Sanae Takaichi’s ascent to the leadership of Liberal Democratic Party--and with it, the premiership--marks a historic moment in a country that has long lagged on gender equality.

Symbolically, it matters. But her record and platform suggest a widening gap between descriptive representation (who holds power) and substantive representation (what that power is used to do). The risk is that Japan gets the photograph, not the policy.

Political science has long distinguished these concepts. Hanna Pitkin urged us to separate the appearance of representation from the activity of acting for constituents, while Sarah Childs and Mona Lena Krook reminded scholars to look for “critical actors,” not magic numbers--individuals who can move, or stall, policy regardless of gender.

Takaichi’s election boosts visibility but whether she governs as a critical actor for women is what truly matters.

That task would be extraordinarily difficult if Takaichi wanted reform. 

She inherits a political and institutional environment that leaves little room for maneuver. Japan’s entrenched party hierarchies, fiscal constraints and deeply rooted social norms create structural barriers that have frustrated reform-minded leaders of all stripes.

This is a familiar pattern for women who “break the glass ceiling”: they do so only to inherit tougher contexts and narrower margins for genuine change. The symbolism is undeniable; the structure is not on her side. 

But it does not appear that Takaichi intends to change the place of women in Japanese society. She has opposed allowing married couples to retain separate surnames and has shown no support for legal recognition of same-sex marriage--both reforms typically associated with women’s substantive representation in advanced democracies.

Her promise to appoint “Nordic-level” numbers of women to her Cabinet may improve optics, but it cannot substitute for rights-expanding legislation. 

Japan’s structural baseline remains stubbornly poor. The World Economic Forum’s 2025 Global Gender Gap Report ranks Japan 118th out of 148 countries--last among the Group of Seven--with particularly weak scores on political empowerment.

In the Lower House, women hold just 15.7 percent of seats. Under these conditions, elevating one woman to the top job, while welcome, does little to fix the pipeline that determines who writes bills, chairs committees and negotiates budgets. 

Even Japan’s 2018 Gender Parity Law is toothless. It merely encourages parties to field men and women “as evenly as possible,” imposing neither quotas nor penalties.

Predictably, progress has been halting. Without enforceable rules, party gatekeepers and seniority norms continue to filter women out long before they become ministers who can allocate budgets or move statutes.

The labor‑market architecture adds another drag. The notorious “income walls”--a tangle of tax and social‑insurance thresholds around 1.03 million yen, 1.06 million yen and 1.3 million yen--encourage many married women to cap their hours to avoid losing deductions or triggering payroll contributions.

Policymakers have debated fixes and partial expansions of coverage, but the hardest choices have been repeatedly deferred, preserving incentives that trap women in part‑time, low‑progression jobs. That is not family‑friendly policy. It is a structural penalty on ambition.

The lesson from comparative research is clear: female leaders do not automatically deliver women‑friendly policy. Ideology and context matter. Yet, visible women at the helm can shift aspirations--the so-called role‑model effect.

In India’s randomized village‑quota experiments, repeated exposure to women leaders raised girls’ educational attainment and narrowed gender gaps. Japan needs both channels working together: leaders who change laws  and  leaders who change horizons. 

What would it take for Takaichi’s government to turn historic symbolism into real progress?

Three tests stand out.

1) Family law and civil rights. Modernize the Civil Code to allow married couples to have separate surnames and place Japan on a credible path toward legal recognition of same-sex partnerships. These are table‑stakes reforms across peer democracies. Her prior opposition makes this the most revealing test of her willingness to govern beyond symbolism.

2) Eliminate the income walls. Replace the maze of tax and income thresholds with a neutral, earnings‑progressive system that rewards additional work rather than punishing it. If fiscal headwinds make a one‑shot reform impossible, legislate a binding path with annual, indexed adjustments instead of ad hoc patches.

3) Hard targets for political supply. Voluntary exhortation has failed. Parties should adopt binding candidate targets with transparent reporting, prioritize the recruitment and protection of women, and revise internal rules that privilege seniority over performance. Japan’s 2018 law offers the frame: the next government must supply the teeth.

Skeptics will argue that Cabinet composition is substance because ministers control budgets--sometimes. But Japan has already run the “announce first, reform later” playbook.

Womenomics raised expectations without delivering structural change. Vowing “Nordic‑level” Cabinet representation while defending traditionalist social policy is a recipe for disappointment if it isn’t paired with statutory reform and enforcement.

A woman in the Kantei is an overdue milestone. Yet, it will not, by itself, dismantle the barriers that keep most Japanese women out of politics, leadership and high‑earning work. The standard for success should be unambiguous: a government that modernizes family law, dismantles work‑discouraging tax and insurance traps and builds a pipeline that produces many critical actors across parties.

Anything less is symbolism masquerading as progress.

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Charles Crabtree is an assistant professor in the Department of Government at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire.