Tomiichi Murayama, Japan’s former prime minister and a figure whose legacy is intertwined with the nation’s reckoning over its wartime past, died on Friday, October 17, 2025, at the age of 101 in a hospital in his hometown of Oita, southwestern Japan. His passing, confirmed by Mizuho Fukushima, head of the Social Democratic Party, marks the end of an era and has prompted an outpouring of reflection and sadness from across Japan’s political spectrum.
Murayama’s rise to the top of Japanese politics was as unexpected as it was transformative. Born in Oita on March 3, 1924, as the seventh of eleven children, Murayama’s early years were shaped by hardship. His father, a fisherman, died while Murayama was still in junior high, leaving his mother to support the family through menial work. After the war interrupted his studies at Meiji University, he was drafted into the Japanese Army and was in officer candidate school when the conflict ended. Returning to university, he graduated in 1946 and soon began his political journey, first as a union organizer and then as a local council member. In 1972, he won a seat in Japan’s House of Representatives, where he would serve quietly for over two decades.
Murayama’s ascension to prime minister on June 30, 1994, at age 70, came as a result of a political crisis. The Japan Socialist Party, long a weak rival to the dominant Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), was unexpectedly thrust into a coalition with its adversaries and a smaller third party. As reported by The Guardian and The New York Times, the socialists were initially hesitant, but the conservatives made an irresistible offer: the prime minister’s post. Despite lacking cabinet experience or national name recognition, Murayama was seen as a down-to-earth, ordinary man—qualities that would come to define his leadership style.
His coalition government, led as head of what was then the Japan Socialist Party, lasted from June 1994 to January 1996. The arrangement was awkward and lopsided, leaving Murayama at the mercy of the LDP, which held most cabinet positions. Nevertheless, he managed to leave an indelible mark on the nation’s history through his commitment to reconciliation and honesty about Japan’s wartime actions.
On August 15, 1995, the 50th anniversary of Japan’s unconditional surrender in World War II, Murayama delivered what would become known as the “Murayama Statement.” In a televised address lasting less than five minutes, he acknowledged Japan’s “mistaken national policy” and the “tremendous damage and suffering” caused by its colonial rule and wartime aggression, particularly to Asian nations. “I regard, in a spirit of humility, these irrefutable facts of history, and express here once again my feelings of deep remorse and state my heartfelt apology,” he declared, as quoted by the Associated Press and The New York Times. He added, “Our task is to convey to younger generations the horrors of war so that we never repeat the errors in our history.”
The statement was a defining achievement, going further than any previous Japanese leader in expressing regret for wartime atrocities, including the killing, torture, and rape of millions in countries occupied by Japan. Murayama’s apology was not without controversy: it was constrained by conservative coalition partners and failed to fully ease resentment in China and South Korea, while also rankling Japanese nationalists. Yet, for nearly two decades, the phrases “deep remorse” and “heartfelt apologies” became staples in annual commemorations of the war’s end, as noted by The New York Times and BBC.
Murayama’s tenure as prime minister was also marked by significant domestic challenges. In 1995, Japan was rocked by two major disasters: the Great Hanshin (Kobe) Earthquake, which killed more than 6,400 people, and the Tokyo subway sarin gas attack, which left 13 dead and over 6,000 injured. According to AP and The Guardian, Murayama faced criticism for his government’s slow response to both crises. Despite these setbacks, he remained focused on his mission of reconciliation and support for those affected by war and disaster alike, including championing the law supporting atomic bomb survivors, known as hibakusha.
After resigning in early 1996, Murayama continued to play a role in Japanese public life. He remained an outspoken critic of successors who questioned Japan’s wartime guilt and emphasized the importance of building lasting friendships with neighboring countries, especially China. “A historical view saying Japan’s war was not aggression, or calling it justice or liberation from colonialism, is absolutely unacceptable not only in China, South Korea or other Asian countries but also in America and Europe,” Murayama stated in 2020, as reported by AP. He advocated for stable political, economic, and cultural ties in Asia, underscoring the need for mutual understanding and peace.
Murayama’s willingness to challenge both his own party and the prevailing national mood set him apart. Upon becoming prime minister, he broke with the Socialist Party’s long-standing opposition to the Japan-U.S. security alliance and the constitutionality of the Self-Defense Forces. This major policy shift, acknowledged by current LDP President Sanae Takaichi and Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba, was seen as a turning point in Japanese politics. “I think he made a very big policy shift and it must have been really difficult to persuade party members,” Takaichi said, recognizing the personal and political cost of Murayama’s decisions.
Reactions to Murayama’s death were swift and heartfelt. Members of both ruling and opposition parties expressed sadness, with Yohei Kono, former House Speaker and LDP president, praising Murayama’s “inherent sincerity and conviction” and his achievements at international summits. Kono specifically cited the 1995 Murayama Statement and the law supporting atomic bomb survivors as major accomplishments. Mizuho Fukushima, leader of the Social Democratic Party, described Murayama as “like a guardian angel,” recalling his advice to “do my best until the end.”
Beyond politics, Murayama was known for his humility and artistic side. He was an accomplished calligrapher, donating works to Shanghai’s municipal archive during the Covid pandemic with hopes of cheering up those affected. He believed, as one of his pieces read, that “credibility comes from being true to one’s words.” Murayama is survived by two daughters, two grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. His wife, Yoshie, passed away last year.
As Japan reflects on Murayama’s century-spanning life, his legacy remains a testament to the power of humility, honesty, and the enduring importance of confronting history—no matter how difficult that reckoning may be.
