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Subway Cult Martyred For The Foundation’s
Warhead-Makers In Fukushima


By Yoichi Shimatsu


This second article of a retrospective series on the 20th anniversary of the 1995 Tokyo Subway Gassing is by an editor with Tokyo’s then only two investigative reporting teams, one with the Japan Times Weekly and other at Takarjima 30 magazine. The yearlong probe exposed tneo-militarist politicians who created the Aum Shinrikyo sect as a front for covert acquisition and smuggling of weapons of mass destruction into Japan’s secret arsenal.

This essay focuses on the Aum Shinrikyo’s Science and Technology Ministry, an elite cadre that its chief Hideo Murai described as the highly visible “Foundation” dedicated to combating the globalist regime. Its other purpose was to protect the “Second Foundation,” a clandestine network of scientists and engineers that produces nuclear warheads at hidden labs inside civilian power plants, including the Fukushima complex. The master plan for the twin scientific organizations, one open and the other secret, was inspired from an unlikely source, sci-fi novelist Isaac Asimov’s epic “Foundation.”

Separated by 17 years, the Tokyo subway gassing and Fukushima nuclear meltdowns were caused by a seriously flawed official program aimed at the clandestine reemergence of Japan as a powerful militarist state. These self-inflicted disasters showed the risks of covert weapons development in foolhardy defiance of legislative oversight and in violation of constitutional law and scientific ethics.

Due to the illegality of chemical weapons and nuclear warheads, the neo-militarist authority, the “deep state” within the Japanese government, responded to both crises with disinformation, media censorship, threats against insider leaks and massive security crackdowns to intimidate the public and prevent investigations by unbiased prosecutors.

The sharp difference between the extroversion of the Aum cadres and the secretiveness of nuclear-bomb engineers at Fukushima was based on a two-tier structure conceived in the late 1960s by neo-militarist politicians and high-ranking bureaucrats in the powerful ministries of industry-trade and education-science.

The two-tier structure, with its direct parallels to the sci-fi epic “Foundation,” was based on the specific types of risk faced by each operation:

- the technological infrastructure for nuclear-warhead development and industrial-scale production of chemical weapons required the infiltration of weapons-researchers into industrial corporations, regional utilities, universities and research institutes;

- in contrast, high-risk special-operations involving cross-border smuggling and related bribery were compartmentalized into expendable cells planted inside several Japanese “new religions” until these operatives were merged into Aum Shinrikyo in 1986.

By no coincidence, the “cultist” state of Israel maintains a similar dual structure, with its secret official nuclear-weapons program embedded at Technion (Israel Institute of Technology), other universities and the Dimona complex, while the Mossad runs illegal smuggling operations to obtain plutonium from Western nuclear plants. Japan and Israel are rogue states in worse violation of nonproliferation treaties than third-rate players North Korea, Iran or Pakistan. Worst of all, the IAEA has utterly failed to acknowledge, much less challenge, their flagrant violations of international law.

Don’t See, Don’t Hear, Don’t Say Evil

At the peak of Japan’s economic prominence in the 1980s under the long tenure of Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone, few if any external observers paid the slightest attention to Japan’s crash program to develop weapons of mass destruction. The media and academia were single-minded in their focus on finance and trade. Intelligent and perceptive people accepted the myth of Japan Inc as No.1, extolling its peace-oriented consumer economy while downplaying the massive investment in military hardware. The rising defense budget was deigned a necessary evil, but harmless due to the constitutional guarantees of a peaceful foreign policy. This fallacy was promoted to assuage a Japanese public still traumatized by the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings, while nearly all foreigners including long-time expats were more than willing to be deceived.

Any questions about WMD in Japan’s possession were brushed off by the Foreign Ministry’s “gaijin handlers” at the Correspondents Club in Yurakucho. Get on with the boozing, boys and girls, and go look for some adult amusement in Roppongi. Don’t trouble yourself with questions. Still not satisfied? Wanna meet some geisha in Gion?

Much earlier, a 1968 internal government report drafted by then-Defense minister Nakasone stated with Machiavellian logic that Japan would stymie any foreign inquiry into its nuclear program:

"For the time being, we will maintain the policy of not possessing nuclear weapons, while keeping the economic and technical potential for production of nuclear weapons, meanwhile seeing to it that Japan will not be interfered with."

Yukiya Amano, current director general of the IAEA, was recruited out of elite Tokyo University just three years after that noxious policy paper was adopted by the bureaucracy, indicating his role as a mole acting on behalf of Japan’s merchants of death. The IAEA continues to undermine the nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty by the refusal of its inspectors to examine the origins and uses of war-grade plutonium at Fukushima, a regional center for underground nuclear-weapons facilities.

In the hysteria and confusion that followed the subway gassing, as captured in the name of the pick-up bar Gas Panic, the ugly questions were never raised by the press corps. Ignorance is bliss in the fool’s paradise billed as the “safest country in the world.”

Arrows on the flow chart

After clearing my own deadlines at the JT, I would make late-night visits to the cluttered offices of Takarajima 30 magazine. At informal editorial meetings, we’d go over the latest off the wires (news feed still chattered out of the teletype machines in long paper rolls), tantalizing items published only in English, and photos from Kyodo news service, along with tidbits picked up from friends connected with the US Defense Intelligence Agency. Every source would be sifted for clues about the political apparatus in control of Aum Shinrikyo.

One night, Takarajima’s chief editor proudly surprised me with a posterboard cluttered with names and red arrows. His confidential sources inside Aum’s ministries and police units had disclosed the cult’s links to former Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone. Shintaro Ishihara, Toshio Yamaguchi and the late Shintaro Abe had been exposed early-on due to their sponsorship of the Aum-run Russo-Japan University, a center to recruit Soviet weapons designers.

The new flow-chart illustrated an entirely separate set of relationships between Aum’s smuggling apparatus and Diet staffers working for Nakasone. It was unfamiliar territory, indeed, being unconnected to the smuggling of nerve gas or ebola virus, and I did not know what to make of it. Not until early summer when I obtained a copy of the notes of Aum-Moonie arms dealer Kiyohide Hayakawa, which mentioned the purchase of nuclear warheads from Ukraine, did I start to comprehend that Nakasone was running a clandestine nuclear-weapons program.

Arms Trade with Moscow

During the 1980s, Nakasone oversaw the expansion of Japan’s defense spending in a build-up against the Soviet Pacific Fleet. His foreign minister was Shintaro Abe, an old Moscow hand who had strong ties with the Kremlin hierarchy. Nakasone and Ronald Reagan, “Ron and Yasu”, contravening their public reputation for opposing the “evil empire,” secretly provided DEC computers to the Soviet Navy and high-tech Toshiba milling machines for silencing submarine propellers.

Their motive was to prevent the possibility of a Red October scenario (based on the Tom Clancy’s thriller “The Hunt for Red October”) in which a Soviet naval captain independently launches ballistic missiles against the US to prevent the Kremlin from selling out to Washington. From the docks of Tokyo port, DEC computers and Toshiba milling tools were transferred to the Soviet naval base at Murmansk on the Kola Peninsula. These computer-based systems meant that the launch button on every Soviet missile at sea would be under one index finger, that of CIA mole President Mikhail Gorbachev. (The sad fact is that the real history of the modern world was never reported in “the journal of record” that The New York Times pretends to be.) For Shintaro Abe, weapons smuggling was a two-way street in and out of Moscow.

Shintaro Abe’s excellent ties with the Soviet elite was a legacy from the wartime non-aggression pact signed by diplomats Yosuke Matsuoka and Vyacheslav Mikhail Molotov. Despite the Soviet war effort against Axis ally Nazi Germany, Japanese diplomats and spies for the Kanto Army conveniently rode the Trans-Siberian Railway into Europe under the terms of truce with Moscow. Nobusuke Kishi, the father-in-law of Shintaro Abe, was an official with the South Manchurian Railway, whose tracks linked up with the Trans-Siberian. Kishi later in the war became head of the Munitions Ministry. Kishi’s secret relationships with Russian apparatchiks was inherited by his son-in-law Shintaro Abe, who founded the Aum-administered Russo-Japan University in the late-1980s.

Manchurian Utopia

To understand the weirdness, the alien quality, of that year 1995, with its abortive coup launched with a cult’s subway gassing and then a gangster assassination attempt against the chief of the National Police Agency, one needs to recall the bizarre militarist experiment called Manchukuo, the lost utopia of the Kishi-Abe clan. In contrast to Japan’s communal agrarian-based rice culture with its nature worship and spiritual affection for a Solar Goddess, Manchukuo was a strange brew of technological America and the Soviet planned economy, viewed through the warped lens of Tantric Buddhism.

The millennialist state of Manchukuo was nominally ruled by a Gelugpa sect Buddhist god-king (the so-called Last Emperor), surrounded by female shaman-warriors exemplified in the bisexual Yoshiko Kawashima (in Manchurian: Xianyu Aisin-gioro) and Japanese Zen Buddhist military officers. Frenetic preparations of futuristic weaponry, crafted by Unit 731 and the Konan atomic-bomb project, were compelled by an apocalyptic vision of an impending Final War against Western colonialism.

Nobusuke Kishi served as chief accountant for this madcap circus, and his clan down to grandson Shinzo Abe have since replicated his dreams in dystopian experiments, including Aum Shinrikyo, the Fukushima nuclear-weapons complex and the coming post-Constitution military juggernaut. From my own traditionalist perspective, however, Manchukuo is a monstrous bastard that slaughters, boils and devours its parent society.

How did Nakasone fit into the Manchurian project in postwar Japan? Aside from his early post at Defense, Nakasone made his mark in parliament by introducing the 1954 Atomic Energy Basic Law, a priority objective of kingmaker Nobusuke Kishi. Earlier, in occupied northern Korea, Kishi’s Munitions Ministry had established uranium mines and the Japanese atomic bomb facility at Hungnam (Konan) Island, which has since become the core of the DPRK (North Korean) nuclear program.

In the late 1950s, as chief of the postwar Science and Technology Industry Agency in the Kishi administration, Nakasone supervised the construction of Japan’s first nuclear reactors. The wartime atomic bomb program thereby made a seamless transition from occupied Korea into the Tohoku region, starting with the Uzumine uranium mine in Fukushima Prefecture.

State Funding for Aum

The Takarajima 30 flow-chart tracked state funding from various Japanese government agencies, most headed by former Nakasone staffers, into Aum’s Construction Ministry led by arms dealer Kiyohide Hayakawa. Even before their incorporation into Aum, the Kobe-based smuggling team inside the Unification Church (Toitsu-kyokai) received grants from at least three Japanese state agencies. Nakasone’s role as nuclear maestro meant that Aum cadres were involved with smuggling Soviet warhead technology for atomic-weapons production facilities in Japan.

Grand Unified Theory and Gut Reaction

Science advances along a rising curve of empirical observation, experimentation, conception of various hypotheses to explain underlying processes, and finally substantive findings that verify the most elegant theory. Forensic journalism progresses along a similar path toward a breakthrough scenario able to encompass all aspects of an event.

During the Tokyo subway gassing affair, the most talented individual at pattern recognition was an American journalist who still prefers anonymity rather the celebrated status that he rightly deserves, and so my promise not to disclose his identity remains unchanged. One of his pen names is John Parker.

Parker had the rare acumen to view Murai for what he really was, the most intelligent Japanese to ever walk the earth, heads and shoulders above the A-list out of Tokyo University. Murai appreciated the respect shown by this total stranger in contrast with the disdainful abuse flung at him by Japanese reporters and foreign correspondents. At first, Parker was skeptical of seemingly fantastical claims from the Aum scientist, for example, his assertion that Kobe had been destroyed two months earlier by a “super-secret electromagnetic earthquake machine.”

The force of habit, which restricts one’s thinking to the little that is known, is the sternest enforcer of ignorance. Habitual thinking that limits us to received knowledge is the most formidable barrier against the advancement of science and other fields of inquiry. Luckily, Parker’s stodgy preconceptions were at that very moment challenged by a retired British intelligence agent, who provided evidence in support of Murai’s claim with a US patent filed by ARCO’s chief scientist Bernard Eastlund. (More on the subject of esoteric weapons technologies will be presented in another article in this series on the Tokyo Subway Gassing.)

Then a memory surfaced from his memory banks, the prequel to Aum Shinrikyo, recalled from a sci-fi novel that Parker read while still a young lad, Isaac Asimov’s masterpiece “Foundation.”

In that flash of recognition, Parker realized that the Asimov epic explains the organizational structure of the Aum science ministry and the yet-to-be identified Second Foundation, the latter presumably involved in Japan’s covert nuclear-weapons and industrial sarin programs. For those unfamiliar with this cycle of novels, started in 1966, here is a synopsis from the Weekly:

The Foundation tale centers around the plan of a mathematician named Hari Seldon who develops a new-found yet unproven science for predicting the future, which he calls ‘psychohistory.’ It is impossible to predict the behavior of an individual, but Seldon recognizes that the actions of groups are statistically predictable. The Galactic Empire has quadrillions of citizens on millions of planets, so extrapolations into the distant future are possible. His complex equations reveal the approaching collapse of the Galactic Empire.”

This scenario, of course, was in entire accordance with guru Shoko Asahara’s prediction of an imminent worldwide Armageddon. And, today, when looking around at the anarchic terrorism spawned by the Arab Spring and nonstop releases of Fukushima radioactivity, only penguins and diplomats could still be optimistic about the future of globalism.

Nothing can be done to prevent the empire’s demise. So the brilliant mathematician comes up with a detailed and complex scheme, known to later generations as Seldon’s Plan, that will enable civilization to rebuilt itself quickly, only in a 1,000 years as opposed to tens of thousands of years, and avoid much of the unpleasantness of another Dark Age similar to the era after the Roman Empire fell.

Hari and his colleagues establish an organization to keep intact the foundation of civilization through the coming wars and turmoil. It is appropriately named the Foundation. . . . . At one point, the Foundation even seems to take on the air of a religion.”

The Foundation, dedicated to preserving scientific research, is however destroyed by a usurper called the Mule. (This plot twist is uncannily prophetic of how neo-militarist leaders exploited Aum’s knowledge of chemical warfare in the subway attack and then sacrificed the sect when their attempted coup failed to dislodge the constitutionalists.)

All is not lost. The master mathematician had expected the unpredictable and set up another organization call the Second Foundation as a back-up plan. Nobody, not even the First Foundation, is aware of its existence.

To keep the Galaxy from falling into chaos, the Second Foundation infiltrates every institution of the existing civilization, placing their members inside government, academia, business and military circles. The Second Foundation is the real power behind the salvation of civilization. The First Foundation is merely a cover to take the fall if things go wrong.”

Aum did take the fall, accepting martyrdom to spare their colleagues inside the underground nuclear-bomb labs in Fukushima. With incisive acumen beyond the feeble grasp of mainstream correspondents, Parker asked: “So what attracted researchers to join Aum? What were they really up to? And where were they getting the money to do this research?”

He extrapolated: “What if Murai and his group were doing the same sort of (weapons) research now being conducted in the US and Europe but not done in Japan because of the political environment? Did Murai and some ‘leader of the Galaxy’ make a deal? Was Aum being used as a cover by another authority and then, for reasons unexplained, the cover was blown?”

Obvious questions that still, 20 years on, have never been raised in the mainstream media.

“The Aum Shinrikyo affair probably has poor Isaac Asimov spinning in his grave,” Parker concluded. “The thought of a group of Japanese Buddhists using his novels as a blueprint to restore Japan, the Empire, after a future world war, would have probably bowled him over.”

Was Aum’s similarities with the Foundation just a convenient analogy, mere coincidence? In separate admissions to other Weekly reporters, Murai and sect spokesman Joyu confirmed that Asimov’s Foundation was indeed the model for Aum and Japan’s covert special-weapons research project. There was and still is a Second Foundation.

Digging into the Underground

My search thus began for the secret weapons establishment promoted by the government’s ministries of industry-commerce and education-science. On visits to Aum’s Kamikuishiki-mura compound, those trained in chemistry, including Japan’s top organic chemist, noticed that the so-called sarin lab lacked the exhaust vents, large windows and sprinklers required to work with lethal vapors in an otherwise closed environment.

Hundreds of barrels of sarin precursors, however, were warehoused on site, meaning that Kamikuishiki was a transit center between a Yokohama chemical producer and the government-controlled nerve-gas facility somewhere in the mountainous interior. The Aum center served as a decoy since delivery trucks could come under surveillance by spy satellites or roadside security cameras. Transfer of the cargo to other vehicles under the cover of night would ensure undetected passage. An earlier nerve-gas release had occurred in Matsumoto, capital of Nagano Prefecture. The map showed the barrels of precursors were likely shipped farther into the Japan Alps or possibly as far as the Japan Sea coast. Dozens of fertilizer plants were located along the route, leaving our search with dozens of leads to follow.

At that frustrating crossroads, my editorship was terminated under orders “from above.” It came as no surprise after repeated warnings that “journalists just cannot cause the arrest of top politicians, not in Japan.” The Weekly website, which had scored by far the greatest number hits, in Japan’s emerging Internet news scene, was forced to shut down due to demands from the Dentsu ad agency, which aimed to control the nation’s top five websites for online advertising purposes. In Japan, winners and losers are determined from the starting line, and dark horses are sent from the racetrack into the sukiyaki pot.

To extend for a little longer the losing battle for truth, I launched Archipelago, named after Aleksander Solzhennitsyn’s novel about the Siberian gulag. The Japanese archipelago is a gulag.

It was just before exile to cyberia, while closing out at the Japan Times, my colleagues at Takarajima 30 phoned me late one chilly night. To get to their office, I had walk past a brightly spotlit footbridge in front of my apartment where, on one side of the Kanda River, a Tokyo Police detail was ready to provide access for a yakuza hit team to silence me and, on the other bank, National Police Agency officers were posted to prevent any such assassination for the nation’s only editor who dared to support their wounded chief Kunimatsu at the darkest hour. After hailing a taxi on a main road, I was wondering whether the phone call was bait for a trap. Paranoia? So far, at least seven people had been killed by gunshot during our investigation in the world’s safest country where guns are outlawed and violent coups never happen.

Inside the Takarajima office, the chief editor excitedly handed me a letter. It was a terrorist note, written in English, threatening to sabotage a nuclear plant if the police refused to release cult guru Shoko Asahara and his disciples from detention. The fascinating content of the terrorist note was described in one of my articles, republished below in its entirety.

The threat was carried out with two “accidents’ at the Tokaimura nuclear plant, both caused by “human error” in spring 1997 and autumn 1999. The earlier incident sent a plume of radioactive smoke over eastern Tokyo, an event unreported by the “free press” of the “free world.”

By chance, one of my former colleagues at the Japan Times had just done some reporting at the Tokai-mura nuclear plant.

I asked her: “Do any of the Tokaimura workers support Aum Shinrikyo?”

Her reply came with an ironic smile. “Aum has a huge following inside the nuclear industry among scientists and engineers. Tokaimura is packed with enthusiastic cult members.”

The Second Foundation Survives Fukushima

The Aum Shinrikyo sect bore the curse of Unit 731 and was martyred to protect the underground Second Foundation, the atomic-weapons production network hidden inside TEPCO’s “civilian” Fukushima nuclear power stations and other regional utilities plants in Miyagi, Iwate and Ibaraki Prefectures. To its credit, the Second Foundation did not shirk from returning the favor to Aum. Although the nuclear sabotage at Tokaimura failed to win the release of Asahara, it succeeded in sparing him the lethal injection.

Later, in 1999, an explosion ripped the Tokai uranium reprocessing facility in the most serious “accident” at a nuclear plant before Fukushima 311. Between these two man-made nuclear events, I used to drive hundreds of kilometers inside Ibaraki Prefecture in vain search for hidden nuclear-weapons sites, frequently moving past the gigantic Hitachi works on the coast.

Force of habit is the cause of ignorance, and in this case the Ibaraki-Fukushima borderline proved to be a purely psychological barrier. Had I only followed Highway 6 into Fukushima, the “Unholy Grail” of nuclear weaponry would have been within my grasp, right there at the TEPCO Fukushima complex. That discovery could possibly have have prevented the 311 nuclear disaster. Then again, crossing the line could have meant my disappearance, missing in action somewhere in a hole on the Abukuma Plateau.

Nuclear-weapons Sites

Now, 20 years older since reporting the subway affair, I have just completed the four-year search for secret nuclear-weapons production facilities in the Fukushima region and can now identify four weapons-related sites. Many of the nuclear scientists and engineers were killed by the March 11, 2011 earthquake that collapsed underground plutonium-extraction labs, releasing high-level radioactivity. Thousands of residents could not be rescued in the southern Minami-Soma, 14 kilometers north of Fukushima No.1, due to intense radiation levels streaming out of an underground nuclear-weapons plant, while Namie next-door to No.1 could be evacuated.

Why over two decades have the perpetrators of the Tokyo subway gassing spared the death penalty? Shinzo Abe and the rest of his Second Foundation owe a debt of gratitude to Asahara, Hayakawa, Seiichi Endo the chemist and the other inmates. For the current regime, Aum Shinrikyo are not state-sponsored terrorists responsible for mass murder, but are revered as patriots, heroes and martyrs.

Ignored in the war drive is the fact that the casualties of the clandestine arsenal of nerve gas and nuclear warheads are thus far innocent Japanese citizens. Intent on triggering a Final War, the Abe and Ishihara clans of the Manchukuo tribe are pushing to restart the plutonium-producing MOX-fuel reactors, thereby resuming the plunge into a Final War that will relegate the Japanese people and the rest of humanity to extinction.

Yoichi Shimatsu, a science writer based in Southeast Asia, served as general editor of The Japan Times Weekly and English-language consultant to Takarajima 30 magazine at the time of the Tokyo subway gassing. He has conducted extensive field research into the covert nuclear-weapons facilities inside the Fukushima exclusion zone. A related article is republished below.

Possibility of Terrorism Looms in Japan’s Nuclear Accident

By Yoichi Shimatsu for Pacific News Service, April 10, 1999

TOKYO. Japan’s worst-ever nuclear accident is universally attributed to human error. Workers at the Tokaimura reprocessing facility poured too much uranium into a chemical mixing tank. But some observers in Japan, myself included, have not ruled out the possibility that the incident was the result of a terrorist act.

This was, after all, the second major accident blamed on human error at Tokaimura in less than three years. In March 1997, flaming barrels of nuclear waste led to the airborne release of nuclear material over Tokyo, a story that went largely unreported by either the Japanese or foreign media.

Granted, Tokaimura workers may be sloppier than the average Japanese worker, even after a management shakeup following the 1997 incident, but they are highly skilled, highly paid and have a personal stake in their own survival. Another possibility that should not be discounted arises from a mysterious letter sent to a Japanese magazine in late 1995 by the underground Vajryana wing of the Aum Shinrikyo, the sect accused of releasing poison gas in the Tokyo subways earlier that year.

The staff of Takarajima 30 asked me to help decipher the coded message. At the time, I was the editor of the only publication in Japan other than Takarajima that was seriously investigating the Aum sect’s links to Japan’s top politicians, bureaucrats and scientists.

The message, in English on two legal-size pages, was embedded in a passage of literary criticism. The note was signed Shigekuni Honda, the name of a character in “The Sea of Fertility,” four novels by Yukio Mishima, who committed suicide immediately after the series was completed.

The letter was a rebuttal to an essay by Susan Sontag in which she claims the sci-fi genre is based on the fascination with catastrophe in the age of the Bomb. Instead, this critic asserted, science fiction is really about surviving catastrophe, and is therefore optimistic, and the key to the genre is the longing for a sense of scientific community resembling the craft guilds of the past.

A professor of American literature at one of Tokyo’s top universities, a specialist in science fiction, immediately recognized the passage as the work of literary critic Frederic Jameson. It was obviously selected as a defense of the Aum sect’s effort to build a community of scientists modeled after Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation” series.

The ultimate purpose of the guild, said the sect’s science minister Hideo Murai before he was murdered by a Korean gangster, is to rebuild civilization after a cataclysm and to combat the globalist institutions that are bringing on an apocalypse.

The Takarajima editorial staff cracked the code (JIS script inserted at intervals in the text), and I felt a chill as the deciphered message rolled across the screen. “If the Japanese government approves an anti-subversion law, there will be an attack against the Tokaimura reprocessing plant. A second attack will be launched in Southeast Asia.”

Soon after the story was published, the magazine Takarajima 30 was shut down, with no satisfactory reasons given.

Now, a week before the second anniversary of the Tokyo subway gassing, as prosecutors seek the death penalty for the sect’s guru, another fire breaks out in Tokaimura. This summer the Japanese government launched an all-out assault against the sect, unleashing widespread electronic eavesdropping, making arbitrary arrests and proposing a legal ban.

Were the coded threat and the subsequent nuclear accidents merely coincidental?

Another clue is contained in Asimov’s masterpiece. After the visible First Foundation was crushed by the Galactic Empire, the invisible Second Foundation persisted to eventually win the universal struggle.

A Japanese reporter who had extensively investigated one of the sect’s top scientists in Ibaraki Prefecture, where Tokaimura is located, has told me that Aum enjoys a huge following within Japan’s nuclear establishment, which is riddled with believers from millennialist sects. Canada’s main utility company was similarly penetrated by the Solar Temple sect.

Japan’s nuclear authority has rigorously prevented left-leaning scientists and laborers from working inside power plants, but they apparently overlooked the greater danger within.



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