They also had much in common.
Both took office as agents of change after periods of political turmoil. Both entered government with approval ratings that would be enviable in almost any mature democracy. Both benefited from weakened opposition camps and presented themselves as decisive leaders capable of breaking with the drift and disorder associated with their predecessors.
Lee took office on June 4, 2025, after winning a snap election triggered by the removal of former President Yoon Suk Yeol following his short-lived declaration of martial law.
Takaichi became Japan’s first female prime minister on Oct. 21, 2025, giving the governing Liberal Democratic Party a new face after years of scandals, factional conflict and declining public trust.
Their political honeymoons were unusually strong.
Lee's first Gallup Korea approval rating stood at 64 percent in late June 2025 and later peaked at 67 percent in March and April 2026. Takaichi's Cabinet began with similarly robust support. A Kyodo News poll conducted immediately after its formation put approval at 64.4 percent, while Asahi Shimbun and Mainichi Shimbun surveys measured 68 percent and 67 percent, respectively. Some later polls placed her support above 70 percent.
The numbers reflected more than ordinary post-election goodwill.
Lee benefited from a widespread desire to restore institutional stability after the martial law crisis. Even voters wary of his combative political style could view his government as a return to normal democratic administration. His emphasis on economic revival, pragmatic diplomacy and active government reinforced the perception that the presidency was functioning again.
Takaichi combined the symbolism of becoming Japan's first female leader with a direct and energetic communication style. Her promises to raise disposable income, confront inflation and restore confidence resonated particularly strongly with younger voters.
She quickly converted personal popularity into political power. In February, the LDP won 316 seats in the lower house, while the governing bloc, including the Japan Innovation Party, secured 352 of the chamber's 465 seats, exceeding the two-thirds threshold needed to override the upper house on ordinary legislation.
By July, however, the mood surrounding both leaders had changed.
Lee’s Gallup Korea approval rating fell to 52 percent in a July 14-16 survey, down from 67 percent at its spring peak. His disapproval rating rose to 37 percent. Realmeter placed his positive assessment lower, at 48.4 percent, marking a fifth consecutive week in the 40 percent range.
Takaichi's decline was sharper in some polls.
An Asahi survey conducted July 18-19 put Cabinet approval at 53 percent, down 7 percentage points from June and the lowest level since her government was formed. A Mainichi poll over the same weekend recorded approval at just 41 percent, down 10 points in a month, while disapproval rose to 44 percent.
Polls from different countries and organizations are not directly comparable. Survey methods, political cultures and question wording differ. The more meaningful comparison is the direction of travel within each pollster's series.
On that measure, both leaders have moved from unusually favorable conditions into the first genuinely difficult phase of governing.
But the underlying question is the same: Can leaders who rose as symbols of change retain public trust once they become responsible for the failures and contradictions of the systems they control?
Takaichi's imperial gamble
The immediate trigger for Takaichi's latest decline appears to be parliament's July 17 revision of Japan’s Imperial House Law.
The legislation was intended to address the shrinking size of the imperial family and the shortage of potential male heirs. Japan's succession rules permit only men descended through the male line to inherit the Chrysanthemum Throne.
The revised law allows male-line descendants of former imperial branches that lost royal status after World War II to be adopted into the current imperial family. Their future male-line sons could then become eligible for succession.
It also allows female members of the imperial family to retain their status after marrying commoners and continue performing official duties. Their husbands and children, however, would not become members of the imperial family.
What the law does not permit is a female emperor.
Princess Aiko, the only child of Emperor Naruhito and Empress Masako, therefore remains excluded. The succession line continues through the emperor's younger brother, Crown Prince Fumihito; Fumihito's son, Prince Hisahito; and the emperor's elderly uncle, Prince Hitachi.
The reform addresses an administrative problem — how to maintain enough imperial family members to perform public duties — without confronting what many voters regard as the central question: why the emperor's daughter should remain ineligible solely because she is a woman.
Polls have repeatedly shown that roughly 70 percent or more of Japanese voters would accept a female emperor or support Princess Aiko's accession. Instead, the government chose to reach into distant male branches separated from Emperor Naruhito by centuries of genealogy. Some potential candidates share an ancestor with him from roughly 600 years ago.
The solution is vulnerable from both sides.
Traditionalists may object that bringing people raised outside the imperial household into the family weakens the institution's continuity. Reformists argue that preferring a remote male relative over the emperor's daughter exposes the irrationality of preserving an exclusively male line.
The Asahi poll found that 60 percent of respondents believed the revision had not gained sufficient public understanding. Among them, Cabinet approval stood at 42 percent and disapproval at 49 percent, suggesting that the controversy contributed materially to Takaichi’s decline.
The Mainichi poll was more negative. Forty-five percent viewed the revision unfavorably, compared with 19 percent who approved. Sixty-two percent said they could not accept the continued exclusion of women from the throne.
For Takaichi, the issue carries added symbolism.
Her appointment as Japan's first female prime minister was widely seen as a breakthrough in one of the world's most male-dominated political systems. Yet she has long been associated with the conservative wing of the LDP and has resisted changes to traditional family and gender institutions.
She is now defending a system in which she can lead the government but the emperor's daughter cannot inherit the throne.
Takaichi argues that male-line continuity is a defining element of imperial legitimacy, not a broader judgment about women's ability to lead. But the controversy has reinforced concerns about how her government exercises power after its landslide lower house victory.
In the Mainichi poll, 46 percent said the government was not sufficiently careful or respectful in advancing policy, while 38 percent judged its approach favorably. The result echoed opposition accusations that the governing bloc is using its numerical dominance to push through measures without adequately considering public objections.
Many younger voters who initially admired Takaichi's energy and economic message did not necessarily embrace her social conservatism. They were drawn to her promises to increase take-home pay, reduce bureaucratic caution and provide faster economic relief.
A supermajority can pass a law. It cannot manufacture public consent.
Takaichi's government approved a major stimulus program in November 2025, including energy subsidies, tax measures and household assistance. Yet the weak yen, expensive food and energy, social insurance burdens and worries over fiscal sustainability continue to weigh on consumers.
Her early support among younger voters was partly transactional. If living standards do not improve, it can disappear quickly.
The imperial dispute is therefore dangerous because it reinforces a broader narrative: that the government is spending political capital on conservative institutional priorities while households remain preoccupied with the cost of everyday life.
Economic discomfort combined with perceived ideological overreach has weakened governments far more secure than Takaichi's.
Lee's decline has no single equivalent to Japan's Imperial House Law revision.
Instead, a series of controversies has accumulated since early June, raising questions about competence, oversight and fairness.
South Korea's June 3 local elections were marred in some areas by ballot-paper shortages and other administrative failures. The incidents angered voters who were delayed or unable to vote normally and revived broader distrust of the National Election Commission.
Documented administrative failures must be distinguished from allegations of deliberate election fraud.
Ballot shortages demonstrated serious planning and management problems. They did not prove that votes were fabricated or that officials sought to alter the results. But they occurred in a political environment already saturated with suspicion, allowing genuine logistical failures to fuel more sweeping claims.
A Gallup Korea survey conducted June 9-11 found that 67 percent regarded the shortages as poor election management and an infringement of voting rights. Twenty-five percent saw them as evidence of illegal intervention or attempted fraud. On whether entirely new elections should be held, 44 percent agreed and 48 percent disagreed.
Support for a rerun was particularly high among younger voters, reaching 67 percent among those aged 18 to 29 and 62 percent among people in their 30s.
In the same survey, election-management failures, alleged fraud and problems involving the commission were cited by 16 percent of Lee's critics as the main reason for their negative assessment, the largest single category. His approval fell to 57 percent, down 7 points from the previous Gallup survey.
By June 23-25, approval had fallen further to 51 percent. Economic and cost-of-living concerns led negative responses at 15 percent, while election-related issues and housing policy each accounted for 10 percent.
The election commission is an independent constitutional institution, not an agency directly controlled by the presidency. Lee expressed regret and called for accountability, positioning himself alongside voters demanding reform. That may have limited the damage, but it did not resolve the deeper problem of institutional distrust.
A stock-market success turns into a liability
Lee made revival of the domestic stock market a central part of his economic agenda. He promoted corporate governance reform, stronger protection of minority shareholders and measures to reduce the "Korea discount."
As the KOSPI rallied, the market became evidence that optimism and reform were returning.
That narrative was weakened by extreme volatility in leveraged exchange-traded funds tied to individual companies, particularly Samsung Electronics and SK hynix.
Introduced in late May, the products were designed to deliver roughly twice the daily movement of their underlying stocks. Because Samsung Electronics and SK hynix account for an unusually large share of the benchmark index, heavy trading in leveraged products linked to the two companies magnified pressure across the broader market.
Such funds must rebalance as prices move. In volatile markets, that mechanism can force additional buying during rallies and additional selling during declines, amplifying momentum in both directions.
The KOSPI, previously celebrated as one of the world's strongest major markets, began recording violent daily swings. Retail investors who entered at elevated prices faced losses, margin calls and growing concern that a market promoted as a vehicle for national wealth creation had become excessively speculative.
Lee ordered regulators on July 15 to prepare safeguards.
The Financial Services Commission suspended new listings of single-stock leveraged funds, increased the minimum retail deposit from 10 million won to 30 million won, raised minimum trading units and strengthened mandatory investor education.
There is no evidence that Lee personally approved the products, and public criticism has also focused on regulators, the stock exchange and senior economic officials. Major polls have not yet identified leveraged ETFs as an independent driver of his approval decline.
The political risk is nevertheless clear.
The episode strikes at one of Lee's central claims: that his government can make Korean markets both more dynamic and fairer to ordinary investors.
If retail investors conclude that the state encouraged risk during the boom and intervened only after losses emerged, the controversy becomes a story about unequal responsibility. Profits appear private at the top, while small investors bear the cost of belated regulation.
Housing poses a more persistent threat.
Korean presidents repeatedly discover that public judgment of the economy is inseparable from apartment prices. Rising prices reward existing owners but exclude younger and first-time buyers. Falling prices threaten highly leveraged households, construction and consumption.
There is no politically painless equilibrium.
Lee initially appeared to be performing well. In March, 51 percent of Gallup respondents positively assessed the government's housing policy, the highest favorable rating in the pollster's series since 2013. Only 27 percent judged it negatively.
Four months later, the balance had reversed.
A Gallup survey conducted June 30-July 2 found that 46 percent believed the government was handling housing poorly, while 26 percent approved. Fifty-five percent expected home prices to rise over the next year, compared with 14 percent who expected them to fall.
Negative sentiment was strongest among younger adults. More than half of respondents in their 20s and 30s disapproved of the government’s housing policy. Among people in their 30s, 56 percent rated it negatively, the highest share of any age group, while just 15 percent approved.
Critics most frequently cited the failure to restrain prices. Lending restrictions and excessive regulation were also mentioned.
The tension is obvious.
Young Koreans are told that household debt is excessive and tighter lending rules are necessary. But when borrowing limits are tightened without a corresponding fall in prices, people without family wealth are placed at an even greater disadvantage against cash-rich buyers.
Credit controls can therefore deepen perceptions of unfairness if they fail to cool the market.
Older homeowners may regard rising apartment values as economic security. For salaried workers in their 20s and 30s, they can represent the disappearance of any realistic path into the middle class.
Lee knows the political history. The previous progressive administration of Moon Jae-in was badly damaged when Seoul housing prices surged despite repeated regulation. Lee has sought to distinguish himself by combining supply, redevelopment and regional development with financial controls.
But voters judge outcomes faster than housing supply can be delivered.
Gallup's July 14-16 survey showed housing as the second-most cited reason for disapproving of Lee, at 11 percent. Economic conditions, livelihoods and the weak won ranked first at 16 percent.
That combination is politically combustible. Households are not only worried that homes are unaffordable. They also fear that daily costs are rising and their savings are losing purchasing power.
Macroeconomic optimism rarely overcomes that experience.
Lee's unresolved youth problem
Housing is central to Lee’s fourth challenge: weak support among younger voters.
Even when his national approval was near its peak, Lee performed less strongly among people in their 20s than among voters in their 40s and 50s. A Gallup report in April showed his approval among young adults remaining in the 40 percent range while his national rating stood in the mid-60s.
By June 23-25, approval among those aged 18 to 29 had fallen to 36 percent, the lowest of any age group. Approval among people in their 30s stood at 47 percent, also below the national average.
Several forces are at work.
The first is the generational gender divide.
Young women played an important role in Lee's 2025 victory. Exit polling indicated that about 58 percent of women in their 20s and 57 percent of those in their 30s supported him, while many young men backed conservative or third-party candidates.
Lee therefore entered office with a divided youth coalition.
Some young women expected stronger action on workplace discrimination, digital sex crimes and gender-based violence and have become frustrated by what they see as excessive caution.
Young men remain skeptical of the Democratic Party's positions on military service, recruitment, gender policy and fairness. Attempts to avoid alienating either side risk satisfying neither.
Employment is another concern.
Young Koreans face intense competition for stable entry-level jobs at large companies and public institutions, while artificial intelligence and automation create uncertainty over white-collar careers. Semiconductor-led growth and rising asset prices do not necessarily translate into opportunity for graduates and first-time job seekers.
Housing and asset inequality deepen the frustration.
Older generations who bought homes before major price increases accumulated wealth even when wage growth was modest. Younger workers must save from income while the cost of entry moves steadily farther away.
A rising stock market was supposed to offer another path to asset building. The leveraged ETF controversy showed how quickly retail participation could become exposure to amplified losses.
Political representation is another source of alienation. Younger voters often view mainstream parties as organizations dominated by older politicians who invoke youth during elections but exclude younger people from candidate selection and senior decision-making.
This is why Lee's youth problem cannot be repaired with one cash benefit or slogan. It is rooted in a belief that the system distributes opportunity according to accumulated assets, family background, institutional connections and timing rather than effort.
Younger voters are also less attached to traditional parties and more willing to shift rapidly over specific fairness controversies involving elections, recruitment, housing loans and investment losses.
Lee's strength remains concentrated among voters in their 40s and 50s, whose political identities were shaped by earlier democratic struggles and partisan conflicts. Younger voters are less inclined to support him because of the Democratic Party's historical identity or because the opposition remains associated with Yoon.
The memory of martial law still matters, but it cannot indefinitely substitute for answers on housing, jobs and fairness.
The comparison between Lee and Takaichi should not obscure the differences between their political systems.
Lee is a directly elected president serving a single five-year term. His authority does not depend on remaining party leader or repeatedly winning parliamentary confidence.
Takaichi's position depends on control of her party and a parliamentary majority. Even a prime minister with a huge lower house advantage can be removed if internal support collapses.
Their approval ratings also carry different implications.
Lee's 52 percent Gallup rating remains above half, while the Democratic Party led the opposition People Power Party by 40 percent to 26 percent in the July 14-16 survey. His numbers represent a significant retreat, not a collapse.
Takaichi still recorded 53 percent approval in the Asahi poll. But Mainichi's finding of 41 percent approval and 44 percent disapproval suggests her support is more sensitive to pollster, audience and issue framing. The abrupt 10-point fall may also influence expectations inside the LDP.
Their opposition camps differ as well.
Lee faces conservatives who remain divided and burdened by their association with Yoon and martial law. That weakness allows him to absorb lower approval without immediately losing control of the political agenda.
Japan’s parliamentary opposition is also fragmented, but Takaichi's greater danger may come from within the LDP. If lawmakers conclude that her ideological agenda is eroding the electoral advantage created by her personal popularity, internal pressure could grow before the next election.
For both Lee and Takaichi, the easy phase is over.
Their early popularity rested on what they represented: stability after turmoil, change after stagnation and leadership after drift.
Their durability will depend on something harder — whether voters believe the systems they now control are becoming fairer, more competent and more responsive to ordinary life.
Copyright ⓒ Aju Press All rights reserved.