“My Wife Said She Doesn’t Know What’s Right Anymore…”
This morning, over a bowl of miso soup, my wife looked up and said, “I don’t know what’s right anymore these days.” On TV, it was the usual mix of SDGs, LGBT rights, immigration praise, and the buzz about legalizing separate surnames for married couples. All paraded as “progress.”
Then, barely five minutes later, she mumbled, “I feel like the neighborhood’s gotten a little more dangerous lately.”
Well, that stopped my chopsticks mid-air.
Something’s off. Japan is losing its sense of self. Traditions are whispered about like crimes. Cultural pride is mistaken for exclusion. And the worst part? No one dares to protest. Or rather, they can’t. Not without risking social and professional ruin.
But amid this suffocating silence, a surprising thing is happening. Japan’s Conservative Party is drawing thousands to its street speeches every single week. That’s not normal. That’s not politics-as-usual. That’s instinct. It’s the people silently realizing: “Japan won’t survive like this.”
And at the center of this quiet storm, waving the flag to protect Japan’s soul—stands the Conservative Party of Japan.
After the Assassination, After the Silence
When Shinzo Abe was assassinated in 2022, something died with him. Not just a man, but a mission. A vision. A challenge to Japan’s postwar spell of self-denial.
Abe wasn’t just a prime minister. He was a symbol of hope for conservatives who believed Japan could be strong again. That it could shake off the shackles of guilt imposed after WWII. That it could become an adult nation, proud of its past, sovereign in its future.
Together with Donald Trump, Abe briefly created a crack in the liberal world order. Trump’s “America First” mirrored Abe’s call to escape the postwar regime. They weren’t just politicians. They were torchbearers of a global nationalist revival—each defying the faceless machinery of globalism.
And then, within two years:
- Trump lost his re-election.
- Abe was assassinated.
Coincidence? Some might say so. But the effect was too precise, too surgical. With Abe gone, his faction (Seiwakai) collapsed. The Liberal Democratic Party turned technocratic. Conservative ideals were vacuumed out of parliament.
And in their place?
Legal gender changes. Promotion of LGBT ideology. Loosened immigration controls.
All passed under the same “conservative” party name.
This isn’t just political drift. It’s a psychological reoccupation. A second War Guilt Information Program (WGIP) unfolding not with tanks, but hashtags. If you’ve never heard of WGIP, ask ChatGPT or try a search. It won’t be in your textbook, but it shaped modern Japan more than any law.
Now, unless someone keeps that fire lit—tending the embers with truth and courage—Japan as we knew it may not survive.
Globalism’s Silent Invasion
Today’s Japan—honestly, sometimes I can’t even tell what country I’m in.
Our ports, farmland, and even water supplies are being bought up by Chinese capital. Our schools are pushing “global standards” that erase national values. Turn on the TV, and you’ll hear, “We need to be more inclusive,” “Traditions must evolve.”
And then, back at home, my wife says, “You know, I felt prouder to be Japanese back in the day.”
Now, I’m not saying diversity is bad. Or that Japan should shut its doors. But when citizens are too scared to say “I love my culture”—we’ve gone off the rails.
Even parties calling themselves “conservative” are doing little more than toeing the line of global finance and big industry. They speak English in backrooms and avoid speaking plainly to their people.
In the old days, we had a word for this kind of politics.
Betrayal.
At this point, there’s only one real alternative:
“Make Japan strong and rich again.”
If we truly want our children to inherit a country they can love—then that is the only road left.
A Future Hanging by a Thread
Still, I haven’t given up.
Not yet. If anything, I believe now is the turning point.
Yes, our political system is creaking. Yes, our media is rigged for narratives. Yes, our youth are being raised without a sense of history.
But across Japan, sparks are lighting up. In cafes. On the streets. Online. Even in the old izakayas. People are quietly asking, “What happened to our country?”
These aren’t just complaints. They’re the beginning of a fire.
Because ideas burn. They travel. They ignite.
And those who see the truth now must become lighthouses. To guide others. To be the first flame.
This is why support for the Conservative Party is growing—not because of clever slogans, but because they carry no lies. Their message is simple: “Let Japan be proud again.”
A miracle of awakening?
It’s already begun.
If you want your children to live in a Japan worth defending, if you feel in your gut that something is wrong, then don’t wait.
Don’t say, “Someone should fix this.” Say, “I will.”
The flag at the end of this awakening—its color, its spirit—I think deep down, you already know what it looks like.