Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 1, No. 2, 2002, Page 37
plot against him by the government and declared himself the messiah, warning that the
Third World War was close at hand.
Eventually, Egawa earned herself a visit from Asahara's devotees in September 1994. "I
was in bed one night and heard this noise from downstairs. At first I thought it was a
newspaper going through the letter box but it was too loud for that. Then there was this
weird smell, like nothing I've ever experienced before. I got up in time to see two men in
helmets fleeing in a car. They had sprayed a chemical called phosgene through the crack in
my door but heard me getting up." The police refused to arrest anyone.
Weapons
All this was but a sideshow to the cult's real mission — preparing to save the world by
destroying it. In addition to producing huge stocks of chemical agents, including sarin and
mustard gases and anthrax, a team was dispatched to Zaire to get a sample of the Ebola
virus. The cult smuggled a helicopter from Russia and began manufacturing AK-74 rifles.
Another team burgled a Mitsubishi factory in Hiroshima for technical data and artillery.
The group was investigated by the CIA for attempting to [assemble] nuclear weapons.
Some cultists worked for Russia's premier nuclear research facility, the Kurchatov Institute,
and Aum bought a 500,000-acre sheep farm in Baniawam, Australia, about 375 miles
northeast of Perth, for still unclear reasons. Aum documents made reference to the quality
of uranium ore in South Australia, one of the world's leading exporters.
In 1994, when a land deal was cancelled after the owner discovered Aum were the buyers,
Asahara ordered the murder of the judges presiding over the case. A team used refrigerated
trucks loaded with sarin to gas an entire neighborhood, killing seven — including two judges
— and injuring 600. Instead of going after Aum, however, the police arrested a hapless local
farmer with a small stock of agricultural chemicals on his premises, despite the fact that the
sarin had put his own wife in a coma. He was the only person they arrested in connection
with the gassing until July 1995.
Take the Keio Line from the same Shinjuku Station almost gassed in 1995, and get off 10
minutes later at Karasuyama, a cluttered suburb west Tokyo, and ask anyone if they know
where the Aum headquarters is. Nobody here calls them by their current name, Aleph. They
will point you to a five-storey redbrick apartment building tucked in off the main shopping
street. Outside stands a uniformed policeman and two plain-clothes detectives. Banners are
draped over neighboring buildings, reminiscent of residents' campaigns against drug
pushers in Dublin, telling the cultists to get out of the area. Inside the HQ are about 80
devotees, according to the police.
The building was shot at by someone last December, so they are here to keep the peace. I
buzz the intercom and ask if I can talk to someone. A timorous figure — thin, clean-cut, in
his early 30s — appears at the door. His name is Ito, Aleph's spokesperson.
Ito-san joined the cult in 1994, before Matsumoto and the subway attacks, so I tell him
most Irish Times readers will want to know why he is still here. "We accept that these
things were mistakes, but the teachings of Aleph are amazing and keep me in the
organization," he says. Is that the word he really means, "mistake"? Yes, he says.
Ito-san is not alone. According to police reports, the sect currently has about 650 full-time
leaders and teachers and up to 2,000 followers. Telegenic new leader Fumihiro Joyu is
considered a sharp media manipulator by many Aum watchers. Although the former leaders
are on death row, and most expect Asahara to eventually hang too, Aum still has property
and assets across Japan, including a number of businesses, and is using the Internet to
expand again after years in the wilderness.
plot against him by the government and declared himself the messiah, warning that the
Third World War was close at hand.
Eventually, Egawa earned herself a visit from Asahara's devotees in September 1994. "I
was in bed one night and heard this noise from downstairs. At first I thought it was a
newspaper going through the letter box but it was too loud for that. Then there was this
weird smell, like nothing I've ever experienced before. I got up in time to see two men in
helmets fleeing in a car. They had sprayed a chemical called phosgene through the crack in
my door but heard me getting up." The police refused to arrest anyone.
Weapons
All this was but a sideshow to the cult's real mission — preparing to save the world by
destroying it. In addition to producing huge stocks of chemical agents, including sarin and
mustard gases and anthrax, a team was dispatched to Zaire to get a sample of the Ebola
virus. The cult smuggled a helicopter from Russia and began manufacturing AK-74 rifles.
Another team burgled a Mitsubishi factory in Hiroshima for technical data and artillery.
The group was investigated by the CIA for attempting to [assemble] nuclear weapons.
Some cultists worked for Russia's premier nuclear research facility, the Kurchatov Institute,
and Aum bought a 500,000-acre sheep farm in Baniawam, Australia, about 375 miles
northeast of Perth, for still unclear reasons. Aum documents made reference to the quality
of uranium ore in South Australia, one of the world's leading exporters.
In 1994, when a land deal was cancelled after the owner discovered Aum were the buyers,
Asahara ordered the murder of the judges presiding over the case. A team used refrigerated
trucks loaded with sarin to gas an entire neighborhood, killing seven — including two judges
— and injuring 600. Instead of going after Aum, however, the police arrested a hapless local
farmer with a small stock of agricultural chemicals on his premises, despite the fact that the
sarin had put his own wife in a coma. He was the only person they arrested in connection
with the gassing until July 1995.
Take the Keio Line from the same Shinjuku Station almost gassed in 1995, and get off 10
minutes later at Karasuyama, a cluttered suburb west Tokyo, and ask anyone if they know
where the Aum headquarters is. Nobody here calls them by their current name, Aleph. They
will point you to a five-storey redbrick apartment building tucked in off the main shopping
street. Outside stands a uniformed policeman and two plain-clothes detectives. Banners are
draped over neighboring buildings, reminiscent of residents' campaigns against drug
pushers in Dublin, telling the cultists to get out of the area. Inside the HQ are about 80
devotees, according to the police.
The building was shot at by someone last December, so they are here to keep the peace. I
buzz the intercom and ask if I can talk to someone. A timorous figure — thin, clean-cut, in
his early 30s — appears at the door. His name is Ito, Aleph's spokesperson.
Ito-san joined the cult in 1994, before Matsumoto and the subway attacks, so I tell him
most Irish Times readers will want to know why he is still here. "We accept that these
things were mistakes, but the teachings of Aleph are amazing and keep me in the
organization," he says. Is that the word he really means, "mistake"? Yes, he says.
Ito-san is not alone. According to police reports, the sect currently has about 650 full-time
leaders and teachers and up to 2,000 followers. Telegenic new leader Fumihiro Joyu is
considered a sharp media manipulator by many Aum watchers. Although the former leaders
are on death row, and most expect Asahara to eventually hang too, Aum still has property
and assets across Japan, including a number of businesses, and is using the Internet to
expand again after years in the wilderness.
