Politics in Japan can be a staid affair. The race to become the governor of Tokyo, which reached its climax on July 7th, was anything but that. Fifty-six candidates, many of them eccentrics, traded barbs. Pets featured on election posters; so, in one case, did pornography. A candidate dressed as the Joker from “Batman” spouted nonsense on national television. Another took off her clothes.
In the end Koike Yuriko, the incumbent governor, bagged herself a third term with some 43% of votes. Yet it was the second-place finisher—Ishimaru Shinji, an outspoken but little-known former banker—who stole the headlines. Up to now, Japanese voters have seemed curiously unmoved by the kinds of social-media-fuelled populism that have upturned politics in other countries. That no longer seems so true.
Most people expected that the race would be a head-to-head between Ms Koike, a former national legislator for the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) and Saito Renho from the Constitutional Democratic Party (CDP), the main liberal opposition (who goes by just her given name). Both Ms Koike and Renho gained fame as television newsreaders before they entered politics. Yet relative obscurity was no obstacle for Mr Ishimaru. His brief political career—four years as mayor of Akitakata, an unremarkable town in Hiroshima—did not produce any noteworthy achievements. His candidacy was not backed by any political party.
Instead, the 41-year-old used social media, especially YouTube and TikTok, to convey his messages. On YouTube Mr Ishimaru broadcast to around 300,000 subscribers, compared with 3,000 for Ms Koike and 10,000 for Renho. A video that showed him berating a snoozing council member in Akitakata went viral. He promised to clear out power-hungry politicians and mocked journalists from mainstream media. In a post-election appearance he accused an interviewer of asking “stupid” questions while a crowd of supporters cheered. Mr Ishimaru “mastered an important social-media skill”, says Michael Cucek of Temple University in Tokyo. He appeared to “speak the truth to power when in fact just spouting negative nonsense”.
For years voters in Japan have seemed to be mired in apathy. The LDP has dominated politics for a decade. Turnout at elections has declined. But Mr Ishimaru’s strong showing suggests both that there is appetite for change, and that social media can indeed provide a path for outsiders. According to one exit poll he snatched 42% of the votes of people aged 18-29, compared with 27% for Ms Koike and 15% for Renho. “Most politicians say they care about young people, but I don’t think they mean it,” says Kiyono Misato, a 28-year-old who voted for Mr Ishimaru. She thought Mr Ishimaru “would be different”.
Japanese voters are “fed up with existing politics” and feel “growing mistrust”, reckons Uchiyama Yu, a political scientist at the University of Tokyo. Social-media rabble-rousers such as Mr Ishimaru will find it more difficult to make a dent in national elections than in local ones. They find it much harder to impress older, rural voters than young ones in cities. But that will not stop them from trying. After the election, Mr Ishimaru told journalists he may contest the seat in parliament that is currently held by Kishida Fumio, Japan’s unpopular prime minister.
Ms Koike’s victory, at least, is a relief for the LDP. But by-elections for the Tokyo assembly were held the same day as the vote for governor, and in those the LDP won just two seats out of nine. “The results are very severe,” says Mutai Shunsuke, an LDP politician in the national parliament. Mr Kishida’s approval rating may be as low as 16%, according to polling by Jiji, a newswire. Rivals are preparing to challenge his leadership at a party vote due in September.
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