Sanae Takaichi just pulled off something rare in the sterile corridors of Japanese politics: she made history. As the nation’s first female prime minister, she called a snap election, bet her political future on a 16-day sprint, and walked away with a supermajority that would make most leaders drool. The Liberal Democratic Party now holds 316 seats in the lower house—more than two-thirds of the chamber. It is the kind of dominance that hasn’t been seen since the ashes of World War II settled.

But here is the uncomfortable question that should keep Takaichi awake at night: What, exactly, does she plan to do with it?

Let’s be clear about February 15,2026, outcome represents. Voters didn’t hand the LDP a blank check because they were swept away by policy depth or philosophical rigor. They voted for a fresh face. They voted because Takaichi—articulate, telegenic, and digitally savvy—offered a departure from the grey-suited rotation of men who have governed Japan into stagnation. They voted for the idea of change. But ideas are cheap. Governance is where the cost comes due.

The campaign itself was a masterclass in tactical evasion. Takaichi dissolved the lower house on Jan. 23, an unusual move that signaled confidence bordering on audacity. She spoke of pursuing “the most daring policies and reforms that could divide national opinion.” It was Churchillian in tone, but when the time came to explain what those policies actually were, the Prime Minister went quiet. On the consumption tax—the third rail of Japanese politics—the LDP’s pledge was to “hasten talks at a cross-party national council” about a freeze. That isn’t a policy; it’s a filibuster disguised as a promise.

And here’s the rub: the public didn’t have time to demand better. Sixteen days between dissolution and vote is the shortest window in postwar history. There was no breathing room for scrutiny, no space for the opposition to land a punch. The perennial rot of “politics and money” never gained traction because the race was over before it started. If the LDP interprets this victory as a public endorsement of its agenda, it isn’t just mistaken—it’s delusional.

Now comes the hard part. Takaichi sits atop a legislative fortress. With a two-thirds majority, her coalition can override the upper house at will. That is power, pure and unadulterated. But power in a democracy is like fire: useful when contained, devastating when it spreads. The temptation will be to bulldoze through opposition, to treat the Diet as a rubber stamp. That would be a catastrophic error. The public may have voted for change, but they did not vote for arrogance. The LDP should deliberate with the humility of a minority, even as it governs with the strength of a majority.

The to-do list is daunting. First, the fiscal 2026 budget must pass—a mundane necessity, but one that affects every household in Japan. Beyond that lies the labyrinth: social security reform that requires either raising contributions or cutting benefits, neither of which wins popularity contests. Energy policy that must balance affordability with sustainability. A deteriorating relationship with China. An American ally that has become erratic, to put it charitably.

And then there is the consumption tax. The coalition partner, the Japan Innovation Party, wants it slashed to zero on foodstuffs. It sounds like a mercy for struggling families. In reality, it would carve a 5 trillion yen hole in the national treasury, eviscerating the funds needed for a rapidly aging society. Takaichi speaks of “responsible active fiscal policy.” But if that means cutting revenue without a plan to replace it, the word “responsible” loses all meaning. The markets are already jittery; long-term interest rates are climbing. Fiscal discipline isn’t a talking point—it’s the difference between solvency and crisis.

Takaichi has spoken of prioritizing her campaign pledges. She should. But she must also recognize that a pledge made in the heat of an election is not a suicide pact with reality. Populism is a wave washing over democracies everywhere, and Japan is not immune. The temptation to buy love with tax cuts is strong. But love bought with borrowed money turns to resentment when the bill arrives.

Meanwhile, the opposition lies in ruins. The Centrist Reform Alliance, the Frankenstein merger of the Constitutional Democratic Party and Komeito, collapsed from 167 seats to 49. It was a political corpse before it ever drew breath. Its leaders have resigned, and the remaining fragments face an existential choice: cooperate with the ruling parties on policy, or unite against them in futility. Neither option is inspiring.

This is the new landscape of Japanese politics. The LDP, which just last year was reeling from defeats, now stands alone at the summit. It is a reversal that should induce sobriety, not euphoria. Takaichi has been given a gift—a mandate, a majority, a moment. But moments pass. Mandates expire. What endures is what you build with them.

She should resist the lure of easy victories. She should govern not for the next election, but for the next generation. She should remember that the public didn’t just vote for a woman in the prime minister’s office; they voted for a leader who might finally do something with it.

The arithmetic of power is hers. The question is whether she has the geometry of statesmanship to match?

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