Why are we misunderstood in emails and LINE? The reason why we can communicate when speaking, but are misunderstood when writing

What time do you think "10 minutes before 8" means?
7:50? Or just a little before 8:10, like 8:08?

Right now, this casual phrase is a hot topic on social media.
When it's just written down, it can be taken either way.
However, Japanese people actually use it differently without even realizing it.

If you emphasize "8 o'clock '10 minutes before'," it's 7:50; if you emphasize "8:10 'before'," it's around 8:08. Intonation, atmosphere, context, and the distance between the people involved.
The Japanese language is supported by "white space" that cannot be fully conveyed through text alone.

That is why I think this:
Japanese is a language where "writing" causes division,
and "speaking" creates unity.

It is ambiguous, yet it gets the point across. We don't say things clearly, yet we understand each other.
This time, I would like to look at the "invisible power of unity" hidden deep within the Japanese language, focusing on the "culture of white space," "kotodama" (the spirit of words), and the "mystery of the act of speaking."

Ambiguity is not immaturity—Japanese as a "culture of white space"

"Ii desu" (That's fine/No thank you)
"Mata kondo" (Another time)
"Yabai" (Awful/Amazing)
"Arigatou" (Thank you)

—These are all words that can be both affirmative and negative.

For example, if you are offered water at a restaurant and reply with "Arigatou gozaimasu," the server might refill your glass, or they might not.

In fact, in Japanese, there are many such "ways of speaking with white space" and "true intentions that lie outside the words themselves." This is completely different from cultures like the English-speaking world that clearly distinguish between Yes and No, and we Japanese use these nuances "unconsciously" and communicate effectively.

Ambiguity does not mean unclear; ambiguity means leaving white space

The "ambiguity" of Japanese is by no means immaturity or avoidance.
Rather, it is a form oftrustthat involves "leaving white space and entrusting it to the other person."

• Not saying things clearly is because you trust the other person.

• Not over-explaining is because you respect the other person's ability to understand.

• Not finishing a sentence is to avoid breaking the atmosphere of the moment.

In other words, I think ambiguity in Japanese can be calledproof of cultural maturity.

The "true intention" lies within the white space

For example, there is a lot of "... (silence)" in Japanese conversation.
But that doesn't mean we've lost our words; it's a sense of "placing" words outside of the words themselves.

The presence, the gaze, and the breathing that drift within the silence.
Reading all of that is the only way a "conversation is established," which is the unique worldview of the Japanese language.

In that way, the blank space becomes the space that holds meaning. Perhaps Japanese is a
language of blank spaces that reaches deep precisely because it is not packed full.

Kotodama is the power that resides not in the 'sound' but in the 'pause'

Many people interpret the word 'kotodama' as 'the mysterious power that resides in words.'
However, I think that this 'power' resides not so much in the spoken words themselves, but rather in the space between words and silence, that is, the 'pause'.

Beyond the resonance, the power that resides in silence

For example, when you say 'thank you' to someone.
If you just make the sound mechanically, it becomes mere information.

But when you convey 'thank you' with a moment of silence, a deep breath, and sincerity, something like 'ki' (energy) beyond the words reaches the other person. I think the path of that 'ki'-like thing is the true nature of kotodama.

A power that creates 'resonance' rather than sound

Kotodama is also a 'vibration transmission device' that cannot be expressed in writing.

• The atmosphere of the place contained in 'ohayo' (good morning)

• The consideration that permeates 'otsukaresama' (thank you for your hard work)

• The respect for life contained in 'itadakimasu' (before a meal)

These function not as a sequence of sounds, but as a resonance that connects the place and the soul.

That is why kotodama is not something that reaches just by making a sound.
Meaning resides in 'how it resonates' and 'how it is received'.

Kotodama also lives in 'not saying'

The 'sadness' and 'affection' spoken in silence.
The 'forgiveness' and 'feelings' contained in swallowing words.
I think all of these are a type of kotodama.

That is why Japanese may be a language that gives its true meaning to 'outside the words' and 'the intonation and emphasis put into words', rather than the meaning the words themselves hold.

'Invisible bonds' connected by vowels—words as prayer

Japanese is a rare 'vowel language' in the world.
All words are created around the five sounds of 'a, i, u, e, o'. Consonants do not lead; vowels are at the core of every word.

This structure supports the spirituality unique to Japanese, which houses energy in the 'resonance' of the sound itself.

The reason for "extending" sounds

For example, in Shinto prayers or Buddhist sutras, extending vowels like "Oooooom" or "Ka-mi-i-i" is not just a formality.

It is a technique to deliver words not as "meaning," but as "vibration".

By extending vowels, overtones are created in the space, becoming a sound that transcends human reason and resonates with the soul and the entire space.

The moment words become a prayer

Overtones are not sounds felt by the brain, but sounds felt by the entire body. And they not only vibrate the "air," but also become a bridge that connects the unconscious minds of people.

• Do not "speak" words, but "make them resonate."

• Do not "convey" meaning, but "pray."

This sensation has continued to dwell in ancient Shinto rituals and ceremonies.

The relationship between Kotodama (spirit of words) and unity

That is precisely why Japanese people read "between the lines."
While sensing the "quality of resonance" and the "depth of silence" contained within, they try to connect through something more than just words.

In other words—
an invisible unity occurs as "sound" connects, "pauses" harmonize, and "ki" (energy) resonates.

This invisible bond cannot be easily imitated from the outside.
Sound, timing, the meaning of silence, the sense of distance from the other person.
Only when all of these overlap does it finally become something that is "conveyed."

That is why this power of unity is also an "unassailable strength" that lies deep within the Japanese people.

Words close when written and open when spoken—toward the future of the Japanese language

Words are overflowing now.
SNS, messaging apps, emails—
We are living surrounded by "written words" more than ever before.

But, on the other hand—
"It feels cold," "It doesn't get through," "I was misunderstood"
We have entered an era where we simultaneously feel that kind of "loneliness of words."

What is lost by writing

The Japanese language is a language that only exerts its true power when it includes sound, pauses, and the atmosphere.

That is precisely why, when it becomes text alone, that "margin" is completely lost.

• There is no tone, no presence, and no sense of timing.

• You cannot accommodate the other person's level of understanding or the relationship.

• As a result, the words alone take on a life of their own.

Because our culture has built communication through the sounds and pauses unique to the Japanese language, when we write, the inflection, emphasis, and pauses of those sounds are left to the reader.
In other words, the act of "writing" is always accompanied by a certain risk of fragmentation.

This is why there are so many misunderstandings in emails and LINE; it is a common type of miscommunication in Japanese where affirmations are taken as negations, and negations as affirmations.

What is opened up by speaking

However, the moment we layer our voices, words begin to take on a different expression.

• The prayer contained in the resonance of a "thank you"

• The kindness embedded in "Are you okay?"

• The forgiveness dwelling in silence, and the feelings reflected in a gaze

Speaking is not merely conveying information.
It is also about "layering soul upon soul."

The future of the Japanese language dwells in "sound"

In the era to come—
even if AI writes text and characters are generated automatically, people speaking with their voices and feeling the pauses between each other will likely never be replaced.

Rather, it is precisely there that the "meaning of being human" emerges.

I would like to keep these words in my heart once more.
And perhaps we are beginning to remember that the act of "exchanging words" is actually a prayer ritual that reconnects an invisible world.

Even the "10 minutes before 8 o'clock" problem, which is fragmented when written and taken in various interpretations, should be naturally understood when spoken, whether it means 7:50 or 8:08, without conscious effort.
The person conveying the message should also unconsciously use "information outside the words," such as inflection and emphasis, to communicate.
And as long as we are Japanese, we should also be equipped with the ability to understand this unconsciously and naturally (which would be a superpower to a foreigner) as a basic specification.

Therein lies a "beauty of language" unique to Japanese that does not exist in other countries.
Conversely, therein also lies the "difficulty" of Japanese, where written words are misunderstood.