The Dark Side of International Student Admissions by Korean Universities
South Korea’s low fertility rate is a phenomenon familiar to many high-income countries worldwide. One significant area that a nation’s lower fertility rate impacts is its higher education system. In Korea, declining birth rates have led to a considerable drop in the school-age population, leaving five out of ten universities in non-urban areas (referred to as “local universities” in the Korean language) in 2025 unable to fill even 50% of their enrollment quotas. This threatens the long-term survival of these local universities, and their potential closure is sure to harm the local communities, causing further regional decline. For these universities to survive, they must look into ways of maximizing student enrollment, such as through the admission of international students. According to the Bureau of Statistics, in June 2024, visas issued to international students entering Korea increased by 14. 6% compared to the previous year, bringing the total number of foreign nationals with student visas to over 200,000. With expectations that this trend will continue, a few questions come to mind. Are Korean universities and the government well-prepared to welcome these international students and provide them with adequate resources and support? Does the job market have enough demand to digest this amount of Korean-educated international graduates?Data from Daehak Alrimi (대학알리미) shows that the dropout rate of international students increased from 6. 28% in 2020 to 8. 59% in 2022. Several reasons are attributed to this phenomenon, namely, an inability to adapt on campus on an academic or communicative level, and a lack of support services and fair treatment by universities towards international students. In 2024, there was a case involving Hanshin University where 22 international students were intimidated by the university into leaving Korea, when they still had time left on their visas. Though this is the most extreme of cases, it does reveal the vulnerable position that international students can assume in Korea. Other issues include serious xenophobia and racism. Back in 2021, a notice was made by the Mungyeong City local government regarding a campaign to match Vietnamese international students with single Korean men from rural areas, sparking huge controversy. Moreover, international students in Korea often face significant challenges as they work to fund their education and living expenses. While some may argue that students should prioritize their studies over employment, it is difficult to fault international students for dedicating significant time and effort to work, given the higher cost of living in Korea. As of 2025, South Korea ranks 26th out of 139 countries in terms of its cost of living. In contrast, the primary demographic of international students—Vietnamese, Chinese, and Mongolian—come from countries that rank in the hundreds. Living expenses cost far more in Korea than back home, and a majority of students have no choice but to juggle work and study to sustain themselves. Moreover, according to research conducted by the Chungbuk Women Foundation, in 2018, 62. 7% of international students were shouldering more than half of their tuition costs themselves. Meanwhile, the current regulation on working hours also poses a significant obstacle for these international students. The current limit on working hours ranges from 10 to 35 hours, depending on one’s Korean proficiency and academic level. A fried chicken stall owner shared with Dong-A Ilbo that, based on the current regulation, international student part-timers are only allowed to work 2 to 5 hours a day. That would mean that he would need to hire two to three international students to work a day of shifts, making the hiring of these students undesirable from a business standpoint. Consequently, the economic burden of studying abroad, combined with the strict limit on working hours pushes many to work illegally beyond permitted hours, leaving them more vulnerable to labor exploitation. Financial hardships and obstacles in employment often persist when international students leave school. Limited employment opportunities and job security contribute to the growing number of those overstaying their visas. Among students who enter Korea on a D-2-1 student visa to study a two-year college program, nearly 30% overstay their visas, while the rate of D-2-2 visa holders studying for an undergraduate degree nears 10%. As a whole, according to the Ministry of Justice, the ratio of illegal stay is on the rise, with the figures of those who remain illegally in Korea after graduation being around 20% in 2023, a 47. 7% increase compared to just three years prior. Combined with the employment rate of international students remaining below 10%, many are more vulnerable to accepting lower wages and other forms of labor exploitation as they look for secure employment. The issue is not negligible. Korea’s low fertility rate is not a short-term issue, and the steady decline of Korean students attending university is inevitable. This means that increasing the enrollment of international students is a must for the survival of many universities, particularly local institutions. However, the burden of adaptation should not fall only on the shoulders of international students; it should be a shared responsibility involving universities, the government, and society as a whole. A more inclusive and welcoming Korea will attract more foreign talents and encourage them to meaningfully contribute to the nation and beyond, fulfilling the core purpose of education. For this to happen, specific efforts must be made, including improving on-campus conditions for international students, revising restrictive working hour limits, and providing greater financial support to those in need. These steps will not only better the international student experience but also help foster a more inclusive, forward-looking society.
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.
