Sanae Takaichi has just shattered one of Japan’s most enduring political barriers. On October 4, 2025, the 64-year-old conservative lawmaker was elected leader of the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), securing 185 out of 341 votes from party parliamentarians and members, according to NHK. This landmark victory positions her to become Japan’s first female Prime Minister once parliament—known as the Diet—confirms her appointment on October 15. But while her ascent is historic, it’s stirring as much debate as celebration, both for what it represents and what it might not change.
Takaichi’s win comes at a turbulent time for the LDP. The party, which has dominated Japanese politics since 1955, recently lost its majority in both chambers of parliament for the first time in 70 years. The catalyst? A string of political scandals and two successive election defeats under outgoing Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba, who resigned in September 2025. The LDP now governs with a minority coalition, facing growing pressure from both the left and a resurgent far-right Sanseito party, which has siphoned away conservative voters with a "Japanese First" agenda, as reported by BBC News.
For Takaichi, the road to the top wasn’t exactly smooth. She first ran for LDP leadership in 2021, losing to Fumio Kishida, and tried again in 2024, narrowly missing out to Ishiba despite leading the first round of voting. This year, she finally clinched victory, defeating younger rival Shinjiro Koizumi, the 44-year-old son of a former premier, and the more experienced but less charismatic Yoshimasa Hayashi. "Instead of just celebrating, I know the real challenge starts now," Takaichi said after the vote. "I believe there is a mountain of work ahead and we must tackle it together with everyone's support. With all of you, I will strive to fire up the LDP and make it a positive party, which turns people's anxieties into hope." (TIME)
Her personal story is as unconventional as her rise. Born in Nara Prefecture in 1961 to a manufacturing worker and a police officer, Takaichi’s early life was far removed from the political elite. Before entering politics, she played drums in a heavy metal band (breaking sticks with her intensity), scuba dived, and even worked briefly as a TV presenter. Her political awakening came during the 1980s, amid fierce US-Japan trade tensions. Determined to understand American views on Japan, she worked in the office of US Congresswoman Patricia Schroeder, a noted critic of Japan, and observed firsthand how Japan was often lumped together with China and Korea in American discourse. "Unless Japan can defend itself, its fate will always be at the mercy of shallow US opinion," she later reflected (BBC News).
Takaichi’s political career began in earnest in 1993, when she won a seat in parliament as an independent. She joined the LDP three years later and has since been reelected ten times, only losing once. Over the decades, she’s built a reputation as one of the party’s most outspoken conservatives—a protégé of the late Shinzo Abe, whose economic policies she vows to revive. She’s held a slew of senior government roles, including minister for economic security, internal affairs, communications, and gender equality.
Her style has drawn frequent comparisons to Margaret Thatcher, the UK’s "Iron Lady." Takaichi herself has embraced the moniker, telling school children during her campaign, "My goal is to become the Iron Lady." Yet, her approach to gender and social issues is anything but progressive. Japan ranks 118th out of 148 countries in the World Economic Forum’s 2025 Global Gender Gap Report—the lowest among G-7 nations—due largely to the underrepresentation of women in government. Only about 15% of Japan’s lower house is female, and just two of the country’s 47 prefectural governors are women (ABC News).
Despite this, Takaichi has consistently opposed reforms that might advance women’s rights. She remains a vocal opponent of changing the 19th-century law requiring married couples to share the same surname—a rule that overwhelmingly forces women to take their husband’s name. She’s also against same-sex marriage and has repeatedly defended traditional family values, arguing that dual-surname laws "may destroy the social structure based on family units." Yet, in a twist of personal irony, Takaichi herself uses her maiden name, even after remarrying her husband, fellow lawmaker Taku Takaichi, who took her surname after their divorce and remarriage (TIME).
Still, her 2025 campaign saw a subtle shift. For the first time, she openly touted her status as a female candidate and promised to boost female representation in her Cabinet and LDP executive committee to "Nordic" levels—an allusion to the gender parity seen in countries like Iceland, Finland, and Norway, which top the Global Gender Gap rankings. She also proposed partial tax deductions for babysitting fees and corporate tax incentives for companies offering in-house childcare. As she put it, "I want to create a society where people don't have to give up their careers." (BBC News)
Yet, many analysts remain skeptical. "She doesn’t have a very positive track record on gender issues, on family-friendly policies, women’s empowerment," Jeff Kingston, a professor of Asian studies at Temple University’s Tokyo campus, told TIME. Sadafumi Kawato, professor emeritus at the University of Tokyo, added, "Her election would be a step forward for women's participation in politics but she has shown little inclination to fight against patriarchal norms." Even Hiroko Takeda of Nagoya University noted that Takaichi’s recent promises could be more about electoral strategy than genuine conviction: "Maybe she’s had a moment to reflect on her past and decided she’s going to reinvent herself, but when people are suddenly making these changes during the campaign, one could be skeptical."
Takaichi’s conservatism extends beyond gender issues. She is a frequent visitor to the controversial Yasukuni Shrine, which honors Japan’s war dead—including convicted war criminals—a move that has repeatedly angered China and South Korea and could complicate diplomatic relations. She has called for easing constitutional restrictions on Japan’s Self-Defence Forces, currently forbidden from having offensive capabilities, and has voiced concerns about crime and the economic influence of foreigners, advocating for stricter immigration rules to win back voters from nationalist parties (ABC News, BBC News).
Economically, she’s a staunch supporter of "Abenomics," favoring aggressive monetary easing and high public spending to revive Japan’s sluggish economy. She’s also indicated a willingness to renegotiate tariffs with the US if existing deals are deemed unfair to Japan. On the social front, she’s acknowledged her own struggles with menopausal symptoms and called for greater education on female health, as well as financial support for fertility treatments—though always within the framework of traditional roles for women as mothers and wives.
Her work ethic is legendary, if a bit daunting. Takaichi describes herself as a workaholic who prefers studying at home to socializing. After her victory, she told party members, "I will abandon the word 'work-life balance.' I will work, work, work and work," a declaration that drew both admiration and concern on social media (ABC News).
As Japan faces a demographic crisis, economic headwinds, and rising geopolitical tensions, the LDP is betting that Takaichi’s blend of experience, discipline, and conservative credentials can restore its fortunes. Whether her leadership will bring real change—especially for Japanese women—remains to be seen. For now, the glass ceiling has been cracked, but the foundation beneath it may be as unyielding as ever.
