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Populism and polarisation come to Japan

Populism and Polarisation Come to Japan

In the shadow of Tokyo's gleaming skyscrapers, a quiet revolution is stirring. Japan, long admired for its political stability and consensus-driven governance, is witnessing the emergence of populism and deepening polarisation. This shift, accelerated by economic frustrations, demographic pressures, and global uncertainties, marks a departure from the post-war era of one-party dominance under the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP). As the country grapples with these changes, the implications for its democracy, economy, and international standing are profound.

For decades, Japan's political landscape has been defined by the LDP's hegemony. Since its founding in 1955, the party has governed almost uninterruptedly, fostering a system where policy debates were often subdued, compromises were the norm, and radical ideologies found little fertile ground. This stability was underpinned by rapid economic growth in the mid-20th century, which lifted millions into prosperity and created a broad middle class. Even during the "lost decades" of stagnation following the 1990s asset bubble burst, the LDP maintained control through pork-barrel politics, clientelism, and a fragmented opposition.

But cracks are now widening. The catalyst? A confluence of crises that have eroded public trust in the establishment. Chief among them is Japan's demographic time bomb: an ageing population and shrinking workforce. By 2025, over 28% of Japanese are 65 or older, straining pension systems, healthcare, and economic productivity. Birth rates hover at a dismal 1.3 per woman, far below replacement levels. Immigration, once a taboo subject, has become a flashpoint. The government's tentative steps to admit more foreign workers—reaching 2 million in recent years—have sparked backlash from those fearing cultural dilution and job competition.

Enter populism. Figures like Taro Yamamoto, the firebrand leader of the Reiwa Shinsengumi party, embody this trend. Yamamoto, a former actor turned politician, rails against the elite, promising radical reforms such as scrapping consumption taxes for essentials and boosting welfare spending. His rhetoric resonates with younger voters disillusioned by stagnant wages and precarious employment. In the 2022 upper-house elections, his party doubled its seats, signaling a growing appetite for anti-establishment voices. Similarly, the Japan Innovation Party (Ishin no Kai), based in Osaka, has gained traction with its calls for slashing bureaucracy and decentralising power, appealing to urban voters frustrated with Tokyo-centric policies.

Polarisation is amplifying these populist surges. Traditionally, Japanese politics avoided the sharp ideological divides seen in the West. But issues like constitutional revision—particularly Article 9, which renounces war—are now battlegrounds. Prime Minister Fumio Kishida's LDP pushes for a more assertive military posture amid threats from China and North Korea, including increased defence spending to 2% of GDP by 2027. This alarms pacifists and left-leaning groups, who see it as a slippery slope to remilitarisation. Protests in Tokyo and Okinawa, where American bases are a sore point, have turned heated, with clashes between nationalists waving the Rising Sun flag and activists decrying imperialism.

Economic inequality further fuels division. Japan's Gini coefficient, a measure of income disparity, has risen modestly but noticeably, from 0.33 in the 1990s to around 0.37 today. The gig economy, epitomised by platforms like Uber Eats, employs millions in low-wage, unstable jobs. Rural areas, depopulated and economically hollowed out, breed resentment toward urban elites. In places like Tohoku, hit hard by the 2011 tsunami and nuclear disaster, voters are turning to populist candidates who promise infrastructure revival and protectionism against cheap imports.

Social media has supercharged this polarisation. Platforms like Twitter (now X) and Line amplify echo chambers, where conspiracy theories about government cover-ups—such as alleged mishandling of the covid-19 pandemic—spread rapidly. A 2024 survey by the Pew Research Centre found that 45% of Japanese under 30 believe the political system is rigged in favour of the powerful, up from 30% a decade ago. Fake news, including claims of electoral fraud in LDP strongholds, erodes faith in institutions. This digital divide mirrors global trends, from America's MAGA movement to Europe's far-right surges, but in Japan, it's tempered by cultural norms of harmony—yet increasingly strained.

The LDP is not immune. Internal scandals, including slush-fund revelations in 2023 that forced cabinet reshuffles, have tarnished its image. Kishida's approval ratings dipped below 30% in early 2025, prompting calls for snap elections. Opposition parties, once dismissed as ineffective, are coalescing. The Constitutional Democratic Party of Japan (CDPJ), the main centre-left force, has hardened its stance against LDP policies, accusing them of cronyism. Meanwhile, right-wing populists like those in the Sanseito party advocate for stricter immigration controls and a return to "traditional values," tapping into anxieties over gender roles and family decline.

This polarisation manifests in policy gridlock. Debates over energy security, post-Fukushima, pit nuclear advocates against renewables proponents. Climate change, with Japan vulnerable to typhoons and rising seas, adds urgency, yet populist voices decry green regulations as burdensome. Foreign policy is another rift: while the LDP strengthens ties with America and joins initiatives like the Quad, critics on the left warn of entanglement in great-power rivalries, and nationalists push for even bolder independence.

What does this mean for Japan? Economically, populism could lead to short-termist policies, like excessive stimulus or protectionism, exacerbating debt levels already at 250% of GDP. Politically, a fragmented Diet might hinder decisive action on reforms needed for growth, such as labour market liberalisation or tech innovation. Internationally, a polarised Japan could waver in its alliances, complicating responses to regional tensions in the South China Sea or Korean Peninsula.

Yet, there are silver linings. Populism might invigorate democracy by engaging apathetic voters—turnout in the 2022 election hit 55%, the highest in years. It could force the LDP to adapt, perhaps by addressing inequality more aggressively. Civil society is responding too: groups like the Japan Civil Liberties Union are promoting dialogue to bridge divides.

Still, the road ahead is uncertain. As Japan approaches its next general election, possibly in late 2025, the spectre of deeper polarisation looms. Will it emulate the stable evolution of Scandinavian social democracies, or descend into the acrimony of American or Brazilian politics? For a nation that prides itself on wa (harmony), the rise of populism tests the limits of consensus. If unmanaged, it could reshape Japan in ways that echo the turbulent pre-war era, but with modern twists. Observers watch closely, for Japan's experiment with division may offer lessons—or warnings—for the world.

In Tokyo's bustling streets, where salarymen hurry past protest placards, the old order frays. Populists promise change, but at what cost? The answer will define Japan's future. (Word count: 1,028)

Read the Full The Economist Article at:
[ https://www.economist.com/asia/2025/07/21/populism-and-polarisation-come-to-japan ]