Prime Minister Takaichi Sanae’s decision to move Japan’s defense-spending target of two percent of GDP two years earlier—from fiscal 2027 to the current fiscal year—is more than a headline. It reflects a growing unease in Tokyo about the shifting dynamics of the U.S.–Japan alliance and the limits of relying on Washington as the region’s security guarantor.
In her first policy address, Takaichi pledged to raise defense spending to two percent of GDP by March rather than by fiscal year 2027. She also vowed to revise Japan’s three key security-policy documents by 2026, compressing a previously decade-long reform cycle. The message is clear: Tokyo believes its security environment is moving faster than its bureaucratic cycle. But it also reflects a deeper shift: Tokyo is not just acting out of regional threat perceptions, but out of concern that Washington’s capacity—not only its credibility—to uphold the post-Cold War order may be eroding.
Threats on the doorstep
Since the 2022 National Security Strategy, Japan has signaled readiness to do more—develop counter-strike capabilities, deepen cooperation with the United States, and expand security ties with other likeminded countries. As Tokyo Review contributor Ryan Ashley noted, the “era of dependence on the United States appears to be over.”
China’s maritime and aerospace assertiveness, North Korea’s missile and nuclear programs, and Russia’s war in Ukraine (and its implications for a Taiwan contingency) all factor into Tokyo’s sense of urgency. These are longstanding, but their pace, scale, and unpredictability have been increasing.
Tokyo is also reading shifts in Washington’s posture. While the United States remains essential, Japanese officials see a growing capacity risk: Washington may simply lack the bandwidth to sustain its commitments at past levels. As one Japanese think-tank analysis warned, “merely adopting the status quo Plan A [i.e., relying on the U.S.-Japan alliance] is not a reliable option.”
Reliability vs. capacity
Commentary on alliance anxiety often focuses on credibility—doubts about whether the U.S. would really defend Japan under Trump. Yet Tokyo’s concern cuts deeper, toward capacity: can the U.S. maintain the industrial, fiscal, and technological power to back its promises?
For decades Tokyo’s security calculations were built on the assumption (albeit not unchallenged) of a robust U.S. forward presence, exceptional capabilities, and enduring political-military engagement. But the structural limits to enduring U.S. military primacy are becoming clear. Officials in Tokyo have taken note of Washington’s worry that its defense industrial base can’t keep pace with China’s buildup—what Kurt Campbell and Rush Doshi term the need for “allied scale.” The implication: America can no longer outproduce China alone, and partners like Japan must share the load. As one retired Ministry of Defense official put it: “while the U.S. role is critical for regional stability, it could not be achieved by the U.S. alone or just by the Japan-U.S. alliance cooperation.”
That is the logic behind Japan’s “own timeline” acceleration: if the U.S. might be capacity-constrained or diverted elsewhere by priorities in Europe, the Middle East or South America (the Trump Administration recently ordered what has been described as “the largest U.S. naval deployment in the region since the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis”), then Tokyo must act before its own security margin for error vanishes.
Public sentiment mirrors this elite unease. A Yomiuri Shimbun poll in June found only 22 percent of respondents “somewhat” or “greatly” trust Washington—the lowest since 2000. An Asahi Shimbun survey showed 77 percent do not believe the United States would defend Japan in a crisis. The anxiety over American staying power runs from Kasumigaseki to kitchen tables.
A continuum in Tokyo
Japan’s strategic recalibration predates both Takaichi and Trump. In 2022, former Prime Minister Abe Shinzō urged that Japan at least debate a NATO-style “nuclear-sharing” arrangement with the United States. More recently, former Prime Minister Ishiba Shigeru floated an “Asian NATO,” integrating the U.S.–Japan alliance with the U.S.-Australia-New Zealand treaty alliance to bind Washington more tightly to regional security.
Though controversial, these ideas reflect longstanding impatience with the limits of an outdated model. Takaichi’s acceleration fits this continuum: if the alliance’s architecture is static while U.S. capacity erodes, Japan must adjust on its own timetable.
Under the 2022 security documents, Tokyo pledged to raise “security-related spending” (including the Coast Guard) to two percent of GDP by 2027—a 60 percent jump. Takaichi’s revision brings that target forward two years.
That acceleration matters for three reasons:
- Urgency – the threats are immediate.
- Irreversibility – higher spending will be politically harder to unwind.
- Timing – defense-capability lags grow more dangerous as rivals move faster.
For Japan, whose post-war norm had been around one percent of GDP, this is a historic shift. The move from dependence toward greater responsibility (or at least greater contribution) aligns with Tokyo’s desire to be seen not simply as a junior partner but as a more equal actor in the alliance.
The accelerated approach carries real risks. Japan already bears the world’s highest public-debt ratio. Accelerating defense outlays could crowd out social-welfare and growth priorities—or trigger backlash if citizens see few tangible results. With household frustration over inflation and wages near a boiling point, the age-old “guns-versus-butter” dilemma is as relevant as ever.
Capability timelines are another hurdle: buying advanced systems is one thing; integrating them into a joint deterrent is another. Aligning U.S. and Japanese doctrine, procurement, and industry remains a steep climb. Misalignment could deepen friction rather than strengthen deterrence.
Implications for the U.S.–Japan alliance and the region
For Washington, Japan’s move is both an opportunity and a warning. Greater Japanese capability could enable creative thinking on how to re-map alliance roles and missions—leveraging each side’s comparative advantages rather than merely dividing labor by geography or budget. Yet it also exposes Tokyo’s doubts about U.S. capacity and commitment, a caution light for alliance managers.
For the broader region, Japan’s accelerated defense buildup could mark a subtle but meaningful shift in the regional balance of deterrence. A more capable Japanese Self Defense Force, an invigorated defense industrial base, and tighter integration with other U.S. allies (Australia, South Korea, the Philippines) all point toward a more credible regional security architecture.
Japan’s calendar may now be compressed, but the stakes have always been high
In accelerating its defense-spending timeline and strategic document-revisions, Japan is sending a clear message: it intends to meet the moment, not defer it. The decision is not merely about appeasing U.S. pressure or echoing “burden-sharing” rhetoric. It reflects Tokyo’s view that U.S. capacity—not just credibility—is under strain, and that urgency now outweighs the comfort of gradualism.
This does not signal a break from the alliance. Tokyo still calls the U.S.–Japan partnership the “cornerstone” of its security policy. Rather, Japan is recalibrating—from reliance to “indispensable partnership,” from beneficiary to contributor, and from incrementalism to accelerated execution.
For policymakers in both capitals, this means treating Japan not as a dependent ally that will follow the U.S. lead, but as a rising strategic actor increasingly aware of its own agency and the constraints on its partner. If the United States hopes to rely on Japan as a pillar of the Indo-Pacific order, it must match Japan’s sense of urgency with sustained capacity, clarity of direction, and alignment of strategic intent.
Japan’s calendar may now be compressed, but the stakes have always been high. The coming years will show whether Tokyo’s gamble of “faster is safer” pays off—and whether the U.S.-Japan alliance remains equal to the speed of history unfolding around it.
Jada Cryslynn Fraser is a Ph.D. student in the Department of Political Science and International Relations at the University of Southern California. Previously, she was an Associate in The Asia Group’s Japan Practice, advising clients on Japan’s foreign and defense policy, critical and emerging technologies, and digital services. Before that, she served as Country Director for Japan in the Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Policy, where her portfolio covered U.S.–Japan coordination across Indo-Pacific minilaterals. She also worked at U.S. Indo-Pacific Command, the Reischauer Center for East Asian Studies, and the Center for Strategic and International Studies. Her work has appeared in War on the Rocks, Nikkei Asia, and the Lowy Institute. Jada is the Indo-Pacific Minilaterals Fellow with the Yokosuka Council on Asia-Pacific Studies (YCAPS) and a Pacific Forum Young Leader. She holds a B.A. in International Relations and Global Studies from the University of Texas at Austin and an M.A. in Asian Studies from Georgetown University’s Walsh School of Foreign Service.
