Where Does the Illusion Come From That “The U.S. Supports Sanae Takaichi”?

―The real meaning of “anonymous foreign sources” in Japanese media, and the moment Taiwan contingency talk becomes “common sense”

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Introduction — Why do these illusions keep repeating?

In Japanese security coverage—especially in the context of a Taiwan contingency—an oddly familiar atmosphere often forms.

“The United States wants Japan to have a more hardline leader.”
“And the politician who embodies that path is Sanae Takaichi.”

But if we start with the conclusion: there is no established fact that the U.S. government supports Sanae Takaichi by name.

So why do articles and online narratives repeatedly create the impression that “America seems to be backing her”? This piece argues that two seemingly different stories share the same underlying mechanism: the “illusion of U.S. support” and the way Taiwan-contingency inevitability talk becomes “the correct stance.”

At the center is a pattern of reinterpretation: diplomatic staging and selective “foreign voices” are recoded as domestic political evidence. Once that recoding becomes habitual, the boundary between fact and projection quietly dissolves.

1. What the U.S. supports is not a “person,” but a “policy line”

First, the premise. America’s posture toward Japan is not built around personal preferences for individual politicians. It is built around the stable operation of the alliance.

The key question is not “Who is the prime minister?” but whether Japan can keep the alliance functioning reliably: policy continuity, bureaucratic coordination, crisis management, and the ability to avoid unnecessary escalation.

This is because U.S. foreign policy—especially alliance management—is designed around institutions and processes, not around a single leader’s rhetoric or ideological color.

In Japanese domestic debate, “hardline” and “conservative” are often treated as the main indicators. But from the standpoint of alliance governance, what matters more is whether strong domestic rhetoric narrows diplomatic options or destabilizes alliance coordination.

So, the U.S. is not “supporting a politician”; it is prioritizing a policy line and an institutional capacity to run the alliance without accidents.

2. Who is actually speaking when “pro-Takaichi” sounding lines appear?

When Japanese media introduce “the American view,” there is a noticeable bias in whose voices get amplified. What is frequently cited tends to cluster around:

• U.S. conservative think-tank circles
• Former officials associated with hawkish China policy
• Commentary in right-leaning media ecosystems

What they typically offer is general language: Japan should spend more on defense. Allies should show resolve. Deterrence must be strengthened.

Because these claims often overlap with Takaichi’s rhetorical posture, the overlap is then read as endorsement: “America must be evaluating her positively.”

But overlap is not support. Resonance is not sponsorship. Much of what is quoted is simply one faction of U.S. debate—not an official U.S. position.

So, what appears in Japanese media as “America’s voice” is often a selective slice of U.S. discourse, expanded into a whole.

3. The decisive absence: the “silence of institutions”

Here is the most consequential fact, and yet Japanese coverage rarely treats it as central: U.S. institutions—the places where responsibility becomes official—are not speaking about Takaichi.

The U.S. State Department, the National Security Council (NSC), and the U.S. Embassy in Japan. These are the channels where official policy signals appear. From these routes, there is no statement praising her, endorsing her, or framing her as a desired future leader.

This silence is not mere indifference. It reflects the logic of alliance management. Openly rating or “backing” a specific politician in an allied country can be interpreted as interference in domestic politics— and that itself can damage the alliance.

Moreover, what U.S. institutions worry about most is not “strong language” itself, but the way hardline domestic rhetoric can narrow diplomatic exits and turn risk into reality.

• Domestic hardline messaging provokes the other side’s face and public mood
• The other side responds with equally hardline language
• Both become unable to step back
• Miscalculation accumulates, and a crisis becomes real

That chain is not deterrence; it is the amplification of accidents. So institutions do not automatically welcome “strong-looking leaders.” They value the ability to prevent miscalculation and keep escalation controllable.

So, institutional silence does not “prove support”; it reveals a principle: avoid political interference and prioritize crisis management.

4. Why diplomatic staging can look like “political backing”

Another driver of the illusion is diplomatic staging. Military bases, aircraft carriers, soldiers, presidents, strong slogans—these are visual languages of alliance politics. They are common tools in international messaging.

The problem is the domestic reinterpretation in Japan: staging intended to show the alliance “framework” is recoded as a personal endorsement of a particular politician.

What staging truly signals is not “who is favored,” but that the alliance exists, cooperation continues, and deterrence is being communicated. However, in Japan’s media ecosystem, the “framework” is often converted into “approval of a person.”

Why does that conversion happen? Because photos and titles are stronger than text.

• An ambassadorial title (authority)
• Presidents / carriers / soldiers (symbols)
• Strong words (emotion)

This combination easily becomes “political authorization” in the audience’s mind. But in many cases, it is simply a diplomatic tool being repurposed for domestic political storytelling.

So, diplomatic staging shows an alliance framework—but domestic interpretation can misread it as personal endorsement.

5. The same mechanism appears in Taiwan-contingency “inevitability” talk

The same pattern of reinterpretation appears in Taiwan contingency discourse.

“A Taiwan contingency is inevitable.”
“Japan is a party to it.”
“So we must prepare—there is no choice but resolve.”

At first glance, this sounds “realistic” and mature. Yet the comfort it provides often comes from one thing: the conclusion is fixed at the starting line.

Once we decide “war is unavoidable,” the world becomes simple.

• the possibility that deterrence succeeds
• space for negotiation and crisis management
• designs to prevent accidental escalation
• conditions for “a future where it didn’t happen”

These questions disappear at the entrance. Discussion slides into a test of spirit: “Do you have resolve?”

So, inevitability talk can function less as realism and more as a device that compresses multiple futures into a single worst-case line.

6. The magic phrase: “That’s how the world sees it”

A powerful reinforcement is the phrase: “That’s how the world sees it.” Washington sources. U.S. insiders. Foreign experts. Once those words appear, debate tends to move forward not through verification, but through authority.

But we should pause and ask: who is “the world” here?

In practice, the voices introduced most often are tilted toward hawkish camps: hardliners on China, conservative think tanks, analysts who frame security primarily through military logic. Their “inevitability” is a position, not a global consensus.

The danger is the moment a single position is translated into “international reality.” From that point, even questioning becomes labeled “unrealistic.”

So, “the world sees it this way” can become a shortcut that skips verification and turns debate into a pre-constructed narrative.

7. Why “resolve talk” becomes heroic in Japan

In Japan, emphasizing resolve is often treated as courageous, even heroic. This is not simply because people are right-wing or “pro-war.” It is better understood as a social psychology.

Living with uncertainty is painful. Rather than continuing to think in an unresolved state, stepping into a story—“we have decided”—feels emotionally stabilizing.

There is also a postwar hunger for “agency.” A self-image of being protected and having decisions made elsewhere can make words like “accept,” “shoulder,” “resolve” appear unusually admirable.

But when resolve is heroized, something is lost: the capacity to doubt and the imagination to search for exits.

So, heroic resolve can transform not the continuation of thought, but the stopping of thought, into a social virtue.

8. What “real resolve” actually means

Real resolve is not about saying strong words. It is not about narrowing options until you feel better.

Real resolve is almost the opposite:

• keep thinking about the possibility that war does not happen, until the end
• do not abandon space for deterrence and negotiation
• imagine the conditions for “the future that didn’t happen”
• prepare for the worst without making the worst your premise

And above all, it means accepting concrete costs—lives, the economy, social division— in words, not in slogans.

If we speak of resolve, we must keep separating what is fact from what is projection. That distinction should never be blurred.

So, real resolve is the endurance to resist simplification and keep comparing multiple futures.

Conclusion — The true shape of the illusion

The illusion that “the U.S. supports Sanae Takaichi” and the process by which Taiwan-contingency inevitability talk becomes “the correct stance” share the same structural logic.

Diplomatic staging and a selective subset of foreign commentary are reinterpreted as domestic political evidence. What was meant to signal a framework becomes read as a personal endorsement. What was one faction’s argument becomes read as “global reality.”

Photographs are persuasive. But institutional language is deliberately restrained. That gap—between visual loudness and institutional caution—is where illusions are born.

This is not a claim that “resolve” is unnecessary. The problem is the unspoken merging of fact and projection—the moment a narrative replaces verification.

Before we speak of resolve, we should ask: Who set the premise? At what point were other options removed? What do institutions say—and what do they carefully avoid saying?

Continuing to distinguish those layers is, in an age of uncertainty, the starting point of truly realistic debate.