Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi has decided to stake everything on her popularity by dissolving the House of Representatives, the country’s lower house, and calling snap elections for 8 February.
Key takeaways:
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Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi dissolved the lower house on 23 January, with elections set for 8 February, betting that her personal popularity will translate into electoral success for the LDP.
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Japan’s main opposition forces have consolidated, with the CDP uniting with the LDP’s former junior coalition partner, complicating Takaichi’s path to a clear victory.
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Despite strong personal approval ratings, the weak economy is likely to dominate the campaign, and parties have yet to present full policy agendas.
Since the start of the year, Japanese media speculation has increasingly pointed to an early election being called by Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who appears eager to capitalize on her popularity. Those rumors were confirmed on 19 January, when she signaled she would dissolve the lower house and call snap elections, a decision formalized on 23 January. The logic is straightforward: Takaichi is hoping to strengthen her mandate and secure a governing majority. But the path to that result for the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) looks far from assured.
Takaichi has presented herself publicly as a new political force. Internally, however, she has relied heavily on establishment support, above all her long association with her mentor and former prime minister Shinzo Abe and backing from party heavyweight Taro Aso, whom she appointed as party vice president. Her rise has been closely linked to the LDP’s right flank and her hardline positions on immigration and foreign tourism.
Her popularity reflects a mix of factors: the historic symbolism of being Japan’s first female prime minister, a persona that reads as direct and energetic, and a willingness to perform politics in public, on display most recently in her high-profile drum “jam” with the South Korean president. Her ideological positioning also appeals to Japan’s rising far-right, in ways that echo Abe’s own political trajectory.
Although Takaichi is only in her third month in office, her approval ratings have been unusually high, reportedly reaching the mid-70s. That contrasts sharply with her predecessor, the short-lived prime minister Shigeru Ishiba, and is notable even by Japanese “honeymoon phase” standards.
Polling suggests that voters are responding to Takaichi herself, rather than her party. In a Nikkei poll conducted in November 2025, respondents cited “trust in her character” (37%) and confidence in her “strong leadership” (34%) as their top reasons for supporting her government. Since then, the overall picture appears largely unchanged.
So far, however, Takaichi’s personal appeal has not fully translated into broader support for the LDP, something the party will need to address quickly if it hopes to secure a majority. In late 2025, the LDP sat at roughly 30% support, while a large plurality of voters (around 40% in that poll) expressed no attachment to any party. Many of Takaichi’s supporters likely come from this politically uncommitted group.
Early polling also suggested her approval was strongest among younger voters, an age group that tends to participate less consistently in elections. Maintaining their support may prove difficult, particularly if she fails to deliver tangible change, something the LDP has struggled to do for years.
Meanwhile, her approach to Japan’s worsening diplomatic dispute with China has appeared to play well domestically. In November, before tensions escalated further, about 56% of respondents said her handling of relations with China was good, compared to 29% who disapproved.
Japanese opposition: fragmented no more?
Japanese opposition politics has long been defined by attempts to dislodge the LDP, which has governed Japan almost continuously since its founding in 1955 (with only six years out of power). Since 1999, the LDP has relied on Komeito as its long-term junior coalition partner.
But Takaichi’s election as LDP leader in October 2025 triggered a rupture. Komeito left the coalition, citing both policy disagreements, particularly with Takaichi’s rightward shift, and the lingering damage of the LDP’s slush fund scandal. Komeito, widely seen as the political arm of the Buddhist movement Soka Gakkai, has traditionally acted as a moderating force inside government, a role that increasingly looked incompatible with Takaichi’s agenda.
Shortly before the election, Komeito joined forces with the Constitutional Democratic Party of Japan (CDP), the country’s largest opposition party, to form a new electoral alliance: the Centrist Reform Alliance (CRA). The goal is clear: to mount a credible challenge to the LDP in the lower house, and potentially give Takaichi a real fight.
Takaichi herself has framed the election in highly personalized terms, signaling that her strategy will hinge on her own popularity. “I am putting my future as prime minister on the line,” she said. “I want the people to decide directly whether they can entrust the management of the country to me.”
As its name suggests, the CRA is trying to occupy the political center, partly in response to the broader rightward tilt in national politics, which has also fueled the rise of groups like Sanseito. Early signals suggest the CRA is also softening its position on the CDP’s traditional platform. For example, on the controversial 2015 security legislation passed under Abe, which expanded the Self-Defense Forces’ ability to act in “situations threatening Japan’s survival,” the CRA now calls the law constitutional. Previously, the CDP argued that key provisions conflicted with the pacifist spirit of Japan’s post-war constitution, especially Article 9. That legal interpretation is also central to the current Japan–China diplomatic clash.
The CRA’s formation changes the electoral terrain in practical ways as well. Komeito will no longer provide parliamentary support for the LDP and, crucially, the LDP will lose the coordination benefits it once enjoyed during elections. This is because of Japan’s political system.
Japan’s lower house elections use a mixed system: 176 seats are chosen through proportional representation, and 289 seats through first-past-the-post races. In previous elections, the LDP and Komeito typically avoided running candidates against one another in key districts to prevent vote-splitting. With Komeito now campaigning under the CRA banner, those former coalition voters could become decisive in many constituencies.
Some projections suggest the LDP could lose 72 of the 132 first-past-the-post seats it won in 2024, with around 63 shifting to the CDP–Komeito bloc and another 9 going to third parties. Still, such calculations can only go so far. With elections less than three weeks away, the opposition has little time to establish a coherent national identity, and the CRA, in particular, must persuade voters it is a viable alternative rather than a tactical arrangement.
It’s the economy, stupid!
The contradiction at the heart of this election—a popular prime minister leading a party that lacks her level of public support—will ultimately be resolved at the ballot box. Substantively, Japan’s long-struggling economy is likely to dominate the campaign, as rising prices for essential goods have not been matched by comparable wage growth.
Across much of the political spectrum, parties have signaled support for reducing Japan’s 8% food tax. The CRA, the LDP, and the LDP’s current junior coalition partner, Ishin no Kai (the Japan Innovation Party), all agree on cutting it to zero. The main dispute is over duration: the opposition argues for permanent change, while the governing parties propose limiting the cut to two years.
Beyond tax cuts, Takaichi is expected to double down on her long-held belief that Japan should spend its way out of stagnation, a stance reminiscent of her mentor’s signature “Abenomics” approach. She has already signaled that she wants to end what she calls “excessively tight fiscal policy.” The CRA, by contrast, has stressed fiscal consolidation, arguing it is necessary to reassure markets.
More detailed policy proposals have yet to emerge from either the government or the opposition. But one thing is already clear: in what would be the shortest campaign period in Japan’s post-war history—just 16 days between 23 January and 8 February—every party will be forced into a sprint to define itself to a deeply skeptical electorate.
The opposition must prove it can govern, and the newly formed CRA must convince voters it is more than a convenient alliance. The LDP, for its part, begins with a clear advantage in Takaichi’s personal popularity, but the election will determine whether that is enough to deliver victory where it matters: at the level of party support and seat counts.
