Why China Is Alarmed by Japan’s Election Landslide: The Push to Revise Article 9 and Its Regional Ripples

Japan’s historic vote hands Sanae Takaichi the strongest mandate since 1945—and Beijing sees a pacifist constitution under siege.

Tokyo woke Monday to a market euphoria that spoke volumes about political certainty’s premium: the Nikkei 225 surged past 57,000 for the first time, bond yields climbed, and the yen held relatively steady despite expectations of further weakness. The trigger? Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s landslide victory Sunday delivered her Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) an unprecedented 316 seats in the 465-member lower house—a two-thirds supermajority that no single party has achieved in postwar Japan.

Yet while investors celebrated, the view from Beijing was decidedly darker. China sees in Takaichi’s triumph not merely electoral arithmetic but an existential threat to the regional order: the real prospect of Japan revising Article 9 of its constitution, the pacifist clause that has anchored Tokyo’s military restraint for nearly eight decades. For a leadership in Beijing already unnerved by Takaichi’s November comments linking Taiwan’s security to Japan’s survival, the election result reads less like democratic renewal than strategic provocation—a step toward what Chinese state media darkly terms the “return of militarism.”

The tension encapsulates a broader Indo-Pacific paradox. As Donald Trump congratulated Takaichi on her “LANDSLIDE Victory” and the U.S. State Department hailed the alliance as “never stronger,” China finds itself navigating the awkward geometry of a neighbor it cannot ignore growing closer to an adversary it cannot intimidate. The question now is whether Takaichi’s mandate accelerates a constitutional reckoning—and whether Beijing’s alarm translates into strategic restraint or reactive escalation.

The Anatomy of a Political Earthquake

Elections called barely three months into a premiership typically signal desperation. Takaichi’s gamble looked like the opposite: a calculated attempt to convert personal popularity into institutional power. The numbers vindicate her audacity. Her LDP alone captured 316 seats, surpassing the previous single-party record of 300 seats won in 1986 and the Democratic Party of Japan’s 308 seats in 2009. Add her coalition partner, the right-leaning Japan Innovation Party (Ishin), which secured 36 seats, and the ruling bloc commands 352 seats—well beyond the 310 needed to override the upper house, where Takaichi lacks a majority.

The opposition, meanwhile, suffered a rout. The Centrist Reform Alliance, formed in late 2025 to challenge LDP dominance, hemorrhaged two-thirds of its pre-election seats, prompting immediate resignations from its co-leaders. Analysts credited Takaichi’s victory to her charismatic leadership, particularly among young voters drawn to her “work, work, work” ethos and active social media presence—a sharp contrast to the LDP’s traditional gerontocracy.

Yet beneath the personal triumph lies a substantive shift. Takaichi is no technocratic caretaker. A self-described protégé of the late Shinzo Abe and admirer of Margaret Thatcher, she campaigned on a platform that blended economic populism (suspending consumption tax on food) with hawkish foreign policy (accelerating defense spending to 2% of GDP, relaxing arms export controls) and constitutional ambition. The supermajority now gives her the legislative capacity to pursue what previous LDP leaders only gestured toward: formally enshrining the Self-Defense Forces (SDF) in Article 9, which currently reads, “the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation.”

Article 9: The Clause That Won’t Stay Still

To understand Beijing’s alarm, one must grasp Article 9’s peculiar status in Japanese politics. Imposed by American occupiers in 1947 as a permanent bulwark against militarism, it has become both sacred text and contested terrain. For seven decades, Tokyo navigated around it through creative interpretation: developing the SDF under the fiction that they existed for “self-defense” only, avoiding collective security arrangements, and maintaining strict export controls on weapons.

Abe chipped at these constraints, reinterpreting the constitution in 2015 to permit limited collective self-defense—allowing Japan to defend allies under attack. Yet formal amendment remained elusive, requiring two-thirds approval in both Diet chambers plus a national referendum. Takaichi now possesses the first ingredient: lower house dominance sufficient to overcome upper house resistance.

Her vision is unambiguous. As she told reporters during the campaign, she aims to “write the Self-Defense Forces into Article 9 and define them as a legitimate, capable military organization.” This is not merely symbolic. Explicit constitutional recognition would remove the legal ambiguity that has constrained Japanese defense policy, potentially opening pathways to offensive strike capabilities, expanded regional deployments, and a more assertive role in Taiwan contingencies—precisely the scenarios that keep Chinese strategists awake.

Beijing’s Calculus: Threat Perception and Strategic Anxiety

China’s reaction has oscillated between rhetorical fury and calculated pressure. When Takaichi declared in November that a Chinese attack on Taiwan could constitute a “survival-threatening situation” for Japan—implying Tokyo might invoke collective self-defense—Beijing’s response was swift and multifaceted. The Foreign Ministry summoned Tokyo’s ambassador; state media denounced the comments as “gross interference” in China’s internal affairs; Beijing canceled flights, restricted Japanese seafood imports, and ramped up military patrols near Japanese waters. Even China’s pandas were returned early.

The Taiwan remarks matter because they crossed a line that even Abe had respected in office. While Abe privately told associates after his resignation that a “Taiwan emergency” would be a “Japan emergency,” he never articulated this publicly as prime minister. Takaichinot only said it but refused to retract it under Chinese pressure. For Beijing, this signals not rhetorical excess but strategic intent: a Japanese leadership willing to intervene in what China considers a domestic reunification issue.

The Article 9 question magnifies these concerns. China Daily’s editorial captured Beijing’s framing: Takaichi is “riding a ‘Trojan horse’ to overcome postwar restraints on remilitarization,” treating the constitution “as an annoying traffic light on red while she is late for an appointment with destiny.” The language is loaded but reflects genuine strategic anxiety. China suffered catastrophically under Japanese militarism from 1931-1945—an estimated 35 million military and civilian casualties, more than one-third of all World War II losses. The historical trauma remains politically salient, invoked routinely to justify vigilance against any revival of Japanese military power.

Yet Beijing’s dilemma is acute. Overreaction risks validating Takaichi’s narrative that China poses an existential threat, strengthening public support for constitutional revision. A recent poll showed 55% of Japanese respondents believed Takaichi’s Taiwan comments were appropriate, while her approval rating hit 75%—evidence that Beijing’s pressure may be backfiring. Conversely, acquiescence could embolden Tokyo and signal weakness to domestic audiences and regional neighbors.

China’s options appear constrained. Foreign Ministry spokesman Lin Jian has urged Japan to “reflect on history, respect the desire for peace among its own people, and adhere to peaceful development”—boilerplate language that reveals the paucity of effective levers. Economic coercion has limits when Japan is already diversifying supply chains away from China. Military intimidation near Japanese waters or the Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands risks accidental escalation. And Beijing’s broader strategic bandwidth is consumed by U.S.-China competition, South China Sea disputes, and economic headwinds at home.

The Trump Variable: Alliance Consolidation Under Uncertainty

If China faces strategic constraints, Takaichi enjoys a tailwind from an unexpected quarter: Donald Trump. The U.S. president’s fulsome endorsement—describing Takaichi as a “strong, powerful, and wise Leader” who “truly loves her Country”—provides valuable diplomatic cover. Trump and Takaichi forged a rapport during his October 2025 visit to Tokyo, where they appeared aboard the USS George Washington and signed agreements on trade, critical minerals, and shipbuilding cooperation.

The U.S.-Japan alliance dynamics are evolving in ways that suit Takaichi’s agenda. Trump’s transactional approach demands allies “pay their fair share,” but Tokyo is complying: committing $550 billion in U.S. investments, accelerating defense spending to 2% of GDP, and hosting expanded American military deployments. Takaichi’s scheduled March visit to Washington will likely yield further commitments on Indo-Pacific security architecture, including joint capabilities in cyber, space, and long-range strike systems.

This alignment serves mutual interests. For Washington, a militarily capable Japan willing to shoulder regional security burdens reduces American costs while countering Chinese influence. For Tokyo, explicit American backing provides both deterrence against China and political legitimacy for constitutional revision. The State Department’s description of the alliance as “the cornerstone of peace, security and prosperity” in the Indo-Pacific signals continuity despite Trump’s unpredictability elsewhere.

Yet risks remain. Trump’s simultaneous outreach to Xi Jinping—he plans an April visit to Beijing—creates ambiguity about whether Washington would actually support Tokyo in a Taiwan contingency. Japanese policymakers quietly fear becoming a “pawn” in U.S.-China grand bargaining. The upcoming renegotiation of the Special Measures Agreement on host-nation support could also strain ties if Trump demands massive cost increases Tokyo cannot afford. Still, for now, the alliance trajectory favors Takaichi’s defense buildup.

Economic Signals: Markets Price In Constitutional Ambition

Tokyo’s markets offered their own verdict Monday. The so-called “Takaichi trade”—a bet on fiscal stimulus, defense spending, and loose monetary policy—accelerated. The Nikkei 225 soared 5% intraday to briefly touch 57,757, while the Topix index hit all-time highs. Investors anticipate Takaichi will deliver on campaign promises: suspending food taxes, maintaining expansionary budgets funded by bond issuance, and keeping the Bank of Japan accommodative despite global inflation pressures.

Yet the rally masks underlying tensions. Japan already carries public debt exceeding 230% of GDP, the highest globally. Bond markets have grown jittery; 30-year yields hit a record 3.88% in January before retreating as Takaichi pledged “responsible” fiscal policy. Analysts at Oxford Economics suggest she will “strike a delicate balance between proactive fiscal policy and fiscal discipline,” but the supermajority removes opposition checks that previously forced restraint.

The yen’s relative stability—strengthening modestly to 156.55 per dollar post-election—surprised many who expected further weakness. Michael Wan of MUFG attributed this to Takaichi’s emphasis on fiscal sustainability in victory remarks. But if defense spending surges and constitutional revision proceeds, investors may reassess Japan’s fiscal trajectory. A rapid yen depreciation could trigger capital flight or force the Bank of Japan to tighten prematurely, choking the nascent economic recovery Takaichi promises.

Moreover, defense industrialization carries opportunity costs. Takaichi’s plans to relax arms export controls and boost domestic production—including shipbuilding cooperation with the U.S.—will absorb capital and labor in an economy already constrained by demographic decline. The economic logic works only if regional security improves, allowing reduced risk premiums. If instead Article 9 revision triggers a regional arms race, Japan could face the worst of both worlds: fiscal strain and heightened insecurity.

Regional Ripples: Beyond the China-Japan Binary

The Takaichi phenomenon extends beyond bilateral tensions. Her electoral triumph reshapes regional dynamics in subtle ways. South Korea, under President Lee Jae-myung, congratulated Takaichi and expressed willingness to deepen trilateral cooperation with the U.S. Yet Seoul watches warily. Takaichi’s annual pilgrimages to Yasukuni Shrine—which honors Class-A war criminals—and her historical revisionism on wartime “comfort women” remain inflammatory in Korea. Constitutional revision that explicitly legitimizes Japanese military power could reopen historical wounds that Seoul and Tokyo have papered over.

For Taiwan, Takaichi is a welcome voice. President Lai Ching-te was among the first to congratulate her, expressing hope for “peace and prosperity in the Indo-Pacific.” Taiwanese strategists view Article 9 revision as potentially decisive in deterring Chinese aggression. If Beijing believes a Taiwan contingency would trigger Japanese intervention—backed by American forces based in Japan—the calculus shifts dramatically. Yet this also means Taiwan’s security becomes entangled in Japanese domestic politics, with potentially destabilizing consequences if public opinion turns against intervention amid actual conflict.

Southeast Asian states exhibit characteristic ambivalence. ASEAN members benefit from Japanese investment and infrastructure financing but worry about great power competition in their backyard. A remilitarized Japan asserting leadership in the “Free and Open Indo-Pacific” risks forcing uncomfortable choices between economic ties with China and security alignment with Tokyo and Washington. Singapore and Vietnam may welcome the balancing dynamic; Cambodia and Laos, less so.

Russia has joined China in condemning Takaichi’s defense posture. Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov accused Tokyo of seeking to revise its pacifist constitution and build “offensive military potential.” Moscow’s alignment with Beijing on this issue reflects shared interests in constraining U.S. alliance systems, though Russia’s capacity for meaningful pressure on Japan remains limited given its focus on Ukraine.

The Road Ahead: Referendum Politics and Regional Scenarios

Possessing a supermajority is one thing; navigating the constitutional amendment process, another. Even with lower house dominance, Takaichi needs two-thirds approval in the upper house (where her coalition lacks such a majority) and then victory in a national referendum. Historical precedent is not encouraging. Abe, despite his commitment and political capital, never managed to put constitutional revision to a vote.

Yet Takaichi’s position is stronger in critical ways. First, the Japan Innovation Party supports constitutional amendment, unlike the pacifist Komeito, which departed the coalition last year over historical scandals. Second, public opinion is less hostile than in Abe’s era. Surveys show growing acceptance of SDF recognition and collective self-defense, driven by perceptions of Chinese and North Korean threats. Third, Takaichi can sequence reforms: focusing initially on less controversial amendments (disaster response, education) before tackling Article 9 directly.

The referendum, if it occurs, will likely happen in 2027 at the earliest. Much depends on whether Takaichi can sustain political momentum while managing economic delivery. Voters rewarded her electoral courage and charisma, but they expect tangible results: lower living costs, stable wages, effective crisis management. A misstep—an economic recession, a diplomatic blunder, a scandal within her expanded LDP ranks—could erode the mandate and doom constitutional revision.

For China, the strategic question is how to respond over this timeline. Escalating pressure now risks consolidating Japanese public opinion behind Takaichi. Yet doing nothing allows momentum to build. Beijing’s optimal strategy may involve selective engagement: maintaining economic ties where possible, offering diplomatic off-ramps (perhaps around the Senkaku/Diaoyu dispute), and emphasizing the costs of regional militarization to third parties. Simultaneously, China will likely accelerate its own military modernization, particularly around Taiwan and the First Island Chain, to demonstrate that Japan’s constitutional revision does not alter fundamental power balances.

Conclusion: A Pacifist Clause in the Age of Great Power Competition

Sanae Takaichi’s historic landslide has thrust Article 9 from constitutional abstraction to immediate political question. For seven decades, the clause served as both restraint and alibi—allowing Japan to free-ride on American security guarantees while avoiding the moral and fiscal burdens of militarization. That equilibrium is collapsing under the weight of geopolitical change: a rising, assertive China; an inward-looking, transactional America; and a regional security environment defined by strategic competition rather than post-Cold War cooperation.

China’s alarm is understandable but possibly counterproductive. Beijing’s coercive responses to Takaichi’s Taiwan comments demonstrated precisely the threat that Japanese hawks invoke to justify rearmament. If China wants to forestall Article 9 revision, hectoring Tokyo and punishing it economically may be the worst approach. A more subtle strategy—emphasizing mutual interests in stability, offering credible restraint signals on Taiwan, and exploiting potential fissures in U.S.-Japan alignment—might slow Takaichi’s constitutional project.

Yet Beijing may calculate that such restraint is impossible without appearing weak domestically. Xi Jinping faces his own political imperatives: demonstrating resolve on Taiwan, maintaining nationalist legitimacy, and countering perceived encirclement by American alliances. In this light, Japan’s Article 9 revision becomes less a discrete policy challenge than a symptom of deeper Sino-American rivalry—one that neither Beijing nor Tokyo controls fully.

The ultimate irony is that Article 9 was meant to prevent precisely the kind of security dilemma now unfolding. By renouncing war, Japan would signal benign intent and avoid regional arms races. Instead, the clause’s erosion reflects the limits of unilateral restraint in a multipolar order. If Takaichi succeeds in revising Article 9—no certainty, but no longer implausible—the postwar settlement in East Asia will have fundamentally changed. Markets may celebrate the political clarity; Beijing will brace for a region transformed. And the rest of us should watch closely, for the stakes extend far beyond one constitutional clause in one island nation. They encompass the very question of whether the Indo-Pacific can accommodate competing great powers without descending into the militarized rivalry that Article 9 was written to prevent.