TOKYO — It is not too dramatic to say that Japan has only 12 years left to secure its future. By 2038, Chinese President Xi Jinping will be 85 years old. As long as he remains healthy, it is difficult to imagine that he would abandon the ambition of fully absorbing Taiwan into China. Japan, therefore, has a dozen years at most, to prevent moves in this direction. Whether it succeeds or fails would decisively shape its own fate.
Japan can no longer assume that time is on its side. Twelve years pass quickly. In 2014, Japan had already secured its role as host of the 2020 Olympic Games. That still feels recent, yet the world has changed profoundly since then. Geopolitical time now moves far faster than public awareness.
If Japan wishes to preserve its strategic autonomy, it must be able to explain convincingly why it cannot and should not fall under China’s influence. A crucial first step is to recognize that Japan’s postwar strategic framework has become obsolete. Such an acknowledgment has implications for politics, economics, alliance management and even constitutional arrangements.
For decades, Japan defined itself as a pacifist state. It upheld its pledge not to acquire nuclear weapons, refrained from exporting arms and behaved impeccably at the United Nations. It sought to be liked by all countries, China included. During China’s “reform and opening up,” Japan channeled massive amounts of investment into the country.
That posture served its purpose. It reassured regional neighbors and positioned Japan favorably during an era of expanding globalization. But that era has ended. While the principles Japan upheld throughout the postwar period were not inherently mistaken, restraint now carries growing strategic costs. Reliance on multilateral legitimacy — particularly through the United Nations — is becoming a source of weakness as multilateral institutions fragment. The pursuit of universal friendship is giving way to selective alignment and the formation of hostile blocs.
Behind these shifts lies a transformational change. The US, Japan’s strategic guarantor since the end of World War II, is no longer the country it once was. Eight decades after the Allied victory, lessons about how previous wars began and what it cost to win them no longer shape US strategic instincts. World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War have become distant memories for America’s current leaders.
The US commitment to defend Japan, South Korea and Taiwan emerged from a victory achieved 80 years ago. America maintained its security guarantees not only because of their strategic value, but also because of the immense cost incurred in securing them.
But that logic has lost much of its hold on policymakers today, and therein lies the central irony confronting postwar Japan. For decades, Japan’s security rested on being obviously indispensable — to the US strategy in Asia, to the global economy and to the open trading system. Today, however, US leaders increasingly question Japan’s indispensability and expect the country to prove its worth through crude cost-benefit calculations.
These global shifts collide sharply with Japan’s domestic realities. Strategic competition rewards speed, yet Japan is an aging society. It faces a stark tradeoff between missiles and hospital beds. To double defense spending over a decade would require sustained annual growth of roughly 7 percent, an extraordinarily difficult feat. And even if such a doubling were achieved, it would still be far from sufficient to counter a rapidly expanding Chinese military.
Meanwhile, confusion surrounding Japan’s non-nuclear principles persists. The three principles — not possessing, not producing and not permitting the introduction of nuclear weapons — remain deeply embedded in national identity, as does the moral inheritance of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. What has changed is not a loss of trust in US extended deterrence, but a growing recognition that deterrence must be credible not only in theory, but also in practice. As the regional security environment deteriorates, many are questioning whether America’s faraway nuclear capabilities are still compatible with effective deterrence in Japan’s immediate vicinity.
Each time Japan attempts to break out of its strategic shell, the international discourse constrains it. Efforts to increase defense spending are met with accusations of remilitarization (charges that China is eager to amplify). Any consideration of constitutional revisions along the lines advocated by the late prime minister Abe Shinzō is labeled as extremism. When Japanese leaders visit Yasukuni Shrine, international opinion tends to ascribe malign intent without nuance. Even encouraging respect for the national flag and anthem invites the worst suspicions.
These reactions do not come only from China or South Korea. Much of the Western media responds the same way. The result has been a narrowing of debate over Japan’s strategic choices, delaying necessary decisions. At the same time, assets once taken for granted have depreciated: US backing feels less assured; being a “good global citizen” at the UN yields diminishing returns; and Japan’s technological edge is increasingly contested.
Japan’s greatest vulnerability lies not only in policy failures, but in its collective psychology. There are risks in pursuing reforms that lack broad social acceptance, and in investing in an international order that may not endure. If political disengagement from the US were to become acceptable, long-suppressed grievances could quickly resurface.
Even today, Japan harbors a latent fear of strategic enclosure. Situated off the northeastern edge of Eurasia, the country has always depended on distant sea lanes. While fears of reduced autonomy and shrinking options are rarely stated explicitly, they are ever-present, subtly shaping national behavior.
What, then, must Japan’s leaders do? Two imperatives are clear. First, Japan must act now to expand its strategic room for maneuver. Postponing major decisions can no longer be portrayed as preserving options; it now has the opposite effect.
Second, Japanese leaders must communicate more effectively, both domestically and internationally. They must explain clearly, without moralizing, why adaptation and change are necessary to preserve autonomy and security. Change should not be framed as a rupture with the postwar order, but as the means by which its principles can be sustained under new conditions.
Without action, Japan will drift. Without effective communication, it will fracture. The next 12 years will not forgive dithering or confusion.
Tomohiko Taniguchi is a former special adviser to the late prime minister Shinzō Abe. He is also the chairman of Nippon Kaigi (Japan Conference), a conservative lobbying organization.
Copyright: Project Syndicate, 2026
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