Lost in Translation? Tamaki, the DPFP, and Why Women Still Aren’t Buying It
Yuichiro Tamaki’s recent gaffe in English has gotten plenty of buzz—-but let’s pause for a second. Is the reason the Democratic Party for the People (DPFP) struggles with female support really just because their policies aren’t “communicated clearly enough” or are “hard to understand”?
Instead of just nitpicking his word choice or reading too much into his tone, maybe we should ask the bigger question: Why does the party attract men, but not women?
When politicians lose public support, their go-to explanation tends to be something like, “We didn’t communicate well enough,” or “People just didn’t get what we were saying.” But, that’s often a soft excuse. Sometimes the public does understand the policy and just doesn’t like it. Explaining it more slowly or loudly won’t change that.
It’s a trick used in media too. If a reporter or outlet wants to cast doubt on a policy without directly criticizing it, they often go with phrases like “lack of explanation” or “failure to gain understanding.” It sounds neutral, but really, it’s a way to dodge the real debate—-shifting the focus from what’s being said to how it’s being said.
So what about the DPFP? Why is there such a big gender gap in their support?
Just recently, Nikkei ran a piece on this, quoting Prof. Yukio Maeda at the University of Tokyo. He pointed out that female voter preferences tend to be more stable than men’s, partly because so many politicians are older men; which naturally makes politics feel more distant to many women.
If we follow that logic, the DPFP’s early support from politically curious, novelty-friendly men makes sense. And if the party sticks around long enough and builds some traction, women might follow. That’s more or less what happened with the old Democratic Party in its heyday. Same with Osaka’s Ishin party (Japan Innovation Party)—-when they first pushed the “Osaka Metropolitan Plan,” male voters jumped on board first. Now, they’ve got solid support across the board.
Through several opinion surveys conducted by Yamaneko Research Institute Inc., we have also seen that men are more likely to want radical change. But that doesn’t mean women are fine with the way things are. In fact, many women report feeling frustrated or disconnected from politics. And interestingly, more women than men say they don’t remember who they voted for—-which could reflect how little impact politics seems to have on their daily lives. Juggling work, home, and life in a society where politicians rarely speak to their reality, it’s no surprise that interest drops.
There’s also the question of risk perception—-are people hopeful that change will be for the better, or worried it’ll make things worse? That kind of thinking might shape how different groups engage with politics. Gender isn’t destiny, but it does shape how we move through the world, and that can affect our political behavior too.
So, could the DPFP eventually pick up more female support just by keeping at it and staying visible? Maybe. But we’re not there yet.
For one thing, the party doesn’t do well with older voters. Its base skews younger—-people who didn’t grow up with the same ideological battles over the Constitution or national security, and who might not remember the ups and downs of Japan’s political reform movements in the past 30 years. That makes the DPFP different from earlier “reformist” parties, which were often driven by middle-aged voters angry at the status quo.
If we look abroad, we see similar patterns. New parties that start with strong youth support—-often because of a clear message or slick communications—-can rise quickly, but also fall just as fast. In Germany, for example, many young voters who once backed the Greens have recently shifted toward the far-right AfD. These “newcomer” parties often struggle to build a stable base that sticks with them over time.
One way around that is to go hyper-local and deliver real results. That’s what Osaka’s Ishin did. By actually governing and implementing reforms, they earned the trust of skeptical voters, including women, who began to see real-life benefits. But the DPFP hasn’t made much of a splash in local politics, like the Tokyo Assembly, so it’s harder for voters to connect the party to anything tangible in their lives.
Media also plays a role, of course. Mr. Tamaki’s strong YouTube presence has helped boost his personal brand—-but political YouTube in Japan is still a male-dominated space. Odds are, most of Mr. Tamaki’s viewers are men.
Personally, what worries me is that the DPFP’s political identity is getting fuzzy. That’s a common issue with fast-growing parties—-they don’t always know who their core audience is, and they’re easily swayed by loud voices on social media. It’s not just the DPFP; this happens to all parties. When something like Sanseitō (socially conservative, economic populist) suddenly surges in popularity, everyone starts second-guessing their message.
For a party to attract more risk-averse voters—-including many women—-it needs more than clever messaging or charismatic leaders. It needs stability, consistency, and a clearer sense of direction.