The Moon at Its Zenith: Power, Margiela, and the Illusion of the Discerning Hub

I. The Zenith of the Network

"No matter how you look at it, isn't that just Fujiwara no Michinaga?" Yoshihiko Noda, the former co-representative of the Moderate Reform Coalition, recently made an intriguing comparison. Discussing the revision of the Imperial House Law, Noda likened Taro Aso, the Vice President of the Liberal Democratic Party, to Fujiwara no Michinaga. Since Aso is the biological older brother of Princess Nobuko (consort of Prince Tomohito of Mikasa), the insinuation is that the Aso family could become the modern maternal relatives of the imperial line, gaining proximity and influence much like the historical Fujiwara clan.

Fujiwara no Michinaga (966–1027) was a prominent aristocrat of the mid-Heian period. Most recently, he was portrayed by Tasuku Emoto in the 2024 NHK Taiga drama Dear Radiance (Hikaru Kimi e), cast as the "soulmate" of the protagonist, Murasaki Shikibu, played by Yuriko Yoshitaka. For what it's worth, I consider this the finest Taiga drama in recent years.

Michinaga utilized his position as Regent—the Emperor's chief advisor—to marry off his daughters to successive emperors. By placing the resulting princes on the throne, he perfected "Regency Politics" (Sekkan Seiji), cementing his power as the maternal grandfather of the sovereign. The pinnacle of this splendor came in 1018, when three of his daughters simultaneously held the title of empress or consort to three different emperors—an unprecedented feat known as Ikka Sango.

On that night, a grand banquet was held at Michinaga's estate. It was there that he famously composed an impromptu waka poem: "This world, I think, is indeed my world. The full moon, after all, lacks nothing."

Intriguingly, this very poem resurfaced in the most unexpected of places: the notorious "Epstein Files". To be clear, the Epstein Files refer to the massive cache of investigative and judicial documents compiled during the prosecution of the American financier Jeffrey Epstein for the sex trafficking of minors, which have been made public in recent years.

In an email dated September 7, 2016, at 11:50 AM, Martin A. Nowak, a professor of mathematical biology at Harvard, wrote to Joi Ito. The email was CC’d to Jeffrey Epstein himself. Nowak introduced an English translation of Michinaga’s poem, explaining the historical context (the achievement of Ikka Sango) and its meaning:
This poem was composed at the party to celebrate his daughter's accession. He expressed his delight to win power in this poem.

And yet, this email led nowhere. Nowak is currently on administrative leave due to his close ties to Epstein and the massive donations Epstein made to his Harvard research program. Of course, "being close to Epstein" is distinct from "complicity in Epstein's crimes".

Nowak’s research focuses on "describing evolution through mathematics," with a core theme centered on "cooperation." He sought to mathematically formulate the conditions under which cooperative individuals thrive, how human networks are structured, and why people help others at their own expense.

What was Nowak trying to read into Michinaga's ancient verses? The intersection between the zenith of Heian power and Jeffrey Epstein. Whether they realized the profound nature of this intersection remains a mystery, but Joi Ito—a man capable of interpreting such elevated, complex narratives—was undoubtedly a rare kind of digital network socialite.

While the depth of Ito’s relationship with Epstein remains murky, there is no doubt he belonged to a highly questionable network. Yet, a stark fact remains: one of Japan's most prominent digital tastemakers has vanished from the public stage. In the economy of networks, the loss of a hub is no small matter—for the presence of a discerning eye is everything.

II. The Écriture of the Tastemaker

Lately, those who wear Martin Margiela have become a topic of quiet conversation. Not naming names is, of course, the primary drawback of polite gossip.

Martin Margiela is both the name of the brand established in 1988 and the man who founded it. Born in Belgium on April 9, 1957, he graduated from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp, one of the world's top fashion schools. He famously chose to remain entirely behind the scenes, refusing media interviews—an anonymity that surely added to his mystique.

Margiela’s designs are legendary for the four white stitches on the back of his garments and the numbered tags. He is a pioneer of deconstruction—exposing linings, raw seams, and dismantling the very architecture of clothing. To put it bluntly, his work was heavily influenced by Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons, who took the 1980s Paris fashion scene by storm.
From 1997 to 2003, Margiela also served as the creative director for Hermès ready-to-wear. The pieces from this era are now highly coveted collector's items. If my wallet had allowed, there were many pieces I would have loved to own.

However, Margiela retired in 2009. Although John Galliano took the helm in 2014 and restored the brand to commercial success, it became a different beast entirely, divorced from its founding philosophy of deconstruction and anonymity. To wear Margiela today while pretending to subscribe to its original intellectual pedigree strikes me as somewhat hypocritical.

In 2020, the legendary anime director and master of adaptation Mamoru Oshii was featured in Nikkei BP's "Learning Modern History Through Film," in a Q&A format. Commenting on the 007 films, Oshii remarked: "In Spectre, Daniel Craig looks a bit too stout, and the suit just doesn't look right. The top button is pulled so tight it looks like it's bursting. You can't let yourself get that out of shape."

Regrettably, this comment reveals that Oshii understands nothing about fashion—and the sycophantic Nikkei BP interviewer was no better.
Craig's wardrobe in this era was designed by Tom Ford. Ford’s suits are meticulously engineered: high shoulders, an aggressively nipped waist, and a silhouette that elongates the legs. Crucially, when the top button is fastened, the jacket is designed to pull slightly, creating deliberate tension creases at the waist. It is not a sign of a tight suit; it is a design feature. In a franchise like 007, where the protagonist is a walking billboard, no stylist would allow a poorly fitted suit due to weight gain.

Perhaps because fashion is dismissed as frivolous, this blatant misinformation was published on a major media site without the slightest fact-checking.

This same blind deference to authority plagues high-profile media interviews. I find myself deeply skeptical of journalists who uncritically elevate the primatologist Juichi Yamagiwa and the social philosopher Tatsuru Uchida as "intellectual giants."

Yamagiwa is a pioneer in using gorilla research to re-examine "coexistence" and the "essence of society." Yet, he has failed to provide a satisfactory explanation for the approximately 1.1 billion yen in unauthorized expenditures that occurred under his nose at Kyoto University's Primate Research Institute. If one cannot maintain basic institutional governance over one's own house, how can we trust their high-minded academic theories to be practically applied to the complexities of modern human society?

Similarly, Uchida's claim that "at NHK, rebellious spirits have been relegated to documentaries, leaving only 'cowards' in the news division" is a simplistic, outdated fantasy of a monolithic evil. An institution is a massive, complex overlap of multiple networks. Uchida’s logic is on par with the vulgar conspiracy theories found on social media.

It is time for the media to stop relying on the authority of "historic names" and start questioning the facts and consistency of the words they broadcast.

In contrast, Hanae Mori, a pioneer of Japanese fashion, left us a story that embodies true écriture—a life that serves as its own testament of style.
In the 1960s, Mori traveled to Paris and had a suit custom-made by Coco Chanel herself. When the miniskirt craze hit, Mori boldly took a pair of shears and cut the skirt well above the knee. Chanel herself was notoriously conservative about hemlines, insisting that "ugly knees should be hidden." But Mori refused to bow to the authority of the brand. She captured the spirit of the times and rewrote the style with her own hands. Years later, when Chanel’s archive requested the suit for a retrospective, Mori laughed and said, "Of course, I couldn't lend it to them—I had cut it up!"

The contrast between the fake connoisseurs who merely consume brands and titles as status symbols, and Hanae Mori, who lived her own écriture, could not be more striking.

III. What the Full Moon Portends

Fujiwara no Michinaga’s poem was an impromptu creation, but history records its reception in vivid detail. Fujiwara no Sanesuke (957–1046), a high-ranking courtier of unimpeachable integrity, detailed the evening in his diary, the Shoyuki. (In the Taiga drama, Sanesuke was brilliantly played by the comedian Ryuji Akiyama).

When Michinaga demanded a henka (a poetic reply) from Sanesuke, the latter cleverly avoided competing. Instead, he proposed: "There is no need for someone of my low standing to add a reply to such a magnificent poem. Instead, we should all recite this poem in unison."

The assembled nobles enthusiastically agreed, and they sang Michinaga’s poem together. This was a masterstroke of political dynamics. Through Sanesuke’s quick wit (or tactical compromise), Michinaga’s declaration of unilateral dominance ("this world is my world") was elevated into a collective ritual of legitimization.

In Heian Japan, the aristocracy constituted less than 0.003% of the population—an ultra-exclusive, microscopic elite. This tiny but incredibly dense network, with Michinaga at its center, ruled the country.
This brings us back to our initial question: Why did the mathematical biologist Martin Nowak quote Michinaga’s poem in an email to Jeffrey Epstein?

The limitation of Nowak's network theory is that while it can statically map "who is connected to whom" (network structure), it struggles to explain the "dynamics of power"—why certain individuals manage to dominate these networks over time.

Yet, the story of Michinaga's poem and Sanesuke’s orchestrated chorus is the ultimate illustration of a "rule-maker" who designs the very structure of cooperation. Nowak, as a mathematical biologist, was likely fascinated by this perfect, sustainable, ego-centric network system designed by an ancient Eastern ruler. By presenting it to Joi Ito—a powerful modern hub—Nowak was highlighting the ultimate design of elite networks.

But no network lasts forever. The moon, once full, must inevitably begin to wane. The "full moon" represents a temporary state where people and power are concentrated to their absolute limit at the center of a network.

In modern politics and business, simply having a "broad network" is not the same as being at its apex. The true art of the hub lies in the discernment of whom to connect and under what rules. This discerning eye determines the fate of the hub.

Taro Aso, recently likened to a modern-day Michinaga by Yoshihiko Noda over the imperial succession debate. As Aso gazes up at the moon tonight, is he looking at a crescent destined to wax, or a full moon that has already begun to wane?