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Is Japan ready for its first female PM?

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Sanae Takaichi

Japan has never confronted the raw contradiction inherent in its postwar democracy: a nation reconstructed from devastation, yet shackled by entrenched hierarchies that dictate who may wield authority. The first week of next month, however, a singular possibility emerges. Sanae Takaichi, former economic security minister and unflinching conservative, positions herself as the foremost contender to assume the premiership, an office long monopolised by men. Her candidacy is not merely symbolic; it exposes the fissures in Japan’s political system, its gender inequities, and the enduring influence of historical power brokers, while raising profound questions about legitimacy, merit, and risk in governance.

Takaichi’s ascent is neither conventional nor superficial. Born in 1961 in Nara Prefecture, she briefly explored entertainment before committing to political life. Her studies at Kobe University were complemented by exposure to American legislative procedures as an aide in the U.S. House of Representatives—an experience that endowed her with strategic insight unusual among Japanese lawmakers. Entering the Diet in 1993, she quickly manoeuvred the LDP’s factional matrix, becoming a protégé of Shinzo Abe, whose influence and legacy continue to bolster her standing. This mentorship, combined with her skill at coalition-building within the party, positions her as a candidate with both institutional acumen and grassroots resonance.

Takaichi is resolute. She is an unapologetic nationalist, frequenting the Yasukuni Shrine and advocating constitutional revision to formally recognise the Self-Defense Forces. These positions signal loyalty to the LDP’s conservative base while simultaneously provoking unease in China and South Korea, for whom such gestures evoke historical trauma. Yet Takaichi’s platform is not monolithic. Recently, she has articulated policies addressing Japan’s persistent gender inequities: partial tax deductions for childcare, corporate incentives for in-house care, and advocacy around women’s health informed by her personal experience with menopause and caregiving responsibilities. In these measures, she manages the tension between ideological orthodoxy and pragmatic responsiveness.

Takaichi distinguishes herself as a fiscal dove, advocating government expenditure to counter inflationary pressures while signalling the possible necessity of issuing government bonds under exigent circumstances. Her public remarks last week, warning that reliance on tax revenue alone may be insufficient to combat rising consumer prices, reflect a willingness to confront Japan’s entrenched bureaucratic orthodoxy. Historically, such boldness echoes the fiscal interventions of the Abe administration, whose policies were partly facilitated by covert CIA funding and Cold War-era machinations to stabilise Japan against leftist influence.

Takaichi’s political biography is punctuated by moments that reveal both resilience and calculated audacity. In the 2024 LDP leadership contest, she narrowly lost to Shigeru Ishiba in a runoff, illustrating her capacity to command substantial support even in a field dominated by male elders. Her repeated candidacies reflect strategic patience and an understanding of the party’s factional undercurrents, where loyalty networks, not merely public opinion, determine outcomes. Unlike Shinjiro Koizumi, whose political capital derives from dynastic inheritance, Takaichi’s influence rests on cultivated alliances and personal reputation—a precarious but potentially liberating position in a system long dominated by hereditary claims.

The broader context magnifies the stakes. Japan continues to rank dismally on the World Economic Forum’s Gender Gap Index, placing 118th among 148 countries, with women representing only 15.7% of the lower house. No woman has ever held the prime ministership, the finance ministry, or the governorship of the Bank of Japan. Internationally, a female premier would alter perceptions of Japan’s modernity and commitment to inclusivity, but domestically, her tenure could be precarious. Scholars such as Hiroko Takeda of Nagoya University caution against the “glass cliff” phenomenon, where women ascend to leadership precisely during periods of instability, only to bear disproportionate blame for systemic failures. With the LDP weakened after consecutive electoral setbacks, the next prime minister will face a fractured legislature, rising inflation, and geopolitical tensions that demand deft negotiation with both domestic opposition and international actors.

Takaichi’s potential premiership would also engage the unresolved dialectic between conservatism and modernisation. Her hardline stances on nationalism and security are juxtaposed with nascent advocacy for gender-sensitive economic policies—tax breaks for childcare and protections for caregivers. This duality challenges simplistic classifications of her as merely reactionary or progressive; she embodies a calculated hybridity, presenting an image palatable to conservative party elders while cautiously courting broader urban and younger constituencies. Such strategic adaptability has precedents in Japan’s political history, where leaders like Hayashi and Motegi addressed factional rivalries and bureaucratic resistance. Yet Takaichi’s gender introduces an additional dimension of scrutiny, both domestic and international.

The historical resonance of her candidacy is equally compelling. Postwar Japan, emerging from the devastation of World War II, was shepherded into democracy under Allied supervision, with American authorities even influencing the structure of political parties and suppressing leftist movements—some through clandestine financial support for conservative actors. The LDP’s early hegemony owes, in part, to these interventions, which entrenched a culture of factionalism and male-dominated hierarchy that persists today. Takaichi’s rise, therefore, is not simply the ascension of a single politician; it is a confrontation with the enduring legacies of occupation-era manipulation, factional patronage, and institutional gender bias.

Furthermore, Takaichi’s personal narrative lends an uncommon dimension to her candidacy. Her experiences juggling professional obligations with caregiving responsibilities resonate with a substantial segment of Japanese society, particularly women who face structural impediments to career advancement.

By invoking her struggles with menopause and child-rearing, she frames policy debates in human terms, challenging the traditional detachment of Japanese policymaking from lived experience. In doing so, she redefines what leadership might entail in a society where policy and personal experience are often segregated.

Yet controversy is inseparable from possibility. Takaichi’s unapologetic nationalism and engagement with historically sensitive issues, such as Yasukuni visits and advocacy for Taiwan security partnerships, have drawn criticism from neighbouring states and some domestic moderates. Analysts note that any failure on her part could reinforce misogynistic narratives, portraying her tenure as a deterrent example rather than a step towards inclusivity. Conversely, a successful premiership would not merely be symbolic; it would recalibrate power dynamics within the LDP, potentially encouraging a generation of women to pursue political office in a system historically structured against them.

Ultimately, the question of whether Japan is prepared for a female prime minister transcends Takaichi herself. It interrogates the resilience of democratic institutions in a party-dominated polity, the elasticity of entrenched gender norms, and the capacity of voters and politicians alike to reconcile ideological conservatism with the exigencies of modern governance. Sanae Takaichi’s candidacy is at once emblematic and exceptional: emblematic of the LDP’s enduring factional machinery and exceptional for its potential to disrupt decades of patriarchal orthodoxy. Her rise is simultaneously a challenge to the established order, a reckoning with history, and a speculative exercise in political futurism. Will Japan finally elevate a woman to prime minister, or will entrenched norms keep Takaichi in the realm of “almosts”? We shall know in just a few days.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa ✍️

 



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How Black Civil Rights leaders strengthen democracy in the US

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Jesse Jackson / Barack Obama

On being elected US President in 2008, Barack Obama famously stated: ‘Change has come to America’. Considering the questions continuing to grow out of the status of minority rights in particular in the US, this declaration by the former US President could come to be seen as somewhat premature by some. However, there could be no doubt that the election of Barack Obama to the US presidency proved that democracy in the US is to a considerable degree inclusive and accommodating.

If this were not so, Barack Obama, an Afro-American politician, would never have been elected President of the US. Obama was exceptionally capable, charismatic and eloquent but these qualities alone could not have paved the way for his victory. On careful reflection it could be said that the solid groundwork laid by indefatigable Black Civil Rights activists in the US of the likes of Martin Luther King (Jnr) and Jesse Jackson, who passed away just recently, went a great distance to enable Obama to come to power and that too for two terms. Obama is on record as owning to the profound influence these Civil Rights leaders had on his career.

The fact is that these Civil Rights activists and Obama himself spoke to the hearts and minds of most Americans and convinced them of the need for democratic inclusion in the US. They, in other words, made a convincing case for Black rights. Above all, their struggles were largely peaceful.

Their reasoning resonated well with the thinking sections of the US who saw them as subscribers to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, for instance, which made a lucid case for mankind’s equal dignity. That is, ‘all human beings are equal in dignity.’

It may be recalled that Martin Luther King (Jnr.) famously declared: ‘I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live out the true meaning of its creed….We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’

Jesse Jackson vied unsuccessfully to be a Democratic Party presidential candidate twice but his energetic campaigns helped to raise public awareness about the injustices and material hardships suffered by the black community in particular. Obama, we now know, worked hard at grass roots level in the run-up to his election. This experience proved invaluable in his efforts to sensitize the public to the harsh realities of the depressed sections of US society.

Cynics are bound to retort on reading the foregoing that all the good work done by the political personalities in question has come to nought in the US; currently administered by Republican hard line President Donald Trump. Needless to say, minority communities are now no longer welcome in the US and migrants are coming to be seen as virtual outcasts who need to be ‘shown the door’ . All this seems to be happening in so short a while since the Democrats were voted out of office at the last presidential election.

However, the last US presidential election was not free of controversy and the lesson is far too easily forgotten that democratic development is a process that needs to be persisted with. In a vital sense it is ‘a journey’ that encounters huge ups and downs. More so why it must be judiciously steered and in the absence of such foresighted managing the democratic process could very well run aground and this misfortune is overtaking the US to a notable extent.

The onus is on the Democratic Party and other sections supportive of democracy to halt the US’ steady slide into authoritarianism and white supremacist rule. They would need to demonstrate the foresight, dexterity and resourcefulness of the Black leaders in focus. In the absence of such dynamic political activism, the steady decline of the US as a major democracy cannot be prevented.

From the foregoing some important foreign policy issues crop-up for the global South in particular. The US’ prowess as the ‘world’s mightiest democracy’ could be called in question at present but none could doubt the flexibility of its governance system. The system’s inclusivity and accommodative nature remains and the possibility could not be ruled out of the system throwing up another leader of the stature of Barack Obama who could to a great extent rally the US public behind him in the direction of democratic development. In the event of the latter happening, the US could come to experience a democratic rejuvenation.

The latter possibilities need to be borne in mind by politicians of the South in particular. The latter have come to inherit a legacy of Non-alignment and this will stand them in good stead; particularly if their countries are bankrupt and helpless, as is Sri Lanka’s lot currently. They cannot afford to take sides rigorously in the foreign relations sphere but Non-alignment should not come to mean for them an unreserved alliance with the major powers of the South, such as China. Nor could they come under the dictates of Russia. For, both these major powers that have been deferentially treated by the South over the decades are essentially authoritarian in nature and a blind tie-up with them would not be in the best interests of the South, going forward.

However, while the South should not ruffle its ties with the big powers of the South it would need to ensure that its ties with the democracies of the West in particular remain intact in a flourishing condition. This is what Non-alignment, correctly understood, advises.

Accordingly, considering the US’ democratic resilience and its intrinsic strengths, the South would do well to be on cordial terms with the US as well. A Black presidency in the US has after all proved that the US is not predestined, so to speak, to be a country for only the jingoistic whites. It could genuinely be an all-inclusive, accommodative democracy and by virtue of these characteristics could be an inspiration for the South.

However, political leaders of the South would need to consider their development options very judiciously. The ‘neo-liberal’ ideology of the West need not necessarily be adopted but central planning and equity could be brought to the forefront of their talks with Western financial institutions. Dexterity in diplomacy would prove vital.

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Grown: Rich remnants from two countries

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Mirissa (Image courtesy Wikivoyage)

Whispers of Lanka

I was born in a hamlet on the western edge of a tiny teacup bay named Mirissa on the South Coast of Sri Lanka. My childhood was very happy and secure. I played with my cousins and friends on the dusty village roads. We had a few toys to play with, so we always improvised our own games. On rainy days, the village roads became small rivulets on which we sailed paper boats. We could walk from someone’s backyard to another, and there were no fences. We had the freedom to explore the surrounding hills, valleys, and streams.

I was good at school and often helped my classmates with their lessons. I passed the General Certificate of Education (Ordinary Level) at the village school and went to Colombo to study for the General Certificate of Education (Advanced Level). However, I did not like Colombo, and every weekend I hurried back to the village. I was not particularly interested in my studies and struggled in specific subjects. But my teachers knew that I was intelligent and encouraged me to study hard.

To my amazement, I passed the Advanced Level, entered the University of Kelaniya, completed an honours degree in Economics, taught for a few months at a central college, became a lecturer at the same university, and later joined the Department of Census and Statistics as a statistician. Then I went to the University of Wales in the UK to study for an MSc.

The interactions with other international students in my study group, along with very positive recommendations from my professors, helped me secure several jobs in the oil-rich Middle Eastern countries, where I earned salaries unimaginable in Sri Lankan terms. During this period, without much thought, I entered a life focused on material possessions, social status, and excessive consumerism.

Life changes

Unfortunately, this comfortable, enjoyable life changed drastically in the mid-1980s because of the political activities of certain groups. Radicalised youths, brainwashed and empowered by the dynamics of vibrant leftist politics, killed political opponents as well as ordinary people who were reluctant to follow their orders. Their violent methods frightened a large section of Sri Lanka’s middle class into reluctantly accepting country-wide closures of schools, factories, businesses, and government offices.

My father’s generation felt a deep obligation to honour the sacrifices they had made to give us everything we had. There was a belief that you made it in life through your education, and that if you had to work hard, you did. Although I had never seriously considered emigration before, our sons’ education was paramount, and we left Sri Lanka.

Although there were regulations on what could be brought in, migrating to Sydney in the 1980s offered a more relaxed airport experience, with simpler security, a strong presence of airline staff, and a more formal atmosphere. As we were relocating permanently, a few weeks before our departure, we had organised a container to transport sentimental belongings from our home. Our flight baggage was minimal, which puzzled the customs officer, but he laughed when he saw another bulky item on a separate trolley. It was a large box containing a bookshelf purchased in Singapore. Upon discovering that a new migrant family was arriving in Australia with a 32-volume Encyclopaedia Britannica set weighing approximately 250 kilograms, he became cheerful, relaxed his jaw, and said, G’day!

Settling in Sydney

We settled in Epping, Sydney, and enrolled our sons in Epping Boys’ High School. Within one week of our arrival from Sri Lanka, we both found jobs: my wife in her usual accounting position in the private sector, and I was taken on by the Civil Aviation Authority (CAA). While working at the CAA, I sat the Australian Graduate Admission Test. I secured a graduate position with the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) in Canberra, ACT.

We bought a house in Florey, close to my office in Belconnen. The roads near the house were eerily quiet. Back in my hometown of Pelawatta, outside Colombo, my life had a distinct soundtrack. I woke up every morning to the radios blasting ‘pirith’ from the nearby houses; the music of the bread delivery van announcing its arrival, an old man was muttering wild curses to someone while setting up his thambili cart near the junction, free-ranging ‘pariah’ dogs were barking at every moving thing and shadows. Even the wildlife was noisy- black crows gathered on the branches of the mango tree in front of the house to perform a mournful dirge in the morning.

Our Australian neighbours gave us good advice and guidance, and we gradually settled in. If one of the complaints about Asians is that they “won’t join in or integrate to the same degree as Australians do,”  this did not apply to us! We never attempted to become Aussies; that was impossible because we didn’t have tanned skin, hazel eyes, or blonde hair, but we did join in the Australian way of life. Having a beer with my next-door neighbour on the weekend and a biannual get-together with the residents of the lane became a routine. Walking or cycling ten kilometres around the Ginninderra Lake with a fit-fanatic of a neighbour was a weekly ritual that I rarely skipped.

Almost every year, early in the New Year, we went to the South Coast. My family and two of our best friends shared a rented house near the beach for a week. There’s not much to do except mix with lots of families with kids, dogs on the beach, lazy days in the sun with a barbecue and a couple of beers in the evening, watching golden sunsets. When you think about Australian summer holidays, that’s all you really need, and that’s all we had!

Caught between two cultures

We tried to hold on to our national tradition of warm hospitality by organising weekend meals with our friends. Enticed by the promise of my wife’s home-cooked feast, our Sri Lankan friends would congregate at our place. Each family would also bring a special dish of food to share. Our house would be crammed with my friends, their spouses and children, the sound of laughter and loud chatter – English mingled with Sinhala – and the aroma of spicy food.

We loved the togetherness, the feeling of never being alone, and the deep sense of belonging within the community. That doesn’t mean I had no regrets in my Australian lifestyle, no matter how trivial they may have seemed. I would have seen migration to another country only as a change of abode and employment, and I would rarely have expected it to bring about far greater changes to my psychological role and identity. In Sri Lanka, I have grown to maturity within a society with rigid demarcation lines between academic, professional, and other groups.

Furthermore, the transplantation from a patriarchal society where family bonds were essential to a culture where individual pursuit of happiness tended to undermine traditional values was a difficult one for me. While I struggled with my changing role, my sons quickly adopted the behaviour and aspirations of their Australian peers. A significant part of our sons’ challenges lay in their being the first generation of Sri Lankan-Australians.

The uniqueness of the responsibilities they discovered while growing up in Australia, and with their parents coming from another country, required them to play a linguistic mediator role, and we, as parents, had to play the cultural mediator role. They were more gregarious and adaptive than we were, and consequently, there was an instant, unrestrained immersion in cultural diversity and plurality.

Technology

They became articulate spokesmen for young Australians growing up in a world where information technology and transactions have become faster, more advanced, and much more widespread. My work in the ABS for nearly twenty years has followed cycles, from data collection, processing, quality assurance, and analysis to mapping, research, and publishing. As the work was mainly computer-based and required assessing and interrogating large datasets, I often had to depend heavily on in-house software developers and mainframe programmers.  Over that time, I have worked in several areas of the ABS, making a valuable contribution and gaining a wide range of experience in national accounting.

I immensely valued the unbiased nature of my work, in which the ABS strived to inform its readers without the influence of public opinion or government decisions. It made me proud to work for an organisation that had a high regard for quality, accuracy, and confidentiality. I’m not exaggerating, but it is one of the world’s best statistical organisations! I rubbed shoulders with the greatest statistical minds. The value of this experience was that it enabled me to secure many assignments in Vanuatu, Fiji, East Timor, Saudi Arabia, and the Solomon Islands through the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund after I left the ABS.

Living in Australia

Studying and living in Australia gave my sons ample opportunities to realise that their success depended not on acquiring material wealth but on building human capital. They discovered that it was the sum total of their skills embodied within them: education, intelligence, creativity, work experience and even the ability to play basketball and cricket competitively. They knew it was what they would be left with if someone stripped away all of their assets. So they did their best to pursue their careers on that path and achieve their life goals. Of course, the healthy Australian economy mattered too. As an economist said, “A strong economy did not transform a valet parking attendant into a professor. Investment in human capital did that.”

Nostalgia

After living in Australia for several decades, do I miss Sri Lanka? Which country deserves my preference, the one where I was born or the one to which I migrated? There is no single answer; it depends on opportunities, prospects, lifestyle, and family. Factors such as the cost of living, healthcare, climate, and culture also play significant roles in shaping this preference. Tradition in a slow-motion place like Sri Lanka is an ethical code based on honouring those who do things the same way you do, and dishonour those who don’t. However, in Australia, one has the freedom to express oneself, to debate openly, to hold unconventional views, to be more immune to peer pressure, and not to have one’s every action scrutinised and discussed.

For many years, I have navigated the challenges of cultural differences, conflicting values, and the constant negotiation of where I truly ‘belong.’ Instead of yearning for a ‘dream home’ where I once lived, I have struggled, and to some extent succeeded, to find a home where I live now. This does not mean I have forgotten or discarded my roots. As one Sri Lankan-Australian senior executive remarked, “I have not restricted myself to the box I came in… I was not the ethnicity, skin colour, or lack thereof, of the typical Australian… but that has been irrelevant to my ability to contribute to the things which are important to me and to the country adopted by me.”  Now, why do I live where I live – in that old house in Florey? I love the freshness of the air, away from the city smog, noisy traffic, and fumes. I enjoy walking in the evening along the tree-lined avenues and footpaths in my suburb, and occasionally I see a kangaroo hopping along the nature strip. I like the abundance of trees and birds singing at my back door. There are many species of birds in the area, but a common link with ours is the melodious warbling of resident magpies. My wife has been feeding them for several years, and we see the new fledglings every year.  At first light and in the evening, they walk up to the back door and sing for their meal. The magpie is an Australian icon, and I think its singing is one of the most melodious sounds in the suburban areas and even more so in the bush.

 by Siri Ipalawatte

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Big scene for models…

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Modelling has turned out to be a big scene here and now there are lots of opportunities for girls and boys to excel as models.

Of course, one can’t step onto the ramp without proper training, and training should be in the hands of those who are aware of what modelling is all about.

Rukmal Senanayake is very much in the news these days and his Model With Ruki – Model Academy & Agency – is responsible for bringing into the limelight, not only upcoming models but also contestants participating in beauty pageants, especially internationally.

On the 29th of January, this year, it was a vibrant scene at the Temple Trees Auditorium, in Colombo, when Rukmal introduced the Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt.

Tharaka Gurukanda … in
the scene with Rukmal

This is the second Model Hunt to be held in Sri Lanka; the first was in 2023, at Nelum Pokuna, where over 150 models were able to showcase their skills at one of the largest fashion ramps in Sri Lanka.

The concept was created by Rukmal Senanayake and co-founded by Tharaka Gurukanda.

Future Model Hunt, is the only Southeast Asian fashion show for upcoming models, and designers, to work along and create a career for their future.

The Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt, which showcased two segments, brought into the limelight several models, including students of Ruki’s Model Academy & Agency and those who are established as models.

An enthusiastic audience was kept spellbound by the happenings on the ramp.

Doing it differently

Four candidates were also crowned, at this prestigious event, and they will represent Sri Lanka at the respective international pageants.

Those who missed the Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt, held last month, can look forward to another exciting Future Model Hunt event, scheduled for the month of May, 2026, where, I’m told, over 150 models will walk the ramp, along with several designers.

It will be held at a prime location in Colombo with an audience count, expected to be over 2000.

Model With Ruki offers training for ramp modelling and beauty pageants and other professional modelling areas.

Their courses cover: Ramp walk techniques, Posture and grooming, Pose and expression, Runway etiquette, and Photo shoots and portfolio building,

They prepare models for local and international fashion events, shoots, and competitions and even send models abroad for various promotional events.

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