Everyday Life Matters More Than Politics

Freelance Writer Takahasi Saeko

Born and raised in Japan, I am now living in Korea with my husband and our two children. My relationship with my Korean husband dates back to 2008. We first met through a Zainichi Korean friend, and after seven years of dating, we got married. Today, I run a small café in Korea while continuing my life as a writer.

In Japan, I worked as both a journalist and a writer, and I still contribute articles to newspapers and magazines. One day, I hope to publish a novel in Korean.

These days, “Korea–Japan couples” seem to be trending on YouTube, and I suppose I am part of that trend as well. Many Koreans say that Korean men and Japanese women make a good match. After living with my Korean husband for over ten years, I can say that beyond cultural differences, empathy, consideration, and love are what truly sustain a stable marriage.

However, separate from my personal life, Korea–Japan relations often swing between warmth and tension. Whenever a Japanese politician makes remarks about historical or territorial issues, the atmosphere in Korea quickly turns cold. Not long ago, when Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi mentioned Dokdo, Korean society reacted strongly. Including my husband, many people around me in Korea took the issue very seriously.

From my perspective as a Japanese person, such remarks are often closely tied to domestic politics in Japan. They are frequently messages aimed at consolidating support ahead of elections, and most Japanese people pay little attention to them. In everyday life, rather than politics, it is the growing popularity of Korean culture—K-pop, dramas, and food—that shapes people’s perceptions of Korea in Japan.

In Korea, however, remarks about Dokdo are not seen as mere political rhetoric but as issues of sovereignty. This difference in perception is not something that can be taken lightly, and it seems important for both Japan and Korea to make efforts to understand each other’s perspectives. It is also crucial to ensure that political conflicts do not dominate individuals’ lives and emotions.

Couples like us, who cross borders to choose each other, live by understanding each other’s cultures. Our daily lives exist separately from political conflicts. Our children learn both languages, and we celebrate each other’s holidays together. Perhaps these small connections are what truly form the foundation of future Korea–Japan relations.

Politics may at times shake relations between nations, but trust between people does not break so easily. What ordinary people hope for is not grand diplomatic achievements between Japan and Korea. Rather, it is an atmosphere where people accept and respect one another as they are—where daily exchanges and mutual understanding build a stable life, without being swayed by every political statement.

In an era where living across borders is no longer something unusual, I hope that Korea–Japan relations will move toward peace, cooperation, and coexistence rather than confrontation. And at the center of it all are ordinary people, quietly living their everyday lives.