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On February 8, Japan held a general election for the House of Representatives. Although the chamber still had nearly three years left in its term, Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi—who had herself been chosen by parliament only last October—declared that she wanted to seek a direct mandate from the public and dissolved the lower house. Under Japan’s Constitution, the prime minister is generally understood to hold effective control over dissolution of the House of Representatives.
The result was a political earthquake. The Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) won 68 percent of the seats—316 in total—marking the first time in Japanese history that a single party has secured a two-thirds supermajority. The Constitutional Democratic Party, which had held 32 percent of the seats before the election, and Komeito, which had held about 5 percent, chose to merge for this election under the name Centrist Reform Alliance. Even so, the combined bloc ended up with only 10.5 percent of the seats, a humiliating collapse. The remaining 21.5 percent were split among seven old and new parties.
Compared with the previous general election in 2024, the LDP increased its vote share by roughly ten percentage points in both single-member districts and proportional representation. In single-member districts, it captured just under 50 percent of the vote. Yet that translated into a stunning 86 percent of district seats—an effect of what Japanese voters often call the “magic” of the single-member district system, where only one candidate wins per district.
This “magic” reflected two main factors: Prime Minister Takaichi’s popularity—she is seen as upbeat, clear-spoken, and committed to proactive fiscal policy that would improve the economy and everyday life, much like former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe—and the opposition’s strategic missteps at a time when it was already in decline.
Since losing power in 2012 (when it was still known as the Democratic Party of Japan), the Constitutional Democratic Party has struggled with falling support and the weakening of labor unions that once sustained its grassroots operations. Komeito, meanwhile, long a coalition partner of the LDP, has faced aging and shrinking membership in Soka Gakkai, the Buddhist organization that underpins its electoral strength. Relations between Komeito and Ms. Takaichi had never been particularly warm, and after she became prime minister, Komeito withdrew from the governing coalition.
Just before the election, the two parties merged for House races under the Centrist Reform Alliance banner (while remaining separate parties in the upper house). Under their deal, former Constitutional Democratic candidates monopolized single-member districts, while former Komeito politicians dominated the top spots on the proportional lists.
In the era of the LDP–Komeito coalition, LDP candidates typically relied on around 10,000 Komeito votes in each district to secure victory. This time, those votes were gone—and in theory could even have swung to the opposition. Yet the outcome was striking: while all former Komeito candidates won their proportional seats, only seven former Constitutional Democratic candidates prevailed in single-member districts. Together, the two parties saw their combined strength plunge from 172 seats before the election to just 49.
A Government That Can “Do Anything”
A two-thirds majority effectively enables single-party rule. As long as legislation does not violate the Constitution, the LDP can now pass whatever laws it wishes. Bills can easily clear the lower house, and even if rejected by the upper house—where the LDP holds just over 40 percent of the seats and must rely on support from the Japan Innovation Party to reach a bare majority—they can still become law if the lower house overrides the rejection with a two-thirds vote.
The only exception is constitutional revision, which requires a two-thirds majority in both chambers. Even there, however, the ruling party could theoretically reach that threshold in the upper house by peeling off part of the opposition. The LDP has long advocated constitutional revision, partly reflecting a postwar sense that the current constitution was imposed by the U.S. occupation authorities.
That said, its goal is not a return to prewar authoritarianism or imperialism. Rather, it seeks to give explicit constitutional status to the Self-Defense Forces—renaming them a military—and to clearly authorize the use of force for self-defense, something taken for granted in most sovereign states.
It is also worth noting that Japan’s so-called “Three Non-Nuclear Principles”—not possessing nuclear weapons, not producing them, and not allowing them to be brought into Japan—are not statutory law but merely a resolution of the lower house. The third principle, “not allowing introduction,” may gradually be relaxed, though limited to permitting port calls by U.S. vessels carrying nuclear weapons rather than any land-based deployment. Even so, this is not an immediate issue: the United States is still developing nuclear systems that could be deployed in Japan, having previously withdrawn nuclear-armed Tomahawk missiles entirely.
This Does Not mean a Hawkish Turn in Public Opinion
The election result should not be interpreted as evidence that Japanese public opinion has turned hawkish. Young people in Japan are deeply averse to war, and applications to the Self-Defense Forces are declining. Any revival of conscription would be utterly unrealistic.
What voters want above all is economic stability and cleaner politics. In this election, they placed their bets on Prime Minister Takaichi, who openly emphasized her lineage from the Abe political tradition and spoke clearly about proactive fiscal policy, stronger defense capabilities, political funding reform, and orderly immigration policy.
Landslide victories often carry the seeds of future crises. Prime Minister Takaichi is known to make bold statements and decisions on her own judgement, and a single misstep could quickly trigger criticism both inside and outside the LDP. Media outlets hostile to the party—and especially to Ms. Takaichi—are likely to dig aggressively for scandals involving government figures. While many women welcome the emergence of Japan’s first female prime minister in decades, some others strongly dislike her.
Takaichi’s Diplomacy Is Not Hawkish
Prime Minister Takaichi has long been labeled a hawk—too enthusiastic about the U.S.–Japan alliance and overly tough on China and South Korea. Some of her supporters openly wave anti-China and anti-Korea banners.
She herself, however, is likely far more flexible. She has already built a close relationship of trust with South Korean President Lee Jae-myung, and as both societies change, mutual affinity between Japan and South Korea is growing.
On Taiwan, Prime Minister Takaichi recently made an overly assertive statement in parliament after being provoked by the opposition. In reality, no one in Japan believes the country could defend Taiwan on its own.
With China, Takaichi’s position has not deviated in the slightest from the framework of “strategic mutual benefit,” as she told President Xi Jinping at their November meeting. Her upcoming visit to Washington—ahead of former President Trump’s planned April visit to China—should make this clear. Ideally, Japan and the United States would jointly signal a strategy of engaging China as a partner in maintaining regional stability.
At present, Prime Minister Takaichi arguably enjoys the strongest domestic political base of any leader in the “West.” In that sense, she resembles Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, who was once labeled “far-right” but consolidated a strong domestic base before adopting a largely mainstream EU stance.
One might say: Takaichi in the East, Meloni in the West. One can only hope, though, that both Japan and Italy will avoid returning to their old habit of short-lived governments.
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