Who Decides When Japan Votes?

On January 23, 2026, the very day the regular Diet session is being convened, Prime Minister Takaichi is dissolving Japan's House of Representatives.

「国民の皆様、私は、本日、内閣総理大臣として、１月２３日に、衆議院を解散する決断をいたしました。なぜ、今なのか。高市早苗が、内閣総理大臣で良いのかどうか、今、主権者たる国民の皆様に決めていただく、それしかない。そのように考えたからでございます」

"My fellow citizens, as Prime Minister, I have decided today to dissolve the House of Representatives on January 23rd. Why now? The only way forward is to let you, the sovereign people, decide here and now whether Sanae Takaichi should serve as Prime Minister. That is the conclusion I have reached.”

However, this rationale for dissolution raises institutional concerns. Japan operates under a parliamentary cabinet system, where the Prime Minister is not directly elected by the people. Article 66 of the Constitution stipulates that the Cabinet bears collective responsibility to the Diet for the exercise of executive power, meaning the source of the Prime Minister's legitimacy lies not in "direct popular mandate" but squarely with the Diet. It is not the voters but Diet members who ultimately decide who should serve as Prime Minister, and that judgment has already been expressed through the prime ministerial nomination process. Nevertheless, framing the dissolution as “asking the people whether Sanae Takaichi should be Prime Minister” skips over a fundamental premise of parliamentary democracy. It portrays a House of Representatives election as though it were a personal vote of confidence in the Prime Minister. In this regard, questions remain about where exactly the institutional justification for this dissolution lies.

At the press conference, she also announced the election timetable, the official campaign would begin on January 27, with voting scheduled for February 8. In Japan, members of the House of Representatives nominally serve four-year terms, but those terms are cut short whenever the chamber is dissolved (Article 45 of the Constitution). Once dissolution occurs, Article 54 sets a rapid constitutional clock in motion, a general election must be held within 40 days of dissolution, and the Diet must be convened within 30 days after the election.

In other words, dissolution is not a mere political event. It is an institutional switch of enormous weight, one that forces voters, under intense time pressure, to decide what exactly they are being asked to endorse.

Yet Japan’s practice of dissolving the lower house has long been noted as unusual among democratic systems. The central issue is how easily the prime minister can control the timing of dissolution, turning election dates into instruments of political strategy. Japan’s Constitution lists “the dissolution of the House of Representatives” in Article 7 as one of the Emperor’s ceremonial acts of state, while Article 69 explicitly provides that, if a no-confidence motion is passed, the cabinet must either resign or dissolve the House within ten days.

A dissolution under Article 69 is relatively clear, it has defined conditions and constraints.
A dissolution under Article 7, by contrast, specifies no conditions at all.

Despite this, postwar Japan has accumulated a political practice in which the Emperor formally dissolves the House based on the “advice and approval” of the cabinet, effectively allowing the prime minister to initiate dissolution at will. This so-called “Article 7 dissolution” has become routine. As a result, dissolutions have often functioned less as emergency responses to parliamentary deadlock and more as “strategic dissolutions”, timed for moments when the ruling party expects electoral advantage or when opposition forces are unprepared. Criticism of the “abuse of dissolution power” has accompanied this practice for decades.

A comparison with other democracies sharpens the picture. In the United States, there is no concept of dissolving the legislature at all, election dates are fixed, and the executive has no ability to manipulate electoral timing. In Germany, a chancellor cannot freely dissolve parliament, dissolution is possible only after a loss of confidence and requires the involvement of the federal president. The system is explicitly designed to prevent those in power from controlling election timing.

The United Kingdom offers a more complicated example. After introducing fixed parliamentary terms to curb prime ministerial discretion, it later reversed course with legislation in 2022, effectively restoring a system in which the prime minister may request dissolution from the monarch. In short, countries where prime ministers can lead dissolutions do exist. What makes Japan particularly problematic, however, is the lack of clearly defined constitutional conditions, a vacuum filled instead by political convention, allowing dissolution timing to become highly tactical and difficult to restrain.

Seen in this context, it is hardly surprising that Prime Minister Takaichi’s decision has drawn criticism as a “dissolution without a compelling cause.” What troubled me most was her explanation at the press conference. She stated:

「国論を二分するような大胆な政策、改革にも批判を恐れることなく、果敢に挑戦していきたい。だからこそ、政治の側の都合ではなくて、国民の皆様の意思に正面から問いかけるという道を選びました」

“I want to boldly pursue policies and reforms that may divide public opinion, without fearing criticism. That is precisely why I chose to ask the people directly for their judgment, not for the convenience of politics, but by confronting the will of the public head-on.”

At first glance, these words sound like a principled appeal to democratic legitimacy. The problem lies elsewhere: how concretely were these so-called “bold policies” presented to the electorate?
At the same conference, the prime minister spoke in broad terms about a “fundamentally new economic and fiscal policy” and a “major transformation of core national policies,” touching on themes such as enhanced intelligence capabilities, anti-espionage legislation, and what she calls “responsible proactive fiscal policy.” Yet what remained unclear was the level of detail necessary for voters to meaningfully decide whether they agree or disagree. What will be done, in what order, at what scale, and with what costs and trade-offs, all of this was left vague.

Some media reports have floated specific ideas, such as a temporary zero rate on food consumption tax. Even so, it is difficult to say that these individual proposals have been clearly organized and presented as the central themes of the dissolution.

Because elections must be held within the compressed timetable mandated by Article 54, clarity matters all the more. If dissolution is truly meant to “ask the people,” then what is being asked must be made explicit. To seek public trust while relying on abstract slogans, “we will implement it after we win”, and withholding concrete detail comes dangerously close, in legal terms, to a blanket mandate. A victory without clearly defined issues can be invoked to justify virtually any policy package as having received “the people’s approval.”

To dissolve parliament while calling an election “a test of the people’s will,” yet leaving the question itself deliberately blurred, risks using the outward form of democratic procedure to maximize the freedom of those who govern. I find that deeply unsettling...

Hinoe-Uma: The Year of Fire Horse

 Happy New Year.

The zodiac animal for this year marks 丙午(Hinoe-Uma), which comes around only once every sixty years.

This year’s 年賀状(Nengajo, New Year’s cards). I draw a clumsy horse by hand on each card and add a short message before sending them to friends.

What Is 干支 (Eto, the Japanese Zodiac)？

Strictly speaking, eto refers not just to the twelve zodiac animals, but to a much older calendrical system inherited from ancient China. It combines two separate cycles: 十干(jikkan, the Ten Heavenly Stems) and 十二支(junishi, the Twelve Earthly Branches).

In modern Japan, however, people usually think only of the twelve animals.

That explanation probably sounded more confusing than helpful, so let me break it down.

The 60-Year Cycle Explained Simply

The Ten Heavenly Stems consist of—unsurprisingly—ten elements, while the Twelve Earthly Branches consist of twelve.
At first glance, you might assume this creates a 120-year cycle (10 × 12). But both advance together, one step per year. The full cycle therefore repeats after 60 years, which is the least common multiple of 10 and 12.

The Heavenly Stems originated in ancient China and were used to describe time, direction, and the energies of the Five Elements: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water.

Kanji	Onyomi	Kunyomi
甲	kō	kinoe
乙	otsu	kinoto
丙	hei	hinoe
丁	tei	hinoto
戊	bo	tsuchinoe
己	ki	tsuchinoto
庚	kō	kanoe
辛	shin	kanoto
壬	jin	mizunoe
癸	ki	mizunoto

By the way, this is admittedly a niche aside, but anyone who has studied even a little law in Japan will find the Heavenly Stems oddly familiar. They often appear as placeholders for people’s names in legal problems, used in their 音読み(onyomi), not the zodiac-style 訓読み(kunyomi) ones. For example, 

甲 (the owner) sold his land to 乙 (the first purchaser), but the transfer of ownership was not registered.
Subsequently, 甲 sold the same land again to 丙 (the second purchaser). 丙 paid the purchase price and duly completed the registration of the transfer of ownership.

Meanwhile, when 乙 borrowed money from 丁 (a creditor), 乙 had agreed to establish a mortgage on the land in favor of 丁. However, because the mortgage was never registered, it cannot be asserted against third parties.

Later, 丙 offered the land as collateral to 戊 (a bank), and a mortgage in favor of 戊 was properly registered.

In this situation, can 乙 assert ownership of the land against 丙? Furthermore, does 戊’s registered mortgage take priority over 丁’s interest?

The Twelve Earthly Branches (Zodiac Animals)

Now, on to the better-known part: the twelve zodiac animals, each represented by a Chinese character.

Character	Reading	English
子	Ne	Rat
丑	Ushi	Ox
寅	Tora	Tiger
卯	U	Rabbit
辰	Tatsu	Dragon
巳	Mi	Snake
午	Uma	Horse
未	Hitsuji	Sheep
申	Saru	Monkey
酉	Tori	Rooster
戌	Inu	Dog
亥	I	Boar

Last year, 2025, was 乙巳(Kinoto-Mi).
The next Heavenly Stem after 乙 is 丙, and the next Earthly Branch after 巳 is 午.
That brings us to 2026, 丙午(Hinoe-Uma).

By now, you can probably see how the combination of stems and branches completes a full cycle every sixty years.

The Dark Folklore of Hinoe-Uma

Hinoe-Uma has long been associated with deeply discriminatory folklore.
Women born in this year were said to be “hot-tempered,” “cursed,” or even “destined to bring ruin upon their husbands.” Some superstitions went so far as to claim they would “devour seven husbands.”

As a result, during the previous Hinoe-Uma year in 1966, Japan saw a dramatic drop in births—more than 25% fewer than the year before.

Changes in the number of births in Japan

It is hard to imagine many people in Japan in 2026 genuinely believing such superstitions.

That said, even in 1966, many women reportedly did not believe the folklore themselves. Still, they faced pressure from family and neighbors: “Why not just wait until next year?”
To avoid conflict, some postponed pregnancy anyway.

Given Japan’s already severe declining birthrate, one cannot help but wonder whether we will see even a slight echo of that pattern again this year.

For anyone still thinking about the legal problem mentioned earlier, the correct answer is as follows:

乙, who lacks registration, cannot assert ownership against 丙, who has completed registration. Furthermore, 戊’s mortgage takes priority over 丁’s claim.

And on that note, I wish you a very calm, rational, superstition-free New Year.

Light Between Sky and Sea “Winter Fantasy” at Sanuki Manno Park

 At Sanuki Manno National Government Park in Kagawa Prefecture, the annual illumination event Winter Fantasy is held from November 29, 2025, to January 12, 2026. Now in its 20th year, this season’s theme is “Light Connecting the Sky and the Sea.” Using approximately 650,000 LED bulbs and spotlights, the park is transformed into a luminous landscape inspired by the sky, the ocean, and the creatures that inhabit them.

I visited on Sunday the 28th. With the year-end and New Year holidays already underway, many people had likely returned to Kagawa from other prefectures. Admission requires payment at either the North or West gate for both entry and parking, but the roads leading to the gates were backed up for nearly two kilometers. It took over an hour just to get inside the park.

Sunset comes around 5:00 p.m. at this time of year, so I had hoped to enter shortly after 4:00 p.m. and enjoy a walk through the park while there was still some daylight. In reality, the crowds were far heavier than expected, and by the time I finally entered, it was already past 5:30 p.m., with dusk settling in.

I have always loved that brief moment after sunset when the sky deepens into a rich indigo, while a faint band of orange still lingers along the western horizon.

The temperature was around 2°C (36°F), so cold that my fingertips went numb while holding my smartphone. I regretted not disabling fingerprint authentication beforehand and bringing gloves with me.

Even so, it was a wonderful experience, almost as if I were spending time beneath a sky filled with countless stars. Next year, I plan to visit again, but this time I’ll be sure to avoid the busy year-end holiday period.

Japan’s Inflation Trap: The Hidden Tax of Inflation in Japan

 When I think about Japan’s economy as a Japanese citizen, I cannot help but feel disheartened. The problem is not a single failure, but a structure in which monetary policy, fiscal policy, and exchange rates are entangled all at once, leaving very little room to escape. To begin with, Japan is already clearly in an inflationary phase. Consumer prices, both headline and core, have been rising at around 3% year-on-year, a level that can no longer be dismissed as temporary or blamed solely on imported inflation. Under normal circumstances, a central bank would respond by raising policy rates, supporting the currency, and anchoring inflation expectations. Yet the Bank of Japan, burdened by years of ultra-low interest rates and massive holdings of government bonds, finds it extremely difficult to make that obvious choice.

In the latest move, the policy rate was raised from 0.5% to 0.75%. What followed, however, was not a stronger yen, but a weaker one. This is a highly symbolic outcome. The fact that the yen was sold even after a rate hike indicates that markets have concluded this level of tightening is insufficient to control either inflation or fiscal risks. With inflation hovering around 3%, a policy rate of 0.75% still implies deeply negative real interest rates, offering little incentive to hold yen. Moreover, investors appear convinced that the Bank of Japan, constrained by political and fiscal considerations, will remain reluctant to normalize policy decisively. As a result, the perception has taken hold that rate hikes will remain small, cautious, and perpetually delayed, and the yen continues to be sold accordingly.

On December 19, immediately after the BOJ announced a rate hike, the yen weakened sharply

This monetary instability is being exacerbated by the government’s fiscal stance. The Takaichi administration’s slogan of “responsible proactive fiscal policy” is presented as a strategy to balance growth and national security, but in practice it deepens reliance on deficit-financed government bonds. Most of the supplementary budget is funded through new bond issuance, and even defense spending, long protected by the postwar taboo against deficit financing, has now crossed that line. Expanding defense expenditures to more than 3% of GDP without a clearly secured and sustainable tax base represents, from the market’s perspective, a clear retreat from fiscal discipline.

That judgment is already visible in the government bond market. Yields on 10-year Japanese government bonds have risen at a pace rarely seen before, reaching the 2% range. For decades, JGBs were regarded as immovable safe assets. What we are witnessing now is the beginning of a repricing driven by doubts about fiscal sustainability itself. Rising yields mean higher debt-servicing costs, translating into trillions of yen in additional fiscal burden. If those interest payments are then financed through yet more bond issuance, confidence in the yen will deteriorate further, setting the stage for renewed currency depreciation and accelerating inflation.

Sharp rise in 10-year JGB yields.

What makes Japan’s inflation problem particularly serious is that the country is drifting toward what economists call fiscal dominance. Japan’s total government debt stands at roughly 250% of GDP, an extraordinary level even among advanced economies. For a country carrying debt of this magnitude, rising interest rates are no longer merely a tool of macroeconomic adjustment; they are a direct threat to fiscal stability itself. Raise rates decisively, and debt-servicing costs explode. Suppress rates, and the currency weakens while inflation accelerates. When a central bank is effectively forced to prioritize government solvency over price stability, fiscal dominance has already set in, and markets are increasingly viewing Japan through that lens.

The people most directly affected by this situation are those whose assets and incomes are almost entirely denominated in yen. Banknotes issued by the Bank of Japan are, at their core, pieces of paper sustained by trust in the state and society, a human-based monetary system. When that trust erodes, the real value of savings is quietly shaved away. Unless wages consistently keep pace with prices, living standards will inevitably decline. Inflation is a process in which wealth erodes even without anyone explicitly taking it, and the burden falls disproportionately on those who hold only cash and yen deposits.

And yet, public sentiment is buoyed by the symbolism of Japan’s first female prime minister, with some people enthusiastically engaging in what they call “サナ活(Sana-katsu)”, a form of political fandom. Many of these supporters are ordinary citizens whose entire livelihoods depend on the credibility of the yen, and who have no way to escape shifts in currency or bond markets. A weaker yen raises the cost of imports, pushing food, energy, and daily necessities ever higher. Rising interest rates increase the burden of mortgages and loans, while a slowing economy places downward pressure on employment and wages. To hold only yen-denominated assets is to bear the full force of these structural changes.

This morning’s newspaper front page, approval ratings for the Takaichi cabinet remain strikingly high

Around the Takaichi administration, reflationists often repeat the claim that “because Japan issues debt in its own currency, fiscal collapse is impossible.” On an accounting level, this may sound persuasive. Japan issues government bonds in yen, and the BOJ can supply yen without limit. In that narrow sense, a formal default, an inability to repay principal and interest in nominal terms, is indeed unlikely. What this argument fatally overlooks, however, is that the central bank can create currency symbols, not economic value.

The yen functions as money only because it is supported by social trust, the belief that this piece of paper will continue to purchase goods and services in the future. As long as that trust holds, unlimited issuance may appear harmless. But trust is not unconditional. When money creation becomes excessive, inflation accelerates, and everyday life becomes unsustainable, people begin to avoid holding that currency altogether. A situation in which prices keep rising, wages fail to catch up, savings lose real value, and even basic necessities become difficult to afford constitutes a very real collapse from the perspective of ordinary people, even without any formal declaration of default.

Ultimately, the phrase “there will be no fiscal collapse” protects the state’s appearance, not the lives of its citizens. An economy in which ordinary people can no longer sustain their livelihoods cannot be called healthy, no matter how carefully its books are balanced. Currency is nothing more, and nothing less, than a network of human trust. When that trust breaks, collapse has already occurred.

Japan’s economy now stands at a critical juncture. This is not a question of right versus left, nor an ideological debate. It is a concrete and unavoidable issue for everyone whose life is denominated in yen. The Takaichi cabinet enjoys approval ratings near 70%, and many people hope its economic policies will succeed. But markets are relentlessly honest.

Why Christmas in Japan Is Nothing Like the West

 Christmas in Japan looks quite different from the way it is celebrated in the West.

In Europe and the United States, Christmas is a solemn family holiday. Most shops close, people return home, and the cities grow quiet. Japan, on the other hand, treats Christmas as a day for couples, a peak season for shopping malls, restaurants, and romantic marketing campaigns.

Being single on Christmas even has its own nickname: “クリぼっち(Kuri-bocchi)” (literally, “Christmas alone”). Some single people jokingly sing Jingle Bells as “Single Bell,” turning self-deprecation into seasonal humor.

シングルベル、シングルベル、鈴がなる♪
(♪ Single bell, single bell, single all the way)

Christmas tree in a shopping mall

The Day Christmas Arrived in Japan

Christmas first reached Japan in the 16th century.
In 1549, Francis Xavier arrived as a missionary, and Christianity began spreading across Japan. In 1552, a Christmas Mass was held in Yamaguchi—considered the very first Christmas celebration on Japanese soil.

Christianity later disappeared from public life due to the Tokugawa shogunate’s ban. But when the ban was lifted in 1873, Christmas returned to Japan as part of the Westernization boom of the Meiji era.

By 1886, Japan saw its first decorated Christmas tree at Meidi-ya in Yokohama. December 7 is still known as “Christmas Tree Day” because of this event.

When Christmas Became a Visible Part of Japanese Life

On December 25, 1926, Emperor Taisho passed away.
Starting the following year, December 25 became a national holiday known as the Taisho Emperor Festival.

For roughly twenty years (1927–1947), Christmas coincided with a public holiday. This accidental overlap quietly planted the idea that December 25 is a special day.

Although Christmas faded during World War II due to its Western origins, it resurfaced powerfully after the war. American movies, music, and magazines introduced a glamorous, “Hollywood-style” Christmas that captivated the Japanese imagination.

From the 1950s onward, department stores and shopping streets launched full-scale Christmas promotions—complete with trees, gifts, cakes, and the tradition of giving presents to children.
This is when Christmas finally became a firmly established part of everyday Japanese life.

The Curious Birth of Japan’s “Kentucky Christmas”

When Japanese people think of Christmas dinner, many imagine Kentucky Fried Chicken.
This unique custom began with the wildly successful 1974 marketing campaign, “Kentucky for Christmas!” After that, eating fried chicken on Christmas became a nationwide tradition.

 Here are five commemorative KFC plates from my home.
KFC Party Barrel typically includes a bucket of chicken, a cake, salad, sometimes lasagna in recent years, and used to have a decorative plate. I haven’t eaten one in ages, I’ve been on a ketogenic diet for about ten years, but the nostalgia remains.

How Christmas Became “A Night for Lovers”

By the 1980s, women’s magazines were running annual Christmas features with predictable themes:
“A Night with Your Boyfriend,” “Romantic Date Spots,” “Perfect Christmas Gifts.”
This was when the idea of “Christmas = a romantic couple’s holiday” firmly took root among young people.

In 1980, Yumi Matsutoya’s hit song “恋人がサンタクロース(Koibito ga Santa Claus)” (“My Lover Is Santa Claus”) amplified the image of Christmas as a night filled with romance and anticipation.

(Lyrics: Yumi Matsutoya, English translation by Umineko)

♪Long ago, the stylish woman next door said to me on Christmas Day
"Tonight, when eight o'clock comes around, Santa will come to my house."
"That's not true, that's only in picture books."
She winked at me when I said that, and added,
"When you grow up, you’ll understand too, someday.”

My bf is Santa Claus, he's really Santa Claus, racing past the whirlwind.
My bf is Santa Claus, a tall Santa Claus, who came from the snowy town♪

 

Times Change: “Kuri-bocchi” Becomes Normal

But the landscape has changed dramatically in recent years.
A 2024 survey found that 42% of single men and women aged 25–34 spend Christmas alone, while only 21% spend it with a romantic partner.

When I was around twenty, this would have been unthinkable.
Back then, many young women rushed to “find a boyfriend before Christmas,” and as the days grew colder in late October and November, group dating events 合コン(goukon) multiplied.
There was a palpable sense of “I refuse to spend Christmas alone!”

Today’s young adults, however, seem much more relaxed.
You cannot will a romantic partner into existence by a deadline, and perhaps the modern attitude is far healthier.