I usually write for a Japanese audience, but a recent CNN headline, “Japan’s conservative leader bets big on Takaichi mania with snap election. Will her gamble pay off?“ felt slightly off the mark. It prompted me to write this short piece for English speakers. Those reading CNN might imagine Japan is being swept away by a radical new force under Prime Minister Takaichi. But that’s not quite right. In reality, what the Japanese public is seeking is a “reason to do nothing and think about nothing.” We are searching for the tools to switch off our brains—and I can best explain this using a staple of our proud culture: the convenience store onigiri (rice ball).
CNN’s narrative suggests a public enraptured by a grand story. They likely observed Takaichi’s campaign trail and, perhaps influenced by Donald Trump’s prior endorsement of her, subconsciously applied the “Trump/MAGA” template.
However, looking at daily life in Japan, that level of fervor is absent. Given the short campaign period, most people never even saw a candidate in person. I only happened to spot one preparing a speech outside a supermarket once. Furthermore, Japanese people rarely disclose their political leanings to others.
Initially, I analyzed Takaichi as a “Manager of Dreams” who would coast to victory, but I soon realized that wasn’t enough. It seems people are looking for something “Bright” and “The Right Answer.”
“Bright” is easy to explain. For thirty “Lost Decades,” political media has endlessly repeated that Japan is doomed. Yet, the demographic crisis remains unsolved. People are desperate for a distraction they can rally behind—like the Olympics or Shohei Ohtani.
“The Right Answer” (seikai 正解), however, is harder to define. It refers to a bundle of empirical rules built up over time that suggest, “If you follow this, you won’t fail.”
Americans tend to believe that “what is right” is something each individual decides; the answer is “handmade.” In contrast, the Japanese “Right Answer” is like a convenience store onigiri. It comes pre-wrapped in clean plastic, accompanied by a concise explanation of why it’s wonderful. Voters look for something that looks well-thought-out, but they have no intention of verifying it themselves.
Takaichi’s strategy was the “Guarantee of a Concise Right Answer.” Meanwhile, the economic media grew increasingly frustrated. The Nikkei criticized her in a stern editorial, calling consumption tax cuts “populism.” A report from Mizuho Bank didn’t hide its irritation either, labeling her remarks “antiquated” and arguing that the basis for her “growth narrative” had already vanished.
Yet, Takaichi skipped the NHK Sunday Debate, avoiding any discussion on the “ingredients” of her onigiri. Whether by design or accident, no “quality inspection” took place. Takako Suzuki of the LDP, an expert on youth strategy, called this “crisis management.” It worked; Jiji Press reported that Takaichi’s SNS engagement was far ahead of the pack.
I’ve realized that the reason predecessors like Kishida and Ishiba were unpopular is that they essentially told the public, “There are no ready-made answers for Japan’s future; you must think for yourselves.” It was as if a convenience store suddenly announced, “We’re stopping the onigiri service—please go find your own ingredients.”
It’s just a personal hunch, but I feel Japanese society is polarizing into two groups: those who quietly move their assets abroad because they no longer expect anything from politics, and those who choose “inaction” by retreating into a narrative.
The real question isn’t “Where will an obsessed Japan go under Takaichi’s incitement?” An American-style upheaval likely won’t happen here. The real question is: Will the Japanese people eventually realize the onigiri they were sold was filled with trash and get angry, or will they simply grow accustomed to the taste?
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