JAPAN
The hearings center on a proposal to revise the 1951 Religious Corporations Law, which grants
broad freedom from official scrutiny and taxation to thousands of officially recognized religious
groups. The Lower House special committee approved the revisions last week and, following
several weeks of debate in the Upper House, the proposed changes are almost certain to be
approved by both chambers next month. Put forward by
Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama's administration, the revisions would
introduce more government oversight.
In the past such a tightening would have sparked an outcry against authoritarianism, but polls
today show that more than 80% of Japanese are ready to put out the watchdog.
Shinshinto's chief rival, the L.D.P., like most parties in Japan, has
been badly weakened by the political turmoil of the past two years and is terrified by the prospect
of a showdown with Soka Gakkai, given its
tacit support for Shinshinto. The Liberal Democrats' fears are well
grounded: Shinshinto officials admit that in a July Upper House election, Soka Gakkai was
responsible for about half the party's 12.5 million
votes, the best showing by any political faction.
The sect's spokesmen deny that Soka Gakkai is interested in political power and point out that it
severed formal ties with Komeito in 1970. That contention is not widely accepted in Japan;
nearly all Komeito legislators were Soka Gakkai faithful before the merger with Shinshinto and
presumably still are, although they typically insist they are nothing more than religious men with
a political calling. Asks Masao Akamatsu, a former Komeito member and now a Shinshinto
legislator:
"What's so strange about having a religious group behind a political party? All we do is chant our
prayer."
Not quite. They also look to the leadership of Ikeda, 67, the enigmatic figure who is the sect's
honorary president and unquestioned commander. At a closed meeting of top officials last August
at a Soka Gakkai facility in Karuizawa, a small resort town in the Japan Alps, Ikeda showed his
hand. According to a member who was present, he said, "This time, not the next time, [the
election] is going to be about winning or losing. We cannot hesitate. We must conquer the
country with one stroke."
Junko Ando, 38, tells a not untypical story. The piano teacher says
she joined Soka Gakkai eight years ago because "I had no religion of my own. I wasn't unhappy,
but I found a lot of fulfillment in the teachings
of Buddha and Nichiren,"a 13th century Japanese monk. She became
disillusioned because of sect officials' emphasis on fund raising, election activities and what she
calls "the Ikeda personality-cult tendency." She
quit and helped more than 30 others leave as well. That move led to
threats and eventually an attack in which a man she recognized as a sect member twisted her arm
and took away a camera she was carrying. Shaken
but unhurt, she jotted down the license plate of his car as it drove
away and complained to the police. But as often happens in cases involving religious groups, the
authorities did not investigate fully, explaining
that there was insufficient evidence to track down the suspect.
Critics also point out that the real issue, at least in the case of Aum Shinrikyo, was the failure of
the police, not an excess of religious freedoms. The Roman Catholic bishops' conference issued a
statement warning that the proposed changes "open the way to guidance and direction by
government agencies and make it possible that the 'separation of church and state' may be
denied."
In the eyes of Soka Gakkai members, there is considerable reason to fear state authority. The sect
was founded in 1930 as the lay arm of the Nichiren Shoshu, one of 38 Buddhist organizations
that claim to represent the teachings of Nichiren. Soka Gakkai's founder, Tsunesaburo
Makiguchi, was eager to reform the school system to include Nichiren's teachings, but the very
idea was enough to land him in prison in 1943 for opposing state-ordered Emperor worship.
Makiguchi died behind bars, but his disciple Josei Toda survived imprisonment to lead the group
after the war. Toda believed political influence was the key to protecting Soka Gakkai from
persecution, and the sect began putting up its own candidates for local
elections in 1955.
Two years after Toda's death in 1958, Ikeda, a longtime Soka Gakkai official, assumed the
presidency and accelerated efforts to gain political influence for the sect.
Toshimitsu Ryu, Soka Gokkai's first political strategist and a senior official until he quit the sect
in 1991, helped design a plan in the 1960s aimed at
winning office in Tokyo and then other major cities. In 1965 Komeito
gained 23 seats in the then 120-seat Tokyo assembly, and ever since has been the fulcrum of
power in the fragmented chamber. Says Ryu, a former
Komeito Tokyo assembly member: "They have used their position to gain
influence over city officials and the Tokyo city budget, particularly the police budget."
Soka Gakkai followers are taught to chant and recite passages from the
Lotus Sutra in front of a small altar that holds the Gohonzon, a copy of a small scroll inscribed
with Chinese characters that symbolizes the Lotus Sutra. They fervently believe their prayers
bring them good fortune in this life as well as the next one. Japan's rapid economic growth
through the end of the 1980s was the best recruiting agent Soka Gakkai could have desired. Says
Masao Okkotsu, a former member who has written extensively on the
organization: "As Japan entered an era of high economic growth, people
moved from rural areas to industrial centers. They were lonely, poor and cut off. Soka Gakkai
offered companionship, easy loans and an ideology to fill the gap." Nichiren taught that chanting
makes Buddhists better people and that that in turn improves society as a whole.
Most members get their news from the daily Seikyo Shimbun (circ. 5.5
million), the sect's official publication, and many send their children to Soka Gakkai--sponsored
schools. The best go on to Tokyo's highly competitive Soka University. Near the group's
nondescript headquarters in Shinanomachi, Tokyo, the sect owns many surrounding buildings,
and security is a major worry.
Members in blue blazers with walkie-talkies stand on street corners for blocks around. Last year,
according to a leaked police report, Aum Shinrikyo allegedly tried to kill Ikeda.
At the center of this universe is Ikeda, a balding, stocky man whose appearance at rallies makes
people burst into tears of joy because he is revered as a great teacher who has shown his flock the
way to happiness and fulfillment. Says Chie Sunada, 22: "[Ikeda] teaches us the basics of how
we should live. He is really a great master."
Soka Gakkai's greatest vulnerability is its dark side. Nichiren was deeply intolerant of other
Buddhist sects. He insisted that all Zen followers are devils, and he justified militancy and even
violence to defend his sect and to repress rival organizations. The government under the
Kamakura shogunate exiled him twice for predicting disasters and foreign invasions if the
country's leaders did not stamp out competing sects. Soka Gakkai shares Nichiren's militant
aspect. It is openly hostile to other creeds, and members, especially important ones, run a
frightening gauntlet if they try to
quit.
According to ex-followers, Soka Gakkai spies on its own ranks, trailing and intimidating those
who are unsure of their commitment. Shuichi Sanuki, editor of a biweekly newspaper for the
10,000 members of the Soka Gakkai Victims Association, claims to have overseen, among other
activities, the sect's alleged spying apparatus in Tokyo. He quit, along with many other
disenchanted members, in 1991 when the Nichiren Shoshu, which provided the sect's priesthood,
grew angry over Ikeda's attempts to take over the religious wing and excommunicated him.
Sanuki says he received death threats over the phone, and members of the Soka Gakkai
Housewives' Association even contacted his wife and urged her to divorce him. Says he: "I know
what the group does to people whom it regards as its enemies. It's not safe for anyone who dares
to criticize it."
For its part, Soka Gakkai resolutely denies any involvement in such
harassment.
So do Komeito legislators, who claim to stand against corruption and pacifism. Yet the party had
long-standing back-room ties with the most corrupt faction in the l.d.p., the group formed around
the late
Kakuei Tanaka. Though Liberal Democrats denounce Soka Gakkai today, the sect has been
helpful in the past, most notably supporting the l.d.p. on the passage of a controversial 1992 law
that permitted Japan to send
troops overseas on U.N. peacekeeping missions for the first time. In return, admitted the late
Foreign Minister Michio Watanabe in a 1993 magazine interview, the l.d.p.
government quashed a tax case aimed atthe sect.
Last year 64 Komeito members of the Upper and Lower houses of the Diet merged with Ozawa's
Shinshinto in a move to improve their chances in the next national elections. Ozawa could not
resist the temptation to win the backing of Soka Gakkai's grass-roots activists. Shinshinto denies
that it receives any funds from Soka Gakkai and insists that Shinshinto is in the driver's seat.
Says Hajime Funada, a Shinshinto legislator who
is not a member of Soka Gakkai: "As long as they have no more than 50%
of political power, it's all right.
But we do need to take care to keep their influence in check."
The debate about Soka Gakkai's intentions leads back to Ikeda, whose favorite phrase when
exhorting his senior followers is Tenka o toru (conquer the country). In his rare public interviews,
Ikeda presents himself as a moderate who has been miscast by the press. "I am an ordinary and
serious man," he told the BBC in an interview this year. "The mass media, with the exception of
the bbc, make up this image of me as a dictator and so forth. This troubles me very much."
Whatever his political ambitions, Ikeda enjoys the limelight on his own terms. Like many
wealthy, would-be world figures, he seeks chances to meet international celebrities such as
Margaret Thatcher or, just this year, Nelson Mandela, in order to enhance his stature among the
followers. He has also built up a pricey art collection for Soka Gakkai, including two Renoirs,
sometimes buying numerous paintings at a time from a single gallery and having aides pay for
the works with suitcases of cash that they carry on trips.
To his followers he is irresistible, the pinnacle of the organization that means so much to them.
But on the rare occasion when he appears in public, like at a 1993 meeting of Soka Gakkai
International in California, Ikeda comes off as surprisingly voluble and erratic. On that occasion,
he repeatedly pounded the table with both hands and mocked President Bill Clinton. Former
close associates like Ryu insist that Ikeda is not very religious.
Whatever Ikeda's strengths or failings, the spotlight is on Soka Gakkai, and the sect is determined
to prove it is a benign if not benevolent force in society. President Akiya has declared the sect
will drop its antagonistic views toward other groups. Says former Komeito member Akamatsu: "I
can understand why the l.d.p. is saying that Ikeda is intent on seizing political power. In the past,
Komeito wanted to spread the Nichiren prayer for the good of the people. But those days are
over."
In the view of the Liberal Democrats, however, Soka Gakkai's past leaves too many questions
unanswered. Says Koichi Kato, L.D.P.
secretary-general: "If Shinshinto wins the next election, it will be thanks to the Soka Gakkai
engine. So, of course, Soka Gakkai can exert influence over the government. I don't think that
will be a good thing."
In the end, the voters can decide for themselves.
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