Politics and Religion in Japan
Before 1945, the separation of church and state was a foreign concept in Japan. The eminent scholar of Japanese religion, Joseph Kitagawa (1915-1992), regarded the most profoundly problematic aspect of Japanese religion to be its age-old subservience to political power. In Religion in Japanese History, he notes that after Buddhism was introduced to Japan in the mid-sixth century C.E., it was quickly “transformed into the religion of the throne and the empire.” The oldest surviving Japanese political document, the Seventeen-Article Constitution of 604 C.E., states that both Buddhism and Shinto, “the Heavenly Sovereign,” were the pillars of state power.
The pattern of using religion as a tool of state control persisted throughout Japan’s history. Under the danka system during the Tokugawa period, the shogunate forced all Japanese citizens to register at Buddhist temples to eradicate Christianity. Following the Meiji Restoration in 1868, the state reinvigorated kokutai (national polity) by elevating Shinto as the religious foundation of the emperor-centered political system, enshrined in the 1889 Meiji Constitution. By the 1930s and 1940s, Japan’s militarist regime had transformed this nationalist political religion into a justification for expansionism, waging what it called a “holy war” against China and the West. After Japan’s defeat in 1945, American Occupation authorities insisted on a strict separation of religion and politics, formalized in the 1947 Constitution. Article 20 guarantees freedom of religion while explicitly mandating the separation of church and state.
However, for many Japanese nationalists—though not the general population—the post-war Constitution does not reflect Japan’s true values, as they see it as an imposition by the American Occupation. Over the past few decades, the dominant political party, the LDP, gradually reintroduced elements of pre-war kokutai, particularly through its patronage of nationalist Shinto. Official visits by government ministers to Yasukuni Shrine, which honors the war dead—including convicted war criminals—and state sponsorship of Shinto ceremonies or imperial successions exemplify this trend.
Unexpected Repercussions of the Abe Assassination
Against this historical backdrop, revelations about the LDP’s deep ties with the Unification Church have shaken Japanese society. Tetsuya Yamagami, the “lone wolf” assassin, unintentionally exposed a web of political, legal, religious, and social issues that had long been festering beneath the surface.
Not since the 1995 Aum Shinrikyō sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway had an act of violence linked to a religious group—or “cult,” as some describe it—provoked such national outrage. The LDP’s exposed connections with the Unification Church led to a sharp decline in its popularity. In response, Former Prime Minister Fumio Kishida scrambled to contain the damage, vowing to purge party members with close ties to the Church. Yet, when Kishida announced a new cabinet months later, nearly half its members had known connections to the Church.
The relationship between the Unification Church and the LDP remains an unsettling paradox. Ironically, it was Abe’s own grandfather, Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi, who first invited the South Korean religious group into Japan in 1959. In the wake of the Korean War and North Korea’s communist takeover, Kishi viewed the staunchly anti-communist Unification Church as a strategic ally against communist influence in Japan. Despite the passage of time, these ties remained deeply embedded in Japan’s political landscape, only recently coming under scrutiny.
The LDP’s Enduring Ties to the Unification Church
Another striking irony is that the nationalist LDP, which often downplays or outright denies Imperial Japan’s wartime atrocities, has maintained a strong relationship with a Korean organization that advocates for Japan’s continued reparations to South Korea. The Unification Church teaches that Japan owes an eternal debt for its colonial rule, and Japanese followers have reportedly funneled 70 to 80 percent of the Church’s total income to South Korea. Japan has effectively become the Church’s primary financial base, largely due to its skillful exploitation of historical guilt.
Many adherents become so obsessed with donating money that they drive their families into financial ruin. This was the case with Yamagami’s mother, who continued contributing to the Church even after declaring bankruptcy. The day before the assassination, Yamagami wrote to an investigative journalist, describing how his family’s victimization by the Church “continues to distort [his] whole life.” His testimony has since inspired other second-generation victims to come forward with their own harrowing tales.
Despite these widespread abuses, Abe and the LDP largely ignored the issue, benefiting from the Church’s unwavering political support. Many LDP lawmakers admitted that Church members served as reliable voters, fundraisers, and campaign workers. Abe was filmed in 2021 praising the Unification Church, an act that, in Yamagami’s mind, made him complicit in its predatory practices. Though few sympathized with his violent actions, many Japanese shared his frustration, demanding that the government sever all ties with the Church. The assassin has since become a symbol of the shūkyō nisei phenomenon: the struggles faced by second-generation victims, particularly children suffering from their parents’ blind devotion.
Most Japanese today support the separation of church and state and expect their politicians to uphold this principle. However, the LDP has used “freedom of religion” as an excuse to avoid taking meaningful action against the Unification Church, despite knowing of its abusive practices since at least the 1980s. Even after the 1995 Aum Shinrikyō attack, which led to the Church being labeled a “malignant cult,” LDP lawmakers remained hands-off. That stance, whether due to libertarian restraint or deliberate inaction, is no longer sustainable. Yet, Prime Minister Kishida’s actions—which some view as overreactions—have sparked new concerns about religious freedom.
Striking the Right Balance Between Religious Freedom and the Social Good
Religious freedom is a fundamental human right, but it does not extend to criminal exploitation. While extreme cases, such as the Aum Shinrikyō attack, are easy to legislate against, more ambiguous situations—like coercive financial exploitation—pose legal dilemmas for democratic governments.
Japan now faces a difficult choice: crack down on exploitative religious organizations and risk accusations of violating constitutional freedoms, or take a hands-off approach and allow social harm to continue.
Though the LDP has made some attempts at reform, critics argue they are largely symbolic. Editorials in major newspapers such as the Mainichi Shimbun and Asahi Shinbun argue that the Former Unification Church Victims’ Relief Bill (former because it has now been disestablished as a recognized religion by a government order in Japan, passed on December 5, 2023) fails to provide adequate relief. The Mainichi editorial points out that the bill does not prevent Church assets from being dispersed before victims can make claims, placing the burden on individuals to file lawsuits. Perhaps most frustratingly, neither the victims nor their lawyers were consulted in the drafting process.
To be sure, some meaningful measures have been taken, such as revoking the Unification Church’s status as an officially recognized religion, requiring it to pay taxes like any other business. The government has also introduced policies aimed at protecting second-generation victims. However, this effort enters legally fraught territory, as it involves balancing parental rights with children’s freedom of thought.
One of the most contentious issues is the redefinition of “child abuse” in religious contexts. Japan’s revised Child Abuse Prevention Law now recognizes four types of abuse: physical, sexual, neglect, and psychological. Under this framework, Yamagami’s mother’s failure to provide for him due to her excessive donations to the Church could now be legally classified as child abuse. Similarly, religious threats—such as telling a child they will “spend an eternity in hell” if they do not conform—could be considered psychological abuse. Concerns about religious freedom have already surfaced, with the U.S. State Department’s 2022 Report on International Religious Freedom citing NGO’s accusations that Japan is engaging in “intolerance, discrimination, and persecution” against the Unification Church following Abe’s assassination.”
Suggestions for Future Action
To effectively address these complex issues, Japan must adopt a more inclusive approach. A smaller-scale version of Nelson Mandela and Bishop Desmond Tutu’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission could be one solution. Such a commission’s legal experts and religious scholars could craft more nuanced and effective legislation.
In the meantime, to correct the power imbalance between individual claimants and the Church, the government should allow class-action lawsuits or sponsor court cases to compel the Church to compensate victims. The LDP must also take stronger steps toward a stricter separation between politics and religion, as mandated by the Constitution. All ties between the LDP and the former Unification Church should be decisively severed, and future affiliations with religious organizations should be explicitly prohibited.
However, the issue extends beyond the LDP’s connections to a single religious group. The Japanese political system itself requires fundamental reform to restore public trust in democracy, which has been severely shaken by corruption and factionalism. The Asahi newspaper recently called for an end to the “evils of factionalism,” which has led to kickback scandals and an insular political culture unrepresentative of the broader Japanese population.
Given how entrenched factionalism is in Japan, eliminating it will be no easy task. One potential solution, as suggested by Princess Kako, is to increase diversity in the Japanese parliament. Greater representation of women, younger politicians, and those outside the traditional political elite could help weaken the old boys’ network and its system of patronage.
These legal, policy, and parliamentary reforms, while necessary, will pose long-term challenges. However, if the tragic events of July 8, 2022, have any silver lining, it is that they have forced these critical issues into the public eye. Now, Japanese lawmakers must address them with the discretion and wisdom they demand.
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Professor Roy Starrs, PhD has taught Japanese and Asian studies at the University of British Columbia, Union College (New York), and Aarhus University (Denmark). He now teaches at the University of Otago (New Zealand). His publications include Modernism and Japanese Culture, When the Tsunami Came to Shore: Culture and Disaster in Japan, Politics and Religion in Modern Japan: Red Sun, White Lotus, and, most recently, The Paradoxes of Japan’s Cultural Identity: Modernity and Tradition in Japanese Literature, Art, Politics and Religion.
Image Credit: Evelyn-rose, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
