As Japan approaches voting day for its 51st House of Representatives election on February 8, the campaign has entered its final stretch—known locally as “Golden Week.” Yet for observers familiar with Taiwan's high-energy, face-to-face election culture, the Japanese campaign has delivered a series of moments that feel less like routine politics and more like cultural whiplash.
A succession of online firestorms—commonly referred to in Japan as enjō (えんじょう）—has turned ordinary campaign behavior into national controversies. Door-to-door canvassing has been framed as criminal conduct. A proposal to distribute menstrual products has been denounced as “communist.” A former governor was publicly reprimanded by central ministries and local police for shoveling snow into a roadway to make space for a campaign speech. At one point, even cabinet-level officials were forced to rely on official videos from the Prime Minister's Office to counter viral misinformation.
Taken together, these episodes have exposed a striking gap between Taiwan and Japan—not only in campaign tactics, but in how democracy is regulated, practiced, and socially understood.
Ground Campaigning: A Taiwanese Norm, a Japanese Prohibition
Taiwan will also hold local elections later this year, and familiar scenes are already appearing: candidates handing out tissues at street corners, visiting households, and ringing doorbells to introduce themselves. In Taiwan, this kind of “ground game” is not optional. Candidates who fail to personally walk neighborhoods and meet voters risk being labeled arrogant or disconnected—and are often doomed at the ballot box.
In Japan, the same behavior can end a political career.
During this campaign, the team of independent candidate Hirano Uryu, running in Oita's 3rd district, was accused of conducting door-to-door visits within the constituency. The allegation quickly triggered heated debate on social media. Under Article 138 of Japan's Public Offices Election Law, door-to-door canvassing is strictly prohibited to prevent vote-buying and public disturbance. Violators may face penalties of up to one year in prison or even the nullification of an election result.
Although the law has survived past constitutional challenges, it remains controversial. Supporters argue that it preserves procedural fairness and prevents harassment, while critics see it as excessively restrictive. The debate reflects a distinctly Japanese electoral ethos—one that prioritizes orderliness and avoiding inconvenience to others over personal voter contact.
Menstrual Products and the Limits of Public Assistance
Another flashpoint emerged over policy rather than tactics. Tamaki Yuichiro, leader of the Democratic Party for the People, proposed using public funds to distribute menstrual products as a way to address period poverty.
In Taiwan, similar policies are no longer contentious. Under former president Tsai Ing-wen, the government actively promoted menstrual equity, with the Ministry of Education providing free menstrual products in schools nationwide starting in 2023. The initiative is widely viewed as a matter of basic dignity and gender equality.
In Japan, however, the proposal sparked intense backlash. Critics online labeled it “communist” or “socialist,” questioning why tax revenue should be used for a gender-specific policy. Others argued that tax cuts would be preferable to expanding public assistance, underscoring Japan's deeply rooted emphasis on self-reliance and user-pays principles.
The controversy widened further due to Tamaki's past adultery scandal and the party's choice of campaign imagery, which drew criticism from female voters. Even promotional graphics addressing pornographic advertising were mocked online as resembling scam ads, turning intended policy communication into a public-relations setback.
Snow Shovels, AI Dogs, and Administrative Enforcement
The most surreal episode came from Niigata. On January 28, former Niigata governor and current 4th-district candidate Yoneyama Ryuichi shoveled snow from the roadside into the roadway to clear space for a street speech. The act immediately triggered accusations of violating traffic regulations.
What followed drew widespread attention. Just one day earlier, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism's Hokuriku Regional Development Bureau had released an AI-generated public-service video featuring a stern Shiba Inu warning viewers not to throw snow onto roads. After the controversy erupted, the Niigata Prefectural Police's traffic division reinforced the message with its own viral post.
The timing was so uncanny that netizens joked about the “state apparatus using an AI Shiba Inu to publicly discipline a candidate.” While Taiwan is unlikely to encounter snow-related campaign violations, the spectacle of authorities publicly intervening in campaign behavior remains rare by Taiwanese standards.
Misinformation and an Unusually Direct Government Response
The election has also highlighted how misinformation now spreads—and how Japan's government has chosen to respond. Economic Security Minister Onoda Kimi, known for her hardline stance against illegal overstays, became the target of right-wing opposition attacks. Street speeches and viral posts falsely accused her of advocating the admission of 600,000 immigrants annually, with online accounts circulating photos from private dinner gatherings as supposed proof.
Onoda publicly refuted the claims, explaining that one gathering was a meeting of judo therapists and reiterating that she had never made such statements. What stood out was the official escalation that followed. The Prime Minister's Office released a video featuring Onoda herself clarifying government policy, while the Liberal Democratic Party amplified explanations through its official channels.
The coordinated response reflected the political sensitivity of immigration issues in Japan, where concerns over foreign residents have become a central campaign theme and fueled the rise of hardline parties in recent years.
Two Democracies, Two Operating Logics
None of these incidents alone will determine the outcome of Japan's election. Collectively, however, they reveal how two mature democracies can function according to very different assumptions—about fairness, public intervention, personal contact, and the boundaries of acceptable campaigning.
In Taiwan, democracy is relational, physical, and intensely personal. In Japan, it is tightly regulated, procedurally cautious, and deeply averse to disruption. For Taiwanese observers, the contrast may feel jarring. For international readers, it serves as a reminder that democratic practice is not a single model, but a set of culturally embedded systems shaped by very different social logics.
