This chapter continues Takayama Masayuki’s critique of Japan’s media and political establishment. He argues that Komeito’s withdrawal from the coalition—effectively obstructing the rise of Japan’s first female prime minister—is a historic mistake driven by hypocrisy and political opportunism. The essay critiques Saito Tetsuo’s political-funds scandal and the media’s biased coverage, which targets Takaichi while ignoring dissent within Komeito. Takayama also dismantles the modern debate on selective separate surnames, explaining that historical Japan allowed women to divorce freely, unlike China and Korea, where separate surnames originated from deep-rooted contempt for women. Japan’s tradition, he argues, welcomed wives into the household rather than treating them as possessions.

This is a continuation of the previous chapter.
This essay once again proves that Takayama Masayuki is the one and only postwar journalist, scholar, and writer.

A true act of self-harm.
The Asahi Shimbun is harmful.
It has continued dragging Japan down for decades.
With Takaichi—close to Shinzo Abe—becoming party president, no one knows what kind of insidious attacks the media will launch next.
The road ahead for Takaichi is fraught with difficulties.
Komeito has decided to leave the coalition.
As things stand now (as of October 15), the ones putting a stop to Japan’s first female prime minister are Komeito and Soka Gakkai.
It is a stain on history.
Its leader, Saito Tetsuo, who made the decision, is a habitual offender in political-funds misreporting and is already on the prosecutors’ radar—a dirty politician.
For him to loudly accuse others of “money and politics,” only to then throw down a divorce letter at Takaichi, reeks not only of misogyny but of malicious intent.
Nevertheless, the media ignore dissenting voices within Komeito regarding the coalition split, and instead report only criticism of the Takaichi leadership.
Komeito, with Ikeda Daisaku no longer alive, faces an aging membership.
If they do not cling to Takaichi, they may meet the same fate as the now-vanished Social Democratic Party.
The core of Soka Gakkai doctrine is based on Nichiren.
In the Kamakura period, amid repeated epidemics and natural disasters, Nichiren composed Rissho Ankoku Ron, earnestly wishing for the safety of the nation.
But today’s Soka Gakkai walks a completely opposite path.
Komeito always claims to uphold peace and women’s rights, yet the moment Takaichi becomes party president, they leave the coalition.
This is pure contradiction.
If they cite misreporting of political funds as the reason, then they should have hinted at leaving the coalition during the Ishiba administration.
But Ishiba did not seem to produce any significant achievements.
The intent to block Takaichi from becoming prime minister is far too blatant.
Komeito actively supports the introduction of selective separate surnames for married couples.
The Civil Code already states that either spouse may choose which surname to use upon marriage.
It does not say anywhere, “Choose the man’s surname.”
If women truly insist on keeping their surname, then they can simply have the man adopt the woman’s surname.
If the man dislikes that, then they do not need to marry.
After all, Soka Gakkai even provides guidance on family life.
But they skip that entire discussion and suddenly claim that “women are being unfairly discriminated against.”
It is debate for the sake of debate.
Japan is said to be a male-dominated society, but history shows the opposite.
In the Edo period, women could divorce based on their own will.
There exist many examples of mikudarihan—divorce notices issued by wives to their husbands—and there were even shelters for women seeking divorce.
The best-known one is Tokeiji in Kamakura.
The ideology that preached male dominance came from China—Specifically, Zhu Xi Confucianism, which influenced the samurai class.
In China, wives were regarded as tools for producing descendants.
Therefore, they had no personal names.
As tools for childbirth, they were not even entered into the husband’s family register.
Thus, wives continued using their natal surnames.
Korea copied China and married couples kept separate surnames.
Even Empress Myeongseong, consort to King Gojong of Joseon, entered the palace as a daughter of the Min clan and did not have a personal name of her own.
In other words, in China and Korea, deeply rooted contempt for women is the very reason for separate surnames.
It is not about personal independence at all.
By contrast, in Japan, wives are welcomed as part of the household—as shown by the term kanai, “the one of my home.”
Wives accepted this status and felt no resistance to using the husband’s surname.
(To be continued.)