What do two striking political facts tell us about the mood of the world today?
In Japan, Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi has just won the largest lower house majority in the history of the long-dominant Liberal Democratic Party. In Britain, Keir Starmer — who swept into office a year and a half ago — has sunk to the lowest popularity ratings ever recorded for a British prime minister.
On the surface, the stories seem unrelated. One leader rides a landslide; another struggles to stay afloat. But taken together, they reveal something deeper about the current political moment: Voters prefer rebellion to restoration.
Consider Britain first. After the tumultuous premierships of Boris Johnson, Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak — years marked by Brexit aftershocks, ethics scandals, fiscal panic and revolving-door leadership — Starmer offered something different. The Labour leader was the “keep calm and carry on” candidate. He promised seriousness, stability and competence. He would rebuild institutions, appoint capable ministers and restore Britain’s standing abroad. He would handle America’s volatile politics with quiet firmness. No drama, no ideological fireworks — just adult supervision.
And, by conventional measures, he delivered. Markets stabilized. Cabinet government returned. Policy was sober and incremental. Yet the public mood did not follow. Dissatisfaction lingered. Within months, Starmer’s net favorability ratings plunged into deeply negative territory.
The promise of seasoned competence also took a blow when one of Labour’s most prominent figures — Peter Mandelson, long seen as the ultimate insider — faced renewed scrutiny over his past ties to Jeffrey Epstein. For many voters, that episode reinforced a suspicion that restoration meant the return of the same interconnected elites they had already rejected. Most voters now say Starmer should resign, and only 34 percent say he should stay, according to a Politico poll.
The bigger problem for Britain is structural. Immigration has been the rocket fuel of populism across the West. Britain recorded net migration of nearly 950,000 in the year ending in March 2023 — an astonishing figure for a country that had voted for Brexit partly to “take back control” of its borders. Cosmopolitan elites appeared, in many voters’ eyes, to have mismanaged the issue. That sense of betrayal has not faded.
Add to that Europe’s long flirtation with austerity. After the 2008 financial crisis, Britain — like much of Europe — embraced fiscal restraint. Spending was squeezed, public investments cut and real wages stagnated for much of a decade. GDP per capita lagged far behind the United States, which opted for far larger stimulus packages during the recession. The result was a slow-burn malaise that eroded trust in the political class.
Now look at Japan. Takaichi ran not on managerial calm but on confrontation. She spoke in fiery tones about immigration — even though Japan’s foreign-born population hovers around 3 percent, a fraction of Britain’s. She warned of cultural erosion and social strain. She took a harder rhetorical line on China. She promised disruption in economic policy after decades of cautious incrementalism.
The electorate rewarded her with the largest lower house majority the LDP has ever received.
Part of the appeal is symbolic. Japan remains, by global standards, a patriarchal society. A woman leading the government is itself a rupture. The image signals change, even if the party machinery beneath remains intact. In an era hungry for novelty, symbolism carries power.
There are real differences between Britain and Japan. Japan never experienced immigration on the scale that destabilized Western politics. Nor did it embrace austerity in the European style. It did suffer from economic stagnation in recent decades that caused unease, but the causes and effects were different from the austerity-induced stagnation that fueled Western anger. Japan’s ongoing stimulus programs shielded it from the anger produced by austerity economics.
These structural contrasts matter. But they may matter less today than atmosphere.
Across advanced democracies, incumbents struggled at unusually high rates in 2024, a big year for global elections. Voters are restless. They are less interested in policy detail than in emotional validation. Restoration speaks to the head; rebellion speaks to the gut. In this moment, the gut is winning.
Japan’s prime minister has shifted the vibe. Despite her party’s longtime dominance, she projects motion, disruption and defiance. Starmer projects steadiness and repair. In calmer times, that contrast might favor Britain’s approach. In this moment, it does not.
Politics runs in cycles. The appetite for rupture may fade once its costs become clear. But for now, in countries as different as Britain and Japan, the mood is unmistakable. In an age of anxiety, voters prefer rebellion to restoration. As the Democrats look forward to the midterms, they should keep this in mind.
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