They want to ‘make Japan great again’—but is it a step forward or backwards?
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Japan has long had a fascination with imported American culture.
From baseball diamonds to rock concerts, trends from the US have often struck a powerful chord with Japanese audiences.
Now, a new—and far more controversial—import appears to be taking root: Trump-style right-wing populism.
Echoing the rise of conservative figures like Javier Milei in Argentina and Giorgia Meloni in Italy, Japan’s nationalist party Sanseito has emerged as a potent political force.
In a stunning upset during the 2025 upper house election, Sanseito jumped from just two seats to 15, upending the balance of power after Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba’s coalition lost its majority.
Founded only five years ago, the party’s rapid rise has stirred national debate by mimicking slogans and strategies from Donald Trump’s Make America Great Again movement, Germany’s AfD, and Reform UK.
Led by 47-year-old Sohei Kamiya, a former teacher and supermarket manager, Sanseito calls for tighter immigration controls, resistance to globalism, and a rollback of gender, climate, and vaccine policies.
‘Too many newcomers equals crime, rising housing costs, dangerous driving—and, critically, suppressed wages,’ Kamiya said.
‘It’s fine if they visit as tourists, but if you take in more and more foreigners, saying they’re cheap labour, then Japanese people’s wages won’t rise.
‘We are not exclusionary. We have never called to drive out foreigners.’
Despite his claims, online fact-checkers have flagged several dubious statistics circulated by the group’s supporters—such as unverified claims that foreigners generate nearly $3 billion in unpaid medical bills or that Chinese welfare recipients have doubled in five years.
Still, the appeal of Kamiya’s message is clear. Many working-class Japanese voters have grown weary of what they perceive as elitist, left-wing politics that prioritise climate goals and diversity over bread-and-butter issues like inflation and employment.
‘They put into words what I had been thinking about but couldn’t put into words for many years,’ said a 44-year-old IT worker on a short-term contract. ‘When foreigners go to university, the Japanese government provides subsidies to them, but when we were going to university, everyone had huge debts.’
For decades, Japan’s workforce has laboured under intense pressure and long hours—only to face stagnant wages and bleak career prospects.
That disillusionment has proven fertile ground for Sanseito’s populist rhetoric, even though polling indicates most voters prioritise economic concerns over immigration.
Japan’s immigration intake remains one of the smallest among developed nations.
Nonetheless, Sanseito has drawn attention for playing into common anxieties, including hosting pro-Russian interviews via state media and criticising decarbonisation efforts.
Kamiya denied being a Moscow mouthpiece, but said: ‘Russia’s military invasion (of Ukraine) was of course bad, but there are forces in the United States that drove Russia into doing that.’
Analysts from the Japan Institute of Law and Information Systems warned of foreign influence meddling in the political discourse, including large-scale manipulation campaigns by Russian bot networks and AI-generated propaganda.
Sanseito’s rise has not gone unchallenged.
Demonstrators rallied in Tokyo’s Shinjuku district in a ‘protest rave against racism’ ahead of the upper house vote.
Eight NGOs, backed by over 1,000 organisations, also condemned the party’s platform, warning it veered dangerously close to xenophobia.
Yet the ruling LDP party, sensing the political tide, responded quickly—vowing a crackdown on undocumented foreigners and a goal of ‘zero illegal foreign nationals’.
That pivot prompted further backlash from civil society groups, who insisted the narrative that ‘foreigners are prioritised’ was baseless and harmful.
As frustration simmers among disenchanted wage-earners, the battle for Japan’s political future is shaping into a fight over nationalism, misinformation, and who gets to define the nation’s priorities.
Populist movements often rely on emotional messaging and simple slogans to gain traction—but there’s a growing trend in how that message is being delivered.
As technology evolves, so too does the way political campaigns are crafted and consumed, with artificial intelligence playing a much bigger role than many realise.
One recent example shows just how powerful—and potentially unsettling—AI-driven messaging can be in shaping voter opinion.
Read more: AI-made campaign video transforms politics, influencing your vote
Could a populist wave truly reshape Japan’s politics—or will voters push back before it’s too late?
From baseball diamonds to rock concerts, trends from the US have often struck a powerful chord with Japanese audiences.
Now, a new—and far more controversial—import appears to be taking root: Trump-style right-wing populism.
Echoing the rise of conservative figures like Javier Milei in Argentina and Giorgia Meloni in Italy, Japan’s nationalist party Sanseito has emerged as a potent political force.
In a stunning upset during the 2025 upper house election, Sanseito jumped from just two seats to 15, upending the balance of power after Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba’s coalition lost its majority.
Founded only five years ago, the party’s rapid rise has stirred national debate by mimicking slogans and strategies from Donald Trump’s Make America Great Again movement, Germany’s AfD, and Reform UK.
Sanseito’s surge shakes Japan’s political landscape. Image source: Pexels/cottonbro studio
Disclaimer: This is a stock image used for illustrative purposes only and does not depict the actual person, item, or event described.
Disclaimer: This is a stock image used for illustrative purposes only and does not depict the actual person, item, or event described.
Led by 47-year-old Sohei Kamiya, a former teacher and supermarket manager, Sanseito calls for tighter immigration controls, resistance to globalism, and a rollback of gender, climate, and vaccine policies.
‘Too many newcomers equals crime, rising housing costs, dangerous driving—and, critically, suppressed wages,’ Kamiya said.
‘It’s fine if they visit as tourists, but if you take in more and more foreigners, saying they’re cheap labour, then Japanese people’s wages won’t rise.
‘We are not exclusionary. We have never called to drive out foreigners.’
Despite his claims, online fact-checkers have flagged several dubious statistics circulated by the group’s supporters—such as unverified claims that foreigners generate nearly $3 billion in unpaid medical bills or that Chinese welfare recipients have doubled in five years.
Still, the appeal of Kamiya’s message is clear. Many working-class Japanese voters have grown weary of what they perceive as elitist, left-wing politics that prioritise climate goals and diversity over bread-and-butter issues like inflation and employment.
‘They put into words what I had been thinking about but couldn’t put into words for many years,’ said a 44-year-old IT worker on a short-term contract. ‘When foreigners go to university, the Japanese government provides subsidies to them, but when we were going to university, everyone had huge debts.’
For decades, Japan’s workforce has laboured under intense pressure and long hours—only to face stagnant wages and bleak career prospects.
That disillusionment has proven fertile ground for Sanseito’s populist rhetoric, even though polling indicates most voters prioritise economic concerns over immigration.
Japan’s immigration intake remains one of the smallest among developed nations.
Nonetheless, Sanseito has drawn attention for playing into common anxieties, including hosting pro-Russian interviews via state media and criticising decarbonisation efforts.
Kamiya denied being a Moscow mouthpiece, but said: ‘Russia’s military invasion (of Ukraine) was of course bad, but there are forces in the United States that drove Russia into doing that.’
Analysts from the Japan Institute of Law and Information Systems warned of foreign influence meddling in the political discourse, including large-scale manipulation campaigns by Russian bot networks and AI-generated propaganda.
Sanseito’s rise has not gone unchallenged.
Demonstrators rallied in Tokyo’s Shinjuku district in a ‘protest rave against racism’ ahead of the upper house vote.
Eight NGOs, backed by over 1,000 organisations, also condemned the party’s platform, warning it veered dangerously close to xenophobia.
Yet the ruling LDP party, sensing the political tide, responded quickly—vowing a crackdown on undocumented foreigners and a goal of ‘zero illegal foreign nationals’.
That pivot prompted further backlash from civil society groups, who insisted the narrative that ‘foreigners are prioritised’ was baseless and harmful.
As frustration simmers among disenchanted wage-earners, the battle for Japan’s political future is shaping into a fight over nationalism, misinformation, and who gets to define the nation’s priorities.
Populist movements often rely on emotional messaging and simple slogans to gain traction—but there’s a growing trend in how that message is being delivered.
As technology evolves, so too does the way political campaigns are crafted and consumed, with artificial intelligence playing a much bigger role than many realise.
One recent example shows just how powerful—and potentially unsettling—AI-driven messaging can be in shaping voter opinion.
Read more: AI-made campaign video transforms politics, influencing your vote
Could a populist wave truly reshape Japan’s politics—or will voters push back before it’s too late?
