On a hot day In July 1963, I was walking around Yokosuka, Japan, where I was waiting to join my first ship as a new ensign in the Navy. USS Constellation (CVA-64), the huge aircraft carrier on which I was to serve, was at sea. Having nothing to do for a few days, I was sightseeing in the Japanese naval port. There was some sort of shrine or temple atop a hill that I could see from the town, but getting to it proved to be impossible in the maze of tiny roads and paths.
Not knowing a word of Japanese, I tried in vain to find someone who could tell me how to get to that temple. Eventually, a couple of college age girls approached me and asked, “You want go to temple?” “Yes!” I replied enthusiastically. Instead of taking me up the hill, they took me down to what looked more like a storefront than a temple. “Here is temple,” they said indicating the sliding paper door. We went inside and took off our shoes before walking on a large area of tatami mat flooring.
Immediately, a young Japanese man came over and invited me to sit down. He began discussing religion with me in clear English. His method was basically to point out all of the strange beliefs that are articles of faith in the Christian religion and to disparage and ridicule each of them. He would point out that virgin birth is impossible or that Jesus could not have performed miracles such as raising the dead or curing leprosy.
Here he had a problem with me. An atheist, I agreed with almost everything he said. He became increasingly confused that I did not debate any point that he made. I began having fun with him. “Surely, Jesus walked on water; there were many witnesses. Even your divine Emperor must be able to do that, can’t he? Even good carnival magicians can do that.” I eventually told him that I had no religion. I believed in nothing supernatural, unless quantum physics counted. It was only supernatural because I did not understand it.
He saw hope in this. Here was a potential convert with whom he could omit the phase of conversion that calls for denigrating the religion and breaking down the faith of the subject. He shifted to asking me what I wanted in life – money, health, love, power, lottery win, etc. All of these were available to me if I were to become a Soka Gakki believer following the Buddhist teachings of a priest named Nichiren. He pointed to one end of the room where an American was groveling in obeisance with beads in his hands before a shrine of some sort. The guy was repeatedly mumbling some sort of mantra: “Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō.”
It was explained that repeating that mantra would bring you everything you wanted in life. The young man gave me examples of people who had been cured of deadly diseases and people who had become wealthy merely by reciting those strange words.
I asked what the words meant, but he did not know. Tiring of this nonsense and sweltering in the heat and humidity of the “temple” room, I told the young man that I viewed his religion as no different or less worthy of ridicule than any other religion. I said that his belief that mumbling nonsense would bring him happiness was foolish. Since “malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man,” I departed for the nearest air-conditioned bar.
Curious after that experience, I paid attention to news articles about Soka Gakkai. During the build up to World War II, the military leaders who controlled Japan had sought to foster the Shinto religion and rid it of Buddhist influences. Before this Buddhism and Shintoism had coexisted, and many Japanese believed in them equally. However, Buddhism was an imported religion, while Shintoism was native to Japan. Moreover, the neo-Confucianist Code of Bushido (“military scholar road"), although influenced by Buddhism, was seen as more allied with the nationalism of the Shinto religion. During the pre-war years support of Bushido and Shinto was state policy while Buddhism was neglected.
It was during this period that Soka Gakkai was founded as a branch of Nichiren Buddhism. The timing could not have been worse, for the peace loving leaders of the Soka Gakkai were imprisoned for not respecting the divinity of the Emperor. Their leader, Tsunesaburō Makiguchi, died in prison in 1944.
His successor, Jōsei Toda, was released from prison at the end of the war. The failure of Shintoism, which the Japanese people believed had lost the war, left a huge faith vacuum that was soon filled by Soka Gakkai. The downtrodden, destitute Japanese joined in droves. It had the benefit of being simple. One did not need to know all of the details or history of Nichiren Buddhism; one just needed to recite the mantra: “Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō.” One did not even have to know what those words meant (Devotion to the Mystic Law of the Lotus Sutra or Glory to the Sutra of the Lotus of the Supreme Law.)
Through controversial and aggressive recruitment and conversion methods such as I had experienced in Yokosuka, the membership in Soka Gakkai increased from 3,000 at the end of the war to 750,000 households by 1958. Its third president, Daisaku Ikeda, decided to expand membership internationally in 1960. This is why in 1963 the members were hauling gaijin (foreigners) like me off the streets to proselytize them.
Among Japanese, however, the religion was and, even today, is regarded with suspicion as a cult similar to what some Americans think of Scientologists or Branch Davidians. A Japanese friend once warned me that I should not tell anyone that he was a Soka Gakkai because he would be discriminated against if his membership in it were generally known. Nevertheless, membership in Japan has grown and they have formed a political party, Kōmeitō ("Clean Government Party"). Now, Kōmeitō is the third largest party and is often allied with the largest party, the Liberal Democratic Party. The two parties differ in outlook mainly in that Kōmeitō favors the existing peace constitution, while the LDP is looking to strengthen the military. Kōmeitō has not always been so peace loving, having been involved in scandals and by beating up and illegally wiretapping opponents.
By 1970, the Soka Gakkai claimed 200,000 members in the U.S. Many of these were American military men that had been stationed in Japan, had converted, and had brought the religion with them to America. The aggressive recruiting method that I experienced, Shakubuku (English: "break and subdue"), has earned the religion a bad name among many. They now claim 12 million adherents, worldwide, but most consider this number a great exaggeration. The sect has experienced a great deal of complicated internal fighting and splits. At one time the U.S. military considered it to be some sort of a threat, but it is generally ignored now.
I considered Soka Gakkai an evangelical phenomenon that sought out and found a place for itself among the poor, the gullible, the wretched of Japan -- and lonely servicemen away from home – especially those with Japanese girlfriends who were members. Many of the same sorts who are religious Christian fundamentalists in this country now would be members of Soka Gakkai had they grown up in Japan.
I must confess that I meditate to get to sleep some nights. The mantra that I repeat in my mind, the only one I know, is “Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō.” I have read an analysis of that mantra going back to its beginnings in India. It supposedly boils down to the natural principle governing the workings of life in the universe, or “blessed is the law of cause and effect.” I can’t argue with that, whatever the heck that mumbo jumbo means, but saying it hasn’t won me the lottery yet. Soka Gakkai members may believe that I must surely be on the direct path to enlightenment just for thinking about it.