The Narrative Construction of Japan's Security Policy
Despite being the world’s third largest economy and among the top-10 spenders on defence, and having adopted an increasingly muscular international stance, Japan’s security policy receives surprisingly little attention. Moreover, the prevailing view that China’s rise and North Korea’s behaviour caused Japanese remilitarisation is overly simplistic. Drawing on 25 years of research and 25 peer-reviewed journal articles on the topic, I plan to write a book analysing how dominant narratives have shaped Japanese security policy and how certain events and actors have been widely portrayed as watershed events or threats. I will also examine how some actors and narrators became broadly viewed as security experts, while others were seen as amateurs or even traitors. My book fills a gap in the literature and the editors of a Stanford University Press book series have invited me to submit a book proposal, which they are currently reviewing. The book contributes theoretically by establishing how narratives intersect with emotions, reinforcing or undermining a sense of ontological security. Empirically, it contributes by providing a more complex and nuanced analysis of Japan’s security policy, moving away from the binary view either that it is constrained by pacifism or that remilitarisation has changed Japan beyond recognition. I plan to write the proposed book during a sabbatical spent at Waseda University and Cornell University, and apply for funding to cover all related costs.
Final report
World politics is undergoing profound change, and states that identify themselves—and are identified by others—as great powers play a prominent role. In the book manuscript I worked on during my sabbatical, I pose a theoretically general question: how can the behavior of self-identified great powers, and great-power politics as a whole, be explained beyond simplified ideas about what the current situation is assumed to require, or about what is right and wrong? This question is especially pressing at a time when Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is approaching its fifth year, China’s global ambitions continue to generate tensions in and beyond Asia, and the United States’ role in world politics is changing radically.
The book introduces a new way of analyzing great-power politics based on narcissism theory, which in turn is grounded in narrative psychology and Jacques Lacan’s psychoanalysis. It theorizes why certain events come to be perceived as demanding militarization, preparations for war, and sometimes war itself. If we assume that it is impossible to make sense of the world and oneself without emotionally charged narratives, the question also arises whether certain narrative forms or emotional expressions might be more conducive than others to peaceful coexistence.
The book addresses a neglected case of great-power ambition, security-policy change, and potential peaceful development: Japan. The country was indeed used as a case study in the 1980s and 1990s, but primarily to develop theories about how economic drivers and national identity were pushing great-power politics in a more positive direction. Many misjudged—and continue to misjudge—Japan as an inherently peaceful actor in international politics. Over the past two decades, however, Japan has gradually reassessed its security posture, strengthened its military capabilities, and sought a more proactive role in regional and global politics. Japan’s ambitions and strategic reorientation reflect a far more complex self-image than has previously been understood.
I spent the first three months of the sabbatical as a visiting professor at Waseda University in Tokyo. There I began work on the book and supplemented previously collected material by conducting around twenty interviews. Back in Sweden, I spent four months as a visiting professor at the Department of Political Science at Stockholm University, where I focused on theorization, analysis, and writing. I continued this work during a three-month appointment at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities, where I also discussed draft chapters with colleagues. Upon returning to the Swedish Defence University, I wrote a final empirical chapter. Shortly after the sabbatical ended, I held a manuscript workshop and received valuable feedback on the entire manuscript.
Because the book develops a research agenda I have pursued for a long time, it inevitably represents an attempt to bring together disparate elements. At the same time, narratives and counternarratives about threat and security are by nature multifaceted and constantly evolving, making it impossible to capture the phenomenon in its entirety. The book turns necessity into a virtue by analyzing how Japan has been constituted and challenged as a subject through a multiplicity of overlapping, competing, and shifting narratives over the past two decades. Through triangulation and methodological pluralism, the book seeks to achieve a broad and in-depth understanding of the link between Japanese identification and security policy.
Chapter 1 lays the conceptual and theoretical foundation by introducing a set of building blocks: narrative ontology, identification, emotions, and ontological security-seeking. Lacanian psychoanalysis then enables a theorization of why security narratives acquire political force, and the interplay between the imaginary, the symbolic order, and the real is used to explain how identity narratives change over time. The concept of “great power narcissism” offers a more applied version of this framework and highlights how identity narratives in self-identified great powers oscillate between pride and shame: “we are greater than x but weaker than y,” or “we are weak now but destined for greatness.” A complementary perspective is Michel Foucault’s notion of disciplinary power, which is used to illuminate how identification is almost imposed upon the population, both socially and bodily.
Chapter 2 shows how Japanese elite narratives of exceptionalism and superiority, from the mid-nineteenth century onward, expressed great-power ambitions. After the end of the Second World War, some interpreted Japan’s security policy as incompatible with such ambitions, but the book argues that Japanese conservatives instead articulated claims to recognition by emphasizing how Japan’s unique pacifism made it morally superior. These narratives gradually began to erode, especially after the Gulf War of 1990–1991. Under pressure from transnational “master narratives,” Japan’s pacifism was increasingly reinterpreted as “abnormal.” Subsequent chapters analyze in greater depth the desire to become a “normal” state and the process of “normalizing” Japanese security policy.
Chapters 3 and 4 analyze two central critical situations: Kim Jong-il’s 2002 admission that Japanese citizens had been abducted by North Korean agents in the 1970s and 1980s, and the 2010 collision between a Chinese fishing trawler and two Japanese Coast Guard vessels near the disputed Senkaku Islands. These two events are often linked in Japanese identity narratives, as they challenged Japanese identification in similar ways and demanded a reformulation of stories about what Japan is and ought to do.
Chapter 3 shows how, following Kim Jong-il’s admission, North Korea was portrayed not only as a security threat but as violating Japan’s identification as peaceful and innocent. Japan’s commitment to peace was reinterpreted as “defenselessness,” and Japan itself was exposed as “weak” and “emasculated.” For the first time, there was a concrete case in which Japan’s pacifism appeared directly to have caused harm to Japanese citizens. In this context, constitutional revision to enable overseas military interventions—and even Japanese nuclear weapons—was openly discussed. These fantasies revolved not only around security but also around Japan’s autonomy and dignity. Those who challenged the emerging narrative were shamed and accused of betrayal, hindering deeper reflection on Japan’s own historical violence.
Chapter 4 analyzes how the so-called “Senkaku shock” eight years later came to symbolize Japan’s “defeat,” “weakness,” and “decline,” as well as China’s “rise,” “assertiveness,” and “authoritarian character.” Symbolic positions shifted in ways similar to those described in the previous chapter, but this time Japan’s pacifist commitment was articulated as part of a universalist identity in which the country stood for democracy, human rights, and a status quo–oriented order—precisely the values China was seen as violating. In this way, Japanese identity narratives were restructured through a paradoxical logic: the best way to safeguard Japan’s pacifism was to undertake thorough preparations for war. Once again, alternative narratives were marginalized.
Chapter 5 traces the long-term effects of these narratives while also highlighting their multifaceted and often contradictory character. Conservative narratives have portrayed Japan’s neighbors—China, North Korea, and even South Korea—as threats, but also as morally inferior. Japan’s own problem has similarly been framed not only as insufficient war preparedness but also as a lack of status recognition—both in relation to an idealized past and a projected future in which the country would regain its “full sovereignty”. Rather than abandoning the fantasy of pacifism, dominant narratives temporarily succeeded in fusing it with great-power aspirations and the pursuit of “normality” through the expression “proactive contribution to peace.” Over time, this expression became increasingly linked to universal values—sometimes at the expense of the emphasis on peace and sometimes in tension with more particularistic conceptions of Japan.
Chapter 6 broadens the perspective beyond male elites and their state-centered assumptions. It examines widespread counternarratives about security, as articulated by peace organizations as well as individual scholars and activists since the 2010s. Interviews further confirm that these actors are often portrayed as amateurs or traitors and subjected to silencing, ridicule, and sometimes more direct sanctions. The chapter also pays attention to groups that are overlooked in security studies and examines whether, and if so how, traces of counternarratives appear in a survey of members of three women’s organizations and in junior high-school social science textbooks. The analysis shows that traditionally pacifist narratives persist in Japanese society, but also that they are challenged and sometimes overshadowed by dominant security narratives.
The concluding chapter summarizes the book and discusses its broader implications: the risks associated with a particular narrative logic in self-identified great powers, and how this affects their security policies and international politics more generally. A thought experiment inspired by Lacan, pacifist thought and practice, and the Japanese martial art aikido points to alternative ways of relating to insecurity that do not rely on denial, exaggeration, or fantasies of once and for all overcoming weakness. The guiding question is whether states could safeguard their defense without inflating claims to greatness or exceptionalism.
After reading a synopsis, Stanford University Press has expressed interest in evaluating the book in its entirety. In have a complete draft but will devote several more months to addressing the feedback I have received before submitting the manuscript in the summer of 2026.
The book introduces a new way of analyzing great-power politics based on narcissism theory, which in turn is grounded in narrative psychology and Jacques Lacan’s psychoanalysis. It theorizes why certain events come to be perceived as demanding militarization, preparations for war, and sometimes war itself. If we assume that it is impossible to make sense of the world and oneself without emotionally charged narratives, the question also arises whether certain narrative forms or emotional expressions might be more conducive than others to peaceful coexistence.
The book addresses a neglected case of great-power ambition, security-policy change, and potential peaceful development: Japan. The country was indeed used as a case study in the 1980s and 1990s, but primarily to develop theories about how economic drivers and national identity were pushing great-power politics in a more positive direction. Many misjudged—and continue to misjudge—Japan as an inherently peaceful actor in international politics. Over the past two decades, however, Japan has gradually reassessed its security posture, strengthened its military capabilities, and sought a more proactive role in regional and global politics. Japan’s ambitions and strategic reorientation reflect a far more complex self-image than has previously been understood.
I spent the first three months of the sabbatical as a visiting professor at Waseda University in Tokyo. There I began work on the book and supplemented previously collected material by conducting around twenty interviews. Back in Sweden, I spent four months as a visiting professor at the Department of Political Science at Stockholm University, where I focused on theorization, analysis, and writing. I continued this work during a three-month appointment at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities, where I also discussed draft chapters with colleagues. Upon returning to the Swedish Defence University, I wrote a final empirical chapter. Shortly after the sabbatical ended, I held a manuscript workshop and received valuable feedback on the entire manuscript.
Because the book develops a research agenda I have pursued for a long time, it inevitably represents an attempt to bring together disparate elements. At the same time, narratives and counternarratives about threat and security are by nature multifaceted and constantly evolving, making it impossible to capture the phenomenon in its entirety. The book turns necessity into a virtue by analyzing how Japan has been constituted and challenged as a subject through a multiplicity of overlapping, competing, and shifting narratives over the past two decades. Through triangulation and methodological pluralism, the book seeks to achieve a broad and in-depth understanding of the link between Japanese identification and security policy.
Chapter 1 lays the conceptual and theoretical foundation by introducing a set of building blocks: narrative ontology, identification, emotions, and ontological security-seeking. Lacanian psychoanalysis then enables a theorization of why security narratives acquire political force, and the interplay between the imaginary, the symbolic order, and the real is used to explain how identity narratives change over time. The concept of “great power narcissism” offers a more applied version of this framework and highlights how identity narratives in self-identified great powers oscillate between pride and shame: “we are greater than x but weaker than y,” or “we are weak now but destined for greatness.” A complementary perspective is Michel Foucault’s notion of disciplinary power, which is used to illuminate how identification is almost imposed upon the population, both socially and bodily.
Chapter 2 shows how Japanese elite narratives of exceptionalism and superiority, from the mid-nineteenth century onward, expressed great-power ambitions. After the end of the Second World War, some interpreted Japan’s security policy as incompatible with such ambitions, but the book argues that Japanese conservatives instead articulated claims to recognition by emphasizing how Japan’s unique pacifism made it morally superior. These narratives gradually began to erode, especially after the Gulf War of 1990–1991. Under pressure from transnational “master narratives,” Japan’s pacifism was increasingly reinterpreted as “abnormal.” Subsequent chapters analyze in greater depth the desire to become a “normal” state and the process of “normalizing” Japanese security policy.
Chapters 3 and 4 analyze two central critical situations: Kim Jong-il’s 2002 admission that Japanese citizens had been abducted by North Korean agents in the 1970s and 1980s, and the 2010 collision between a Chinese fishing trawler and two Japanese Coast Guard vessels near the disputed Senkaku Islands. These two events are often linked in Japanese identity narratives, as they challenged Japanese identification in similar ways and demanded a reformulation of stories about what Japan is and ought to do.
Chapter 3 shows how, following Kim Jong-il’s admission, North Korea was portrayed not only as a security threat but as violating Japan’s identification as peaceful and innocent. Japan’s commitment to peace was reinterpreted as “defenselessness,” and Japan itself was exposed as “weak” and “emasculated.” For the first time, there was a concrete case in which Japan’s pacifism appeared directly to have caused harm to Japanese citizens. In this context, constitutional revision to enable overseas military interventions—and even Japanese nuclear weapons—was openly discussed. These fantasies revolved not only around security but also around Japan’s autonomy and dignity. Those who challenged the emerging narrative were shamed and accused of betrayal, hindering deeper reflection on Japan’s own historical violence.
Chapter 4 analyzes how the so-called “Senkaku shock” eight years later came to symbolize Japan’s “defeat,” “weakness,” and “decline,” as well as China’s “rise,” “assertiveness,” and “authoritarian character.” Symbolic positions shifted in ways similar to those described in the previous chapter, but this time Japan’s pacifist commitment was articulated as part of a universalist identity in which the country stood for democracy, human rights, and a status quo–oriented order—precisely the values China was seen as violating. In this way, Japanese identity narratives were restructured through a paradoxical logic: the best way to safeguard Japan’s pacifism was to undertake thorough preparations for war. Once again, alternative narratives were marginalized.
Chapter 5 traces the long-term effects of these narratives while also highlighting their multifaceted and often contradictory character. Conservative narratives have portrayed Japan’s neighbors—China, North Korea, and even South Korea—as threats, but also as morally inferior. Japan’s own problem has similarly been framed not only as insufficient war preparedness but also as a lack of status recognition—both in relation to an idealized past and a projected future in which the country would regain its “full sovereignty”. Rather than abandoning the fantasy of pacifism, dominant narratives temporarily succeeded in fusing it with great-power aspirations and the pursuit of “normality” through the expression “proactive contribution to peace.” Over time, this expression became increasingly linked to universal values—sometimes at the expense of the emphasis on peace and sometimes in tension with more particularistic conceptions of Japan.
Chapter 6 broadens the perspective beyond male elites and their state-centered assumptions. It examines widespread counternarratives about security, as articulated by peace organizations as well as individual scholars and activists since the 2010s. Interviews further confirm that these actors are often portrayed as amateurs or traitors and subjected to silencing, ridicule, and sometimes more direct sanctions. The chapter also pays attention to groups that are overlooked in security studies and examines whether, and if so how, traces of counternarratives appear in a survey of members of three women’s organizations and in junior high-school social science textbooks. The analysis shows that traditionally pacifist narratives persist in Japanese society, but also that they are challenged and sometimes overshadowed by dominant security narratives.
The concluding chapter summarizes the book and discusses its broader implications: the risks associated with a particular narrative logic in self-identified great powers, and how this affects their security policies and international politics more generally. A thought experiment inspired by Lacan, pacifist thought and practice, and the Japanese martial art aikido points to alternative ways of relating to insecurity that do not rely on denial, exaggeration, or fantasies of once and for all overcoming weakness. The guiding question is whether states could safeguard their defense without inflating claims to greatness or exceptionalism.
After reading a synopsis, Stanford University Press has expressed interest in evaluating the book in its entirety. In have a complete draft but will devote several more months to addressing the feedback I have received before submitting the manuscript in the summer of 2026.