When in doubt, blame the foreigners. Such is the case in Japan, undergoing a bout of what we’d in the U.S. call “yellow supremacy.” But is it more than an election season ploy to wind up a crowd? Is it a movement or a protest vote?
From its earliest contact with foreigners as dramatized in Shogun, it has been love-hate superimposed on classic xenophobia. During my years in Japan, I remember sitting embarrassed on a crowded train, jam-packed as only Japanese trains can be, with empty seats next to me. No one wanted to rub thighs with a foreigner. I watched taxis zoom past like I was a black man in New York trying to hail a cab uptown from 96th Street. At the same time, I cannot forget an elderly Japanese woman walking several blocks out of her way in the rain to ensure I made it to my destination when neither of us had the language skills fully to communicate directions. It is a strange place, Japan, usually benign and eccentric, albeit occasionally annoying.
But recent developments indicate perhaps a return to the racist side of Japan that saw the wholesale slaughter Christians centuries ago and the stampede through Nanjing killing Chinese, seeing them as not worthy even of conquest and enslavement. The country that gives us Pikachu has a dark side.
An upstart political party gained support in the recent Upper House elections in Japan by railing against a “silent invasion” of immigrants, pushing the government and more middle-of-the-road parties to tackle fears about foreigners as it dragged into the mainstream rhetoric once confined to the political fringe. Birthed on YouTube during the pandemic, where it spread conspiracy theories about vaccinations, the party, Sanseito, recently widened its appeal with a “Japanese First” campaign. They are not alone. Naoki Hyakuta, leader of the minor opposition Conservative Party of Japan, said that foreigners “disrespect Japanese culture, ignore the rules, assault Japanese people, and steal their belongings.” NHK Party leader Takashi Tachibana described black people and people of Islamic background as “scary.” A Komeito party candidate stated, “We’ll deport people staying illegally. We'll say no to the abuse and misuse of refugee applications.”
Sanseito is the biggest player in yellow supremacy. It is headed by Sohei Kamiya, a young politician who models himself after Donald Trump in style and message. Kamiya faced a minor backlash for branding gender equality policies a mistake, as they encourage women to work and keep them from having children. His broader success, however, left many in Japan wondering whether their country is seeing the angry populism that has visited the United States and other democracies. His core message is Japan has put the interests of foreigners over those of its own people.
The message appeals to voters, especially males, frustrated with a weak economy that has lured tourists in record numbers, further driving up prices Japanese can ill-afford. Foreign-born residents in Japan hit a record of about 3.8 million last year. Although that is only three percent of the total population, a tiny fraction compared to the numbers in the U.S., in a homogenous Japan with no sentimental history of immigration to fall back on, it is a lot.
As immigration emerged as a top election issue as driven by Sanseito, a desperate Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba unveiled a new Hail-Mary government taskforce made up of 78 employees, including officials from the Cabinet Office, the Justice Ministry, and other bodies to fight “crimes and disorderly conduct” by foreign nationals as his mainstream party promised to pursue a goal of “zero illegal foreigners.” The goal is wholly unrealistic; the sentiment, however, appeals to a population looking for scapegoats for its failing economy (the proportion of people in Japan who think living conditions are more comfortable than a year ago fell to the lowest level in over 15 years) and changing social mores.
The new task force, formally assuming the pseudo-Orwellian name of Office for the Promotion of a Society of Harmonious Coexistence with Foreign Nationals, will coordinate policies for foreigners. Among the areas it will cover are immigration, land acquisition, and unpaid social insurance. The latter particularly irks many Japanese, who religiously pay into a national health insurance program that basically results in minimum out-of-pocket costs for care, even into old age. Foreigners outside the payment system pay either the highly subsidized rates or simply skip out on large bills. In response, the government said last month it plans to ban tourists and foreign residents with unpaid medical bills from getting a visa or returning to the country. It is unclear how much of a shortfall this change actually addresses, but it is the changing attitude that matters most to the public.
Foreigners are very visible in Japan; they look different, talk loudly, and don’t always follow strict Japanese rules of etiquette. As tourism grows, many travelers have seen Tokyo and Osaka and are now branching out into the countryside in search of new experiences, driven by social media. The influx irritates local residents, whose lives have been disrupted by tourists flocking to their neighborhoods. In response, some tourist sites now have two prices for entry; the one for foreigners is notably higher than the Japanese price. Local officials for a while blocked an Instagram-famous view of Mount Fuji from a convenience store parking lot due to a surge in residents’ complaints of overcrowding. One hot spring resort area warned against low water levels and shut down entry early after foreign visitors demanded private baths, shy about the Japanese communal style. Played as funny anecdotes online abroad, in Japan these rub against local concerns as headline stories.
Some Japanese also blame tourists for driving up prices and contributing to shortages of rice. Protecting nationally grown rice is the third rail of all Japanese politics, and suggestions the current shortages and high prices have anything to do with tourists (they likely do not) are designed to stir up animosity. Coupled with the Trump tariffs, which target agricultural goods like rice, these are fighting words akin to “No Irish Need Apply” signs in 19th century Manhattan. Crime is another issue used to stir up emotions, even though only 5.3 percent of those arrested in 2023 were foreigners.
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The obvious solution is to shut the door to foreigners, as was done in the Sakoku period (Japan's self-imposed policy of national isolation during the Edo period, 1603–1868.) This is unfortunately very costly. “As Japan faces the challenges of a declining birthrate and aging population, it is essential for us to incorporate the vitality of the international community, through the acceptance of a certain number of foreign workers and the expansion of inbound tourism, to ensure a smooth transition to a growth-oriented economy,” Ishiba said. But how?
When actual election results were tallied, Sanseito scored a healthy 14 seats, way up from its pre-election single seat and quite an achievement for a party that did not exist five years ago. Ishiba’s Liberal Democratic Party suffered a major defeat, with voters broadly shifting to more conservative parties, including Sanseito. Ishiba will likely form a coalition excluding Sanseito, but the trend in Japan is not going unnoticed—the mainstream Liberal Democratic Party also suffered an election defeat last year robbing it of a majority in the Lower House.
What’s left for Japan to sort out is whether this anti-foreign sentiment was mostly an election-year ruse, or an echo of history’s darker episodes. Many working-class people face stagnant wages and feel dissatisfaction about inequality, said one Japanese university professor. “They perceive that support is being prioritized for foreigners, and that major political parties are neglecting Japanese taxpayers like themselves,” he said. Culturally, these people may feel “this country will no longer be ours” as the number of foreigners in Japan increases.
