Shigeru Ishiba, the newly elected leader of Japan's ruling party, the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP)
Credit: Reuters Photo
By Gearoid Reidy
When Shigeru Ishiba becomes the 65th Japanese prime minister on Tuesday, it will represent a remarkable break with the recent past.
All of the candidates to replace Fumio Kishida were flawed. But given public discontent with the ruling Liberal Democratic Party, the publicly popular Ishiba — a fierce critic of the late Shinzo Abe, whose faction was most implicated in recent scandals over funding and influence — was the safest choice. Faced with the option of a successor to Abe or his polar opposite, the party has broken with over a decade of orthodoxy.
A change might do the country some good. But is it a step in the right direction? Say what you will about Abe’s goals or how he went about them, but you can’t deny the clarity of his vision: A strong nation that can put its wartime guilt aside to become a global actor befitting of its size, with a government that will do what it takes to create a powerful economy.
Japanese leaders who last tend to have strong plans. At a time of never-ending stagnation, Junichiro Koizumi pledged “ceaseless reform” to break Japan free. Abe vowed to “take back Japan.” Even Kishida promised, though didn’t deliver, an entirely new form of post-neoliberal capitalism.
By contrast, nailing down what Ishiba wants Japan to look like is more like nailing jelly to a wall. His statements on everything from nuclear power to monetary policy are by turns contradictory and vague. In researching them over the past weeks, I’ve been struck by how his policies that seek to reposition Japan vis-a-vis the US and China, combined with an economic proposal little more than the concept of a plan, form a vision as unambitious as his leadership race slogan: “Protecting Japan’s Future.”
There is a lot to like about Ishiba the man. He is scandal-free, an honest character who prides himself on pressing flesh, knocking on doors and listening to voters. While other politicians enjoy luxury dining at the taxpayer’s expense, he favors simpler soul food like Japanese curry (you can find his recipe here) and ramen (he is the head of a group of lawmakers promoting the noodles).
He’s affable, carrying few airs and unafraid to poke fun at himself. Few politicians would be seen cosplaying as pink, rotund Majin Buu from Akira Toriyama’s Dragon Ball. On the campaign trail, he recently dressed as Tora-san, the unlucky-in-love salesman who stars in the the world’s longest-running movie series, Otoko wa Tsurai Yo. Unusually in Japan, he is also a Christian, the first prime minister since Taro Aso.
He leans socially liberal, having spoken in support of same-sex marriage and the touchstone issue of allowing married couples to have separate surnames (currently they’re required to share a name.) His interest in anime and idol groups are the geeky type of hobbies that appeal to broad swatches of the country. And he’s known as the biggest tetsu-ota, or train nerd in Tokyo’s corridor of power, something that will endear him to fellow enthusiast, US ambassador Rahm Emanuel.
But if Ishiba follows through on some of his stated policies, that might be where the endearment ends. He is seeking to change the Status of Forces Agreement for US troops in Japan, aims to pursue an “Asian NATO” that no one asked for, and has proposed the fanciful, tone-deaf notion of stationing Japanese forces on Guam, occupied by Japan during World War II. Friction with Washington could increase further in the event of a Donald Trump victory; in a 2016 swipe, Ishiba spoke of Trump’s “ignorance of the true nature of the alliance” with Japan, albeit without mentioning him by name.
Ishiba’s position on China is even harder to map out. He’s by turns hawkish and pragmatic, and seeks active diplomacy with Beijing that would benefit both sides — rhetoric that has changed little in almost a decade, the last time Ishiba held a significant position in the party — despite the geopolitical changes. His self-styled identification with Tanzan Ishibashi, a journalist who became prime minister in the 1950s and who had promoted a pre-war “Small Japan-ism” that called to mind the Little Englanders of the 19th century who protested the British Empire’s expansion, might be the most telling: A vision of Japan as an aloof country with strong borders but little ambition.
His economic policy is similarly slippery. He talks of boosting the lot of the less fortunate, and revitalizing regions outside Tokyo. His political inspiration, the former prime minister Kakuei Tanaka, had similar promises — but also a plan to do so through great infrastructure projects such as the Shinkansen bullet train network.
If Ishiba has similar dreams, he’s not telling anyone. On Friday, he had few new ideas to help boost growth that is expected to be flat this year, and mostly called for continuing Kishida’s goal of raising wages. In past remarks, as well as in his opposition to Abenomics, he has seemed to favor austerity. He has expressed support for Bank of Japan rate hikes, has said there’s room to raise both corporate and capital gains taxes, and has emphasized the importance of reducing Japan’s debt. The fiscal consolidation wing of Japan’s corridors of power, mostly out of favor since Abe took over, might see in him an ally.
That’s one reason the Nikkei 225 Stock Average plunged nearly 5 per cent on Monday, though markets were also unwinding bets made on the easy money supporting Sanae Takaichi, who Ishiba defeated in the shock run-off vote.
The reaction, swiftly dubbed “Ishiba Shock,” might of course be as short-lived as the “Kishida Shock” of three years ago. Then, traders fretted over his redistribution policies; when it later became clear he wouldn’t raise capital gains taxes, stocks eventually rose to all-time highs.
A more telling judgment will be how Ishiba fares in his first big decision: Even before formally assuming the role of prime minister, he has already announced a general election for Oct 27.
Ishiba once said that people sided with the now-defunct opposition Democratic Party of Japan when it took power in 2009 because the LDP “was failing their expectations, and not because they thought the DPJ was good.” I have long thought the same is true of Ishiba’s own high standing: He is merely a proxy for a desire for change in the ruling party. But if he can come up with a slate of concrete policies, we might see what Ishiba’s Japan will truly look like.