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A Kyopo’s quest to find their place in the world
Lee Chan-woo
Kyopo: The Spocks and Clark Kents All Around Us Think 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 Kyopos face on a day-to-day basis, especially those who currently live in Korea. Although Kyopos look very much like your typical Korean, they actually come from completely different cultural backgrounds. Just like Clark Kent, Kyopos often deal with loneliness as they try to fit into the largely homogenous Korean society. Our Bretheren from Overseas Who 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 Kyopos 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 Kyopo As 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 utilising 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 behaviour. 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” (동포), meaning “brethren,” to emphasise the close connections among various overseas groups, even though “Kyopo” is still the more colloquially used and instantly recognisable term. Lowering the Entry Barrier for Kyopo It 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 westernised 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 recognising. 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. ""
Save some SPACE for gold
Lee Seo-jin
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.
Overcrowding in prisons: The overlooked dilemma of contemporary Korean society
Kim Suk-hee
In November 2017, the television series Prison Playbook took South Korea by storm. The series displayed various aspects of life in prison, ranging from the reformation programs to the punishments and the restrictions set on the prisoners. The show gained its fame mainly due to the balance between the depiction of various crimes that exist in modern society and the characters’ personal growth. The show illustrates prison as a facility that allows prisoners to reflect on their crimes and reform through human interactions in a hospitable but controlled environment. While the show does reflect the ideal role of a prison, it fails to depict a key problem that prisons face today in Korea: overcrowding. Why Does Overcrowding Matter? According to the Human Rights Peace research facility, the number of prisoners incarcerated has been on the rise ever since the beginning of the Yoon administration. As of September 2023, there are 58,583 prisoners nationwide. Based on the increasing number of prisoners the government is incarcerating, this number is predicted to rise to around 60,000 by the end of 2024. That would be the highest since 1998, when the number of prisoners peaked at a record high of over 67,000. During this time, Korea was going through the 1997 Asian financial crisis, forcing the Korean market to restructure itself to create more flexibility and overcome the crisis with the help of the International Monetary Fund. In the process, a lot of criminals saw new opportunities in the field of economic crime and acted upon them. As the nation made a quick recovery from the financial crisis, it also witnessed a sudden rise in criminals being captured. Unlike the rise of prisoners in 1998, the increase right now did not happen due to a single huge incident. The current administration has made it clear that it will have a “zero tolerance” policy towards criminals and that they’d try their best to make the country as crime-free as possible. With the government working to meet the goal it has set for itself, the rise in the number of prisoners itself is not surprising. The problem is that the current prison facilities seem to be unable to keep up with the growth. Currently, South Korea has a total of 55 operational prisons. Of the 55 prisons, 42 were reported to be “heavily overcrowded” as of 2023. When combined, these prisons are designed to hold around 49,600 prisoners—far less than the last reported number. This means that prisons are holding about 18% more people than their intended capacity, forcing the prisoners to live in heavily confined spaces. So, exactly how confined are the living spaces in these prisons? According to the Korean Ministry of Justice, the current standard of living space provided for a prisoner is set at 2.58 square meters. This is already a very compact space for someone to live in, especially compared to the value set by other global organizations. For example, the International Committee of the Red Cross recommends 5.40 square meters as the minimum space required for a prisoner to live humanely. While it is true that this number is not completely applicable to Korean prisons specifically, the fact that the Korean standard is less than half of what the Red Cross recommends shows the serious lack of living area in Korean prisons. Worse, even this cramped living space is not being provided in most prisons. An investigation made by the National Human Rights Commission in January 2022 revealed that many prisons had their inmates live in areas as tight as 1.40 square meters, which is a little over half of the minimum living space set by the Ministry of Justice. A follow-up investigation made in early 2024 showed that living conditions in many prisons are still yet to be improved. The overcrowding situation has even resulted in the National Human Rights Commission claiming that the current living conditions of prisons such as the Sangju Prison in Gyeongsangbuk-do Sangju infringe on the inmates' human dignity, publicly requesting the Ministry of Justice to fix this problem. Besides the physical discomfort that comes with it, being forced to live in close quarters can also lead prisoners to face extreme mental stress. One might claim that the mental stress that the inmates go through is both intentional and insignificant, given that the reason they are incarcerated in the first place is to be punished for their individual crimes. However, one must also not forget that another major purpose of prisons is to rehabilitate convicts into law-abiding citizens. To help these criminals reform, prisons offer a wide variety of programs and work to give their inmates chances to reflect on their past actions. However, these attempts at reformation end up being ineffective if the inmates are unable to fully concentrate on the programs, and the subpar living standards are a huge reason that they cannot concentrate. Inmates tend to feel more stressed, and suffer from severe mental and physical pain if they are forced into a cramped confined living space after a taxing day of work and education. There have been lawsuits in the past where the inmates demanded the government to provide financial compensation for the pain they suffered from the overcrowding. While these claims were dismissed in the past, the overcrowding has escalated to the point that the court is beginning to recognize it as a serious problem. In July 2022, the court stated for the first time in history that the overcrowding and the confined living spaces infringe on the prisoners’ basic rights, ruling that the government should provide compensation. A similar lawsuit that concluded in November 2023 also ruled in favor of the inmates, forcing the government to pay out a compensation fee of 136 million Korean Won to 50 ex-cons. Building New Prisons So, what is the best way to fix the overcrowding problem? The simple yet effective answer to this question is to build new prisons. The government is fully aware of this potential solution, which is why it currently plans to build six new prisons. Once these facilities are built, it would technically resolve the issue of overcrowding, allowing the prisons to fully function as correctional facilities. However, there is a big obstacle to the construction of new prisons: the strong backlash by communities. Currently, prisons are commonly viewed as NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard) facilities by a large majority of society. These facilities are essential for society, yet they cause many people to worry about the various negative impacts that could lead to social conflict. Hence, while people are not opposed to the concept of building new prisons, they are generally against the idea of having one built in their own communities. They are not only hesitant about having new prisons near them but are also aggressive at times. There are communities even today that are actively raising their voices to oppose these establishments in their neighborhoods. For example, the government is planning on building a women’s correctional institution in Gyeonggi-do Hwaseong that will open in 2026. As there is currently only one operational women’s prison in Korea, currently located in Chungcheongbuk-do Cheongju, the construction of a new facility in Hwaseong would significantly help with the overcrowding issue. However, the local community has been strongly combatting the construction ever since 2021, and their opposition still persists. The main reason for the resistance is the possibility of the neighborhood gaining a bad reputation. While they do recognize the importance of NIMBY facilities, people fear that having these facilities in the neighborhood could cause social tension. When unsolved, the tension negatively impacts the neighborhood’s overall image, damaging the financial values of various assets. People’s negative impression of prisons have existed for a long time, making it very hard to change, and this only solidifies people’s resistance against prisons in their neighborhoods. Currently, the most effective method of improving prison’s predominantly negative image is building related facilities alongside prisons, creating small “legal communities” within the pre-existing communities. A prime example of this is the Munjeong Legal Town located in Songpa-gu, Seoul. In this town, there are various legal facilities as well as educational centers and restaurants located alongside the Eastern Detention Center of Seoul. Towns like these allow prisons to blend in with the rest of the community, naturally planting the impression that prisons are no longer NIMBY facilities in people’s minds. Thus, when executed well, legal towns like these can help improve the predominantly negative image people have regarding correctional facilities. No More Stalling Prison overcrowding is a problem that has gone by relatively unnoticed for years, but resolving it cannot be put off any longer. The longer this issue is left unattended, the bigger the negative impact it will have on society. The simplest solution to this would be to build new prisons, as it would ultimately help with the effectiveness of the correctional programs for rehabilitating the inmates. While the benefits of new prisons are clear, the predominant impression people have towards prisons is a huge obstacle that must be addressed. There is no easy way to gain people’s approval for new prisons, but for the prisons to operate functionally, gaining the community’s support is something that must be ensured. Ultimately, it is the government’s responsibility to create an environment where the new prison can coexist with the preexisting community.
The high costs of living in Korea: How young adults afford their space to live
Jeong Yoon-ah
Having a place to live is a fundamental part of our well-being and happiness. Over the past few years, South Korea has been facing housing problems, as the supply of houses does not meet the demand―a strange phenomenon, as Korea’s population rate is actually declining year by year. According to Statistics Korea, the housing supply rate in 2022 was lowest in large cities such as Seoul(93.7%) and Incheon(97.9%), and highest in rural Gyeongbuk(113.2%) and Jeonnam(112.4%). Considering that Seoul has the highest population density in the country, the index especially indicates the hardships of satisfying housing demands in urban areas. Diminishing housing supply and rising prices can be explained by multiple reasons, such as the government’s real estate policies, increase in single-person households, slowdowns in real estate markets and so on. The housing problem mostly affects people in their 20s and 30s, most of whom live in large cities and have only very recently earned a job. These new members of the workforce population are struggling to stand on their own feet and find a place to live due to financial difficulties and the slow pace of housing supplies. With hardships in real estate markets during the pandemic, people have generally struggled with financial burdens as living expenses have risen. Accordingly, the South Korean government has been trying to address the issue by implementing easier loaning systems, expanding public housing, and lifting property and construction-related regulations in Seoul. However, the effectiveness of such policies can be questioned in the long term, as they do not address the root cause. In fact, the housing crisis stems from much more fundamental issues, such as young adults’ financial difficulties and unstable lives. Thus, government actions and policies need a more serious approach to this underlying issue, as it is the primary step towards a better environment for young generations in our society. In order to help young adults in the housing market, it is necessary to first look at the overall quality of their lives. Korea’s continuously declining population and low birth rates seem paradoxical at first, given the shortage in housing supply. However, this can easily be explained by the fact that, in spite of the population crisis, the number of single-person households across the country has risen dramatically, which has resulted in over-demand and under-supply of houses. In the case of Seoul, the population decline was outnumbered by an astounding 39.3% rise in single-person households in 2022 compared to that of 2015. Most single-person households in Korean society consist of people under the age of 29, who generally have lower incomes compared to older populations. Many have also moved to the cities from more rural areas to find employment. Yet, although there are more job opportunities in the cities, the labor market is still highly competitive and does not guarantee a stable living. In this case, the main factor causing people to live alone comes from the high expenses in central cities, which comes down to financial issues. The average monthly rent of a single-household in Seoul appears to be 630,000 KRW, which takes up about 35% of the average salary of a young adult. The financial burden young adults undergo from this high rental fee is much heavier, followed by food and transportation costs. There are also other significant reasons as to why the housing problem should be taken more seriously, as it is the cause of a variety of social issues. Not being able to afford a house has resulted in many people becoming a “kangaroo tribe,” a term referring to young adults who have failed to grow financially independent from their parents. A government survey from 2024 covering 15,000 households across the country showed that 57.5% of young adults live with their parents, followed by 22.6% living as single-units, and only 6% being young married couples. Members of the “kangaroo tribe” lack a stable, independent socio-economic base. Hence, they cannot afford a house or create a new family, which stagnates economic growth in the long term. 67.7% of those still living with their parents responded negatively to the idea of finding a house of their own on account of economic reasons. In addition, house poverty among young adults is one of the most crucial phenomena that can explain the low marriage rates and declining birth rates in Korea. Expensive housing in the city and the heavy loans necessary to afford them entail excess financial burdens to pay off the debt, which causes young adults to stray from marriage and childbirth. Research conducted in April this year by the Presidential Committee on Ageing Society and Population Policy revealed that just 61% of 2,011 people aged 25-49 plan to get married in the future. Meanwhile, those who were negative about marriage suggested that they would be open to reconsideration if housing and living conditions improved. These opinions prove that Korean society urgently needs more institutional development to satisfy housing demands, alongside ways to handle low marriage rates and the demographic crisis simultaneously. Yet, clearly, not every Korean is homeless or out on the streets. How do they manage to secure their living space? A keyword for Korea’s new housing trend is sharing. Co-living, which is inspired by a similar trend in European countries, is causing a transition in Korea’s housing market. Departing from the extended family culture of the past, Korea has now moved on to a more compact and atomized type of household unit while retaining privacy and independence. The imbalance in housing demand and supply in urban areas alongside the demographic cliff crisis are the central factors behind this cultural shift. Launched in Hongdae in 2023, NOUDIT is a new branded housing model that represents a more flexible flow of thinking that housing is something to consume rather than to own. It reflects people’s changing values and lifestyles as the working space, living room, and entertainment are all combined into one. The brand plans to expand its business across other parts of Seoul to introduce this new narrative way of living. Meanwhile, cities are also providing public housing for young adults along with government subsidies according to each income level. The Seoul Metropolitan Government has presented an upcoming 2024 model for the increasing number of single-person households, aiming towards a sustainable co-existing environment. Public housing projects like this provide a living space with facilities such as a kitchen, laundry room, gym, and leisure spaces that are open to share with other residents. With this model, citizens can afford a unit with only 50-70% of the current average monthly rent of studio units in the city. The government plans to supply them for up to 6 years for people aged 19-34, and 10 years for the middle-aged and seniors. Introduced in February 2024, Seoul’s goal through this policy is to integrate a total of around 2,500 households into this project by the end of the year. This newly adopted model is particularly enticing for young adults, as it provides the many luxuries of living in the city such as proximity to train stations at a much cheaper price, whilst simultaneously allowing the much-needed privacy of an independent unit. As in the cases above, Seoul has been implementing various kinds of public housing for the past few years, but the question still lies in the effectiveness of its results for young adults in reality. Even setting aside the high application rates and competition, many are actually giving up the chance even if they do get it because they cannot pay the deposit required to move in. Although rental fees may be cheaper, public houses demand higher deposits than the average studio unit, which means that they do not solve the financial issues one has to face. Many have also pointed out that some problems come from the system itself. Young adults who have experiences residing in public housing express dissatisfaction with facility management and faulty constructions conducted by private companies. The government virtually acts as a supplier while private companies are in charge of the real management. As such, despite expectations, there appears to be no real benefit to these public housing projects for young adults. The idea of “sharing” does take off some of the financial burden without having to own a house in the first place. However, these dwellings are ultimately temporary ways to support people until they are fully capable of being financially independent. The housing crisis causes a considerable number of young adults to feel alienated from society. Being able to afford a space to live is significant to young adults because it is an indicator of the financial capability one has in society and is the first step one takes in being independent. Accordingly, young adults call for a more stable and promising future, which should be proposed as the government’s main objective. Rather than just focusing on increasing public housing, there needs to be a systematic approach that can help young adults ultimately become financially independent. Moreover, the quality of public housing can be improved by the government’s tight cooperation with private companies to refine inconveniences for further development. Some of the government’s housing policies presented at the beginning of the year include allowing reconstruction in parts of Seoul and tax benefits when buying a house, which is expected to boost the supply. These implementations would also work to remedy other social concerns such as unemployment and low marriage rates. Despite the perks of metropolitan areas, where high quality of life and infrastructure is more easily accessible, the problem of low housing supply continues to plague them and their residents. Getting married, having a child, and stabilizing their lives have become a sort of luxury in these dire times of the housing crisis, especially when compared to the past. Yet, young adults should not be deprived of their freedom due to this issue and its social and financial constraints. Hence, building an active support system in our society is essential for young adults―the successors of Korea’s economy—as they navigate this unstable stage of life.
Korea’s forgotten community — The overseas Chinese in Korea
Wei Chen Low
South Korea’s rapid modernization and progressive transition into a globalized country has led to a greater inflow of immigrant groups in the past few decades. Among these immigrant communities residing in Korea, there is a community that is worth attention as they have been residing in this nation for more than a century and comprise an important part of Korea’s modern history. However, their existence and story are gradually receding from people’s memories under the inevitable torrent of time. Today, we unveil the story of the Overseas Chinese. When it comes to the Chinese community in South Korea, popular menu items like jjajangmyeon , tangsuyuk, and jjamppong, commonly seen in local Korean-Chinese restaurants, will first come to mind. Today, these long-time favorite dishes are undoubtedly a part of Korean culture. The early Chinese communities who brought in these dishes are known as the Old Overseas Chinese (OOC). This community differs from the new Chinese communities that emerged after the opening of the Chinese mainland under Communist rule a few decades ago. Most of us are familiar with the new wave of Chinese food such as malatang, tanghulu, and the lamb skewer. This group of new Chinese immigrants where Korean-Chinese are the majority is then called the New Overseas Chinese (NOC). Despite the intrinsic differences in their backgrounds and national identities, many remain unaware of their distinctions. According to Chang, secretary of the Seoul Chinese Residents Association, one of the largest OOC associations in Korea, many young Koreans now do not recognize the difference between the OOC and the NOC; instead, they are both treated universally as just Chinese, despite their distinct origins. The OCC community moved to the Korean peninsula during the late 19th century and around the mid-20th century due to the political turmoil and wars that engulfed China. Many of the Chinese were forced to leave their homelands, especially in response to the Chinese Civil War right after the end of the Second World War. Although the OOC had moved to the Korean peninsula from China for a more peaceful life, they found themselves suffering from several events that challenged their survival. For instance, in 1931, the Wanpaoshan Incident, a minor dispute between Korean and Chinese farmers during the Japanese colonization, was falsely reported to the public, stimulating anti-Chinese riots that injured and killed many of the OOC. Additionally, the implementation of the Foreigners’ Land Act in 1961 which significantly affected the OOC’s possession of lands in Korea, caused many to convert their realty business to Chinese cuisine restaurants. Moreover, the OOC have been facing plights concerning their national identity. This originated from the Chinese Civil War between the Nationalist Party (or officially, the Republic of China or simply the ROC) and the Chinese Communist Party. The former later managed to retain Taiwan and a few islands along the Chinese mainland while the latter established a new regime, the People’s of Republic of China in 1949. This is the major cause of the current split across the Taiwan Strait. As the OOC immigrated to South Korea in the very early days, or during the period of wartime, most of them still retain the passport and national identity of the ROC. It is not difficult to understand the awkward situation of the OOC, especially regarding which nationality of Chinese they are supposed to align themselves with, and this has only deepened after the South Korean government established official diplomatic relations with the PRC in 1992. The recent tension that has been forming between the people of South Korea and the new wave of Chinese from the mainland also intensified the already-complicated status of the OOC. This can be observed from a live YouTube broadcast of a public hearing held in May 2021, regarding the partial amendments of the Nationality Law, where one of the panelists came from the Chinese Residents Association. When the panelist was giving his speech, sinophobic comments like “just go back to China,” and “you must have received much money from China,” or simply comments that condemn the association’s name bombarded the stream. This shows that the public, especially these particular individuals, may be unaware of the difference between the two Chinese communities. This means that regardless of the political alignments of the OOC, they are viewed as a monolith and simply reduced to Chinese foreigners. The challenges do not come merely from their situation in Korea itself, but also from their motherland, the ROC or Taiwan. As the OOC community is mostly based in Korea, they do not have a typical Taiwanese household registration, which means their Taiwanese passport does not hold the same visa benefits as those residing in Taiwan. According to the law back in Taiwan, those who hold this kind of passport are required to apply for an entry permit in advance to enter Taiwan. In contrast, Korean citizens can visit Taiwan without a visa. This has caused a lot of inconvenience for the OOC community when it comes to the visa benefits of the Taiwanese passport and disadvantages for those who need to travel overseas, especially for work. Consequently, OOC job prospects in Korea are negatively affected. These collective issues eventually led to the further shrinkage of the community. Based on the information shared by Chang, there are only around 14,000 OOC currently residing in Korea with the ROC nationality. The ramifications of this change are that it has become more difficult to maintain OOC primary and secondary schools as the enrollment of students has decreased significantly. Chang said that this is an inevitable trend that the community cannot avoid. When asked about the current situation of the OOC, especially the younger generations, he also remarked that the naturalization process for OOC in Korea is becoming easier and that many of the youngsters have decided to pick up Korean citizenship rather than that of the ROC. At the same time, the social status of the younger generation OOC is improving compared to the previous generations, as those who choose to get naturalized have no issues with assimilating into the local Korean society. The hardships encountered by the OOC community can potentially be considered as a remnant of the past, as the younger generation is generally living in a much-improved environment. Nevertheless, understanding the story of the OOC is still valuable, as remembering and acknowledging past experiences and struggles is the basis for respecting the rights of smaller immigrant communities. Instead of only viewing the OOC as foreigners, it might be better to acknowledge their century-long contribution to Korean society. Perhaps, the next time you savor a bowl of jjajangmyeon, take a moment to slow down and consider that it is not merely a simple bowl of noodles. Instead, it represents the unique legacy of the OOC in Korea, highlighting how well they have integrated into the culture and community over time.
Sharenting: Are parents protecting or imperiling children?
Baek Ji-min
Last year, Korean actress Lee Si-young shared photos of her trip to Busan with her son on social media. She posted pictures of her going swimming and walking along the beach with her son. However, one particular photo that revealed the back of her son standing on the terrace without clothes attracted attention. Netizens who came across the image expressed concerns, urging her to remove the photo. Consequently, she decided to take down the post, sparking a broader discussion on the potential pitfalls of “sharenting,” where sharing positive moments with children on social media could inadvertently upset or harm them. Sharenting, a portmanteau of the words “sharing” and “parenting,” refers to the act of parents sharing photos and videos of their children on social media, such as Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok. The rise of technology, especially social media, made recording and sharing easier for parents. As social media enabled parents to share their parenting experiences, it brought a new wave of parenting culture—the sharenting syndrome. In 2013, an article in The Guardian first coined this terminology, describing it as a common phenomenon on social media. We can easily notice that there are thousands of posts of children on Instagram with hashtags including #baby, #motherlove, and #sweetheart. Sharenting is not limited to social media creators or influencers. Like baby stars who have thousands and millions of followers, the growth of children within sharenting could be watched and tracked by anyone on social media. Newborn babies have their images uploaded to social media within an hour of their existence. The everyday life of a child, such as trips to the zoo, holidays, and school performances is displayed and shared online. According to a study by Parent Zone, conducted on behalf of Nominet, which polled 2000 people, 92 percent of infants have parents sharing nearly 1200 images of their child by their fifth birthday. Social media has effectively become the modern-day child photo album. Parents post their children’s pictures on social media because they can easily upload photos, earn information, and get emotional support. As parenting requires lots of information and advice, sharenting is a great source for parents and gives them a feeling of camaraderie as they nurture their children. Parents comment on each other, share information, and give advice about children-caring, worries, etc.. They can alleviate the feeling of social alienation due to child-rearing by communicating with fellow parents. Parents try to share the achievements of their children not only to communicate with others, but also to be supported and validated through the comments. Furthermore, parents share the moments of their children to document their growth, creating a timeline of the child to look back on. However, sharenting does not happen in that idealistic and positive way. The oversharing debate has raged on for a long time, especially when it comes to children. As parents share every moment and detail of their child’s life including toddler tantrums, bed-wetting problems, and awkward teen moments, these posts become “oversharenting.” Sharing photos on social media is far more public, which means there is no control over the images. The act of uploading a child’s photo could lead to more profound and even dangerous ramifications. The photos or videos shared online differ from those which are found in homes or casually placed in photo albums. The audience for these images extends beyond family, close relatives, or friends, rapidly expanding as they circulate online. Parents have numerous social media followers or viewers who they have never met before, unintentionally exposing children's pictures and videos to potential abusers online, including data brokers, hackers, and pedophiles. Parents have no way of knowing how far children’s pictures or videos can go and how they are used. According to the reports by the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, half of the child sexual abuse photos were first posted by parents on social media. This summer in July 2023, Deutsche Telecom, one of the telecom companies in Germany, raised awareness for responsible handling of photos and data with a social experiment “A Message from Ella (fictional character)” for the campaign “ShareWithCare.” Through one photo shared online by Ella’s parents, researchers showed that it could create an adult deep fake model of 9-year-old Ella even with the voice of the adult Ella exquisitely incarnated by the videos. The researchers send out a warning that sharenting, considering the latest technologies, could leave children vulnerable to identity theft and fraud crimes. Concerns about the impact of children's privacy are being raised, as they can be exposed to serious crimes such as identity fraud through the parents’ actions. Experts from Barclays predicted that by 2030, two-thirds of identity theft cases will involve sharenting. Sharenting posts such as photos, videos, and captions lead to a high possibility of identifying a child’s home, frequent location, or any disclosure of essential information that could pose potential risks. A study conducted by Security ORG revealed that more than 80% of parents use their children’s real names when sharing pictures on social media. Cybercriminals can readily parse photos, figure out information, and steal the child’s identity. In the long term, digital content could leave permanent digital footprints of children. From the moment it is shared, anything posted online is almost impossible to completely erase, because anyone can access and disseminate the source. According to Futurism, by the age of two, more than 80 percent of children have digital footprints. Possible risks of digital footprints could involve online harassment and cyberbullying. Parents might have posted photos of children when they were little, but the photos can pop up later on, which leads to troll comments, criticism, bullying, and stalking. What parents share about their children online could leave potentially dangerous digital footprints that follow them for the rest of their lives. Every child has a right to make their own decisions for their images posted online. With sharenting, children do not have control over what their parents are posting or what descriptive words their parents are adding to the photos or videos. It would be important for the parent to ask for their children’s consent if they are old enough to understand social media and its ramifications. For instance, Gwyneth Paltrow posted a selfie of herself and her fourteen-year-old daughter Apple Martin on Instagram, one day in 2019. In the photo, Paltrow is smiling proudly and Apple is wearing a ski helmet with her face largely covered with goggles. Only Apple’s mouth could be seen in the selfie. After the post was uploaded, more than 150,000 people liked the picture. But Apple didn’t seem to like this post; she commented on this post, showing great discontent publicly. “Mom, we have discussed this. You may not post anything without my consent.” Her mother replied, “You can’t even see your face!” Apple publicly criticized and reprimanded her mother for posting her picture. The Oscar-winning actress had upset her child by not asking for permission. Children who are younger than Apple often have no voice to speak out against the images posted by their parents. Parents should be more careful about the pervasive nature of social media and be aware of uploading anything that contains true information, like real names, birthdays, and places they frequent. Instead, they should use nicknames or other descriptive phrases. Some countries have legal systems that provide children the right to their own images. Recently, the French parliament introduced strict laws, which means parents could face fines and even jail sentences if they post photos that violate children’s privacy. According to a statement from the Personal Information Protection Commission made in April 2023, people under 24 in South Korea now have the option to delete digital information created when they were minors. With the aid of the government, concrete steps to address sharenting concerns could provide support for children, assuring their “right to erasure” or “right to be forgotten.” There is still considerable complexity surrounding children's rights to online privacy and the parental role in sharing within that context. Parents, as guardians of their children, are regarded as gatekeepers of their kids' information, including matters of cybersecurity. They are the primary figures children rely on and trust the most. Parents are best positioned to determine whether certain information can be shared or not. While children may not always agree with their parents' decisions, in many cases, they may be too young to express their own thoughts and feelings. Since children are not technically allowed to join social media services until they are 13, their lives are shared through a parent's account or through their own account created by their parents. Parents are responsible for protecting and managing the digital footprint of their children. They must be careful, as sharenting can lead to unconscious, undefined consequences for the child. Communicating and trying their best to understand the voices of children is important for parents. Recently, Mark Zuckerberg, the CEO of Meta, used emojis to cover his children’s faces. As such, rearranging privacy settings and using blurry faces or emojis, could also be considered as a means to protect children’s privacy. Another example of parents who chose to protect their child’s privacy in the midst of sharenting is the Korean YouTube duo Real Couple. Over the years, these parents had regularly shared videos capturing their baby's precious moments, presenting a seemingly positive side of sharenting by spreading joy to their subscribers. The father even noted that engaging in sharenting had motivated him to become a better parent, prompting him to step out of his comfort zone and partake in diverse outdoor activities with his child. However, the couple recently revealed their decision to discontinue their channel. They noticed that their baby had become aware of the camera and began altering her behavior consciously. Out of concern that sharenting would negatively affect the child, the parents made the protective decision to stop sharing frequent videos of her life. While there may not be a perfect solution, the increasing social interest in sharenting could create an online co-parenting community, displaying the sentiment of the proverb “It takes a village to raise a child.” This means that parents, friends, neighbors, and even local communities could work together for one child’s well-rounded growth, especially in the online realm, where their collective vigilance could safeguard the child. In the ever-evolving environment of social media, where anyone can access posted photos, parents could protect each other’s children from potential danger through mutual monitoring like the platform users did for Lee Si-young. As sharenting arises as a pressing issue, and as the first generation of children grown within the Web 2.0 social media era currently reach their pre-teen years, ongoing social discussions will be essential. Initiatives such as the “ShareWithCare” social campaigns would help raise awareness of the issue, and governmental support such as education could help parents set their own appropriate parameters. All in all, sharenting itself may not be a bad thing. Instead, it could be understood as proof that parents desire to share the joy they feel as their lives unfold with their children. With collaborative efforts, a balance could be reached, both maintaining the benefits of sharenting and protecting our beloved children.
The Korean demographic cliff: a pressing danger
Kim Ji-woo
In a world where fertility rates are declining, Korea finds itself at the forefront of this unsettling trend. The phenomenon, initially observed in Europe in the 1980s, has been extending its reach to East Asia since the 2010s. Among East Asian nations — namely Korea, Japan, and China — Korea has the distinction of having the lowest fertility rate, reaching a startling 0.7 last year. This is even lower than China, which has enforced a strict one-child policy, and Japan, renowned for being the most aged society globally. Then, how, and why is this happening in Korea? Why is its demographic cliff a problem? Let’s take a further look. To comprehend the gravity of the issue, it is essential to grasp the concept of fertility rate. Two primary statistical indices measure the number of births in a country: the crude birth rate, also known as the birth rate, and the total fertility rate. The crude birth rate is calculated by dividing the number of live births in a year by the midyear resident population. On the other hand, the total fertility rate, as defined by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), refers to the total number of children that would be born to each woman, if she were to live to the end of her childbearing years and give birth to children in alignment with the prevailing age-specific fertility. Figures such as 0.8 or 1.2, which are oftentimes cited when highlighting the severity of the demographic crisis, typically refer to the total fertility rate. In order to maintain a stable population, the birth rate should ideally be at least two children per woman. If Korea's birth rate continues to hover at 0.78, its population will diminish to two-fifths of its current size within three decades. More surprisingly, just within a century (or three generations), a group of 100 Koreans will shrink to six. The population composition will skew dramatically toward the elderly, with only 10 percent being children. The burden of supporting the elderly, who are projected to make up 60 percent of the population, will fall on the working population, who will only make up 30 percent of the entire population. This will lead the median age to rise to 59. Still, some people think a demographic cliff is a value-neutral situation, a consequence of people exercising their free will. Others even contend that the decline in human population can have a positive impact on the environment. However, at least in the short term — within the next 50 years — a low birth rate presents a crisis to most nations. In modern nations, young people contribute to most of the workforce. The welfare system of a nation allows the elderly to receive pensions from the tax that the younger generations pay. If the birth rate remains at its current level, the tax income will dwindle, which will lead to the collapse of the welfare system. The problem increases in severity as considerable losses to the state treasury will ultimately bring about state bankruptcy in countries all over the world, even in the richest countries. If a low birth rate is so detrimental to our society, what triggers it? A demographic cliff happens when people do not get married or when married couples choose to not have kids. In Korea, the overall birth rate has plummeted by 50 percent in the past five years. According to Statistics Korea, this nosedive is mirrored in the percentage of married couples as it also decreased by 50 percent, while the percentage of people having children has dropped by a mere five percent in the past 10 years. One-child families have only increased by five percent during the same period. Therefore, to figure out the causes of the demographic cliff, we should first focus on the reasons why people are not getting married, and then move on to why married couples are having fewer kids compared to the past, considering their contribution to the overall fertility rate. To start with, youth unemployment and the exorbitant cost of housing make it increasingly difficult for young people to consider marriage. A 2022 research from Duo, the biggest matchmaking company in Korea, indicated that the average Korean pays approximately 287 million won ($215,000) to get married, with more than 80% accounting for housing. This is excessively high compared to the average income of Korean youth, which stands at 2.54 million won per month for those aged between 25 and 29 and 3.06 million won per month for those aged between 30 and 34 in 2022, according to Statistics Korea. Taking these figures into account, for a couple to accumulate 287 million won, each of them would have to work for at least seven years. Difficulties in balancing work and family life can also impede many from choosing marriage — specifically for women. As explained by Professor Goldin of Harvard University, in pre-modern societies, women were simultaneously compelled to work and perform household chores. However, with modernization, women’s roles have shifted as they were labeled housewives. This new concept liberated women from double labor, rendering them only responsible for domestic chores. Unfortunately, the sexual division of labor deprived women of freedom of occupation, deriving other controversies. Nowadays, women are working again, but the social expectations for women to work still linger. The 2023 Nobel Economics Prize-winning book by Goldin emphasizes that this social atmosphere explains the gender wage gap, as it discourages women from participating in high-paying jobs, so-called “greedy jobs,” which demand more intense work. The tradeoff relationship between economic presence and housework poses a dilemma to women who want to continue their careers, inducing many to delay marriage. In East Asian countries, such as Korea and Japan, the modern division of labor still exists as the labor force participation rate shows an average 25 percent difference between men and women aged 30 to 50. Moreover, in terms of the gender wage gap, women in these countries do not only elect to participate in low-paying jobs but are also structurally forced to do so. To be more specific, women are marginalized in the job market as corporate culture and employment practices prevent them from continuing to work. Since most companies in Korea and Japan do not provide paternity leave, women who experience marriage and delivery fall behind by roughly two years in terms of salary. As their salary lags behind due to maternity leave, women are suggested to retire and concentrate on handling household chores and raising children. In a study about career breaks of women by Oi and Matsuura, almost no women in East Asian countries can return to their original positions after career interruption. Instead, half of them remain at home for the rest of their life, while the other half, considering financial constraints, re-enter the workforce in less-paying jobs as temporary employees after several years of working as housewives. Difficulties in maintaining coexistence between work and family make marriage an unappealing choice for those who hope to maintain their career. Furthermore, the incredibly competitive educational atmosphere and the resultant high child-rearing costs dissuade many from expanding their families. Korea is notorious for its competitive education system, and the youth suicide rate in Korea is the highest among OECD countries. This is why a good number of individuals express concerns about their children growing up in this stressful society, and decide not to have children so that misery would not repeat itself. Similarly, for parents who do choose to have children, surviving this competitive society has become one of the most important tasks. Therefore, parents often prioritize providing better quality education and opportunities for one child, rather than having more children. So, how can this crisis be solved? Potential countermeasures are being explored. To begin with, countries can try to create new workplaces, fight youth unemployment, increase the influx of cheaper houses, and implement policies to change corporate culture. In particular, guaranteeing economic stability of individuals by providing a solid job with a decent employee welfare system can be a key. For instance, consider Lotte, where the fertility rate of employees is 2, approximately three times higher than Korea’s fertility rate. Lotte made parental leave mandatory for all its employees, regardless of their gender. This policy reduced the incentive for women to retire semi-permanently and become homemakers since every employee in the company shares the 2-year career disadvantage. As more female employees stably return to their previous positions after a career break, the opportunity cost of marriage and childbirth fairly decreases, leading to higher fertility rates. Additionally, the implementation of new policies, such as immigration policies and life partnership acts, and revisions on existing laws including the Mother and Child Health Act can also serve as potential solutions. In Europe, despite having fertility rates not significantly different from that of Northeast Asia, the substantial influx of immigrants helps maintain a stable overall working population. Conversely, in Korea, the myth of homogeneity excludes other ethnic groups from being a part of the society. Furthermore, during the Joseon dynasty, couples were required to get married if they had children out of wedlock. As this traditional Confucian family norm still exerts its influence on Korean society, the average unmarried fertility rate for Korea is 2%, which is notably lower than the EU’s 41%. Acknowledging and recognizing diverse forms of family by establishing their legal presence and providing welfare support can be one way to raise the fertility rate, as it did in European countries. Countries around the world are striving to increase their birth rates, and numerous countermeasures are being considered. Although there are still areas for agreements regarding the resolutions, it is time for us to find and implement them to this worldwide predicament. Despite the demographic cliff being a looming crisis, the effect of falling off the cliff is revealed only after decades. We should bear in mind that we are the ones who live in this country — who undergo the adverse effects of a dramatic decline in fertility rate. Our future lies in our hands. Before it gets out of control, we, the youth, should be on the alert and must collectively work toward a breakthrough.
The downfall of teachers’ authority
Lee Seo-jin
The death of a 23-year-old Seoi Elementary School teacher in July 2023 sparked thousands of teachers across South Korea to demand proper protection of teachers’ rights. It also alerted Korean citizens to truly realize the decline of teachers’ authority. The elementary school teacher reportedly took her own life after expressing anxiety over complaints from abusive parents. After one student scratched another student’s forehead with a pencil during class, some parents had started to contact her through her private phone number to complain, reported the Financial News. The downfall of teachers’ authority in Korea is not a new problem. The fact that so many teachers could easily sympathize with the reasons behind the death shows that they all have experienced similar struggles, including malicious complaints and overuse of legal accusations from parents. The problem has been neglected for too long and the recent death of the teacher was a sign that the collapse of teachers’ authority has reached its boiling point. While several legal revisions led by the government are in process, important challenges to fully restore teachers’ authority still lie ahead, which are not restricted to legal solutions. In this article, the possible causes and solutions for the decline of teachers’ authority will be discussed. A Distorted Love The cause of the collapse of teachers’ authority is found in the parents. According to a survey done by the Korean Federation of Teachers’ Association (KFTA), 99 percent of teachers agreed that “teachers are emotional workers.” When asked who gave them the most stress, 66.1 percent of respondents selected “parents.” This overwhelms the other answers -- students (25.3 percent), principals and vice-principals (2.9 percent), and educational administrative agencies/the National Assembly (2.5 percent). Thus, it is essential to analyze the prevalent motivation and sentiment of Korean parents in modern society. According to Professor Chung Jae-jun of Sungkyunkwan University, the new generation of parents in Korea thinks of their children as “princes and princesses” who should be adored, cared for, and praised. The instances of parents’ complaints are truly astonishing. For instance, some parents demand teachers to go on a field trip once again because their kid does not stand out in the picture. These kinds of parents are commonly called gapjil parents. Gapjil is a Korean neologism referring to an arrogant and authoritarian attitude or actions of people who have positions of power over others. Long Term Causes One of the common explanations for this blind love for children is the low birth rate in Korea, especially since the 2010s, leading to an increasing number of families having only one or two children in Korea. Thus, parents are more prone to live a child-centered life, and they have begun to coddle their children excessively. They cannot accept any criticism towards their children, and cannot stand any chance for them to be emotionally hurt or dispirited. The collapse of public education followed by the great development of private education is also indicated as a fundamental cause of the fall of teachers’ social status. In the past, teachers had absolute authority regarding curriculum education (handing over knowledge) or guidance of university entrance. Naturally, parents respected teachers’ authority regarding character education and guidance. However, as the private education market has greatly expanded, countless private educational institutions and internet lectures by famous teachers substituted or surpassed public education. The school has long become more of a place to complete compulsory education. As a result, parents are less dependent on school teachers, limiting teachers’ influence. However, the reasons stated above are insufficient to fully explain the distorted love of parents. Alongside these social changes, legal changes have brought about the current environment in which complaints and lawsuits are common in schools. Disempowered Educators Since when did parents think of legal methods to confront teachers? Legal issues, especially the enactment of ‘The Students Human Rights Ordinance,’ were critical in affecting parents’ decisions. The ordinance was first enacted in 2010 by a progressive superintendent of education from Gyeonggi Province and has since been enforced by seven regional education offices, including that of Seoul. While banning corporal punishment had a level of positive influence on protecting students’ rights, class discipline has been broken down since the ordinance disempowered the teachers’ right to guide students using adequate methods. Teachers could not stop the student who physically attacked teachers or bullied other students since the ordinance forbids all kinds of physical intervention and immediate discipline, even including non-physical guidance. Teachers could not take away cell phones even if the student was severely interrupting the class according to “freedom of privacy,” and could not wake students up during class due to the “right to play and rest.” Teachers could not freely compliment students in public since it was deemed as “discrimination” against the other students. The ordinance has also profoundly influenced parents’ way of thinking, leading parents as a whole group to gapjil—only they do not perceive it as gapjil. They believe that they are just demanding due rights, which are protected and justified institutionally. The ordinance, promoted by progressive superintendents, is strongly driven by a political agenda of protecting the weak. The collective group of children and students was identified as the weak and the group of teachers as the oppressor, neglecting the fact that children can also potentially be agents of violence. This has led to a biased ordinance that neglects teachers’ rights. Moreover, abstract and inadequate laws such as The Child Welfare Act have functioned as tools that enable parents to practice their distorted perceptions of protecting children’s rights. The Child Welfare Act, passed in 2014, dictates that teachers accused of child abuse must be automatically suspended. Thus, teachers frequently suffer from parents who maliciously report teachers for child abuse to see them removed from their jobs. Also, the law includes highly abstract terms such as “emotional abuse against a child that may injure his/her mental health and development”(Article 17-5), which can be interpreted arbitrarily. In fact, restraining a violent child is frequently labeled as child abuse and emotional abuse. For example, according to the BBC, one teacher was reported for emotional abuse for taking reward stickers away from a boy who cut his classmates with scissors. Another teacher was sued for child abuse for asking a disruptive pupil to take five minutes in the bathroom to reflect on his behavior. Parents’ malicious complaints are the main factor that distresses teachers. According to the survey by KFTA mentioned above, the highest-voted reason for mourning the Seoi elementary school teacher was “for system improvement regarding malicious complaints and indiscriminate reports for child abuse.” According to the survey implemented by the National Union of Teachers that surveyed 2390 elementary school teachers in Korea, 49 percent answered that they “experienced malicious complaints from parents.” They also feel “extremely disempowered,” as they are fearful of being called “child abusers,” and thus unable to safely discipline their students. Currently, the Ministry of Education is rapidly providing revisions and enactments of laws and regulations since the death of the Seoi elementary school teacher. The first main effort to protect teachers’ rights is the Teacher Rights Restoration Bill. Among four revised laws, the revised Teacher’s Status Act prohibits the removal of teachers from a position only because child abuse is reported, and requires further investigation and evidence. The revised Elementary and Secondary Education Act stipulates that teachers’ legitimate guidance is not child abuse. Also, by implementing “student guidance notification,” teachers are given more authority to guide students. For example, they can guide students who sleep during class. Unlike before, when teachers could restrain or separate students only after the process of “advice, counsel and warning,” teachers can “immediately” restrain students verbally if they violate school rules, and in urgent cases (for example, causing threat to others’ lives and bodies), teachers can immediately restrain the students “physically.” Teachers can also remove students who disturb the class to a designated place, and if in need, the principal can request parents to take the student home. While the efforts stated above are significant, more legislative tasks need to be completed. According to a KFTA survey of 5461 teachers in Korea regarding the effects of the new legislations stated above, many of them answered that they are still anxious about indiscriminate complaints by parents as well as accusations of child abuse. Thus, abstract concepts like “emotional abuse” in The Child Welfare Act must be clarified. In fact, 99.4 percent of teachers in the survey agreed that the law must be revised to exempt legitimate guidance from the threat of “child abuse” and 99.6 percent agreed on strengthening punishment for parents who abused complaints if teachers are proven innocent. Restoring Rights Thus, to fundamentally improve teachers’ authority, it is necessary to restore the authority of the school as the place for educating students to grow as a “whole person.” Teachers should be empowered to be able to genuinely educate students. The classroom should regain its essence—to provide a place for students to admit their mistakes, take responsibility for their own actions, and be polite to authority figures and peers. This is why the legal efforts stated above are so essential, to enable teachers to guide their students. Along with legal efforts, a fundamental change of perception is needed. The death of the Seoi elementary school teacher has enabled the turning point for parents, students, teachers, and citizens to look back on their previous perceptions and reflect on the true meaning of the “rights” and “responsibilities” of each school member. It makes no sense to think dichotomously, separating students’ rights from teachers’ rights, because students and teachers are not in a zero-sum game. Accepting guidance and respecting teachers’ authority is not incompatible with protecting students’ rights and freedom. The parents must realize that students cannot be happy in a classroom where teachers are distressed.
Malicious Trademark Squatting: A Growing Threat to Brands and Businesses
Oh Ju-yi
BTS, Pengsoo, Girls' Generation, and Youngtak Makgeolli. These are all brands that the public is familiar with. But these are also well-known trademarks that have been unlawfully seized by others. This kind of problem, malicious trademark squatting, in which individuals preemptively register someone else's business name or brand and demand a ransom, is a serious issue. So, what exactly is trademark squatting? A trademark serves as a distinguishing mark for products and services, setting them apart from those offered by competitors. A trademark can take the form of numbers, words, phrases, logos, or even a combination of these elements. You have the option to officially register a trademark under trademark law, and registering a trademark is a crucial method of safeguarding your brand, and offering a higher level of assurance. However, some individuals overlook the importance of trademark registration and continue to use their trademarks without officially registering them. But if such a person achieves success and their trademark becomes well-known, what happens if someone else registers that trademark? This situation is referred to as trademark squatting. To be exact, according to the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO), trademark squatting is a practice in trademark law where an individual or entity registers a trademark that is identical or similar to an established trademark, with the intention of profiting from the reputation and goodwill associated with the established trademark. In another case, trademark squatting occurs when a brand registers its trademark in its home country and possibly in a few other select countries, neglecting to seek protection in every possible jurisdiction. Trademark squatters identify that the brand does not have a registered trademark in a specific jurisdiction, and they proceed to file for the trademark in that location. This practice persists because trademarks are jurisdiction-specific rights, and brand owners must seek registration in each individual jurisdiction in which they wish to be protected. For instance, the United States Patent and Trademark Office can only protect trademarks registered within the United States. Trademark squatting can have negative consequences for both businesses and consumers. When someone who engages in trademark squatting registers a trademark that closely resembles an established one, it can cause confusion among consumers and damage the reputation and trust associated with the established trademark. Moreover, trademark squatting can obstruct legitimate businesses from using their own trademarks in specific regions or markets, potentially leading to expensive and protracted legal disputes to regain ownership of the trademark. Over the past 10 years, cases of trademark squatting have become more and more widespread in South Korea. According to a research titled, “The Limitation of Claims for Damages and Infringement Prevention by Trademark Owners,” conducted by the Korean Intellectual Property Office on 5 October 2022, the annual number of suspected malicious trademark squatting applications between 2015 and 2019 was at about 343 cases. Of these, the actual number of registrations averaged 89 per year, with around 26% of suspected malicious trademark squatting applications being registered as actual trademarks. According to statistics from the Korean Intellectual Property Office (as of 2020), there were 67 individuals suspected of malicious trademark squatting who collectively applied for 23,802 trademarks, averaging 355 trademarks per person. Such actions appear in various forms, ranging from character names, like Pengsoo, to celebrity names, television show titles, YouTube channel names, and restaurant names. For example, the Educational Broadcasting System (EBS) filed a trademark registration application on Pengsoo on 20 November, 2019, but a third party applied for trademarks related to internet broadcasting, stationery, and toys under the names Pengsoo and Giant Pengsoo on 13 November, 2019, a week earlier than EBS. A dispute ensued, ultimately resulting in the third party relinquishing their trademark rights. In another case, an individual applied for a trademark on Girls’ Generation for over 2,000 products, shortly after the idol group Girls' Generation debuted in 2007. This led to public controversy and the application was ultimately invalidated due to a legal challenge by SM Entertainment, the agency representing Girls' Generation. Furthermore, some individuals have cleverly mimicked both domestically and internationally famous trademarks in their applications. They filed trademarks like Hermes Water, ShoppingMall.com, and Daum Kakao by either closely imitating existing trademarks or making slight variations. This practice exploits the current trademark law's "first-to-file" system, which allows the first applicant to secure registration rights, not the “first user.” As a result, individuals take advantage of this system to file applications first, knowing that the famous trademarks of others are not yet registered, intending to later profit from these trademarks through extortion. To prevent this, the Korean Intellectual Property Office (KIPO) has been actively monitoring and maintaining a list of suspected malicious trademark squatters, and strengthening its review of applications that are suspected of trademark infringements in order to address malicious trademark squatting.
To leave or not to leave: the dilemma of the Russian commercial exodus
Lee Ji-woo
Early morning, on 24 Feb. 2022, I woke up in my dorm room in the main building of Moscow State University to unbelievable news: Russia had invaded Ukraine, and my host-country was now at war. Unlike Kyiv, Moscow and its inhabitants were not in immediate danger, but the news of war alone was enough to deeply disturb the Russian population—especially the younger generation, the majority of whom did not support the actions of Vladimir Putin’s regime. A steady stream of outward movement soon began to form. As of May 2023, as many as 1 million Russians are estimated to have fled since the onset of war. This phenomenon is now being referred to as the “Russian Exodus,” as an unprecedented number of people continue to leave the politically tyrannical country, having lost hope for its future. Powerful foreign enterprises also decided to join the crowd flocking out of Russia, making this a commercial exodus as well as a political one. With even Russian citizens choosing to depart from the country, the answer seemed clear for non-Russians: leave. In the early stages, panic was the main factor that drove the expats out, as it was unclear how fast, and to what extent the conflict would escalate. Several governments, including those of France, Ireland and Japan, hastened to evacuate their citizens. I stayed put, as the Korean embassy did not issue a statement requiring citizens to return home. The Korean government took measures to update its citizens on how to act in case of immediate danger, and created an emergency contact list to keep track of the number and whereabouts of their citizens that remained in the country. This gave me a sense of security and helped me make the final decision to stay, in order to improve my aptitude in the Russian language by immersing myself in Russia’s unique culture. Naturally, this also meant I would be experiencing firsthand the consequences of the war reflected in everyday life. Soon after the first wave of panic had blown over, another exodus befell the Russians: this time in the commercial sector. Numerous western enterprises announced their grand exit from the Russian market as a sign of support towards Ukraine. Most foreign brands across many different sectors released statements condemning Russia’s actions, and subsequently promised to cut ties with the country. This movement was met with international praise; to the Russians, however, this was quite a blow. Western brands and services permeate every aspect of our globalized society, and prior to the war, Russia was no exception. I found myself facing problems in the most unexpected places. I wanted to buy a shoe rack, but IKEA had been shut down. I wanted to go on a trip, but SkyScanner, Airbnb, and Booking.com had halted operations in Russia. I wanted some soft drinks to go with my food, but my options were “Cool Cola” instead of Coca-Cola, “Street” instead of Sprite, or “Fancy” instead of Fanta - Russia was only left with copycat versions of original brands. The exodus prompted a rush to stock up on Western products whilst they were still available. In response to the nationwide closure of McDonald’s, some people sold Big Macs on Russian e-commerce platforms for more than ten times their original price. Many Russians frantically lined up in front of stores in hopes of buying one more item from brands exiting the country. I was one of those people, standing in line outside Japanese clothing store Uniqlo an hour before it closed down for good. I didn’t need anything in particular, but the news of the shutdown triggered a strange feeling that I had to buy something before I couldn’t anymore. The mall was packed with people; evidently, I wasn’t the only one with this idea. By the end of March, Western stores officially closed their shutters, and the central section of the mall they previously occupied was now deserted. GUM—Moscow’s symbolic department store on the Red Square – tried to keep up appearances by leaving the lights on in closed high-end stores, but there was no denying that it had lost its main purpose as a shopping center. Media outlets worldwide captured this scene to highlight the exodus’ effect on Russia. However, from what I observed throughout the rest of the year, this was certainly not the end of the story. While the world was busy tending to other more pressing issues, some stores that had closed slowly started re-opening; some under the same name, many others under a different one. It is now clear that the number of companies that have cut ties with Russia is not as large as was previously perceived. As it happens, many businesses have technically exited the country but still continue to have a presence in, and gain revenue from, the Russian market. With Russia’s military actions still raging a year after the war’s initial outbreak, and without an end in sight, businesses are being made to take a stand on how strongly they will put their foot down—whether or not they will keep the doors open in case the situation improves in the future. As such, Western businesses in Russia seem to have chosen one of three paths since the war: 1) sell the company to a Russian buyer and/or end all future business with the country; 2) stay silent and remain in Russia; or 3) sell the company but still keep one foot in the market through parallel exports. Many food retailers fall under the first category, as it is relatively easier for food chains to find alternative suppliers to keep their businesses up and running. Consequently, these Western companies were quickly replaced by Russian substitutes: McDonald’s became Vkusno i tochka—meaning “Tasty and that’s it”—sporting a new abstract logo that is supposed to depict a hamburger and two french fries, making up the letter ‘M’. The new logo, however, undoubtedly brings to mind the two golden arches of McDonald’s. The move seems intentional, as the company selected a slogan that translates to: “our name is changing, but our love stays the same.” Similarly, Starbucks became Stars Coffee; the new owners, rapper Timati and restaurateur Anton Pinskiy, decided to keep Starbuck’s iconic siren intact, except for the Russian head ornament they opted for instead of the original star-topped crown. The two companies that are widely considered to be the symbol of Western influence have now been turned into Russian-owned analogues that make no effort to hide their origins. On the contrary, they utilize both logo and name to send a blatant message that there have been no changes. However, that is not necessarily the case, according to a Russian student who wished to stay anonymous. “The situation is funny if you look at it from afar. [These companies] are trying their hardest to show that they are the same as before, when in reality, everything is different—they are copies of the original brands. There are not many convenient fast-food places that can take McDonald’s’ place, so I go to Vkusno i tochka sometimes. As for Stars Coffee, there are many excellent substitutes based in Russia, so I don’t go there at all,” she commented. Other enterprises have decided to stay, either by force or by choice; Burger King and Marks & Spencer, which had already been operating in Russia via franchising, were unable to close their shops as their franchising partners refused to do so. Moreover, prominent Russian allies like Turkey, China and the United Arab Emirates are still doing business in Russia as normal. The third category, which concerns companies remaining in Russia, but only through parallel imports, lies in a legally gray area. Shortly after a wave of sanctions were implemented by countries that condemned Russia, the Russian State Duma—the lower house of the Russian parliament—introduced a law legalizing parallel imports. This meant that Russian businesses would now be allowed to import Western products via a third-party country, bypassing restrictions. This can result in already discontinued products making their way back into the Russian market without the original manufacturer’s consent. Such was the case with Coca-Cola. Although they had already halted production in Russia, the world-renowned soft drink was still found on supermarket shelves, having been imported from countries keeping non-hostile relations with Russia including Iran, Turkey, and Kazakhstan. Other companies are hiring middlemen who essentially help them continue their business in Russia. For instance, Polish apparel company LPP S.A., which owns a number of different brands, sold its assets to a Chinese company, who has changed the names of the stores (Reserved → RE, Sinsay → SIN, Mohito → M). Unlike H&M and Uniqlo, who temporarily re-opened stores in Russia only to sell off their remaining stock, these newly re-opened stores carry the brands’ newest collections, signifying that the company is still indirectly doing business in the country. From this perspective, the “Russian Exodus” poses some challenging questions. Is the gesture to close the companies enough to show support towards Ukraine, or should companies cut ties with the country completely for their intentions to be considered valid? On the other hand, should a business’ action of staying in the country be considered a show of support for Russia? As an exchange student who could have left but decided to stay, these were thoughts that were not alien to me. I personally did not agree with Russia’s actions in any shape or form, but I did have something to gain from the country as a student majoring in Russian Language. The moral dilemma and guilt stayed with me until the end of my exchange period. My reason for choosing not to leave lay in nothing other than achieving my personal goals. It seems my guilt largely stems from the fact that I stayed, when the majority of people around me were leaving. The constant news of my peers departing made it seem like I should also have done so. Such was the case with businesses, but the choice appeared considerably more obligatory. As the exodus quickly spread, it seemingly morphed into a binding social contract. If companies were seen not to leave, they would be condemned by people keeping a close eye on the situation; a site called “#LeaveRussia” was created for this very purpose. As such, foreign enterprises were cornered into halting operations as soon as possible. Some companies managed not to look back. Others, however, were not as lucky. Many things are at stake in this complicated dynamic. On the one hand, companies risk major financial loss by exiting, losing out on potential profits they could have gained from the market. They also have to face obstacles placed by the Russian government, which is trying to prevent companies from pulling out. On the other hand, these companies subject themselves to major criticism from customers and shareholders by staying, which can also lead to monetary setbacks in the future. Balancing economic and social costs, enterprises are navigating a very delicate situation; take one wrong step and they will find themselves in hot water. Discourse around the commercial exodus seems to have been focused on condemning the fact that businesses are gaining revenue from the Russian market. In reality, however, staying does not ultimately guarantee profit; remaining in Russia can be the cause of bad PR and thus consequent potential financial setbacks in the long run. Companies have a hefty price to pay either way. What it all boils down to is this: when I made the decision to stay, I was operating on a thought process of maximizing gain. My choice was made by comparing the benefits of staying versus those of leaving. However, companies’ operation strategies were most likely centered around minimizing loss. As opposed to seeing the war as an opportunity to gain profit, they were most likely just trying to find a method to stay afloat amidst the turmoil with minimum damage. Neither one of these decisions had underlying political motives; rather, it can be seen as an attempt to carry on with life despite the unrest. The exodus is not over, and unfortunately, neither is the war. As there is no right answer when tackling the complex issues that stems from this conflict, no one solution can satisfy everyone. Nonetheless, before passing judgment, it must be understood that the situation is very nuanced. With uncertainty hanging in the air, all we can do is confront the challenges in the best way we see fit.