2022.07.18 NEWS ARTICLES

The Assassination of Shinzo Abe

It has now been ten days since the assassination of former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. My last encounter with Shinzo was at a symposium about four weeks before the tragedy. We had a chat sitting at the table on back stage, waiting for the opening. He was very energetic, talking about Taiwan Straits issues and Japan’s defense spending, perhaps he might be having a cold, but very much alive.
As someone who has spent years analyzing Japanese politics, I must admit that these past ten days have reminded me of the emotional toll such an event takes, even when we may not consciously recognize it. Looking back, I realize that “time” is often the best remedy for a wounded spirit. In time, we’ll see how Japanese society processes this shocking event, and I aim to capture its response here.

Global and Domestic Reactions to Abe’s Assassination

Following Abe’s assassination, words of condolence poured in from world leaders, including personal messages from allies and even leaders with whom Japan has had challenging relationships, such as China’s Xi Jinping and Russia’s Vladimir Putin, who acknowledged Abe’s contributions. The United States and India lowered flags on public buildings in an unprecedented gesture. Surrounding his private funeral, both the U.S. Secretary of State and the Secretary of the Treasury traveled to Japan, with Secretary Blinken delivering a message from the U.S. president, describing Abe as “a friend beyond alliance.”

While such responses are expected for a democratic leader, Abe remains a divisive figure in Japan. Though it’s impossible to generalize the national sentiment, there seems to be a sense of shock across the country at the assassination of such a prominent contemporary politician. In an unusual gesture, even government buildings in the Kasumigaseki district flew the Japanese flag at half-mast without significant debate.

Political Polarization Amid Mourning

The polarization between the political left and right surfaced almost immediately, and this divide is a key focus of this article. As is often the case in democratic politics, the time allotted for mourning is short before political disputes take over. This can seem like a cruel reality.

One of the initial aspects that struck me was the media’s reluctance to label the act as “assassination.” Although the term “assassination” is universally applied to acts like this, media reports in Japan consistently used the phrase “death by shooting.” This word choice seemed to reflect a broader cultural sensitivity toward violence and a fear that acknowledging the assassination could inadvertently attribute political meaning to the act.

Globally, crimes committed for social or political impact are commonly referred to as assassination or terrorism, and rightly so. Yet many Japanese, unsure how to process the event, spent the ten days following the assassination grappling for understanding. Ironically, this could speak to the relative stability of Japanese politics. However, continuous police leaks seemed aimed at quickly casting the crime as the personal vendetta of a lone attacker. Initially, the media refrained from mentioning the Unification Church by name, making it difficult for others to discuss the issue openly. Of course, ensuring accuracy is vital, but if journalists withheld the name out of deference, it reflects a characteristic risk-avoidance in Japan, which, while preserving societal unity, can stifle democratic discourse.

The Attacker’s Background and Political Instrumentalization

Ten days post-assassination, we have learned more about the attacker’s circumstances. His mother reportedly bankrupted the family through significant donations to the Unification Church, leading to personal and economic hardship for the attacker, despite his education. His resentment toward the Unification Church solidified over time, and reports suggest that he harbored a certain approval of Abe’s policies, though he ultimately acted to bring public condemnation upon the Church by targeting Abe. The attacker’s meticulous planning, including homemade firearms, test firing, and scouting locations, has prompted prosecutors to seek a psychological evaluation. Yet these details also reveal a grimly methodical nature.

I’m particularly concerned with how public discourse within Japan seems to align with the attacker’s motives. The attacker’s claim of a link between Abe and the Unification Church has led some pundits and even party leaders to imply a degree of culpability on Abe’s part. Some do preface such claims by condemning the violence, yet they still shift the focus from Abe’s public assassination during an election to alleged “connections” with the Church. Such reasoning dangerously risks legitimizing any number of grievances as motives for violence, which should alarm those committed to public safety.

This framing, however, is not unique to the political left. Initially, right-wing critics were quick to condemn the left’s severe criticisms of Abe, some of which bordered on violent rhetoric. Ultimately, Abe’s death has become another stage for political forces on both sides to advance their own narratives—a repeated story of political divisions in Japan.

Liberal Values and the Weaponization of Labels

Beyond the level of political rhetoric, a worrisome trend is the widespread acceptance of labeling any association with the Unification Church as socially or politically toxic. Such labeling resembles the “blacklists” of the mid-20th century Red Scare, yet there is a surprising lack of awareness of this historical parallel.

The Unification Church, a new religious movement originating from the Korean peninsula, is known for practices such as mass weddings and excessive donations, which have affected many followers and their families. This organization is widely recognized as problematic, yet Japan’s Constitution protects freedom of religion, preventing any direct prosecution of religious teachings. Instead, legal measures have focused on individual cases of fraud.

Complicating matters, the Unification Church’s anti-communist stance historically aligned it with some in the LDP. Critics and activists have long claimed that the Church provided financial support and volunteers to the LDP, lending it some degree of legitimacy. While this relationship raises moral questions, it must be handled with caution to avoid encroaching on religious freedom, a fundamental principle of postwar liberalism in Japan.

The “Ghosts” of the Cold War and Japan’s Unique Political Landscape

The Unification Church’s relationship with Japan’s conservative base also reflects deeper historical ties. The postwar Japanese right has historically allied with anti-communist movements abroad, reflecting Japan’s colonial legacy on the Korean peninsula and the American-backed anti-communist sentiment of the Cold War. Abe’s grandfather, Nobusuke Kishi, was at the center of this legacy, maintaining close ties with anti-communist leaders in Taiwan and South Korea—connections the United States encouraged. Given the tragedies wrought by communism in the USSR, China, and North Korea, these alliances were, at the time, pragmatic.

Today’s leaders, however, bear the responsibility of resolving ties with controversial groups like the Unification Church. The actions of politicians who avoid this task can appear as self-serving and opportunistic, bending principles for political gain. Still, the exaggerated conspiracy theories tying Abe to the Church through any minor interaction are unfounded. Such theories often lean more on intuition than on facts, much like the attacker himself linking Abe to the Church based on a single photo in a newspaper.

As Japan faces new geopolitical challenges in the post-Cold War era, the influence of “Cold War ghosts” in Japan’s political discourse is notable. Critical security discussions, like defense spending and training, frequently devolve into theological debates over constitutional interpretation, underscoring the lingering effects of Cold War ideologies in Japan’s politics.

The State Funeral and Unity of the Silent Majority

Prime Minister Kishida recently announced a state funeral for Abe, stirring public debate. Even if it’s a long shot, could this be an opportunity to honor a statesman who served Japan and was killed during an election campaign? Those who respect national institutions may find meaning in honoring Abe’s service as Japan’s longest-serving prime minister. Unlike in the U.S., where the phrase “respect the office, not the man” often echoes, Japan lacks a similar cultural outlook.

Honoring a politician’s contributions does not absolve their flaws, nor do flaws disqualify someone from such recognition. Abe’s achievements were as limited as any political reality. As imperfect as it may seem, I hope Abe’s state funeral might transcend the extremes on both sides, offering a moment of unity and peace to the silent majority.