, the varied protests across from the White House, the cancellation of the Pearl Harbor visit because of political pressure back in Japan.

One other problem, mercifully corrected: The White House transcript of yesterday morning's remarks initially referred to His Majesty at one point as "Emperor Hirohito." That was Akihito's late father, who reigned during World War II.

The president may still need to work on his ceremonial walk. He looks uncomfortable with his arms straight at his side and his legs moving in steady rhythm. The emperor has the walk cold. He canters contentedly. There is no juke or jive in his stride. His wave is small and regal, like Queen Elizabeth's.

The Japanese press is not so perfectly mannered. At the Tomb of the Unknowns, a number of the Japanese journalists declined to remain in one roped-off area and dashed to a better vantage point, despite the commands of the flummoxed American military personnel.

The lieutenant colonel in charge of the event became most animated at the breakdown in media control.

"Sir, they do what they want to do," an exasperated sergeant told the lieutenant colonel.

"I don't care," said the lieutenant colonel. "If they go over the rope line, stop them!"

The lieutenant colonel started to stalk away, then turned and said, "If I need to get some big soldiers to stop them, I'll do it."

Today the emperor and empress will visit Great Falls Elementary School, the National Academy of Sciences and the Library of Congress, after which the emperor will go to the National Museum of Natural History to meet with ichthyologists. The emperor is himself a world-renowned ichthyologist, so perhaps for a few minutes he can be just a fish expert rather than His Majesty of the Chrysanthemum Throne.