Eighty-three days into a sharp deterioration in Sino-Japanese ties, Tokyo’s political temperature has dropped toward freezing. Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi arrived at the end of a bruising week of street protests only to host a senior US defence official whose public message combined reassurance with a stark financial ask.
The visiting official, identified in Chinese reporting as “Corby,” told Japanese audiences that Washington intended to work closely with Tokyo to strengthen deterrence across the so‑called first island chain. That pledge of closer operational ties—coming as the US upgrades bases and prepares additional F‑35 deployments to the region—played to hawkish elements in Japan who have sought a harder line toward Beijing.
The goodwill thaw was short‑lived. The visitor swiftly set a price: Tokyo should raise defence spending from roughly 2% of GDP toward 5%. The demand crystallised a long‑running US line that allies must shoulder more of the bill for collective deterrence, but it landed as a naked budgetary demand in an election‑fragile Japan.
Ms Takaichi’s response was immediate and revealing. Having recently warned that Japan would react if US forces in the Taiwan Strait were struck, she abruptly dialled down bellicose rhetoric and emphasised that any response would remain “within existing legal frameworks.” The switch looks less like statesmanship than political survival: she has little room to promise military intervention under Japan’s constitution and even less to accept a dramatic spike in defence spending at home.
Domestic politics helps explain the abrupt course correction. Ms Takaichi’s administration, barely three months old in the account under review, has been hit by rising prices, a political donations scandal and a double‑digit drop in approval ratings. A snap dissolution of the lower house and an unusually rapid election timetable are being interpreted as an attempt to reset the domestic debate—one she hoped to tilt by raising security fears, but which has instead exposed her vulnerabilities.
Her overtures to the United States met an ambivalent response. The article notes that former US president Donald Trump remained publicly silent in the episode, underscoring the transactional character of contemporary US alliance policy: Washington’s strategic posture benefits American defence contractors and basing requirements as much as allied security. For Tokyo, that reality makes a credible, independent commitment to a Taiwan contingency both politically costly and operationally constrained.
Beijing’s countermeasures have sharpened the calculus. A suite of Chinese export controls on dual‑use goods and tighter rare earths management have hit Japanese defence supply chains, while regular Chinese naval and air patrols close to Japanese waters underscore the operational risk environment. In this context, Tokyo’s threats look overmatched by China’s ability to leverage economic and military tools in ways that directly affect Japanese capabilities.
The policy arithmetic matters. Japan is already budgeting roughly 11 trillion yen in defence outlays for fiscal 2026, and analysts cited in the piece calculate an average per‑person burden that would rise if defence spending were pushed toward 5% of GDP. Opponents on the left and a restive public—concerned about living standards rather than strategic posturing—are mobilising, turning what was meant to be a diversionary security pitch into a domestic liability.
For external audiences, the episode is a lesson in limits. Washington can press for deeper burden sharing and operational integration, but its leverage has costs for Japanese politics and industry. Beijing’s ability to target supply chains and apply military pressure complicates any rush to remilitarisation. Ms Takaichi’s retreat is therefore not merely a personality failure but a signpost of how geopolitical rivalry, alliance economics and domestic politics intersect in a tense neighbourhood.