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That faith is being placed in a decidedly unusual man. At one level, the Prime Minister's appeal is easy to fathom. "He wants to destroy the things people hate the most," says Heizo Takenaka, an economics professor who last spring joined the Cabinet. At the top of that list: the crusty political barons and their backroom deals, the endless paving of highways that go nowhere, schools that stress conformity over creativity. Yet in any time but the present, Koizumi would never have been trusted. He has a reputation as a lone wolf, a bit of an eccentric. In the past, that would have doomed him in a nation where mavericks traditionally have been mistrusted.
"He was always murenai," observes political commentator Nobuhiko Shima, "outside the group. He always went his own way. Now, in Japan, outsiders are respected. It's a big change." Entrepreneurial tycoon Masayoshi Son is Korean; Nissan fix-it man Carlos Ghosn is Brazilian. Both have successfully challenged the traditional rules of Japanese business. "It is the time for the outsiders in Japan," says Shima.
Yet not by even the loosest definition is the Prime Minister a true outsider. He was born into a political family. His grandfather Matajiro was a construction-crew boss with a full-body dragon tattoo. He lived in Yokosuka, a town on Tokyo Bay. Matajiro's florid oratory and populism won him numerous terms in Parliament. He had no sons, but a protege insinuated himself into the family by marrying the old man's daughter. That man was Junya, the father of Koizumi, and he succeeded Matajiro in Parliament. When he died, he left clear instructions for his eldest son: "Certain victory, Junichiro-kun," he wrote.
In fact, Koizumi knew early defeat. He lost his first election in 1969, an embarrassing failure to fill his father's seat. The future Prime Minister was sent off to work for an L.D.P. heavyweight, Takeo Fukuda. Koizumi answered the phone, ran errands and dusted Fukuda's shoes. He finally took his father's place in 1972, but the years with Fukuda were well spent. For an L.D.P. baron, Fukuda was famously incorruptible, and Koizumi watched his mentor lose power to factions of the party that had perfected pork-barrel politics. Koizumi today rants about the waste in government spending largely because he watched his enemies in the biggest L.D.P. faction shove fat contracts to construction bosses who delivered votes and campaign war chests in return.
Koizumi's appeal isn't just about cleaning up politics and fixing the economy. He is also tapping into nationalistic sentiment. He advocates tinkering with the U.S. security pact and the Constitution to give Japan's military more flexibility. Last month he visited Yasukuni, the controversial Shinto war shrine where Japan's war dead, including war criminals, are honored. "You can't overestimate how much patriotism drives his thinking," say Jesper Koll, chief economist with Merrill Lynch in Japan and a Koizumi fan.