Latest news with #Hosaka
Korea Herald
27-05-2025
- Politics
- Korea Herald
Tokyo-born scholar Yuji Hosaka steps into Seoul politics
Hosaka leads the DP's accusations against the PPP over alleged pro-Japanese remarks Yuji Hosaka, a Tokyo-born political scientist and professor at Sejong University in Seoul, is making his foray into South Korean politics, appearing alongside Democratic Party of Korea leaders at presidential campaign events — marking him as the latest foreign-born figure to enter the country's political arena. Although Hosaka publicly endorsed Moon Jae-in during the 2017 presidential election, he had not actively participated in party campaign events until recently. His affiliation with the liberal South Korean party further expanded on May 17, when he was appointed chair of the party's newly launched Committee to Eliminate Pro-Japanese Historical Distortion. The 14-member committee operates as part of the Democratic Party's official campaign structure through the June 3 presidential election. On Monday, during a press briefing at the Democratic Party's headquarters in Seoul, Hosaka accused the conservative People Power Party of promoting pro-Japanese narratives. His remarks came in response to recent controversial comments by People Power Party presidential candidate Kim Moon-soo, who claimed that Koreans under Japanese colonial rule were legally Japanese nationals. Hosaka strongly refuted the claim, saying it had no basis in the 1910 annexation treaty, the Meiji Constitution, or Japan's nationality laws at the time. 'The Japanese Empire treated Koreans as a separate group,' he said, 'placing them under surveillance as potential dissidents — not as fellow citizens.' 'New Right forces, backed by Japan, are working to distort historical facts to fit the claims of Japan's far right,' Hosaka added. 'Unless we eliminate these pro-Japan forces, another Yoon Suk Yeol will rise. This is a battle between common sense and absurdity, between defending the Constitution and destroying it.' The so-called New Right is a conservative movement in South Korea that emerged in the early 2000s. It seeks to reframe key historical events, including Japan's colonization of Korea, often portraying it as a period of modernization rather than oppression. In its statement Monday, the committee accused the New Right of reviving colonial-era narratives and undermining Korea's legal and historical identity. It denounced the theory of 'colonial modernization,' condemned the group's denial of wartime forced labor and sexual slavery, and warned against attempts to delegitimize Korea's sovereignty over Dokdo. The statement labeled the New Right 'an anti-state force.' According to the Democratic Party of Korea, the committee was created in response to a growing number of public statements by conservative politicians that downplay or justify Japan's colonial rule over Korea. 'This committee was not created for academic discussion,' one party official said. 'It is a response to direct political messaging that attempts to normalize the historical views of Japan's far right.' Hosaka has openly stated his alignment with the progressive bloc in South Korea. In a recent speech, he said, 'We must change the government and build a nation where people can live and realize their dreams. I will do everything I can to support those aiming to make that possible.' Asked whether he feared political retaliation, such as being blacklisted by conservative groups, Hosaka acknowledged the risk but said he would not be deterred. 'That possibility definitely exists,' he said, 'but I'm a rationalist. My political orientation has always been with the opposition here in Korea.' Reflecting on the 2015 comfort women agreement between Korea and Japan under the administration of former President Park Geun-hye, Hosaka criticized the process as fundamentally flawed. 'Even if you're conservative, you should be rational and trustworthy,' he said. 'The government failed to persuade the people. I believe the agreement must be renegotiated, but before that, we need to investigate why it was made in the first place.' Born in 1956, Hosaka moved to South Korea in the 1980s for academic research and became a naturalized Korean citizen in 2003. Over the years, he has emerged as a prominent advocate against historical revisionism and a vocal defender of Korea's sovereignty over disputed issues such as the Dokdo islets — called Takeshima in Japan. Since 1998, Hosaka has dedicated his academic career to Dokdo-related research and currently serves as the director of Sejong University's Dokdo Research Institute. His work focuses on gathering historical, legal and cartographic evidence to support Korea's territorial claim to the islets.
The Mainichi
21-05-2025
- The Mainichi
Crying brought no mercy: Rescuing the children of the Aum cult in Japan
TOKYO (Kyodo) -- Almost a month after the Aum Shinrikyo doomsday cult unleashed a devastating nerve gas attack on Tokyo's subway system on March 20, 1995, dozens of abused, famished children were rescued from its compound in Yamanashi Prefecture. The deadliest terrorist attack in Japan's history left 14 people dead and thousands injured. In its long aftermath, national attention mostly focused on the perpetrators. But Aum cultists had children who were separated from them and ruthlessly indoctrinated, innocent victims who have largely been forgotten. Two weeks after the attack, Mitsuo Hosaka, now 78, was working at a child welfare center in Yamanashi when police told him he would have to take charge of some of the children rescued from the Aum compound known as Satyam. Over 100 in total were saved, some taken in by relatives. When the 53 children arrived by bus on April 14, they were hungry and dirty, some so weak they could not stand. Hosaka was astounded by their expressionless faces. Some wore strange "enlightenment" headgear designed by cult founder Shoko Asahara and his team of engineers. In a recent interview with Kyodo News, Hosaka explained how he and his colleagues were determined to provide the children with a space that would make them feel safe. There were 27 boys and 26 girls, aged 4 to 14. A doctor decided eight needed to be hospitalized. The remainder had to be fed right away. "They had poor manners, and almost all of them scooped the food up with their bare hands," Hosaka said. "They wanted seconds and thirds. They licked their bowls clean." Aside from nourishment, the children needed help with bathing. From the day after their arrival, they played like mad and became filthy. They had been restricted from going out and were told poison gas attacks were happening. But even while playing, the children seemed to have no sense of camaraderie and would not play together. As victims of brainwashing, their mental health was the more difficult task. They were hostile and demanded to be returned to Aum. Some even tried to escape. But none said they missed their parents -- Asahara had forbidden that. "In the Aum teachings, the parent-child relationship is denied as an example of the desire for worldly things," Hosaka said. "They said they'd rather die than say they wanted to see their parents." Abuse was the norm at Satyam. An Aum "Minister of Education" would instruct the children for an hour every day. Their time was devoted to ascetic practices, singing Aum songs and sitting crossed-legged in the "zazen" lotus position. Those deemed to lack sincerity had their hands and feet bound. Some were held in this "bound lotus position" for 24 hours and could not even go to the bathroom. Tears were met with silence. The children were very afraid to talk about what they endured. But Hosaka began to see a change about a week after their arrival. Instead of playing by themselves, they began to play baseball, soccer and other team sports. They no longer spoke to staff in harsh tones. Gradually, smiles appeared. "I was happy to hear them call me 'sensei' for the first time after about a month," said Hosaka, whom the children had referred to using his surname without the honorific suffix "-san." Meanwhile, in the outside world, aftershocks of the subway attack continued. For weeks, staff restricted news about Aum. When the children were allowed access to TV, newspapers and radio to get them integrated into society, the arrest of Asahara struck a nerve. The children at first protested that the charges were lies. Yet they seemed to be going through the motions. The next day, they softened their tone. While playing, they viewed the news with disinterest. They were beginning to regain their childlike selves. Some began acting like toddlers. They became spoiled, selfish and clingy. "I guess they had been suppressing their desire to be spoiled by someone for a long time," Hosaka said. "They followed the nursing staff at the center around, demanding to be held and given piggyback rides." This, according to Hosaka, is a type of "re-pampering." Being able to trust and be spoiled by others was important for their integration. Three sets of parents and children were allowed meetings. The parents had left the cult and were judged to have no negative impact on the children. Hosaka recalled a visit by the mother of a 9-year-old girl, who at first refused a reunion. On the second attempt, the girl repeatedly asked, "Why is it only me?" Finally, the staff half-dragged her out to a garden where her mother was waiting. The mother slowly approached her, and they both stood frozen, facing each other. The mother then burst into tears. Her daughter's tears followed. "Before we knew it, they were hugging each other and crying silently. The staff cried along with them," said Hosaka, adding, "A boy who was watching said, 'Hey, can you get my mother to come and visit tomorrow?'" Hosaka vividly remembers the girl's pictures. Before their reunion, she drew her mother with a blank facial expression and lines drawn over it. Afterward, she drew her mom with a smiling face. Asahara's grip was slowly breaking. From April 25, the children began transfers to national child guidance centers. Children who were initially indifferent to their peers leaving began to wish them well. The last person to depart was a boy who was recognized by Asahara as the "youngest enlightened person." He was intelligent and, initially, very defiant. "He once stared me down when I asked him to do something, using tough words. He said, 'Is this optional or an order?'" Still, after about two months, even he began to smile. "In the end, he acted like a normal kid. He said, 'Come to my place and play some day,' waved good-bye and left." By July 12, after about three months at the center, all 53 children had left, ending their relationship with Hosaka. He never saw them again. "What type of adults did they become? Were they able to adapt to society? Are they happy today? Even now, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about those children." Hosaka believes that denying the parent-child relationship was one of the cult's gravest offenses. "Children develop a sense of self-esteem and trust in the world when they are loved by someone. If they are not properly cared for, they may continue to have difficulty living later." Being raised amid extreme views of parenting rooted in religion creates a harsh parent-child relationship, he adds. Asahara, whose real name was Chizuo Matsumoto, and 12 former Aum members were executed on July 6 and 26, 2018. The cult splintered into groups including Hikari no Wa, which continues to be under government surveillance. (By Manami Misono)
Kyodo News
17-05-2025
- Kyodo News
FEATURE: Crying brought no mercy: Rescuing the children of the Aum cult
By Manami Misono, KYODO NEWS - 3 hours ago - 12:40 | Feature, All, Japan Almost a month after the Aum Shinrikyo doomsday cult unleashed a devastating nerve gas attack on Tokyo's subway system on March 20, 1995, dozens of abused, famished children were rescued from its compound in Yamanashi Prefecture. The deadliest terrorist attack in Japan's history left 14 people dead and thousands injured. In its long aftermath, national attention mostly focused on the perpetrators. But Aum cultists had children who were separated from them and ruthlessly indoctrinated, innocent victims who have largely been forgotten. Two weeks after the attack, Mitsuo Hosaka, now 78, was working at a child welfare center in Yamanashi when police told him he would have to take charge of some of the children rescued from the Aum compound known as Satyam. Over 100 in total were saved, some taken in by relatives. When the 53 children arrived by bus on April 14, they were hungry and dirty, some so weak they could not stand. Hosaka was astounded by their expressionless faces. Some wore strange "enlightenment" headgear designed by cult founder Shoko Asahara and his team of engineers. In a recent interview with Kyodo News, Hosaka explained how he and his colleagues were determined to provide the children with a space that would make them feel safe. There were 27 boys and 26 girls, aged 4 to 14. A doctor decided eight needed to be hospitalized. The remainder had to be fed right away. "They had poor manners, and almost all of them scooped the food up with their bare hands," Hosaka said. "They wanted seconds and thirds. They licked their bowls clean." Aside from nourishment, the children needed help with bathing. From the day after their arrival, they played like mad and became filthy. They had been restricted from going out and were told poison gas attacks were happening. But even while playing, the children seemed to have no sense of camaraderie and would not play together. As victims of brainwashing, their mental health was the more difficult task. They were hostile and demanded to be returned to Aum. Some even tried to escape. But none said they missed their parents -- Asahara had forbidden that. "In the Aum teachings, the parent-child relationship is denied as an example of the desire for worldly things," Hosaka said. "They said they'd rather die than say they wanted to see their parents." Abuse was the norm at Satyam. An Aum "Minister of Education" would instruct the children for an hour every day. Their time was devoted to ascetic practices, singing Aum songs and sitting crossed-legged in the "zazen" lotus position. Those deemed to lack sincerity had their hands and feet bound. Some were held in this "bound lotus position" for 24 hours and could not even go to the bathroom. Tears were met with silence. The children were very afraid to talk about what they endured. But Hosaka began to see a change about a week after their arrival. Instead of playing by themselves, they began to play baseball, soccer and other team sports. They no longer spoke to staff in harsh tones. Gradually, smiles appeared. "I was happy to hear them call me 'sensei' for the first time after about a month," said Hosaka, whom the children had referred to using his surname without the honorific suffix "-san." Meanwhile, in the outside world, aftershocks of the subway attack continued. For weeks, staff restricted news about Aum. When the children were allowed access to TV, newspapers and radio to get them integrated into society, the arrest of Asahara struck a nerve. The children at first protested that the charges were lies. Yet they seemed to be going through the motions. The next day, they softened their tone. While playing, they viewed the news with disinterest. They were beginning to regain their childlike selves. Some began acting like toddlers. They became spoiled, selfish and clingy. "I guess they had been suppressing their desire to be spoiled by someone for a long time," Hosaka said. "They followed the nursing staff at the center around, demanding to be held and given piggyback rides." This, according to Hosaka, is a type of "re-pampering." Being able to trust and be spoiled by others was important for their integration. Three sets of parents and children were allowed meetings. The parents had left the cult and were judged to have no negative impact on the children. Hosaka recalled a visit by the mother of a 9-year-old girl, who at first refused a reunion. On the second attempt, the girl repeatedly asked, "Why is it only me?" Finally, the staff half-dragged her out to a garden where her mother was waiting. The mother slowly approached her, and they both stood frozen, facing each other. The mother then burst into tears. Her daughter's tears followed. "Before we knew it, they were hugging each other and crying silently. The staff cried along with them," said Hosaka, adding, "A boy who was watching said, 'Hey, can you get my mother to come and visit tomorrow?'" Hosaka vividly remembers the girl's pictures. Before their reunion, she drew her mother with a blank facial expression and lines drawn over it. Afterward, she drew her mom with a smiling face. Asahara's grip was slowly breaking. From April 25, the children began transfers to national child guidance centers. Children who were initially indifferent to their peers leaving began to wish them well. The last person to depart was a boy who was recognized by Asahara as the "youngest enlightened person." He was intelligent and, initially, very defiant. "He once stared me down when I asked him to do something, using tough words. He said, 'Is this optional or an order?'" Still, after about two months, even he began to smile. "In the end, he acted like a normal kid. He said, 'Come to my place and play some day,' waved good-bye and left." By July 12, after about three months at the center, all 53 children had left, ending their relationship with Hosaka. He never saw them again. "What type of adults did they become? Were they able to adapt to society? Are they happy today? Even now, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about those children." Hosaka believes that denying the parent-child relationship was one of the cult's gravest offenses. "Children develop a sense of self-esteem and trust in the world when they are loved by someone. If they are not properly cared for, they may continue to have difficulty living later." Being raised amid extreme views of parenting rooted in religion creates a harsh parent-child relationship, he adds. Asahara, whose real name was Chizuo Matsumoto, and 12 former Aum members were executed on July 6 and 26, 2018. The cult splintered into groups including Hikari no Wa, which continues to be under government surveillance. Related coverage: Victims of 1995 AUM sarin attack struggling with PTSD, survey shows Japan AUM cult web archive opens ahead of sarin attack's 30th anniv. FOCUS: Tokyo sarin attack survivors still struggling with health 30 yrs on
Kyodo News
17-05-2025
- Kyodo News
FEATURE: Crying brought no mercy: Rescuing the children of the Aum cult
By Manami Misono, KYODO NEWS - 4 minutes ago - 12:40 | Feature, All, Japan Almost a month after the Aum Shinrikyo doomsday cult unleashed a devastating nerve gas attack on Tokyo's subway system on March 20, 1995, dozens of abused, famished children were rescued from its compound in Yamanashi Prefecture. The deadliest terrorist attack in Japan's history left 14 people dead and thousands injured. In its long aftermath, national attention mostly focused on the perpetrators. But Aum cultists had children who were separated from them and ruthlessly indoctrinated, innocent victims who have largely been forgotten. Two weeks after the attack, Mitsuo Hosaka, now 78, was working at a child welfare center in Yamanashi when police told him he would have to take charge of some of the children rescued from the Aum compound known as Satyam. Over 100 in total were saved, some taken in by relatives. When the 53 children arrived by bus on April 14, they were hungry and dirty, some so weak they could not stand. Hosaka was astounded by their expressionless faces. Some wore strange "enlightenment" headgear designed by cult founder Shoko Asahara and his team of engineers. In a recent interview with Kyodo News, Hosaka explained how he and his colleagues were determined to provide the children with a space that would make them feel safe. There were 27 boys and 26 girls, aged 4 to 14. A doctor decided eight needed to be hospitalized. The remainder had to be fed right away. "They had poor manners, and almost all of them scooped the food up with their bare hands," Hosaka said. "They wanted seconds and thirds. They licked their bowls clean." Aside from nourishment, the children needed help with bathing. From the day after their arrival, they played like mad and became filthy. They had been restricted from going out and were told poison gas attacks were happening. But even while playing, the children seemed to have no sense of camaraderie and would not play together. As victims of brainwashing, their mental health was the more difficult task. They were hostile and demanded to be returned to Aum. Some even tried to escape. But none said they missed their parents -- Asahara had forbidden that. "In the Aum teachings, the parent-child relationship is denied as an example of the desire for worldly things," Hosaka said. "They said they'd rather die than say they wanted to see their parents." Abuse was the norm at Satyam. An Aum "Minister of Education" would instruct the children for an hour every day. Their time was devoted to ascetic practices, singing Aum songs and sitting crossed-legged in the "zazen" lotus position. Those deemed to lack sincerity had their hands and feet bound. Some were held in this "bound lotus position" for 24 hours and could not even go to the bathroom. Tears were met with silence. The children were very afraid to talk about what they endured. But Hosaka began to see a change about a week after their arrival. Instead of playing by themselves, they began to play baseball, soccer and other team sports. They no longer spoke to staff in harsh tones. Gradually, smiles appeared. "I was happy to hear them call me 'sensei' for the first time after about a month," said Hosaka, whom the children had referred to using his surname without the honorific suffix "-san." Meanwhile, in the outside world, aftershocks of the subway attack continued. For weeks, staff restricted news about Aum. When the children were allowed access to TV, newspapers and radio to get them integrated into society, the arrest of Asahara struck a nerve. The children at first protested that the charges were lies. Yet they seemed to be going through the motions. The next day, they softened their tone. While playing, they viewed the news with disinterest. They were beginning to regain their childlike selves. Some began acting like toddlers. They became spoiled, selfish and clingy. "I guess they had been suppressing their desire to be spoiled by someone for a long time," Hosaka said. "They followed the nursing staff at the center around, demanding to be held and given piggyback rides." This, according to Hosaka, is a type of "re-pampering." Being able to trust and be spoiled by others was important for their integration. Three sets of parents and children were allowed meetings. The parents had left the cult and were judged to have no negative impact on the children. Hosaka recalled a visit by the mother of a 9-year-old girl, who at first refused a reunion. On the second attempt, the girl repeatedly asked, "Why is it only me?" Finally, the staff half-dragged her out to a garden where her mother was waiting. The mother slowly approached her, and they both stood frozen, facing each other. The mother then burst into tears. Her daughter's tears followed. "Before we knew it, they were hugging each other and crying silently. The staff cried along with them," said Hosaka, adding, "A boy who was watching said, 'Hey, can you get my mother to come and visit tomorrow?'" Hosaka vividly remembers the girl's pictures. Before their reunion, she drew her mother with a blank facial expression and lines drawn over it. Afterward, she drew her mom with a smiling face. Asahara's grip was slowly breaking. From April 25, the children began transfers to national child guidance centers. Children who were initially indifferent to their peers leaving began to wish them well. The last person to depart was a boy who was recognized by Asahara as the "youngest enlightened person." He was intelligent and, initially, very defiant. "He once stared me down when I asked him to do something, using tough words. He said, 'Is this optional or an order?'" Still, after about two months, even he began to smile. "In the end, he acted like a normal kid. He said, 'Come to my place and play some day,' waved good-bye and left." By July 12, after about three months at the center, all 53 children had left, ending their relationship with Hosaka. He never saw them again. "What type of adults did they become? Were they able to adapt to society? Are they happy today? Even now, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about those children." Hosaka believes that denying the parent-child relationship was one of the cult's gravest offenses. "Children develop a sense of self-esteem and trust in the world when they are loved by someone. If they are not properly cared for, they may continue to have difficulty living later." Being raised amid extreme views of parenting rooted in religion creates a harsh parent-child relationship, he adds. Asahara, whose real name was Chizuo Matsumoto, and 12 former Aum members were executed on July 6 and 26, 2018. The cult splintered into groups including Hikari no Wa, which continues to be under government surveillance. Related coverage: Victims of 1995 AUM sarin attack struggling with PTSD, survey shows Japan AUM cult web archive opens ahead of sarin attack's 30th anniv. FOCUS: Tokyo sarin attack survivors still struggling with health 30 yrs on
Japan Today
16-05-2025
- Japan Today
Crying brought no mercy: Rescuing the children of the Aum cult
By Manami Misono Almost a month after the Aum Shinrikyo doomsday cult unleashed a devastating nerve gas attack on Tokyo's subway system on March 20, 1995, dozens of abused, famished children were rescued from its compound in Yamanashi Prefecture. The deadliest terrorist attack in Japan's history left 14 people dead and thousands injured. In its long aftermath, national attention mostly focused on the perpetrators. But Aum cultists had children who were separated from them and ruthlessly indoctrinated, innocent victims who have largely been forgotten. Two weeks after the attack, Mitsuo Hosaka, now 78, was working at a child welfare center in Yamanashi when police told him he would have to take charge of some of the children rescued from the Aum compound known as Satyam. Over 100 in total were saved, some taken in by relatives. When the 53 children arrived by bus on April 14, they were hungry and dirty, some so weak they could not stand. Hosaka was astounded by their expressionless faces. Some wore strange "enlightenment" headgear designed by cult founder Shoko Asahara and his team of engineers. In a recent interview with Kyodo News, Hosaka explained how he and his colleagues were determined to provide the children with a space that would make them feel safe. There were 27 boys and 26 girls, aged 4 to 14. A doctor decided eight needed to be hospitalized. The remainder had to be fed right away. "They had poor manners, and almost all of them scooped the food up with their bare hands," Hosaka said. "They wanted seconds and thirds. They licked their bowls clean." Aside from nourishment, the children needed help with bathing. From the day after their arrival, they played like mad and became filthy. They had been restricted from going out and were told poison gas attacks were happening. But even while playing, the children seemed to have no sense of camaraderie and would not play together. As victims of brainwashing, their mental health was the more difficult task. They were hostile and demanded to be returned to Aum. Some even tried to escape. But none said they missed their parents -- Asahara had forbidden that. "In the Aum teachings, the parent-child relationship is denied as an example of the desire for worldly things," Hosaka said. "They said they'd rather die than say they wanted to see their parents." Abuse was the norm at Satyam. An Aum "Minister of Education" would instruct the children for an hour every day. Their time was devoted to ascetic practices, singing Aum songs and sitting crossed-legged in the "zazen" lotus position. Those deemed to lack sincerity had their hands and feet bound. Some were held in this "bound lotus position" for 24 hours and could not even go to the bathroom. Tears were met with silence. The children were very afraid to talk about what they endured. But Hosaka began to see a change about a week after their arrival. Instead of playing by themselves, they began to play baseball, soccer and other team sports. They no longer spoke to staff in harsh tones. Gradually, smiles appeared. "I was happy to hear them call me 'sensei' for the first time after about a month," said Hosaka, whom the children had referred to using his surname without the honorific suffix "-san." Meanwhile, in the outside world, aftershocks of the subway attack continued. For weeks, staff restricted news about Aum. When the children were allowed access to TV, newspapers and radio to get them integrated into society, the arrest of Asahara struck a nerve. The children at first protested that the charges were lies. Yet they seemed to be going through the motions. The next day, they softened their tone. While playing, they viewed the news with disinterest. They were beginning to regain their childlike selves. Some began acting like toddlers. They became spoiled, selfish and clingy. "I guess they had been suppressing their desire to be spoiled by someone for a long time," Hosaka said. "They followed the nursing staff at the center around, demanding to be held and given piggyback rides." This, according to Hosaka, is a type of "re-pampering." Being able to trust and be spoiled by others was important for their integration. Three sets of parents and children were allowed meetings. The parents had left the cult and were judged to have no negative impact on the children. Hosaka recalled a visit by the mother of a 9-year-old girl, who at first refused a reunion. On the second attempt, the girl repeatedly asked, "Why is it only me?" Finally, the staff half-dragged her out to a garden where her mother was waiting. The mother slowly approached her, and they both stood frozen, facing each other. The mother then burst into tears. Her daughter's tears followed. "Before we knew it, they were hugging each other and crying silently. The staff cried along with them," said Hosaka, adding, "A boy who was watching said, 'Hey, can you get my mother to come and visit tomorrow?'" Hosaka vividly remembers the girl's pictures. Before their reunion, she drew her mother with a blank facial expression and lines drawn over it. Afterward, she drew her mom with a smiling face. Asahara's grip was slowly breaking. From April 25, the children began transfers to national child guidance centers. Children who were initially indifferent to their peers leaving began to wish them well. The last person to depart was a boy who was recognized by Asahara as the "youngest enlightened person." He was intelligent and, initially, very defiant. "He once stared me down when I asked him to do something, using tough words. He said, 'Is this optional or an order?'" Still, after about two months, even he began to smile. "In the end, he acted like a normal kid. He said, 'Come to my place and play some day,' waved good-bye and left." By July 12, after about three months at the center, all 53 children had left, ending their relationship with Hosaka. He never saw them again. "What type of adults did they become? Were they able to adapt to society? Are they happy today? Even now, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about those children." Hosaka believes that denying the parent-child relationship was one of the cult's gravest offenses. "Children develop a sense of self-esteem and trust in the world when they are loved by someone. If they are not properly cared for, they may continue to have difficulty living later." Being raised amid extreme views of parenting rooted in religion creates a harsh parent-child relationship, he adds. Asahara, whose real name was Chizuo Matsumoto, and 12 former Aum members were executed on July 6 and 26, 2018. The cult splintered into groups including Hikari no Wa, which continues to be under government surveillance. © KYODO
