Urmas Teder, journalist.
In the corridors of the G7, the narrative is one of total decoupling from Russian hydrocarbons. Yet, in Tokyo, the administration of Sanae Takaichi is quietly practicing a far more nuanced—and controversial—brand of energy diplomacy. While Takaichi remains one of the most hawkish voices against global authoritarianism, her stance on Russian energy projects like Sakhalin-1 and Sakhalin-2 reveals a pragmatic streak that prioritizes national survival over absolute diplomatic alignment.
To understand Takaichi’s position, one must look through the lens of Economic Security. For the Prime Minister, the security of the Japanese state is inextricably linked to the stability of its energy supply. Abandoning the Sakhalin projects, she argues, would not punish Moscow as much as it would wound Tokyo. Her logic is coldly mathematical: if Japan exits, its shares will likely be snapped up by China or India at a discount, while Japan is forced to buy liquefied natural gas (LNG) on the volatile spot market at significantly higher prices.
This strategy relies heavily on the structural power of Japan’s Sogo Shosha. Giants like Mitsui & Co. and Mitsubishi Corp. are not just private entities in this context; they are the frontline operators of Japan’s national interest. By encouraging these conglomerates to maintain their stakes in the Sakhalin ventures despite intense international scrutiny, the Takaichi administration is utilizing the Shosha as a strategic buffer. These firms provide the technical expertise and the long-term contracts that ensure a steady flow of energy, allowing the government to maintain a degree of “plausible deniability” while securing the nation’s energy baseload. For the business community, this signals a return to a more traditional, symbiotic relationship between the state and the trading houses in the name of resource security.
This is not a “bridge-building” exercise in the traditional sense. Takaichi is not seeking a diplomatic thaw or a resolution to the Northern Territories dispute. Instead, she is managing a “necessary evil.” In her view, the Russian energy flow is a vital bridge to Japan’s own energy transition and a crucial buffer against an even greater threat: total dependence on Middle Eastern supply lines or Chinese-controlled green energy chains.
However, this “Energy Realism” places Japan in a delicate position with its Western allies. While Washington and London push for a scorched-earth policy regarding Russian exports, Tokyo’s insistence on maintaining its Sakhalin stakes creates a visible friction within the “like-minded partners” framework. Takaichi’s challenge is to convince the world that Japan can be a frontline state in the defense of the rules-based order while simultaneously paying the Kremlin for the gas that keeps the lights on in Shinjuku.
As Japan navigates the complexities of 2026, the Sakhalin dilemma remains the ultimate test of the “Takaichi Doctrine.” It forces a confrontation between the idealism of international alliances and the harsh realities of a resource-poor island nation. In the end, Takaichi’s message to the world is clear: Japan will stand with the West, but it will not sacrifice its national solvency on the altar of diplomatic symbolism.
