IN THE dark-suited male world of Japanese politics, the front-runner in the race to lead the main opposition party is a breath of fresh air. If the young and charismatic former TV host who goes by the single name of Renho emerges from the election on September 15th as the new chief of the Democratic Party (DP), many members believe it will improve the party’s fortunes. “We need a female leader for a new image,” says Katsuya Okada, the outgoing leader, who supports Renho (pictured).

The party fared badly at elections in July for half of the seats in the upper house. It lost 11, leaving it with just 49 of the 242 seats in the chamber. (It subsequently recruited an independent, raising its tally to 50.) This handed the ruling coalition the two-thirds majority in both houses needed to change Japan’s constitution, a pet project of Shinzo Abe, the prime minister.

Yet a new face will not be enough to revive the DP. For one thing, opposition parties always struggle in Japan. Mr Abe’s Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) has only been out of power for a total of four years since 1955. Many Japanese and much of the civil service (not to mention the party itself) see it as synonymous with the state.

Voters, meanwhile, have yet to forgive the DP for its disastrous stint in government in 2009-12. It raised taxes, feuded with bureaucrats and floundered in the wake of the Fukushima nuclear disaster. “People let the LDP off the hook for their mistakes because they know they are rascals; but they will never forgive the DP for letting them down,” says Koichi Nakano of Sophia University in Tokyo.

Thanks to Mr Okada’s steady hand, the party is in a better state than when it lost power in 2012. It merged with the small Japan Innovation Party in March, and struck a deal with the Japanese Communist Party before the elections in July to refrain from fielding candidates in the same constituencies, to avoid splitting the opposition vote.

Yet the pact is controversial within the DP, which has no clear ideology. Its members range from right-wing nationalists to diehard leftists. As a result, it lacks policy heft. “We have made the mistake of always opposing the government’s policies, but not proposing our own alternatives,” says Akihisa Nagashima, a DP lawmaker. “This leadership election is our chance to debate policies and let people know what we stand for—perhaps our last.”

Mr Abe has tried to co-opt perennial opposition causes, such as lifting the wages of ordinary workers and helping women. Yet he has left ample room for the DP to differentiate itself. Many voters oppose the LDP’s policy of restarting Japan’s nuclear power stations, which were shut down after Fukushima, and Mr Abe’s goal of scrapping the constitution’s restrictions on Japan’s armed forces.

Alas, policy is where Renho, a talented communicator, is weaker than her two competitors for leader. (She is also likely to come under attack from traditionalists for being half-Taiwanese). Seiji Maehara, a former leader, has weightier positions on security and foreign policy, but does not offer the change the DP craves. (“If he wins, I may as well have stayed,” says Mr Okada.) Yuichiro Tamaki has ideas on helping families, but is unknown outside the party.

The absence of a strong opposition is unhealthy for any democracy, but Mr Abe’s growing authority makes it especially worrying. He has largely stamped out LDP factionalism, which used to act as a check on the leader, and made reforms that give the cabinet more control over the bureaucracy. It does not help that the media is prone to self-censorship. Even some in the LDP would welcome more robust competition. “I don’t necessarily want a powerful opposition, but a more credible one would improve debates in parliament and sharpen our policies,” says Kuniko Inoguchi, an LDP member of the upper house.