It’s Chuseok, a holiday when all extended family members gather around a table and reflect on the past year. Much has happened in that time—from weddings to health issues within the household—and all of these topics are open for discussion.  One of the most prominent, and often dreaded, topics of conversation is the workplace. For many young Koreans today, job hunting remains a sensitive and stressful subject. A survey by Joongang Ilbo found that 70% of workers in Korea feel burned out, and 50% regularly think about changing jobs. Yet, work is more than just small talk—there are certain expectations around how one should speak about it, even when the feelings are negative. At the same time, jobs are becoming increasingly difficult to secure: South Korea’s youth unemployment rate reached a record high of 7. 5% in March 2025 and is predicted to rise further.  This recent surge in unemployment hasn’t been easy for young Koreans, and there seems to be a collective sense of resignation around it. A study by Chosun News reported that the number of unemployed youth not actively seeking jobs rose to 4. 2 million in 2025, an increase of 15,000 from the previous year. This statistic seems to indicate a paradigm shift: young people are beginning to treat their jobs as less central to their lives. They appear less inclined to invest extra time and effort into building their long-term careers. Why try? After all, the new trend is “quiet quitting. ”So What Exactly is Quiet Quitting? Quiet quitting is also known as wolgeup rupang, or salary lupin, although the latter has more of a negative connotation. Coined in the early 2020s, it refers to an employee who is perceived as a freeloader on the job. The term combines “salary (wolgeup)” with “Lupin,” a thief in a French mystery novel, thus referring to these people as thieves who “steal” their salary without proportionate effort. Instead of quitting their jobs altogether, workers seemingly quit the idea of “going above and beyond”; they seek no particular satisfaction or passion in their work, but instead see it as a mandatory breadwinning task. Many assume the term is most relevant to MZs (Millennials and Generation Z grouped into a singular youth demographic) because of the group’s reputation of having a “progressive mindset. ” Stereotypically, MZs tend to strive for equal treatment regardless of age, refuse to actively curry the favor of elders, and disregard traditional social hierarchies. For instance, a popular phenomenon circulating MZ spaces is kaltoegeun, which is when one leaves the office as soon as working hours end, countering the long-standing expectation that office workers must do overtime. Why Are MZs Stepping Back?Quiet quitting, however, is more than just an MZ mindset— it’s the result of deeply rooted pressures and societal issues reflected in the Korean workplace.  Quiet quitting as a phenomenon begins to make more sense when placed within the context of Korea’s work culture: workers have historically struggled with worabel, or work-life balance. According to the OECD, more than 20% of the working population in Korea works more than 50 hours a week, leaving little time for leisure. This stems from yageun culture, with many hoesiks: a stressful, unpaid time of hierarchical obedience, forced drinking, and mass pressure. Refusing these workplace dinners, or even refusing an offered drink, would leave a bad impression on superiors and affect one’s career.  All this has contributed heavily to the low levels of job and overall life satisfaction among young Koreans. A recent survey from the 2024 Korea Wellness Report by KB Financial Group found that young adults in their 20s and 30s suffer from the highest rates of stress—70% in both age groups—while 60% of Koreans report experiencing mental health challenges. This surge in stress may help explain why many young workers are stepping back from fully participating in the workplace, choosing instead to protect their mental wellbeing. Meanwhile, switching jobs often only leads to similar pressures: there is no “better place” to go.  But pressure isn’t just internal. Work has lost its sense of value in the face of mounting economic strain. Labor’s terms of trade have fallen by 15. 5% in recent years, resulting in wage stagnation, particularly for lower-tier positions. Meanwhile, the cost of living continues to rise. As a result, many Korean youth no longer feel motivated to climb the career ladder, seeing no satisfactory reward at the top. How is Society Viewing These MZs? Despite these struggles, society isn’t as understanding. Quiet quitting is one of the many reasons why MZs have become associated with disobedience or “wokeness” in Korean society. For many, MZ is not just a descriptive term denoting the age of individuals—it carries a set of prejudices about the younger generation. MZs are often judged as being selfish and lazy, having little respect for tradition and prioritizing themselves over the common good.  In the eyes of older employees, MZs are a reminder that young people don’t work hard because they “have it easier. ” However, this view overlooks a deeper truth: the youth are pushing back against the injustices and hierarchical violence that older generations were forced to endure. In doing so, “the MZ mindset” helps to create an environment that benefits everyone, including the older generations.  MZs often view older generations just as negatively. Korean youth have already coined the term kkondae (a Korean variant of the term “boomer”) to refer to condescending older people who are stuck in their ways. Another similar phrase is latte is a horse, a mocking nonsensical translation of the common phrase “back in my day. ” Young people judge older generations for refusing social change under the idea that what worked best for them should work best for everyone. Thus, quiet quitting has widened the existing ideological gap between younger and older employees. Workplace tensions have worsened, and companies are increasingly facing a disconnect between two generations that refuse to see eye-to-eye. This divide has begun to affect organizational productivity, and perhaps more broadly, cooperation across society as a whole.  Is This a Problem That is Exclusive to Korea? While Korea’s strain of Confucian influence is a major root cause for the increasing prevalence of quiet quitting, similar patterns can be observed in other countries across Asia—particularly in China, Japan, and Malaysia—where rigid social hierarchies persist.  In China, young people have coined the term tangping, which translates to “lying flat. ” Much like in Korea, China faces a rapidly shrinking workforce, leading to expectations of longer hours and heavier workloads. The youth who choose to tangping, however, refuse to overwork themselves for the sake of their employers and choose instead to lie flat, remaining content with more modest achievements.  Youth fatigue in the workplace isn’t a phenomenon confined to just Asia either. A comparable trend in the U. S. is known as the “Great Resignation,” referring to a significant wave of voluntary resignations beginning in 2021. Sparked by the COVID-19 pandemic, many young workers began re-evaluating their working conditions, leading those dissatisfied with pay, benefits, or career prospects to leave their jobs. Unlike Korea’s wolgeup rupang or China’s tangping—both milder forms of protest—some workers in the U. S. chose to quit entirely, with a record-high resignation rate of 3% (4. 5 million workers) in 2021 to 2022 alone. Is Quiet Quitting the Long-term Solution? What Does This Mean for the Future of South Korea’s Workplaces? Quiet quitting isn’t ineffective in battling deep-rooted workplace issues, but it comes with a catch: it’s not a final solution, only a temporary mechanism. Now that we’ve understood why the phenomenon has manifested, we need to know how we can solve these issues and bring vitality back to the workplace.  The solutions to these underlying problems are not easy to implement. Some include promoting work-life balance through flexible work hours and encouraging the use of vacation days without guilt or pressure from superiors; reducing rigid hierarchies by fostering horizontal communication and making hoesiks optional without social repercussions; ensuring transparency in promotions through clear criteria and regular performance reviews; and creating purpose-driven workplaces by involving employees in meaningful decision-making. While specific solutions may vary by company, the fundamental principle is consistent: reduce stress, support work-life balance, and cultivate a workplace culture built on genuine respect for all workers. Perhaps then, as working conditions become more satisfactory for the MZ generation, quiet quitting will no longer feel necessary, and younger employees will naturally engage fully with their work. After all, today’s youth are a valuable demographic to companies. By acknowledging and adapting to shifting values and changing circumstances, employees can attract those who seek not just a paycheck, but true fulfillment in their work.  

At Seoul’s centuries-old Changgyeonggung Palace, it’s not just history being protected, but also privacy. In early 2025, the palace’s restrooms made headlines after being equipped with ceiling-mounted thermal sensors that detect hidden cameras in real time, along with monitors that watch for secret filming over partition walls. This initiative is one of South Korea’s latest moves against molka (몰카), the pervasive hidden-camera crime that refuses to fade away. What started as playful ’90s slang for prank videos has twisted into something far darker: tiny cameras disguised as screws or smoke detectors that secretly record people in their most private moments. The footage isn’t just leaked; it’s uploaded, shared, and sold on platforms like X, Tumblr, and underground forums.  South Korea’s National Police Agency reported 5,490 such cases in 2023 alone. As per a report by DataReportal, 95% of the Korean population is active on social media, with nearly 70 million mobile connections. This widespread connectivity allows illicit footage to spread with alarming ease, raising concerns that the numbers will only continue to rise. But molka is more than a breach of privacy; it’s a form of power play rooted in gender. According to Human Rights Watch, over 80% of victims are women, revealing a harsh reality where women are deliberately surveilled and recorded in vulnerable spaces like restrooms and changing rooms. The online circulation of these images weaponizes their bodies to control, shame, and humiliate, making molka a tool of social dominance. In this context, philosopher Michel Foucault’s idea of panopticism—where the fear of being watched governs behavior—feels painfully relevant, as countless women alter how they dress, move, or simply exist, all under an invisible, relentless gaze. Molka is part of a broader global pattern known as Technology-Facilitated Sexual Violence (TFSV), a term coined by researchers Anastasia Powell and Nicola Henry. TFSV encompasses a spectrum of gendered harms enabled or amplified by digital technologies. This includes online sexual harassment (such as explicit messages or unwanted advances), gender- and sexuality-based harassment (like hate speech, rape threats, or impersonation), cyberstalking, digital sexual coercion (like sextortion), and Image-Based Sexual Abuse (IBSA), the non-consensual creation or distribution of intimate content. Molka fits squarely within Image-Based Sexual Abuse (IBSA), where consent is violated digitally and harm persists long after the act. These crimes don’t just invade a moment; they leave a mark on victims’ psyches and social lives both online and offline. The damage is quiet but enduring. The Biopsychosocial FalloutGeorge Engel’s biopsychosocial model helps us see the reverberating effects of molka clearly: trauma impacts biological systems, psychological wellbeing, and social interactions.  Biologically, trauma triggers stress responses like elevated cortisol, an overactive amygdala, and a nervous system stuck on high alert, leading to symptoms similar to those seen in physical assault survivors. This leads to panic attacks, insomnia, nausea, and chronic fatigue.  The psychological impact is profound. Survivors live with constant fear of judgment, retaliation, or disbelief. This fear often leads to withdrawal, anxiety, depression, and a shattered sense of self-esteem. Moreover, when the abuse targets a person’s body or image, the damage deepens.  The cognitive model of body image disturbance explains how survivors with negative self-beliefs internalize the abuse as confirmation of their perceived flaws. Meanwhile, objectification theory illustrates how repeated sexualization drives chronic self-monitoring and self-judgment, sometimes escalating into self-objectification. Oliver et al. (2023) further connects this process to disordered eating, viewed as an attempt to control the only thing victims feel they can—their appearance. On the social front, the fear of being targeted creates a pervasive sense of vulnerability. According to Citron and Frank (2014), victims of technology-facilitated sexual violence (TFSV) often face withdrawal from work or school and struggle with a loss of privacy in their communities.  Valentine Gill’s geography of fear theory further explains how gendered blame forces women to create a mental map of fear, strategically avoiding spaces perceived as dangerous. In molka cases, this fear shifts from physical assault to hidden surveillance, turning public places into “watched spaces. ” This dynamic restricts women’s access to public life and reinforces a social order that limits their freedom. This body of evidence shows that the harm runs through the body, mind, and social world: tackling molka needs more than punitive measures. Reform today must be holistic, centered on care, community, and confronting the power structures that allow it. Healing survivors means reshaping the systems around them too. The Rising ResponseChange began in 2011, and in 2025, South Korea stands at a pivotal point in addressing molka. For years, vague privacy laws offered little deterrence. That began to shift with the enactment of the Special Act on Sexual Crimes in 2011, which criminalized illegal filming and distribution,introducing penalties of up to seven years in prison and fines of 50 million won. Support services like the Digital Sexual Crime Victim Support Center emerged to provide legal aid, trauma counseling, and image deletion. Alongside legal reforms, specialized detection squads have been deployed to actively search for hidden cameras in public spaces. Yet survivors still face steep barriers: the burden of proof, fragmented procedures, and slow responses. Another issue revolves around institutional empathy. As of 2022, only 33% of prosecutors and judges were women, with even fewer in police forces. Representative bureaucracy theory suggests that public officials who share demographic traits with those they serve are more likely to understand and advocate for their needs. Research by Meier and Nicholson-Crotty indicates that even without shared experiences, this demographic alignment can enhance trust and understanding.  Public outrage peaked during the 2018 Hyehwa Station protests. The trigger was a case of stark contrast in enforcement: a woman was swiftly arrested for filming a nude male model, while male molka offenders often walk free. Tens of thousands of women took to the streets, chanting “my life is not your porn,” demanding justice and an end to hidden camera crimes. The protests framed molka as a violation of dignity and human rights rooted in deep, systemic gender inequality. In response, legal reforms continued. In April 2025, an amendment to the Sexual Violence Prevention and Victims Protection Act established the Advocacy Centers for Online Sexual Abuse Victims, a national network offering 24/7 survivor-centered care, from emergency counseling to digital evidence support. A centralized hotline (1366) now connects survivors to help from anywhere in the country.  What makes this reform transformative is its decentralization. For the first time, this includes granting legal authority to local governments, alongside national bodies, to remove explicit content and personal identifiers before further harm spreads. This enables quicker, locally-informed responses that avoid delays caused by central bureaucracy.  However, gaps remain. Not all local agencies are fully equipped to act. Survivors from marginalized groups face added barriers. Tech platforms still lack timely, transparent takedown processes. Activists stress that legal reform is not enough. They demand stronger enforcement, better representation in law enforcement, mandatory gender-sensitivity training, and platform accountability. South Korea has made visible strides. But even this progress comes with a reminder: law alone cannot heal. It’s about decentralizing power not just in law, but in culture. The call is clear from all ends: survivors must not carry the burden of justice alone. Towards Prevention, Protection, and EducationSouth Korea’s approach to digital sexual crimes has been mostly reactive, with no stringent laws yet regulating covert surveillance devices. It’s time to flip the script with stronger preventive regulations. Covert surveillance devices should be treated like controlled substances: sold only to licensed professionals such as journalists or filmmakers, and registered in a national database. All tiny or disguised cameras must have visible indicator lights and be traceable. Online platforms and physical stores should be held accountable for selling illegal devices, backed by AI monitoring, customs checks, and enforcement.  The urgency is clear. At Seoul’s Sewoon Shopping Center, a Maeil Economic Daily reporting team found hidden cameras openly sold alongside detection tools, demonstrating how normalized and accessible this technology has become. Thus, source-level regulation isessential.  Routine anti-spycam sweeps in public spaces should be common. Telangana, India, offers a promising example: a biannual certification requires places to inspect for hidden cameras and submit safety reports to police, with penalties for non-compliance. South Korea could adapt this model in high-risk zones like restrooms or guest rooms, offering government-funded detection kits and staff training. But fighting surveillance with surveillance risks overreach and unintended consequences. The ethical challenge lies in strengthening public safety without compromising individual privacy, civil liberties, or opening the door to misuse and abuse of power. To prevent such outcomes, clear usage policies, independent oversight, and robust privacy safeguards must be firmly in place.  Importantly, trauma-informed support systems must evolve alongside law. Police, counselors, and frontline personnel need psychological training to respond empathetically, improving trust and survivor outcomes. Education is the most powerful long-term tool to combat TSFV. Digital consent and awareness should be taught in schools, workplaces, and police academies to build a culture of respect and accountability.  For instance, the Philippine National Police Anti-Cybercrime Group saw voyeurism cases drop from 141 in early 2024 to 86 in 2025, thanks to public dialogues, educational seminars, and targeted social media campaigns raising awareness about the dangers and legal consequences of sharing explicit content. They also set up cyber patrolling and digital literacy programs, especially for youth, who are the most vulnerable. These combined efforts helped create a safer, better-informed online environment, directly contributing to the decline in cases. Hope Beyond the LensFor years, molka thrived in silence, hidden not just behind the lens of technology, but within the blind spots of legal systems and social awareness. By 2025, that silence is beginning to break. Legal reforms, evolving policies, and growing public consciousness are shifting how digital sex crimes are acknowledged and addressed. It’s a turning point for a culture that has long denied or dismissed digital sexual violence.  However, statistics alone can’t capture the full weight of these violations. Data might reveal patterns, but it cannot convey what it means to live through them. Survivors’ stories hold a different kind of resonance, one grounded in everyday realities. They reveal how fear becomes habitual, how trust dissolves, how dignity is quietly taken. If policies aren’t shaped by these lived experiences, they risk missing the mark.  True progress means more than catching perpetrators; it demands systems that center survivors’ needs, restore their autonomy, and build a culture where privacy is protected and consent is understood.  Survivors deserve more than justice; they have the right to be heard, to be restored, to be recognized, and to live without fear of being watched. If we keep listening, keep pushing, and keep choosing empathy over apathy, then perhaps molka can finally be relegated to the past.

On a weekday morning in Yeouido, Seoul’s financial district, a small, boxy shuttle glides quietly through the streets. There’s no driver behind the wheel; only a screen, a cluster of sensors, and a safety operator sitting silently in the cabin. Booking a ride on Seoul’s driverless Yeouido shuttle is easy and free—available on weekdays between 10 a. m. and 4 p. m. Driverless shuttles like these are becoming increasingly common in urban test zones in Korea. In June 2024, Korean startup RideFlux became the first company in the nation to deploy a fully autonomous vehicle—no driver, no backup—on a designated 3. 2-kilometer route in Seoul. The vehicle operates under what’s known as Level 4 autonomy, meaning it can drive itself without human intervention, but only within specific, controlled conditions. For many citizens, witnessing a car navigate city traffic on its own signaled a striking shift in what technology could achieve—and how it might soon transform daily life. A Deliberate Drive: Korea’s Alternative AV StrategySouth Korea has spent years preparing for the autonomous driving era, but with a distinctly measured pace. Since 2016, autonomous vehicles have undergone testing in designated zones such as Sangam and Jeju Island. Major companies like Hyundai Motor Group have launched experimental services, including RoboRide, an autonomous taxi operating with safety drivers, and RoboShuttle, a self-driving bus on a fixed route in Sejong. In 2024, Seoul expanded trials with late-night autonomous taxis in Gangnam. To foster these developments, the Korean government committed 1. 1 trillion won (approximately 800 million USD) in 2021 to promote Level 4 autonomous vehicle development and nationwide smart infrastructure by 2027. Despite these efforts, Korea lags behind the U. S. and China in real-world implementation. To understand Korea’s positioning, we must look at rollout speed, miles driven, regulatory frameworks, and public trust across the autonomous vehicle markets of Korea, the U. S. , and China. American companies like Waymo and Cruise have already logged millions of fully driverless miles and now offer commercial services in cities like Phoenix and San Francisco. China has taken an even more aggressive approach, designating over 20 cities for Level 4 trials and commercially deploying robo-taxis from companies such as Baidu, which now actively transport paying customers in urban centers like Beijing and Wuhan. The three countries differ not only in deployment scale but in the regulatory logic driving their approach. The U. S. relies heavily on private-sector initiative and minimal federal regulation, enabling rapid experimentation—but sometimes at the cost of public backlash and uneven oversight. China, in contrast, uses top-down state planning to push autonomous vehicle adoption as a strategic industry, integrating autonomous vehicles into broader urban development goals and often building infrastructure from scratch. Korea’s model lies between these two extremes. Its rollout is slower and more cautious, shaped by a strong emphasis on public safety, labor protection, and technical precision. The RideFlux service in Seoul, for example, operates only in geo-fenced zones at speeds below 50 km/h, collecting reliable data under real-world, yet controlled, conditions. Korean engineers are refining software to handle the country’s dense urban layouts and unpredictable traffic patterns. This level of caution, however, comes with trade-offs. Slower deployment limits Korea’s ability to gather large-scale operational data and delays its entry into global AV markets already moving at full speed. Yet this strategy is not mere hesitancy; it reflects Korea’s intent to align technology with local conditions and public expectations before scaling up. By prioritizing trust, safety, and readiness over speed, Korea is betting that a deliberate rollout will build the public confidence and system stability essential for meaningful adoption—a model that may prove as valuable as swift expansion. Trust and Safety: Navigating Public PerceptionEven in a country known for rapid tech adoption, autonomous vehicles still make many Koreans uneasy. According to a 2024 Ipsos survey, only 52% of South Korean respondents reported feeling comfortable with self-driving cars—far below China’s 94%. That gap isn’t just about the technology itself; it reflects deeper societal dynamics. In Korea, past public transport accidents and concerns over accountability in tech deployments have left lingering mistrust toward automated systems. A strong professional driving culture and anxiety over job displacement further contribute to the hesitation. In contrast, China’s higher acceptance may stem from greater public confidence in state-led tech initiatives and a cultural emphasis on rapid modernization. Regulators haven’t ignored this skepticism. Before companies like RideFlux can put a car on the road, they must first prove it can handle simulated chaos at facilities like K-City in Hwaseong, navigating without any human help. And even then, it’s not a free pass. Korea’s updated Road Traffic Act (2024) permits Level 3 autonomy only on highways. Human drivers must be prepared to assume control immediately when prompted. The law is designed to ensure that even as AI takes the wheel, someone ultimately remains responsible.  Korea is also faced with ethical dilemmas posed by AVs, such as the trolley problem, where machines must decide between protecting passengers or pedestrians in unavoidable accidents. What should the vehicle do? Responding to such concerns, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, and Transport has introduced preliminary ethical guidelines for decision-making in these scenarios. The guidelines emphasize prioritizing human life over property, minimizing harm even when legal responsibility is unclear, and promoting algorithmic transparency. Though still under development, these frameworks aim to give the public greater confidence that autonomous vehicles will behave consistently and fairly under high-stakes conditions. Small-scale pilot programs are also helping bridge the trust gap. In places like Yeouido and Pangyo, residents can board autonomous shuttle buses, often accompanied by an onboard safety operator. Although human operators acting as “fail-safes” doesn’t necessarily mean all accidents can be prevented, their presence has helped mitigate public anxiety.  Korea’s challenge is not merely to engineer safe autonomous vehicles, but to cultivate an environment where people believe in them. Trust, once lost, is hard to regain—so the government’s methodical approach, emphasizing visible safeguards and ethical foresight, is essential. Cultural Clashes Down the RoadIntegrating autonomous vehicles into Korean streets involves more than just technological upgrades—it requires adapting to deeply human challenges. Drivers often rely on subtle social norms—eye contact, hand gestures, or honking—to navigate right-of-way. Pedestrians regularly jaywalk despite traffic laws. These unpredictable elements make driving a tacit social negotiation, something that cannot be easily translated into code. The aforementioned jaywalker is a particularly revealing example. A pedestrian who steps illegally into the street may stop, hesitate, or dart forward—behaviors that defy clear, predictable patterns. For autonomous vehicles, these individuals are visible but difficult to process. To address this, researchers have been developing perception algorithms trained on locally collected traffic data, including jaywalking patterns and scooter behaviors unique to Korean cities. Not only that, but autonomous vehicle systems must also be designed to account for the expectations and behaviors of human drivers. If a driverless car always yields or drives conservatively, human drivers may exploit this predictability—cutting in or ignoring it. Korean engineers is not to override culture, but to design with its facets in mind.  Broader social attitudes also shape autonomous vehicle adoption in Korea, where enthusiasm for new technology coexists with sharp resistance when innovations threaten safety or jobs. This was evident in the backlash to ride-sharing apps like Kakao Carpool, which triggered mass protests by taxi unions and led regulators to delay or limit such services. This opposition did not merely stall these platforms; it signaled public resistance. Due to this history, autonomous vehicle policy in Korea has evolved with heightened caution, with authorities emphasizing phased rollouts and stakeholder consultation to avoid repeating conflicts that could undermine public trust in emerging mobility technologies. To mitigate this, policymakers have begun discussing transition plans for affected workers. One emerging model is the remote vehicle operator: a human who monitors and occasionally intervenes in the operation of multiple autonomous vehicles from a central control center. These roles preserve human oversight while reducing the need for physical drivers.  Ultimately, the integration of autonomous vehicles into Korean society is as much a cultural negotiation as a technological one. Autonomous vehicle systems must be programmed to operate in accordance with human behavior, and humans must learn to trust machines. Success depends not only on precision engineering but on social alignment—and on treating urban streets not just as technical terrain, but as shared spaces of meaning. Remaking Urban Space for Autonomous VehiclesOne of Korea’s greatest advantages in the transition to autonomous mobility is its ability to coordinate urban infrastructure with technological innovation. Rather than introducing autonomous vehicles into existing road systems and hoping for the best, Korea is actively reshaping its cities to accommodate and optimize these vehicles. Seoul, for instance, has announced plans to outfit all roads with two or more lanes with autonomous vehicle-compatible infrastructure by 2026. This includes high-definition maps, real-time traffic data feeds, intersection sensors, and expansive 5G vehicle-to-everything (V2X) communication networks.  These infrastructure adaptations and coordinated trials are already visible in pilot districts like Sangam and Gangnam. In Sangam, autonomous cars roam under close supervision within a testbed that simulates real traffic conditions. In Gangnam, late-night autonomous taxi trials began in 2023 to assess how driverless vehicles perform during off-peak hours, when human traffic is sparse but often unpredictable.  This transformation reshapes how cities function. As autonomous vehicles become more common, curb space may be reallocated for pickup zones rather than parking, crosswalks may be repositioned to suit machine vision systems, and intersections may favor smoother autonomous vehicle flow over traditional traffic patterns.  Toward a New Urban ResonanceAutonomous vehicles are often treated as a symbol of lies in how they’re integrated gradually and thoughtfully into daily urban life. The government aims to align technology with how cities function and how people live. The goal isn’t just to deploy AVs, but to do it in a way that feels coherent—technologically, socially, and politically.  While slower, this approach offers stability and public trust. It is true that Korea lags behind the U. S. and China in road-testing miles and commercial scale. But in exchange, it faces fewer protests, builds more trust, and ends up with systems better tuned to local realities. Ultimately, Korea’s autonomous vehicle journey reveals that technological progress alone is not enough; it must resonate with the society it seeks to transform. By prioritizing integration over disruption, Korea offers a different model for autonomy—one that asks not just how quickly we can deploy self-driving cars, but how well we can align them with people’s lives, urban rhythms, and public values. As cities worldwide grapple with the promise and pitfalls of autonomous mobility, Korea’s cautious measured path poses a timely question: will getting it right matter more than getting there first? 

On August 5, 2024, the U. S. District Court for the District of Columbia issued a ruling against Google. This occurred amid an ongoing antitrust lawsuit in which the United States Department of Justice (DoJ) alleged Google’s monopolistic control over the online search market. As the case unfolds, DoJ prosecutors have hinted at requesting a divestment order, forcing Google to break up parts of its business. This trial has captured global attention, speaking to a growing trend: governments worldwide are reassessing the unchecked growth of platform tech giants like Google, Meta, and Amazon and exploring strategies to counter their dominance.  In Korea, this global trend has sparked discussions about regulating domestic tech giants.   Naver, Kakao, and Coupang are some of the first companies that come to mind, each a giant in the industry of search engines, social services, and e-commerce. They correspond to Google, Meta, and Amazon, respectively. Both countries face similar challenges in regulating big tech companies, but the playgrounds in which these companies thrive are quite different. Why exactly are they different?      For starters, both countries have had decades of their own unique history of platform economy. It stands to reason if the situations are so distinct, the regulations imposed should be different as well. But when it comes to regulations, the U. S. acts as a global standard that other countries tend to follow. As we will see later on in the article, the Korean platform economy is still in an early stage of development, and the government faces a decision. Should it pursue strict regulations or adopt a more lenient approach? The U. S. government has been taking aggressive antitrust actions—should Korea follow suit?Before moving forward, what exactly is a platform economy? According to Wikipedia, a “platform economy encompasses economic and social activities facilitated by digital platforms. ” In other words, it is the aggregate of platform businesses—not just the entities themselves, but also all the interactions and the results that are incurred by them.  Hence, one important feature of the platform economy is the network effect. As more users join a social network, more people outside the network will want to join. As more search queries pile up, search engines can output more accurate responses. This virtuous cycle has enabled businesses like Google and Meta to become the giants they are today.  Brief Historical Overview of the Two Platform EconomiesU. S. The digital platform economy in the U. S. dates back more than 50 years, with technological advances like the microprocessor in the 1970s and the Internet in the 1990s. Major tech companies emerged in the era of the Internet, including Google(founded in 1998, 90. 01% global search engines), Amazon(founded in 1994, U. S. 37. 6%, 310 million international), and Facebook (founded in 2004, currently Meta Platforms). Google revolutionized search and branched out into advertising, cloud services, and even mobile technologies with Android; Amazon started as an online bookstore but quickly grew into a global e-commerce platform and cloud computing giant; and Facebook began as a social media platform but now explores virtual reality, digital marketplaces, and beyond. Although these companies started in different industrial sectors with their own unique goals, they have some things in common. Not only have they built monopolistic positions in their respective industries, but they’ve also branched out from their original endeavors into multiple sectors. The U. S. platform economy has become both an engine of innovation and a playground of concentrated market power. KoreaKorea’s digital platform economy developed after the 1997 Asian financial crisis, much later than its American counterpart. Naver, founded in the early 2000s, became Korea’s leading search engine and diversified with blogs, portals, and a strong e-commerce presence. Kakao released its messaging platform Kakaotalk in 2010 and KakaoStory in 2012. After its merger with Daum, it quickly expanded its business model to encompass areas like payments (KakaoPay), transportation (KakaoTaxi), and banking (KakaoBank). Coupang, founded in 2010, is now Korea’s largest e-commerce platform. It is known for its fast delivery service, Rocket Delivery, and OTT service Coupang Play. Each of these companies leads its sector. According to InternetTrend, Naver has a share of 54. 26% in the Korean web search market. KakaoTalk has monthly active users(MAU) of approximately 45 million, with a market share of 93. 4% as of June, according to Mobile Index. The Korea Fair Trade Commission evaluated Coupang’s market share as 24. 5%, with Naver closely following with 23. 3% as of 2022. In fact, Coupang holds more than 14 million premium members. How Do the U. S. and Korean Platform Economies Compare? The U. S. and Korean digital platform economies both place a heavy focus on technology-driven business models. Both economies have also fostered platform giants which started from niche markets and now dominate their respective industries. However, there are differences in terms of market characteristics, language barriers, and regulations. The most apparent difference between the two platform economies lies in market size. As mentioned above, a platform economy relies heavily on the network effect. Market size is a direct determinant of the strength of that effect. The U. S. population reaches nearly 350 million, accounting for a huge consumer base. Also, the U. S. platform economy operates in English, which allows them to easily expand across borders. The potential reach of these companies spans beyond the Anglosphere and into the rest of the world, as English is a global lingua franca.  On the contrary, the Korean population is approximately 50 million people, constituting a relatively smaller domestic market. While Korean is spoken by a significant global diaspora and is gaining prominence due to the popularity of K-pop and K-culture, it remains primarily spoken within South Korea. The language doesn’t have the same global reach as English or Spanish. That is why most Korean platform companies have focused on consolidating their position within the domestic market. Some platforms like Naver have indeed made efforts to expand their business to neighboring countries like Japan (such as through Line), but this remains an outlier in the broader trend. Finally, differences in market maturity between the two digital platform economies can be observed. The U. S. digital platform economy is mature and has had decades to evolve. The Korean digital platform economy is only now emerging and still has potential for growth and innovation.  The Differences in Regulations Regulations are fundamentally different from factors like market characteristics and language barriers. While there is not much we can do about the latter, regulations are structured proactively by the government. Or to put it another way: we can affect the platform economy by taking different approaches to regulations. This is why deciding the path for regulations is so important!The U. S. has historically leaned towards aggressive antitrust actions against large tech companies. The most famous case in modern times is United States v. Microsoft Corp in 2001, where Microsoft was forced to carry out several measures including disclosure of Application Programming Interfaces(APIs) in its operating system and the creation of an independent compliance committee. The disclosure of APIs forced Microsoft to share technical information it had kept proprietary with third-party developers, while the committee had access to internal Microsoft documents and oversight authority. The ongoing United States v. Google case clearly shows us that the U. S. is still pursuing such measures. What about Korea? Although the Korean Fair Trade Commission (KFTC) did address the dominance of conglomerates during the 2000s by introducing regulations limiting cross-shareholding, the Korean platform economy didn’t receive much attention until 2020. One important milestone was the passage of the “Anti-Google Act” in 2021, which prohibited app store operators like Google and Apple from forcing developers to use proprietary payment systems. However, concerns have arisen that such may have unintended consequences like higher transaction costs for developers and disruption in the app store ecosystem, potentially leaving small developers worse off than before. The Way Forward: Do We Need Strict Regulations in Korea?For approximately a year now, the Korean Fair Trade Commission has been pushing for an amendment to the Fair Trade Act to target “near-monopoly platforms that have the power to affect the entire platform economy”. Regardless of the reaction to the approach, the government is willing to pursue harsh regulations against digital platforms with power. While the intention behind such regulations is to prevent monopolistic practices, there are concerns. Let’s take a look.  1. Hindering innovationThe foundation of Naver and Kakao’s rapid success was innovation. Restrictive policies imposed may stifle and discourage companies from exploring new technologies, services, or business models.   Google and Facebook had the opportunity to scale freely in their early ages, primarily due to the lack of early regulation on the internet and a business-friendly environment that prioritized fostering innovation. It is true that the playground has drastically changed and that we cannot give Korean tech companies a regulation-free environment. This is where the bottom-up approach, which will be discussed shortly, becomes crucial. It will play a key part in setting up an environment that facilitates innovation. 2. Reverse discriminationAnother concern is the possibility of reverse discrimination against domestic tech companies. Unlike the global tech giants, which operate in multiple markets across the world, Korean platform companies primarily operate within the domestic market. U. S. tech giants can better absorb the impact of regulations in Korea while continuing to thrive elsewhere. For example, U. S. tech giants have frequently combated regulations in the European Union by reducing or even threatening to pull their business altogether.  U. S. tech giants can even wait it out until the regulations become more lenient, or change their business structure to avoid being designated as a monopolist. Korean tech giants do not have the financial flexibility to hold out or an alternative consumer base to turn to in such situations.  The Alternative: Bottom-Up ApproachIf strict regulations are problematic, what can the Korean government do? Surely the solution isn’t turning a blind eye to the issues that may likely emerge. There is just one key objective here: keeping the Korean platform economy healthy.  The Korean government should focus on supporting small businesses that can innovate within the platform ecosystem. This would act as a counterbalance to the dominance of Korean tech giants without dismantling them or letting foreign entities dominate the market. Let’s look at some approaches that can help achieve this ideal outcome. a.   Expand financial assistance: Incubators and AcceleratorsKorea has already established a solid environment for startups. The Ministry of SMEs and Startups, after its formal establishment in 2017, has played a critical role in fostering this environment. It ensures that critical components like Incubators and Accelerators can do their part in assisting startups. Incubators are organizations that focus on helping early-stage companies refine their business ideas by providing various resources. Accelerators focus on helping companies scale quickly, providing support such as mentorship and educational components.   For example, Korea has developed initiatives like the Creative Economy Innovation Centers and launched TIPS (Tech Incubator Program for Startups) to function as both Incubators and Accelerators. Utilizing these well-developed initiatives, the digital platform economy could be improved as well. Instead of imposing regulations on a specific company in a specific industry, the government could provide more support to small companies through these initiatives.  b. Collaboration: Big platform companies and small firms can collaborateIt almost sounds too good to be true, but establishing a genuinely mutually beneficial and non-exploitative framework is essential and possible. We’re accustomed to seeing big companies exploit small companies, as those cases usually end up in headlines on the news. But successful cases like Naver’s D2 Startup Factory (D2SF)exist as well. D2SF supports startups in various areas such as AI, robotics, and cloud computing. Small companies gain mentorship and infrastructure, and in return, Naver gets the external innovation it needs.  With the right government support to incentivize the big platform companies, this mutual framework can be expanded to the digital platform economy as well. The relationship has to be mutually advantageous to both the big and small companies: if this resembles a mere handout from the big to small companies it cannot be sustainable. D2SF is mutually beneficial to both Naver and the small companies, which made the program so successful – since its establishment in 2015, D2SF has successfully partnered with more than 110 startups. For such relationships to be established, a program should aim for long-term collaboration where both parties can invest in the growth of one another.  It is important to note that the two solutions above are fundamentally different from strict regulations. While imposing harsh regulations and supporting small firms both aim to enhance competition, they achieve the goal in vastly different ways. Imposing strict regulations focuses on controlling the power of tech giants, which may risk stifling innovation and cause companies to become overly cautious. Considering the traits of the Korean platform economy discussed above, this could have unintended downsides. On the other hand, supporting small firms focuses on building up smaller firms to level the playground. In the long run, this approach may create a more sustainable and competitive market. Future of the Korean Platform EconomyThe Korean platform economy stands at a crossroads, as the government begins to respond to the growth of the platform economy in general. While what the U. S. has been doing to big companies may seem promising, we don’t have to take that path. Instead of taking a page out of their book, let’s use the resources and frameworks available in our own startup industry. By deploying financial support to small firms with potential and fostering collaboration between large platforms and smaller firms, Korea has the chance to further develop a robust platform economy.  

In March 2022, Hyundai Department Store sparked controversy for prohibiting a mother and her infant daughter from entering its VIP lounge. Its policy states, “People can use the lounge once a day with a companion, but children under 10 are prohibited. ” Hyundai Department Store explained that the age-limit restriction aims to maintain a “luxurious, comfortable atmosphere” in the lounge and address potential safety concerns, adding, “We did not design the lounge with children in mind. ”In recent years, South Korea has witnessed a steady rise in child-free zones, also known as “no-kids zones”. While some argue that these zones address the practical concerns of businesses and customers, others see them as a reflection of growing social intolerance towards one another, leading to the marginalization of families. Since the expansion of no-kids zones is a multifaceted issue, this article delves into the perspectives of businesses, parents, and the public and government. Instead of understanding this issue as a binary between parents and those disturbed by children, this article introduces a promising balance of various opinions: the concept of “care kids zones. ” By replacing “no” with “care,” South Korea gains an opportunity to address this issue in a way that promotes harmony.  What are No-Kids Zones?No-kids zones refer to spaces where access and usage are restricted to adults, prohibiting the presence of children. The concept first emerged around July 2014 in Gangnam and Hongdae, where cafes and restaurants started banning entry by children. The main reason behind this was children’s disruptive behavior without appropriate supervision from their parents. These zones are most commonly found in cafes and bakeries(76. 1%) and restaurants(18%), according to a 2023 survey by the Ministry of Health and Welfare. Recently, leisure spaces such as department stores have also started to adopt these policies, as mentioned earlier.   Why, then, should the rise of no-kids zones be considered a troubling issue in South Korea? No-kids zones are increasing across the country rapidly, which may have long-lasting impacts on societal fragmentation by removing families’ presence in public spaces. A report by the Jeju Research Institution identified at least 542 businesses operating as no-kids zones in Korea in 2021, with the actual number expected to be higher since these zones do not require registration. JongYik Jeong from Ewha Womans University noted that this number represents an increase of over 45% since 2018, underscoring the rapid expansion of no-kids establishments. Now, let us examine the different perspectives on this issue to understand the profound impact this has on societal cohesion.   The Perspectives of Parents: Facing the Demographic CliffThe proliferation of no-kids zones may lead parents to feel that their parental ability is insufficient since many attribute these establishments to children being disruptive without parental supervision. Moreover, the no-kids establishments uncover deeply entrenched attitudes that eliminate the presence of families with young children in public spaces. These days, children are not only considered as disturbances but nuisances in public spaces by many, and this sentiment may apply to parents. Particularly, as mothers are typically the ones carrying children in public, they are likely to feel excluded too by societal hostility towards their children.  This sentiment coincides with the country’s dire demographic situation. Since 2018, South Korea has been the only OECD member with a birth rate below 1. 0, and in 2024, the number of elementary school entrants declined by 10. 3% compared to the previous year. Critics say that the proliferation of no-kids establishments may exacerbate this trend by marginalizing families with children. Since no-kids zones signify that children are considered burdensome in public spaces, people will perceive society as less accommodating for family life. The exclusionary nature of no-kids policies could also deepen generational divides, as individual convenience is prioritized over the needs of families with children. This, in turn, creates a vicious cycle where cultural individualism and diminishing population perpetuate.    Furthermore, this exclusion aligns with South Korea’s demanding work culture, which leaves parents struggling to balance career and childcare responsibilities. According to OECD data, the average annual working hours for South Korea were 1,874 hours in 2023, which exceeds the average by 155 hours. The fact that this number has fallen by nearly 200 hours over the past decade highlights the pressuring working environments in South Korea.  In these working conditions, parents find it difficult to find a work-life balance, leading to a significant source of stress and limited energy for child supervision. This creates a perception in society that children are unruly in public spaces, and parents are not taking full responsibility. In such a demanding environment, the rise of unwelcoming environments for families further alienates parents.  The Business Perspective: Facing Practical ChallengesFrom the perspectives of business owners, the decision to implement no-kids policies stems from legitimate concerns, which makes this issue more complex. A 2023 survey by the Ministry of Health and Welfare revealed that 35. 9% of businesses cited potential conflicts with other customers due to noisy children as a primary reason for implementing the policy. Another 35. 2% expressed a preference for maintaining a quiet atmosphere, while 28. 1% worried about disputes with parents who failed to supervise their children adequately. As these data show, businesses are facing practical challenges for their profit. They are trying to meet the customers’ needs while protecting themselves from having to be fully responsible for issues involving children. In this light, no-kids policies may seem like a good solution to mitigate risks and complaints.   These concerns are not unfounded, indeed. In 2011, a child collided with a staff member carrying a hot pot in one of the restaurants in Busan, which resulted in a costly legal battle for the business. The Busan District Court ordered the restaurant to compensate the family with 41 million won, attributing 30% of the responsibility to the child’s parents and 70% to the restaurant. This case reveals that there is a lack of insurance programs that offer affordable, comprehensive insurance programs that cover businesses’ efforts in trying to incorporate the presence of children into their establishments. Specifically, businesses are not given enough subsidies to deal with accidents raised by children. Furthermore, there are no clear, consistent government guidelines for child safety measures in public spaces. This places a bigger psychological burden on business owners, as children are often unpredictable.  The Public and Government Response: Balancing OpinionsThe debate over the increase of no-kids zones has drawn attention from public institutions and the government too. The National Human Rights Commission of Korea has emphasized the need to balance business interests with human rights. It noted that companies have the right to establish policies for profit, but that right is limited. Policies prohibiting children restrict parents with young kids from accessing certain areas. Specifically, such policies may violate Article 11 of the Constitutional Law and Article 2, Clause 3 of the National Rights Committee Law, which forbid age-based discrimination. Having this in mind, in May 2023, Jeju Island’s local council, Song-Chang-Won, proposed the No-Kids Zones Prohibition Ordinance. However, it was met with significant protests by businesses and individuals, leading to the bill’s suspension.  In fact, the public largely remains to support the adoption of no-kids policies. According to a survey conducted by the Korea Research Institute titled “What is the public opinion about the No Kids Zone,” 71% of respondents deemed no kids zones acceptable, while only 17% opposed them. Notably, among those who had been disturbed by children, 82% supported no-kids zones. This highly resonates with the broader cultural trend of prioritizing more peaceful, controlled spaces that offer people opportunities to escape from their overwhelming daily lives. Dr. Xander Tilland critically notes, “Koreans in their 20s and 30s have high expectations for private spaces and are intolerant of the noise made by young children and seniors. These attitudes reflect a reluctance to embrace others in public spaces. ” While it is understandable that younger generations face extreme stress and seek peaceful spaces, the cultural shift from collectivism—where mutual tolerance was valued—to individualism raises concerns about societal cohesion. This transformation addresses individual needs but weakens communal harmony.   A Promising Resolution Towards a Tolerant Society: The Care Kids ZonesViewed from different perspectives, it becomes clear that a balance is mandatory. Specifically, parents should teach their children appropriate public behaviors and take responsibility when their children disturb customers. If children act inappropriately, parents should address the situation and apologize. Businesses, at the same time, should strive to create safe environments for children by clearly marking potential hazards so that parents can proactively manage their children’s safety. These mutual efforts can lead to a more harmonious society.  The concept of care kids zones—by replacing the exclusionary “no” with the inclusive “care”—presents a promising resolution by integrating conflicting opinions and addressing the needs of all stakeholders. These zones create a welcoming environment for families with children while emphasizing parental responsibility for supervision and businesses’ responsibility for ensuring a safe and accommodating space for all customers. Typically, a care kids zone would enforce clear guidelines such as the following: “XX is a care kids zone. Parents must accompany their children at all times due to safety risks. The café holds no liability for accidents, and parents are fully responsible for damages caused by children. Please respect others so that everyone can enjoy their time here. ” This approach balances inclusivity and responsibility, providing families with a welcoming experience while addressing the practical concerns of businesses and other customers.  However, critics argue that this campaign places the full responsibility for any issues caused by children solely on the parents. Hence, to truly tackle the issue, we should aim to seek a more comprehensive balance that includes proper parental supervision, strong support from governments and policies for businesses, and the fostering of mutual understanding. In this light, the “Seoul Kids OK Zone” initiative, an application of care kids zones, seeks to create more child-friendly spaces by encouraging businesses to offer child-friendly menus, utensils, and furniture. In return, businesses receive a 300,000 won subsidy for child-friendly equipment, which not only offsets the costs of preparing to welcome children but also increases their overall income in the long term. In conclusion, the rise of no-kids zones calls for South Korean society to address growing intolerance, which, if left disregarded, could have long-lasting effects on social fragmentation. It is crucial to recognize that children are a natural and necessary part of society. By establishing more care kids zones with ample governmental support and fostering a culture of mutual respect, South Korea can take a meaningful step towards building a more cohesive society.  

“She’s the fifth person I know to leave this year – and it’s only the beginning of March,” I thought glumly, trudging along my way home. I, a fourteen-year-old living in Sejong Special Self-Governing City, had just heard the news that my friend Gina was moving to Seoul in a few days. She wasn’t the only one leaving the city. More and more families were moving out of Sejong. Some were heading to Seoul, others to nearby big cities like Daejeon. The number of departures seemed to increase each year. It wasn’t always like this, though. My mind shifted to elementary school when my school had to make a whole new class to accommodate new students. That was barely four years ago. But now, people seemed to be moving out just as quickly as they had arrived. Why was that? What problems did Sejong have in attracting the population of Seoul and retaining its own? To understand Sejong, we must go back to why it was built. The drastic population growth of Seoul began in the 1970s, coinciding with rapid economic development. Seoul’s overpopulation led to skyrocketing house prices, pollution, the overuse of resources, as well as the growing gap in wealth and standard of living between Seoul and other provincial areas. Government officials sought to solve the problem by creating a new administrative capital. This was first suggested by former president Kim Dae-jung in 1971. Despite some skepticism, many presidents supported separating the economic and the administrative capital throughout the years, regardless of their political stance.  After overcoming constitutional challenges and a year-long legal battle, relocating the administrative capital to the Chungcheong area was ultimately approved. Named after the Great King Sejong of the late Joseon Dynasty, the new capital Sejong Special Self-Governing City officially launched on July 1st, 2012. As of 2024, 45 central government agencies, 16 national research institutes, and 10 public institutions have been repositioned to Sejong. During the development process, many of the city’s characteristics were adopted from the winning proposal of a conceptual design competition open to architects. The winning design incorporated abstract concepts like democracy and equality, which were actualized by a “decentralized” city layout. The city’s layout featured a ring-shaped system and a set of 25 equally-ranked small towns.  However, despite its bold plan and promising start, Sejong has faced significant controversy, especially regarding whether it has effectively attracted the population from Seoul. Although Sejong had successfully brought in numerous government agencies and research institutes with over fifty thousand employees, only a few have made the city their residence. This brings us to the core issue: Sejong struggles to meet the needs of its residents. If even those working in Sejong choose not to live there, how can the city expect any new residents?Ironically, it is Sejong's initial goals and intended plans that make the city unfit for living. More specifically, the problem is the lack of proper execution of goals which were far too idealistic. Let’s delve into some of the main problems that residents have with the city.  The Lack of a Central HubOne core issue Sejong faces is the lack of a “downtown” area. Sejong’s theme of decentralization was implemented by designing the administrative city into a ring-shaped system with no particular central hub, distributing its functions into six living zones. Zones 1 through 6 encircle Zone S, a space left open to preserve the natural environment. As of 2024, more than half of the population resides in Zones 1 and 2.   Zone 1, with the Prime Minister’s Office, the Government Complex, and forty-four central administrative agencies,  represents central administration. Zone 2, on the other hand, is a place for arts & culture and international commerce.   Each of the six zones incorporates unique public facilities that align with their designated themes. Source: 행복청 (National Agency for Administrative City Construction)  The distribution of governmental buildings across each zone naturally led to the distribution of commercial buildings. While the commercial facilities in each zone are enough to fulfill basic needs, none of them are large enough to develop the bustling downtown atmosphere that most cities have. As a result, residents find it inconvenient to enjoy leisure activities since amenities like movie theaters and shopping malls are spread across multiple zones. The absence of a focal point in the city also causes the high vacancy rate of commercial properties. According to the Korea Real Estate Agency, as of July 2024, the vacancy rate of commercial buildings in Sejong has reached 25. 7%, ranking as the highest in the country. Due to the inconvenience of enjoying leisure activities in Sejong, citizens go to Daejeon or Cheongju to have fun. This has contributed to the decline of Sejong’s commercial area, despite Sejong ranking fifth in the nation for income levels.  Cities naturally develop around a central hub, and a strong hub attracts people from other cities. The absence of such a hub in Sejong makes it more challenging for the city to grow and appeal to new residents.   Inconvenient TransportationIf a city lacks a central hub, it should—at the very least—have extensive and convenient modes of transportation for citizens to travel around zones. However, Sejong has also failed to maintain an efficient transportation system.  Sejong was planned as South Korea’s first-ever public transportation-centered city, with  70% of all transportation to be done via public transportation. However, this goal seems to have largely failed. The time gap between intercity buses is wide and irregular, some even being over thirty minutes. The Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) system, originally initiated as an alternative to subways, also faces the problem of long waiting times. Concerns of inclusivity and accessibility have also been raised with the BRT; some BRT vehicles have platformed floors, making boarding difficult for wheelchair users.  In direct opposition to the initial plan, the many issues with public transportation have made Sejong a city where driving a car is almost a necessity. The  Korea Transport Database revealed that, in 2020, 45. 4% of transportation within the city was by car while only 7. 3% was by city buses, placing Sejong among one of the lowest in the country for the rate of public transportation used.   Even for drivers, the experience is far from ideal, with inconvenient roads being the main reason. Although Sejong’s road coverage is around 24%, comparable to other cities, there are no wide boulevards or large avenues—just narrower roads, mostly four lanes or less, spread evenly across the city. This is because the internal road network of Sejong is designed to be decentralized and non-hierarchical, aligning with the city’s theme of equality and distribution. Excessive traffic control—speed bumps every minute and speed limits changing every block—combined with the two-lane roads cause heavy traffic congestion during rush hours, especially near the Government Complex and City Hall.  An Unfulfilled Aesthetic Vision  Although Sejong City has been very experimental in its architectural design, there has been criticism from residents regarding its aesthetic. This is due to the high-rise apartment buildings surrounding the city, blocking the view. The initial development guide for the administrative city emphasized harmony with the surrounding landscape. Therefore, regulations on building heights were necessary to preserve the city’s skyline and to maintain a clear view of its significant landmarks. However, these restrictions on the number of stories and the height of buildings only apply in the vicinity of the government complex and along Hanuri Avenue. This results in a contrast where commercial buildings in the area are limited to eight floors, while residential apartment buildings elsewhere are 20 to 30 stories tall.   Consequently, Sejong’s skyline, initially intended to be framed by low mountains, is instead dominated by tall apartment buildings, obscuring views of key landmarks. Primary landmarks like the government complex, Millmaru Observatory, and Mount Gyeryong are often difficult to see and only visible up close.  Unlike other new cities primarily built to attract people from Seoul, Sejong carries the unique significance of being Korea’s only administrative city. Sejong set out with ambitious goals as Korea’s administrative capital. With themes of democracy and peace, the city aimed to create something innovative and fresh—a city focused on public transit, built without a central hub, and full of unique architecture you wouldn’t find elsewhere. However, efforts to reinforce the city’s theme have eroded some of Sejong’s functional value. A failure to effectively restrict the heights of buildings has resulted in large amounts of high-story apartment buildings, therefore ruining the city’s aesthetic. The execution of policies without adequate focus on resident convenience has also resulted in discomfort and further population outflow. The decentralized and public transportation-focused nature of Sejong was supposed to be its strength, but it is now a weakness due to its lack of practicality. Nevertheless, Sejong has the highest happiness rate in Korea and the lowest crime rates per unit of population, making it an attractive place to raise children. These favorable conditions have contributed to Sejong achieving the highest birth rate in the country. The challenge is retaining the rest of its population. In particular, the population of people in their 20s actually decreased in 2023. In South Korea, the number of individuals who choose to live on their own and without children makes up more than 30% of the population. For these individuals, entertainment and convenience take priority over family-oriented environments. With inconvenient transit and a deficiency of entertainment venues, Sejong fails to meet its priorities. This is an obstacle to the city’s efforts to attract and retain residents outside its demographic of young families. For Sejong to truly prosper, it must address the problems that residents are facing. If Sejong overcomes its challenges, the city can also appeal to child-free couples or one-person households. Creating a more practical environment while maintaining its family-friendly atmosphere and its unique role as an administrative city would bring the city closer to achieving its original goal of redistributing the population of the Seoul metropolitan area. As Sejong continues to grow and evolve, I hope it can one day be recognized as a thriving administrative capital.

Dear readers, have you ever found yourself intrigued by messages like “Automated Income: Build a system to earn 100 million won immediately without working,” “7-step life hacks to gain complete financial freedom,” or “The absolute law of success that will make you a happy, rich person”? Believe it or not, these flashy lines were featured in ads for some of last year’s best-selling books. Now, let me walk you to another corner of the bookstore. “Your forties are not a mistake. ” “After reading this book, all your anxiety will disappear. ” “You are the most precious thing in this universe. ” These, too, are advertisements for some of the most popular books. The fact that such messages are written on the covers of bestsellers probably means that many people actually expect to gain such things promised by reading these books. All these books fall under what we call “self-help books,” which underscores how much “self-improvement” has become a buzzword in Korea. Let’s back this up with some data. For instance, let’s dive into Google search trends for the term “self-improvement” from 2010 to 2023.  (purple: South Korea, Yellow: US, Gray: Japan)These trends measure interest, with 100 being the peak. Comparing South Korea, the United States, and Japan, the differences are stark. The U. S. stayed steady at around 50, while Japan dropped from 60 to the 40s. South Korea, though? Interest has skyrocketed from below 10 to over 60 in 2023. Temporarily during COVID-19, interest has shot up even higher, reaching levels close to 100. This tells us that while self-improvement started gaining traction later in Korea than in other countries, it’s now a bigger deal here than anywhere else. This rapid growth shows that Korea’s self-help trend is unique and is still on the rise. This societal sentiment is reflected in the books we read. The fact that certain books are widely read now is ultimately a response to the desires of the consuming public. Therefore, reading should be examined not just as an individual act but also on a more collective and cultural level. It forms a circular structure where the messages people seek are published, and those messages, in turn, are reinforced within society. That's why discussions about the book market can ultimately be a good lens for looking at Korean society. In other words, as mentioned at the beginning, if self-help books make up a large proportion of current Korean bestsellers, they cannot be considered separate from the intense social interest that Koreans have in self-improvement culture, as shown by the Google search results. In fact, the influence of self-help books in the Korean book market is considerable. Let’s look at the data from the Publication Industry Promotion Agency of Korea (KPIPA). Comparing the sales statistics by book genre in the publishing market, books classified as self-help books significantly outperformed other books in terms of sales volume, sales amount, annual growth rate, and unit price between 2022 and 2023. While the sales volume of self-help books grew by 19. 08% over a year, other genres saw an average increase of only 3. 96%. Sales amount also jumped by 29. 61% for self-help books, while other genres saw an increase of  11. 08%. Considering the most recent statistics by the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism that show an alarmingly low level of reading among Koreans, self-help books seem to be showing exceptional strength. When self-help books occupy the top three spots of Kyobo Bookstore’s annual bestseller list, what more needs to be said about their popularity?translation: Sales volume growth, sales amount growth, other genres VS self-help books, unit: millions So, what are these self-help books all about? The concept of “books that help you better who you are ” is perhaps too vague. What exactly makes these books resonate so strongly in Korean society? To answer that, the top 30 bestselling self-help books from Kyobo Bookstore in 2023 were analyzed. While they span different sub-genres, two distinct categories stand out. Let’s call them: “Guidebooks to Get Rich” and “Comforting Letters. ” These two types might seem worlds apart, but they both reveal fascinating insights into Korean society. Here’s a breakdown. Guidebooks to Get RichFirst, there are books that are guides on how to make money. These books appear to be for people who hope to become rich. Various methods are given on how to reach this end goal: change your language habits, take notes frequently, create a mindset to think 10 times bigger than before, and so on. The authors typically use the device of ‘rags to riches’ stories, saying that they, too, were once unremarkable, but by trying these methods, were able to quickly accumulate wealth. One book highlights the story of a former YouTuber author who says, “Just 10 years ago, he was an ordinary person receiving a monthly salary of 1. 6 million won. ” Another author, who introduces himself as the CEO of seven corporations and as a YouTuber, confesses that he “lived like a zombie without any thoughts, trapped by these walls: study, money, appearance”; he  “was at the bottom of the class at school and a mess in life. ” They also draw readers in with storytelling like, “That friend who used to live in a semi-basement, who didn’t stand out in studies or talent, has now become a man with immeasurable wealth. ” In this way, all these books that tell stories of people with humble beginnings making a lot of money in a short period of time and passing on tips that can be easily followed have become bestsellers. The promise is that if the author could do it, so can you. Online reviews reveal just how much readers buy into these ideas. Comments like “I love the author’s heart and their willingness to share this life-changing advice” or “I’m planning to reread this book 100 times because it’s that good” show how these books tap into people’s hope and belief in a brighter future. And the methods mentioned are shockingly simple. For example, one book claims, “If you say it out loud a thousand times, your wish will surely come true. ” It gives the feeling that just by reading a book, one might be able to manifest a different reality. Comforting LettersSecond, there are books that are like warm letters that comfort readers. The target audience here is “tired people. ” Keywords like “fatigue, irritation, anxiety” repeatedly appear in the marketing of these books. The messages they impart seem to deeply touch the members of Korean society who are all living difficult lives in a highly competitive world. For example, there was a best-selling book offering advice to people in their 40s who think it’s too late to start something new or are experiencing a midlife crisis. Another book that collected words from writers, philosophers, and spiritual gurus, emphasizing the importance of enjoying the present, has also gained popularity. In fact, these books don’t offer any concrete solutions. Their main significance lies in understanding and diagnosing the struggles of their readers. And they remind us of things we’ve overlooked while living busy lives in soft and elegant sentences. Though obvious at times, the “wisdom” is often packaged in a unique way using philosophical, abstract, instructive, and even spiritual language. This is how these self-help books sympathize with the inevitably negative emotions experienced by people in modern society and heal wounds. The act of purchasing such warm comfort seems to provide psychological ease to today’s Koreans. Buyer reviews included remarks such as “I gifted it for peace of mind,” and “Reading the prologue that said it’s okay to solve only half of life’s homework, I felt sincerely comforted for the first time in a long while. ” In a modern society that demands more effort and achievement, messages like “you don’t have to try that hard” or “you are enough as you are” that cheer people up seem to be exactly what many people want to hear. Common Ground: Dissatisfaction with LifeAt first glance, the simultaneous popularity of these two categories of self-help books seemed to be quite contradictory. One tells you to hustle harder; the other tells you to relax and let go. One uses tough language and goal-oriented narratives, while the other instills one with the courage to be satisfied with the present through the use of abstract and comforting words. But beneath the surface, both categories of self-help exist to capitalize off of the same thing: dissatisfaction with one’s current life. Because people are dissatisfied with their current lives, they either seek easy solutions to obtain a materially abundant lifestyle, or they seek magical sentences that sympathize and understand how difficult they have it. People who buy “Guidebooks to Get Rich” feel their lives would be better if only they had more money. Meanwhile, those drawn to “Comforting Letters” want relief from the stress of trying so hard. Both categories reflect a yearning to escape the struggles of life. The trends of the self-help book market arise from essentially the same perception of reality. The Problems with These BooksOf course, there’s nothing wrong with cultivating various abilities and the mind to become a better self that achieves one’s own goals. However, it’s true that there are concerning points in the recent self-help book trend. Let’s point out why this is problematic. First, books that teach how to become rich focus on the goal of self-improvement only in the monetary sense. The fact that many people want this proves how obsessive our society is toward financial success. If these books continue to fuel this collective obsession, it could go as extreme as unhealthy behaviors like money worship. Also, they suggest very simple solutions as if they are really the shortcuts to becoming rich, while most of them are actually rather improbable. People captivated by and believing in the “shortcuts” may blame themselves and their perceived lack of effort in practicing the solutions when their financial state does not change.  It’s not easy to say that books that call for healing are always proper either. They also risk making people settle where they are rather than improving themselves. People may feel encouraged to avoid problems rather than persevere to reach healthy growth. In other words, while it’s good to comfort the mind, we need to recognize the limitation that the message may not be pragmatic as long as we live in the real world. Strictly speaking, this would not “help” anyone improve themselves, despite the name “self-help books. ”A Reflection of SocietyIn this way, this article acknowledges the presence of books as a reflection of society and looks into the popular self-improvement culture in Korea through an analysis of the self-help book market. By analyzing the self-help book market, we gain a window into Korean people’s psyche. These books reveal a nation grappling with the fast pace and pressure of modern life, longing for a better, happier existence. By providing simple solutions and actionable steps, self-help books can empower individuals and give them a sense of control over their lives. Explaining the two categories of self-help books and mentioning their potential risks is not to blame or criticize them—many people might consider them a valuable resource for personal growth. Nevertheless, it’s crucial to approach self-help books with a balanced perspective and to recognize the potential flaws of such simplified advice. We should approach them with caution, remembering that they reflect a society deeply affected by competition and dissatisfaction. The key to happiness isn’t contained in a single self-help book. What we need is a broader discussion about the social structures making life so difficult in the first place. We must address the systemic factors that contribute to individual struggles and discuss the solutions together.

Late night on Tuesday, December 3rd, President Yoon Seok-yeol declared emergency martial law on national television, sending shockwaves throughout the country. All media showed live footage of the military being dispatched to the National Assembly, where members of the assembly were headed to try to nullify this measure at once. The image of police buses barricading the main gate, armed troops and civilians interlocked in a struggle, and lawmakers—including the chairman—jumping the National Assembly gates to get inside the building, was altogether reminiscent of a time when Korea was under authoritarian rule and protesting for democratization in the 80s. Lamentably, the country had to witness history repeat itself in 2024.  President Yoon’s move took everyone by surprise. Although the National Assembly managed to lift the martial law in a matter of hours, many questions still remain: why did this happen? How was this even possible? What was Yoon thinking? Where do we go from here? It may not yet be possible to give definitive answers but here, we attempt to shed some light on the past and potential progression of events, Yoon’s rationale and its reception, and a brief history of martial law in contemporary Korean history that shows why this issue holds such significance among the people today.  Why did this happen, and how did the events unfold?At around 10:30 P. M. on Tuesday, December 3rd, President Yoon Seok-yeol, in an urgent public address, declared emergency martial law to combat what he described as “unprecedented threats to South Korea’s democratic institutions and national stability. ” Citing repeated impeachment attempts and severe budget cuts by the opposing Democratic Party (the current parliamentary majority), Yoon accused the party of attempting to “overthrow the liberal democratic system. ” He vowed to eradicate anti-state forces and protect the country and its Constitution from “threats of North Korean communist forces,” which he implied is upheld by the opposition party. Subsequently, a martial law command post was established, gaining temporary authority to conduct military and administrative actions. At 11 P. M. , it issued the first decree, the contents of which included the prohibition of any political activities including National Assemblies, rallies, protests or strikes, and strict control of the press and publishing, etc. Notably, Article 6 of the decree singled out all medical personnel, who have been on a long-term strike since the beginning of the year, requiring them to return immediately to their posts within 48 hours. Anyone failing to abide by the decree could be arrested, detained, or searched without a warrant, and would be subject to trial in a military court. Lawmakers rushed to the parliament to take a vote against the martial law. At the same time, soldiers equipped with guns and night vision goggles were also trying to force their way into the building, backed by helicopters and armored vehicles. Whether the soldiers were equipped with live ammunition is still unknown. As the troops made their way from the main gates to the building entrance, civilians and parliamentary aides attempted to block their paths. Meanwhile, lawmakers trickled in, ultimately amounting to 190 members, thus satisfying the quorum. The vote was held shortly past 1 A. M. on Wednesday, December 4th, and the parliament unanimously voted to reject the president’s declaration. The president, after staying silent for two hours, announced at around 4:30 A. M. that he would lift the martial law. In total, South Korea was under martial law for around six hours.  What is martial law, and how does it work?Martial law signifies military rule, or military control of civilian government affairs in times of national emergency in order to maintain public well-being and safety. It is classified into two types: guarding and emergency martial law. The former allows the martial commander to have control over matters related to the military; the latter, in contrast, gives the commander total control of all administrative and legislative matters, including civil ones. Essentially, under emergency martial law, the President gains full control over all branches of the state. The latter, a more escalated type of martial law, was the one President Yoon had declared. Article 77 of the Korean Constitution states that the President may proclaim martial law under grave national emergencies—“war, armed conflict, or a similar national emergency”—in order to maintain public safety and order. The President is required to report this decision to the National Assembly immediately. The same article also states the right of the parliament to request the lifting of martial law with the vote of a majority of the total members of the National Assembly. Upon receiving such a request, the President is bound by the Constitution to comply. The Constitution hence ensures the separation of powers: declaring martial law is under the jurisdiction of the executive branch, and lifting it falls under the jurisdiction of the legislative branch.   When has martial law been declared in the past?Martial law was declared for the first time in Korea in 1948, and has since been declared a total of 16 times—12 being emergency martial law, and 4 being guarding martial law. Most recently in history, martial law was declared on May 17th, 1980 following a coup d'état, shortly after which countless civilians were killed by the state’s armed forces during a  protest against the coup in the southern city of Gwangju. The “5. 18 Gwangju democratization movement” was a tragic yet pivotal moment in Korean history, which has served as a hallmark of the Nation’s fight for democracy. Martial law had not been declared by any president since then. That makes the emergency martial law decreed by President Yoon on Tuesday the first of its kind in 44 years, the first one in the 21st century.  What do people think? What’s next?The Republic of Korea is home to a hard-earned democracy, having been through a turbulent period of military dictatorship and violent transfers of power throughout its history. For a significant portion of the population, the struggle of democratization is still clearly etched into memory. The younger generation, in turn, has heard enough stories from parents and grandparents to know the gravity of the issue. Naturally, the subject of authoritarianism is a sore spot—one that the country thought had already healed from, but was cut wide open by these recent events. The country is deeply perplexed as to what exactly Yoon intended to achieve through this seemingly rushed decision. Many are interpreting his move as a desperate Hail Mary, as the President was increasingly backed into a corner by the opposing party and was facing a crisis in his political career. Others believe that he had an elaborate plan in mind, which didn’t come to fruition because of the military’s lackluster performance. In any case, the most important question to be asked is the legality of Yoon’s decision and its execution. Was the situation at hand—“severe political opposition” and vaguely-worded references to “North Korean threats”—so substantial as to satisfy the condition of “war, armed conflict or a similar national emergency,” as stated in the Constitution? Wasn’t his decision to prohibit all political activities, including that of the National Assembly, a fundamental violation of the separation of powers? With further investigation revealing more evidence that the President may have acted in violation of the Martial Law Act, the Democratic Party now believes there are more than enough grounds for impeachment. They are set to take this matter to a vote as early as this Friday. Meanwhile, concerns of dictatorship and the ‘backsliding’ of democracy ring loud and clear amongst the Koreans—alarmed citizens are flocking to Gwanghwamun, demanding for Yoon to step down or to be arrested for insurrection. The students of Seoul National University, Yoon’s alma mater, are also raising their voices by issuing statements and gathering on campus to call for Yoon to be stripped of office. Korean society is putting up a united front to defend our democracy and our rights. The people have spoken, but whether Yoon will listen, remains to be seen.

Kyopo: The Spocks and Clark Kents All Around UsThink about all the television shows starring a human-like being who looks very much like us, but doesn’t understand anything about our culture, or way of life. They bumble their way through, trying (and failing at times) to understand what it means to be one in the crowd, often standing out like a sore thumb. The premise makes for good TV—we have our Clark Kents, Spocks, and Doctor Whos, who at first glance pass as human, but upon close examination, do not truly behave human-ly. And while it is endlessly entertaining to see the ways in which Spock’s Vulcan background causes him to speak stiffly and solve problems with pure logic, or to see Superman try to understand the limitations of humans who aren’t quite as “Super” as him, there also are many episodes dedicated to how lonely it must feel to be the one outlying individual living among millions of others who are largely similar. This is not too different from what the Kyopo face on a day-to-day basis, especially those who currently live in Korea. Although the Kyopo look very much like your typical Korean, they actually come from completely different cultural backgrounds. Just like Clark Kent, Kyopo often deal with loneliness as they try to fit into the largely homogenous Korean society. Our Bretheren from OverseasWho exactly are “Kyopo”? The literal Hanja translation of “Kyopo” is “siblings/brethren from overseas”. Kyopo are part of the Korean diaspora and the term is commonly used to refer to descendants of early emigrants from Korea whose family history stretches back for generations in their countries of residence, or it can refer to recent immigrants who have spent comparatively less time living overseas. Around 84. 5% of Kyopo live within 5 countries: China, the US, Japan, Canada, and Uzbekistan, with the US and China hosting the vast majority of Kyopo at around 2. 5 million each. If you consider the fact that the global Kyopo population stands at 7. 3 million, compared to the 51. 6 million people living in Korea, we can see that the number of Kyopo is nothing to scoff at, and they represent a huge and significant population of ethnic Koreans. This large number of Kyopo is also quite a recent phenomenon, as migration out of Korea was reportedly scarce until the late 19th century. Even then, most of Korea’s migrants would move to China and Russia due to their geographic adjacence. Japan began hosting many Korean immigrants, particularly after the Japanese occupation of Korea, as many Koreans (both forcibly and voluntarily) moved to the Japanese Empire. As for further flung countries like the United States, massive growth in the population of Kyopo was triggered by key historical and political events like the Immigration Reform Act of 1965 (which removed immigration quotas for ethnic groups), and the large number of orphans from the Korean War brought over to the US. With a significant difference between their new host country and Korea, many Kyopo decide to live in ethnic enclaves within their host countries, in or around huge concentrations of fellow Kyopo. “K-Towns” are the colloquial names given to these areas, where many find a sense of community due to their shared cultural background. Kyopo are better able to provide support for each other within K-Towns, as they face similar pressures and hold similar values. This can include running H-Marts stocked with often “scarcely available” traditional Korean ingredients such as Korean chili paste (Gochujang) and running facilities like Korean-speaking churches, Korean weekend schools, or Taekwondo schools, which are in high demand among Kyopo. The Complex Identity of KyopoAs with most ethnic diasporas, Kyopos face seemingly paradoxical pressures. On the one hand, there is the need to adapt to life in their countries of residence; on the other hand, there is the need to feel connected to Korea. Navigating these pressures becomes even more complicated when we consider the varied identities of Kyopo individuals. Some consider themselves citizens of their current nation first and of Korea second; some feel the opposite, and some feel like they are a unique combination of both, with a more fluid ethnic identity. Physical appearance has also been a serious point of contention over a Kyopo’s “Korean-ness”. In theory, if someone who has a Korean biological parent and has non-Korean-looking physical features wishes to identify as ethnically Korean, they should be allowed to do so. But whether Korean society would be willing to accept an ethnic Korean with “non-Korean features” is certainly still up for debate. The fact that many K-Pop idols with such features have been questioned about their parentage and hounded about their supposed “nation of origin” even when these matters have little relevance suggests that issues of physical appearance are still not a small matter in terms of “being Korean”, with Kyopo not being an exception to this scrutiny and judgement. Conversely, other Kyopo reference how even though they may look like a “native Korean,” their cover is blown the minute they start speaking Korean. Even with native-level Korean proficiency, because of their detachment from the locals’ mannerisms, slang, and speech patterns, their Korean might sound dated at best and downright offensive at worst. This is especially the case when it comes to honorifics and formalities, as they are explicitly required when speaking to other Koreans on different rungs of the social hierarchy. Many Kyopo cite the common faux pas of accidentally speaking in the wrong formality, with a common example being using annyeong instead of the honorific annyeonghaseyo to a senior. As many Kyopo grow up only speaking limited or informal Korean with their parents and friends, they likely have little experience with flexibly utilizing formal and informal speech in the day-to-day. Transitioning to a much more socially complex conversation style is an uphill battle for Kyopo, as they require more thinking when formulating sentences, even before vocabulary and grammar come into the picture. Beyond Mere Appearances?The problems presented earlier seem to be relatively surface level, based on physical appearances, speech, and day-to-day behavior. However, there is a deeper dimension that makes it difficult for Kyopo to find a true sense of belonging even if they “appear Korean” and speak fluent, socially acceptable Korean. This is mainly because, underlying these conflicts premised on physical differences is a deeper undercurrent of cultural differences that often separate Western countries from Eastern countries. Especially those Kyopo who have received a Western upbringing are exposed to more liberal ideologies than native Koreans are used to. As such, they are faced with a more critical challenge in their day-to-day lives: the problem of clashing cultures, values, and norms. Kyopo may adopt more individualistic orientations, or find it more socially acceptable to express their true thoughts and intentions. One Kyopo exchange student at SNU expressed that though he enjoys talking about politics, he found out that he is unable to do so openly in Korea and expressed shock that it was “taboo to speak about it with others. ”Another Kyopo exchange student expressed that she felt “the differences in perspectives and values create a substantial gap when interacting with native Koreans. ” She expressed that while she does value education and academics, she also believes it is important to exercise creativity. She noted that native Koreans tend not to value creativity as much, instead focusing far heavily on academic attainment. Many Kyopo exchange students further expressed the notion that “in the native Korean community, the hierarchical structure is prevalent in every aspect, including the way people address each other and the power dynamics. ” With a culture that generally prefers conformity, uniformity, and a strict system of hierarchy, Kyopo with a more liberal orientation may find it difficult to accept these values, given that the culture seems to run completely against Western values of individualism and self-expression. A clash of values further exacerbates the increasingly prevalent stereotypes about Kyopo spread amongst native Koreans, who sometimes use the term “Kyopo” itself with a negative connotation. In these contexts, instead of being an objective point of reference, the term can act as a label that is associated with the stereotypical emigrant who has lost touch with their Korean roots as a result of staying overseas. A Kyopo, in the negative sense, is thought to have adopted laissez-faire values incompatible with traditional Korean ones. As such, some instead prefer to use the term dongpo, meaning “brethren,” to emphasize the close connections among various overseas groups, even though “Kyopo” is still the more colloquially used and instantly recognizable term. Lowering the Entry Barrier for KyopoIt seems like Korea is a place where the entry barrier is high. Looking the part only scratches the surface. The road to Korean-ness"" is seemingly scattered with various hurdles that Kyopo need to jump over: native-level proficiency in the language, a full understanding of the social hierarchy, a willingness to compromise or even give up their values altogether. Some feel that if they stumble over any one of these, the entry barrier to Korean society will grow taller, out of reach. All this coupled together makes it a difficult space for Kyopo trying to find a sense of warmth and comfort. The question now is: how can we help to break down Korea’s prickly exterior and help Kyopo to find a sense of home in Korea?There is no one simple answer, but being more open to having honest conversations and trying to understand, even if it is difficult to relate to the mixed identity that Kyopo have, are all small steps in the right direction. Kyopo exchange students do acknowledge that they “have a more westernized perspective compared to native Koreans,” but crucially, they display great pride in stating that “[their] roots still lie in Korean culture and values”. Perhaps instead of focusing on the differences between Kyopo and native Koreans, the better way to approach this would be to harken back to the original definition of Kyopo, as “siblings/brethren from overseas”. Imagine if your sibling were to travel overseas. They may change their appearances to fit into the local environment, and may even have a shift in worldviews stemming from their different experiences. They may even come back as a completely changed person that you may have trouble recognizing. But this doesn’t mean that you pick on these changes, however drastic they are, or that you treat them differently because of that. In fact, there is much more room to find interest in their different ways of life and to ask them questions about their time overseas, understanding their differences instead of shunning them. As “siblings from overseas,” Kyopo wish to be welcomed, have their differences understood, and be guided patiently as they find their own unique personal space in a Korea that is so foreign yet so homely to a Kyopo. As brethren and kindred spirits who have more in common than different, Koreans and Kyopo need to make earnest attempts to bridge this gap, because it is only with well-intentioned, kind gestures that the road to acceptance and inclusion is gradually paved. "

The spot price of gold hit a record high of $2,364 per ounce in April. This is a significant rise, as gold was traded at $2,000 per ounce merely a year ago. This means that gold prices are up 16. 5%, or over 300 dollars. According to the World Gold Council(WGC), China’s central bank, and the People’s Bank of China(PBC) was the largest official sector buyer of gold in 2023 at 225 tons; PBC has been snapping up gold for 18 months straight, with its holdings of gold rising 16% over 17 months. The value of China’s gold reserves rose to $168 billion at the end of April. However, it’s not just China where we see this happening. The gold buying spree is a global trend among central banks. According to the WGC, worldwide central bank purchases of gold in 2023 increased by 152% compared to the year before. Okay. It seems that central banks are buying up gold these days. So what? Isn’t gold a matter of countries and official sectors? Isn’t gold investment just for the elderly? This might be what the typical Korean undergraduate is thinking by now. Last semester, when a Chinese teacher in one of the classes at Seoul National University told students about gold investment among Chinese people to secure a safe haven, most students simply laughed it off. However, as an individual investor, you should know that even Gen Z investors in China and Costco customers in the U. S. are buying up large amounts of gold. The current global gold rush is much too significant to be casually dismissed. So, what’s behind the surge in gold prices and the global gold-buying spree? Should we really care about gold investments? Why is gold “money” while the dollar is not? We need to first clarify the distinction between “money” and “currency”, which is best explained in terms of space. While gold and currency both take up physical space, it’s only gold that takes up space in the intangible realm of value. Gold is a precious metal that is valuable in and of itself. Therefore, gold is classified as money, which refers to an intangible system of value. It is a “store of value” that maintains a certain worth now and in the future. The dollar, however, technically holds no intrinsic value. That is why it is a currency. Currency is simply a tangible form of money (in the form of paper, checks, and deposits) used as a “medium of exchange” for goods and services. Currency could become a useless pile of paper because its value plunges depending on the situation. Since gold has an intrinsic value and has proven to be a hedge against inflation, it remains the ultimate safe haven asset. For convenience, people began to store gold in institutions in the form of receipts, which one could exchange for gold any time. People equated these receipts with actual gold, and very few actually traded in their receipts. This receipt is a form of currency, which includes the US Dollar. Even after President Nixon terminated the convertibility of the dollar to gold in 1971, people continued to believe that this currency held value. However, this belief is fundamentally unstable, as the value of currency decreases over time. This is because as time progresses, the physical amount of currency increases. Why is that? Limited amounts of currency in the market lead to decreased demand in consumption, and this leads to economic recession. Thus, to boost consumption, the government prints more currency and grants more loans to people. Since only a small percentage of the currency issued actually ends up being exchanged for gold, the government can distribute a large amount of currency that significantly exceeds the amount of gold. Overflow of currency in circulation could lead to the worst-case scenario. In the face of a severe economic or geopolitical crisis, people start to become concerned about not being able to get their gold back. This prompts them to try to withdraw their gold from the banks. Since the amount of gold is limited, its price will soar until all the issued currency can be exchanged for gold. For example, let’s suppose the government initially issued 100 dollars for 100 bars of gold; at this time, one bar is worth one dollar. Over time, the amount of dollars in circulation rises to 5,000. If a total of 5,000 dollars needs to be exchanged for the same 100 bars of gold, the price of one bar of gold will soar to 50 dollars. Conversely, the value of each dollar will plunge, becoming mere scraps of paper. While the scenario might sound improbable, history tells us that the value of currency always falls—and when it plunges, humankind always goes back to gold. For example, gold prices jumped by 50. 6% between September 2010 and September 2011, as people sought safety after the Great Recession in 2008. The latest example is the rise in gold prices post-COVID-19. As governments lowered interest rates and provided large amounts of stimulus checks to boost the economy, there was a post-COVID inflation spike, reducing the value of currency. On top of this, unprecedented economic uncertainties and concerns about a potential recession caused a 27% rise in gold prices by the summer of 2020, compared to January of the same year. Even when there is no economic turmoil, we live in a world of constant inflation. This graph shows the change in the price of a $100 product over time, showing that the value of currency has been in a state of constant decline since 1971. What’s causing the surge in gold prices? Currently, gold prices are rising against the traditional formula: even though inflation is alleviated and the dollar is still strong, gold prices are on the rise. Wall Street is puzzled, but there may be an explanation. Investor expectations could be driving this phenomenon, as the Federal Reserve is expected to cut its interest rate in September. Since lowered interest rates lead to an increased amount of dollars in circulation, investors are expecting inflation. Historically, during periods when the interest rate was too low to cover the effects of high inflation, people turned to gold as a hedge. Also, a popular belief is that gold prices have an inverse relationship with interest rates. Gold is denominated in dollars, so in times of inflation when the dollar is weaker, gold seems cheaper and more attractive for buyers using non-dollar currencies. This pulls gold demand higher, leading to a surge in gold prices. Since gold investment provides no interest rate or dividend, while higher interest rates make investments like bonds more attractive, lower interest rates bring down the opportunity cost of not having more of their money invested in bonds. However, interest rate cuts offer only a partial explanation of the current situation. We must note that central banks’ ongoing voracious appetite has increased the gold demand, pushing up gold prices. Central bank demand for gold in 2024 showed the strongest start to any year on record, showing that the demand will remain robust this year. Heightened geopolitical uncertainty is highlighted as the key to explaining the active gold rally of central banks to pile up gold as a safe haven. How is geopolitical turmoil influencing gold demand?First, geopolitical turmoil often disrupts global supply chains and financial markets. Since gold has historically maintained its value throughout various economic turmoils, central banks are trying to secure more gold. Currently, escalating tensions in the Middle East could disrupt oil supplies. Since oil prices are one of the major driving forces behind inflation, investors are motivated to invest in gold. Unlike currencies or stocks, gold retains value independently of any one country’s economic performance and government policies. For example, gold is not directly affected by interest rate decisions, corporate profitability, or economic sanctions. Currently, there is huge uncertainty over the global economy, with the consequences of the November U. S. presidential election still unknown. The Russo-Ukrainian War, possible conflict between China and the U. S. , and elections planned in more than 60 countries this year are all factors contributing to the heightened geopolitical uncertainty. The increasing uncertainty is driving central banks to seek refuge in gold as a safe haven. At the same time, central banks around the world are trying to diversify their foreign exchange reserves away from US dollars. Countries worldwide have been spooked by the U. S. ’s use of the dollar-based global financial system to punish Russia. Growing distrust towards the dollar has driven BRICS countries to reduce dollars and U. S. government bonds in foreign exchange reserves. In fact, nine of the top ten central banks that have recently purchased the most gold are countries challenging the dollar hegemony, most notably Russia, India, and China. Many consider de-dollarization impossible, but the dollar is a currency that depends entirely on the world’s “trust” and “faith. ” If the distrust spreads to even more countries, the world may start questioning the stability of the dollar system. Is it the right time to invest in gold? And is it okay for Korea to ignore gold investment? While Chinese and American Gen Z investors are “gold rushing,” Korean Gen Z investors are too focused on financial assets like stocks. However, it is basic investment knowledge that financial assets like stocks or bonds, and real assets like gold alternate in their heyday over a certain period. When everyone invests in stocks, a “stock market bubble” occurs, which means that the stocks are traded at a price that greatly exceeds the asset’s intrinsic value. This is followed by a quick decrease in value, which is referred to as a “bubble burst. ” Historically, the heyday of gold starts right when a bubble burst happens, and it lasts until people migrate back to stocks. Historically, the rise in gold price typically lasts for about 10 years and is called a “supercycle”. As all signs indicate that a supercycle already started in 2019, gold price is most likely to rise until 2029. This means that we are in the middle of the cycle, and can anticipate a greater rise ahead. This is why Korean Gen Zs should also consider portfolio diversification, which is to combine investments that are not closely correlated with one another. Properly diversified investors would combine financial asset investments with gold, a safe asset, to reduce risk. Gold—unlike stocks, bonds, or bitcoin—takes up physical space in the form of jewelry, bars, and coins. Storing gold might seem burdensome and old-fashioned as it takes up too much space. However, in times when you cannot trust assets that exist digitally or virtually, you just might wish you had saved some room for gold. Young Korean investors are not the only odd ones out in this gold rush because Korea’s central bank, Bank of Korea (BOK), is not very different. Gold reserves of Korea have remained unchanged since BOK bought 90 tons in 2011-2013. Earlier this year, the bank officially announced that they have no plans to increase their gold reserves. Korean gold reserves are already very low. While Korea is the 13th largest economy in the world by GDP and the world’s ninth largest holder of foreign reserves, its gold reserves are only the 36th largest among global central banks, according to the WGC. Gold makes up only 1. 7% of Korean foreign exchange reserves. BOK’s position is in stark contrast to other countries worldwide, who are thinking on their feet to try to secure enough gold, which will ultimately be a country’s last resort to safeguard against economic and geopolitical crises. Is it really okay for BOK to ignore gold reserves? Should there be a global crisis, Korea will not, by any means, be immune to it. Therefore, BOK should consider jumping on the gold bandwagon. It is time for the Korean government and investors to diversify their asset portfolios. Otherwise, Korea will risk too much. Although the price of gold may not skyrocket in the short run, it has always maintained its value over the long term and is useful as a hedge. If you view investment as a lifetime game and not just a one-time gamble, gold investment is a game you will never lose.