The numbers come first. Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi says she sleeps as few as zero to three hours a night, rarely leaves her official residence, and conducts meetings with staff at all hours — all in the name of maximizing efficiency. The market for public trust, however, has already voted against the strategy.
Takaichi moved into the official residence — a brick-and-stone mansion that opened in 1929 and once served as the original prime minister's office — in December. Writing on X, she described the arrangement as ideal: no commute, immediate access to her office next door, and the ability to respond to emergencies without delay. 'To me, the official residence is also a workplace,' she posted.
She has reinforced office functions inside the residence so she can hold meetings, review documents, and work remotely or in person with staff beyond normal office hours. The setup, she argues, is a practical solution to an impossibly heavy schedule.
But the self-portrait of relentless dedication has backfired. Takaichi's own disclosure on X that she carries a homemaking burden on top of her prime ministerial workload — sleeping as little as zero hours on some nights — drew sharp criticism that Japan's first female leader was modeling precisely the wrong lesson on work-life balance and gender equality.
The political headwinds go beyond optics. Media reports indicate Takaichi has been avoiding parliamentary sessions and has had significantly fewer interactions with lawmakers and officials than her predecessors. Rather than engaging the press, she communicates policy through X posts. The combination of physical absence from the legislature and digital-only messaging has fed a perception of a leader governing from a bunker.
Her policy choices have compounded the damage. Takaichi has pushed a revision to the Imperial House Law reinforcing a male-only succession system — an unpopular move — while delaying economic measures to address rising prices, the issue most immediately felt by ordinary Japanese households. Support ratings have dropped rapidly as a result.
On a lighter note, Takaichi acknowledged the residence's storied reputation: the building was the site of two bloody coup attempts in the 1930s and is said to be haunted. 'I've never seen a ghost,' she said, 'but I have often screamed because of my encounters with cockroaches. I was shocked when a cockroach ran past my feet.'
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CEO Times' read: A leader who never sleeps and never leaves the office is not a symbol of strength — it is a symptom of a government that has confused activity with results. Takaichi's approval collapse is a direct consequence of misplaced priorities: symbolic culture-war legislation over the bread-and-butter economic relief Japanese consumers are demanding. Free enterprise and stable governance require leaders who engage institutions, communicate clearly, and deliver on the economic fundamentals. Isolation, however industrious, is not a policy. The cockroaches, it turns out, are the least of her problems.
