The AI Race, Diplomacy, and Do We Really Need to Care?
“Koreans are not just the early adopters of ChatGPT, but they are also shaping how it is used across the world,” Jason Kwon, OpenAI’s chief strategy officer, remarked. This comment was made in Kwon’s interview with Yonhap News on the establishment of an OpenAI subsidiary in Korea. Certainly, it is only natural that a country with the second-largest number of paid ChatGPT subscribers is the next target in OpenAI’s plans to branch out. I myself pay $20 per month for a ChatGPT Plus account, and I don't think I have gone a day without using it to check for errors in my coding assignments or to do quick research. Since the launch of ChatGPT in 2022, we have seen generative AI evolve at incredible speeds. According to the Ministry of Science and ICT, in 2024, 60. 3% of internet users in Korea now use AI services. It is clear that generative AIs are here to stay. In that sense, the race for global AI dominance between countries does not come as a surprise. PwC estimates that AI will contribute over $15 trillion to global GDP figures by 2030, effectively meaning that governance over the AI market equates to power over the general flow of technology and trade. The release of the generative AI chatbot DeepSeek-R1 model by the Chinese AI company DeepSeek was thus an alarming wake-up call for the US government and AI giants. The Chinese startup had created a model that mirrored the capabilities of US ones despite US export restrictions on high-end semiconductors, believed to be central to AI development. It became clear that US trade bans were simply not enough to maintain a competitive edge. Certainly, DeepSeek-R1 challenged US hegemony by opening the possibility for low-income states to pursue their own AI research and application agendas through a non-US alternative. The competition has intensified. Increasingly, both countries are pursuing policy enterprises centered around securing and exporting their AI models. At no point has AI diplomacy been as crucial as it is now. But what does this all mean for us ordinary users of AI? Why should we care about who is behind the technology we use?Turns out that the effects of AI diplomacy can be quite intrusive on our daily lives, and the dangers it poses are quite terrifying. Feeding and Getting Fed: The dangers of generative AIMany analysts have compared soft-power diplomacy and competition for AI dominance to the Cold War arms race. The eagerness of the Chinese and US governments to pitch their models abroad does indeed bear a resemblance to the rush to establish strong nuclear bases across the world in the 1960s. The differences, however, are what make the AI race more alarming. Whereas during the 20th-century Cold War, most, if not all, understood the nuclear arms race as a perilous war for weapons of mass destruction, what is unsettling about the AI race is that nobody really thinks about generative AI models as weapons. Despite casual mentions of privacy concerns and the surface-level fear of AI tools “listening in” on us, AI is typically viewed in a positive light by its day-to-day users. We are vaguely aware of its potential issues, but not fully conscious of what they entail. Yet, this lack of clear recognition that AI is a weapon is essentially what makes users unknowing participants in the AI arms race. It is precisely what makes AI diplomacy insidious: countries are able to present AI models as simple productivity tools in order to export them to foreign populations, thereby creating a network of data collection that makes the technology more powerful. Regardless of whether users are using privatized American systems or state-sponsored Chinese ones, every time they interact with an AI model, they give it new information for it to retrain itself. If the 9. 6 million inhabitants of Seoul interact with it once a day every day, that is still 3. 504 billion new pieces of information. Such a quantity is probably more than enough for an AI model to learn the values, antiques, and current or future threats of a community. Considering the current capabilities of AI and the pace at which it’s developing, it isn’t hard to imagine a scenario where such data is weaponized by governments and fed into an AI military device. AI diplomacy is thus dangerous because it makes use of day-to-day technology and creates situations where foreign populations unconsciously supply systems with power. An image generated using Gemini from the prompt “ChatGPT spoon-feeding people info”The dangers of AI diplomacy don’t only concern users spoon-feeding AI models information. Have you ever thought about what information your AI model is feeding you? When DeepSeek-R1 was first launched, users were quick to discover that the Chinese model refuses to comment on topics considered taboo by the Chinese government, namely the Tiananmen Square massacre and Uyghur Muslims. When asked about Taiwan, it responds with the well-known government narrative: “Taiwan is an inalienable part of China. ” Such self-censorship does not come as a surprise. However, we need to think of its broader implications. With AI diplomacy, China and the US are trying to integrate their AI models into state infrastructure abroad. The most pressing concern is that as foreign governments use these models in their key projects and public services, they are giving way to the subtle yet gradual assimilation of either US or Chinese socio-political values into their societies, as AI calculations inevitably encode the cultural and political values of their creators. The US and China are not unaware of this. OpenAI’s international expansion project and DeepSeek’s open-source nature are both stark displays of such efforts; as a Korean subsidiary of OpenAI is established and more Korean tech companies, such as Naver or Kakao, collaborate with OpenAI, Korean society may be more infused with US or Western political narratives. More so than we already are. This might not seem that imminent an issue. Don’t we just need to avoid asking AI questions on politics? But imagine you’re asking for a briefing of today’s news, and your AI tool covertly only gives you articles from specific predefined far-right sources. Or maybe you’re asking for some movie recommendations for your Chinese history project, and your AI tool only gives you films praising the CCP and its achievements. When considering these practices, DeepSeek comes to mind easily because we can distinctly imagine China’s centralized control system. These unnerving instances, however, are not absent even when the technology comes from Western democracies. Simply look back at the 2018 Cambridge Analytica-Facebook incident for reference. Ultimately, the threat of AI diplomacy is that no matter whose model you are using, the technology can and will feed you bias, giving its creators the power to manipulate public and private beliefs. At a societal level, this could shape how a community thinks, acts, and perhaps even governs. The AI race is about dominance over technology that is already deeply embedded and will have an increasingly large presence in everyday lives. What makes this especially sinister is the inherent opacity of the entire process. In many cases, we don’t even realize that we’ve become a part of this tech race, simply by using the AI tools available to us. So, where does that leave us? We can’t realistically live in an AI-free world when AI has become so intrinsic to our civic and state technologies, and it’s true that it has brought unprecedented progress in areas such as healthcare and research. However, when considering the insidious consequences of the AI race, blind acceptance is also not the answer. As a generation that actively uses AI, it’s imperative for us to remain cognizant of the threats of generative AI and how these tools can be used by foreign and state governments to influence our belief system. Enhance your media literacy. And in any case, use ChatGPT; try not to let ChatGPT use you.
Clean Futures, Messy Realities: AI and the Narrative Politics of SNU
Different actors hold different visions for the future of higher education. Some imagine more global campuses, others call for greater efficiency through technology, while still others push for inclusion, accessibility, and democratization. These visions often remain abstract, circulating in policy documents, reform plans, and statements, but rarely take shape in a way we can see or feel. What would a truly international university look like? What would happen if algorithmic systems determined every aspect of campus life? In an era where institutional futures are increasingly shaped by narrative competition, visualizing these futures becomes crucial. As Max Mundhenke, a German AI consultant, put it: “Using image generation is an attempt to reduce complexity, to offer a new, visual approach to politics, and to stimulate discussion about politics and the use of AI. ” Mundhenke has worked on translating German party manifestos into AI-generated cityscapes. The result is highly visual, yet disturbingly simplified. Each rendering reflects a clear narrative, but also shows how these narratives became unnaturally seamless when severed from reality. SNU, too, is increasingly shaped by narratives. From administrative reform to new digital platforms, actors are proposing, contesting, or opposing visions for how the university should change. What happens when we attempt to visualize a few of these visions? Institutional Mythos: The Emblem as a Fixed VisionThe university’s logo is a good place to start. In the middle, you see a pen, a torch, an open book, and the school gate symbol, all wrapped in a laurel wreath. The gate symbol is shaped like the Korean character ‘샤’, which combines the consonants ㄱ, ㅅ, and ㄷ—standing for 국립 (National), 서울 (Seoul), and 대학교 (University)—and resembles a key, symbolizing the “key to truth. ” Each part holds meaning: the laurel stands for academic honor, and the pen and torch show SNU’s dedication to lighting the way through knowledge. Our school’s motto Veritas Lux Mea, meaning “Truth is my light,” is written across the open book. It is an image of learning, wisdom, and dignity. A grand gate, students studying beneath a light shining down on them. Not too far from reality, but Gwanaksan is gone, and so are the daily struggles that make campus life real. Symbols like this don’t just show what a school values—they also set boundaries. They suggest that the university upholds one clear truth and path. When this emblem is turned into AI-generated images, the pictures rendered are of grand gates, marble pillars, students with books, and a light shining from above. These images feel more like a polished, official ideal than the real, sometimes messy life of the campus. A vision that’s honorable but possibly too simple. About Imported Structures: Whose System Is It Anyway?Back to its beginnings. SNU was founded in 1946 by merging Kyungsung Imperial University with ten public colleges under the U. S. Military Government. Although the aim was to create a new national university that would serve an independent Korea, early reforms were limited, and much of the colonial structure from Japanese occupation remained intact. After the Korean War, the American-led “Minnesota Project” restructured SNU’s system through the SNU Centralization Plan, introducing a thoroughly planned, modular, and centralized American-style campus model. Then in 1958, SNU architecture professor Yoon Chang-sup proposed a U. S. -inspired campus design based on postwar urban planning. Though initially rejected, his ideas shaped the final 1971 plan by the American firm DPUA. The result was a fused space, Korean in location, but American in logic. This marked a shift in Korean higher education: outdoor campus space became central. It became part of the university’s identity, shaping movement, behavior, and its students beyond lecture halls. AI turned this narrative into a traditional-style Korean campus, free from foreign influences. Paths connect the various departments and the people studying within them. At the main gate, now designed in a different style, the phrase Veritas Lux Mea is inscribed, not in Latin, but in Korean. Academically, SNU’s departments, evaluation methods, and degrees reflect this imported legacy, mixing American systems with Korean traditions. This creates tension: can SNU fully claim a Korean identity when its core structures are borrowed? What would the university look like if it broke away from these influences? One possible answer might be a university space shaped more by Korean cultural values, less divided by rigid departmental structures and more oriented toward shared spaces, collective learning, and cross-disciplinary exchange. Wayfinding and Who Gets LostThe architectural structure also extends to how people navigate the campus. Orientation is a part of the university’s narrative, one often designed not around lived experience, but around abstract structures. For international students, especially, this can mean entering a space that feels legible on paper but confusing in navigation. Inspired by this, Carlos Silva’s (2014) on “Wayfinding Design for Seoul National University Gwanak Campus” proposed transforming the campus map with a layered numbering system and multiple types of signboards (main, zone, college), reinforced by clearly designed street routes and aligned building panels. This would improve wayfinding speed by over 22%. A split campus: one side, rigid, grand, and the other, fragmented, multilingual, and open. Students from both halves meet in the center, but are a bit unsure whether to pass or to talk. Silva also suggested harmonizing nature and design: extending the Jahayeon Pond along main pedestrian routes to guide visitors visually and auditorily; planting recognizable pine groves and willow trees; and standardizing pathway widths and materials to create cohesive routes. These ideas should not only aid navigation but create a campus environment where everyone can find their way, literally and figuratively. Techno-Futures: Optimization as Destiny?Building on this vision of accessibility, SNU’s Office of Information Systems & Technology sees a smart campus powered by AI services and seamless platforms. Projects like SNU Genie personalize academic support using student data, while private 5G upgrades connectivity. Platforms for interdisciplinary research, AI plagiarism detection, and big data tracking aim to enhance academic integrity and innovation. When visualized by AI itself, these ideas produce pretty sleek images: drones, touchscreen desks, and VR headsets. But do such digital visions risk reducing the university experience to a tech-driven environment? How can efficiency coexist with the dynamic, lived realities of campus life?A sleek smart campus: glass buildings with LED strips, paths lighting up with each step, and drones gliding overhead. The data tower flashes “Veritas Lux Mea. ” But even with all the lights and technology, there are still a few trees that stand their ground. So why use AI in the first place?Visualizing these narratives with AI is not to predict the future, but to simulate what happens when one narrative dominates. Each image is powerful, but also too sterile. AI doesn’t render friction, only amplifies dreams, filling gaps with familiar tropes, including Western architecture, modernism, and digital utopianism. This isn’t just about technology. It’s about how narratives unconsciously reproduce dominant ideas under the guise of objectivity or progress. AI, in the way it generates images by combining and reinforcing existing data, becomes a symbol of tradition and repetition, the recycling of what already exists rather than true innovation. It shows how institutional decisions can unintentionally reinforce old hierarchies and entrenched patterns. When one narrative dominates, the resulting visual uniformity serves as a warning against universities adopting corporate or purely efficiency-driven models. SNU is not a brand or software product, but a living social space that thrives on disagreement and experimentation. The emblem declares, “Truth is my light,” but truth is not a fixed blueprint. It is a process. And the light of that torch shines brightest not when it is held by a single actor, be it a planner, a state body, or an algorithm, but when it’s passed around and shared collectively. The images generated are not visions. They are provocations intended to challenge assumptions and reveal how easily futures can seem fixed when they’re still open to change and negotiation. SNU’s future should not be rendered by AI, nor sealed in strategic brochures. It should be shaped by the students who protest, the professors who question, the designers who rethink space, and the outsiders who imagine something different. Truth may be our light, but it only shines when carried by many.
Looped in: Korea’s Knitting Culture Unraveled
What comes to mind when you think of knitting? Perhaps an image of your grandmother sitting in a rocking chair with needles and wool in hand. But this perception is quickly evolving. Once considered an outdated culture, knitting has become a widely embraced hobby among the younger generation in Korea today. From knitting cafes to cinemas, there are many places now where knitters can gather, share their projects, and enjoy their craft. What has sparked this change?The rise of knitting in Korea is closely related to the COVID-19 pandemic. With quarantines and other restrictions in place, people were forced to spend extended periods alone at home. In consequence, activities that required social interaction or travel declined in popularity, while “home hobbies” became the new norm. In this context, many, especially younger generations, developed an interest in handmade crafts. People sought ways to relieve their stress during such uncertain times, and crafting provided a calming, focused escape. Completing a project brought about a feeling of satisfaction and pride, while also being an outlet for creativity and self-expression. Knitting is one of these hobbies. Later on, as restrictions were lifted, the influence of the pandemic on people’s lives gradually decreased. Many returned to their lives before COVID, which naturally led them to quit their “home hobbies. ” However, unlike other hobbies, knitting has endured and grown even further in popularity. There are several explanations for this phenomenon. I think the most important factor is the role of social media and influencers. YouTube, in particular, has become a popular space for knitting-themed at-home vlogs, where people share their knitting projects and tutorials. Learning and honing one’s skills in the craft is more accessible than ever before. Moreover, hashtags like #knitting and #DIYhobby have helped build a strong online community where people can post their knitting projects, give advice and compliments, and share ideas. One prominent influencer in Korea’s knitting sphere is Daeri Kim, the daughter of the owner of BanulStory, a well-known brand among Korean knitters. Originally, mostly focused on the offline market, BanulStory has now expanded its reach online with Daeri Kim taking charge of its marketing. Through her social media presence, Kim attracts a younger customer base with beginner-friendly tutorials on simple designs. She not only teaches knitting but also shares more spontaneous content—knitting in different countries, making friends through knitting, interviewing other knitters, and telling fun anecdotes. The authenticity of Kim’s content highlights her warmth and humanity, leading people to feel more connected to her and fostering the growth of an engaged online community of knitters. However, what makes knitting culture particularly unique in Korea is the way that it has expanded to offline spaces. For example, there are many knitting cafes all around the country. Knitting cafes, true to their name, are spaces that combine the traditional cafe concept with knitting. Alongside coffee, tea, and desserts, visitors can also purchase yarns and knitting tools. Then, just like at any other cafe, people settle in comfortably and chat with friends—only they also knit while doing so. The presence of other knitters encourages everyone to talk freely with each other and share their current projects. One of the better-known knitting cafes in Korea is the BanulStory knitting cafe. The first floor sells yarns and tutorial DIY kits and also hosts classes for beginners. On the second floor, visitors can order food and beverages to knit in groups. A popular dessert there is button-shaped bread. There are also knitting cinemas in Korea where people can watch movies while knitting. In January 2025, CGV held a one-time knitting screening event. However, due to its immense popularity, CGV has decided to expand the event to be hosted every month in about 10 cinemas in Korea. Starting February 27, 2025, knitting screenings will take place on the final Thursday of each month. One participant reflected, “The fun has doubled with the creation of a space where people who share the same hobby can gather. ”As a knitter myself, I still remember the days when I was the only one among my peers who enjoyed the craft. Now, knitting cafes have become spaces where I can freely knit and connect with other knitters. During a visit to the BanulStory knitting cafe, I spent hours working on my projects while having tea and enjoying their signature button-shaped dessert. It was a joy to watch other knitters, each deeply immersed in their unique projects. Lately, even some of my friends have taken an interest and ask me for projects to start on as a beginner. Knitting is truly experiencing a revival as an ever-growing hobby among the younger generation. Thanks to social media, influencers, and offline spaces like cafes and cinemas, I’m excited to see it quickly become a meaningful part of contemporary culture and community.
