A landmark rupture came in 1991, when Nichiren Shōshū formally excommunicated its largest lay affiliate, Soka Gakkai. Decades of mounting friction over doctrinal interpretations and control of temple property boiled over: the head temple at Taiseki-ji accused Soka Gakkai of “unauthorized teachings,” while the latter countered that the priesthood had become too insular. That split reshaped both organizations. Soka Gakkai forged ahead on its own path—building up independent centers worldwide—while Nichiren Shōshū tightened ritual oversight and reclaimed access to its centuries-old headquarters.

Soon after, defamation skirmishes flared in U.S. courts. Nichiren Shōshū sued Soka Gakkai members for distributing leaflets critical of temple authorities; in turn, Soka Gakkai countersued over allegations of financial impropriety at Taiseki-ji. By the mid-’90s both sides agreed to an out-of-court settlement: public statements were toned down, litigation dropped, and neither party admitted wrongdoing. That truce defused what had looked like a drawn-out public spectacle.

More recent flashpoints have revolved around academic access to temple archives and the authentication of certain Gohonzon scrolls. Digital-age transparency demands bumped heads with traditional vows of secrecy. A compromise emerged: researchers may now consult selected documents under supervision, a small but meaningful olive branch in a once-tight-lipped environment.

These controversies underscore a broader tension in modern Buddhism: balancing custodial authority with lay engagement. The Nichiren Shōshū–Soka Gakkai saga remains a cautionary tale about what happens when institutional hierarchy and grassroots energy collide. Yet, by quietly settling lawsuits and agreeing to limited scholarly access, both sides have shown a willingness—however grudging—to meet halfway. In an era where religious organizations face unprecedented scrutiny, those compromises may prove every bit as important as any ritual practice.