The Fire of the Latter Days – A Japan That Will Not Burn Away

In recent days, a series of fires at temples across Japan has filled me with profound grief and rage.

Ancient buildings, sacred statues, and spiritual symbols that have carried over a thousand years of Japanese history and national spirit are collapsing in fierce flames, reduced to ash and scorched earth.

From my personal perspective, I cannot definitively confirm that these fires are deliberate.

But I also cannot bring myself to believe they are merely a string of unfortunate accidents. If my suspicions prove correct, then it means someone is intentionally attempting to destroy the spiritual foundations of Japan.

Similar tragedies have already unfolded in Europe.

In France, Father Olivier Maire kindly took in a newcomer, only to be brutally murdered.

The perpetrator had previously been suspected of setting fire to Nantes Cathedral (Cathédrale de Nantes), a church with nearly six hundred years of history.

In Germany, thirty percent of all church attacks and arsons in Europe in 2024 occurred there, according to the OIDAC Europe 2024 report.

In the United Kingdom, numerous churches have been broken into—statues smashed, walls defaced—acts carried out in the name of “respect our faith,” while erasing the faith of others.

These bloody facts are only the beginning.

When cultural conflict is deliberately ignored, tragedy does not disappear—it returns again and again, in ever more brutal forms.

Everything I described in Vessel (人器) has now become reality.

Europe is paying the price. The former empire on which the sun never set is turning into “Britain-stan,” and under the illusion of globalization, the world is rapidly sliding toward polarization and deterioration.

I must speak plainly:

The successive fires at Japanese temples are not merely accidents.

At the same time, I have no intention of placing all the blame on individuals—because what enables their smooth entry into Japan is, ultimately, Japan’s own legal framework.

The existing regulations lack clear cultural‑heritage protection clauses, lack mechanisms for assessing high‑risk behavior before entry, and lack a clear definition of the obligations expected of those who come to Japan.

Decisions are often made primarily on the basis of financial capacity—and, under the pressures of globalist trends, Japan has accepted significant numbers of newcomers without any form of cultural‑compatibility screening.

As a result, those who obtain visas or enter visa‑free—whether to travel, study, work, or conduct business—can include individuals who have no intention whatsoever of respecting Japan’s rules or cultural norms.

This institutional gap has contributed directly to the predicament we now face.

Under a system lacking cultural‑compatibility standards, individuals who do not identify with—or may even resist—Japan’s cultural values can settle here long‑term, sometimes attempting to impose their own customs and expectations on this land.

Together with a certain segment of Japan’s “progressive” left, they demand that Japanese people must be “tolerant” and must “understand” them.

What astonishes me is how completely reversed this is. Shouldn’t it be those of us who were not born into this culture who are expected to obey and respect Japan’s laws and traditions?

From my observation, what is happening now has already gone far beyond the realm of cultural conflict.

It has become a direct erosion of Japan’s cultural foundations.

As one temple after another falls in flames, I do not feel “surprised.”

These events force one to ask:

Is someone, through deliberate action, steadily undermining the foundations of Japan’s native civilization?

I cannot control the actions of others.

I came to Japan in pursuit of an ideal—and to distance myself from the very forces now encroaching here.

The last thing I want is to witness Japan being destroyed before my eyes.

Therefore, even as a foreigner, I feel compelled to offer my personal thoughts and suggestions. The fundamental solution must begin with the Japanese government itself.

First.  

apan should follow the example of the United States and enact legislation requiring strict and thorough screening of the social‑media activity of all would‑be entrants.

Only those who genuinely love Japan and are willing to respect its culture and laws should have the right to set foot on this soil.

If you look only at academic credentials, capital, and technical skills, while allowing in large numbers of people who harbor cultural hostility—or even outright hatred—toward Japan, that is not “openness.”

That is a slow suicide.

Second.  

I can understand, to a degree, the compromises the Japanese government has made under economic pressure and labor shortages.

But I do not agree with them.

If a billionaire capable of investing one trillion yen in Japan is, on the internet, calling for Japanese people to be killed and Japan to be destroyed—

does Japan really need that money?

If a person with high academic qualifications and specialized skills comes here only to steal Japanese technology and pass it on to another country—

does Japan really need that kind of “talent”?

If someone lives in Japan long-term yet insists on preserving their original customs exactly as they are, demanding that Japanese society bend, compromise, and pay the price for those customs—

does Japan truly need that kind of labor force?

And as for tourists who relieve themselves in public, litter, cut in line, shout, and show no respect whatsoever for public order—no matter how much they spend, is Japanese society really obliged to endure humiliation for the sake of that money?

So in the end, which is more important:

To preserve and protect Japan’s traditional culture,

or to solve economic problems and fill labor shortages?

Third.  

I have experienced these realities firsthand.

A poor writer who loves Japanese culture and obeys local laws may find it extremely difficult to obtain a long-term visa.

Meanwhile, someone with a complicated background, perhaps even harboring hostility toward Japan—say, an official or affiliate of a hostile state—can sometimes secure five-year visas for their entire family in a single application.

I understand that there is such a thing as national interest and diplomatic give-and-take.

But such exchanges should not come at the cost of a country’s future.

Yes, these people may bring in capital and certain diplomatic conveniences.

But they may also bring children and descendants who ignore Japanese law while enjoying privileges beyond those of ordinary citizens;

relatives who move and conceal illicit funds;

and individuals who, under the guise of being harmless, are in fact spies or operatives.

Is that really worth it?

I live in Japan as well.

Every day I study the language, try to understand the culture, follow the laws, and pay my taxes honestly.

When something goes wrong, I always ask myself first where I might have fallen short.

Even if one day my visa can no longer be renewed, I will accept the decision of the Japanese government.

Because I never forget this simple fact:

I am, in the end, an outsider.

And even if I personally have never taken part in certain collective wrongs, the consequences of those wrongs will eventually be stamped onto the entire group I belong to.

If that day really comes, I will still offer Japan my blessing.

I hope that in the waves of globalization, you will become—just as I wrote in my fiction—the last country on Earth that continues to defend its traditional culture and local values.

I hope the breathtaking landscapes of the Shikoku pilgrimage will stand unchanged against the times.

I hope the Myōjin torii in Yamagata will never fall.

I hope the rock deity in Uji will live to witness the future of humankind.

I hope that even the fire of the latter days will never be able to burn away the unique beauty Japan holds in my heart.

And I hope that day—the day when all of this is lost—never comes.

By VON(壹叔瘋神)