The
Bank of Japan has not been choosing caution.
It has been managing a set of structural contradictions so severe that
any significant rate hike would trigger consequences most policymakers would
prefer not to see in their lifetimes. This
is not a defence of the Bank of Japan.
It is an autopsy of the decisions that put it here.
Thirty
Years of Self-Inflicted Anaesthesia
Japan’s
“Lost Decade” came about because the medicine kept changing but the patient
refused to change its habits. The asset
bubble burst in 1991. Property values
collapsed. Equity markets followed. The policy response was to cut rates — and
keep cutting. The Bank of Japan took the
policy rate to zero in 1999. It
introduced quantitative easing in 2001.
It went to negative rates in 2016.
It launched yield curve control in the same year, capping ten-year
Japanese Government Bond yields at 0.1 per cent, then 0.25 per cent, then 0.5
per cent, in an escalating series of interventions designed to keep borrowing
costs low while stimulating inflation it conspicuously failed to generate.
For
two decades, Japan fought deflation with increasing desperation. Consumers, expecting prices to fall, deferred
spending. Firms, uncertain of demand,
deferred investment. Banks, sitting on
mountains of zombie-company debt, deferred lending. The entire economy learned to wait. The Bank of Japan enabled all of it.
Explaining
the Paralysis
Japan’s
national debt stood at ¥1,342 trillion at the end of December 2025 — a new
record. The International Monetary Fund
places Japan’s debt-to-GDP ratio at 230 per cent, the highest among developed
economies. The Ministry of Finance
projects debt will reach ¥1,473 trillion by March 2026. Now consider what happens when interest rates
rise. Japan’s Finance Ministry projects
interest payments on government bonds will reach ¥16.1 trillion in fiscal 2028
— 1.5 times the fiscal 2025 level. Debt-servicing costs, including principal
repayment, are projected to hit ¥35.3 trillion, which is nearly 30 per cent of
total government spending. A developed
economy spending nearly one yen in three on debt service is not pursuing
monetary policy. It is managing a slow
fiscal haemorrhage. Every percentage
point the Bank of Japan raises its policy rate tightens the tourniquet on the
government’s budget. The government that
sets the Bank of Japan's mandate is the same government bleeding from that
tourniquet. The institutional
independence of the Bank of Japan is, in this context, a politely maintained
fiction.
Professor
Kazuo Ueda became Governor of the Bank of Japan in April 2023, succeeding
Haruhiko Kuroda, who had spent ten years building the most aggressive monetary
stimulus programme in modern central banking history. Kuroda left Ueda a US$5.7 trillion balance
sheet, a policy rate of negative 0.1 per cent, yield curve control that was
actively distorting the Japanese government bond market, and a yen that had
collapsed to its weakest level in thirty-two years. The yen hit 151 against the US dollar in
October 2022. It was the currency’s
lowest point since 1990. The Bank of
Japan did not raise rates. It intervened
in the foreign exchange market instead, spending trillions of yen defending a
currency level that the market regarded as absurd given the interest rate
differential between Japan and everywhere else.
Intervention is expensive. It is
also temporary. It does not fix the
underlying problem.
The
underlying problem was this: while the US Federal Reserve raised rates from
near zero to over five per cent between March 2022 and July 2023, the Bank of
Japan held its rate at negative 0.1 per cent.
The interest rate differential made the yen carry trade — borrow cheaply
in yen, invest at higher yields elsewhere — one of the most crowded positions
in global markets. In August 2024, when
the Bank of Japan finally raised its rate to 0.25 per cent and signalled
further tightening, the carry trade unwound with notable violence. Japanese equities fell 12 per cent in a
single session on 5 August 2024 — the Nikkei’s worst day since the 1987
crash. Global markets followed. The Bank of Japan, rattled by the reaction,
rapidly softened its language. A central
bank that raises its rate by 25 basis points and triggers a global market event
is not operating from a position of strength.
It is demonstrating how much leverage has been built on the assumption
of its perpetual inaction.
The
Bank of Japan’s defenders argue that Japan needs low rates to stimulate the
economy. This argument has a fundamental
problem: three decades of near-zero rates produced none of the stimulation
promised. Real GDP growth was below 1
per cent in 2024. GDP contracted at a
0.2 per cent annualised rate in the first quarter of 2025. Japan’s labour productivity ranks last among
G7 economies, at 60 per cent of US levels.
Private consumption, 55 per cent of GDP, has grown at a pace that
statisticians generously describe as modest.
The economy’s structural problems are demographic, not monetary. Japan’s population peaked near 128 million
and stood at 124 million in 2023. The
fertility rate is 1.3 against a replacement level of 2.1. Nearly one third of the population is over
65. The working-age population is
shrinking. Potential GDP growth is
estimated near 0.5 per cent per annum.
You
cannot cut your way to a younger population.
You cannot QE your way out of a demographic collapse. Low interest rates do not produce children. What low rates did produce was asset price
inflation that benefited existing wealth holders, a zombie-company ecosystem
that prevented capital from being redeployed to productive uses, and a currency
so weak that real wages — already thin — were further compressed by import
costs. Real wages in Japan fell 3 per
cent in the year to mid-2025, even as headline inflation ran above 3 per
cent. Rice prices rose over 100 per cent
year-on-year as of May 2025. The Bank of
Japan spent thirty years fighting deflation.
It arrived on the other side to find that the inflation it created was
the imported, cost-push variety — the kind that squeezes households without
generating the demand-pull growth the stimulus was meant to produce.
The
spring 2024 wage negotiations — Shunto — delivered pay increases of 5.2
per cent, the highest in three decades, which the Bank of Japan cited as a
green light for its March 2024 decision to end negative rates. Total wages then rose 1 per cent in the year
to May 2025. Nominal gains do not
survive the translation to real terms when inflation is above 3 per cent.
What
“Caution” Looks Like
The
Bank of Japan ended negative rates in March 2024. It raised its policy rate to 0.1 per
cent. Then to 0.25 per cent. Then to 0.5 per cent by the end of 2025. As of January 2026, the rate held at 0.75 per
cent, with one board member, Hajime Takata, proposing a further hike and
finding no support among his colleagues.
Governor Ueda, asked about the pace of future increases, replied that “there
is uncertainty on how far we can eventually raise interest rates.” He is correct. The uncertainty is structural. A government bond market that requires the
central bank as a permanent buyer cannot absorb a rate normalisation at the
pace that inflation would otherwise warrant.
A government spending nearly 30 per cent of its budget on debt service
cannot absorb a significant increase in borrowing costs without cutting the
social security, public works, and education spending that the ageing
population demands.
The
Bank of Japan is not being cautious. It
is navigating a set of constraints that thirty years of prior policy choices
made inescapable. The question “has the
Bank of Japan been too cautious?” is the wrong question. The right question is: who created the
conditions in which decisive action became impossible? The answer is the Bank of Japan itself,
through two decades of yield curve control, asset purchases, and negative rates
that trained markets, government, and industry to depend on cheap money as a
permanent operating condition. Ueda did
not build this trap. He inherited
it. He is, by all accounts, trying to
exit it without triggering the crisis that a faster exit would produce. Whether he succeeds is another matter. Japan's government bond yields surged in
early 2026, reflecting precisely the fiscal tension that any rate normalisation
makes visible. The market is doing the
work the Bank of Japan will not. Markets
are less patient than central bankers.
They are also less polite.
The
Assessment
Japan
needs low rates the way a man with a broken leg needs crutches: not because
crutches fix the leg, but because removing them before the leg heals causes the
patient to collapse. The leg has not
healed. It may not heal. The structural reforms that would allow Japan
to normalise rates — immigration policy, labour market flexibility, corporate
governance, fiscal consolidation — have been discussed for thirty years and
implemented at a pace that suggests nobody in authority is particularly serious
about them.
The
Bank of Japan is the last institution standing between Japan’s current
trajectory and a fiscal crisis of uncomfortable proportions. It is performing that function by keeping
rates low enough that the government’s debt-servicing bill remains
manageable. This is not monetary
policy. It is fiscal support dressed in
monetary clothing. Too cautious? No.
Too late to have many good options left?
That is the more accurate assessment.
The policy choices that created this situation were made between 1999
and 2023. The bill arrives on Ueda’s
desk. History will record the
caution. It should also record what made
it necessary.
Terence
Nunis | Executive Chairman, Equinox Zenith | Author, The 1% Playbook: The
Billionaire Cheat Code

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