Bacchus MindEconomy Chronicle

In a world where most countries leave the decision of shared surnames up to personal preference or a level of social expectation, Japan remains a striking outlier. It is the only country in the world that legally requires married couples to adopt a single surname. Whilst the law technically allows either partner’s name to be chosen, nearly 95% of Japanese couples wind up using the husband’s last name. For many women across Japanese society, who have built careers, reputations, and professional identities, the pressure to change one’s name isn’t merely an inconvenience- it’s a symbol of a legal and cultural system that has not kept pace with modern life.

Since the late 19th century, Japan’s civil code has mandated that married couples must share a surname. A reform in 1947 allowed either surname to be used, but the deeply patriarchal nature of Japan’s social structure meant that little changed in practice. Today, this legal requirement stands at odds with not just individual freedom and gender equality, but with the needs of an advanced economy facing demographic decline, labour shortages, and intensifying global competition.

A Law from Another Era

In May this year, there was a flicker of hope for change. Opposition parties introduced bills that would allow couples to retain separate surnames. Yet once again, the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), heavily influenced by its conservative wing, blocked progress. Despite growing public and business support for reform, the law remains untouched. But each time a legislative opportunity is missed, it only strengthens the resolve of campaigners who argue that the system is outdated, economically inefficient, and socially harmful.

Public opinion continues to shift. Polls show that a strong majority (up to 70–80% in recent surveys) now support giving couples the choice to maintain different surnames. However, this societal change is increasingly colliding with entrenched political ideology. The more public support grows, the more it galvanises the political right to dig in their heels. The issue has evolved beyond a mere legal matter- it’s now morphed into a powerful symbol and cultural flashpoint.

A Hidden Cost to the Economy

While the surname debate may appear like a cultural skirmish, it carries real economic consequences. For professional women, a forced name change can derail career momentum. Updating passports, contracts, academic records, and professional publications is time-consuming and confusing. Some women are forced to operate under two names—one legal, one professional—which creates complications in everything from payroll to authorship to licensing.

Japan’s largest business lobby, Keidanren, has publicly stated that the single-surname requirement “hinders women’s advancement.” As Japan faces one of the world’s most acute labour shortages (particularly with regards to highly skilled and experienced professionals), policies that frustrate half the workforce are becoming increasingly viewed as an industrial liability. Multinational companies, too, are sensitive to global norms and reputational risk. In a country where talent mobility is already constrained, rigid surname laws may appear trivial on the surface, but they subtly signal a society clinging to outdated gender roles. For global partners, this may cast doubt on Japan’s commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion.

Worse still, the policy may be contributing to Japan’s demographic malaise. The country’s rock-bottom birth rate is one of its most urgent macroeconomic challenges. A 2024 study by Asuniwa, an NGO, estimated that some 590,000 people currently cohabiting might legally marry if allowed to keep their own names- unlocking legal protections, inheritance rights, and parental legitimacy. Since Japan continues to stigmatise childbirth outside of marriage, this reform could also have a direct (if modest) impact on fertility rates. The economy, already straining under the weight of an ageing and shrinking population, simply cannot afford more policy-induced barriers to family formation.

Eroding Identity and Trust

The surname rule also has sociological consequences that go far beyond bureaucratic paperwork. For many Japanese citizens, especially women, being forced to give up a rare or meaningful surname upon marriage feels like a loss of identity. I know from my own experience that changing one’s name can be a deeply personal decision. When I married, I chose to take my partner’s surname- a choice made freely, without legal or social compulsion. That autonomy made all the difference. In Japan, however, where the law removes that element of choice, the experience can feel intrusive or even erasing, particularly for those who marry later in life after building a public persona, academic career, or professional reputation under their original name.

The implications run deeper, touching on social trust and entrenched gender norms. For decades, Japan’s legal and social systems assumed a model where men were breadwinners and women stayed home. That era has long passed. Today, most couples share domestic responsibilities, live in urban environments, and both partners work- often as equals. Yet the surname law continues to send a subtle but enduring message: that women’s identities are secondary in the legal and familial hierarchy. This dissonance fuels frustration, especially among younger generations who want a system that reflects the realities of modern life.

Resistance from the Right

Opponents of reform, largely on the political right, argue that sharing a family name is essential for family unity and tradition. At a recent event hosted by Nippon Kaigi, a nationalist group with deep ties to the LDP, one speaker claimed that letting couples use different names would “tear apart traditional values and destroy the country.” He even labelled the reform effort a “Communist plot.”

Such rhetoric reflects a broader fear among Japan’s right wing: that small legal changes could undermine a centuries-old view of family and national identity. A 2023 survey by the conservative Sankei Shimbun even asked children how they would feel if their parents used different surnames. About 49% responded negatively- though critics argue that such questions, when posed in ideological media, may reflect more about framing than child psychology.

The Road Ahead

Japan’s Supreme Court has twice upheld the constitutionality of the surname law, in 2015 and again in 2021. However, both rulings also called on lawmakers to consider growing public support for reform. For now, political reality remains a barrier: reformist LDP members are reluctant to challenge their party’s hard-right flank, particularly in line with the recent upper-house election. Still, the pressure is mounting. Japanese citizens are marrying later, working more equally, and building individual identities that are difficult to erase with a single piece of paperwork. Businesses are vocal, NGOs are mobilised, and support continues to rise among the general population.

This is no longer merely just a question of names. It’s about whether Japan’s laws can evolve to match its social and economic reality- or whether they will continue to hold back a society that desperately needs renewal. Change may not come in one sweeping reform. As demographic pressures build, economic competitiveness sharpens, and public opinion continues to tilt, Japan may eventually be forced to confront the quiet but powerful weight of a name.