Tokyo
—
In a scene usually reserved for J-pop stars, thousands of fans braved the cold outside a small train station on the outskirts of Tokyo, holding their phones aloft to catch a glimpse of Japan’s latest craze.
Suddenly, Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi stepped onto the concrete sidewalk, and a murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd in hopes of swinging votes for the Liberal Democratic Party in Sunday’s snap election.
Takaichi called a general election just three months after taking office as prime minister, and promised to resign if the Liberal Democratic Party did not secure a majority. This is a rare and risky move in Japan’s typically cautious political culture.
However, Mr. Takaichi is no ordinary Japanese politician. Since coming to power in October, the motorcycle-riding, social media-gaming heavy metal drummer has been dispelling the traditional male-dominated image of Japanese politics.
Even before this weekend’s vote results are in, she has secured the support of US President Donald Trump, who congratulated her with his “full and complete support” and an invitation to the White House next month.
But it’s the people at home that matter, and Takaichi is feeling a huge groundswell of support among young voters, with short clips of pithy, slogan-worthy lines appearing online alongside viral videos of him meeting world leaders. Last month, he performed K-pop hit songs with President Lee Jae-myung, who was visiting South Korea.
The book details the details of her daily life, from the bag she carries to the pen she carries, emphasizing her carefully cultivated image as a leader who is close to the people.
In her hometown of Nara, souvenir shops sell towels, keychains, stationery with her slogan, and even cookies with her portrait next to that of her political idol, former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.
Two 20-year-old students told CNN that what first drew them in was Takaichi’s smile. They call her “Sana-chan,” not “Prime Minister” or even “Takaichi-san,” deploying an affectionate suffix usually reserved for close friends. Some proudly point out that she uses the same pen as the Prime Minister.
“It makes me feel closer to her,” she says.
“We’re seeing a lot of posts on social media that show how hard she’s working compared to the previous prime minister,” Yuho Oishi added. “I can see that young people are becoming interested in politics because of this.”
Social media has been used by politicians around the world to reach young voters. But in a society like Japan, where the population skews older, it’s a differentiating point for ambitious politicians like Takaichi.
Noboru Kinoshita, Takaichi’s secretary, says, “Young people are using social media, and I find that attractive.” “That’s where we focus our efforts.”
And it seems to be working.
Mr. Takaichi’s approval rating is surprisingly high, with some opinion polls showing it ranging from over 50% to over 80% among people in their 20s, a level not seen in recent years, and a level that has been the envy of recent prime ministers.
The contrast with her party could not be more stark. The Liberal Democratic Party has been burdened for years by electoral defeats, stubborn inflation and political scandals, which have eroded public trust even as the new leader’s popularity soars.
Kinoshita has known Takaichi for more than 30 years, and believes that Takaichi’s appeal lies in her communication style, explaining how he personally prepares responses to Congressional budget hearings. “She explains policies in an easy-to-understand manner in her own words,” he said.
The strategy is familiar. Charismatic leaders who mobilize young voters are also reshaping politics elsewhere. Voter turnout among young people is generally low in Japan, but Takaichi’s rise has brought rare excitement to a demographic long disillusioned with national politics.
However, Takaichi is also popular among older voters.
Satoshi Uchiyama, who volunteered to hand out election leaflets at the rally, praised Takaichi’s strong stance on defense, which he considers a national priority amid geopolitical uncertainty.
“Ever since Japan lost the war, we have an aversion to having an army and having military power. But now we have issues like China, North Korea and Russia, which I think is very worrying for us as a people,” he said.
Mr. Takaichi has long been a conservative and is closely aligned with nationalist and traditionalist causes.
A prominent member of the ultra-nationalist Nippon Kaigi lobby, she has supported patriotic education and advocated amending Japan’s pacifist constitution, including Article 9, which renounces war.
“From their perspective, the LDP has become too moderate under the last two prime ministers,” said Rintaro Nishimura, a senior associate at consulting firm Asia Group in Tokyo.
However, the direction of her policy remains unclear. She proposed an 8% sales tax cut on groceries, a proposal that quickly drew criticism from economists and was later removed from her campaign speech.
Tensions with China, Japan’s most important trading partner, remain looming after comments in November that a Chinese invasion of Taiwan could trigger a military response from Japan, while comments suggesting an open stance on increased government spending and tolerance for a weaker yen have destabilized markets.
Hajime Kidera, a professor at the Faculty of Political Science and Economics at Meiji University, said, “The full effect of Mr. Takaichi’s remarks… has not yet been felt.” “However, as she does so, more people may begin to question whether it is really okay to entrust Japan’s economy to her leadership.”
So far, these doubts have had little impact on her position. As voters head to the polls on Sunday, Takaichi is betting that his carefully cultivated popularity will be enough to give his party a majority and buy time until the next election in 2027.
By then, voters will have years, not months, to decide whether her leadership is based on substance and not just star power.
