Amazon.com: Buddhism beyond Gender: Liberation from Attachment to Identity eBook: Gross, Rita M., Simmer-Brown, Judith: Kindle Store

Amazon.com: Buddhism beyond Gender: Liberation from Attachment to Identity 

eBook: Gross, Rita M., Simmer-Brown, Judith: Kindle Store





Buddhism beyond Gender: Liberation from Attachment to Identity 

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by Rita M. Gross  (Author), Judith Simmer-Brown (Introduction)  

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A bold and provocative work from the late preeminent feminist scholar, which challenges men and women alike to free themselves from attachment to gender. 



At the heart of Buddhism is the notion of egolessness—“forgetting the self”—as the path to awakening. In fact, attachment to views of any kind only leads to more suffering for ourselves and others. And what has a greater hold on people’s imaginations or limits them more, asks Rita Gross, than ideas about biological sex and what she calls “the prison of gender roles”? Yet if clinging to gender identity does, indeed, create obstacles for us, why does the prison of gender roles remain so inescapable? Gross uses the lenses of Buddhist philosophy to deconstruct the powerful concept of gender and its impact on our lives. In revealing the inadequacies involved in clinging to gender identity, she illuminates the suffering that results from clinging to any kind of identity at all.





Editorial Reviews

Review

“Rita Gross offers readers an amazing example of a lifelong, ongoing commitment to feminist thinking and practice. Her visionary insistence that the path to ending patriarchal domination must lead us beyond gender is a revolutionary paradigm shift, one that can lead to greater freedom for everyone.”—bell hooks



“In terma (treasure) traditions, texts appear in the world, mysteriously, at the precise moment when they will have the greatest benefit. Rita Gross’s posthumously published book, Buddhism beyond Gender—set to be released by Shambhala Publications at a time when clarity around gender is needed more than ever—may be just such a treasure.”—Lion’s Roar



"In Buddhism Beyond Gender, Rita Gross provides her final and most candid assessment of the state of gender dynamics within Buddhism... This book feels as much as a scholarly culmination as it does a call to arms."—Canadian Journal of Buddhist Studies



“The Buddhist scriptures tell us that we are neither male nor female—that gender is an illusion, and that clinging to it just brings suffering. In this, her last book, Rita Gross, one of the founding figures in the feminist study of religion, explains why this is so. One of the few academics to speak from an insider’s perspective, Professor Gross devoted most of her life to challenging the structures of patriarchy and oppression in the Buddhist tradition—to ‘repairing’ the tradition and making it more just. Buddhism beyond Gender is Rita Gross at her very best: clear, direct, insightful, and uncompromising. The book is not just an important contribution to Buddhism and gender studies, it is a practical guidebook on how to see through the fictions of gender identity and free oneself from the prison of gender roles so as to lead a more liberated life.”—José Ignacio Cabezón, Dalai Lama Professor, University of California, Santa Barbara

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About the Author

RITA M. GROSS (1943–2015) was Professor Emerita of Comparative Studies in Religion at the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire. An important figure in the study of women in religion in general, she was also a Vajrayana Buddhist practitioner and teacher, appointed a lopon by Mindrolling Jetsun Khandro Rinpoche.  



She is the author, coauthor, or editor of eleven books, including her classic Buddhism after Patriarchy: A Feminist History, Analysis, and Reconstruction of Buddhism. --This text refers to the paperback edition.

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File Size: 1358 KB

Print Length: 189 pages

Publisher: Shambhala (March 27, 2018)

Publication Date: March 27, 2018

Sold by: Amazon.com Services LLC

Language: English

ASIN: B076NPZW4F

Text-to-Speech: Enabled 

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4.2 out of 5 stars

4.2 out of 5

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Top Reviews

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Amazon Customer

5.0 out of 5 stars Extraordinarily insightful

Reviewed in the United States on November 21, 2018

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I found this book to be extraordinarily insightful. As a Buddhist practitioner--one who cares deeply about the issues of gender but feels they are underrepresented or glossed over--this book was a revelation. The main theme is that attachment to gender roles—of any gender—creates suffering. The author refers to this as the “prison of gender roles.” But ultimately, the view in Buddhism is that attachment to any fixed views or fixed identity leads to suffering. She shows both how we as individuals can find freedom (through emptiness, or egolessness) and how Buddhist traditions can address this. I love the author’s occasional personal anecdotes of how she’s confronted issues related to gender roles in her own life.



As for the one-star review that exists for this book, my impression is that the reviewer missed the forest for the trees, though I wish them the best.

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Lisa Rayner

1.0 out of 5 stars people like my transgender wife

Reviewed in the United States on April 28, 2018

Shambala Publications has disgraced itself by publishing this book by an openly transphobic author. Transphobia hurts real human beings every day, people like my transgender wife, and me, a non-binary person. Rita Gross gave talks about the book while she was writing it. Even though she died before she could write about transgender people, leaving a placeholder in the book, it is clear that what she would have written would likely have been transphobic. Before her death, she expressed much ignorance about transgender people. She also appeared to conflate gender roles with gender identity, like many 2nd wave feminists still do (trans exclusionary feminists who believe, wrongly, that transgender women are not women). There is plenty of scientific data on the effects of hormone timing in the womb on the sex and gender of developing embryos. The Endocrine Society recently published a position statement that transgender identity is not a mental illness and that biology underlies gender identity. The commenters on this page who are writing transphobic opinions are just making the situation worse. When did science-denialism become “Buddhist” Transphobic Buddhist feminists. What a horrific perspective on Buddhism and 2nd wave feminism. Where’s the empathy and compassion for the real human beings who are discriminated against and treated poorly every day because they were born transgender? Shambala Publications has harmed the public perception of Buddhism. I will never look at this company or Buddhism the same benign way again.

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Japanese Memories of the Asia-Pacific War: Analyzing the Revisionist Turn Post-1995 | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus

Japanese Memories of the Asia-Pacific War: Analyzing the Revisionist Turn Post-1995 | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus






Japanese Memories of the Asia-Pacific War: Analyzing the Revisionist Turn Post-1995
Akiko Takenaka
October 15, 2016
Volume 14 | Issue 20 | Number 8
Article ID 4967





This essay begins with three notable incidents of recent years, which are indicative of contemporary trends in the politics of war memory in Japan. The first is associated with the Abe administration’s 2015 passage of the Collective Self Defense Bill: an interpretation of Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, which allows the Japanese Self Defense Forces to engage in military affairs when an ally of Japan is deemed to be under threat. The second is a part of the controversies on the “comfort women,” the systematic sexual slavery conducted at military brothels, which was implemented and managed by the Japanese military and government during the Asia-Pacific War (1931-45). The third concerns a municipal museum dedicated to the local experience of the Asia-Pacific War.

Incident 1: In October 2015, a Tokyo branch of national bookstore chain Junkudō was pressured into cancelling its “Fifty Must-Reads for Freedom and Democracy” book fair. This, in response to complaints that the selection was biased. The bookstore resumed the fair a month later with a new title “Forty-Nine Titles to Think About Democracy Today.” As many as forty of the original fifty books had been replaced with new titles. Among the books that were pulled were those by liberal intellectuals who had voiced concerns and criticisms of the ways that the Abe administration forced passage of the Collective Self-defense Bill.1

“Fifty Must-Reads for Freedom
and Democracy” book fair “Forty-Nine Titles to Think
About Democracy Today”
book fair




Incident 2: In August 2014, former Asahi newspaper reporter Uemura Takashi became embroiled in an intense controversy over several articles on the “comfort women” issue, which he had authored in 1991. The articles are considered to provide key evidences of the Japanese government’s involvement in the “comfort women” system. Conservative critics accused Uemura of fabrication. The controversy is still ongoing, and has cost Uemura an academic position. He and his family continue to receive death threats.2




Former Asahi newspaper reporter Uemura Takashi showing the “comfort woman” article from 1991




Incident 3: In April 2014, Peace Osaka, a municipal museum dedicated to the Japanese experience of the Asia-Pacific War, closed its doors in order to overhaul the entire exhibit. The museum had displayed, in addition to local experience of the Allied air raids, aggressive acts committed by the Japanese military in China. The transformation was a result of continuous attacks by the revisionist right, which argued that the museum must present a history that Japanese youths can be proud of. The museum reopened a year later featuring a narrative of the Asia-Pacific War completely devoid of Japan’s aggressions in Asia.3 Several other municipal museums dedicated to local experiences of the war have also removed displays of Japanese atrocities under similar pressure.




Activists protesting the “renewal” of Peace Osaka, April 30, 2015


The three episodes illustrate ways that memories of the Asia-Pacific War are politicized in line with resurgent nationalism in Japan today. In many of these cases, war memory has become a political position that one must take, polarized between two options: the Asia-Pacific War was a war of imperialism and aggression, or it was a war of self-defense from Western imperialism. How to remember this war has always been a politicized issue in Japan, but the trend has certainly intensified in the last two decades, especially since 1995, the fiftieth anniversary of the war’s end. In the cases of the bookstore and the museums, we see instances where the extreme right succeeded in pressuring municipal and private groups to alter their narrative portrayal of the past. The instance involving the former Asahi reporter demonstrates how issues associated with the wartime past have been reduced to a political position. There are many other situations where even personal memories of the war have been simplified into a black-and-white stance on whether Japan’s war was one of aggression.

This essay will analyze this recent trend in Japanese war memory through three avenues: 1) the 1995 paradigm: the conservative turn in the mid-1990s as a reaction to the series of official apologies that were issued by the Japanese government for the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war; 2) “postmemory”: the shift in war memory in recent decades influenced by the rapid decrease in the number of war survivors; and 3) memory activists: an examination of whose memories—and what kind of memories—are actively being remembered today. Through these three themes, the essay explicates the unresolved nature of Japan’s relationship with its wartime past. In particular, the victimhood consciousness held by a large majority of Japanese, as well as the failure by relatively liberal administrations to systematically resolve the issues through research, outreach, and education, have hampered Japan’s efforts for reconciling with its history.




Displays that were eliminated with the “renewal”


Politics of Apology and the 1995 Paradigm

Japan has had to deal with the issue of official apologies since the end of the war. In the early postwar decades, apologies at the state level were only issued to specific nations such as Burma (1957) and Australia (1957), or on particular occasions such as the normalization of international relations (South Korea, 1965; People’s Republic of China, 1972). International scrutiny on Japan’s attitude towards its wartime past intensified in the 1980s alongside the increased focus on the Japanese government’s relationship with Yasukuni Shrine, the highly politicized institution where spirits of all military dead from modern Japan including fourteen Class A war criminals are memorialized.4 Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro’s official visit to the shrine on August 15, 1985 especially raised concerns in Japan’s neighboring countries and brought attention to the issue of Japan’s war responsibility. Also in the 1980s, ways that the Asia-Pacific War—and especially the China campaign—was depicted in Japanese textbooks caused tensions between Japan and its East Asian neighbors.5 In the early 1990s, the issue of the “comfort women” reemerged, when Asahi newspaper reported on its front page that historian Yoshimi Yoshiaki discovered “comfort women”-related documents in the Ministry of Defense archives. The authors of the article urged the Japanese government to apologize and pay reparations to the women.6 Prime Minister Miyazawa Kiichi and Foreign Minister Kōno Yōhei issued several statements that included apologies to the women.

The shift in Japan’s political climate in the mid-1990s—the years leading up to the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war in August 1995—also affected the government’s official stance towards war responsibility. The Liberal Democratic Party, which had consistently been the majority party since 1955, yielded its status first to the newly formed Japan New Party (Nihon Shintō) headed by Hosokawa Morihiro in August 1993, then to the short-lived Japan Renewal party (Shinseitō) of Ozawa Ichirō in April 1994, and finally, to a coalition government headed by the socialist Murayama Tomiichi in June 1994. Hosokawa and Murayama in particular issued several notable apologies, which included acknowledgement of the pain and suffering that the actions of the Japanese military inflicted on people of Asia, as well as admission of the Japanese government’s involvement in the “comfort women” system. Murayama established the Asian Women’s Fund, a private foundation whose goal was to pay reparations to the women and raise awareness of the issue.7 Opinion polls from the time reveal that the majority of Japanese approved these official statements.

Yet, these apologies were quickly overshadowed by the Japanese government’s sharp turn to the political right in succeeding years. As early as 1996, LDP lawmakers tied to conservative lobbyist groups assumed the premiership and other key government positions.8 These government officials resumed the practice of paying official tribute at Yasukuni Shrine. In 1997, they established the multi-party coalition “Association of Diet Members Who Jointly Pay Tribute at Yasukuni Shrine.” These were possible because there was public support for these lawmakers.




Association of Diet Members Who Jointly Pay Tribute at Yasukuni Shrine (photograph from 2013)


These neo-conservatives maintain that the history of modern and contemporary Japan should present the kind of narrative that Japanese youths can be proud of—that is, a narrative devoid of any wrongdoing by the Japanese state or the military. According to this narrative, the Asia-Pacific War for Japan was either a war of self-defense, or a war to liberate Asia from Western imperialism. There are several examples of institutional efforts to advocate this kind of history. In 1996, several scholars founded the Japanese Society for History Textbook Reform that sought to promote a nationalistic view through history education. Their version of Japanese history was cleansed of Japan’s war crimes and situated wartime Japan as the liberator of Asia from Western imperialism. 1997 saw the establishment of Nippon Kaigi, a “private organization for policy promotion and popular movement aimed at the reconstruction of a beautiful Japan that we can be proud of.”9 In 2002, Yūshūkan, the military museum owned and operated by Yasukuni Shrine, reopened its renovated and expanded facility with a brand new exhibit that featured a revisionist narrative of Imperial Japan.10 The popularity of publications by ultranationalist cultural producers such as the graphic novelist Kobayashi Yoshinori, commentator Sakurai Yoshiko, and writer Hyakuta Naoki illustrate the kind of narratives appreciated by many Japanese today.11 Attacks on museums such as Peace Osaka started in the mid-1990s. Mainstream popular culture, films in particular, typically do not go so far as to justify the war itself, but they often aestheticize sacrifice and honor without specifically addressing the political implications of the war or crimes and atrocities committed. The subtext here is Japan as a nation that all Japanese can be proud of—a narrative that presumably appeals to many who have grown tired of criticisms from the rest of Asia.

History and Civics textbooks published by
the Japan Society for History Textbook Reform


Following this shift to the right in the representations of Japanese history was the simplification of the issues associated with war memory. There have always existed debates about Japan’s role in the Asia-Pacific War. But by the 21st century, the points of contention in these controversies had shifted dramatically from the specific to the symbolic. For example, in the case of the “comfort women” issue, the original debate focused on the number of women involved, what kind of treatment they received, and, most importantly, whether or not the Japanese wartime government was involved in the setting up of the “comfort” stations and recruiting the women. The most heated debate that ensued in the recent years revolves not around issues, but rather, individuals—Japanese nationals who argue that there existed a Japanese state-controlled systematic sexual slavery in East and Southeast Asia during the war: Uemura Takashi, the former Asahi newspaper reporter who broke the news containing critical information about this systematic slavery, and Yoshimi Yoshiaki, the historian who uncovered archival evidence of state support of this system. The current debate is on the character and integrity of the two men, rather than on the issue itself. The debate has also extended outside Japan and Korea, to erecting memorials dedicated to the “comfort women” in expat communities in the United States and Canada, and to depiction of the subject matter in American textbooks.12 In the case of Yasukuni Shrine, focus of the associated controversies has shifted from specific issues such as the attempts of the Liberal Democratic Party to reinstate state support of the shrine, to more ambiguous ones including the alleged pain and suffering that a prime minister’s visit to the shrine has caused to specific individuals.13 While these debates are rooted in the historical past, it is also clear that the focus has shifted to matters that have little to do with specific occurrences in the past. Similar shifts can be observed in other controversial matters including Japanese military’s aggressive acts in Asia such as the Nanjing Massacre.

I suggest that this recent shift can be understood as a reaction to the period of apologies of the mid 1990’s—apologies that were, in the words of historian Yoshida Yutaka, “not backed by a solid understanding of the wartime history,” but rather, presented to support a necessary shift in Japan’s international policy.14 Yoshida argues that such apologies in particular, and popular opinion on Japan’s war crimes more generally, were not so much a result of changing historical consciousness as they were a reaction to international criticism.15 Just as the apologies were a political move in response to international pressure, the revisionist trend of recent years can be considered a reactionary move on the domestic level.

There certainly were geopolitical pressures that culminated in the 1995 apologies, the most influential of which was the collapse of the Cold War structure in Asia and the rise of China. During the Cold War, disagreements over war memory remained, for the most part, a domestic issue in Japan. But the demise of the global Cold War structure had profound implications for Japan, for it brought renewed attention to unresolved tensions with the Asian lands it had invaded prior to 1945. The 1989 death of Showa emperor, the supreme commander of the Asia-Pacific War who was nevertheless never tried in the Tokyo War Trials or deprived of his throne, also shifted the landscape of war memory in Japan.

By the 1990s, individuals (rather than states for whom issues of responsibility and compensation seemed to have been settled through war crimes tribunals and normalization of international relations) had begun to make claims in court for apologies and compensation.16 Former “comfort women” from South Korea began to speak about their experiences in the early 1990s leading to lawsuits against the Japanese government. Korean men also filed suits against Japanese corporations for their harsh forced labor during the war as colonial subjects. The 1997 publication of Iris Chang’s Rape of Nanking also highlighted Japanese atrocities in East Asia.17 International pressure, especially from China and South Korea, compelled Japan to contend with war memory from a global perspective. This provoked Japan to nationalize its war memory and to seek to impose a unified voice.

In this context, the mid-90s apologies can be understood as a strategy for improving Japan’s foreign relations with China and South Korea, rather than a full acknowledgement of wrongdoings in the wartime past. Another point worth considering is the ways that war memory was shaped immediately after 1945. The US-led Allied Occupation reframed Japanese war memory as one that can be described as “victim’s history”: by identifying individuals that were responsible for the war through the Tokyo Trials, and especially by allowing the emperor to evade prosecution, the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP) created in Japanese society an environment that was easier for them to occupy and manage. In the process, however, a feeling of “being deceived (damasareta)” by the wartime government permeated the immediate postwar period, and allowed the general public to not only welcome democracy, but also leave issues of their own war responsibility unquestioned.18 Victim’s history has played a role of a powerful unifier in Japanese society, presenting a situation that demonstrates the timelessness of Ernest Renan’s apt observation on nationalism: that “shared suffering unites more than does joy.”19

The Japanese public, then, embraced the official apologies of the mid-1990s not because they felt responsible, but because the official apologies reinforced their understanding that it was the government’s responsibility to apologize, to compensate, and to work on reconciliation with its wartime foes. It is also worth mentioning that the Japanese government did not endorse their apologies domestically by educating, or having a dialogue with, the general public on issues of war responsibility. In this scenario, where the apologies occurred as more or less superficial measures, it is possible that the persistence of international criticism resulted in yet another reactionary response—a denial of war crimes more generally.

This all suggests a kind of reactionary nationalism: the reinterpretation of the past as a political position. If the apologies of the mid-1990s came as a result of international pressure, the succeeding turn to the right can be considered a response by frustrated domestic voices. War memory thus became politicized. In the process, the complex relationships that the Japanese had with the fifteen-year war—ranging from those who were indeed perpetrators, those who committed crimes under pressure, those who took advantage of the war for financial gain or promotion of their cause, those who truly believed that the war was a holy war including children who were thoroughly educated to celebrate Japan’s militaristic nationalism, and others who were simultaneously perpetrator and victim—have been reduced to political positions. One notable consequence of such political positioning is that those who supported one side or the other soon found themselves unwilling or unable to express critical views of methodologies or tactics utilized by those within their groups.

The Postmemory Generation and the Issue of War Responsibility

Over seventy years has passed since the end of the war, and the large majority of Japanese today have no firsthand experience of the war. This section focuses on the generations born after 1945—those with no experience of the war—in order to engage further with this problem of war memory. The ongoing, persistent international criticisms—especially those from China and South Korea—have had a particularly strong impact on the generations born after 1945, who feel that they should not have to be responsible for what happened before they were born. For example, in 1995, then member of the Lower House Takaichi Sanae, who was born in 1961, publicly asserted that she was under no obligation to contemplate (hansei suru) Japan’s war responsibility since she was not even alive at the time.20 Takaichi’s statement drew a variety of responses. Liberal media outlets, including the Asahi newspaper, condemned her point of view.21 At the same time, many Japanese from her generation—including those who acknowledge Japan’s wartime crimes—admitted to holding similar sentiments.22 This latter response suggests a trend more complex than that of a generation refusing to bear responsibility for something that had happened before they were born. Many who do acknowledge Japan’s war crimes believe that the Japanese state has an obligation to pay for its wartime injustices, but feel no need to take responsibility for the actions themselves as individuals.23 Such sentiments continue to fuel victim’s history.

Takaichi Sanae, as well as the majority of scholars, activists, and cultural figures who have been promoting revisionist views of Japan’s wartime past, belong to the generations that have come to know the war through what Marianne Hirsch has coined “postmemory”—a memory without experience that is inherited through the environment in which one grows up. Unlike their parents and grandparents, those who belong to the postmemory generation never directly experienced war. Rather, they have grown up “dominated by narratives that preceded their birth, whose belated stories are evacuated by the stories of the previous generation [and] shaped by the traumatic events that can be neither understood or recreated.”24 Hirsch, who has examined literature and other forms of culture produced by the children of Holocaust survivors, argues that the descendants of those who have “witnessed massive traumatic events connect so deeply to the previous generation’s remembrances of the past that they identify that connection as a form of memory, and that, in certain extreme circumstances, memory can be transferred to those who were not actually there to live an event.”25 But of course, received memory is different from that of actual witnesses and participants. And received memory continues to be reshaped by the society in which the recipients live. Or perhaps it is not memory that is received. Eva Hoffman, who has also examined children of Holocaust survivors, suggests that what the children inherit is not memory, but rather, what she calls “the emotional traces of the parents’ experiences.”26 Whether memory or emotional traces, what is received by the succeeding generation continues to be reshaped by the society in which the recipients live.

Hirsch and Hoffman are talking about the familial transmission of the Holocaust experience. But the transmission can also be social, as was the case in Japan. For example, those who experienced childhood in 1970s and 80s Japan typically grew up surrounded by narratives that situate Japan and the Japanese as victims of war. Required readings for summer vacations often presented narratives from Japan’s home front: war orphans, destroyed cities, Hiroshima survivors who feared the physical aftereffects of massive radiation, and animals that had to be sacrificed for the war effort. Television dramas featured young protagonists that had lost everything. Even the kinds of works problematized by conservatives such as Hadashi no Gen [Barefoot Gen] depict people as victims of the wartime government.27

These popular cultural representations, in turn, tied the young readers’ parents and grandparents’ narratives to a larger past that was the history of Japan. Narratives of those who experienced hardships and loss of the wartime home front, whose personal experiences were to serve as a lesson for peace, dominated the childhood of many Japanese. The primary voice was that of the former victim (those of the parents and/or grandparents’ generation) preaching that war is bad and therefore we must promote peace. The perpetrator was never identified in the original narrative—the war was something that came and went, like a natural disaster.

Through the experience of growing up surrounded by these narratives, the postmemory generation has come to inherit their parents’ generation’s trauma—the trauma of an all-out war, of hardship and loss. For the postmemory generation, however, this is an elusive trauma without a specific hardship or loss. Through this process of inheritance as postmemory, the war trauma has become the trauma of their people, which they too have come to embody through the environment that they have grown up in, a part of their identity. But the postmemory generation has also inherited another kind of legacy from the war—that of war responsibility. In the post 1995 society, they have encountered constant chatter about Japan’s war responsibility, of their war guilt. The inherited trauma of wartime hardship, then, is deeply intertwined with a pressure of guilt. In attempts to rectify the guilt and the resulting trauma, many have come to embrace the victim’s history in which at least ordinary Japanese are not to be held responsible. Others have turned to revisionist history that echoes the wartime state propaganda that asserted Japan fought the Asia-Pacific War out of self-defense, a narrative that absolves all Japanese, including political leaders, from war responsibility.

Of course the “postmemory generation” is not singular. And even among the supporters of revisionist history, the understanding of the fifteen-year war as well as of the current East Asian memory wars differ typically based on how far removed one is from the war. Unlike the generation that experienced the war, or that were personally acquainted with people who experienced the war, most who are in their thirties or younger today have not experienced specific, personal losses that can be acknowledged or compensated. For this generation, the issue is based on abstract concepts such as responsibility and guilt. As a result, they tend to welcome symbolic gestures that allow them to feel that they are not responsible.

Memory Activists and Victim’s History

One key reason for the persistence of the memory wars in East Asia is the presence of what I have been referring to as victim’s history. According to this history, ordinary Japanese not only do not bear any responsibility for any aspect of the fifteen-year war, but they were in fact victims of both their own government and the Allied air raids (or the atomic bombs or the land battle in Okinawa). The Tokyo Trials that identified war criminals reinforced this belief. But with the Trials long over and those who were found guilty no longer alive, there is no one left to take responsibility for the war. Of course this victim’s history is not really a productive way of thinking about the past. For, as historian Carol Gluck has argued, it takes more than the top political and military leaders (in the case of Japan, the emperor and the convicted war criminals) for a nation to wage a total war. In other words, all Japanese bear some degree of responsibility.28

But here, I would like to turn to the question of where and how this victim’s history emerged. Put another way, when the Japanese think of their wartime experiences as that of victims, whose voices were being heard, whose memories are now being remembered? Whose memories are we relying on now?

The primary way that the Japanese “remember” the war is as victims on the home front, especially of the Allied air raids, which destroyed nearly two hundred cities and killed approximately 330,000 people.29 A concerted effort to collect and preserve memories of local air raids began in the 1960s. In many cities, groups for collecting and recording survivor memories organized in the 1970s. The Tokyo Association to Record Air Raid Experiences (Tokyo Kūshū o Kirokusuru-kai), founded by four survivors of the March 10, 1945 Tokyo air raid—writers Saotome Katsumoto and Arima Yorichika, cultural critic Matsuura Sōzō, and historian Ienaga Saburō—began its activities on August 5, 1970.30 Similar groups quickly followed in several other cities. Most of these groups characterize themselves as the victims of the wartime government, believing that collecting and relaying their wartime suffering to succeeding generations translates to peace promotion.

One impetus for the collection of air raid memories was America’s war in Vietnam. News reports that American bombing on North Vietnam was creating numerous civilian casualties prompted the April 1965 establishment of Beheiren, or the Citizen’s Alliance to Bring Peace to Vietnam. In the midst of the war, in January 1970, Prime Minister Satō Eisaku allowed the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security between Japan and the US [Anpo Treaty, originally concluded in 1960] to be automatically renewed, further fueling Japan’s anti-war movement. Since the treaty enabled the United States to use Japanese land and facilities for military purposes, many Japanese felt a sense of responsibility towards the war in Vietnam. Planes that bombed Northern Vietnam typically took off from American bases in Okinawa, and Japanese factories were produced weapons, ammunitions, and herbicides for the war, while forty percent of planes using Haneda International Airport in Tokyo at the time were chartered by the US military and three-quarters of wounded American soldiers received treatment in Japan.31 According to an Asahi newspaper poll of August 24, 1965, 75 percent of the respondents were opposed to the war in Vietnam, with only 4 percent in support, and 54 percent thought Japan to be in danger of entanglement in the conflict.32

For the men and women that had lived through the Asia-Pacific War, personal experiences of air raids were a powerful impetus to collect memories as a way to oppose the war in Vietnam and promote peace. Many who lived with vivid memories of running through incendiary bomb showers and witnessing mass death felt a particular obligation as well as authority to protest against the U.S. bombing of North Vietnam.33 Their sense of victimhood was key to their thought process. In order to promote real peace, they argued, it was necessary to fully understand the victim experience. In their view, those born after 1945 (the postmemory generation), who had grown up in an environment with no trace of the devastation caused by the war, especially needed to learn from their collection of victim memories before they could oppose the war in Vietnam. Air raid survivors were also apprehensive that memories of the Japanese war experience were fading (sensō taiken no fūka) alongside the dramatic societal changes during Japan’s high economic growth period of the 1960s. Many concurrently worried that war memories were starting to become aestheticized, as narratives lionizing Imperial Japan’s military death began to appear.34

At the time, however, there were multiple, competing interpretations of the war. For example, in 1966, Oda Makoto, novelist, chairman of Beheiren, and a child victim of the Osaka bombing of 1945, wrote a scathing critique of war experience narratives that were constructed from the viewpoint of the victim. He argued against victimhood consciousness and called for a “personal sense of involvement [in the war] and responsibility [for the involvement].”35 There also were generational rifts during this period, with some youths accusing the generation that lived through the war of collaborating with Japanese militarism. The notorious 1969 vandalism at Ritsumeikan University of the Wadatsumi statue, which commemorates fallen student soldiers, is one manifestation of this rift.36

At least during this time period, it was possible for generational differences in the remembrance of the war to coexist, and there were efforts to discuss, communicate, and reconcile these differences at least within Japan. There was no need for a unified collective Japanese narrative of the war in the Cold War geopolitical order. But what I want to point out here is that efforts were made to record and preserve numerous voices from the home front, of the air raids, and of Japanese suffering in the final months of the Asia-Pacific War.

In addition to the collection and preservation of memories, these memory activists took on the task of collecting artifacts associated with air raids. Many such collections developed into municipal peace museums, of which Peace Osaka mentioned earlier was one. Some wrote memoirs, children’s books, and novels based on their experience. War-themed commercial films and television dramas with a focus on the home front experience also began to receive attention in the 1970s and 80s. Other kinds of war stories, especially from the battlefields, existed, but for the most part, these were not personal narratives, but rather, popular military histories involving battle strategies, fighter planes and aircraft carriers. Primary voices came from the home front.37 Most depicted the air raids without identifying the perpetrator.

These home front narratives of air raid experience that situated the Japanese as victims ironically resonated with the way that the US framed Japanese war memory during the occupation period—the Japanese were the victims, of their own government, of aerial bombing of their cities. More specifically, the Japanese were the victims of “the war”—not the “Greater East Asia War,” as Japan’s wartime leaders called it, not the “Pacific War,” as SCAP renamed it, not the “Asia-Pacific War,” generally accepted today in intellectual communities, but a generic war. A generic evil.

The proponents of the victim’s history are also proud supporters of Article 9, as the non-war clause of the Japanese Constitution completes their redemptive myth. The generation growing up in the 70s and 80s was told that the peace and prosperity that Japan enjoyed came as a result of the suffering and loss experienced by the wartime generation. For Japan to rise up from the ashes like a phoenix, the war was necessary, they were told. The redemptive myth held strong, until Japan’s economic bubble burst in the early 1990s.

The generation that came of age during and after the mid-1990s—the time of official apologies, the time when criticisms from East Asia crescendoed—never experienced the economic progress or the prosperity that Japan enjoyed for decades after the war. For many in this generation, Article 9 does not symbolize the redemptive myth, but rather, stands in the way of Japan’s path to becoming a “normal country” with its own military. This is not to say that all Japanese that belong to this generation support the revisionist narrative. Many from this generation consider Article 9 a source of pride, a quality that allows their country to be exceptional. But here, too, it is about political positions: Article 9 for the supporters symbolizes peace. Peace as a generic good; peace as an antithesis of war as a generic evil.

Postwar responsibility

The concept of “postwar responsibility” offers some possibilities for escaping this reactionary trend.38 This concept is concerned not so much with accepting responsibility for the war and its associated crimes, but rather, for the postwar responses. The “responsibility” in this approach is therefore not for the acts committed during the war, but for ending the present international tension resulting from the unresolved issues from the war, which can only be successfully executed through reconciliation. Of course the issue of who is responsible still remains unresolved and scholars differ on this point. Renowned historian and activist Ienaga Saburō, for example, has argued for a collective responsibility that transcends experience or age groups: that since the postwar generations have benefited from the peace and prosperity built on the Japanese war experience, it is necessary for all Japanese to bear responsibility.39 Others argue that responsibility is not based on nationality, but should be founded upon a critical assessment and understanding of Japan’s imperial past: that postwar generations should not be forced to inherit war responsibility without rational reasoning or acceptable explanation.40 While many scholars have actively, and often transnationally, contributed to the discourse on Japan’s war responsibility in recent years, it seems that the concept of people’s responsibility has yet to take hold among the general public in Japan.41 Further, there is no safe public space for education on war responsibility since the topic is always heavily politicized. War responsibility has become a political position rather than a problem that needs to be understood, acknowledged, and resolved.

Another way to think about war responsibility is through the concept of citizenship. Citizenship entails both rights and responsibilities. It is thus possible, on the one hand, to argue that as citizens, all Japanese—including those who were born after the war—need to bear responsibility for Japan’s wartime past. But on the other hand, it is also possible to argue that in wartime Japan, most people (and women in particular) were not full citizens of Japan, when we take into account the extremely limited nature of democracy prior to 1945. Or, perhaps we can think about the concept some political theorists call “individual national responsibility,” which is responsibility for acts performed by others (dead or alive) who belongs (or belonged) to the same nation.

In the summer of 2015, the seventieth anniversary of Japan’s defeat, tens of thousands of Japanese protested in front of the National Diet Building to oppose Abe’s reinterpretation of the Collective Self Defense Bill. The protest was led by the SEALDs, a student group that spearheaded a number of anti-defense bill activities. They were standing up against the conservative turn that had been the norm for two decades since 1995. The protest has now expanded into an anti-government and anti-war rally more generally.42 But this ongoing activism in its current form, in which protestors single out top lawmakers as the culprit, remains within the framework of victim’s history. The protestors merely criticize government policies and strategies and accuse lawmakers of deception without offering possible solutions or, perhaps more importantly, publicly engaging in a self-reflective analysis by asking the important question: “why and how did we arrive at where we are today?”

Nevertheless, this kind of activism has much potential to transform into a demonstration of postwar responsibility. What is needed here is a more inclusive approach to these anti-war protests—an approach that includes consideration for the pain of others, of people who might become enemies if Japan were to take up arms; an approach that includes a reflection on Japan’s past deeds. If Japanese people are not to take up arms because they do not want to go to war, or because they do not want their loved ones to go to war, the intent can and should also be expanded to potential opponents: an intent not to go to war because the act may inflict injury on citizens of other nations. And by extension, it is also possible to argue that Japanese people should not go to war so that they would not have to injure citizens of other nations, as they had done during the fifteen years between 1931 and 1945. An anti-war protest by Japanese youth that includes such demands is a much more powerful statement of acknowledgment and responsibility than any words a sitting prime minister can utter.




SEALDs (Students Emergency Action for Liberal Democracy)

Notes
1

Tokyo Asahi shinbun, November 5, 2015; November 13, 2015.
2

Uemura Takashi with Tomomi Yamaguchi, "Labeled the reporter who "fabricated" the comfort woman issue: A Rebuttal", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 2, No. 1, January 12, 2015.
3

Akiko Takenaka, “Reactionary Nationalism and Museum Controversies: The Case of ‘Peace Osaka’,” The Public Historian 36.2 (Spring 2014), 75-98; Philip Seaton, "The Nationalist Assault on Japan’s Local Peace Museums: The Conversion of Peace Osaka", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 30, No. 2, July 27, 2015.
4

Akiko Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine: History, Memory, and Japan’s Unending Postwar (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2015).
5

Laura Hein and Mark Selden eds., Censoring History: Citizenship and Memory in Japan, Germany and the United States (Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 2000).
6

Asahi shinbun, January 11, 1992.
7

The foundation closed on March 31, 2007 but still exists today in the form of a digital museum.
8

Hashimoto Ryūtarō, who succeeded the socialist Prime Minister Murayama Tomiichi on January 11, 1996, had—until shortly before he assumed premiership—been the president of the Japan Bereaved Families Association (Nippon Izokukai), the powerful lobbyist group with strong ties to Yasukuni Shrine.
9

From official website.
10

Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine.
11

Kobayashi Yoshinori has authored a number of popular graphic novels that explain key postwar issues such as war responsibility, Yasukuni Shrine and the imperial family. Journalist and commentator Sakurai Yoshiko is a prolific author of texts that promote neo-conservative views of Japan. Hyakuta Naoki is the author of the best-selling novel Eien no zero, which depicts a young man’s journey to learn about the military life of his late grandfather who was a tokkō pilot. He is also known for his friendly dialogues with Prime Minister Abe Shinzō.
12

For more recent developments, see, Norma Field and Tomomi Yamaguchi, Introduction, '“Comfort Woman” Revisionism Comes to the U.S.: Symposium on The Revisionist Film Screening Event at Central Washington University', The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 21, No. 1, June 1, 2015; Tomomi Yamaguchi and Normal Field, "The Impact of “Comfort Woman” Revisionism on the Academy, the Press, and the Individual: Symposium on the U.S. Tour of Uemura Takashi", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 33, No. 1, August 17, 2015.
13

The shrine was owned and operated by the Japanese state until February 1946, when it became a private institution to satisfy the SCAP issued Shinto Directive, which separated Shinto from the Japanese government. For details on the lawsuits that resulted from the “pain and suffering,” see Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine.
14

Yoshida Yutaka, Nihonjin no sensōkan: sengoshi no naka no hen’yō (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995), 7.
15

Yoshida Yutaka, Nihonjin no sensōkan, 7.
16

Carol Gluck, “Sekinin/Responsibility in Modern Japan,” in Gluck and Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing eds., Words in Motion: Toward A Global Lexicon (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2009), 97.
17

Iris Chang, The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II (New York: Basic Books, 1997).
18

Yoshida, Nihonjin no sensōkan, 55.
19

Ernest Renan, “What is a Nation?” lecture delivered at the Sorbonne on March 11, 1882.
20

Nihon keizai shinbun, March 17, 1995.
21

Tokyo Asahi shinbun, March 18, 1995.
22

“Editorial,” Kikan sensō sekinin kenkyū no. 11 (Spring, 1996), 2-9. Takaichi currently is Minister of Internal Affairs and Communications in the Abe administration. Her comment may have been a result of her conservative leanings, but the youths’ identification with her statement is worth noting.
23

According to a 2005 poll by the conservative Yomiuri newspaper, only 5 percent responded that the general public bore some responsibility for the war. A 2006 poll by the liberal Asahi newspaper yielded somewhat different results: 39 percent believed that the general public had some responsibility, while 43 percent responded that they were not responsible at all. But respondents to both polls placed the primary blame on the military and political leaders. Yomiuri Shinbun Sensō Sekinin Kenshō Iinkai ed., Kenshō sensō sekinin vol. 1 (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 2006), 208-9; Asahi Shinbun Shuzaihan, Sensō sekinin to tsuitō vol. 1 (Tokyo: Asahi shinbunsha, 2006), 230-31.
24

Marianne Hirsch, “Past Lives: Postmemories in Exile,” Poetics Today (17.4): 659-86; here, 662.
25

Marianne Hirsch, The Generation of Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture after the Holocaust (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), 3.
26

Eva Hoffman, After Such Knowledge: Memory, History, and the Legacy of the Holocaust (New York: Public Affairs, 2004).
27

In 2012, Matsue City Board of Education made a recommendation to local elementary and junior high schools to remove the graphic novel series from school libraries in response to complaints from members of citizens group Zaitokukai, a group that seeks to eliminate what they consider as privileges extended to Korean residents of Japan. Similar requests also occurred in Tottori City and Izumisano City around the same time. Most schools initially complied to the requests, but subsequently returned the books to their open stacks.
28

Carol Gluck, “The Idea of Showa,” in Gluck and Stephen R. Graubard eds., Showa: The Japan of Hirohito (New York: W.W. Norton, 1992), 1-26.
29

Detailed information on the air raids is available at the online archive.
30

For the early history of the group, see here [last accessed August 1, 2014].
31

Oguma Eiji, “Minshu” to “aikoku”: sengo Nihon no nashonarizumu to kōkyōsei (Tokyo: Shin’yōsha, 2002), 588-589.
32

Oguma, “Minshu” to “aikoku,” 589.
33

Koyama Hitoshi, Nihon kūshū no zen’yō: Mariana kichi B29 butai (Tokyo: Tōhō shuppan, 1995), 252.
34

Oguma, “Minshu” to “aikoku,” 589.
35

Oda Makoto, Betonamu no Amerikajin (Tokyo: Gōdō shuppan, 1966).
36

On May 20, 1969, members of Ritsumeikan University Zenkyōtō (United Front of All Students) vandalized the Wadatsumi statue that commemorates the student soldier war dead arguing that the generation that lived through the war had collaborated with Japanese fascism. “If you were against war, why didn’t you throw away your guns? Why didn’t you run away from the battlefield?” they protested. Oguma “Minshu” to “aikoku,” 595.
37

For an analysis of personal war narratives from the battlefields, see Narita Ryūichi, “Sensō keiken” no sengoshi: katarareta taiken, shōgen, kioku (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2010).
38

The word postwar responsibility has existed since the 1970s, but it has been mobilized in the last two decades to result in a flurry of publications that use the term in order to interrogate ways to conceive of innovative ideas for breaking through the stagnant postwar. For recent discussions on postwar responsibility, see, for example, Ōnuma Yasuaki, Tokyo saiban, sensō sekinin, sengo sekinin (Tokyo: Tōshindō, 2007); Takahashi Tetsuya, Sengo sekinin ron (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2005); and Kōketsu Atsushi, Watashi tachi no sensō sekinin: “Showa” shoki 20 nen to “Heisei” ki 20 nen no rekishi teki kōsatsu (Tokyo: Gaifūsha, 2009).
39

Ienaga Saburō, Sensō sekinin (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2002).
40

See, for example, Kōketsu Atsuhi, Watashi tachi no sensō sekinin (Tokyo: Gaifūsha, 2009), and Takahashi Tetsuya, Sengo sekinin ron (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2005).
41

Examples of transnational scholarship include Daqing Yang et al. eds., Towards a History Beyond Borders: Contentious Issues in Sino-Japanese Relations (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 2012); Hasegawa, Tsuyoshi and Togo, Kazuhiko. East Asia’s Haunted Present: Historical Memories and the Resurgence of Nationalism (Westport: Praeger Security International, 2008); Kawakami Tamio et al. eds. Kaikyō no ryōgawa kara Yasukuni o kangaeru: hisen, chinkon, Ajia (Tokyo: Oruta Shppanshitsu, 2006).
42

SEALDs has announced its official dissolution on August 15, 2017, but members assert that they will continue their political activism in different forms.

Neonationalism, Religion, and Patriotic Education in Post-disaster Japan | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus

Neonationalism, Religion, and Patriotic Education in Post-disaster Japan | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus






Neonationalism, Religion, and Patriotic Education in Post-disaster Japan


Mark R. Mullins
October 15, 2016
Volume 14 | Issue 20 | Number 5
Article ID 4964








Source: Mie Network in Opposition to Forced Use of Flag and Anthem in Public Schools「日の丸・君が代」の強制を許さない三重ネットワーク


INTRODUCTION

Recent decades have seen a rise in religious nationalism around the world, and Japan is no exception. Over the past two decades there has been a significant rightward shift in Japanese politics and this trend is closely related to organized religion and its affiliated political efforts to “recover” or “restore” what had been destroyed during the Allied Occupation of Japan (1945-52). Our focus here is on the close connection between the Association of Shintō Shrines (Jinja Honchō) and many politicians belonging to the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP). This Association, which was organized in 1946, has some 80,000 affiliated shrines throughout the country and has been the base institution for Shintō nationalism throughout the postwar period.

According to Ueda Kenji, the beginnings of a “restoration movement” can be traced back to the early 1950s. The social status and “public character” of shrine Shinto had been undermined by the Shintō Directive issued by the Supreme Commander of Allied Powers (SCAP) in late 1945, and the strict application of Articles 20 and 89 of the postwar Constitution from 1947, which defined a clear separation of religion and state. As soon as the San Francisco Peace Treaty was concluded in 1952, Ueda points out, the Association of Shintō Shrines began to work actively on numerous fronts to “restore Shintō to its lost status and to revitalize the old tradition” (Ueda 1979, pp. 303-305).

In the following decades, the Association of Shintō Shrines nurtured the development of a number of affiliated groups to achieve its restoration goals. These groups, such as the Association for the Re-establishment of National Foundation Day (1957), the League Promoting Ties between Politics and Shintō (Shintō Seiji Renmei, 1969), which is known today as the “Shintō Association of Spiritual Leadership” (Shinseiren), the Association for Rectification of the Relationship between Religion and State (Seikyō Kankei o Tadasu Kai, 1971), and the Association to Preserve Japan (Nihon o Mamoru Kai, 1974), were all mobilized by Jinja Honchō in their efforts to reverse the various reforms that had been instituted by the government under the direction of the Occupation authorities.

These groups worked closely with the LDP to bring their political agenda and various initiatives to the Diet for action. One key concern was to renew support for the Emperor and the role of the Imperial Household in postwar public life. Two successful efforts related to this concern were the movements to restore National Foundation Day (Kenkoku kinen no hi; known as Kigensetsu in the prewar period), which was finally re-established in 1966, and the reign-name legalization movement, which was achieved with the passing of the Reign-Name Law (Gengōhō) in 1979.

In spite of these achievements, there were a number of equally important goals that were not reached during this same period. In addition to elevating the position of the Emperor and Imperial Household in national life, Shinseiren had clearly stated that its other high priorities were to revise the Constitution, to properly care for the enshrined Shōwa martyrs by renationalizing Yasukuni Shrine, and restore moral and patriotic education in the public schools.1 These were to become the focus of renewed attention after 1995.

NEONATIONALISM IN THE POST-DISASTER CONTEXT

As many observers have noted, the “double disaster” of 1995—the Awaji-Hanshin earthquake in January and the Aum Shinrikyō subway sarin gas attack in March—created a sense of social crisis and a situation that emboldened neonationalistic leaders (Mullins 2012; 2015). While traumatic at the time, the scale of this pales in comparison with the March 11/2011 “triple disaster”—earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi plant—which brought devastation to the Tōhoku region and overwhelmed the nation with a sense of loss. The religio-political right-wing has gained support for their restorationist vision and agenda in this seemingly precarious environment over the past two decades. During the administrations of eight Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) governments in the post-1995 context, one can document a renewed effort to pass legislation to restore and strengthen patriotic education in public schools, to promote “official” Yasukuni Shrine visits (kōshiki sanpai), and to revise the Constitution of Japan.

When considered in isolation, some of these developments may appear unrelated to religion—and they probably are without religious significance for many individuals whose lives are shaped by the new policies (in public schools, for example); however, when taken all together and seen in relation to the political agenda and goals of the Association of Shinto Shrines and its political arm, Shinseiren, they are clearly a part of a Shinto religious vision aimed at reshaping the whole of Japanese society and not just those individuals affiliated with Shinto institutions. Patriotic education, for example, may indeed be based on nonreligious foundations. In the case of Prime Minister Abe Shinzō, however, an active member and chairperson of Shinseiren, who pushed through the revision of the Fundamental Education Law in 2006, it is clearly rooted in the religious beliefs and values promoted by the Association of Shinto Shrines.

One indicator of the neonationalistic resurgence in the post-disaster context may be seen in the revitalization of an older organization like Shinseiren and in the formation of new organizations. One of the newer groups that should be mentioned here is the Nippon Kaigi (“Japan Conference”), which was formed through a merger of Nippon o Mamoru Kai with another nationalistic group, Nippon o Mamoru Kokumin Kaigi, in 1997. According to the group’s publications and homepage, its mission is to rebuild a beautiful and independent Japan, which necessarily includes restoring proper respect for the Emperor and Japanese traditions, patriotic education, revision of the Constitution, and support for official visits (kōshiki sanpai) to Yasukuni Shrine. It claims a nationwide network of some 100,000 members, including some 100 Diet members who are associated with branches in local towns and communities from Hokkaidō to Okinawa.2 This organization has gained support from across the spectrum of Japanese society and includes prominent leaders from the business, legal, and academic worlds. While it is not a religious organization per se, some 20 out of 54 board members are religious leaders drawn from well-known Shintō institutions—Yasukuni Shrine, Meiji Shrine, and the Association of Shintō Shrines—as well as representatives from such new religions as Reiyūkai, Sūkyō Mahikari, Gedatsukai, and Kurozumikyō.

Here it must be recognized that this newer organization is essentially providing a broader base of support for the central concerns and agenda that have been pursued for decades by Shinseiren and its supporters in the LDP. The number of LDP politicians affiliated with this older Shintō political organization has increased significantly in post-disaster Japan. In 1984, there were only 44 Diet members claimed by this association, but this grew to 204 by late 2013, and to 268 in 2014, which represents 37 percent of the total Diet membership of 722. The percentage of Shinseiren members in the Abe Cabinet in 2012 had reached 14 (73.7%), and it has increased again to 16 out of 19 members (84.2%) in 2015.3

Over the past two decades, religious and political leaders have renewed their efforts to restore key elements of the social order that preceded the Occupation period. While promotion of Yasukuni Shrine has proved controversial—both domestically and internationally—and efforts to revise the Constitution have only been restarted since the return of the LDP and Prime Minister Abe came to power in late 2012, some restoration goals related to patriotic education have already been achieved through legislation passed by the Diet. Today there are new laws and regulations in place, which clearly reflect the agenda of the groups and political leaders mentioned above. Many critics claim that “coercion” has been brought back into public institutions as a result of these legislative victories. Given their significant social impact, they deserve more focused consideration here.

PATRIOTIC EDUCATION

The restoration of patriotic education in post-disaster Japan is closely related to the legislation passed by the Diet in 1999, which made the Kimigayo (national anthem) and Hinomaru (national flag) the “official” symbols of Japan, and the revision of the Fundamental Education Law (Kyōiku kihonhō) in 2006, which reinserted patriotic moral education into public schools. Although widely accepted as Japan’s national symbols from years of use, the Kimigayo and Hinomaru had never been officially approved as such by any government administration. It was in 1958 that the Ministry of Education first instructed (gakushū shidōyōryō) public schools that it was “desirable” for the Hinomaru to be raised and the Kimigayo sung at official school events (entrance and graduation ceremonies). Under these “soft” guidelines, however, compliance rates were not too impressive.

Some political leaders reasoned that the problems surrounding use of these symbols in public institutions could be resolved if they were “officially” recognized by passing legislation in the Diet. Prime Minister Tanaka Kakuei expressed an interest in legislation to officially recognize these national symbols in 1974, but it would not be achieved for over two more decades. It was not until 1999, during the administration of Prime Minister Obuchi Keizō, that the Diet would finally—after considerable debate—approve the flag and anthem as the official symbols of the nation. At the time this legislation was being debated in the Diet, Prime Minister Obuchi assured the public that no coercion would ever be involved in public institutions if the bill were approved.4 In spite of such assurances, public intellectuals and representatives of Christian churches, including various Protestant denominations and the Roman Catholic Church, raised serious concerns about this legislation. Just four days before the legislation was passed, the Japan Catholic Council on Justice and Peace and several Protestant bodies issued a joint declaration addressed to the Prime Minister and representatives of the LDP and Kōmeitō —its coalition partner—to express their strong opposition to the legalization initiative. The declaration stated that if the legislation was passed, it would undoubtedly lead to coercion and a violation of the individual rights and freedoms—thought, conscience, belief—that are protected by the Constitution. In particular, it expressed concern for public school teachers who might be forced to provide leadership in the ritual use of the Hinomaru and Kimigayo against their will.

It turns out that these religious minorities had legitimate concerns. The action of the Diet strengthened the position of politicians and educators who felt it was their duty to have all teachers and staff lead students by example in singing the national anthem before the flag for important school ceremonies. Instructions were soon issued by the Ministry of Education for how these symbols should be integrated into the calendar and curriculum of public schools, particularly for official entrance and graduation ceremonies. The strict enforcement of these new policies soon followed in two major metropolitan public school systems under the authoritarian leadership of Ishihara Shintarō, the former governor of Tokyo, and, more recently, Hashimoto Tōru, the Mayor of Ōsaka.

Initially, there were many protests against these new policies by both teachers and students in various schools across the nation. Some members of the leftist teachers’ union, Nikkyōso, argued that these symbols were unsuitable for use in the schools since they had been used for the mobilization of both teachers and students in wartime Japan. As Okada (2013, p. 11) observes, many union members actively resisted the efforts to reintroduce the flag and anthem back into the public schools and rallied under the catch-phase “we will not send our students to the battlefield.” Even before the intensification of “guidance” from the Ministry of Education, a number of teachers had already been disciplined for failing to comply with the 1989 guidelines. The pressure on teachers to fall in line was intensified in the Tokyo schools from October 23, 2003, when the Tokyo Education Committee issued an order for all teachers and staff to participate in leading students in singing the Kimigayo before the Hinomaru for entrance and graduation ceremonies or face disciplinary action (the committee, of course, was under the direction of the well-known nationalist and hardliner Governor Ishihara).

Anticipating a range of disciplinary action for non-compliance to this order, 228 teachers launched a pre-emptive lawsuit (yobō soshō) in January 2004 against the Tokyo Metropolitan Board of Education to protect themselves. In their view, this educational policy was a clear violation of Article 19 of the Constitution, which protects freedom of conscience.5 The lawsuit asked the court to (1) clearly state that teachers had no duty or obligation to sing the national anthem, (2) instruct the Board that they should not follow through with the disciplinary action threatened in the October 23 statement, and (3) confirm that music teachers could not be compelled to provide piano accompaniment for the anthem at school ceremonies (Okada 2007, p. 14). The number of plaintiffs quickly grew to 401 teachers, and their concerns were represented by a group of some 50 lawyers over the course of 14 court hearings. The teachers could clearly see what was coming under Ishihara’s Board of Education. In March 2004, some 180 teachers in the Tokyo Public School system were reprimanded for failing to comply and properly guide their students in these patriotic events.

In 2006, a decision of the Tokyo District Court gave these teachers some temporary reassurance that their rights would be protected by the Constitution. On September 21, presiding judge Namba Kōichi found that the Tokyo School Board’s directive was invalid. As Lawrence Repeta’s) helpful review of this case notes, Namba acknowledged that the flag and anthem had been used in the recent past as a “spiritual support” for Japanese imperialism and militarism, and these symbols have not yet “attained a status of political and religious neutrality among the people” (2007, p. 3). In this context, he concluded, it would be a violation of freedom of thought and conscience to force a teacher to sing or provide musical accompaniment for the anthem against their will.

“CIVIC DUTIES” VERSUS “RELIGIOUS RIGHTS”

At least two Christian teachers were involved in this initial legal action and one (Okada) was called to provide testimony as a person of faith for why he opposed and refused the order to lead students in the anthem. In addition to appealing to Article 10 of the Fundamental Education Law, which prohibits the political intervention into education, and Article 19 of the Constitution, which guarantees freedom of thought and conscience, Okada and other Christians regard forced participation as a violation of Article 20, which guarantees religious freedom: “No person shall be compelled to take part in any religious act, celebration, rite, or practice.” For them, singing the anthem constitutes a religious act—ritual praise of the Emperor and his reign—and to participate would violate their personal faith.

Given the history of Christian churches in wartime Japan, these teachers are concerned that they are again being forced to compromise their faith through participation in the civil religious rites at schools. Some teachers have reached back to the Tokugawa period in search of other parallels, and compared their experience of required participation in these patriotic rituals to what was expected of Kirishitan in the Tokugawa period: The followers of the “foreign” and evil religion (jakyō) were forced to step on a sacred object (fumie) to deny their Catholic faith in order to survive (Takahashi 1998, p. 177).6 For these religious minorities, the use of the flag and anthem in this way has become a humiliating public “test” of their identity and loyalty as Japanese.

Although various denominations and churches issued letters of concern to the Prime Minister and government officials over the legislation passed by the Diet and the guidelines issued by the Ministry of Education, churches have been rather slow to become active supporters of individual Christians struggling with legal action in the Courts. A support group for Christian teachers—Hinomaru Kimigayo Kyōsei Mondai ni Torikumu Kai—was finally formed in July 2008 by the Human Rights Committee of the Tokyo Diocese of the Anglican Church. This was initially to encourage two church members and teachers employed by public schools in Tokyo: Kishida Shizue, an elementary school music teacher and pianist; and Iguro Yutaka, a teacher in a Tokyo Toritsu High School. In February 2010 this was expanded into an ecumenical trans-denominational support group, which included various Protestant churches and the Roman Catholic Church. These groups and other churches have been organizing special meetings in Tokyo and Ōsaka to raise the consciousness of Christians over the issues and to provide some moral support for teachers still involved in prolonged lawsuits and hearings over disciplinary action.

For the teachers on the frontlines, however, this is undoubtedly perceived as “too little and too late.” At one of the support group meetings organized by the Human Rights Committee of the Tokyo Diocese of the Anglican Church in 2011, I heard several teachers express exasperation at the lack of support from their own denomination or congregation. In spite of some official statements and letters of support from denominational officials, the vast majority of church members tend to embrace a more private and pietistic faith and avoid engaging social and political issues. They regularly admonish the “radical” teachers to be good citizens. Japanese Christians are divided over what constitutes legitimate grounds for resistance to government or public school directives. Some regard the civic rites simply as “religiously neutral” patriotic expressions and find no problem with going along; they have little sympathy for the Christian teachers stirring up trouble and siding with the radical elements of the Teachers’ Union. Most other religious bodies, including Buddhist institutions and New Religions, regard these patriotic rituals as religiously neutral and have largely remained silent on the issue.

REVISION OF THE FUNDAMENTAL EDUCATION LAW

It is not surprising that Governor Ishihara and the Tokyo School Board appealed the 2006 Tokyo District Court decision that supported the teachers. To the dismay of the plaintiffs, the Supreme Court ruled on 30 May 2011 that it was not a violation of the Constitution for a principal to instruct and require teachers and staff to stand and sing the Kimigayo in front of the national flag at school ceremonies. This Supreme Court decision is undoubtedly related to the revision of the Fundamental Education Law (Kyōiku kihonhō) by the Diet in 2006, which “restored” patriotic moral education as a central component of public education and legitimized the use of the flag and anthem in public schools.

The movement to revise the education law can be traced back to discussions that began in the 1960s, but it was Prime Minister Abe Shinzō, a well-known nationalistic leader and member of both Shinseiren and Nippon Kaigi (at the time, 12 of the 18 members of Abe’s Cabinet were also members of the latter group), who finally pushed the legislation through the Diet. His tactics alienated many, however. In an effort to raise public support for revisions of the education law, for example, the government collected opinions and comments from both specialists and citizens at large, and even organized “Town Meetings” to discuss the proposed revision. It turns out that this was not really “democracy” in action. As Hardacre reports: “When it emerged in late 2006 that the government had paid agents to speak in support of the revision proposal at these Town Meetings, Prime Minister Abe and others in his cabinet apologized and returned their salaries to the public purse. The Prime Minister declared, however, that the revision itself was not the problem, and the government pressed on to promulgate it” (2011, pp. 207-208).

In spite of his downfall and resignation in September 2007 due to a series of scandals, corruption allegations, and ineffective cabinet reshuffles, Abe nevertheless achieved significant results during his term in office and left behind a more regulated school system with a particular type of moral and patriotic education in place. Of course, the revision of the Fundamental Education Law was only one part of his larger vision for Japan that he laid out in a book entitled Utsukushii kuni e [Toward a beautiful country] (2006), a popular volume published just three months after the revised law was passed by the Diet. While Abe and his supporters firmly believe that this has laid the foundation for a “beautiful Japan,” critics maintain that the individual rights guaranteed by the Constitution have been undermined, and the revised law constitutes a radical shift in the educational system from one that seeks to nurture individual character to one aimed at cultivating individuals who will comply with the policies of the state.

While many may regard these patriotic rituals as religiously neutral, those promoting them are equally concerned to increase public support for Yasukuni Shrine, an institution registered as a religious corporation (shūkyō hōjin), by encouraging “official visits” (kōshiki sanpai) by government officials and through the development of educational materials for public schools. Shortly after the new Fundamental Education Law was passed by the Diet, an animated DVD entitled Hokori (“Pride”) was distributed to public schools under the auspices of the Ministry of Education in 2007. Produced by the Nihon Seinen Kaigisho as a part of the Ministry’s “Program for the Development of a New Educational System,” it was shown or scheduled for viewing in 93 different locations throughout Japan between February and June. This DVD contains a scene in which the spirit of a deceased soldier appears to a high school girl and invites her back to Yasukuni to remember those who died in defense of the homeland and for their love of country. The DVD as a whole essentially promotes the revisionist history as presented by Yūshūkan, the museum attached to Yasukuni Shrine. On May 17, 2007, Prime Minister Abe was questioned and criticized in the Diet by Ishii Ikuko, a member of the Communist Party, about this controversial DVD and his policies that allowed for it to be produced and distributed under the auspices of the Ministry of Education.7 This critical response appears to have been effective as public showings were apparently stopped and copies do not seem to be available.

It appears that disciplinary action against teachers in public schools is likely to continue and, perhaps, increase. On 5 June 2011—in an action resembling that of the Tokyo Education Committee in 2003—the Osaka Prefectural Assembly passed the Kimigayo jōrei, an ordinance that requires all teachers and staff employed by public schools in its jurisdiction to stand and sing the Kimigayo at all official school ceremonies. This ordinance, which was pushed through the Assembly by Governor Hashimoto Tōru, had the strong support of both the Osaka Ishin no Kai and Nippon Kaigi (Japan Conference) members. 8 Like Ishihara, the former governor of Tokyo, Hashimoto is another authoritarian figure and “enforcer,” a person who has little patience for those who disagree with his position. He also uses social media effectively to promote his views and belittle his opponents. During the time the Kimigayo jōrei was being debated in Osaka, media savvy Hashimoto “tweeted” the following message to his 1.18 million followers on Twitter:

What is beneficial for the students is more important than freedom of conscience for the stupid teachers (baka kyōin). The teachers at public schools are public servants of Japan. They make their living off of our taxes. If they don’t like the national flag and anthem, they should resign from their position. There is freedom not to stand and refrain from singing the national anthem, but only for citizens who are not public servants (kōmuin).9

The local ordinance passed under Hashimoto’s leadership in Osaka, of course, simply reinforced the directives from the Ministry of Education, but it was soon followed with additional action that laid out more clearly the punishments for those who failed to comply. As a result of the hard line stance taken in Tokyo and Osaka, many teachers have since been disciplined, fined, suspended, or reassigned to schools that require a longer commute.

It is ironic that in pushing this agenda through the school system, the LDP politicians and their network of supporting groups are in fact going against the expressed will of the Emperor, the very person who constitutes the raison d’être of the entire “restoration” enterprise. In 2004, when questioned by a member of the Tokyo Education Committee about the use of the flag and anthem in the schools, Emperor Akihito responded that it was preferable for it not to be a forced activity.10 As we have seen, however, neonationalists have continued to pursue a policy of coercion in public schools in spite of their expressed devotion to the Emperor. It is not just the issue of patriotic education that reveals the growing gap between the far right of the LDP and the Imperial Household. Emperor Hirohito’s own actions—avoidance of Yasukuni Shrine visits since the enshrinement of class A war criminals in 1978—and recent public statements by both Emperor Akihito and Crown Prince Naruhito,11 indicate both are concerned to remember the wartime suffering of Japan’s neighbors and share and a deep appreciation for the “Peace Constitution,” which puts them at odds with the larger neonationalistic agenda of Prime Minister Abe and his revisionist supporters. Sooner or later, this divide will have to be addressed.

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE: POST-3.11 DEVELOPMENTS

The unprecedented triple disaster of 2011—earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear accident—shocked the nation and overwhelmed the leadership of the governing Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ). The DPJ was already in trouble, but the scale of this disaster and inadequate responses by the national government paved the way for the return of the LDP. After the three-year hiatus under the leadership of three successive DPJ Prime Ministers, the LDP made a comeback in December 2012, and Abe Shinzō began his second tenure as Prime Minister. Although his initial focus has been on revitalizing the Japanese economy, it was clear from the beginning that there was more to his agenda than “Abenomics.” Abe quickly renewed the call for revision of the Constitution. As noted in many speeches, his homepage, and in his popular Utsukushii kuni e, he believes that Japan’s true independence and escape from the postwar regime will only be achieved when the postwar Constitution is revised (2006, pp. 28-29).

While revision of Article 9—the central pillar of the “peace Constitution”—is one key goal of Abe and his supporters, there are a number of proposed revisions recommended by the Liberal Democratic Party, which are a cause of serious concern for the leaders of a wide-range of religious groups.12 As we have seen, protest against the government’s initiatives for patriotic education was largely limited to the shrinking secular left, members of the Teachers’ Union, and a few religious minorities; opposition to the proposed revisions to the Constitution, however, will undoubtedly face more serious resistance. Given the impact of legalization of the flag and anthem in 1999 and the revision of the Fundamental Education Law in 2006, many more religious groups are troubled by the LDP’s proposed revision of Articles 20 and 89, which in their current form clearly define the separation of religion and state and protect religious freedom. The proposed changes in the current articles would have serious implications for the status and treatment of the controversial Yasukuni Shrine.

In its current form, Article 20 of the Constitution of Japan (1947) prohibits any state support, promotion, or coercion with respect to religious education or activities:

Freedom of religion is guaranteed to all. No religious organization shall receive any privileges from the State, nor exercise any political authority.

No person shall be compelled to take part in any religious act, celebration, rite or practice.

The State and its organs shall refrain from religious education or any other religious activity.

The draft proposal by the LDP suggests an additional phrase of qualification, that is, prohibiting any state support for religious activities that transcend “social ritual or custom” (shakaiteki girei mata wa shūzokuteki kōi no han’i o koeru). The language used here would clearly allow for some ritual activity in educational institutions redefined as a “social custom,” which approximates the strategy used by the government in relation to State Shintō until 1945. The same clause added to Article 89, which currently prohibits public funds being expended on or for religious institutions, would allow public money to be used in support of activities redefined as social ritual or customary practices.

Buddhist scholar and activist Hishiki Masaharu points out that the educational goal of nurturing “tolerance” in students will inevitably be subverted if things designated as “customs” are no longer subject to the constitutional principle of separation. It will create conditions that will allow “intolerance” to masquerade as “tolerance,” but coercion will become the new reality (2007, p. 62). If the revised law is ever approved, he explains, it will likely be used to identify such activities as jichinsai (land purification ceremony), as well as Yasukuni sanpai (official visits to the Shrine) as “customs” and outside of the application of the separation principle. Hishiki argues that if the ambiguous notion of religion embedded in this proposed revision is accepted, it will give the state the power to control the people, and the rights normally accorded to individuals—the right not to participate—will disappear (2007, pp. 64-65).

The Japanese Bishops in the Catholic Church are similarly concerned that this redefinition would provide a legal basis to again require children and teachers at schools, as well as employees at government institutions (kōmuin), to participate in jinja sanpai as a part of their official duties. Tani Daiji, the former Bishop of Saitama, argues that the LDP proposal is reintroducing the notion of “nonreligious Shintō,” which will lead to a situation in which coercion replaces freedom of conscience. He recalls that during the war shrine visits were redefined as a “nonreligious” civic duty, a duty required of Japanese as well as the colonized peoples in Korea, Manchuria, and Taiwan. Tani fears that shrine visits (sanpai) could again be treated like other official ceremonies at school events, which require standing before the Hinomaru flag and singing the national anthem, but students could be forced to participate regardless of conscience or personal religious commitment. Tani maintains that by redefining something as a “social ritual” or “custom” will allow religious activity and education to go on in public institutions. He also suggests that this revised article would be used to legitimize and legalize official visits (kōshiki sanpai) to Yasukuni Shrine—recategorized as a “social ritual” (shakaiteki girei) or “national ritual” (kokuminteki girei)—which is a strategy designed to eliminate lawsuits and legal conflict over visits to the shrine by the prime minister and other government officials (2007, pp. 20-25).

CONCLUSION

Given the pluralistic nature of postwar Japanese society, it is not surprising the range of neonationalistic initiatives promoted by Shinseiren, Nippon Kaigi, and LDP leaders have been widely contested by many intellectuals, the teachers’ union, and a variety of religious leaders and groups. In the wake of the 1995 Aum incident, we observed a serious concern for protection from deviant new religions. Over the course of two decades, we have seen this evolve into a concern for protection from coercion in public institutions and forced participation in a revitalized civil religion. There is clearly a clash between those who recognize individual rights and freedoms as fundamental to civil society and those who regard the rights of the individual to be secondary and subservient to the needs of the nation or group. In light of the impact of post-disaster legislation on the school system nationwide, one can appreciate the concerns of religious minorities and others who fear an expansion of coercion as political leaders and groups—guided by their essentialist understanding of Shintō and Japanese identity—seek to reshape public institutions.

This essay is adapted from“Neonationalism, Politics, and Religion in Post-disaster Japan,” in Mark R. Mullins and Nakano Koichi, eds. Disasters and Social Crisis in Contemporary Japan: Political, Religious, and Sociocultural Responses, Basingstoke/NY: Palgrave Macmillan Press, 2016, pp. 107-131.

REFERENCES

Abe Shinzō. 2006. Utsukushii kuni e. Tokyo: Bungei Shunju.

Breen, John and Mark Teeuwen. 2010. A New History of Shinto Shintō. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell.

Hardacre, Helen. 2003. “RevisionofAdministrativeLawasShortcuttoConstitutionalRevision.” InJapanesePoliticsToday:FromKaraoketoKabukiDemocracy.Eds. Takashi InoguchiandPurnendraJain, 201-217. NewYork:PalgraveMacmillan.

Hishiki Masaharu. 2007. Shiminteki jiyū no kiki to shūkyō—kenpō, Yasukuni Jinja, seikyō bunri. Tokyo: Hakutakusha.

Mullins, Mark R. 2012. “The Neo-nationalist Response to the Aum Crisis: A Return of Civil Religion and Coercion in the Public Sphere?” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, vol. 39, no. 1, pp. 99-125.

_____. 2015. “Japanese Responses to ‘Imperialist Secularization’: The Postwar Movement to Restore Shintō in the ‘Public Sphere.’” In Multiple Secularities Beyond the West: Religion and Modernity in the Global Age. Eds. Marian Burchardt, et. al., pp. 141-167. DeGruyter.

Okada Akira. 2007. Shisō・Ryōshin・Shinkyō no jiyū ni tsuite kangaetekita koto—Toritsu Kōko ni okeru Kokki・Kokka kyōsei no naka de. Pamphlet No. 5, 2007.

_____. 2013. “Hinomaru・Kimigayo ‘kyōsei’ no mondai no kako・genzai・mirai.” In Kimigayo Kyōsei Hantai Kirisutosha no Tsudoi, ed. Shinkō no ryōshin no tame no tatakai. Tokyo: Inochi no Kotobasha, 2013, pp. 9-42.

Repeta, Lawrence. 2007. “Politicians, Teachers and the Japanese Constitution: Flag, Freedom and the State.” The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus, 14 February, pp. 1-7. [http://www.japanfocus.org/-Lawrence-Repeta/2355.

Shintō Seiji Renmei, ed. 1984. Shinseiren jūgonenshi. Tokyo: Shintō Seiji Renmei Chūō Honbu.

Takahashi Seiju. 1998. “Kyōsei no saki ni mieru mono.” In the Ryōshinteki ‘Hinomaru-Kimigayo’ Kyohi. Eds. ‘Hinomaru-Kimigayo’ Futō Shobun Tekkai o Motomeru Hishobunsha no Kai, pp. 176-179. Tokyo: Akashi.

Tani Daiji 2007. “Jimintō shinkenpō sōan o kenshō suru.” In Shinkyō no jiyū to seikyō bunri, Eds. Katorikku Chūō Kyōgikai (Catholic Bishops Conference of Japan), pp. 17-44. Katorikku Chūō Kyōgikai.

Ueda Kenji. 1979. “Contemporary Social Change and Shintō Traditions.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 6/1-2: 303-327.
Notes
1

For the early history of this organization, see Shintō Seiji Renmei, ed. (1984). Information on current activities may be gleaned from its monthly magazine, Kokoro, and website. For more detailed analysis of its membership and political agenda, see John Breen and Mark Teeuwen (2010, especially chapter 6), and Mullins (2012; 2015).
2

Here I am paraphrasing the information widely available in Nippon Kaigi publications and on the official homepage. The membership figures are drawn from here.

3For figures on Shinseiren membership and the Abe Cabinet, see “The Abe Cabinet: An Ideological Breakdown,” 28 January 2013, prepared by the Children and Textbooks Japan Network 21 [Kodomo to Kyōkasho Zenkoku Netto 21], an NGO organized in 1998 to critically engage the revisionist textbook movement (translated by Matthew Penny). This is available on both the NGO homepage and the Japan Focus site); for recent figures on Shinseiren and an overview of how representative religious groups line-up in relation to Abe’s political agenda, see “Abe Teikoku Shūkyō,” Shūkan Asahi 11 April 2014, 21. The Shinseiren membership in Abe’s current Cabinet for 2015 is based on data provided by the Shinseiren site and the official government site. 4For the original Japanese record of Prime Minister Obuchi’s explanation on 29 June 1999 see here. 5There are a number of accounts and collections of documents regarding the lawsuit; see, for example, Ryōshinteki ‘Hinomaru-Kimigayo’ Kyohi, eds. (2004), the accounts and explanations by Okada (2007; 2013), one of the few Christian school teachers involved in this legal action, and the homepage of the support group for the teachers involved in the legal action. 6This comparison with the fumie ritual is also reported by Isomura Kentarō (Asahi Shimbun, 8 August 2009) with reference to the words of Kishida Shizue, a music teacher supported by the Anglican Church in her legal struggle against the Tokyo School Board. 7The initial debate between Ishii and Abe can be viewed on Youtube. The Communist Party also produced some critical written statements about this DVD; see the article “Shinryaku seitōka e ‘sennō’: Monbushō saiyō no ‘Yasukuni DVD,’” 18 May 2007 Shinbun Akahata (accessed 8-30-2011). 8In fact, six of the fourteen local representatives who were initially responsible for submitting this proposed ordinance belong to the Nippon Kaigi (“Japan Conference”), the neonationalist group organized in 1996, which also actively supports the renationalization of Yasukuni Shrine and revision of the Constitution. 9Tweet posted on 19 May 2011. 10The original Japanese is “Yahari, kyōsei ni naru to iu koto de nai koto ga nozomashii;” reported in the Asahi Shinbun, 28 October 2004. A spokesperson of the Imperial Household Agency commented later that he thought the Emperor was trying to say that “it would be best if the flag was raised and the anthem sung spontaneously or voluntarily”. 11For example, see the Emperor’s 2015 New Year address. 12The latest version of the LDP proposal for Constitutional revision is available online at the LDP home page.