Sanae Takaichi: Japan’s New PM and What Her Election Win Means

Sanae Takaichi’s election win on Sunday was an extraordinary personal triumph for her, a revival of fortune for the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) and a disaster for everyone on the left. Japan has undoubtedly tilted somewhat to the right, but the outcome was a reflection more of Takaichi’s style and leadership than specific policies. For New Zealanders, the way she has inspired voters and revived a party in the doldrums recalls Jacinda Ardern. Takaichi now faces the tough task of translating her personal popularity into real change in Japan’s economy and society.

The scale of Takaichi’s victory was breathtaking. She secured more than two-thirds of the seats in Japan’s Lower House, more than enough to govern alone if she wishes. But she has promised to continue the coalition formed late last year with the Japan Innovation Party, which would take the government’s numbers to 352 out of 453. It is the largest victory by any political party in Japan since World War Two.

Most of the credit sits with Takaichi herself. With a reputation for being inflexible and difficult, she had already failed twice in bids to lead her party. In September 2025 she ran again, against the young and charismatic Koizumi Shinjiro, son of former PM Koizumi Junichiro. This time she won, with support from party members outweighing caution among her fellow caucus members. Made Prime Minister in October, within just a couple of months she reinvented her brand and turbocharged her popularity – reaching above 70% support in opinion polls (unheard-of territory for Japanese leaders) while her party languished well behind in the low 30s. She has softened her tough woman image, learned to smile (reportedly on the advice of her advertising agency), and communicated with voters in simple, forceful and passionate language. She justified calling an early election not on the basis of policy, but as a direct referendum on her leadership – a most unusual approach for normally modest Japanese politicians.

For New Zealanders her sudden rise and success in reviving a flagging major party recalls that of Jacinda Ardern in 2017. The two are very different: Ardern from the left, young (37 on taking office), and propounding a politics of kindness; Takaichi from the right, older (64) and known for tough conservatism. In place of kindness and inclusiveness, Takaichi vowed simply to “work, work, work, work, work” – and proved her point by holding a meeting at the Prime Minister’s office at 3am. Yet ‘Sana-mania’ recalls ‘Jacinda-mania’.

In her time in office Takaichi has shown a softer and more human side than her reputation had suggested. She has polished a highly direct, plain-spoken form of communication unusual in Japan, and has adroitly courted her fanbase with social media memes. Her back story is very different from the usual Japanese casting of ageing grey men from political dynasties (such as Koizumi’s). Takaichi is a step-mother to three children, married to a wheelchair-bound husband, and a fan of drumming and hard rock – as she demonstrated with a bemused Korean President Lee Jae-Myung last month. Her endless smiling has paid off. Leaders from Lee to Donald Trump and Keir Starmer have succumbed to her charm – earning Takaichi a perhaps unwanted (and certainly unnecessary) endorsement from Trump two days ahead of the election.

Takaichi now faces the challenge of translating personal political capital into real world change. Two years ago the LDP was near an all-time low: now it is riding high, but its policies have not changed. It is not clear that Takaichi will be any more capable of fixing Japan’s long-running challenges than her predecessors. By far the biggest issue on voters’ minds has been the rising cost of living and falling living standards, accelerated by inflation and a low yen.

Takaichi campaigned on a vague platform of ‘responsible fiscal expansion’, promising a temporary cut in tax on food (equivalent to NZ’s GST), as well as massive increases in spending on defence and on ‘strategic’ industries such as chip manufacturing – but without giving any indication of how to pay for it all. The markets are flashing warning signs (Japan has the highest government debt of any advanced nation and its bonds are at historical highs). Analysts also note the complete absence from Takaichi’s platform of serious micro-economic reform of the sort that former PM Abe promised (but only partly delivered). Without deregulation of tightly controlled markets such as agriculture and services (Uber for example is still not freely available in Japan), Japan’s dreadful productivity is not likely to improve. With no growth and slow-rising wages, the government is forced into tax cuts to inject more money into consumers’ pockets.

Leading up to Sunday’s election, even Takaichi fans seemed concerned that her platform was more about cheering on an idol than governing. In response to questions from a Tokyo Shimbun reporter last Friday, voters offered vague comments like: “She’ll do something good for Japan”, “She speaks her mind”, “She shows leadership”. There were few references to policy of any sort.

A female university professor worried that “Takaichi’s popularity is driven by the simple emotion of wanting to support women who are working hard in a male-dominated society”. As the first woman democratic leader in Japan’s history Takaichi’s gender has certainly been a key point of attraction – but it is not her only one. In Sunday’s election she actually won a higher proportion of male votes than female.

Takaichi has been assisted by stagnating living standards, a sense of frustration with traditional politics, and an uninspiring line-up of alternatives. Wholesale generational change beckons for the destroyed parties of the left. The main opposition group, the Centrist Reform Alliance, was led by two men in their late 60s who have been in national politics for decades. Both have announced their resignation. Ozawa Ichiro, an 83-year-old veteran who was an anti-establishment maverick way back in the early 1990s, lost his seat.

Much too much has been made of Takaichi’s ‘hardline conservatism’ and Japan’s tilt to the right. She is a hawk on China, a staunch ally of the US, and firm on social issues such as same-sex marriage and women using their own surnames – but her brand of conservatism is closer to New Zealand’s centrist National Party than what we would call far-right. Her approach suggests a policy wonk rather than a rabble-rouser. On economics she seems keener on fiscal stimulus than balancing the books. Rapidly rising immigration into Japan is certainly fuelling a nationalist reaction, but Takaichi has adroitly moved to occupy the space by suggesting fairly moderate policy measures such as tightening naturalisation requirements and regulating foreign investment in housing (as New Zealand has already done).

The size of her victory may encourage Takaichi to take aim at the goal of constitutional change. Her mentor Abe set his sights on revising Japan’s ‘peace’ constitution to fully recognise Japan’s Self-Defence Forces and enable Japan to play a more ‘normal’ role in national and regional defence. He succeeded in changing Japan’s policy but not its constitution. Takaichi already has the two-thirds supermajority in the Lower House required for constitutional change. Elections in 2028 provide the opportunity to do the same in the Upper House LDP. Achieving that would make her prime ministership truly historic.

Yet such talk overlooks the tough political grind that inevitably lies ahead. Voters’ comments make clear that it is not her policies that have made Takaichi such a darling of the public – whether on the economy, China or the constitution. Rather it is her style that they like – her directness, her decisiveness, and her sense of understanding and sharing ordinary people’s concerns. In a political world so long dominated by grey old men, she is a wind of refreshing change. So far voters have liked what they have seen. But she will now need to turn that freshness of approach into tangible results in improving the lives of her voters. If not, the honeymoon risks turning all too soon into disappointment.

*The opinions expressed are those of the author.

-Asia Media Centre