Japan stands on the verge of a historic political milestone as Sanae Takaichi, a 64-year-old veteran of the country’s ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), becomes the first woman to lead the party—and, almost certainly, the nation as its next prime minister. Her election on October 4, 2025, marks a rare breakthrough in a country that, as reported by the Associated Press, continues to rank poorly for gender equality. Yet, in a twist that has left some international observers scratching their heads, the reaction at home has been surprisingly muted.
In the days following Takaichi’s election as party president—a role that typically brings with it the premiership, pending formal confirmation by the Diet—Japanese news outlets gave the story little more than a passing mention. As The Guardian noted, the prospect of Japan’s first female leader was eclipsed in news bulletins by a looming shortage of Asahi beer and the continued exploits of baseball star Shohei Ohtani. There was little fanfare, and even less visible excitement among the public or feminist circles. Why the collective shrug?
Part of the answer lies in the unexpected nature of Takaichi’s victory. For weeks, the smart money had been on agriculture minister Shinjiro Koizumi, son of former prime minister Junichiro Koizumi, to take the LDP’s top job. But a scandal involving Koizumi’s campaign—his team was caught orchestrating a flood of flattering online comments about their candidate while disparaging Takaichi—turned the tide. As The Guardian put it, this “tawdry cronyism” may have soured lawmakers on Koizumi, handing Takaichi a win that was, in some eyes, a victory by default.
But it’s the woman herself who has perhaps most shaped the subdued mood. Takaichi, a former minister of economic security, internal affairs, and gender equality, is known for her arch-conservative views and her admiration of Margaret Thatcher. She is a staunch supporter of former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s vision for Japan—a vision that emphasizes traditional family values, a strong military, and a tough stance on immigration. According to The Guardian, she favors revising Japan’s pacifist constitution, opposes same-sex marriage, and resists calls for the country to endlessly apologize for its wartime past.
“Now that the LDP has its first female president, its scenery will change a little,” Takaichi remarked after her victory, as quoted by the Associated Press. Yet, she made little mention of gender issues during her campaign, and her approach to women’s advancement has been anything but radical. Female lawmakers in the LDP have historically found themselves sidelined if they pushed too hard for diversity, and Takaichi has largely avoided such confrontations. Instead, she’s embraced the party’s traditionalist ethos, backing financial support for women’s health and fertility treatment—but within the framework of women as “good mothers and wives.”
Still, Takaichi has not ignored the realities of women’s health. She recently acknowledged her own struggles with menopausal symptoms and stressed the need to educate men about female health issues, both at school and in the workplace. But when it comes to broader questions of gender equality, she remains firmly in the conservative camp. She supports the imperial family’s male-only succession, opposes allowing married couples to keep separate surnames, and has promised to “work, work, work and work,” pointedly abandoning the notion of “work-life balance.” Her declaration that she would “abandon the word ‘work-life balance’” quickly trended on social media, sparking both support for her dedication and concern about her work ethic.
Japan’s political landscape remains overwhelmingly male. Women comprise only about 15% of the lower house—the more powerful of the two parliamentary chambers—and just two of the country’s 47 prefectural governors are women. The outgoing prime minister’s cabinet included only two women. Takaichi has vowed to drastically increase the number of female ministers in her government, though experts caution that her rise may paradoxically set back women’s advancement, as she will need to demonstrate loyalty to powerful male party heavyweights to maintain her position. If she fails to do so, her leadership could be short-lived.
Professor Jeff Kingston of Temple University told The Guardian that Takaichi’s “strong conservative, family and social values emphasis” makes her quietly admired by conservatives, but unlikely to inspire progressives or those who have long railed against Japan’s gender inequalities. In her own words, Takaichi has said that being a woman in the LDP today is “totally different” from when she entered politics three decades ago, likening her early days to “an ant up against an elephant.” Still, as The Guardian observed, attitudes may have shifted, but participation has not: few Japanese women aspire to be politicians, and the job is widely seen as unrewarding and powerless.
Takaichi’s policy priorities extend well beyond gender. She is a proponent of increased fiscal spending for economic growth, the promotion of nuclear fusion, enhanced cybersecurity, and tougher immigration policies. She is also a wartime history revisionist and a self-described China hawk, making regular visits to the controversial Yasukuni Shrine—a move that, according to the Associated Press, could further complicate Japan’s already fraught relations with Beijing and Seoul. Her hawkish stance also poses challenges for the LDP’s coalition with Komeito, a Buddhist-backed moderate party, though Takaichi has indicated the coalition remains crucial while also expressing openness to working with far-right groups.
Yet, Takaichi’s ascent comes at a time of deep uncertainty for Japan. She will lead a minority government in a country facing what many see as existential challenges: an aging society, a record-low birthrate, and a colossal public debt. These are problems that, as The Guardian notes, may be beyond the capacity of any leader—male or female—to solve. No wonder, then, that the Japanese public’s response to Takaichi’s historic rise has been so subdued.
For all the symbolic significance of her election, Takaichi’s leadership may ultimately be defined less by her gender than by her ability to navigate the treacherous waters of Japanese politics and address the daunting issues facing the nation. Whether she will be remembered as a trailblazer or as a caretaker for the status quo remains to be seen, but for now, Japan watches—and waits.
