IN THE gay bars and clubs of Shinjuku, a lively part of Japan’s capital, the talk is all about what the neighbouring district of Shibuya is up to. The local mayor, Toshitake Kuwahara, is on the verge of introducing certificates which would recognise same-sex relationships as equivalent to marriages. Lots of couples are preparing to get hitched, say clubbers. Some are moving to Shibuya. Assuming the ordinance is passed, the first certificates could be issued in the summer.

Tokyo’s gay activists hope that this will eventually lead to the full national adoption of gay-marriage laws. Japan is one of only a handful of rich countries not to give legal rights to same-sex partnerships. But Shibuya’s move is already sparking a backlash, says a bar-owner in Shinjuku who goes by the name of Masaya. He says he wishes that Mr Kuwahara had left gays alone to live their lives discreetly.

Japan’s brand of homophobia is understated but powerful. The country’s attitude is akin to the American military’s former rule of “don’t ask, don’t tell”, says Wataru Ishizaka, an assembly member in Nakano ward, who is one of only two openly gay elected politicians in the capital. The prospect of recognising gay partnerships is shocking to conservatives. There have been demonstrations against the idea in the capital, and much ranting online.

In fact, the proposed changes would fall far short of the full recognition of gay marriage. The certificates would apply only in Shibuya. They would not be legally binding, though they would ask (for example) hospitals to grant gay people access to their partners, and give protection for transgender people sometimes turned away from voting booths. Yet the proportion of Japan’s gay people who have come out is small, so the number of people likely to apply for the certificates may not even reach a thousand.

Over time, Shibuya’s move is likely to be copied elsewhere. In Tokyo, Setagaya and Toshima wards are considering similar measures; so is Yokohama, Japan’s second-largest city. Local governments have often shown themselves to be more progressive on social matters than the national legislature, which later follows suit.

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Few Japanese frown on gays on religious or moral grounds. Rather, the objection is that they depart from the norm—which is something that new laws might change. Conservatives also oppose gay marriage out of a general sense of panic over traditional marriage. Japanese couples are getting married either later or not at all, resulting in a low birth rate (since few children are born out of wedlock).

Marriage as an institution in Japan is fragile, says Masakatsu Kondo, the head of a conservative group which opposes Shibuya’s initiative. He says it would be weakened further if same-sex partnerships were to acquire quasi-legal standing. Yet it is hard to believe that a few certificates for gay couples could have a greater deterrent effect than the strictures and costs of traditional marriage—the result of deep-seated factors, ranging from long working hours to old-fashioned sexual stereotyping.

At the moment, politicians of the Liberal Democratic Party are criticising Shibuya’s initiative. Shinzo Abe, the prime minister, has pointed out that Article 24 of Japan’s (American-written) constitution refers to marriage as based on the mutual consent of “both sexes”. But as many people in the bars of Shinjuku wryly note, in other areas of policy, Mr Abe’s dearest wish is to rewrite the bits of the constitution that he finds archaic.