Within minutes of opening its doors, a farm produce co-operative in the seaside town of Atami, south-west of Tokyo, had sold out of its government-subsidised rice. The queue had begun hours earlier, and the 3kg bags—offered at just a slight discount from supermarket prices—vanished in a flash.
“This will only last us a couple of weeks,” said Yujiro Osaki, 46, clutching his bag of rice. “It’s a ridiculous situation for Japan to be in.”
What was once a stable staple of the Japanese diet is now at the centre of a political and economic storm. As reported by the Financial Times, the nation is grappling with unprecedented rice inflation and widespread consumer frustration—issues that could shape the outcome of July’s upper-house elections.
The crisis stems from a convergence of factors: a poor 2023 harvest, the end of Japan’s decades-long deflationary era, and retailers’ newfound willingness to raise prices. The result: the average price for a 60kg bag of 2024-harvested rice has surged to over ¥26,400 ($184)—an all-time high.
While Japan is not facing a true shortage, supply constraints are evident. Strategic reserves, typically used during natural disasters, have been tapped for the first time for non-emergency purposes. When this rice hit shelves last weekend, it triggered hours-long queues at supermarkets across the country. In Osaka, images of the massive lines underscored the urgency of the crisis.
Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba has responded with a political shake-up, appointing Shinjiro Koizumi as the new agriculture minister. Koizumi, the charismatic son of former premier Junichiro Koizumi, has been tasked with spearheading rice policy reform. A special cabinet committee has been formed to develop long-term solutions.
The political ramifications are stark. After domestic rice prices nearly doubled in 2024, the government’s approval ratings have plummeted. Analysts say the public outcry over food inflation could heavily influence the upcoming election.
Decades of policy aimed at protecting domestic farmers—primarily by limiting rice imports and encouraging price stability—have come under fire. Critics point to the long-defunct set-aside programme, which incentivised farmers not to grow rice to maintain high prices. Though ended in 2018, the policy’s legacy still shapes today’s shortages.
“The set-aside programme was always the problem,” said Kazuhito Yamashita of the Canon Institute of Global Studies. “If Japan had shifted to subsidies, farmers could have expanded operations and reduced costs. We might have even become a top-tier rice exporter.”
Despite making up less than 1 per cent of the population today—down from 4.4 per cent in 1976—Japan’s farmers remain a potent political force. The country’s electoral system disproportionately favours rural constituencies, amplifying their voice in policymaking. Kunio Nishikawa, an agricultural expert at Ibaraki University, believes the farmer lobby’s unity has only increased with its shrinking size.
However, with rising public awareness and growing consumer discontent, momentum for reform may be building. “Because this rice crisis is being discussed nationwide, not just among farmers, I expect policy change will progress,” Nishikawa said.
Still, any reform must balance the interests of producers and consumers. Tobias Harris of Japan Foresight notes that Ishiba and Koizumi must act carefully to avoid alienating either group before the election. “They need to placate both sides—and fast.”
Meanwhile, competition among rice buyers is heating up. Co-operatives, which command about 40 per cent of the market, are scrambling to secure stock directly from farmers at prices they cannot afford to undercut. Supermarkets face empty shelves and reluctant customers, many of whom are being encouraged to switch to cheaper staples like noodles and bread.
Back in Atami, an elderly couple left the co-op empty-handed. “We asked them when the next sale would be,” said the husband. “They said they didn’t know.”
As Japan’s rice crisis stretches on, uncertainty grows—not just for shoppers, but for a government already on the defensive. The humble grain has become a national flashpoint, and how Japan’s leaders handle it could define the country’s political and economic trajectory in the months ahead.
