Don't Be Fooled by A Shattered Glass Ceiling

Japan now has its first woman prime minister, and the old boys' club couldn't be more pleased.

Credit: Wikimedia Commons

When the ruling Liberal Democratic Party elevated Sanae Takaichi to its presidency on October 6, global headlines celebrated a historic moment for gender representation. The New York Times called it a "landmark." CNN described it as "breaking barriers." What these reports glossed over is that Takaichi rejects same-sex marriage, dual surnames for married couples, and female ascendancy to the Chrysanthemum Throne. She opposes laws that would let married women keep their surnames despite using her maiden name professionally. Her femininity doesn’t do anything to challenge Japan’s political order. It makes it unassailable.

During her campaign, Takaichi promised "Nordic levels" of female representation in cabinet: between 36% and 61%. But her 19-person cabinet in fact has only two women. That’s 10.5% female representation, the same ratio as her predecessor’s cabinet. When pressed, she blamed a shortage of qualified women, though Japan allows non-politicians to head ministries. And yet her deception is working. Her approval rating has climbed to 64.4%, compared to Kishida's 55.7%, though her policies remain similar to his.

The real story is what her gender helps obscure. The LDP's dilapidated coalition with Komeito, a Buddhist-aligned party that moderated nationalist impulses, has buckled. Its replacement, the Japan Innovation Party, shares the LDP's hawkish foreign policy and disdain for progressive reform. Komeito historically curbed constitutional revision and subsequent military expansion; the Japan Innovation Party has no such qualms. After years of corruption scandals and voter apathy, particularly among young voters convinced Japanese democracy is pure theater, the LDP needed to project renewal without actual change. Takaichi's gender creates the appearance of disruption to the status quo even as her politics guarantee continuity.

The United States has long wanted Japan to rearm and to strengthen its role along the first island chain as a counterweight to China’s expanding presence, but Japanese leaders who tried found themselves in an awkward position. When Shinzo Abe pursued constitutional revision and a more assertive security posture, his efforts aligned with American strategic goals. But they unsettled U.S. officials wary of Abe’s nationalist rhetoric and historical revisionism. During the Trump years, the U.S. Embassy and State Department had to calibrate their language to affirm alliance solidarity while distancing Washington from Abe's domestic agenda. What makes Takaichi valuable is that her position as Japan's first female leader softens the ideological edge of policies once viewed as provocative. With a strengthening of relations, both leaders get what they want: Trump secured an anti-China ally that’s rapidly militarizing and investing massively in American infrastructure; Takaichi, whose coalition is two votes short of a majority, gained the American endorsement necessary to bolster her domestic legitimacy.

If the G-7 celebrates her "modern leadership," they're endorsing illiberalism made palatable. Unlike Orbán or Meloni, who attack liberal institutions openly, Takaichi makes ethnic homogeneity, gender traditionalism, and nationalist mythology appear compatible with democracy. Her success demonstrates that democracies can exclude minorities, constrain women, and cultivate nationalist identity without triggering the kinds of alarm bells which populist movements set off. Because Japan's strategic value to Washington is immense, her government will enjoy immunity from the scrutiny other illiberal democracies face.

There's a pattern here: identity representation now functions as insulation for conservative governance. A woman leads while women's representation stalls. A coalition shifts right while claiming democratic renewal. Militarization proceeds under the banner of feminist achievement. The old boys' club has learned that the most effective defense isn't keeping women out but letting one woman in, making sure she governs like her predecessors, and then pointing to her presence as proof the system has evolved.

If Western democracies celebrate Takaichi’s ascension as progress, they're validating a model where symbolic firsts substitute for substantive change. Other conservative movements are paying attention. Takaichi looks like the future while governing from the past. We risk applauding while the walls close in.