The Creepiness of “Everyone Becomes a Buddha When They Die”—Why Haters Disappear from the Internet and the Japanese Belief in Vengeful Spirits

Baseball commentator Isao Harimoto has died.

There is no question that he was one of the greats as a player. After retiring, however, his blunt, no-holds-barred remarks—best known through his trademark cry of “Katsu!”—and his sometimes arrogant manner repeatedly stirred controversy. Some people even attacked him for being a Zainichi Korean. In any case, he had a great many haters.

I did not like him either.

His manner and comments on television often rubbed me the wrong way, and hearing the news of his death did not suddenly make me a fan.

And yet, when someone dies, the atmosphere online changes with astonishing speed.

“May he rest in peace.”

“He was a bold, larger-than-life figure typical of the Showa era.”

“Whatever else you might say, it was hard to hate him.”

Where did all the haters who had been everywhere until yesterday go?

The Haters Did Not Have a Change of Heart. They Just Fell Silent

The answer is simple.

They did not start liking him because he died.

They fell silent.

When a celebrity is alive, it is not unusual for people to write, “I hate him,” or “He is an out-of-touch old man.” But if someone writes, “I never liked him,” or “Good riddance,” beneath an obituary, that commenter will be piled on for being disrespectful.

So the critics disappear, leaving only those who had liked the person all along and those who want to pay tribute.

As a result, if you look only at the comments, it seems as though the person’s public reputation soared the moment they died.

The dead do not argue back.

The haters fall silent too.

Only the tributes remain.

It is rare to find such a powerful way to improve someone’s image.

In Japan, Everyone Suddenly Becomes a “Buddha” When They Die

Japan has long had a strong sense that one should not speak ill of the dead.

What is even more interesting is that deceased people are called hotoke-sama, or “Buddhas.”

It does not matter what kind of person they were while alive.

They may have been stubborn, disliked, or a thoroughly rotten person. The moment they die, they become a Buddha.

That is quite a bold promotion.

This brings to mind the Japanese belief in onryo, or vengeful spirits.

Japanese history contains many stories of people who died with grudges, were feared after death, and were enshrined with great care.

The most famous example is Sugawara no Michizane.

After losing a political struggle, he was exiled to Dazaifu, where he died. Later, when the capital was struck by a series of lightning strikes, epidemics, and other disasters, people feared that they were the work of Michizane’s vengeful spirit. He eventually came to be worshipped as Tenjin.

Taira no Masakado is a similar case.

Although he rebelled against the imperial court and was killed, after his death he was feared as a powerful spirit and enshrined in various places.

They defeated someone who had been their enemy.

“Now we are safe.”

But that was not how they saw it.

If anything, the enemy became more frightening after death.

So they enshrined him. In some cases, they even turned him into a god.

Looking at Japanese history, we sometimes find an astonishing form of risk management: “If this person might curse us, let us make him someone important for the time being.”

“Respecting the Dead” and “Rewriting History” Are Not the Same

People today presumably do not refrain from criticizing the dead on social media because they literally fear vengeful spirits.

Even so, the tendency not to speak badly of the dead, but instead to search for their good qualities and praise them, reminds me of the way Japanese people have related to the dead for centuries.

I find something slightly creepy about this.

There is no need to insult the dead.

But just because someone has died does not mean that their words and actions while alive have changed.

If someone was disliked, there was a reason. If they made problematic remarks, that fact remains.

Yet once an obituary appears, an atmosphere develops in which even the criticism expressed up to that point seems to have to be suppressed.

Then, as time passes, people begin to say:

“He may have had a sharp tongue, but deep down he was a caring person.”

“Looking back, perhaps we needed someone like him.”

Even the rough edges of the person’s image are gradually smoothed away.

Mourning the dead and rewriting how they were judged while alive are two different things.

Everyone Becomes a Buddha When They Die

I did not suddenly start liking Mr. Harimoto because he died.

That does not mean I intend to go to an obituary and write insults about him either.

Someone I disliked has died.

That is all.

That is probably about the right distance to keep.

But online, people are gradually turned into saints from the moment they die.

While they are alive, people attack them as much as they like.

But the moment they die, the insults disappear and stories about how they were “actually a good person” begin.

There is a Japanese saying: “When someone dies, everyone becomes a Buddha.”

Apparently, no spiritual training is required to become a Buddha in Japan. One obituary is enough.