One of the most disturbing things about the death of former Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe is that there might not be much to learn from it at all.
The media focus has zeroed in on the Unification Church, the organization better known as the Moonies, to which suspect Tetsuya Yamagami’s mother belonged and reportedly donated hundreds of thousands of US dollars. That bankrupted her family and left Yamagami with a grudge against Abe, who had given speeches to organizations related to the group.
However, understanding this background may turn out to be as useful as knowing about actress Jodie Foster to make sense of the attempted assassination of former US president Ronald Reagan in 1981. Reagan’s would-be assassin, John Hinckley Jr, famously sought to kill the president to impress Foster, whom he was obsessed with.
A few months earlier, John Lennon had been gunned down in an equally senseless attack by Mark David Chapman, who was said to have been inspired by the J.D. Salinger novel The Catcher in the Rye.
The murder of Abe is starting to feel closer to these episodes than initial suspicions that it might be politically motivated. That could prove to be something of a relief, if such is possible; Japan does not need the entrenched bitter partisan division that increasingly marks other democracies, which a sharply political assassination might incite.
This is not to say we should ignore the Unification Church. One overdue thing to come out of this sordid affair might be to shine a spotlight on the Moonies and other fringe religious groups, an area of Japanese society that often flies below the radar.
Religion in Japan is not the ideological battleground it can be in other countries, leading many to think of the country as non-religious. Religion often has a more decorative place in society, most prominently in ceremonies through the various stages of life — a country where people are often said to be born Shinto, married Christian and die Buddhist.
It is there nonetheless, and not just in quasi-Christian groups such as the Moonies. Many will know of an elderly relative fleeced by some Buddhist sect or other for items said to have healing powers. The Happy Science group attracted international headlines in 2020 with its claim that it could cure COVID-19, but otherwise is little talked about even in Japan, despite having extravagant facilities in many city centers.
Since Abe’s killing, some media (mostly tabloids) have declared open season on an area of a society that mainstream news organizations often seem reluctant to touch. Other outlets, however, have been reluctant even to name the organization to which Yamagami’s mother belonged, though the Unification Church held a press conference acknowledging the connection.
The links from the Moonies to Abe, however, are much less clear. The former prime minister was not a member of the church, though he had spoken at online events linked to it alongside other prominent figures such as former US president Donald Trump. Perhaps the ties were historic: Abe’s grandfather, the postwar Japanese prime minister Nobusuke Kishi, is said to have helped the group and its South Korean founder Reverend Sun Myung Moon, seen as an ally in fighting Communism, get a foothold in Japan.
The killing has also put the spotlight on a fringe political grouping, the NHK Party — so named because it opposes the national broadcaster. In a bizarre scene before the upper house elections on July 10, the party’s secretary-general, Akihiko Kurokawa, said that Abe was to blame for funding religious groups and broke into a singsong rendition — live on NHK, no less — of a refrain, “It’s all Abe’s fault.” Kurokawa has also referenced Soka Gakkai, the Buddhist organization that backs Komeito, the junior coalition partner to Abe’s Liberal Democratic Party.
All this makes for compelling viewing, but what it tells us about Abe’s death — or the potential to stop such attacks in future — seems limited. We do not know if Yamagami believes what he is telling police, or even if he is of sound mind.
In looking to prevent a future attack, perhaps the focus should equally be on the socioeconomic conditions that helped create Yamagami. His profile fits a pattern. In contrast to the typical image of such crimes being the work of angry young men, several shocking killings in Japan over the past few years have been committed by older men with broken homes, few economic prospects and little to live for.
The man who is suspected to have killed 36 people in the 2019 arson attack on Kyoto Animation was 41 at the time, the same age as Yamagami now; like Yamagami, his father died at a relatively young age. The 61-year-old arsonist who claimed 26 lives in an attack in Osaka in December last year was divorced and estranged from his family, and had nothing in his bank account at the time.
In each of these cases the target seems almost arbitrary — whether it is the Osaka mental health clinic in which one killer received treatment, the animation studio that another seems to have believed stole his ideas, or the country’s longest-serving prime minister. What the perpetrators do have in common is a history of mental health issues, spotty employment and a separation from society. How the Moonies might be involved with Yamagami’s economic situation should certainly be examined closely. Tomihiro Tanaka, the head of the church in Japan, acknowledged it receives donations from members, but declined to discuss specifics of Yamagami’s mother, citing the ongoing investigation.
There is a natural urge to want to make sense of these events — to explain the “why.” The unforgivable security lapses in guarding Abe, which Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida on Thursday said were “problematic,” are certainly another place to look, with police responsible for the scene reportedly distracted by bicycles and missing the suspect. An age seemed to pass between Yamagami’s first and second shots, a moment during which Abe could have been protected. Soul-searching around security arrangements is certain to continue.
But sometimes, there simply is no why. The most horrifying conclusion from his murder might be this: In a free society, even one with so few guns as Japan, a determined and deranged assailant with luck on his side cannot always be stopped.
Gearoid Reidy is a Bloomberg News senior editor covering Japan. He previously led the breaking news team in north Asia and was the Tokyo deputy bureau chief. This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
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