Julia McCarthy on the Meaning of Religion in Japan

By: Julia McCarthy

October 1, 2006

The link between the recent appointment of Japan's new prime minister, the contested purpose of a Shinto shrine in the heart of Tokyo, and heated protests in China and Korea may not particularly concern those living outside East Asia. Yet, to the usually conciliatory Japanese, the connection resonates with tension. The election of conservative-minded Shinzo Abe could mean continued political patronage of the Shinto war memorial, Yasukuni Jinja, and, therefore, continued demonstrations by Chinese and Koreans. While the relationship of Japanese politics and religion has never been simple, their recent intersection has many Japanese questioning their conception of national identity.
The Japanese notion of religion is complex and, at times, appears contradictory. My Japanese friends describe themselves as nonreligious, and yet they, like many other Japanese, buy each other Christmas presents, visit their local Buddhist temple for festivals, and pay respect to their ancestors in their home shrine. As a person from a society where religion often plays a divisive role, I initially had a hard time understanding when my friends observed Shinto, Buddhist, and Christian practices, yet described themselves as nonreligious. I did not understand that their participating in religious activities was not a spiritual observation, but a social, cultural, and political custom; I did not understand that most Japanese view very skeptically the faith-based, organized practice of religion. The Japanese never fully embraced the Western conception of religion; events of the mid-1990s only reinforced this skepticism. Unlike most Western religions, the earliest Japanese religion, Shintoism, stresses a lifestyle, not the adoption of a dogma. The Japanese have, therefore, rarely felt the need to commit to a certain creed, but pick and choose which beliefs and practices to assume. They have forged an ethical rather than a religious system. So in 1995 when religious groups failed to provide adequate support after the Kobe earthquake and when the new-wave religious group, Aum Shinrikyo, filled the Tokyo subways with lethal gas, killing innocent victims, many Japanese had their crescive disenchantment confirmed.

Yet somewhat paradoxically at a time when religion in Japan seems to be dead or dying, the country has witnessed the rise of a neo-conservative, putatively religious-minded leader. Like other leading nations, Japan has seen a polarization of political opinion in recent years as its conservative leaders expanded the scope of their power. Often both credited with and criticized for raising the position of prime minister to celebrity status, former prime minister Junichiro Koizumi used his initial overwhelming popularity to further a right wing, militaristic agenda. He pushed for reforms to budget programs promoting Japanese history and tradition and to amend the clause of the Constitution concerning Japanese refraining from war. And, despite objections from within the government and from across the Sea of Japan, Koizumi made annual visits to Yasukuni Jinja despite Japan's supposed separation of religion and politics.
A Shinto war memorial, Yasukuni Shrine commemorates, among others, fourteen convicted war criminals, angering the people of the countries where these crimes were committed. But Koizumi's visits upset more than the Korean and Chinese peoples; a huge percentage of the Japanese public felt uneasy about his provocation. (Generally, Japanese try to avoid confrontation.) The recently published memoirs of a former imperial household agency head revealed that the Emperor Hirohito, whom the right wing consider a living god, strongly opposed visits to the shrine because the memorial was not religiously neutral. Ironically, right-wingers Koizumi and Abe ignored the emperor's wishes, continuing to pay homage at the shrine. In fact this year, on the shrine's anniversary, Koizumi made his most public visit to the shrine ever.

Whether Abe will continue the tradition of visits to Yasukuni and allow strained relations with China and Korea to fester remains to be seen. Upon his appointment, he stated he would "continue to carry the torch of reform without holding back" and promised to amend Article 9 of the Constitution, renouncing Japan's abstinence from war. He expressed his desire to strengthen the decision-making powers of the prime minister with regards to national defense and foreign affairs, but left the public still wondering if he will visit Yasukuni. Abe has, so far, avoided addressing the issue, talking instead of building a stronger, more trusting relationship with China and South Korea. In this time of uncertainty, ordinary Japanese remain divided on the issue. Deeply nationalistic and loyal, most Japanese want to support their government, and yet avoid conflict with China and South Korea. They await Abe's answer to see if both allegiance and conciliation are possible. I, too, await Abe's stance on the religious and political nature of Yasukuni, wondering if next August 15, on the shrine's anniversary, loud, militaristic music, angry shouts, and organized chants will prevail or if Abe will have the courage to introduce a new era of peace.
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