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Japan Today
14-05-2025
- Politics
- Japan Today
How close did the Aum cult come to getting a nuclear bomb?
On March 20 this year, people in Tokyo observed the 30th anniversary of the doomsday cult Aum Supreme Truth's nerve gas attack on the Tokyo subway system. Writing in Shukan Shincho (May 15), reporter Koji Kiyota relates the Aum's activities in the summer of 1993, the same year the cult succeeded in producing sarin, a toxic nerve gas formulated by German scientists at IG Farben in 1938. Aum guru Shoko Asahara (aka Chizuo Matsumoto) had allegedly exhorted his minions to manufacture 70 tons of the substance, which in theory would have been sufficient to kill all 7 billion people (at the time) inhabiting the planet. As one means to this end, the cult had already procured a large military helicopter from the former Soviet Union. It was also revealed that Asahara had directed the cult's scientists to research development of nuclear weapons. A key figure in the cult's efforts to build up its military arsenal was Naruto Noda, a member of Aum's "Ministry of Science and Technology" then headed by Hideo Murai. "Around the start of 1993, discussions began about the possibility of developing a nuclear weapon," related Noda, who completely broke off ties with the cult in 2009. "At first Asahara just asked us to look into it, but it was clear that he was serious about producing one." Ten years ago, Noda had spoken on the record about how a contingent of 20 high-ranking Aum members, including Asahara, traveled to Australia to look into mining uranium and developing a nuclear weapon. Kiyota finally followed up with a trip to Western Australia, where he met Mick Palmer, a former federal police official involved in the investigation. Palmer recalled the kerfuffle that transpired when the Aum contingent arrived at Perth airport. "We had been contacted following an incident at customs, but at that time we had no idea at all what Aum was," said Palmer. "They'd stated the purpose of their visit was tourism" For tourists, the Aum contingent were certainly carrying some bizarre items. Among them were containers labeled "hand soap" that upon testing were found to contain concentrated hydrochoric acid. Also among their possessions were an electric power generator and two excavation machines packed in containers measuring two meters square. The cultists were judged to be in violation of a number of customs restrictions and fined A$4,800. It was later learned that Asahara's group had chartered two light aircraft and set out for Banjarwan Station, in Australia's remote interior about 700 kilometers northeast of Perth, where the cult had paid out the equivalent of 24 million Japanese yen to purchase a ranch. The former owner of the ranch, Neil White, drove reporter Kiyota to a location about 20 minutes from the airfield, where he pointed out remnants of the cult's presence, including a depression in the ground measuring three meters in diameter and one meter deep. According to White, a number of foreign firms had previously conducted exploration for high-grade uranium ore in the area, and it appears that Aum's scientists had also undertaken serious efforts to do so. At the entrance to the ranch, a sign warns of danger. A one-story building, probably used to house construction workers, still stands. A video filmed back in 1995 showed a sign on the door that read "Toyoda Laboratory" -- so named after Aum scientist Toru Toyoda, a former graduate student of physics at the elite University of Tokyo. "Before the cultists left, they dug a large hole to conceal any evidence," David Parkinson, a state police official assigned to counterterrorism, tells the reporter. "It appears that glass fragments found therein had been subjected to extremely high temperatures." Was Parkinson describing something similar to trinitite, the glassy greenish residue left on the desert floor after the Trinity nuclear bomb test in July 1945, near Alamogordo, New Mexico? Alas, the writer doesn't say one way or the other. Also found on the ranch were numerous sheep carcasses, which forensic tests revealed had been exposed to sarin. Unfortunately these revelations did not surface until Aum members released sarin with fatal results in Matsumoto, Nagano Prefecture in June 1994 and on a larger scale in Tokyo in March 1995. "At that time, if proactive measures had been taken, the gassings might have been prevented," says Shizue Takahashi, whose husband Kazumasa, the assistant stationmaster at Kasumigaseki Station, was among the 14 killed in the March 1995 subway attack. Over 6,000 people were said to have been sickened to varying degrees by the gas, but because the day of the attack, March 20, was a Monday sandwiched between a weekend and a national holiday, subway commuters were fewer than usual -- otherwise the number of casualties would almost certainly have been higher. "People often say that the incident is fading from memory," Takahashi tells the magazine. "I've heard that to my face, but I feel like saying, 'So what?' People's memories will fade. But the legal team representing the victims are still fighting Aum's successor groups. "The emotional wounds and pain of the bereaved families and victims will never heal," Takahashi continues, adding, "The matter of compensation payments to the victims by Aum's successor groups, amounting to about 1 billion yen, remains unresolved." © Japan Today
Japan Times
21-03-2025
- Japan Times
Thirty years later, Aum Shinrikyo's horrors are ever-present
Thirty years ago this week, a self-proclaimed messiah and his followers stunned Japan and the world with a brazen terror attack. During the height of the morning rush hour, members of Aum Shinrikyo opened bags of sarin, a deadly nerve gas, on subway trains as they arrived at stations in the heart of Tokyo where central government offices were located. The attack killed over a dozen people and wounded thousands more. While stunning, the attack did not bring the nation to its knees. It did expose the inability of the political and law enforcement authorities to deal with a group that had made clear its belief that it and its followers were above the law — and the appeal of that claim to many within the country. Aum was started by Chizuo Matsumoto, a blind practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine, who took the name Shoko Asahara when he declared himself enlightened. He then claimed to be a guru so powerful that he could levitate while meditating. He was by all accounts a magnetic personality whose claims to divinity, along with distinctive preachings about Indian religion and health practices, were readily accepted by followers. At its peak, the group reportedly had as many as 65,000 members worldwide, 50,000 in Japan. Subsequently, Aum was accused of using drugs to instill obedience — and credulity — as well as more mundane methods of enforcing compliance such as deception and violence. The cult had compounds in Japan, as well as facilities in Australia and Russia, where the members lived together, studied and engaged in various illicit activities. Some of the group's practices, such as holding members against their will if they sought to leave, attracted the attention of Japanese legal authorities. Believing that the Japanese government would soon move against the group, Asahara ordered the sarin attack. At the peak of morning rush hour on March 20, 1995, several members of the group punctured bags containing liquid sarin on five cars on the Chiyoda, Hibiya and Marunouchi subway lines. The toxic compound spread through the packed trains, killing 14 people and injured more than 6,000 others. The attack confirmed the danger the group posed and the police raided their facilities soon after, discovering explosives, weapons caches and even a Russian military helicopter. Most disturbing were chemical stockpiles that could be used to make illegal drugs and were large enough to make enough weapons to kill several million people. Months later, police found chemical weapons in commuter stations that could have killed thousands. A crackdown resulted in the arrest of cult members, although the leadership remained at large for some time. Asahara was arrested two months after the attack when he was found hiding at one of the group's compounds. He and several other senior leaders were tried, convicted and given death sentences. Seven were hanged in July 2018 after their appeals were exhausted. Subsequent revelations about the cult proved even more alarming than the 1995 assault. It became clear that the authorities had been worried about the group for some time. There had been credible allegations of deception, kidnapping, abuse and other acts of violence against group members and critics. Especially grievous was the case of Tsutsumi Sakamoto, a lawyer who had been threatening a lawsuit that could bankrupt the group. He went public with complaints in an interview with TBS, which showed it to the group prior to broadcast. After pressuring the station to cancel the show, several members broke into his apartment and murdered him, his wife, his infant son and hid the bodies in separate locations around the country to avoid discovery. While the group was suspected of involvement — there were anonymous tips and a cult pin was found in the apartment — nothing could be proven until after the subway attack. Another grim episode was the release of sarin in the city of Matsumoto, near the homes of judges presiding over a case that the cult expected to lose. Eight people died in the incident and more than 500 others were injured. Aum's involvement was only discovered after the subway attacks. The authorities' blind spot is inexplicable. Takashi Kakimi, then director-general of the Criminal Affairs Bureau of the National Police Agency, has conceded that his group was 'indecisive' about raiding Aum before the subway attacks. He blamed a lack of sufficient evidence, despite growing concerns after those two incidents. Some have asserted that the prospect of charges of religious persecution deterred action. Thirty years on, Aum's dreadful legacy endures. Victims suffer still, dealing with the physical effects of the gas attack as well as with post-traumatic stress. The families of the 14 people who died live with their losses and the questions that surround the incident. A second legacy is the warning to law enforcement and emergency responders that they must be prepared for mass casualty terror attacks. The sarin incident highlighted the vulnerability posed by mass transit systems that are integral to daily life in Japan. The authorities have worked continuously since then to upgrade and improve security, including removing garbage bins that could be used to store deadly devices, installing cameras and creating protocols for handling suspicious objects. Sadly, authorities have also recognized that those measures cannot prevent attacks. Thus, there is constant training with police, fire departments and the Self-Defense Forces on how to respond to similar attacks. Particular attention is now given to protecting first responders so that they are not incapacitated and prevented from providing care in an emergency. A final legacy is the lingering questions about why Aum appealed to some of Japan's best and brightest minds. Its members included graduates not only from top schools like the University of Tokyo and Waseda University but also from demanding fields such as medicine and physics. What drew these people in? How were they convinced to participate in terrorist acts? These are not abstract questions. Aum exists today, with three successor groups — Aleph, Hikari no Wa and Yamada-ra no Shudan — 'still conducting activities under the absolute influence of Asahara,' warned Justice Minister Keisuke Suzuki this week. The group continues to attract adherents — there were roughly 1,600 members at the beginning of this year, estimates the Public Security Intelligence Agency — while engaging in legal tactics, such as changing names and changing legal representatives with alarming regularity, to avoid paying over ¥1 billion in compensation to victims of its crimes. It is likely that many of these people have no idea of Aum's crimes. That is why it is ever more urgent that we as a country remember what happened 30 years ago, understand the sources of the group's appeal and ensure that such tragedies never happen again. As Suzuki warned, 'problems related to Aum Shinrikyo are never a thing of the past.' The Japan Times Editorial Board
Fox News
20-03-2025
- Fox News
30 years after deadly Tokyo subway gassing, survivors and victims' families still seeking closure
Thirty years on from the fatal sarin nerve gas attack in Tokyo's subway network, survivors and families who lost loved ones are still seeking justice. Thirteen people were killed and thousands were sickened when cult members released sarin nerve gas in the capital's subway trains on March 20, 1995. The attack remains one of the most shocking atrocities in Japan, a country known for its low crime rates. The cult, Aum Shinrikyo or Supreme Truth, has since disbanded. Its founder, Shoko Asahara, and 12 of his disciples were executed in 2018. But 1,600 former members still operate under renamed groups and have ignored an order to pay damages to survivors and bereaved families. Shizue Takahashi lost her husband, a deputy station master, in the attack. The couple was just starting to enjoy time to themselves after raising three children when tragedy struck. "My life is still being ruined by Aum and its successor groups," said Takahashi, 78. "We need to carry on and not let the memories fade." People gasped for air and collapsed At 8 a.m. during the morning rush, five cult members got on separate train cars on three subway lines converging at Kasumigaseki, Japan's government center, each dropping bags of sarin on the train floors. They punctured the bags with umbrellas, releasing the gas inside the train cars. Within minutes, commuters poured out of the trains onto the platforms, rubbing their eyes and gasping for air. Some collapsed. Others fled onto the streets where ambulances and rescue workers in hazmat suits gave first-aid. Kazumasa Takahashi didn't know the puddle he was cleaning on the subway car floor was sarin. He collapsed as he removed a bag — a sacrifice some survivors say saved lives — and never woke up. The attack sickened more than 6,000. A 14th victim died in 2020 after battling severe after-effects. The subway gassing happened after a botched police investigation failed to link the cult to earlier crimes, says Yuji Nakamura, a lawyer for the survivors and the bereaved families. "It could have been prevented," he said. Two days after the gassing, Tokyo police, carrying a caged canary to detect poison, raided Aum's headquarters near Mount Fuji, where the cultists lived together, trained and produced sarin. Asahara was found in a hidden compartment. Apocalyptic cult Born Chizuo Matsumoto in 1955, Asahara founded Aum Shinrikyo in 1984. The cult combined Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity and yoga, and attracted young people disillusioned with materialism. He taught that death could elevate their spirits and justified killing as a virtue. Followers paid to drink Asahara's bathwater and wore electrical head gear they believed synchronized their brain waves with the guru's. He prophesized an imminent apocalypse, which only true believers would survive. Asahara gathered doctors, lawyers and scientists from Japan's top universities as his closest aides. Using donations from followers and earnings from yoga classes and health food businesses, they bought land and equipment. Asahara's scientists developed and manufactured sarin, VX and other chemical and biological weapons. In 1989, its members killed Tsutsumi Sakamoto, a lawyer who opposed the cult, his wife and baby boy. Their criminal activities escalated after their defeat in the 1990 parliamentary elections. A 1994 sarin attack in the central Japanese city of Matsumoto killed eight and injured more than 140 others. In all, Aum killed 27 people in more than a dozen attacks that culminated in the subway gassing. It was part of a plot by Asahara to hasten Armageddon, envisioning overthrowing the government. Still seeking redress Shizue Takahashi attended most of the Aum criminal trials. She has lobbied for government support, winning the enactment of a law to support crime victims and government benefits of 3 billion yen ($20 million) for more than 6,000 survivors and bereaved families of the Aum crimes. The government has also enacted laws banning sarin production and possession, and restricted the activities of groups linked to mass killings. Police have since established nuclear, biological and chemical weapons units and beefed up training. Aum's main successor, Aleph, has ignored a court order to pay 1 billion yen ($6.7 million) in compensation to survivors and bereaved families. The group has allegedly hidden billions of yen of income from yoga and spiritual seminars. Many of the subway gassing survivors still suffer health problems and trauma, according to support groups. Takahashi and others last week called on Justice Minister Keisuke Suzuki to do more to accelerate compensation by Aleph and keep them under close watch. Survivors and their supporters say lessons have not been sufficiently shared with the public. Shoko Egawa, a journalist and expert on Aum crimes, says attention on the group has largely focused on its crimes rather than teaching people to stay away from dangerous cults. "There is still a lot to learn from (the Aum problems), including how they attracted followers, so that we can prevent people from getting their lives ruined by cults," Egawa said. Takahashi recently launched a website that compiles articles and comments by survivors, lawyers and writers, including Haruki Murakami's 2007 article about his 1997 book "Underground." Aum's remnants At its peak, the cult boasted more than 10,000 followers in Japan and 30,000 in Russia and elsewhere. Aum has disbanded, but about 1,600 people belonging to Aleph and two smaller groups in Japan still practice Asahara's teachings, said the Public Security Intelligence Agency, which monitors the groups. Minoru Kariya, whose father was killed by Aum members in early 1995 while he was trying to get his sister to quit the cult, said authorities need to do much more to tackle the threat. "It's scary that they still exist and are operating as organizations and recruiting new followers," he said.
Yahoo
20-03-2025
- Yahoo
The chilling relevance of Tokyo's Cult of Aum terror attacks today
For the thousands of passengers piling into Tokyo's subway network on Monday, March 20, 1995, it should have been a commute like any other. The air was cool, the skies outside were clear, and the looming Spring Equinox – a national holiday in Japan –promised respite from the country's high-pressure work culture the next day. But unbeknown to the rush-hour crowds, among them were extremist followers of a doomsday cult about to enact Japan's deadliest domestic terror attack. At around 08:00 that morning, five disguised men punctured plastic bags with sharpened umbrellas as their separate trains hurtled towards Kasumigaseki station. The act would release a manufactured nerve agent originally developed by the Nazis in World War II, considered 26 times as deadly as cyanide. As the terrorists fled, the fumes left commuters choking, vomiting, and temporarily blinded. Thirteen were killed and over 6,000 were injured. Thirty years on and a new feature documentary Aum: The Cult at the End of the World, explores the cultural context that led up to the attack and carries a chilling relevance for a Western world rife with radicalist thinking today. Directors Chiaki Yanagimoto and Ben Braun see it as a 'cautionary tale'. 'This was a terrorism by Japanese people against Japanese people, and as a young kid, it was hard to grasp what the motives were,' says Yanagimoto, who was an elementary school student in rural Yamanashi province, home to the largest headquarters of Aum Shinrikyo ('Supreme Truth'). Concerns had been raised against the suspicious doomsday cult later convicted of the attacks – she says she still remembers 'my friends' parents warning the kids to be careful of people roaming around in white robes'. Aum Shinrikyo was founded as a yoga society in 1987 under the tutelage of Shoko Asahara (born Chizuo Matsumoto), a long-haired, partially sighted man who became a self-styled guru sometime after being reprimanded for selling tangerine peel to the elderly as a quack medical cure. In Japan's booming Bubble economy years, young people disillusioned with materialism may have thought they'd found the path to greater fulfilment when they stumbled across adverts depicting the purple-robed yogi seemingly hovering above the ground, promising to teach believers the powers of telepathy and levitation. The cult gained official status as a religious organisation in 1989; its following grew to 3,000 members. Asahara's teachings blended Hinduism and Buddhism (he'd brokered several photo opportunities with the Dalai Lama during his visits to Tibet), and later incorporated elements of apocalyptic Christian prophecies. But behind the walls of its communes, more sinister practices were taking place. Cult members were encouraged to sever contact with families, reject the material world, and forfeit their earnings – as bizarre 'energy transfer' practices involving wearing electrode caps and drinking Asahara's bathwater took place. 'Recommended sleep was as little as three hours,' one former cultist recalls in the documentary. 'The first time I saw him [on TV] was during his election campaign in 1990,' says Yanagimoto, referring to a failed, multi-million yen bid by Asahara and 24 other members of the group to gain seats in the House of Representatives that year. Having already widely published their own books and even anime, Asahara became a regular fixture on television. Yanagimoto feels that the media exposure played a prominent role in his influence: 'No one really saw him as a dangerous cult leader.' Braun adds: 'People were too willing to accept Aum as a spiritual pop culture sensation. There were numerous cases where the group could have been stopped.' By the time Aum's membership peaked at an estimated 11,400 in Japan in 1995, and 40,000 in Russia following a successful expansion following the fall of the Soviet Union, the cult had secretly murdered the family of anti-Aum lawyer Tsutsumi Sakamoto. When they released deadly sarin gas in a residential area in Matsumoto in 1994 – in response to local opposition to the group's expansion into the area, which also served as a test run for the efficacy of sarin as a weapon– they killed seven and injured 500. Asahara claimed to his followers that, in the coming Armageddon, non-believers would be doomed to eternal hell unless they were killed by cultists (a manipulation of the concept of 'phowa' in Tibetan Buddhism) and so the group set about manufacturing Kalashnikovs and chemical weapons. In a ploy to prevent an anticipated police raid on Aum headquarters in Yamanashi, Asahara ordered the attacks on the Tokyo subway. Yanagimoto feels that the cursory annual revisiting of the events in Japanese media fails to adequately scrutinise why such a tragedy was able to take place. 'There's a cultural aspect of not talking about what we're ashamed of,' she says. 'They say in Japan: 'If it stinks, put a lid on it'.' In 1997, celebrated author Haruki Murakami published an anthology, Underground, comprising the testimonies of 60 victims, responders, and eyewitnesses. The concept was a response to the author's feeling that the Japanese media of the day had been 'bombarding us with so many in-depth profiles of the Aum cult perpetrators [that] the 'victim' was almost an afterthought.' (He'd later respond to claims of one-sidedness by publishing The Place That Was Promised, a collection of interviews with former cult members, in 1997. Both parts feature in the Penguin Random House edition published in the UK). Though the book sold 270,000 copies within two months in Japan, Yanagimoto feels that 'the younger generation don't even know' about the cult and the people behind the attacks today. Aum: The Cult at the End of the World attempts to address this, with its talking heads including prosecutors; the bereaved families of children who left to become their followers; and Yoshiyuki Kono, who was wrongly suspected by both the police and the media of committing the Matsumoto sarin attack in 1994. The presence of Fumihiro Joyu – once one of Asahara's highest-ranking Aum affiliates; stationed in Russia at the time of the attacks – meanwhile highlights the lingering influence of the group in some corners of society: Joyu today leads successor group Hikari no Wa. His willingness to discuss his time with Aum, partnered with what feels like a side-stepping of responsibility for the group's actions, is the source of a thought-provoking denouement in the documentary: 'Rather than regret or remorse, I have to look forward,' he claims. Indeed, although Asahara and 12 other Aum Shinrikyo members convicted of the 1995 Tokyo sarin attacks were executed in 2018, the organisation still exists in some forms despite being designated a terrorist organisation in the US. As recently as June 2024, authorities believe Aleph, the most popular of the three Aum Shinrikyo successor groups (which collectively amass 1,650 followers), 'may conduct mass murders', with an official of the PSIA quoted as saying 'Basically, nothing has changed.' Yanagimoto and Braun hope that by revisiting the Tokyo sarin attacks and the cult of Aum behind it, important lessons can be learned. In today's landscape of populist politicians, social media echo chambers and conspiracy theories, the dangers of radicalisation and extreme action are widely pronounced – a 2025 report by the Edelman Trust Institute concluded that 53 per cent of people aged 18-34 (from a survey of over 33,000 people across 28 countries) currently 'approve of hostile activism' as 'viable' means to drive change. 'In America, it felt like we were entering this culture of multiple realities and narratives, and that kind of culminated in the Capitol riot of 2021,' says Braun. 'There were lines that Asahara said in the archival material that exactly matched what Trump was saying at the time. The radicalisation of these yoga students seemed to be like what was happening in American politics.' Braun hopes that Aum: The Cult at the End of the World will encourage younger viewers to 'question the narrative.' Aum: The Cult at the End of the World is in cinemas now Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
The Hill
20-03-2025
- The Hill
30 years after deadly Tokyo subway gassing, survivors and victims' families still seeking closure
TOKYO (AP) — Thirty years on from the fatal sarin nerve gas attack in Tokyo's subway network, survivors and families who lost loved ones are still seeking justice. Thirteen people were killed and thousands were sickened when cult members released sarin nerve gas in the capital's subway trains on March 20, 1995. The attack remains one of the most shocking atrocities in Japan, a country known for its low crime rates. The cult, Aum Shinrikyo or Supreme Truth, has since disbanded. Its founder, Shoko Asahara, and 12 of his disciples were executed in 2018. But 1,600 former members still operate under renamed groups and have ignored an order to pay damages to survivors and bereaved families. Shizue Takahashi lost her husband, a deputy station master, in the attack. The couple was just starting to enjoy time to themselves after raising three children when tragedy struck. 'My life is still being ruined by Aum and its successor groups,' said Takahashi, 78. 'We need to carry on and not let the memories fade.' People gasped for air and collapsed At 8 a.m. during the morning rush, five cult members got on separate train cars on three subway lines converging at Kasumigaseki, Japan's government center, each dropping bags of sarin on the train floors. They punctured the bags with umbrellas, releasing the gas inside the train cars. Within minutes, commuters poured out of the trains onto the platforms, rubbing their eyes and gasping for air. Some collapsed. Others fled onto the streets where ambulances and rescue workers in hazmat suits gave first-aid. Kazumasa Takahashi didn't know the puddle he was cleaning on the subway car floor was sarin. He collapsed as he removed a bag — a sacrifice some survivors say saved lives — and never woke up. The attack sickened more than 6,000. A 14th victim died in 2020 after battling severe after-effects. The subway gassing happened after a botched police investigation failed to link the cult to earlier crimes, says Yuji Nakamura, a lawyer for the survivors and the bereaved families. 'It could have been prevented,' he said. Two days after the gassing, Tokyo police, carrying a caged canary to detect poison, raided Aum's headquarters near Mount Fuji, where the cultists lived together, trained and produced sarin. Asahara was found in a hidden compartment. Apocalyptic cult Born Chizuo Matsumoto in 1955, Asahara founded Aum Shinrikyo in 1984. The cult combined Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity and yoga, and attracted young people disillusioned with materialism. He taught that death could elevate their spirits and justified killing as a virtue. Followers paid to drink Asahara's bathwater and wore electrical head gear they believed synchronized their brain waves with the guru's. He prophesized an imminent apocalypse, which only true believers would survive. Asahara gathered doctors, lawyers and scientists from Japan's top universities as his closest aides. Using donations from followers and earnings from yoga classes and health food businesses, they bought land and equipment. Asahara's scientists developed and manufactured sarin, VX and other chemical and biological weapons. In 1989, its members killed Tsutsumi Sakamoto, a lawyer who opposed the cult, his wife and baby boy. Their criminal activities escalated after their defeat in the 1990 parliamentary elections. A 1994 sarin attack in the central Japanese city of Matsumoto killed eight and injured more than 140 others. In all, Aum killed 27 people in more than a dozen attacks that culminated in the subway gassing. It was part of a plot by Asahara to hasten Armageddon, envisioning overthrowing the government. Still seeking redress Shizue Takahashi attended most of the Aum criminal trials. She has lobbied for government support, winning the enactment of a law to support crime victims and government benefits of 3 billion yen ($20 million) for more than 6,000 survivors and bereaved families of the Aum crimes. The government has also enacted laws banning sarin production and possession, and restricted the activities of groups linked to mass killings. Police have since established nuclear, biological and chemical weapons units and beefed up training. Aum's main successor, Aleph, has ignored a court order to pay 1 billion yen ($6.7 million) in compensation to survivors and bereaved families. The group has allegedly hidden billions of yen of income from yoga and spiritual seminars. Many of the subway gassing survivors still suffer health problems and trauma, according to support groups. Takahashi and others last week called on Justice Minister Keisuke Suzuki to do more to accelerate compensation by Aleph and keep them under close watch. Survivors and their supporters say lessons have not been sufficiently shared with the public. Shoko Egawa, a journalist and expert on Aum crimes, says attention on the group has largely focused on its crimes rather than teaching people to stay away from dangerous cults. 'There is still a lot to learn from (the Aum problems), including how they attracted followers, so that we can prevent people from getting their lives ruined by cults,' Egawa said. Takahashi recently launched a website that compiles articles and comments by survivors, lawyers and writers, including Haruki Murakami's 2007 article about his 1997 book 'Underground.' Aum's remnants At its peak, the cult boasted more than 10,000 followers in Japan and 30,000 in Russia and elsewhere. Aum has disbanded, but about 1,600 people belonging to Aleph and two smaller groups in Japan still practice Asahara's teachings, said the Public Security Intelligence Agency, which monitors the groups. Minoru Kariya, whose father was killed by Aum members in early 1995 while he was trying to get his sister to quit the cult, said authorities need to do much more to tackle the threat. 'It's scary that they still exist and are operating as organizations and recruiting new followers,' he said.
