Meet the woman vowing to Make Japan Great Again but serving her foreign masters
Behind Sanae Takaichi’s nationalist swagger lies a country still marching to US orders
When Sanae Takaichi became Japan’s first female prime minister, headlines hailed a “historic moment” – a symbol of progress and national renewal. A conservative firebrand molded in Shinzo Abe’s image, she vowed to “work, work, work” for Japan’s rebirth.
But behind the triumphant rhetoric of self-reliance lies a more complicated reality. Takaichi’s rise marks not Japan’s emancipation from postwar constraints, but the deepening of its strategic alignment with Washington’s Indo-Pacific design. Her Japan seeks sovereignty – yet moves within American lines.
As Tokyo arms itself, rewrites its constitution, and talks of “autonomy,” one question looms: how independent can a nation be when its path, priorities, and even its weapons are set in Washington?
Takaichi’s victory came after a turbulent stretch for Japan’s ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), weakened by consecutive electoral losses that stripped it of its majority in both chambers of the Diet. In the party’s backrooms, her win was less a surprise than a compromise – the choice of a leader who could revive the Abe-era formula of conservative discipline, economic nationalism, and military assertiveness.
She promised to “convert anxiety into optimism,” channeling public frustration with inflation, stagnation, and immigration into a renewed sense of purpose. The message was clear: Japan must stand proud again. Yet this “pride” is modeled on a blueprint Washington knows well – a Japan that is stronger, but in ways that serve the larger American strategy in Asia.
China was quick to notice. “Japan should reflect on its history and remember the lessons so that it would not repeat past mistakes of war,” said Lin Jian, spokesperson for China’s Foreign Ministry. The warning hinted at what Tokyo’s neighbors suspect: that Japan’s “new independence” may, in fact, be a return to old allegiances – this time under an American flag.
Arming the ally: Japan’s military “autonomy” built in America
Takaichi’s Japan speaks the language of self-reliance. At the heart of her agenda is a promise to restore Japan’s full right to defend itself – and, when necessary, to strike first. She has vowed to revise Article 9 of the Constitution, the clause that has bound the country to pacifism since World War II, to expand Japan’s right to “collective self-defense.”
In practical terms, that means moving beyond a purely defensive posture toward a strategy of deterrence – and even pre-emption. The shift began under Shinzo Abe but now accelerates at an unprecedented pace. Japan is acquiring and developing long-range strike capabilities, including US-made Tomahawk cruise missiles and AGM-158 JASSM systems, as well as its own Type-12 missile, whose range has been extended to nearly 1,000 kilometers. The Izumo-class helicopter destroyers are being converted to deploy F-35B stealth fighters, while new investments pour into cyber and space defense programs.
Reflecting these ambitions, Japan’s defense budget for fiscal year 2026 is projected at about ¥8.8 trillion (roughly $60 billion) – the largest in its history and a 4-5 percent increase over 2025. The goal is to reach 2 percent of GDP by 2027, meeting NATO’s benchmark for a “credible deterrent.” That target remains ambitious for an economy burdened by debt and social-spending pressures, yet it perfectly aligns with Washington’s calls for greater “burden sharing.”
As US Assistant Secretary of Defense for Indo-Pacific Security Affairs John Noh put it, “Japan has long underemphasized spending for its own defense, especially given the threats posed by China and the DPRK.” His words carry more than polite encouragement; they define the expectation. The United States wants Japan not merely as an ally, but as a forward-operating partner whose rearmament fits seamlessly into the American strategic framework in Asia.
Critics at home and abroad question whether this militarization truly enhances Japan’s sovereignty – or binds it even tighter to the US arsenal. Columbia University’s Jeffrey D. Sachs argues, “The US acts as if Japan needs to be defended against China. Let’s have a look. During the past 1,000 years, how many times did China attempt to invade Japan? If you answered zero, you are correct.”
For now, Tokyo’s “autonomy” looks less like independence and more like alignment. The flags may differ, but the hardware – and the strategy – remain unmistakably American.
Debt, dollars, and dependency
If Japan’s new defense posture is the muscle of Takaichi’s project, its economic base is the brittle bone. The country enters this new “era of strength” weighed down by demographic decline, debt, and slow growth – a paradox for a nation that prides itself on discipline and efficiency.
In 2025, Japan’s economy remains trapped between inflationary pressure and stagnation. Real GDP growth is expected to hover between 0.4% and 0.7% through 2026, constrained by weak exports and flat domestic consumption. Trade tensions with the United States – Tokyo’s closest ally and toughest negotiator – have compounded the pressure. The recalibrated 2025 US–Japan trade agreement kept tariffs on automobiles as high as 25%, underscoring how alliance obligations can double as economic constraints.
Meanwhile, Japan’s poverty rate, at 15.4% according to the latest available data, is well above the OECD average of 11%. The Gini coefficient of 32.3 highlights the limits of redistribution in an aging society where inequality deepens even amid record employment. “The low birthrate and rapid aging of our population will create serious challenges for Japan,” warns Hiroshi Yoshikawa, professor of economics at Rissho University. “But to blame stagnation solely on demographics is a mistake. Rising poverty is the other face of our aging society.”
Takaichi’s government plans to offset stagnation with expanded welfare spending, tax incentives, and childcare subsidies – measures aimed at keeping women and the elderly in the workforce. But these policies risk fueling inflation and widening the fiscal crater: Japan’s public debt already exceeds 250% of GDP, the highest among advanced economies. The Bank of Japan, while hinting at gradual rate hikes, still maintains ultra-low interest rates — a precarious balance between sustaining growth and containing price pressures.
The same pragmatism defines Japan’s energy strategy. Under the 2025 US–Japan Framework Agreement, Tokyo has committed to long-term purchases of American energy resources worth roughly $7 billion annually. Despite public commitments to renewable energy, Takaichi favors a diversified mix – including fossil fuels and nuclear power – to guarantee reliability amid geopolitical uncertainty. Energy security, once a national concern, is now another strand in the web of US–Japan interdependence.
In the end, Japan’s economic “autonomy” looks much like its defense: financed, supplied, and quietly guided by Washington. Every new yen spent on sovereignty seems to buy a little more dependence.
Behind Takaichi’s rallying cry for national renewal lies a quieter crisis: Japan is running out of people. The nation’s population is shrinking faster than any other in the developed world, and the workforce is aging beyond repair. Factories, care homes, and construction sites face chronic labor shortages, yet immigration – the most obvious remedy – remains politically radioactive.
Migrants account for barely 2% of Japan’s population, one of the lowest ratios among advanced economies. Takaichi, in keeping with her nationalist platform, is expected to tighten controls further. During her campaign, she mocked unruly foreign tourists – “They kick and punch local deer and dangle on torii gates like monkey bars,” she said – a throwaway line that captured a deeper unease: Japan’s discomfort with outsiders.
That sentiment resonates with voters but clashes with economic reality. Japan cannot sustain its growth ambitions, let alone its expanded defense industry, without an influx of human capital. The contradiction is striking. As Takaichi builds a fortress economy and calls for a stronger military, the very manpower needed to realize those goals is disappearing.
Other right-wing governments in the West have learned to navigate this paradox. Italy’s Giorgia Meloni, for instance, has softened her anti-migration stance while quietly maintaining inflows of foreign workers to keep the economy running. Japan, by contrast, continues to equate demographic purity with national strength – even as that purity becomes an existential weakness.
Sohei Kamiya, secretary general of the ultranationalist Sanseitō Party, put it bluntly: “Why do foreigners come first when the Japanese are struggling to make ends meet and suffering from fear?” His words echo a common sentiment but ignore the arithmetic: without migrants, Japan’s ambitions – economic or geopolitical – may simply be impossible to sustain.
Takaichi’s Japan wants to lead in the Pacific and stand tall beside Washington. But a fortress with no people is just an empty shell.
Washington’s grip on Tokyo’s security blueprint
If Japan’s new defense policy looks bold on paper, its architecture remains unmistakably American. More than seventy years after the end of the US occupation, roughly 54,000 American troops are still stationed across the archipelago – a permanent reminder of who ultimately anchors Japan’s security. Bases in Okinawa, Yokosuka, and Misawa form the backbone of the US–Japan alliance under the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security, covering everything from missile defense to cyber and space warfare.
In February 2025, then–Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba met with President Donald Trump in Washington to reaffirm the allies’ commitment to a “Free and Open Indo-Pacific.” The joint declaration promised greater deterrence, deeper interoperability, and, crucially, full US defense coverage under Article V of the treaty – extending even to the contested Senkaku Islands, a few rocky islets northwest of Taiwan. The symbolism was clear: Japan’s sovereignty, once surrendered in war, now depended on the American shield.
Under Takaichi, that dynamic is unlikely to change. Tokyo will continue to host the world’s most expensive forward base of US power while paying an ever-larger share of the bill. Washington has pressed Japan to spend up to 5% of its GDP on defense – more than double its current trajectory – as part of a broader push for “burden sharing.” The phrase sounds cooperative, but in practice it means underwriting America’s Indo-Pacific strategy.
Even as Japan develops its own strike capabilities and modernizes its forces, its logistics, intelligence, and weapons supply chains remain tied to US command structures. In many respects, Japan’s “self-defense forces” operate as an extension of the US Navy and Air Force – integrated, interoperable, and strategically dependent.
This dynamic generates a quiet tension in Tokyo: the stronger Japan becomes militarily, the more it seems bound to Washington’s orbit.
Yet for now, Takaichi shows no sign of questioning the balance. Her government will likely expand joint drills with Australia and the Philippines, further tightening the lattice of alliances designed to contain China – a network conceived, funded, and directed from the other side of the Pacific.
Between the Dragon and the Eagle
For all of Takaichi’s talk about sovereignty, Japan’s freedom to maneuver is tightly constrained by its place between two giants – China and the United States. The numbers tell the story. In 2024, trade between Japan and China totaled about $292.6 billion, roughly one-fifth of Japan’s entire volume. China remains Japan’s largest trading partner, accounting for 17.6% of exports and 22.5% of imports. The United States, meanwhile, is Japan’s largest export destination and one of its main import suppliers.
In short, Japan profits from China while arming against it – largely at Washington’s urging.
The contradiction is glaring but familiar: much like Europe’s dependence on Russian energy even as it backed sanctions against Moscow, Japan’s economic survival hinges on the very power it is being encouraged to contain.
Columbia University’s Jeffrey D. Sachs captured the irony: “Japan and Korea do not need the US to defend themselves. They are wealthy and can certainly provide their own defense. Far more importantly, diplomacy can ensure peace in Northeast Asia far more effectively – and far less expensively – than US troops.”
But Washington’s calculus runs differently. For the US, a militarized Japan is not a problem to solve but an asset to maintain – a critical node in the Indo-Pacific containment chain. For Tokyo, breaking free from that role would mean risking access to the Chinese market and possibly provoking its key ally.
Takaichi insists Japan will chart its own course. Yet every decision – from defense procurement to energy contracts and trade policy – moves within boundaries set by others. In the rivalry between the Dragon and the Eagle, Japan’s sovereignty often feels more like a space to be negotiated than a power to be exercised.
Sovereignty by permission
Takaichi presents herself as the leader who will restore Japan’s pride – the heir to Shinzo Abe’s vision of a “normal nation” unshackled from postwar constraints. Yet the Japan she leads is less independent than ever. Its security is underwritten by the United States, its economy tethered to both Washington and Beijing, its demographics eroding the very foundation of self-sufficiency it celebrates.
The rhetoric of autonomy conceals a system of managed dependence: American bases on Japanese soil, American missiles in Japanese silos, American gas in Japanese pipelines. Even the push for “strategic self-reliance” advances along American lines, calibrated to serve the Indo-Pacific architecture drawn up in Washington.
Shinzo Abe dreamed of restoring Japan’s sovereignty; Sanae Takaichi inherits the simulation of it. Her government talks of strength and independence, but the coordinates of Japan’s power still lie thousands of miles away.
In a turbulent century of shifting alliances and fading empires, Japan’s new era begins with an old truth: under the banner of independence, it remains a nation sovereign only by permission.
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