On Saturday, Mai and Ayako’s phones lit up with breaking news that neither had expected to read for years: Japan was days from having its first female prime minister following Sanae Takaichi’s election as leader of the Liberal Democratic party.
“It’s a huge change for Japan. She deserves a warm welcome from everyone, whether or not you like her or the LDP . . . the message is that half of the population is finally represented in that position,” said Ayako, a student interviewed outside Tokyo’s all-female Tsuda College.
“It’s kind of a miracle,” added Mai.
Across Japan, Takaichi’s victory was viewed as long overdue in a country placed 118th in the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Index. The lack of political representation — there are only two women in the current cabinet — is a heavy drag on that ranking. The House of Councillors section of Japan’s parliament building did not get a dedicated women’s lavatory until the 1990s.
Female business leaders, who are still a tiny minority in corporate Japan, see Takaichi’s ascendancy as a big step towards ending the discrimination that has held millions back from senior roles and which, in a shrinking population, threatens the country’s economic future.
Less than 1 per cent of the 1,643 companies listed on the Prime section of the Tokyo Stock Exchange had a female chief executive, according to a 2024 survey by Kyodo News.
“This historic moment has two implications for gender equality,” said Kaori Sasaki, the founder of ewoman, a diversity consultancy. “One is that precedent matters; Japan is shaped by tradition and precedent. This sets a good example for the future.
“The second is that the landscape changes, and when that happens, the bias changes. When you see a woman at the top, it will change the bias among Diet members, and in society.”
Maiko Todoroki, chief executive of Poppins, a nanny agency and one of Japan’s biggest nursery operators, said: “It’s a turning point for Japan, not just politically but economically and socially. My daughter is 13 . . . I’m delighted to see her seeing a woman become a prime minister.”
Todoroki has extra reason to celebrate: shares in Poppins surged almost 9 per cent after Takaichi’s victory, as investors bet that the new prime minister will push ahead with proposals that she backed as a senior MP for tax relief on babysitter fees and incentives for companies that provide in-house childcare.
Kathy Matsui, a former Goldman Sachs chief Japan strategist who coined the term “womenomics” over a quarter of a century ago, said the power of symbolism was huge. Takaichi was a student when her idol, Margaret Thatcher, became Britain’s prime minister in 1979.
“You cannot be what you cannot see,” said Matsui, adding that almost no Japanese schoolgirls, asked what they aspired to do, would mention the idea of top political leadership.
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As Matsui and others note, Takaichi’s rise is complicated. A traditionalist and a nationalist, she was propelled to the top of her party this week by its most conservative elements. At the same time, she has risen through its ranks despite those forces.
“She ground her way to the top of the whole system, which is very tough to survive in, much less thrive,” said Matsui. “Reaching the top echelons of government, pretty much on her own, is pretty remarkable.”
Takaichi has previously said that her parents refused to pay for private university on the traditionalist basis that she was a woman.
Still, it remains unclear how much Takaichi, a conservative who has held a number of ministerial portfolios including gender equality, will press a policy agenda that actively promotes greater equality.
She will not unveil her cabinet until formally being voted in as prime minister later this month but has promised “a surprise” in its selection. She has previously pointed to high levels of female cabinet participation in Nordic countries as a model.
Hiroko Takeda, a law professor at Nagoya University, said that Takaichi remained at heart a believer in traditional notions of a patriarchal Japanese family.
“She has actually been blocking policy agendas that might result in an improvement of the situation for women who are struggling economically,” said Takeda. “When she campaigned last year, she never actually touched on the gender issue or family issues and did not present herself as a champion of women’s politics.”
Others are similarly sceptical, arguing that Takaichi’s victory should not be taken as a signal that either the LDP or Japan had shifted to a more progressive stance.
“The LDP is projecting an illusion of change. She may well pick a cabinet with a lot of women to show she is different. The LDP’s survival depends on people believing that illusion, and the party has been very successful at presenting itself as having changed at different times in history,” said Mieko Nakabayashi, a political scientist at Waseda University. “It is a symbolic moment for Japan, but it is still the politics of illusion.”
Minutes after Takaichi’s victory was announced, she pledged her absolute devotion to the new role, vowing to “abandon work-life balance” and to “work like a horse”.
To some, this showed the work ethic that drove her rise; to others, it was the wrong message in a country where overwork is seen as a catastrophic burden on family life and a contributor to a rock-bottom birth rate.
“She is going to have criticism from all corners,” said Matsui. “Look at every female leader that has existed in the history of time.”
