This is a draft.

For the published text and bibliography, please refer to my book The
Category of ‘Religion’ in Contemporary Japan (Palgrave Macmillan)
https://www.palgrave.com/gb/book/9783319735696
Chapter 2

Critical reflections on the category ‘religion’ in Japan

The term shūkyō was developed as a generic category in Japan in the late nineteenth centuryto refer to
the English word ‘religion.’It also referred to the German Religionsübung (Hermann 2016, p. 114).In
Chapter 1, I have highlighted the absence of the emic equivalent to the concept of ‘religion’ in pre-
modern Japan. This understanding echoes Helen Hardacre (1991, p. 18) when she claims:

“In pre-Meiji Japan there existed no concept of religion as a general phenomenon, of which
there would be variants like Christianity, Buddhism, and Shinto. People spoke of having faith
(shinkō) in particular kami and Buddhas, but on word existed to designate a separate sphere of
life that could be ‘religious,’ as opposed to the rest of one’s existence.”

The term shūkyō denotes the generic notion of religion as the binary opposite of the secular. This
specific notion of the secular as the binary opposite of religion is referred to as ‘non-religious secular’
in this chapter. This chapter argues that the employment of the concept shūkyō, based upon the
ideologically-demarcated distinction from the non-religious secular, was fundamental for the
construction of the Japanese nation-state in the late nineteenth century, and its reconstruction after the
Second World War. In other words, the discourse on, and the category of,religion in Japan naturalises
authority of the Japanese state and functions to maintain its hegemony.This chapter reviews in the
case of Japan, how the category of shūkyōemerged, how it was indigenised and how it was employed
by the state to classify and regulate its domain. Whereas the construction of the category of shūkyōin
pre-war Japan has been extensively researched by many, including the seminal work by Isomae
(2003) and its English translation (Isomae 2014), as well as two recent English-language monographs
(Josephson 2012; Maxey 2014), the same kind of critical engagement has not been extended to
Japan’s post-war era. In this light, the rest of this chapter is devoted to uncovering the ways in which
the categorisation has been reformulated in Japan after the Second World War, how its conceptual
boundaries have been contested, and how the discourse on shūkyōhas generated a specific meaning of
‘religion,’ which has been entangled with the power structure of Japanese society. This latter task will
be the main focus of this chapter.

The Invention of ‘Shūkyō’

In his book The Invention of Religion in Japan, Jason Josephson (2012) demonstrates, using diaries
and diplomatic materials from Japan, the US, France and the Netherlands, how the concept of religion
was introduced to Japan during the power struggle of international diplomacy in the mid-nineteenth
century. Japanese translators first encountered the English word ‘religion’ in the 1850s.1 ‘Religion’ as
a newly imported concept was translated into Japanese in a number of different ways but it was during
the Meiji period (1868-1912), more specifically during the decades of 1870s and 1880s, that the word
shūkyō established its place in the Japanese language as the definitive translation for ‘religion’
(Isomae 2003; 2005; 2007; Shimazono 2004a).

As a background to the construction of the category shūkyō, it is important to recognise the particular
circumstances of Japan in respect of international relations with the West. Since US Navy

1
For this initial encounter with ‘religion’ by the Japanese, refer to my article ‘The American Imperialism and the
Japanese Encounter with ‘Religion’: 1853-1858’ (Horii 2016).

1
Commodore, Matthew C. Perry’s arrival in Japan in 1853 demanding the opening of the country, one
of the most important matters for the Americans in negotiations with Japan, was ‘freedom of religious
belief’ (see Horii 2016). This was the demand for a constitutional guarantee for the right to practice
Christianity in Japan. At the same time, according to Isomae (2007, p. 93): “With the opening of the
country to the West, mid-nineteenth-century Japan’s status as a sovereign nation-state remained
elusive owing to unfair treaties established with Western countries.” Thus, it was an urgent task for
Japan to adapt itself to a Western-style nation-statemodel, in order to be acknowledged as an
independent nation-state and to avoid following the path of a colonial state. Isomae (2007, p. 93)
notes: “Essential conditions to be achieved included the establishment of a constitution and
recognition of Christianity.” On the Japanese side, having perceived Christianity as ‘heresy’ and a
threat to social order for a long time, the process of translating ‘religion’ into Japanese, therefore,
consisted of “tactical efforts on the part of Japanese diplomats to quarantine Christianity and forestall
missionary activity” (Josephson 2012, p. 4).

The invention of the category shūkyō played an integral role in creating the ostensibly non-religious
secular domain, in which the legitimacy of the modern Japanese nation-state was authorised and
maintained. This realm of state orthodoxy, reified as the binary opposition of ‘religion,’ is termed “the
Shinto secular” by Josephson (2012). This is referred to as “the hybrid Shinto-scientific ideology,
formulated in terms of a nation-state, articulated in relation to the person of the emperor, distinguished
from religion, and intended to produce a unified Japanese subjectivity” (Josephson 2012, p. 19).
Shinto (literally, ‘the Way of the Kami’ or ‘the Way of the Gods’) was represented by the Meiji
government as “public worship,” which was associated with the notion of “social unity,” and “thus
became a point of national pride and uniqueness” (Thal 2002, p. 107). The government needed to
“produce the image of the transcendent collective unity of the nation-state” (Ketelaar 1990, p. 121).

Pre-Meiji Japan “lacked anything resembling a modern state” (Ravina 1995, p. 1000). It was
characterised by “an intricate patchwork of district governments, with broad areas of ambiguous and
overlapping authority” (Ravina 1995, p. 1000). In order to succeed, therefore, the newly formed Meiji
government “needed to redirect the Japanese people’s loyalties from their old domains to the new
state” (Doak 1997, p. 286). It was this “desire for unity” (Thal 2002, p. 107) that mobilised the Meiji
government to utilise Shinto symbolism to create “its first national ceremonial calendar, flag, national
anthem, and rites of state accessible to all subjects” (Hardacre 1989, p. 4) in order to resemble
European nations. Drawing on Hobsbawm and Ranger’s (1983) famous phrase, Hardacre (1989, p. 4)
claims that Shinto was an “invented tradition” by the Meiji government “to unite disparate elements
into a modern nation.”

It was during the early Meiji period when the “historical consciousness” of an indigenous entity called
Shinto clearly took shape, as if it had existed in Japan since ancient times (Kuroda 1981, p. 19). In
pre-modern times, what constituted the customs and beliefs of the Japanese people “was the kenmitsu
Buddhist system including its components, such as Shinto and the Yin-yang tradition, and its various
branches, both reformist and heretical” (Kuroda 1981, p. 20). This was a “comprehensive, unified and
self-defined system” in Japan in pre-modern times (Kuroda 1981, p. 20). It was from the kenmitsu
system that Shinto was extracted to be an independent entity and it was represented as ‘indigenous.’
This process was achieved “both in name and in fact with the rise of modern nationalism” (Kuroda
1981, p. 19) by the so-called nativist scholars in the second half of the nineteenth century, during the
decline of the Tokugawa shogunate and the establishment of a centralising, imperial government in its
place. According to Thal (2002, p. 101): “worship of the kami [gods] emerged from the activities of
scattered scholars and priests to coalesce into a widely recognized entity called Shinto central to the
political and intellectual life of the emerging nation-state.” The construction of Shinto was “never
intended to represent or codify the amorphous faith of the people seen in innumerable, localized, and
highly diverse cults of kami” (Hardacre 1986, p. 53). Instead it “gradually transformed local folk
Shinto shrines into political instruments for inculcating emperor-centred patriotism and values of
social harmony” (Garon 1997, p. 65), and simultaneously for “inculcat[ing] in the people a
willingness to follow the state’s commands regarding taxation, conscription, and a host of other
matters” (Hardacre 1986, p. 53).

2
In other words, the category of shūkyō was utilised by the state in order to maintain its hegemony over
challenging institutions and value orientations. Specifically, this category consisted of Buddhism,
Christianity and sectarian Shinto (which had divorced from the state-authored Shinto institution).
These three ‘religions’ are also modern constructs. In particular, ‘Buddhism’ was given an
independent ontology in the process of constructing ‘Shinto’ (Ketelaar 1990; Snodgrass 2003),
extracted from the so-called “kenmitsu system” (Kuroda 1981). The important point is that, by
defining the realm of shūkyō as the binary opposite of the ostensibly non-religious secular national
ethos, the state attempted to secure its dominance by excluding ‘religions’ from its operation.
Buddhist temples were part of pre-Meiji ruling structure, whereas Christianity was perceived as
‘heresy’ and a threat to social order. Doctrinal disagreements within Shinto were represented as
‘religion’ of sectarian Shinto. Maxey (2014, p. 3) summarises: “Efforts to shield the state from
competition with Christianity, from Buddhist disaffection, from internecine conflict among Shinto
priests … led to the political construction of religion as a category to be rendered distinct from the
state.”

The state’s control over shūkyō became further reinforced paradoxically by the constitutional notion
of ‘freedom of religion.’ This came to be guaranteed in Japan by the Constitution of the Empire of
Japan of 1889 (the so-called Meiji Constitution). Article 28 states: “Japanese subjects shall, within
limits not prejudicial to peace and order, and not antagonistic to their duties as subjects, enjoy
freedom of religious belief” (National Diet Library 2003-2004c). ‘Freedom of religious belief’ is a
translation of the Japanese phrase ‘shinkyō no jiyū.’ This term was popularised by Yukichi Fukuzawa
(1835-1901), a prominent intellectual and writer in Meiji Japan. He used the term in 1866 in his work
introducing Western civilization. ‘Shinkyō’ literally means ‘belief teaching.’ By the 1870s, this term
was used to mean something like ‘religious conviction’ (Josephson 2012, p. 232). The employment of
shinkyō, as the constitutional category for shūkyō, indicates that “what was guaranteed was a type of
belief, located in a private sphere, not a freedom of association, political action or indeed anything
that could be externalized in public” (Josephson 2012, p. 232).

This constitution therefore confines whatever defined as shūkyō to the private sphere, and legitimises
the state’s authority over the public. Importantly, the category of shinkyō in the context of ‘shinkyō no
jiyū’ was often interpreted as “a pejorative label for an inadequate, or subversive, form of knowledge
and education” (Ketelaar 1990, p. 132). This kind of negative connotation of the term shūkyō,
circulated by the government’s discourses on ‘religion,’ authorised the state to establish constitutional
‘limits’ on ‘freedom of religious belief.’ According to Isomae (2007, p. 93): “Following the principle
of Western-style enlightenment, ‘religion’ (shūkyō) was entrusted to the sphere of the individual’s
interior freedom, while the ‘secular’ sphere of morality (dōtoku) was determined to be national, and
thus a public, issue.” The state regarded whatever defined as shūkyō with indifference as long as it
remained within the private realm, but all possible means of its external expression were subject to
regulation. This notion of the non-religious public, separated from the religious private, was therefore
manifested as the ‘secular’ domain of which the state takes control. Josephson (2012, p. 21) explains:

By defining religion as a particular type of interiority, this constitutional guarantee did not
actually produce more freedom. Paradoxically, guaranteeing freedom of religion enabled the
state both to appease international power and to maximize a rigorous control over all external
manifestation of ‘religion.’

The social category of shūkyō was constructed outside the realm of the Shinto national ethos. This
was manifested in the institutional arrangement of the state. For example, both Shinto and Buddhism
had been administered by the Ministry of Education (Kyōbushō) until 1877. Thereafter, the
responsibility was taken over by the Bureau of Shrines and Temples (Shajikyoku) of the Home
Ministry (Naimushō). In 1886 the Bureau was divided into a shrine section and a temple section, thus
clarifying an administrative distinction between shrines and Shintō-related sects on the one hand and
Buddhist temples on the other. In 1900, two new bureaus were created in place of the Bureau of
Shrines and Temples: the Shrine Bureau (Jinjakyoku) and the Religions Bureau (Shūkyōkyoku). While
the former was designated for the role relating the Shinto national ethos, the latter administered the

3
officially recognised shūkyō: namely, Buddhism, sectarian Shinto, and Christianity. Such an
institutional division is symbolic of the construction of shūkyō as a category separate from Shinto.

At the same time, the institutional manifestations of shūkyō, namely, three religions of Buddhism,
Christianity and sectarian Shinto, were utilised by the state as a means of what Garon (1997) calls
“moral suasion.” The government officials “routinely called on the three religions to aid the
government in propagating ‘moral suasion’ to their adherents and the general populace” (Garon 1997,
p. 67). The symbolism of this is that when shūkyō (‘religion’) became incorporated into a legal person,
it was classified under the legal category of kōeki, which can be translated as “public good,” “public
benefit,” or “public interest.” Hardacre (2003, p. 136) notes: “Religious organizations were
recognized as working for the ‘public good’ (kōeki).” The organisational manifestation of shūkyō was
only allowed to exist as long as it served the ostensibly non-religious secular state. Importantly,
unofficial faith groups outside the category of shūkyō were labelled “at best ‘pseudo religions’ (ruiji
shūkyō), and at worst, ‘evil cults’ (jakyō)” (Garon 1997, p. 60). These were said to be organisations
which “engage in activities resembling those of religions, yet do not belong to the denominations and
sects of Shinto, Buddhism, and Christianity” (Directive of 3 March 1919, quoted Garon 1997, p. 73).
Those faith groups, which did not belong to the official classification of ‘religion,’ were subject to
harsh persecution. In this way, the discourse on‘religion’ was deeply connected to the ruling power of
the state. The government’s classificatory practice of shūkyōresulted in the criminalisation of specific
faith groups, which were excluded from the category.

Post-war Re-classification

After the Second World War, the category of shūkyō was reformulated into a more inclusive social
category. This new classification was largely carried out during the Allied Occupation between 1945
and 1952 and was closely associated with the implementation of American-style liberal democratic
ideology. In short, American liberal democratic values and sensitivity played an important role in the
formation of the post-war Japanese religion-secular dichotomy. The post-war (re-)classification of
shūkyō in Japanese society formulates a triumphant discourse of liberalism, represented as the
liberation by democratic America of the Japanese people from its Emperor system, or a state-
sponsored shūkyō called ‘State Shinto.’ This also represents reorganisation of the state’s power and
social order. When the category of shūkyō was given a new meaning, its entanglement with the state
was transformed into a new constellation.

The US government started planning for the post-surrender Japan from well before the actual date of
the surrender. Importantly, the United States Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan (National Diet
Library 2003-2004a) issued in April 1945 states: “Freedom of religious worship shall be proclaimed
promptly on occupation.” This indicates the assumption of US policy-makers that whatever they
presumed as ‘religion(s)’ had been suppressed in Japan and implied the claim that those suppressed
‘religion(s)’ had to be liberated. The principle of ‘freedom of religious worship’ was again expressed
by the Potsdam Declaration issued on 26 July 1945 (National Diet Library 2003-2004b). The notion
of ‘religious freedom’ was presented as being of the utmost importance for creating a democratic
Japan. It states that the ‘democratic tendencies’ of post-war Japan were to be built by establishing
liberal principles including ‘freedom of religion.’

After Japan surrendered to the Allies on 15 August 1945, these principles were implemented and the
Japanese social system was reorganised accordingly. Importantly, while the pre-war category of
shūkyō was limited to the ‘three religions’ (i.e. Buddhism, Christianity, sectarian Shinto), the post-war
category of shūkyō includes various other faith groups, which would have constituted the pre-war
heterodoxy. The pre-war ‘pseudo religions’ and ‘evil cults’ were included in shūkyō under the
principle of ‘freedom of religious worship.’ Other newer groups which would have been excluded
from the pre-war category of shūkyō,were also included into the category.

4
At the same time, the pre-war ‘secular’ was now also included in the post-war category of shūkyō,
after being reformulated as ‘Shrine Shinto.’ After Japan’s surrender, the first task of the Allied
authority was the demolition of the pre-war Shinto secular. The so-called Shinto Directive
(Translations and Official Documents 1960), issued by the Supreme Commander for the Allied Power
(SCAP) on 15 December 1945, “effectively reduced Shinto to the status of a voluntary organization”
(Mullins 2012, p. 66). This was achieved by reorganising Shinto as a ‘religion.’ In more concrete
terms, combined with the principle of religion-state separation, the Directive’s reclassification of
Shinto as a ‘religion’ ended government financial support for and administration of Shinto shrines as
well as instructing the Japanese government to remove “Shinto elements” such as Shinto altars and
the custom of compulsory shrine visits from all public institutions including schools and public
offices (Mullins 2012, p. 67).

It is not too much of a generalisation to claim that what became reclassified as religion under the
Occupations was the value orientations which were different from liberal democracy. The Allied
Occupation instituted Western liberal democracy as the governing ideology of the post-war Japanese
state. All other value orientations classified as ‘religion,’ and their ‘freedom’ were guaranteed as long
as they respect the liberal democratic order of society.

The Category ‘Shūkyō’ in the Constitution and the Japanese Socio-Economic Census

The foundation of a post-war category of religion or shūkyō was codified by the new constitution
which was written under the Allied Occupation. SCAP drafted the current constitution which is still in
use today. The Constitution of Japan, which allegedly has “essentially American origins” as well as
“clandestine American influence” (Ward 1956, p. 1008) was promulgated in 1946 and enacted in
1947. The constitutional notion of shūkyō is codified in Articles 20 and 89. As regards the sign of
American influence in these, it is important to point out that Article 89, as well as Article 20’s
separation clause, did not appear in the drafting process until SCAP submitted its February 1946 draft
(Inoue 1991). More specifically, Van Winkle argues (2012, p. 389): “SCAP inserted Articles 20 and
89 solely to eliminate Shintō as a source of ultra-nationalism that could hinder pacification; SCAP had
no concern in drafting those provisions, whatsoever, for the ideals of religious freedom.” Article 20 of
the Constitution states:

Freedom of religion is guaranteed to all. 1) No religious organization shall receive any

privileges from the State, nor exercise any political authority. 2) No person shall be
compelled to take part in any religious acts, celebration, rite or practice. 3) The State and its
organs shall refrain from religious education or any other religious activity (emphasis added,
Prime Minister of Japan and His Cabinet, no date).

Article 89 of the Constitution states:

No public money or other property shall be expended or appropriated for the use, benefit or
maintenance of any religious institution or association, or for any charitable, educational or
benevolent enterprises not under the control of public authority (emphasis added, Prime
Minister of Japan and His Cabinet, no date).

The constitution distinguishes ‘religious organisations’ (shūkyō dantai), ‘religious acts’ (shūkyō jō no
kōi), ‘religious education’ (shūkyō kyōiku), and ‘religious activities’ (shūkyō katsudō) from ostensibly
non-religious secular organisations, acts, education, and activities. This constructs the categories of
the ‘non-religious’ (hi-shūkyō) or the ‘secular’ (sezoku), while reifying ‘religion’ or shūkyō as
something essentially distinguishable from these.

Shūkyō is an important constitutional category for the post-war Japanese state. As a principle, shūkyō
(whatever this means) has to be separated, for example, from ‘politics’ (seiji) and ‘education’ (kyōiku).
It is also a category of economic activities. A ‘religious organisation’ (shūkyō dantai) is
conceptualised as a unit of economic activity, which consists of ‘offices’ and ‘employees.’A ‘religious
organisation’ can be incorporated as a ‘religious corporation’ (shūkyō hōjin)in order to become a legal

5
person. Similarly, shūkyō is also an industrial category which is tautologically defined by its ‘religious’
nature of service provided. In addition, shūkyō is an occupational category in which qualified
specialists are called ‘religious professionals’ (shūkyōka).

The Agency of Cultural Affairs (ACA) conceptualises shūkyō in terms of ‘group’ (dantai), ‘teachers’
(kyōshi) and ‘believers’ (shinja) (e.g. ACA 1972). This implies the ACA’s assumption that shūkyō
consists of a group of people who organise themselves around a specific doctrine. It is also presumed
by the ACA that ostensibly ‘religious’ doctrines can be distinguished from what seems to be non-
religious ones.

The notion of ‘religious organisation’ (shūkyō dantai) are defined by the Religious Corporation Law
as groups whose organisational aim is to disseminate ‘a doctrine of a religion’ (shūkyō no kyōgi),
carry out ‘ceremonial events’ (gishiki gyōji), and educate ‘believers’ (shinja). A ‘religious
organisation’ is expected to be equipped with the facilities for worship. ‘Religious organisations’ are
divided into subcategories in terms of different types, such as ‘shrines’ (jinja), ‘temples’ (jiin),
‘churches’ (kyokai), ‘missionary sites’ (fukyōjo), and ‘others’ (sonota). They are also classified by
different traditions: i.e. ‘Shinto,’ ‘Buddhist,’ ‘Christian,’ and ‘other religions.’

An overwhelming majority of ‘religious organisations’ are incorporated as ‘religious corporations’

(shūkyō hōjin). There are two types of ‘religious corporations’: ‘local religious corporations’ (tan’i-
shūkyō hōjin) and ‘comprehensive religious corporations’ (hōkatsushūkyō hōjin). The former includes
individual ‘shrines,’ ‘temples,’ ‘churches,’ ‘monasteries,’ and the like. The latter indicates the bodies
which encompass the former. Examples for the latter category include ‘denominations,’ ‘sects,’
‘associations,’ ‘churches,’ ‘orders,’ ‘dioceses’ or ‘districts,’ and the like. Most ‘local religious
corporations’ belong to the comprehensive religious corporations and are called ‘comprehended
religious corporations’ (hihōkatsushūkyō hōjin). The remaining few independent local religious
corporations are called ‘autonomous religious corporation’ (tanritsushūkyō hōjin). In 2013, only 0.2%
of all religious corporations in Japan are comprehensive religious corporations, while all the rest are
‘local religious corporations,’which are made up of 96% ‘comprehended religious corporations’ and
3.8%‘autonomous religious corporations’ (BBS 2015, p. 2).

The idea of ‘teachers’ (kyōshi) indicates the assumption that shūkyō is a kind of doctrine to be taught
by qualified individuals. In 2013, there appear to be about 700,000 such ‘teachers’ in Japan, which
consists of 378,000 from ‘Buddhist’ organisations, 208,000 from organisations of ‘other religions,’
81,000 from ‘Shinto’ organisations, and 35,000 from ‘Christian’ organisations (BBS 2015, p. 10).
‘Teachers’ are defined as those with a teaching qualification authorised by each ‘religious
organisation.’ There is no universal criterion for qualified ‘teacher’ which could be common across all
‘religious organisations.’Nevertheless, major ‘comprehensive religious corporations’ tend to have
standardised system of qualifications, which are followed by their comprehended bodies. For example,
as discussed in the following chapters, each major denomination of temple Buddhism has instituted its
formal process to qualify denominational doctrinal instructors. And it is the norm that all local
temples comprehended by a specific denomination are headed by qualified denominational teachers.

The term ‘believers’ (shinja, lit: ‘persons who believe’) is associated with the notion of belief. Thus,
shūkyō is imagined as something which exists in the inner realm of individuals. The total number of
‘believers’ in 2013 is about 190 million, while the total population of Japan is about 120 million (BBS
2015, p. 3). The number of ‘believers’ is well above the national population because a significant
proportion of people have been counted by more than one religious organisation at the same time. The
190 million believers consist of 91.3 million from ‘Shinto’ organisations, 86.9 million from
‘Buddhists’ organisations, 9.1 million from ‘other religions,’ and 2.9 million from ‘Christian’
organisations (BBS 2015, p. 11). In this light, the statistical category of ‘believers’ does not
necessarily indicate an individual’s commitment to a specific belief. This is echoed by Heine (2012, p.
12) when he comments: “surveys and other indicators suggests a lack of dedication in that most
Japanese people seem lukewarm at best when asked about their convictions.”

6
The category of ‘believers’ includes‘shrine parishioners’ (ujiko), ‘followers of a teaching’ (kyōto),
‘members’ (kaiin), ‘comrades’ (dōshi), ‘reverent persons’ (sūkeisha), ‘the religious’ (shūdōsha),
‘recluse’ (dōjin 道人), ‘coterie’ (dōjin 同人), and the like (BBS 2015, p. 11). What constitutes
‘believers’ is defined by each ‘religious organisation.’ And the statistics refer to numbers of ‘believers’
reported by each ‘religious organisation.’In this light, the qualification to be a ‘believer’ is not
necessarily measured by the belief possessed by individuals. It could be the number of individuals
registered as a ‘member’ of a religious organisation. The number of ‘believers’ also includes self-
claimed numbers of danka or ujiko, which are families historically affiliated to Buddhist temples or
Shinto shrines, respectively. Many danka and ujiko are often not even aware of their own affiliations
to a specific temple or shrine.

The category shūkyō articulated by the ACA carries three aspects: ‘group’ ‘teaching’ and ‘believers.’
All these aspects are dominated mostly by ‘Shinto’ and ‘Buddhism,’ whilethose for ‘Christians’ and
‘other religions’ contain much smaller in terms of numbers.In contrast, the Ministry of Internal
Affairs and Communications (MIAC) definesshūkyō in terms of ‘offices’ (jigyōsho) and ‘employees’
(jyūgyōsha). In 2009, MIAC’s category of shūkyō consists of 98,057 offices and 290,752 employees
(BBS 2015, p. 34). These ‘offices’ and ‘employees’ are subdivided into four categories of ‘Shinto’
‘Buddhist’ ‘Christian’ and ‘other religions.’

These ‘offices,’as classified as shūkyō by the MIAC,generally denote ‘religious organisations’ as

defined by the ACA. However, not all ‘religious organisations’ are ‘offices,’ since an ‘office’ has to
be a legal entity entitled to own property and employ people, for example. These offices are ‘legal
persons’ which are entitled to own properties and engage in economic activities. Therefore, ‘offices’
in shūkyō are likely to be ‘religious corporations,’ as certified by the Religious Corporation Law.In
this light ‘employees’ in shūkyō are those who are employed by ‘religious corporations.’ Thus this
category includes various kinds of people from ordained priests to administrative staff and other
support staff, as long as they are employed by a ‘religious corporation.’

In addition to the category shūkyō, MIAC’s statistics has the category of ‘other religion-related
industries’ (sonotanoshūkyō kankei sangyō), which is represented by more than 14,000 offices and
more than 170,000 employees (BBS 2015, p. 34). This category consists of ‘religious equipment
manufacturing industry’ (shūkyō yōgu seizōgyō), ‘cremation and cemetery management business’
(kasō bochi kanrigyō), and ‘wedding and funeral services’ (kankon-sōsaigyō). These represent
MIAC’s articulation of the ‘grey’ area between ‘religion’ and ‘non-religion.’

Firstly, ‘religious equipment manufacturing industry’ means the manufacturing of Buddhist and
Shinto alters and their accessories such as Buddhist tool stand (butsugudai), incense boards (kōban)
and fish-shaped wooden drums (mokugyo). This indicates MIAC’s categorisation of Buddhist and
Shinto alters as ‘religious.’ As explained later on, it is worth noting, however, that ordinary Japanese
people do not necessarily regard Buddhist and Shinto alters as ‘religious.’

Secondly, the category of ‘cremation and cemetery management business’ includes the management
of a columbarium,whilearbitrarily excluding ‘pets cemetery business.’ Although they are regarded to
be ‘religious’ by the MIAC, these businesses are not monopolised by ‘religious corporations.’ For
example, only 1.1% of crematoriums in Japan are run by a religious corporation (BBS 2015, p. 90).
With regard to the cemetery business, only 6.7% of cemeteries are managed by religious corporations
(BBS 2015, p. 87). Religious corporations have a larger share of 68% in the columbarium business
(BBS 2015, p. 88), but this still means about a third of columbariain Japan are managed by ostensibly
non-religious bodies.

Thirdly, ‘wedding and funeral services’ are related to the term ‘religion’ because the associations of
Shinto and Christianity with weddings, and the involvement of Buddhist priests in the significant
majority of funeral services. There are some specific contexts where these are categorised as
‘religious’ as distinct from other ostensibly non-religious types. However, at the level of colloquial

7
discourse, Shinto or Christian-style weddings and Buddhist funerals are not normally regarded as
‘religious.’ Again this issue will be discussed in later pages.

For MIAC, ‘religion’ is also an occupational category, which includes ‘religious professionals’
(shūkyōka). It is defined, in a rather circular way, as those who engage in ‘religious activities’ of
‘Shinto,’‘Buddhism,’‘Christianity,’ or ‘other religions.’ The category of religious activities includes
such activities as propagation (fukyō), missionary (dendō), memorial services (hōyō), and rituals
(saishiki) including ceremonies (shikiten). Examples of ‘religious professionals’ are listed as follows:
Shinto priests (shinshoku orkannushi), chief Shinto priests (gūji), deputy chief Shinto priests (gongūji),
assistant Shinto priests (negi), and assistant chief Shinto priests (gonnegi), Buddhist priests, including
chief Buddhist priests (jūshoku) and deputy chief Buddhist priests (fukujūshoku), bishops (shikyō),
pastors (shisai), fathers (shinpu), monks and nuns (shūdōsha), ministers (bokushi), missionaries
(senkyōshi, fukyōshi, or dendōshi), founders (kyōshu), a head of a church (kyōkaichō), doctrinal
instructors (kyōdōshi), and teachers (kyōshi).

It is noted, however, that the following occupations are excluded from the category of ‘religious
professionals’: ‘researchers on religion’ (shūkyō kenkyū-in), ‘shrine maidens’ (miko), and ‘faith
healers’ (kitōshi). ‘Researchers in religion’ are categorised as ‘researchers in humanities and social
sciences’ (jinbun-shakaikagaku-kei tō kenkyūsha), while ‘shrine maidens’ and ‘faith healers’ are
regarded as ‘workers in other service industries occupations’ (hokani bunrui sarenai sābisu shokugyō
jyūjisha).In the case of ‘researchers on religion,’ it is likely that they are excluded from the category
of religion, in the sense that their institutional affiliation to research organisations, typically
universities, are regarded as non-religious, even when they are denominational universities. It seems
more arbitrary to associate shrine maidens (miko) and faith healers (kitōshi) with ostensibly non-
religious ‘other service industries.’ For some, this may sound counterintuitive. Similarly, the practice
of divination and fortune-telling (ekidan) are also excluded from the categories of shūkyō. They are
defined as ‘other life-related service businesses’ (sonota no seikatsu-kanren sābisugyō). The
exclusion of miko and kitōshi as well as the practice of ekidan from the category of shūkyō is likely to
have originated in the prewar social classification where ekidan and other cultural practices performed
by miko and kitōshi were labelled as ‘superstition’ (meishin) rather than ‘religion’ (Josephson 2012;
Kawamura 2007; 2006). On the other hand, such occupations as funeralists (sōgishi) and cremators
(kasōsagyōin) are regarded as ‘religion-related occupations.’ They are not ‘religious professionals’
like Buddhist priests, but their occupational activities are closely connected to ‘religious
professionals.’ They often coordinate their business with ‘religious professionals.’ In this sense, when
funeral services and columbariabusiness are categorised as a ‘religion related industry,’ funeralists
and cremators are equally classified as ‘religion-related occupations.’

Contested Boundaries

Importantly, what is constitutionally shūkyō as distinguishable from the non-religious secular is highly
ambiguous. For this reason, right after the Second World War, the new constitutional codification of
shūkyō was not necessarily welcomed by those who were categorised as shūkyō. In many cases, it was
very confusing or even threatening for them. As Woodard (1972) reports, for example, when the Diet
ratified the Constitution, the Religions League of Japan (Nihon Shūkyō Renmei), representing leaders
from the three pre-war official religions expressed dissatisfaction with Articles 20 and 89. The
Religions League of Japan then prepared itself, under the guidance of SCAP’s Civil Information and
Educational Section (CIE), against the end of the Occupation and the impending autonomous
Japanese parliamentary power. The League was joined by organisations newly qualified into the
expanded category of post-war ‘religion’: namely, by the Association of Shinto Shrines (Jinja
Honchō), representing Shrine Shinto, in 1946, and the Union of New Religious Organisations of
Japan (Nihon Shin Shūkyō Dantai Rengō Kai), representing the so-called ‘New Religions,’ in 1950.
The result was the Religious Corporation Law of 1951 (shūkyō hōjin hō).

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The Religious Corporation Law had one specific purpose: “to enable religious organizations to
acquire legal capacity” (Woodard 1972, p. 98). The law “allows religions to incorporate, giving them
a legal right to own property and business enterprises” (Hardacre 2003, p. 138). By constituting
shūkyō as a legally certified organisational category, organised ‘religion’ became legally codified as
something essentially different from other kinds of organisation, therefore, claiming an independent
ontology in the public realm. Nevertheless, the post-war freedom given to the legal entity of shūkyō is
not limitless. The religious corporations have continued to be classified under the pre-war category of
kōeki corporations according to Article 34 of the Civil Code in 1896, which has continued to be in
effect throughout the post-war period. As for the post-war legal status of organised religion, Hardacre
(2003, p. 136) notes: “Religious organizations were recognized as working for the ‘public good’
(kōeki).” When ‘religious’ organisations are expected to be kōeki, it might indicate the subordinated
status of the category to the state. The expressed norm in the name of kōeki is that whatever is defined
as shūkyō is expected to serve the state, by being ‘good’ for the public.

The coexistence of the two concepts of shūkyō and kōeki can be difficult. The law defines the
organisational purpose of the religious corporation, in a rather circular way, as “to propagate religious
teachings, perform rituals, and teach and foster a following” (Amemiya 1998, p. 75). An implicit
notion here is that the ‘religious’ corporation is to propagate apparently ‘religious’ teaching. This kind
of circularity does not at all clarify what kind of distinctive quality is meant by ‘religious.’
Nevertheless, these ostensibly ‘religious’ activities are also expected to be for the so-called ‘public
benefit.’ Importantly, since the year 2000, the Public Benefit Corporation Law (kōeki hōjin hō) has
been revised and was subsequently reformed at the end of 2008. In this process, the concept of kōeki
was further scrutinised by the government. This forced many religious corporations as well as
ecumenical bodies such as the Japanese Buddhist Federation to reflect upon their kōeki status in
relation to their ‘religious’ activities (Shimazono 2004b; Tanaka 2004; Ishimura 2005).

There have been widespread concerns, for example, among Buddhist priests that the most common
activities carried out by priests, such as funerals, memorial services, graveyard management, and faith
healing, might not be defined as kōeki. While some claim that the everyday prayer they offer to the
Buddha ultimately benefits the public, a significant majority interpret the notion of kōeki more
instrumentally as practical benefit for society in general, or for many unspecified individuals (Rinshō
Bukkyō Kenkyūjo 2009). This understanding has been translated into various ‘socially engaged’
activities, and the emergence of socially engaged Buddhist temples and priests is widely celebrated by
academics and other commentators (e.g. Ueda 2004; Rinshō Bukkyō Kenkyūjo 2009; Inaba and
Sakurai 2009; Takahashi 2009; Akita 2009), while this trend may paradoxically force temples to
become divorced from the aforementioned organisational purpose of legally certified religious
corporations (Horii 2012).

What qualifies religious corporations’ activities to be distinctively and self-evidently ‘religious’ is

highly arbitrary and contentious in relation to other ostensibly non-religious secular categories. For
example, religious corporations must make the clear distinction between ‘religious’ and ‘commercial’
regarding the nature of activities they carry out. This is because of the tax exemption on their income
from ‘religious’ – therefore by definition, kōeki – activities. Religious corporations can be engaged in
‘commercial’ activities to a limited extent in supporting their aforementioned ‘religious’
organisational purposes. Importantly, the distinction between ‘religious’ and ‘commercial’ is often
disputed, for example, when Buddhist temples perform funerals, burials, and memorial services for
dead pet animals (e.g. Miki 2004; Ito 2009; Asatsuma 2006). Tax authorities have not been consistent
on such issues. In the case highlighted by Miki (2004) and Ito (2009), the court recognised the storage
facilities for the ashes of dead pets in a Buddhist temple as ‘religious,’ and the basis on which the
temple has been practising pet burial for some centuries as the centre of a local belief. Conversely, the
court pointed out that the pet-related services carried out by another temple were ‘commercial’
because the temple had published price lists for these services (Asatsuma 2006). This indicates that
‘religion’ as a concept is unclear in the eyes of public authorities. The demarcation between ‘religion’
and ‘commercial’ is a product of a complex process of negotiations between different parties, which
often requires the involvement of juridical authorities.

9
Another example is the money given to Buddhist priests at funerals. This is generally called ‘o-fuse’
meaning ‘offering.’ The items which are covered by this offering can be brokendown into the sutra
chanting (dokyō) at a funeral, the posthumous name (kaimyō) given to the deceased, food, and
transport. O-fuse is not taxable because it is regarded as ‘religious’ income (more specifically
‘donation’) rather than ‘commercial.’

O-fuse is claimed to be ‘religious’ in the sense that the act of giving out o-fuse itself is a ‘religious’
activity. Those who support this view often refer to the Buddhist concept of dāna,connoting the
practice of cultivating generosity, which purifies and transforms the mind of the giver, and reduces
one’s suffering from egoism. On this basis, it is stressed that the givers should decide how much to
give for o-fuse based upon their own specific circumstance. This rational supports the understanding
of o-fuse as ‘religious.’

However, the ‘price’ of o-fuse has been listed by many temples and priests, as well as commercial
funeral companies. The price list can be found for other ‘religious’ services commonly available at a
Buddhist temple, such as faith healings, sutra copying classes, meditation classes, and so forth.
‘Entrance fees’ for tourists to temple gardens and buildings as well as museums which display
historical artefacts, are generally regarded as ‘religious.’ These ‘fees’ are not defined by tourists, but
set up by temples. However, they are generally classified as a kind of ‘offering’ or ‘donation,’
therefore ‘religious.’

Similarly, the income from the selling of lucky charms and amulets at temples are also regarded as
‘religious,’ although the prices of these items are usually determined by the seller. When similar items
are sold in a department store, for example, the income from them is classified as ‘commercial.’
Another arbitrary example is income generated from graveyard managed by a Buddhist temple. On
the one side, the payment made for plots of land for individual graves is generally ‘religious,’
therefore non-taxable. On the other hand, the sale of gravestones is ‘commercial’ and taxable. Finally,
the selling of candles and incense sticks are ‘commercial.’ However, when these items are in the bags
with a temple stamp and the written word such as ‘kentō’ (literally, ‘a votive lantern,’ meaning
‘offering’) or ‘hōnō’ (votive offering), the fees from these can be regarded as ‘religious.’

I am highlighting these examples here to stress the ambiguity of the religious-commercial distinction.
As most of ‘religious’ services and items are accompaniedby ‘price’ and ‘fee,’ it seems theoretically
possible to be defined as ‘commercial.’ However, in reality, these services and items are maintaining
their ‘religious’ status. What is important here is that the distinction between ‘religious’ and
‘commercial’ is highly arbitrary and can be fluid.

The arbitrariness of the religious-commercial distinction causes disagreement and controversy. For
example, in 2009, a Japanese nationwide retailer Aeon “started advertising on its website funeral
services that included a price menu for things such as wakes, funerals, cremation and even the
dispensing of kaimyo (posthumous Buddhist names)” (Brasor 2010). The Japan Buddhist Federation
(JBF) protested over Aeon’s price list of o-fuse. JBF claimed that o-fuse is a ‘religious’ act, as
mentioned earlier, and therefore the ‘price’ has to be decided by the giver. Aeon was accused of
‘commercial’ invasion into the realm of‘religion.’

This provoked not only concern over the ostensible commercialisation of religion, but also questions
over kōeki status of Buddhist temples. Japan Times reports:

Japanese funerals are the most expensive in the world, but that’s not why Aeon’s smart-
consumer model is a threat to temples. What worries the Buddhist association is that by
commodifying the ritual elements of funerals, Aeon shines a light on the undeniable fact that
temples are in the funeral business, and the government, always on the lookout for new
sources of revenue, may revoke part of their nontaxable status as ‘public interest’ [‘public
benefit’ or kōeki] organizations. (Brasor 2010)

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A similar controversy was also triggered by the company Obohsan.com. It was established in 2004 by
a Tendai-shū priest, and specialises in dispatching Buddhist priests to funeral services. A newspaper
article in 2008 reported:

The type of funeral ceremony performed depends on the particular sect and regional customs.
When a sect is not specified, the company charges 42,000 yen for sutra-chanting at wakes and
84,000 yen at funeral services. Obohsan.com also has four price plans for posthumous
Buddhist naming--ranging from 31,500 yen to 157,500 yen. An investigation last year by the
Japan Consumers Association into fees bereaved families pay to temples for funeral
ceremonies revealed that the national average total paid for sutra-chanting, posthumous
Buddhist naming and financial offerings was 549,000 yen. (Takahashi 2008)

Obohsan.com was launched as ‘commercial’ business and offers Buddhist funeral services at
significantly cheaper rates than conventional ones. Its cheaper pricing was mainly due to the
requirement of a significantly cheapero-fuse which was listed by the company. Obosan.com was
established by a qualified Buddhist priests and the company claims the priests it dispatches are also
allqualified by one of the major Temple Buddhist denominations. This significantly undermines the
‘religious’ foundation of Buddhist temples’ involvement in funerals.

In September 2011, the Japan Buddhist Federation (JBF) issued a statement which protested over
Obohsan.com’s pricing of o-fuse. JBF believed that it goes against the spirit of o-fuse as an important
Buddhist ‘religious’ practice of giving. JBF accused Obosan.com of commodifying ‘religion.’ The
statementargued that Obohsan.com treatedBuddhist priests as commodities and the act of piety as a
service business. On the other hand, Obohsan.com insisted that its pricing of o-fuseaimed to alleviate
people’s anxiety over the cost of funerals. According to them, the alleviation of anxiety is part of the
Buddhist ‘religious’ practice of fuse, from which the term o-fuse originates. Thus, this commercial
company, led by ordained Buddhist priests, claimed that its business is based upon the ‘religious’
ideal of Buddhism.

Again in 2016, JBF issued another statement protesting over the commodification of ‘religious’
activities. This time the statement“criticized an online service available on Amazon Japan that
dispatches monks for memorial services, saying it excessively commercializes Buddhism” (Hongo
2015).The online service is called Obo-san bin, or Mr. Monk Delivery. It has been provided by the
Tokyo-based Minrevi Co. since December 2015. According to a newspaper report: “It is aimed at
helping those who need a monk to officiate at a memorial service but aren’t affiliated with any
particular Buddhist temple” (Hongo 2015). The basic package of the dispatch service is available for
¥35,000 ($290). The price includes donation, service fee, transportation costs and other necessary
charges, but does not include a separate ¥20,000 charge for kaimyō, a posthumous Buddhist title.

In contrast to JBF’s reaction, many Japanese seem to welcome the service provided by Minrevias
consumer-friendly and as an alternative to the conventional serviceswhose total cost could exceed ¥1
million. It has also been welcomed by Buddhist priests who have “been looking for ways to perform
rituals to earn a living and meet more people to share Buddha’s teachings” (Yamaguchi 2016). It has
been reported that while Obohsan.com claims to have about 200 registered priests, Minrevi has
contracts with 400 priests nationwide and some 100 came forward to register for the service. There
are number of similar companies in Japan, which provide work to a number of priests who would
otherwise struggle to earn their living from their ‘religious’ activities.

‘Religious’ or ‘Criminal’

In addition to the religion-commercial distinction, there are other similar binaries. One of them is the
binary between ‘religious’ and ‘criminal.’ Here are some examples of recent legal disputes.

According a report (Religious News Blog, 17 February 2005), a 36-year-old Shinto priest was found
not guilty of molesting a junior high school girl after a court recognised his touching of her body as
part of “religious practice, combined with Oriental medicine.” The priest touched the breasts of the

11
15-year-old girl “to dispel ‘negative vibes’ from her because she had problems with her health and
schoolwork.” In handing down the ruling, the judge acknowledged that the priest had touched the
breasts of the girl, but said of his actions, in the tradition to which the defendant belongs, there were
some cases in which the skin was touched directly, and one could not say that this did not constitute a
‘religious’ activity. The practice performed by this priest was called “o-saido.”

In contrast, forms of touching performed by some Buddhist priests were not regarded as ‘religious.’
Buddhist priests’ physical touching in the name of dispelling evil spirits have been criminalised in
recent years (Yomiuri Shinbun, 5 November 2004; 27 September 2005; 28 April 2006)2. In addition,
after a Buddhist priest in Hokkaido was accused of molesting a young girl in 2000, despite
protestingfor his innocence, he was found guilty of indecent assault in 2006 (Yomiuri Shinbun, 15
March 2006). The “faith healing” performed by this priest was understood by the court as “an act of
manipulating a young girl’s religious faith.”

Investigating the validity of these incidents is not my purpose here. What is more pertinent is that
these cases indicate the ambiguity around the term “religion.” There is no objective measurement
which can define whether something is ‘religious’ or not. There is no agreement on what constitutes a
‘religious’ activity. Many court cases involving Buddhist priests, for example, show ambiguity as to
what ‘religion’ is, or more precisely, what a ‘religious’ activity is. Those male priests who touched
female clients’ bodies were guilty of sexual assaults, when what they did was defined as “not religious,
but sexual.” In other words, when their act of touching could be seen as “not sexual, but religious,”
they would have been declared innocent. For example, the aforementioned Shinto priest was innocent
of the charges, partly because he could claim that his touch was part of the ritual called “o-saido,”
which was explained as a “religious practice, combined with Oriental medicine.”

Outside of sexual crimes, there are other cases of legal dispute revolving around the notion of religion.
For example, on 7 February 1996, Daily Yomiuri reported: “Fourteen people filed a suit Tuesday
seeking 58 million yen in damages from Myokakuji temple, its affiliated temple, 22 monks and others
for allegedly defrauding them under the guise of spiritual counselling.”The 14 plaintiffs said they
sought advice for personal problems at temples affiliated with Myokakuji, and paid 1.15 million yen
to 7.65 million yen each from February to October 1995. One of plaintiffs said, for example, that she
had been counselled by a psychic priest. The priest told her that her husband who was killed in a
traffic accident could not attain Buddhahood and that her son was destined to meet the same fate.
Under the circumstances, she felt compelled to comply with requests that she pay a total of 7.6 million
yen to the temple. A lawyer representing victims commented: “It is a systematic and fraudulent
business that takes advantage of victims’ fear regarding religious matters” (emphasis added).

In contrast, priests claimed that they had been performing “inspirational-vision faith healing” (Daily
Yomiuri, 1 November 1995) and importantly they defined their activities are ‘religious’ and denied the
accusation of ‘fraud.’ Having rejected such a claim, the judge stated: “It was organized and continued
fraud committed in the name of religion” (Daily Yomiuri, 20 July 1999). Interestingly, these priests
are also guilty in pretending that they possessed psychic powers (Daily Yomiuri, 20 July 1999). Here

2Yomiuri
Shinbun on 5 November 2004 reported that a 68-year-old priest was arrested for indecent assault.
He was accused of touching the lower abdominal area of a women in her 30s, who visited the temple to
receive the foetus memorial service. The priest was accused of sexually touching the woman while the
priest attempted to ‘clean the evil spirit’ from her. It was also reported by Yomiuri Shimbun on 27
September 2005 that a 60-year-old priest was arrested for indecent assault after he was accused of touching
the breasts of two women while he was offering the services to clean evil spirits from them. In addition,
According to the Yomiuri Shinbun report on 28 April 2006, a 76-year-old priest was arrested for an
indecent assault, when he was accused of touching an 18-year-old woman, while he was offering a service
to her. The priest admitted that he had touched her, but denied any sexual intention.

12
the court managed to define that Myōkakuji’s activities were not ‘religious’ but ‘fraudulent business.’
It is not clear what ‘religion’ is when Myōkakuji’s activities are said to be not ‘religious,’ but it gives
an illusion as if one knows what ‘religion’ is when it is said that Myōkakuji committed fraud in the
name of religion.

In Myōkakuji’s case, a self-claimed ‘religious’ organisation was accused of fraud when their
‘religiousness’ was denied. In another case, a self-proclaimed ‘non-religious’ organisation redefined
their activities as ‘religious’ in order to claim their innocence. On 15 September 2011, Japan
Times(Brasor and Tsubuku 2011) reported thata self-proclaimed ‘non-religious’ corporationShinsekai
had beenaccused of fraud:

Earlier this week, Toru Saito, the leader of a yugen-gaisha (limited company) called Shinsekai
(World of Gods), was arrested by the Kanagawa Prefectural Police for swindling five
customers out of more than ¥13 million. Shinsekai is a so-called spirituality business (reikan
shoho) that runs a chain of “salons” where people who are suffering physically or mentally
can be “healed,” mainly through prayer fees or the purchase of spiritually charged objects like
“power stones.”

The irony of this particular case, however, is that the defense is saying that Shinsekai is a
religion. One executive of the group, a woman named Akie Sugimoto, is currently on trial for
fraud, and her lawyers are claiming that it can’t be said that Sugimoto’s patrons were
swindled because they approached Shinsekai as a religion and thus participated in the various
activities as “believers.” The plaintiffs, however, are saying that they were told from the
beginning that Shinsekai was not a religion, and the fact that Shinsekai is not registered as a
religion (and, thus, presumably pays taxes) should bolster their argument.

Again, this is not to make a judgement on whether Shinsekai’s activities are really religious or not, but
to highlight that ‘religion’ is not a self-evident category. Its meaning is fluid and it is utilised with
specific norms and interests of the user.

Religion-Politicsand Religion-Sate Distinctions

Another kind of dispute occurs over the religion-politics separation. This is particularly the case
around the Komeitō (Clean Government Party), the party founded by the religious corporation of
Sōka Gakkai in 1964. Amongst many controversies surrounding this party, what is most pertinent for
this study is the ‘religious’ association that the party carries into the realm of ‘secular’ politics. Unlike
other political parties, Komeitō’s association with a well-known religious corporation has repeatedly
made the party vulnerable to the accusation of breach of the constitutional principle of religion-state
separation (e.g. Klein 2012; McLaughlin 2012; Baffelli 2011; Metraux 1999).

In 1993, for example, when a multi-party coalition succeeded in unseating the Liberal Democratic
Party (LDP) from their uninterrupted thirty-eight-year rule, Komeitō was part of the coalition and was
“soon identified as a major target for attacks by the LDP” (Klein 2012, p. 82). Komeitō’s inclusion in
the coalition was characterised as Sōka Gakkai’s alter ego, which was attempting to take over Japan,
despite all official claims of the institutional separation between the two. LDP politicians opposed
Komeitō’s presence in politics on constitutional grounds, as a breach of the separation between
‘religion’ and the ‘politics,’ and the March 1995 Tokyo subway attack by Aum Shinrikyō fuelled the
on-going anti-Sōka Gakkai-Komeitō smear campaign (McLaughlin 2012). Nevertheless, soon after
the LDP lost the 1998 Upper House election, it approached Komeitō leaders, seeking areas of
common interests, for potential political partnership (Metraux 1999). In 1999, Komeitō became part
of the ruling coalition including the LDP and the Liberal Party. Since the Liberal Party merged with
the Democratic Party of Japan in 2003, Komeitō alone, has been “key to the success of the LDP”
(Baffelli 2011, p. 225).

What controversies over Komeitō represent is the hegemony of the non-religious secular. Once a
specific value orientation and its organisational form are classified as ‘religion,’ in exchange for

13
constitutional freedom and legal privilege, it is difficult, if not impossible, for its followers to enter the
realm of ‘secular’ politics in an organised way, without wearing the badge of ‘religion.’ Although the
Komeitō has been a key ally for the ruling Liberal Democratic Party for many years, its association
with ‘religion’ has always followed the party like a shadow. For those who see the world through the
lens of the religious-secular dichotomy, it cannot be seen as a ‘proper’ political party, by bringing the
shadow of ‘religion’ into the realm of non-religious secular politics. It provokes the sense of
“pollution” (Douglas 1966) in the mind of the public and politicians as well as academics, who share
a belief in the religion-politics separation, because they perceive that Komeitō transgresses the sacred
boundary between ‘religion’ and ‘secular’ politics.

The next separation to be made is between ‘religion’ and the ‘state.’ The constitution codifies
‘religion’ as an entity which is somehow distinguishable from the state. However, this constitutional
separation has not been clear-cut. For example, whereas Article 20 (3) prohibits the government from
directly engaging in ‘religious activity,’ it is constitutionally acceptable for public schools to offer
“religious programs as extracurricular activities, as long as the school did not restrict itself to one
religion” (Van Winkle 2012, pp. 390-391). This is because in the constitutional separation of ‘religion’
and ‘state,’ it has generally been interpreted that “government actors may support religion, as long as
they do not deny other religions an opportunity to work with the state as well” (Van Winkle 2012, p.
391). The current mainstream interpretation implicitly assumes that ‘religion’ or something ostensibly
‘religious’ is an ontologically independent entity essentially distinguishable from the secular. It then
allows that the state can sponsor so-called ‘religious activities’ (as distinguishable from ‘secular’
activities) as long as the state-sponsored activities do not aim at preaching or propagating a particular
‘religion’ (as opposed to ostensibly ‘secular’ value orientations) nor have the effect of assisting,
encouraging, or promoting a particular ‘religion’ (O’Brian and Ohkoshi 1996).

The boundary is even more ambiguous and contentious in the case of state-sponsorship of Shinto
ceremonies. In 1977, for example, “the Supreme Court affirmed the constitutionality of the Tsu city
authorities’ donation of funds for the performance of a Shintō groundbreaking ceremony (jichinsai)
prior to the erection of some public buildings” (Yumiyama 2007). This conclusion was drawn on the
basis that “the ceremony aimed neither at propagating Shintoism nor at interfering with other religions”
(O’Brien and Ohkoshi 1996, p. 87). Then, the court added: “the ceremony had a secular purpose in
conformity with traditional folkways” (O’Brien and Ohkoshi 1996, p. 87). In qualifying the Shinto
ceremony as ‘religious’ or not, the criteria for the court’s decision were highly arbitrary: namely “the
generally accepted social idea” and “general public’s judgement.” This leads us to ask an important
question: What governs these criteria? Though a full examination of this issue would be beyond the
scope of this study, what can be said is that these criteria constitute a vague notion of social consensus,
which can be critically translated as the dominant ideology. The study of assumptions and beliefs
which govern the demarcating criteria of the religion-state boundary could form an important subject
of critical investigation.

Throughout the post-war period, many individuals and groups have turned to the court for the
enforcement of the constitutional provision for the disestablishment of the state’s support for
‘religion.’ According to O’Brien and Ohkoshi (1996, p. viii), such litigation “represents three separate
yet interwoven undercurrents of social conflict – conflict over militarism, the revival of governmental
support for Yasukuni and the emperor system, and demands for human rights.” Their study indicates
that the discourse of ‘religion,’ more specifically, ‘religious freedom’ has been deployed as a resource
by these citizens in their legal battles against the state.

Among these, the Yasukuni Shrine is probably the most illustrative example. The precursor to the
Yasukuni Shrine was Tokyo Shōkonsha, which was established in 1869 to commemorate the dead
soldiers of the Boshin War (1867-1868) which brought about the Meiji Restoration in 1868.
Following the creation of Japan’s modern army, it came to venerate men who died fighting for the
Empire of Japan. The vast majority of the Yasukuni war dead are the fallen from the Pacific War. The
shrine was maintained by the Army and Navy Ministry until 1946, when the Shinto Directive
divorced the shine from the state. Thereafter, the Yasukuni Shrine has been a religious corporation
which is entrusted with the nation’s war dead.

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Various issues surrounding the Yasukuni “can hardly be understood in state-religion terms” (Breen
2011, p. 278). In other words, we should not ask whether activities involving Yasukuni are essentially
‘religious’ or not. Rather, what can be more meaningfully examined is the ideological function of the
term ‘religion’ in the discourse surrounding Yasukumi. Politicians’ visit to Yasukuni, for example,
have been a controversial issue throughout the post-war period in the light of the constitutional
principle of the state-religion separation (Takizawa 1988; Shibuichi 2005). On the one hand, the
discourse of Yasukuni as ‘religion’ often functions to delegitimise violence associated with the pre-
war Japanese state, while it tacitly authorises and naturalises the post-war Japanese state as the non-
religious secular one. When violence and sacrifice in war become associated with the ‘religion’ of the
pre-war Japanese government, the souls of dead soldiers are represented as victims of brainwashing
by the state cult and those of military officials as ‘war criminals’ who were responsible for such
fanaticism. On the other hand, many wish to (re)unite Yasukuni with the realm of the non-religious
secular, for example, in the form of ‘official visits’ by the Prime Minister and the emperor, by
claiming the constitutionality of such activities. This can be seen as an effort to redefine Yasukuni as
a symbol of the Japanese nation and visiting Yasukuni as a patriotic act of paying respect to those
who sacrificed their lives to lay the foundation upon which the present Japanese state has been built.
Such discourse claims the ‘secularity’ of Yasukuni, and subtly legitimises the pre-war state
governance as non-religious secular and its militarism as part of a ‘rational’ strategy to fight for
national survival amidst the international power struggle during that particular historical time. Thus,
this type of discourse is likely to upset those who suffered from pre-war Japanese state violence. In
my view, what Yasukuni represents is the pre-war Japanese state. What is at stake here is the meaning
of Japan’s state violence and human suffering prior to 1945.

Chapter Conclusion

This chapter has highlighted that the category shūkyō was first invented in Japan in the nineteenth
century as the definitive translation of the generic notion of religion. It has also emphasised that the
discourse on shūkyōfunctions to naturalise the authority of the Japanese state. The idea of shūkyōas a
generic category was conceptualised as some kind of interiority, which was essentially different from
the national ethos of the state. In the pre-war Japan, the value orientations and their institutional
manifestation categorised as shūkyōwere Buddhism, Christianity, and sectarian Shinto. These
institutions were utilised by the state to disseminate the national ethos to the population. After the
Second World War, during the era of the Allied Occupation, the category of shūkyōwas expanded to
include the pre-war national ethos of Shinto and those faith groups that existed outside the pre-war
category of shūkyō. This chapter has so far argued that, in Japan, the notion of ‘religion’ (shūkyō) is
utilised, with specific norms and imperatives. Importantly, the meaning of ‘religion’ is entangled
within the legitimacy of power exercised by the Japanese state. In other words, any form of boundary
making between religion and the non-religion secular serves specific purposes and interests. Thus, the
religious-secular dichotomy is ideological, in the sense that it functions to naturalise specific
configurations of power.

In the contemporary Japanese context, ‘religion’ is a constitutional and socio-economic category,

deeply embedded in the operation of social systems. It is conceptualised as a distinct class of
organisations, teachings, activities as well as industries, occupations, offices, and employees. It is also
regulated to be separate from ‘state,’ ‘politics,’ ‘education,’ and ‘commercial activities.’ Nevertheless,
the contour of the category ‘religion’ and its boundary with ‘non-religion’ are highly ambiguous,
therefore, often contested. This chapter highlighted some examples of such ambiguity and contest
over the definition of ‘religion.’ These cases generally represents different interests and norms
expressed by groups and individuals involved. The term ‘religion’ is a rhetorical weapon, which is
utilised in relation to specific objectives. It is in this kind of struggle where different meanings of
‘religion’ are constructed and challenged.

In this chapter, the term ‘religion’ has been treated not as the tool of analysis, but as the object of
analysis. The next chapter extends this kind of perspective on ‘religion’ to the analysis of popular

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discourse in contemporary Japan. It examines contesting meanings of the term at the level of
colloquial language and in the popular literature.

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