“Cutting Lawmakers” and the Risk Behind It — How Democracy Is Quietly Eroded

The debate over cutting lawmakers has started moving again.

And once again, it is being presented as something positive.

The Liberal Democratic Party and Nippon Ishin have agreed to submit a bill to cut 45 seats from the House of Representatives. This time, the proposal is said to focus mainly on proportional representation seats.

At first glance, it looks like a story about cutting waste.

But this is not simply about cost.

It is about narrowing the pathways through which public opinion reaches politics.

This article looks at the issue not merely as an institutional reform debate, but in light of cases that have already unfolded abroad.

In every country, moves like this begin the same way.

They begin under the guise of “good reform.”

■ Why Cutting Lawmakers Threatens Democracy

Cutting lawmakers is not simply a matter of institutional reform.

It is an act of narrowing the channels of democracy itself.

Democracy is not defined by the mere existence of elections.

It is the system through which people with different positions enter parliament,
debate, confront one another, revise proposals,
and continue to monitor power.

That process is inefficient, time-consuming, and at times disorderly.

But that very “inconvenience” is the essence of democracy.

What Cutting Lawmakers Removes

Cutting lawmakers strips away that very process.

• It reduces the number of representatives
• It narrows the entry points for dissenting views
• It reduces the number of eyes watching power

In other words, this is not the rationalization of institutions.

It is a weakening of democracy’s resilience.

■ Why This Policy Is Especially Dangerous in Japan

Japan is, institutionally, a democracy.

But whether its substance is functioning to the same extent is another matter, and one that requires caution.

Democracy does not run on institutions alone.

Its strength depends greatly on whether the sensibilities that sustain it are widely shared in society.

To question power.
To accept dissent.
To preserve minority voices.

How deeply are these assumptions actually shared?

There is little reason for optimism.

In Japan, by contrast, there is a stronger tendency to value:

Avoiding confrontation.
Not disturbing the social atmosphere.
Reaching conclusions quickly.

As a result, people are more likely to see things this way:

Too much debate = waste
Conflict = a problem
Minority views = a nuisance

But in reality, the opposite is true.

Debate exists because society is diverse.
Conflict exists because interests differ.
Minority opinions remain because they function as a safeguard.

If all of that is cut away in the name of inefficiency,

friction disappears.

And once that friction disappears,

the power to restrain authority also weakens.

Cutting lawmakers belongs squarely within that process.

It reduces the number of representatives.
It narrows the entry points for dissent.
It reduces the number of eyes watching power.

Its effects do not fall evenly.

What gets cut away first is not the strongest side.

It is the smaller voices.

Local constituencies.
Independent voters.
Minority groups.

Views that are less easily absorbed into the existing system are pushed outward.

As a result,

political diversity is diminished,
and decision-making becomes increasingly simplified.

And what remains in the end is

a politics in which those who decide are separated from those who are governed.

That is where the problem lies.

In Japan, changes like this are often accepted as

“reform”
“efficiency”
“cutting waste”

That is exactly why the problem is so easily overlooked.

And by the time people notice,

it has already become difficult to reverse.

■ What Overseas Cases Show

This issue is not unique to Japan.

Cuts to lawmakers and revisions to parliamentary structures have been repeated in multiple countries.

And not only in countries with the same political system.

Across Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and parts of the former Soviet sphere,
similar patterns can be seen despite very different institutions and histories.

What these countries have in common is this:

such measures tend to be adopted in countries where the foundations of democracy are not especially strong,
or where those foundations have already begun to weaken.

By contrast, there are also countries that have not reduced the number of lawmakers,
and have instead maintained the thickness of parliamentary debate.

The most representative case is the United Kingdom.

The British Parliament is often slow, argumentative, and procedurally cumbersome.

But it has not been cut back.

Why?

Because there is a shared assumption that democracy is not something to be measured by efficiency alone.

In other words, there is a clear divergence here.

Does a country treat its institutions as something to be streamlined?

Or does it treat them as something that must be preserved and sustained?

That difference shapes the political system that follows.

What matters is that in every country, proposals to cut lawmakers are first presented in difficult-to-oppose language:

“reform”
“efficiency”
“cutting waste”

And yet what follows is strikingly similar.

Reduction of representation.
Exclusion of dissent.
Concentration of power.

And these changes do not arrive all at once.

Institutional revisions.
Electoral adjustments.
Changes to parliamentary structure.

They advance through a series of seemingly small changes.

That is precisely why they are hard to recognize as a danger.

Instead, they are often accepted as

“a rational review”
“a realistic response”
“reform suited to the times”

And what remains in the end is this:

Elections still exist.
Parliament still exists.
The institutions are still there.

And yet,

what weakens is the very capacity to restrain power.

Below, we turn to the specific cases.

1. Hungary — Elections Remain, but Competition Changes

In Hungary, institutional changes moved forward after 2010 under the government of Viktor Orbán.

The number of parliamentary seats was reduced from 386 to 199,
and the electoral system was redesigned as well.

The official name for it was “institutional reform.”

Behind it, however, lay public frustration with political stagnation and instability.

Fragile coalitions.
Slow decision-making.
Economic stagnation.

In that context, calls for “stronger governance” and “stable politics” began to grow.

And institutions were redesigned in a direction that prioritized stability and efficiency.

In practice, however, the rules were adjusted in ways favorable to the ruling party,
creating a structure in which regime change became harder.

There have also been criticisms that these institutional changes gave the ruling side a structural advantage.

What matters is that the system itself remained in place.

Elections still exist.
Opposition parties still exist.

And yet,

the conditions of competition themselves begin to change.

Through changes in seat allocation and electoral rules,
a structure emerges in which the same level of votes can produce different outcomes.

As a result,

even though elections continue to be held,
the possibility of changing the government becomes increasingly limited.

In other words,

even if institutions remain, once the premises of competition are altered,
the way democracy functions also changes.

This is not the abolition of institutions.

It is a phenomenon in which the very substance of the institution is rewritten.

2. Turkey — Institutions Remain, but Their Function Changes

In Turkey, institutional changes moved forward in the late 2010s in the name of speeding up political decision-making.

Behind them lay frustration with what was seen as “slow politics.”

Debate takes too long.
Coordination takes too much time.

Against that backdrop, calls for “strong leadership” and “rapid decisions” grew stronger.

Then, in 2017, under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, a constitutional revision shifted the country from a parliamentary system to a presidential one.

This change significantly expanded presidential power.

As a result, the system was reshaped in a way that prioritized speed.

Decisions did, in fact, become faster.

But at the same time,

the mechanisms that restrain power became weaker.

The influence of parliament declined relative to the presidency,
and the structure that had dispersed power began to change.

What remained was a politics in which decisions could be made quickly, but were harder to revise.

The crucial point is that the institutions themselves did not disappear.

Parliament still exists.
Elections are still held.

And yet,

once parliament’s power weakens,
the checking function of elections becomes more limited.

In other words,

even when elections remain, if the institutions that restrain power no longer function,
a structure of de facto power concentration emerges.

This is not the abolition of institutions.

It is a phenomenon in which the meaning of those institutions changes.

3. Russia — Institutions Remain, but Politics Loses Its Function

In Russia, since the 2000s, parliamentary and electoral institutions have been gradually restructured under the government of Vladimir Putin.

Behind this lay a reaction against the political turmoil and instability of the 1990s.

Economic disorder.
Fragmented power.
Unstable governance.

In that context, calls for a “strong state” and “stable rule” grew more persuasive.

Institutions were then adjusted in a direction that prioritized order and control.

The institutions themselves remained in place.

Parliament still exists.
Elections are still held.

And yet,

they became less able to function as mechanisms for restraining power.

Parliament increasingly shifted from a place of debate
to a place where decisions are ratified.

This change did not happen all at once.

Adjustments to the electoral system.
Reorganization of the party system.
Restrictions on media and opposition forces.

Those changes accumulated step by step,
and the function of the institutions was gradually replaced.

As a result,

the outward form of the system remained,
while the balance of power changed.

In other words,

even when institutions remain, if they no longer restrain power,
the way democracy functions changes fundamentally.

This is not the disappearance of institutions.

It is a phenomenon in which the “function” of institutions is replaced.

4. The United Kingdom — A Democracy That Preserves Inefficiency

In the United Kingdom, parliamentary institutions have been maintained over a long period of time.

Debate is lengthy, and procedures are complex.

Even today, that structure has not been fundamentally altered.

The reason lies in a different way of thinking about democracy.

In Britain, the “inefficiency” of parliament is not seen as a flaw.

Rather,

that very inefficiency is understood as part of the mechanism that restrains power.

It slows decisions down, preserves dissent, and leaves room for revision.

That process itself is treated as part of the core of democracy.

After Brexit in 2016, British politics entered a period of profound instability.

Triggered by the referendum, parliament remained divided for a long time,
and politics was thrown into confusion.

During that period, prime ministers changed in rapid succession:

Theresa May.
Boris Johnson.
Liz Truss.
Rishi Sunak.
And now Keir Starmer.

Politics clearly became less stable.

Decision-making slowed, and conflict became visible.

And yet,

the structure of parliament itself was preserved.

The arena of debate remained,
and dissent was not excluded.

In other words,

even while accepting instability, Britain chose to preserve a system that disperses power.

That is the key dividing line.

Should institutions be cut back as targets of “efficiency”?

Or should they be maintained as mechanisms that must be sustained?

Britain has chosen the latter.

That is why the idea of reducing the number of lawmakers and thinning out parliamentary debate
has not become a basic political assumption there.

Because democracy is not, in the end, a question of efficiency.

It is a question of how power is to be restrained.

That is exactly why the idea of cutting lawmakers itself
is not widely shared there as a democratic premise.

What these cases show is that there is no guarantee that the same structure could not emerge in Japan as well.

■ Common Structural Patterns in Countries That Reduce Lawmakers

What these cases have in common is this:

they all begin under the banner of “correct reform.”

Efficiency.
Cutting waste.
Faster decision-making.

All of these are difficult to oppose.

That is precisely why they move forward.

And there is another shared pattern.

Change always proceeds gradually, in stages.

It does not collapse all at once.

Institutions are adjusted little by little,
each step presented as a small reform.

And by the time people realize it,

the system has become something else.

The key point is this:

in every country, the reduction of lawmakers appears at a certain stage.

That stage typically includes:

Growing dissatisfaction with politics.
Frustration with slow decision-making.
A social atmosphere demanding “strong” and decisive leadership.

Debate feels too long.
Nothing seems to get decided.
Politics appears stuck in conflict.

In that environment,

voices emerge saying:

“There are too many lawmakers.”
“We should reduce them.”

And those views begin to be normalized.

Another shared condition is this:

these policies tend to be adopted in countries where democratic foundations are not especially strong,
or where those foundations have begun to weaken.

Parliament loses trust.
Outcomes are valued more than process.
Speed is valued more than procedure.

When lawmakers are reduced under those conditions,

the diversity and scale of parliament shrink,
and structures that concentrate power advance rapidly.

Fewer lawmakers.
Less dissent.
Less adjustment.

As a result, decision-making becomes faster.

But at the same time,

the mechanisms that restrain power weaken.

This also affects the direction of politics.

As parliamentary diversity declines,
the space for different values and minority views narrows.

And the result is:

National unity.
Maintenance of order.
Internal cohesion.

Politics becomes more easily concentrated in a single direction.

This, in itself, is not necessarily negative.

But the problem arises when it leads to the exclusion of dissent.

Different positions.
Minority views.
Critical perspectives.

These are gradually labeled as “division” or “inefficiency,”
and begin to be pushed out.

Politics then shifts from a space of balancing diverse interests
to a space of alignment in a single direction.

At the end of that process, even if institutions remain,

power becomes concentrated, and the substance of democracy changes.

Outwardly, democracy appears intact.

But internally, the structure of governance begins to tilt toward centralized control.

The language used to justify this is always the same:

• Efficiency
• Speed
• Cutting waste
• For the people

At first glance, all of these sound correct.

But the real question is this:

Are these measures being used to reduce the space of representation?

Or are they being used to concentrate power?

That is why the issue is not the final outcome.

The real question is whether the shift is recognized at the moment it begins.

■ Why It Is Pushed Forward with a Sense of “Speed”

Why are policies that can only weaken democracy so often pushed forward with a sense of speed?

The reason is simple.

If time is taken, people may begin to notice what is actually at stake.

• Who stands to benefit
• Who is being pushed out
• How far oversight functions will decline
• How existing power structures will be preserved

The more carefully these questions are debated, the more visible the underlying problem becomes.

That is why things are rushed.

They are simplified.

Dissent is treated as “resistance” or “opposition to reform.”

■ The Worst-Case Trajectory in Japan

In a society like Japan, where the sensibility needed to sustain democracy has not fully matured, this trajectory is especially likely to emerge.

That is because, more than the meaning of institutions themselves, people tend to value the speed of outcomes and the simplicity of appearances.

Debate takes too long.
Nothing gets decided.
Conflict is too visible.

When that perception takes hold, parliament is no longer seen as a place of necessary democratic friction, but as an inconvenient and inefficient arena.

And that is where the first narrative begins to spread:

“Cutting lawmakers is a good thing.”

Saving tax money.
Reducing waste.
Making politics more efficient.

All of it is easy to understand.

And precisely because it is easy to understand, it is less likely to be questioned.

What comes next is the handling of caution itself.

Voices warning about distortions in the system.
Voices alarmed by the exclusion of minority opinions.
Voices pointing to the risks of concentrated power.

Such voices are easily framed as

“old politics”
“resistance forces”
“those opposed to reform”

And once that happens, the substance of the debate is replaced by image.

Then the institutional change is carried out.

But what is cut away there is not simply the number of seats.

What gets cut away is:

Entry points for minority voices.
Independent and unaffiliated representation.
Local voices.
The space where dissent can remain within the system.

As a result, politics begins to look “cleaner.”

But that very cleanliness may mean only one thing:

that diverse voices have become less visible.

Large parties grow even stronger.
Those with organized voting blocs become even more advantaged.
The capacity to monitor administrative power grows thinner.

And on the side of the public, another change begins.

Nothing will change anyway.
Whoever is in charge, it is all the same.
My voice does not matter.

That kind of political helplessness spreads.

Turnout falls further.
Political participation declines.
And to that extent, organized interests and entrenched power grow relatively stronger.

What is happening here is not merely an institutional change.

The erosion of democracy itself begins to move in reverse.

The mechanisms that reflect public will become weaker.
As a result, people withdraw from politics.
And the more people withdraw, the more the system becomes something that serves only a part of society.

Once that cycle becomes entrenched,

Elections still exist.
Parliament still exists.
But the capacity to absorb the diversity of society gradually disappears.

This is not a declaration of dictatorship.

Rather, it is a process in which the outward form of democracy remains,
while its substance slowly wastes away from within.

That is why the danger lies not after the collapse, but in the moment when collapse has just begun and is still made to look like “reform.”

■ Conclusion

Cutting lawmakers is not reform. Nor is it efficiency.

It is a policy that quietly carves away at democracy.

And the greatest danger is that it proceeds under the banner of something “good.”

Saving tax money.
Reducing waste.
Simple, easy-to-understand politics.

All of it appears correct.

And yet, what is being lost beneath the surface is rarely discussed.

I feel a strong sense of unease at this point.

The inefficiency of parliament, and the time that democratic debate takes,
may not be things that should be cut away at all.

They may instead be mechanisms intentionally left in place to restrain power.

Japan is, institutionally, a democratic country.

But that does not mean the sensibility needed to sustain that premise is fully shared.

That is exactly why this kind of “efficiency” can advance without being seriously questioned.

And before people notice,

the meaning of the institutions themselves begins to change.

The outward form of democracy remains,

while only its substance is transformed.

The real question is not whether there are too many lawmakers or too few.

The real question is whether this policy strengthens democracy, or weakens it.

That is the one question that must be asked.