In one day, Japanese voters transformed the politics of the land. What still appeared as a low probability scenario a few weeks ago—the ruling coalition losing its majority in the Lower House election of October 27—became an indelible reality. The Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), Japan’s historically dominant political force, and its long-term coalition ally, the Komeito party, were clobbered in the polls. Their combined seats shrank from 279 to 215, coming short of the required 233-seat threshold to control the Lower House. The LDP has not experienced such a drubbing since it lost power in 2009, nor since then has Japanese politics appeared as fluid and open-ended as it does today.
The public’s discontent with politics as usual is certainly not new. Dissatisfied with the government’s inability to revitalize the economy and bring sufficient relief to households experiencing the pains of inflation, the Japanese public has also been profoundly skeptical that the party could discipline itself and eradicate money politics. Such disenchantment doomed Prime Minister Fumio Kishida’s chances of holding onto power. After a divisive internal vote last September, the party selected Ishiba Shigeru out of the belief that his public appeal (he has consistently been the most popular among would-be prime ministers in opinion polls) could be the party’s saving grace.
With the benefit of hindsight, this bet was completely misjudged. However, the October shellacking was nevertheless surprising because two past indicators of LDP electoral vulnerability were missing this time. First, turnout was lackluster. In the past, high turnout rates have spelled trouble for the establishment, since the mobilization of a much larger number of independent voters undercuts the clout of the organized vote which leans heavily toward LDP and Komeito. Second, the opposition parties did not coordinate. In previous elections, effective coordination among non-LDP parties has prevented the fragmentation of the opposition vote in single-member districts.
But this was not an election of voter enthusiasm. In fact, voter turnout was low at 53.85%, with a significant share of the electorate opting to skip the ballot box. Nor was it defined by electoral alliances among opposition parties. On the contrary, the largest opposition party, the Constitutional Democratic Party (CDP)—under the helm of former Prime Minister Noda Yoshihiko—eschewed the past electoral cooperation with the Japan Communist Party. The CDP won handsomely this election, growing its seats from 98 to 148, but it did so while competing with multiple opposition party tickets in single districts, and without generating an electoral wave or capturing a larger share of independent voters.
Why was this election different?
At least three elements stand out in accounting for the dramatic electoral result:
- Ishiba’s credentials as a change agent were ephemeral. Ishiba’s appeal had hinged on his willingness to be a candid critic of his own party, his empathy for rural communities, and the fact that he had emerged relatively unscathed from the political funds scandal. But he rapidly burned his reformer credentials. As his positions on monetary normalization, interest rates, and foreign policy were hard to pinpoint, confusion ensued. He backpedaled on the issue of dual last names in a household—a key issue for gender equality in Japan. Despite an earlier promise, he called for a snap election days after assuming office and his decision to withdraw the nomination from 12 politicians tainted by scandal looked hollow when news media reported party funds were transferred to many of these politicians’ local chapters.
- A weaker base. Traditionally a party of factions, the biggest threat to LDP rule has been defection. In the past, these episodes of party disunity had the feel of palace intrigue as powerful party bosses threatened to leave the party. When, on occasion, they followed through, the price could be heavy (for instance, the LDP lost power—albeit briefly—in 1993). In this election, however, the bigger realized threat was bottom-up defection. Simply put, the party lost a significant share of its base with only 69.7% of party supporters voting for the LDP.
- Middle-of-the-road options. The big winners of Sunday’s contest were centrist parties. Not only the CDP as already noted but also the center-right Democratic Party for the People which quadrupled its seats to 28 and the center-left Reiwa Shinsengumi which tripled its seats to nine. While Japan is experiencing political disruption, it is not the populist kind. Far-right-wing parties increased their seats from one to four, but are still a marginal force in the Diet, and on the left, the Communists lost seats. Rather, the Japanese public has put the ruling coalition on notice that it is prepared to test the waters with other middle-of-the-road alternatives. This signals that the psychological barrier of voting in the opposition, developed since the unsuccessful 2009-2012 stint in office of the CDP’s predecessor (the Democratic Party of Japan), may be breaking down.
What comes next?
The next few days and weeks are uncharted territory. The Diet will convene a special session within a month of the election, where the current cabinet will resign, and a prime minister (who may or may not be Ishiba) will be elected. Intense jockeying is already ongoing to shape the outcome. The LDP may explore expanding the coalition to achieve a Lower House majority. Although less likely to succeed, the CDP may try to line up other opposition parties to take the reins of government from the ruling coalition. However, at this moment, the most likely scenario is a minority government with the LDP-Komeito coalition seeking issue-specific cooperation with some opposition parties. This will likely be a fragile equilibrium, given the risks of bogged-down negotiations and/or of succumbing to a no-confidence vote.
Longer-term effects will be important. The reset to Japanese politics comes with upsides and downsides. On the bright side, revitalized party competition could bring new dynamism to Japanese democracy, while the record number of elected female politicians may help break the glass ceiling in Japanese politics. But the risks of the new political era are also palpable. Weak or short-lived governments can slow down decisionmaking or hinder bold initiatives to tackle national problems. The return of the politics of indecision would poorly serve the interests of the Japanese public, given pressing economic challenges and more dangerous world politics.
When Japan last experienced prime ministerial instability or legislative gridlock with a divided parliament, it had yet to emerge as a network power, building consequential economic and security partnerships. Nor had it embarked on its ambitious modernization of the U.S.-Japan alliance, with deepened defense cooperation and new lines of effort like economic security.
The Japanese public did not opt for populism in this election or vote to reject their nation’s proactive international role. However, the new political landscape does open questions about Japan’s sustained leadership in a more fractured world. A weaker political hand for the prime minister will likely make budgetary fights fiercer with implications for the ongoing program to boost defense expenditures and acquire new capabilities. A more tortured legislative process would atrophy the decisive Japan that passed landmark legislation on national security reforms in 2015 and on economic security in 2022. The bigger risk is not a rejection of Japan’s hefty foreign policy track record. Rather, domestic distraction may hinder Tokyo’s ability to address new challenges in the Indo-Pacific at a time when American voters may soon reset their own politics.