Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

A body believed to be that of Jang Mi-ran, a 37-year-old woman missing from Jeju Island since May, was found on Monday on a palm tree farm in Hallim-eup — a roughly 10-minute walk from the guesthouse where she was last seen. It had been 104 days since she disappeared. That she was found so close to where she vanished has intensified criticism that police squandered the golden time to find her alive. The officer assigned to her case falsely closed it the same day it was reported, fabricating a phone call to claim she was safe. The case has gripped the nation not because of the circumstances of her disappearance, but because of the institutional negligence that followed. The discovery has set off a fierce national reckoning over how police handle missing adults — arriving at a sensitive political moment, just weeks before prosecutors are stripped of their remaining investigative oversight powers, leaving police as the sole investigative authority for most crimes in Korea. Jang, a long-term guest at a pension in Hallim-eup, Jeju City, was last seen on security camera leaving the property alone around 10:15 p.m. on May 12, wearing slippers and carrying only her phone. Her boyfriend filed a missing-person report on May 15. Police searched near Hallim Port — about 1.5 kilometers (nearly 1 mile) from the pension — based on a reading of her phone's last known location, but called off the search after two and a half hours. That same day, Bu, 32, a deputy inspector on the Jeju Seobu Police Station's missing persons team, filed a report stating that he had spoken with Jang by phone, confirmed she was safe and then closed the case. Investigators later found no record of any call. To remove her file from the police's missing persons tracking system, Bu appears to have logged it under a code reserved for traffic accident deaths. Her phone stayed on with no further location changes or calls until it powered off, evidence police cited Wednesday in concluding that Jang most likely died in the early hours of May 13, hours after leaving the guesthouse. Jang's cousin, in Seoul, filed a new report at Nowon Police Station on July 19 after the family lost contact for two months. An officer initially questioned why she was reporting an adult's absence at all, remarking that not finding her could be "good news," and only took the report after she pleaded, in tears, she has told reporters. By the time the case reopened in July, most nearby security-camera footage that could have shown her route had already been automatically deleted under the standard 30-day retention rule. Police resumed the search but did not locate her for another month. A missing-person alert was not issued until Aug. 19, after the family had already begun publicizing her case themselves. Jang's body was found Monday on an unlit palm farm with no security cameras, an area residents say they avoid at night. It was significantly decomposed. Clothing matching what she wore when she left the pension, a phone and a gold bracelet were found with the remains. Police said Wednesday that a medical examiner's preliminary finding attributes her death to hanging. The state and position of the remains, along with that finding, point to a low likelihood of foul play. No note was found at the scene. Forensic work, including on her phone, is continuing. Her family says they are considering a state-liability lawsuit over how the case was handled. On Tuesday, the Jeju District Court granted an arrest warrant for Bu on charges of dereliction of duty, fabricating and using false official electronic records, and obstructing official duties through deception. Police say they first spotted irregularities in Bu's handling of the Jang case while searching for her in early August and formally opened a criminal case against him on Aug. 14. He was put under emergency arrest on Aug. 22 and briefly secured release after a court agreed his arrest hadn't met the legal threshold for an emergency detention — his...

Once driven largely by interest in K-pop and Korean dramas, the network is expanding its role as a platform for academic, career and business exchanges. HANGZHOU, China — In a modest but newly opened classroom in Hangzhou, China, rows of desks and whiteboards sit alongside displays of Korean culture, including colorful hanbok (traditional Korean dress) and musical instruments like janggu (double-headed drum). At the center of the room, a student listens intently as a passionate instructor introduces him to the Korean language and culture. The classroom may be small, but the curiosity behind it reflects a much broader phenomenon: As interest in Korea spreads through popular culture, more people are seeking ways to pursue academic and career-related opportunities and build connections between Korea and their own countries. Sheng Tianjia, a student in the pilot program at the Hangzhou King Sejong Institute ahead of its official opening, is learning Korean not only because of his interest in K-pop and dramas, but also because he sees the language as a gateway to deeper exchanges between Korea and China and to new academic and career opportunities. "I had only had this cool image of Korea that I had seen in the media. But as I learned the Korean language and culture, I came to see broader things," Sheng told the Korea JoongAng Daily, recalling his first trial class at the institute. "Now, I'm seeking opportunities to pursue academic opportunities in Korea through exchanges with Korean universities and to explore other possibilities for my future as I learn more deeply about Korea." Sheng's experience offers a glimpse into a broader evolution in the way people engage with Korea. For many learners, Korean pop culture remains the gateway. But what starts as curiosity is increasingly developing into a desire to learn Korean culture more deeply and build sustainable connections with Korea. The first King Sejong Institute opened in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, in 2007, with 13 institutes cutting the ribbon across three countries, including China and Japan, that first year. The early expansion reflected a relatively straightforward need: As more people encountered Korean dramas, pop music and other cultural content, they needed accessible places to learn the language and gain a deeper understanding of Korea, according to the King Sejong Institute Foundation. Riding on this momentum was the Shanghai branch, which was launched during the second expansion of King Sejong Institutes in the early 2010s. Officially designated as a King Sejong Institute at the Shanghai Korean Cultural Center in January 2011, the Shanghai branch has spent more than a decade combining Korean language education with cultural programs. "The Hallyu influence from K-pop and dramas has been among the main reasons many people initially decided to learn Korean and came to our institute," Ren Wendi, the Shanghai King Sejong Institute's lead director, told the Korea JoongAng Daily. But over time, institutes such as Shanghai have also sought to broaden learners' understanding of Korea beyond contemporary popular culture. "On top of mainstream trends, we have also been incorporating traditional culture, such as traditional music and hanbok, as well as contemporary art and other diverse Korean cultural content into our programs for local learners," Ren said. "Today, while cultural interest remains a major gateway, more and more students from various age groups, from teenagers to people in their 60s, come to our classes with many different motivations." That evolution mirrors the broader growth of the King Sejong Institute network. The network had grown from the original 13 locations in 2007 to 248 sites in 85 countries by 2023, while more than 216,000 students studied at the institutes that year. The foundation has also noted that more than half of its offline learners in 2022 were studying Korean for purposes including studying in Korea, pursuing academic opportunities or fin...

[Hired in Korea] As more internationals look to build careers in Korea, many find themselves facing practical hurdles — from limited guidance to a lack of firsthand experience. To bridge that gap, the Korea JoongAng Daily talks with professionals who have carved out their paths in diverse fields, offering readers real-world insights on how to start their careers in the country in this series "Hired in Korea." While taking part in a global business program in Austria, Coral Virginia Ortiz Estevez from the Dominican Republic realized Korea could be the ideal place to build her career. Drawn to the country's growing influence in advertising and branding, she saw it as the perfect fit for her wide-ranging interests in marketing, media relations and design. "At the time, in 2018, Korea was already emerging as a global leader in innovation and branding," Ortiz Estevez said in an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily. "So, I thought Korea would be a great place for people who enjoy exploring new things to take on a new challenge." "Now, I'm glad to be involved in so many different projects and to be part of the industry's growth and development." The Korea JoongAng Daily sat down with Ortiz Estevez to learn more about her journey, the challenges of building a career in Korea as a foreign professional and her advice for others hoping to do the same. What kind of company is Picky? Broadly speaking, Picky is a platform that connects a global community of beauty creators with Korean beauty brands. One of our main focuses is running campaigns that bring creators and brands together, giving emerging creators and companies opportunities to grow, gain exposure and collaborate in the beauty industry. Picky also runs a beauty review platform, product discovery app and consumer community. What is your role there? I work as the brand manager for Picky Club Magazine, overseeing everything from the magazine's initial concept to its distribution. My role includes developing editorial ideas, reaching out to creators, directing photo shoots and collaborating with the team on merchandise. A big part of my job is communicating with creators to better understand their needs. I also research industry trends and the skills creators are likely to need in the future so we can help creators and brands grow together within the beauty industry. We launched the magazine because we saw a need for a platform where creators could not only showcase themselves to a global audience but also continue learning, growing and gaining a better understanding of what the market is looking for. We wanted it to be both a source of inspiration and a practical resource for creators. Did you have any additional training, internships or certifications that helped prepare you for your career? Before coming to Korea, I joined a global business program in Austria. There were 42 participants from 22 countries, and I think that experience really shaped the way I see the world. It taught me to look at things from an international perspective, understand different cultures, and think about how a brand can succeed in different markets. It also strengthened my ability to adapt, and I think that's one of my biggest strengths. Many international students and professionals have that same advantage, and it's valuable not only for them but also for companies. That's one of the reasons Picky hires so many international employees. About half of the team is made up of people from overseas. Any academic tips? I think the most important thing is to look at the curriculum and make sure it matches your goals and the way you want to grow. I chose Chung-Ang University's Master of Business Administration program because the curriculum there seemed more connected to entertainment and media. When I looked at the syllabus, I felt it aligned more closely with what I was looking for, and I'm really glad I chose that university. You should also consider whether it is the kind of environment you want to...

Government closure data show that while most dog farms have shut down, an estimated 97 percent of their dogs were sold or distributed rather than rescued. GANGJIN COUNTY, South Jeolla —Inside a cramped, rust-stained farm in rural Gangjin County in South Jeolla, the air was thick with the mid-August heat and filled with the odor of dog feces and urine. It is one of the few dog farms still operating in Korea as the country counts down to a February 2027 ban on breeding, slaughtering and selling dogs for meat. Dozens of dogs were kept in cages lined up like prison cells at the farm. Each cage was barely large enough for one dog to move around. And what space they did have was devoid of comfort, composed of ruddy metal bars, soiled wooden flooring and the occasional plastic crate. Some dogs stayed quiet as people approached, while others barked constantly, wary of human presence. On Thursday, a Korea JoongAng Daily reporter joined a team from Humane World for Animals Korea — a nonprofit animal protection organization that works to end animal cruelty and improve animal welfare — as they moved through the farm, checking on the dogs' condition a day before they were scheduled to receive vaccinations. The vaccinations are the mandatory first step before the animals can clear Korea's 30-day quarantine and, by mid-September, be flown to the United States for adoption. That makes them lucky. Friday was malbok, the last of this year's boknal — the traditional calendar's three days that marked the beginning, apex and end of the summer's peak heat season. Many diners used to mark those days with a hot bowl of bosintang (dog meat soup), and this was likely the last malbok before the practice becomes fully illegal. Interviews with animal welfare workers, farmers and officials, along with a review of government data, show that the law meant to end dog meat has not settled the question it was written to answer: What happens to the dogs? The dogs' cages at the farm in Gangjin County were in poor condition, with rust covering much of the metal. Even the dogs' water bowls were covered in rust. Some dogs stayed together in one tiny cage, leaving them barely any space to move around. Having spent months in such unsanitary surroundings, many of the dogs also appeared to suffer from skin conditions. One white dog had visible red sores on his legs. "You can see how his skin has become like this, right? All of this is from skin disease," Lee Hae-won, a leader from the media and communications department from Humane World for Animals said. The white dog was among dozens living in poor conditions, waiting for a chance at adoption following the government's move to end the dog meat trade. Many dogs from these kinds of farms are underweight — not simply because of neglect, but because buyers often reject animals with visible fat. "[Dogs] have to be sent out as lean as possible for the slaughterhouses to accept them," said Lee Sang-kyung, the group's campaign team lead, as buyers view fat as detrimental to meat quality. Many rescued dogs also show signs of chronic stress, skin disease and, in some cases, injuries from fighting in overcrowded cages. Lee said 90 to 95 percent of dogs find permanent homes overseas, while the rest stay in foster care rather than being euthanized. Domestic adoption remains rare — fewer than a dozen cases total, mostly puppies too young to fly — which Lee attributed largely to Korean law that classifies large mixed-breed dogs as "dangerous," restricting their adoption, along with lingering stigma toward farm-raised dogs. Korea's Special Act on the Prohibition of Dog Meat took effect Aug. 7, 2024, seven months after the National Assembly passed it unanimously. It carries a three-year grace period, meaning the full ban — covering the breeding, slaughtering, distribution and sale of dogs for human consumption — does not take hold until Feb. 7, 2027. Under the law, 5,625 businesses — farms, slaughterhouses, distributors and res...

A rare 1910 work by independence activist Ahn Jung-geun returned from Japan and was shown publicly for the first time. Calligraphy written by Korean independence activist Ahn Jung-geun (1879-1910) just days before his execution was disclosed to the media Thursday for the first time, following its return from Japan last year. The work which reads "Manguk Gongbeop Buryeo Daepo" and translates to "International Law Is No Match for Cannons," was written by Ahn in 1910, the year he was executed, in Lushun Prison in China. The words reflect his lament over the powerlessness of international law when his request for a trial, in accordance with the international law, was rejected by Japanese authorities. Given the rare inscription on the back detailing the work's provenance and route of transmission, as well as its style and structure, experts consider this calligraphy to be among the finest examples of Ahn's works. A total of 31 calligraphic works of Ahn have been designated as national treasures of Korea. Liberation Day weekend offers wide range of opportunities for learning, reflection Gov't to honor 282 late independence fighters with state awards to mark Liberation Day Ha Young apologizes over great-grandfather's colonial-era record in handwritten letter "Ahn is known to have written numerous calligraphic works in prison, but this piece holds particular value for directly reflecting his insight into the cold realities of international relations," said Park Jeong-hye, secretary general of the Overseas Korean Cultural Heritage Foundation, at a press conference held Thursday at Jungmyeong Hall in Deoksu Palace. The Overseas Korean Cultural Heritage Foundation is a nonprofit organization under the Korea Heritage Service tasked with managing Korean cultural heritage located abroad. "I believe the work embodies Ahn's characteristically powerful brushstrokes, which remained unwavering even in the face of death," Park added. Ahn was known to be a devoted advocate of international law as laid out in "Elements of International Law," a treatise published by American jurist Henry Wheaton in 1836 that was later widely circulated in China, Japan, and Korea. After assassinating Ito Hirobumi, Japan's first prime minister, at Harbin Railway Station in 1909, Ahn argued that his act was a justified act of war carried out as a lieutenant general of Korea's independence army, and requested a trial under international law. Japanese authorities rejected his request and instead charged him with murder and sentenced him to death. Ahn died by hanging in Lushun Prison on March 29, 1910 at the age of 30. Ahn was no expert in calligraphy so his works had the tendency of tilting in an upright direction with strong brush strokes. "International Law is No Match for Cannons," however, balances that tendency, according to the experts. "Out of all calligraphy work of Ahn found, this work, in terms of style and everything, is extraordinary and near perfection," said literature researcher Park Cheol-sang. The inscription recorded on the reverse side — rare for Ahn's works — adds to the historical value. Records state that the original owner of the calligraphy was Kurihara Sadakichi and the work was later passed on to an anonymous individual from a family with the surname Pyeong. Kurihara was a Japanese warden of the Lushun Prison who is said to have shown respect toward Ahn. He requested for the postponement of Ahn's execution and delivered a white hanbok (Korean traditional clothing) to him before the execution, according to historical records. The anonymous individual wrote on the work's reverse side that one of the reasons for keeping the work was "out of compassion for Ahn's state of mind." "The fact that this person felt pity for Ahn indicates that maybe when Kurihara passed this on to this person, he may have explained Ahn's story in detail," said Jang Ji-hoon, a professor at Kyonggi University's Department of Korean Painting and Calligraphy. The ink hand...

The win rounded out the club's league stage play, leaving its hopes of advancing dependent on Thursday's results. Los Angeles FC (LAFC) have earned a second shootout victory in a continental tournament, with Korean superstar Son Heung-min converting his spot kick. Son was the second of five successive LAFC players to score their penalties in a 5-3 shootout victory over Club Queretaro of Mexico's Liga MX at BMO Stadium in Los Angeles on Wednesday. This was LAFC's third and final match of the opening phase of the Leagues Cup, a tournament featuring 36 teams from MLS and Liga MX. During the league phase, teams play three matches against opponents from the other league. The top four teams from each league will then advance to the knockout stage. In the first phase, a win is worth three points, a shootout victory is worth two points and a shootout loss is still good for one point. LAFC, who had a 5-4 shootout win over Chivas de Guadalajara and then defeated Toluca FC 1-0, finished the first round with seven points. The Los Angeles side are currently third on the MLS side, with the Columbus Crew and Real Salt Lake having already qualified. Austin FC and the Chicago Fire each have six points with one match remaining, and results in their final league phase matches on Thursday will determine LAFC's fate. Queretaro scored the match's first goal in the 12th minute on Ali Avila's header and held LAFC to just one shot on target in the first half. LAFC drew even a dozen minutes after the restart, courtesy of Denis Bouanga. Then they kept pressing for a go-ahead goal, with Son setting up Bouanga for a shot in the 59th minute and Son himself being denied by goalkeeper Guillermo Allison on a counterattack in the 72nd minute. Five minutes later, Son then released a left-footed shot from the left side of the box that missed the target to the right. Leagues Cup matches go directly to penalties without extra time. All five LAFC players scored, but Queretaro's fourth kicker, Daniel Parra, struck the crossbar. Son has gone goalless in all three Leagues Cup matches so far. He found the back of the net in four consecutive MLS regular season games coming back from the FIFA World Cup 2026 break last month. The Leagues Cup will continue through early September. The top three teams will qualify for the Concacaf Champions Cup, the top regional competition. Yonhap

The AUBL's Hangzhou tournament brought together teams and students from across Asia as the league moves toward a regular-season format. HANGZHOU, China — When Yonsei University and Korea University took the court at the Binxing Gymnasium in Hangzhou, China, the familiar chants and rhythmic cheers felt like a home game transported across the West Sea. The cheering scale may be smaller than the roaring crowds surrounding the historic Seoul rivalry, but the heart and passion remained unmistakably the same. Yet once the opening tip-off arced upward, it became clear this was more than just a relocated basketball game. Beneath the familiar colors and fight songs, a larger experiment in Asian university sports was quietly taking shape. Yonsei and Korea University, along with teams from China, Taiwan, Japan, Mongolia, the Philippines and Australia, convened in Hangzhou for the Asian University Basketball League (AUBL), a competition designed to establish a continental platform for men's collegiate hoops. At the second edition of the tournament, which ran from Aug. 2 through Tuesday, Yonsei, champion of the league's 2024 pilot season in Hong Kong, and Korea University, winner of five consecutive domestic University League championships from 2021 to 2025, brought their familiar intensity to the international hardwood before a pan-Asian audience. This year's tournament proved more challenging for the Korean contingents. Both teams advanced from the group stage but were eliminated in the quarterfinals. Defending champion National Chengchi University (NCCU) edged Yonsei 72-67, while Korea University lost 78-71 to Waseda University of Japan, which eventually finished in third place. A consolation matchup that would have seen the two Korean rivals face each other in a seventh-place game was ultimately called off as Typhoon Dolphin approached Hangzhou on Aug. 9. Both teams packed up and left early, anticipating flight cancellations and worsening weather conditions. Though many might assume that Asia's university-level basketball lacks opportunities to compete on the international stage, it's not entirely new to it. The Asian University Sports Federation has been running the Asian University Basketball Championship since the first edition was launched in 1998 in Manila. The competition has been staged periodically in various Asian cities over the years, including Manila, Cebu and Bangkok. The AUBL, however, seeks to build on that existing framework with a different model: Rather than bringing teams together for an international tournament once every few years, it aims to make cross-border competition a regular part of the university basketball calendar. Its planned home-and-away format is designed to give teams repeated opportunities to play one another throughout the season, with a centralized postseason to follow. Backed by sports figures including Joseph Tsai, David Blitzer, Marc Lasry and Chinese basketball icon Yao Ming, the league aims to develop a sustainable continental platform for university basketball. "We want to build a competition platform among Asian universities that doesn't just belong to a single market," Jay Li, CEO of the AUBL, said in an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily. "For a long time, university teams in Asia developed within their own domestic systems, which only allowed limited opportunities to compete internationally without a home-and-away format." "What we are trying to do here is to break down the walls and create a very inclusive global sports ecosystem," Li added. The league's geographic reach is expected to continue expanding as it moves toward a regular-season format, with the goals of including more universities from more countries and visiting more Asian cities for future tournaments, according to the AUBL CEO. For players, students studying abroad and spectators alike, the international experience is not limited to competition. The tournament offered them an opportunity to experience culture...

New U.S. rules and proposals are prompting Korean students and families to rethink study and work plans in America. When Park first moved to New York for college from Korea, she loved the sense of open-ended possibility her education offered. She graduated from a competitive international school in Korea where about 95 percent of her class went on to study in the United States, and she pictured a future built around career freedom and doing things on her own terms. Three years later, the soon-to-be-junior, who is studying communications and asked to be identified only by her surname, is living in a different reality — one shaped by quiet self-censorship and mounting anxiety under U.S. President Donald Trump's shifting policies toward international students. "People have gotten really quiet," Park told the Korea JoongAng Daily. "There's a hush-hush feeling among students when it comes to talking about politics or immigration. Everyone's warning each other to be careful on social media — even telling friends not to post things that could be risky." As Washington rolls out new policies that could affect international students' prospects of studying — and finding jobs after graduating — the caution now comes with real financial and legal stakes attached. F-1 visas cover most international students enrolled full-time at U.S. colleges and universities, including many completing internships during their studies through a separate work authorization called Curricular Practical Training (CPT). Under a federal rule taking effect Sept. 15, F-1 status will no longer grant an open-ended "duration of status" (D/S). Instead, visa admissions will carry a fixed maximum period of four years. For students moving on to Optional Practical Training (OPT) or extended-STEM OPT after graduation, this shift means they will often need to file a separate Extension of Stay application with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. OPT work can't legally start until that application is approved, creating a real chance of a gap between finishing school and being cleared to work, adding friction to a hiring process many employers already found slow and unpredictable. "My parents have told me to look into options abroad more broadly — not to just assume it has to be the United States — and to check out places like Canada or Australia," Park said. Park's experience is not an unfamiliar one across the U.S. higher education pipeline. As the U.S. back-to-school season approaches, Korean international students are grappling with a series of policy moves from Washington — with more potentially still to come. In addition to the finalized rule scrapping duration of status in favor of a four-year visa cap, reports revealed that the Trump administration is weighing a $100,000 fee on OPT, the postgraduation work permit that allows international graduates to work in the United States for one to three years. Neither policy singles out Korean students, but the timing has landed hard in a country that sends more students to U.S. universities than almost anywhere else — Korea was the third-largest source of international students in the United States in the 2024/25 academic year, behind only India and China, according to the Institute of International Education. On "Mijunmo," a Naver online community used by Koreans to trade advice on living in the United States, posts titled "Worried about OPT" have piled up by the day. "A huge cost burden makes companies reluctant to hire us, and that makes it harder to hold onto our legal status here," said Hong, who is entering his third year at an American university and asked to be identified only by his surname. "Massive fees turn into corporate hiring avoidance. It makes you ask: Is it really worth insisting on staying in the United States at that kind of cost and uncertainty?" The hesitation reaches students before they even set foot on a U.S. campus. One student accepted into a UCLA graduate program starting this fall — iden...

After his deal-filled trip to the United States and South America, President Lee Jae Myung must now confront falling approval ratings, market turmoil and backlash over his administration's legal reforms. President Lee Jae Myung returned home Monday from his tour of the United States and South America, but the news upon coming back to Korea was hardly welcoming. A Realmeter poll showed that 50.5 percent of respondents disapproved of his performance — the first time his negative rating has surpassed 50 percent since he took office. His approval rating also fell to a record low of 45.9 percent. During his seven-night, 11-day trip, the longest overseas tour of his presidency, Lee secured cooperation worth some $950 billion between Samsung Electronics, SK hynix and global technology giants, while also expanding agreements with Brazil, Chile and Argentina on critical minerals and energy supply chains. Yet there was little time for celebration. Just three hours after returning home, Lee convened a meeting to review the real estate and stock markets. The problems at home have reached a critical point, leaving little room to recover from the grueling diplomatic schedule. The housing and stock markets are showing unprecedented signs of instability. The benchmark Kospi plunged 22.19 percent in July, its steepest monthly decline since the 23.13 percent drop during the global financial crisis in October 2008. After surpassing 9,000 in June, the index at one point fell below 6,000. The introduction of single-stock leveraged exchange-traded funds has been cited as one factor behind the heightened volatility, and Kim Yong-beom, the presidential policy chief who spearheaded the measure, was sued on Monday on allegations including abuse of authority. The government has been seeking solutions to the housing crisis through a series of public debates, but Seoul apartments continue to experience a "triple rise," with sales prices, jeonse (lump-sum deposit) and monthly rents all climbing simultaneously. The tax reform announced on Monday, which focuses almost entirely on raising taxes, also risks creating further distortions. The ruling Democratic Party's public briefing on Monday on amendments to the Criminal Procedure Act was another case of putting the cart before the horse. The ruling party has pushed through sweeping changes to a criminal justice system that had remained in place for 72 years without sufficient deliberation and is now trying to sell the public on a supposedly "better" system. The backlash from victims and even some members of the ruling party underscores the deep divisions the legislation has created. President Lee must squarely face the reality that his government and ruling party are causing public anxiety and confusion, and make his position clear. Controversial proposals, including a constitutional amendment to allow presidential re-election and an expansion of grounds for dismissing criminal cases inserted into the procedural law, will not be put to rest without a clear stance from the president. With polls showing that more than 60 percent of the public opposes the criminal procedure amendments, the case for a presidential veto is growing stronger. This is the time for President Lee to demonstrate that he takes his constitutional duty to protect the safety and property of the people seriously. 부정평가 50% 넘은 날 귀국한 이 대통령에게 주어진 과제 이재명 대통령이 미국·남미 순방을 마치고 어제 귀국했지만 그를 마중한 건 달갑지 않은 소식이었다. 리얼미터의 여론조사에서 이 대통령의 국정수행 부정평가가 50.5%로 취임 이후 처음 50%를 넘겼다. 긍정 평가도 45.9%로 최저치였다. 취임 이후 가장 긴 7박11일의 순방에서 이 대통령은 삼성전자·SK하이닉스와 글로벌 빅테크의 1390조원대 협력을 연결하고 브라질·칠레·아르헨티나와 핵심 광물 및 에너지 공급망 협력을 확대하기로 하는 등의 성과를 거뒀다. 하지만 생색도 내지 못하고 귀국 3시간여 뒤 부동산·주식시장 점검 회의를 했다. 숨가쁜 외교 일정의 여독을 풀기에는 내치의 문제가 임계점에 도달한 상황이다. 부동산과 주식 시장은 말 그대로 '역대급'의 불안을 보이고 있다. 7월 한 달간 코스피는 2008년 10월 금융위기(-23.13%) 이후 최대 수준인 22.19% 하락했다. 6월에 9000을 넘겼던 지수가 한때 6000선 아래까지 밀렸다. 변동성 확대 원인으로 단일종목 레버리지 ETF 도입이 꼽혔고, 그것을 주도한 김용범 청와대 정책실장은 직권남용 등의 혐의로 어제 고발당했다. 국민 대토론회를 열어 부동산 정책 해법을 찾아나서고 있지만, 서울 아파트는 매매·...

After his deal-filled trip to the United States and South America, President Lee Jae Myung must now confront falling approval ratings, market turmoil and backlash over his administration's legal reforms. Opinion Desk Opinion Desk Published August 4, 2026 - 11:46 a.m. Modified August 5, 2026 - 8:32 a.m. President Lee Jae Myung and first lady Kim Hye Kyung greet officials upon arriving aboard Air Force One at Seoul Air Base in Seongnam, Gyeonggi, on Aug. 3, after completing their trip to the United States and three South American countries. JOINT PRESS CORPS President Lee Jae Myung returned home Monday from his tour of the United States and South America, but the news upon coming back to Korea was hardly welcoming. A Realmeter poll showed that 50.5 percent of respondents disapproved of his performance — the first time his negative rating has surpassed 50 percent since he took office. His approval rating also fell to a record low of 45.9 percent. During his seven-night, 11-day trip, the longest overseas tour of his presidency, Lee secured cooperation worth some $950 billion between Samsung Electronics, SK hynix and global technology giants, while also expanding agreements with Brazil, Chile and Argentina on critical minerals and energy supply chains. Yet there was little time for celebration. Just three hours after returning home, Lee convened a meeting to review the real estate and stock markets. The problems at home have reached a critical point, leaving little room to recover from the grueling diplomatic schedule. The housing and stock markets are showing unprecedented signs of instability. The benchmark Kospi plunged 22.19 percent in July, its steepest monthly decline since the 23.13 percent drop during the global financial crisis in October 2008. After surpassing 9,000 in June, the index at one point fell below 6,000. The introduction of single-stock leveraged exchange-traded funds has been cited as one factor behind the heightened volatility, and Kim Yong-beom, the presidential policy chief who spearheaded the measure, was sued on Monday on allegations including abuse of authority. The government has been seeking solutions to the housing crisis through a series of public debates, but Seoul apartments continue to experience a "triple rise," with sales prices, jeonse (lump-sum deposit) and monthly rents all climbing simultaneously. The tax reform announced on Monday, which focuses almost entirely on raising taxes, also risks creating further distortions. The ruling Democratic Party's public briefing on Monday on amendments to the Criminal Procedure Act was another case of putting the cart before the horse. The ruling party has pushed through sweeping changes to a criminal justice system that had remained in place for 72 years without sufficient deliberation and is now trying to sell the public on a supposedly "better" system. The backlash from victims and even some members of the ruling party underscores the deep divisions the legislation has created. President Lee must squarely face the reality that his government and ruling party are causing public anxiety and confusion, and make his position clear. Controversial proposals, including a constitutional amendment to allow presidential re-election and an expansion of grounds for dismissing criminal cases inserted into the procedural law, will not be put to rest without a clear stance from the president. With polls showing that more than 60 percent of the public opposes the criminal procedure amendments, the case for a presidential veto is growing stronger. This is the time for President Lee to demonstrate that he takes his constitutional duty to protect the safety and property of the people seriously.

The author is a professor of Economics, Sungkyunkwan University The number of foreign nationals residing in Korea reached 2.91 million as of July and is expected to surpass 3 million by the end of this year. Of the nation's 227 municipalities, 142 now have immigrant populations exceeding 5 percent. About 1.1 million foreign nationals work in small and medium enterprises, agriculture, fisheries and livestock farming — sectors many Koreans avoid. Meanwhile students from immigrant backgrounds now exceed 200,000. Although immigrants have become vital to easing labor shortages in an aging society, public perception remains slow to change. The Migration Research and Training Center's Immigrant Social Integration Index shows that while many Koreans acknowledge immigrants' economic contributions, they remain hesitant to accept them as full members of society. This gap between a growing foreign population and limited public acceptance raises a crucial question: Is Korean society truly prepared for an era of 3 million foreign residents? Without careful preparation, marginalization and social conflict could become unavoidable. Korea should closely examine the experiences of Western nations that struggled with isolation and social tensions due to insufficient institutional safeguards during early migration waves. If Korea misses its window to strengthen social integration, it risks repeating the same mistakes. The first priority must be reforming the governance structure overseeing immigration. While the Ministry of Justice's Korea Immigration Service has fulfilled its role thus far, expanding immigration scope has led to conflicting roles across multiple agencies. To respond effectively, Korea must strengthen overarching policy coordination and grant the agency true central coordinating authority. In her 15-volume historical narrative series about the Roman civilization, author Nanami Shiono attributed Rome's longevity to its openness and inclusiveness. Crucially, this was not a policy of unconditional acceptance, but a system that integrated newcomers into Rome's established order and structure. How, then, can we expand such openness and inclusiveness? Simply asking the public to embrace the virtues of humanitarianism or universal brotherhood is not enough. People must first come to recognize that immigrants are not free riders but members of society who make positive contributions. Korea should significantly expand Korean-language education to reduce misunderstandings and conflicts caused by communication barriers. That will naturally require funding. Yet asking taxpayers to shoulder additional costs solely for immigrants is not a realistic solution. A different approach is needed. Relying exclusively on the general budget means immigration programs are often pushed to the bottom of funding priorities because of their specialized nature. Instead, Korea should establish a dedicated funding mechanism using revenues already paid by foreign nationals, such as visa and nationality application fees. Legislation to create such a system has already been proposed in the National Assembly. Social integration cannot be achieved through language education alone. It also requires stable funding, consistent policies and a national immigration strategy. Immigration should no longer be viewed merely as an extension of welfare or labor policy but as part of the country's long-term growth strategy. Many major economies already use immigration as a national strategy to attract skilled talent and revitalize regional economies. If Korea hopes to recruit entrepreneurs and other essential workers needed by industry, it must first comprehensively overhaul its fragmented visa system to better reflect public sentiment and policy goals. It should also establish an integrated system to project the number of entrants by visa category and manage the overall inflow of foreign workers. The debate over whether Korea should open its doors to immigration is over. Th...

The Lee Jae Myung administration has held five policy forums on housing supply, finance and taxation, promising to hear a wide range of views from the market. Yet the tax reform plan announced on Monday came down to one thing: higher taxes. President Lee's pledge that he would "not use taxes as a tool of housing policy" has vanished, as has the Presidential policy chief Kim Yong-beom's call to "shut up and just build" more homes. Instead of expanding supply and encouraging transactions, the government has shifted its focus to raising the long-term burden of property ownership and transactions. In the end, it is simply "shut up and just raise taxes." The government says it is normalizing property taxes, which are low compared to other major economies, while protecting genuine homebuyers. But the reality is different. The threshold for the comprehensive real estate tax on single-home owners has been raised from 1.2 billion won to 1.4 billion won ($839,500 to $979,5000) in assessed value, while the basic deduction for nonresident single-home owners has been cut from 1.2 billion won to 900 million won. At the same time, the cap on annual increases in the tax burden will rise from 150 percent to 200 percent, while the fair market value ratio will increase from 60 percent to 70 percent next year. The tax rate on ultrahigh-end homes will nearly double, while rates on homes in the 600 million to 1.2 billion won taxable value bracket will rise from 1 percent to 1.3 percent. The government is also making it harder to sell homes. Long-term capital gains deductions will be based more heavily on years of residence, while new limits will be imposed on the deduction. This runs counter to the basic principle of a functioning housing market: If property taxes rise, transaction taxes should be lowered to encourage homes to come onto the market. President Lee had also promised before taking office to expand inheritance-tax deductions so that people would not have to sell their longtime homes because of taxes. That pledge is absent from the latest plan. With neither transaction-tax relief nor expanded inheritance-tax deductions, homeowners will face heavier burdens when they own, sell or pass on their homes. The policy amounts to punitive taxation of homeowners. The consequences could be severe. The completion rate for Seoul apartments fell 58.4 percent in the first half of this year, while the average jeonse (lump-sum deposit) surpassed 700 million won. Regulatory side effects are spreading beyond southern Seoul into northern districts and the wider capital region, worsening rental-market pressures. The lessons of the Roh Moo-hyun and Moon Jae-in administrations are clear: Housing markets cannot be stabilized by taxes alone. Higher costs will eventually be passed on to tenants. The solution is equally clear. If property taxes are raised, transaction taxes must be boldly cut. Reconstruction and redevelopment should be encouraged, and housing supply expanded. Only a steady stream of new homes can restore the hope of homeownership, stabilize prices and normalize the market. By trying to overpower the market, the government is leaving ordinary citizens to bear the burden of a tax bomb. 집값 불안 키운 부동산 정책, 징벌적 과세만 더 강화했다 이재명 정부는 공급·금융·세제 등을 주제로 다섯 차례 부동산 정책 토론회를 열며 시장의 다양한 의견을 듣겠다고 했다. 그러나 정부가 3일 발표한 세제개편안의 결론은 결국 증세였다. "세금을 주택 정책의 수단으로 쓰지 않겠다"던 이재명 대통령의 약속도, "닥치고 공급"을 강조했던 김용범 청와대 정책실장의 호언장담도 자취를 감췄다. 정책의 무게중심은 공급 확대나 거래 활성화가 아니라 장기적인 보유세·거래세 부담 확대에 쏠렸다. 남은 것은 결국 '닥치고 증세'뿐이다. 정부는 주요국보다 낮은 보유세를 정상화하고 실수요자를 배려한 정책이라고 설명하지만 현실과는 거리가 멀다. 1세대 1주택자의 종부세 과세 기준은 공시가격 12억원에서 14억원으로 높였지만, 비거주 1주택자의 기본공제는 12억원에서 9억원으로 낮췄다. 보유보다 거주를 중시하는 방향으로 세제를 바꾸겠다는 취지다. 그러나 동시에 종부세 세부담 상한은 직전 연도 세액의 150%에서 200%로 크게 높이고, 종부세 공정시장가액 비율도 현행 60%에서 내년 70%로 인상한다. 과세표준 12억원(시가 약 45억원) 이상 초고가 주택은 종부세율이 현행보다 두 배 수준으로 높아지고, 과세표준 6억~12억원 구간의 중산층 주택도 세율이 1%에서 1.3%로 오른다. 정부는 부동산 거래의 퇴로도 막고 있다. 양도소득세 장기보유특별공제는 보유 기간 공제를 없애고 거주 기간 중심으로 바꾸는 데 그치지 않고, 기존 장기거주특별공제를 폐지하는 대신 장기거주소득공제를 신설했다. 장기...

Columns Korea should strengthen military education with better funding, Seoul-area training and service-specific expertise rather than merging the academies. Opinion Desk Opinion Desk Published August 4, 2026 - 9:33 a.m. Modified August 4, 2026 - 10:52 a.m. Newly commissioned Navy ensigns toss their service caps into the air and cheer at the commencement and commissioning ceremony for officer candidates of the Navy and Marine Corps on the grounds of the Naval Academy in Jinhae-gu, Changwon, South Gyeongsang, on May 28. ROK Navy Song Ho-keun The author is a columnist at the JoongAng Ilbo, a chair professor and director of Doheon Academy, Hallym University. On the night of April 21, 1951, Britain's Gloucestershire Regiment dug in on Mount Gamak in Paju to confront Chinese and North Korean troops crossing the Imjin River toward Seoul. Outnumbered, 750 soldiers fought until their final rounds. As Andrew Salmon recounted in "To the Last Round" (2009), their sacrifice bought time to establish a line at Mount Umyeon. Defending the capital remains just as vital 75 years later. If an adversary advanced simultaneously through Goyang, Mia, and Guri, which of the Han River's 32 bridges would commanders destroy? That is not a question ChatGPT can answer. Lose the capital region in war and defeat is all but certain. Kyiv remains heavily fortified for precisely that reason. Yet do our future Army, Navy, and Air Force commanders know the terrain of the Seoul metropolitan area as instinctively as GPS? Despite this, the service headquarters sit at the foot of Gyeryong Mountain in Chungnam, far removed from the pulse of modern society. Can future national security leaders sharpen their understanding of the nation while spending their formative years around Gyeryong Mountain? Military academies are not tools for balanced regional development. Recently, defense officials and lawmakers signaled legislation to merge the three military academies under the banner of "integration," to be located at Jaundae — its name alone evokes drifting purple clouds. But blending soil, water, and sky makes little academic or tactical sense. Operations from World War II's Iwo Jima to the Chosin Reservoir succeeded because joint operations rested on deep, distinct domain expertise. In academia, interdisciplinary programs fail without foundational excellence in specific disciplines. Jointness cannot replace expertise. Ultimately, military strength relies on one prerequisite: attracting outstanding young talent. If top students stop choosing the academies, national defense begins its decline. Decades ago, military officers held high social standing. Today, online marriage rankings place officers near the bottom, only slightly above manufacturing workers at small enterprises. Between political controversies and a perceived loss of prestige, the profession has lost its luster. Meanwhile, while leading civilian universities have seen budgets surge and facilities modernize, military academies resemble impoverished villages. The Korea Military Academy's 2026 education budget stands at 28.4 billion won ($20.5 million), with the Naval and Air Force academies at roughly 21 billion won each. While touted as high per-student expenditures due to specialized equipment, the campuses remain outdated, and faculty morale has withered. This is how the nation treats those willing to risk their lives for security — and we are told merger alone will fix it? How, then, should we truly enhance jointness and military strength? First, expand the Korea Military Academy campus in Taereung to establish a shared liberal arts curriculum for first- and second-year cadets from all three services. In their third year, cadets should move to Taereung, Jinhae or Cheongju for specialized training, introducing joint operations tracks later in their early officer careers. Second, allocate funding commensurate with the value of national security to attract top-tier cadets and faculty. Over the past four...

Columns As the foreign population surges, Korea must overhaul immigration policy, funding and integration systems to turn demographic change into growth instead of conflict. Opinion Desk Opinion Desk Published August 4, 2026 - 12:01 a.m. Modified August 5, 2026 - 8:57 a.m. International students tour the dormitory during a move-in ceremony in Yeongdo-gu, Busan, on March 11. This facility, designed to house five international students, serves as a prime example of adding new value to abandoned urban housing through collaboration between the local community and the university. Yonhap News Jeon Yong-il The author is a professor of Economics, Sungkyunkwan University The number of foreign nationals residing in Korea reached 2.91 million as of July and is expected to surpass 3 million by the end of this year. Of the nation's 227 municipalities, 142 now have immigrant populations exceeding 5 percent. About 1.1 million foreign nationals work in small- and medium-sized enterprises, agriculture, fisheries and livestock farming — sectors many Koreans avoid. Meanwhile, students from immigrant backgrounds now exceed 200,000. Although immigrants have become vital to easing labor shortages in an aging society, public perception remains slow to change. The Migration Research and Training Center's Immigrant Social Integration Index shows that while many Koreans acknowledge immigrants' economic contributions, they remain hesitant to accept them as full members of society. This gap between a growing foreign population and limited public acceptance raises a crucial question: Is Korean society truly prepared for an era of 3 million foreign residents? Without careful preparation, marginalization and social conflict could become unavoidable. Korea should closely examine the experiences of Western nations that struggled with isolation and social tensions due to insufficient institutional safeguards during early migration waves. If Korea misses its window to strengthen social integration, it risks repeating the same mistakes. The first priority must be reforming the governance structure overseeing immigration. While the Ministry of Justice's Korea Immigration Service has fulfilled its role thus far, expanding immigration scope has led to conflicting roles across multiple agencies. To respond effectively, Korea must strengthen overarching policy coordination and grant the agency true central coordinating authority. In her 15-volume historical narrative series about the Roman civilization, author Nanami Shiono attributed Rome's longevity to its openness and inclusiveness. Crucially, this was not a policy of unconditional acceptance, but a system that integrated newcomers into Rome's established order and structure. How, then, can we expand such openness and inclusiveness? Simply asking the public to embrace the virtues of humanitarianism or universal brotherhood is not enough. People must first come to recognize that immigrants are not free riders but members of society who make positive contributions. Korea should significantly expand Korean-language education to reduce misunderstandings and conflicts caused by communication barriers. That will naturally require funding. Yet asking taxpayers to shoulder additional costs solely for immigrants is not a realistic solution. A different approach is needed. Relying exclusively on the general budget means immigration programs are often pushed to the bottom of funding priorities because of their specialized nature. Instead, Korea should establish a dedicated funding mechanism using revenues already paid by foreign nationals, such as visa and nationality application fees. Legislation to create such a system has already been proposed in the National Assembly. Social integration cannot be achieved through language education alone. It also requires stable funding, consistent policies and a national immigration strategy. Immigration should no longer be viewed merely as an extension of welfare or labor policy b...

Editorials President Lee Jae Myung's real estate tax plan burdens homeowners, discourages transactions and risks worsening supply and rental pressures. Opinion Desk Opinion Desk Published August 4, 2026 - 12:01 a.m. Modified August 5, 2026 - 8:58 a.m. President Lee Jae Myung, fifth from left and on screen, speaks during the national debate on real estate policy at KBS in Yeouido, western Seoul, on July 23. JOINT PRESS CORPS The Lee Jae Myung administration has held five policy forums on housing supply, finance and taxation, promising to hear a wide range of views from the market. Yet the tax reform plan announced on Monday came down to one thing: higher taxes. President Lee's pledge that he would "not use taxes as a tool of housing policy" has vanished, as has the Presidential policy chief Kim Yong-beom's call to "shut up and just build" more homes. Instead of expanding supply and encouraging transactions, the government has shifted its focus to raising the long-term burden of property ownership and transactions. In the end, it is simply "shut up and just raise taxes." The government says it is normalizing property taxes, which are low compared to other major economies, while protecting genuine homebuyers. But the reality is different. The threshold for the comprehensive real estate tax on single-home owners has been raised from 1.2 billion won to 1.4 billion won ($839,500 to $979,5000) in assessed value, while the basic deduction for nonresident single-home owners has been cut from 1.2 billion won to 900 million won. At the same time, the cap on annual increases in the tax burden will rise from 150 percent to 200 percent, while the fair market value ratio will increase from 60 percent to 70 percent next year. The tax rate on ultrahigh-end homes will nearly double, while rates on homes in the 600 million to 1.2 billion won taxable value bracket will rise from 1 percent to 1.3 percent. The government is also making it harder to sell homes. Long-term capital gains deductions will be based more heavily on years of residence, while new limits will be imposed on the deduction. This runs counter to the basic principle of a functioning housing market: If property taxes rise, transaction taxes should be lowered to encourage homes to come onto the market. President Lee had also promised before taking office to expand inheritance-tax deductions so that people would not have to sell their longtime homes because of taxes. That pledge is absent from the latest plan. With neither transaction-tax relief nor expanded inheritance-tax deductions, homeowners will face heavier burdens when they own, sell or pass on their homes. The policy amounts to punitive taxation of homeowners. The consequences could be severe. The completion rate for Seoul apartments fell 58.4 percent in the first half of this year, while the average jeonse (lump-sum deposit) surpassed 700 million won. Regulatory side effects are spreading beyond southern Seoul into northern districts and the wider capital region, worsening rental-market pressures. The lessons of the Roh Moo-hyun and Moon Jae-in administrations are clear: Housing markets cannot be stabilized by taxes alone. Higher costs will eventually be passed on to tenants. The solution is equally clear. If property taxes are raised, transaction taxes must be boldly cut. Reconstruction and redevelopment should be encouraged, and housing supply expanded. Only a steady stream of new homes can restore the hope of homeownership, stabilize prices and normalize the market. By trying to overpower the market, the government is leaving ordinary citizens to bear the burden of a tax bomb.

Columns Korea should strengthen military education with better funding, Seoul-area training and service-specific expertise rather than merging the academies. Opinion Desk Opinion Desk Published August 4, 2026 - 12:00 a.m. Modified August 5, 2026 - 8:59 a.m. Newly commissioned Navy ensigns toss their service caps into the air and cheer at the commencement and commissioning ceremony for officer candidates of the Navy and Marine Corps on the grounds of the Naval Academy in Jinhae-gu, Changwon, South Gyeongsang, on May 28. ROK Navy Song Ho-keun The author is a columnist at the JoongAng Ilbo, a chair professor and director of Doheon Academy, Hallym University. On the night of April 21, 1951, Britain's Gloucestershire Regiment dug in on Mount Gamak in Paju to confront Chinese and North Korean troops crossing the Imjin River toward Seoul. Outnumbered, 750 soldiers fought until their final rounds. As Andrew Salmon recounted in "To the Last Round" (2009), their sacrifice bought time to establish a line at Mount Umyeon. Defending the capital remains just as vital 75 years later. If an adversary advanced simultaneously through Goyang, Mia, and Guri, which of the Han River's 32 bridges would commanders destroy? That is not a question ChatGPT can answer. Lose the capital region in war and defeat is all but certain. Kyiv remains heavily fortified for precisely that reason. Yet do our future Army, Navy, and Air Force commanders know the terrain of the Seoul metropolitan area as instinctively as GPS? Despite this, the service headquarters sit at the foot of Gyeryong Mountain in Chungnam, far removed from the pulse of modern society. Can future national security leaders sharpen their understanding of the nation while spending their formative years around Gyeryong Mountain? Military academies are not tools for balanced regional development. Recently, defense officials and lawmakers signaled legislation to merge the three military academies under the banner of "integration," to be located at Jaundae — its name alone evokes drifting purple clouds. But blending soil, water, and sky makes little academic or tactical sense. Operations from World War II's Iwo Jima to the Chosin Reservoir succeeded because joint operations rested on deep, distinct domain expertise. In academia, interdisciplinary programs fail without foundational excellence in specific disciplines. Jointness cannot replace expertise. Ultimately, military strength relies on one prerequisite: attracting outstanding young talent. If top students stop choosing the academies, national defense begins its decline. Decades ago, military officers held high social standing. Today, online marriage rankings place officers near the bottom, only slightly above manufacturing workers at small enterprises. Between political controversies and a perceived loss of prestige, the profession has lost its luster. Meanwhile, while leading civilian universities have seen budgets surge and facilities modernize, military academies resemble impoverished villages. The Korea Military Academy's 2026 education budget stands at 28.4 billion won ($20.5 million), with the Naval and Air Force academies at roughly 21 billion won each. While touted as high per-student expenditures due to specialized equipment, the campuses remain outdated, and faculty morale has withered. This is how the nation treats those willing to risk their lives for security — and we are told merger alone will fix it? How, then, should we truly enhance jointness and military strength? First, expand the Korea Military Academy campus in Taereung to establish a shared liberal arts curriculum for first- and second-year cadets from all three services. In their third year, cadets should move to Taereung, Jinhae or Cheongju for specialized training, introducing joint operations tracks later in their early officer careers. Second, allocate funding commensurate with the value of national security to attract top-tier cadets and faculty. Over the past four ...

Marina Neretina shares how she built a career in marketing at renewable energy startup CnerG. [Hired in Korea] As more internationals look to build careers in Korea, many find themselves facing practical hurdles — from limited guidance to a lack of firsthand experience. To bridge that gap, the Korea JoongAng Daily talks with professionals who have carved out their paths in diverse fields, offering readers real-world insights on how to start their careers in the country in this series "Hired in Korea." While running her own paper recycling business in Russia, Marina Neretina wanted a bigger opportunity in a country with a completely different culture, and she chose Korea. Neretina went on to earn a master's degree in international business from Ewha Womans University and now works as the marketing lead at sustainability startup CnerG. CnerG runs a global digital marketplace that helps companies procure environmental commodities, including international renewable energy certificates and carbon credits. "I was always interested in marketing and sustainable development, so I would say what I'm doing now is almost the perfect role for me," Neretina told the Korea JoongAng Daily. "It all started with making handmade paper, which made me wonder, 'Why don't we find better ways to recycle paper?'" "Now I've built the company's marketing system almost from scratch, and I'm happy to see not only my own professional growth but also the growth of the sustainability industry here in Korea," she added. The Korea JoongAng Daily sat down with Neretina to learn more about her journey, the challenges of building a career in Korea as a foreign professional and her advice for others hoping to do the same. Q. Have you always been interested in sustainable development? A. Yeah, because I've always wanted to have a bigger purpose. Working in the sustainability sector, I feel like I'm contributing to a business that helps the environment, which gives me a meaningful role in society. Even though it all started rather randomly when I was making paper crafts, I really enjoyed creating things with paper and eventually started a business. The more I worked on it, the more I realized how rewarding it is to do something meaningful. When I saw a position at this company, I thought, "This is the right role for me." Luckily, I received the job offer. I was happy to work in a field that aligned with my values. What kind of company is CnerG, and what does the company do? CnerG is a company focused on renewable energy and carbon credit markets. Our clients are companies that either voluntarily or due to industry regulations want to become more sustainable and responsible. They may want to purchase renewable energy or offset their carbon emissions by buying carbon credits. That's where CnerG comes in. There are many regulations governing these markets, so companies can't simply buy carbon credits or renewable energy certificates without understanding which options are suitable for them. CnerG helps businesses navigate those regulations by providing expert guidance and making it easier to procure the right environmental commodities. What is your role at CnerG? My role as a marketing lead is to attract new customers effectively. Since the renewable energy and carbon markets are highly technical and heavily regulated, I'm in charge of assessing and explaining everything to our clients. The goal is to demonstrate our expertise while helping potential clients understand how these markets work. Although my primary focus has always been digital marketing, I have taken on broader responsibilities, including developing strategy, establishing marketing processes and launching new channels and initiatives. Overall, my work involves creating marketing assets and content, managing our website and digital channels, and running paid online campaigns that help us attract new clients and generate leads from companies interested in working with us. What helped you prepare for y...

When the United States signed a civil nuclear cooperation deal with Saudi Arabia last week, it opened a door for Riyadh that it has kept shut for Seoul for half a century. As South Korea conducts its own negotiations with Washington to secure uranium enrichment and spent fuel reprocessing rights, the timing of the U.S.-Saudi accord has not gone unnoticed. Thomas Countryman, who served as lead negotiator for the United States during the bilateral "123 agreement" renegotiations with Seoul from 2013 to 2015, described the U.S.-Saudi accord as a historic departure from American nonproliferation leadership. "For the last 50 years, there have not been any exceptions made in 123 agreements until this Saudi agreement," Countryman told the Korea JoongAng Daily. "It is the first big reversal of policy and a reversal of leadership, because it opens the door for other countries to do the same thing with their friends." The deal drew attention chiefly for appearing to carve out an exception to Washington's nonproliferation "gold standard" — the decades-old principle that foreign partners forgo domestic enrichment and reprocessing while accepting intrusive International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) inspections. Under the U.S.-Saudi agreement, Washington and Riyadh will spend two years studying whether uranium enrichment on Saudi soil is commercially viable. If approved, an American company would build and operate the facility. If deemed unviable, Saudi Arabia is barred from pursuing enrichment independently or with foreign partners for 10 years. South Korea's presidential National Security Office reacted with cautious vigilance. "We've been following this agreement with interest," National Security Adviser Wi Sung-lac told reporters on July 22. "Even if it carries no direct implications for us, it could carry indirect ones." On the surface, the Saudi deal could be seen as a hopeful sign — proof that the United States will now trade nonproliferation purity for strategic advantage, which could work in South Korea's favor. But South Korean officials and nuclear experts aren't so sure. Seoul's nuclear sector operates on a vastly different scale, under entirely different geopolitical stakes. South Korea's nuclear partnership with Washington is governed by a bilateral "123 agreement," named after Section 123 of the U.S. Atomic Energy Act. Under its current terms, Seoul must obtain Washington's written consent before it can enrich uranium or reprocess spent fuel — a restriction that has held firm even as South Korea built one of the world's largest civilian nuclear sectors. South Korea operates 26 domestic reactors and powers a broader network requiring fuel for roughly 40 reactors when accounting for export projects. That operational track record gives Seoul a compelling economic case for domestic fuel-cycle rights — one far stronger than Saudi Arabia, which has yet to turn on its first commercial reactor. "Because South Korea's and Saudi Arabia's civilian nuclear industries are at fundamentally different stages of development, a simple side-by-side comparison is difficult," a senior Foreign Ministry official said during a closed-door briefing on Tuesday. The official emphasized that any future enrichment facility in Saudi Arabia would be built, run and strictly controlled by U.S. companies — a U.S.-managed "black box" arrangement. The U.S. Department of Energy explicitly framed the agreement as a vehicle to secure a vital foothold for American vendors, such as Westinghouse, in the nascent Saudi reactor market. South Korea's nuclear cooperation talks with the United States, led by chief negotiator Lim Kap-soo, are not seeking a foreign-managed facility. Seoul wants the right to operate and control indigenous fuel-cycle facilities. That distinction is critical. Washington felt comfortable offering a foreign-managed arrangement to a dependent partner with no existing commercial reactors. Granting similar rights to South Korea, however, would cr...

Lazare Eloundou Assomo called for a proper assessment to determine whether a redevelopment plan threatens a site's Outstanding Universal Value. BUSAN — Calling Korea's Jongmyo Shrine a "jewel," Lazare Eloundou Assomo, director of the Unesco World Heritage Centre, stressed the need for a proper procedure to find a solution to the latest dispute over plans to redevelop the area around the landmark. "Jongmyo is the jewel of Korea — that's what I like to call it," Assomo said in a recent roundtable interview with the Korean press on the sidelines of the 48th session of the World Heritage Committee currently underway in Busan. "It was the first World Heritage site that Korea gave as a gift to the international community by inscribing it. When you speak about Jongmyo, it's equivalent to speaking about Korea — its people and its culture. So it's important to preserve Jongmyo, and it's the responsibility of the international community to help preserve it." Jongmyo Shrine, the Confucian royal shrine of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) located in the heart of the Korean capital, is mired in a high-rise redevelopment dispute involving the Korea Heritage Service, the Seoul Metropolitan City and the residents. A new height limit for a neighboring area permits the construction of taller buildings, a change welcomed by landowners. The central government, however, has pushed back, with the Korea Heritage Service warning that the taller buildings could undermine the shrine's scenic and symbolic value. The heritage agency and Unesco have pushed for a World Heritage Impact Assessment — a review that evaluates whether a development plan threatens a site's Outstanding Universal Value, the core standard for Unesco World Heritage inscription. The city and residents backing the redevelopment have objected to the assessment. Assomo said the assessment is necessary "to see and understand the impact and to find a solution." "What we can see in Jongmyo happens in a lot of sites around the world. What's important is not to avoid the impacts that will have negative effects. The rules are the same for all heritage sites. We hope and encourage all the stakeholders to work together." Assomo, born in Cameroon, is an architecture expert who has worked with Unesco since 2003, and was appointed director of the World Heritage Centre in 2021. He is especially known for leading the post-conflict reconstruction of mausoleums in Timbuktu and safeguarding ancient manuscripts. Condemning heritage deconstruction, as was the case with Timbuktu due to extremist fighting, as a "war crime," Assomo said preservation of heritage, especially when it's closely associated with a community, is what forms the fundamentals of a distinct culture. "The biggest consequence of such heritage deconstruction is that it erases the evidence of different cultures," he said. "If you come to Cameroon, you will be very interested to visit my heritage the way I am coming to Korea to visit your heritage. That gives us the possibility of sharing something which is important and the value of universality. That's what Unesco is protecting." During the 48th session of the World Heritage Committee, a decision was adopted calling on Japan to adequately reflect the history of Korea's forced labor done at its Unesco-listed Sado Mine. Assomo said the decision does not legally compel Japan to take any specific action. "Each state party that submits a site for inscription on the World Heritage List commits to implementing the decisions of the World Heritage Committee," he said. "When the committee adopts a decision, the concerned state party has already committed itself to implementing it and reporting on the results. The reporting mechanism allows us to monitor whether progress has been made. We do not have a system of obliging because countries commit themselves in its true dialogue and cooperation." When asked about his experience in Busan as the city is pushing for World Heritage inscription, Assomo ...

BUSAN — Additional getbol (tidal flats) of Korea were inscribed as a Unesco World Heritage site on Saturday in recognition of their rich biodiversity and important role as feeding grounds for migratory birds. The latest inscription is an extension of getbol's existing World Heritage listing made in 2021. The inscription was approved — without any proposed amendments from other state parties — at the 48th session of the World Heritage Committee at the plenary session held Saturday morning in Busan. "South Korea's marine ecosystem has now become a great heritage that the world must protect together," said Korea Heritage Service Administrator Huh Min, following the decision. "This inscription marks the beginning of our responsibility to pass this precious asset intact to future generations." Huh attended the plenary session in hanbok (traditional Korean clothing). Saturday's extension reconfigures the "Getbol, Korean Tidal Flats" listing as a serial property comprising six components: the Boseong-Suncheon-Yeosu-Goheung Getbol, the Shinan-Muan Getbol, the Muan Hamhaeman Getbol, the Gochang Getbol, the Seocheon Getbol and the Seosan Getbol. BY JIN EUN-SOO [[email protected]]

The Ministry of Unification, Hyundai Motor and Seoul's education office signed a deal to build Yeomyung School a campus it won't have to leave — closing out two decades of leases and rejection. For more than 20 years, Yeomyung School — the only accredited middle and high school in Seoul for young people with North Korean backgrounds — has been looking for a place to call its own. Now, it finally found one. Founded in 2004, Yeomyung has been bounced three times and even blocked once outright, when an entire Seoul neighborhood organized to keep it out. A memorandum of understanding signed Friday between the Ministry of Unification, Hyundai Motor Group, Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education and Yeomyung itself will fund a new, four-story building for the school in Gangseo District, western Seoul, on the site it currently shares with a shuttered public elementary school. Hyundai will contribute 6 billion won ($4.3 million) of the total 16 billion won project cost. The ministry and the Seoul education office are providing continued funding and the land itself, and Yeomyung's own nonprofit foundation is adding 10 billion won it raised over the years from 1,123 individual donors. For a school with a two-decade history of being asked to leave, the deal marks a genuine turning point — though, as its principal made clear, not quite the finish line. Yeomyung was founded by a coalition of Protestant churches to serve young North Korean defectors who struggle to keep up in South Korean society and its mainstream education. It moved to Myeongdong, in the shadow of Mount Namsan, in February 2008, gained formal accreditation for its high school curriculum two years later, and stayed 15 years. Its real trouble began in 2019, when it tried to buy government-owned land in Eunpyeong District, in northwestern Seoul, to build a permanent campus. Residents blocked it. Principal Cho Myeong-sook, who first encountered North Korean defectors in 1997 during her honeymoon in China, has worked at Yeomyung since its founding and led it since 2021. She recalled what she was told to her face during the Eunpyeong fight. "They told me directly they were worried property values would fall, and that their own children would end up mixing with ours," Cho told the Korea JoongAng Daily. "I couldn't understand it. Why would we affect anyone's property values?" After the plan collapsed, Cho — then the school's vice principal — took the fight public. "Where can our defector youth go," she wrote in an online petition, "when they don't even have a mother left to kneel and beg on their behalf?" It didn't work. The rezoning request stalled, and Yeomyung's lease in central Seoul ran out without a next address secured. Cho said students followed the backlash online despite being told not to. She recalled one calling her, crying, late one night after reading hostile comments under a news article about the school. "The student asked, '[We] risked our lives to get to South Korea — why are they telling us to go back?'" Cho said, tearing up at the memory. "I had no words. I just said I was sorry, and we cried together." Even Friday's deal took some convincing. The district office and the Seoul education office were initially reluctant to back a new push, mindful of what had happened in Eunpyeong. Their full support only came together in recent months. Yeomyung relocated to its current site — the first two floors of a public elementary school that closed in March 2020, as Korea's falling birthrate emptied its classrooms — in August 2023, a temporary arrangement whose usage permit runs out in February 2027, roughly two years before the new building is due to be finished. At the gate, a newer plaque for Yeomyung has been bolted on just below the old school's sign. Cho said she is hoping for a further extension to bridge the gap, and is counting, in part, on visibility to make officials less willing to say no this time. Hyundai, Korea's top automaker, reached out first aft...

Promoting the second season of the Disney+ series "A Shop for Killers" (2024–), actor Lee Dong-wook said that tougher action, new weapons and deeper emotions will raise the stakes. Actor Lee Dong-wook may have won audiences over with his deadpan personality on talk shows, but the attitude that he takes toward his work is anything but nonchalant. Talking about his latest project — the second season of the Disney+ series "A Shop for Killers" (2024–), which is packed with action-heavy sequences — Lee said that he's willing to keep at it until he's at least 60 years old. "There was a two-year gap between the first and second season of the drama, and I honestly did not feel that much of a difference in terms of my physical capacity and thought that I was up for more action scenes," the 41-year-old actor said in a recent roundtable interview in southern Seoul. "If I just cut down on drinking, I think that I can continue to participate in the project if there are more [seasons] in the future. Maybe until I turn 60?" Although taking on heavy action scenes can be physically burdening sometimes — Lee suffered a shoulder injury while filming the first season — he cannot complain, he said, because that's the process of expanding his range as an actor. Especially when his defining works, such as "My Girl" (2005) and "Guardian: The Lonely and Great God" (2016-17), have leaned toward the romance genre. "I think that handling challenging action sequences has expanded what I'm capable of as an actor and has given me another tool to work with," he said. "Whether I'm actually good at it or not is for others to judge, but at the very least, I think that people can now see me as an actor who knows how to use his body in a way that fits the character." To look convincing in his role, Lee said that he put on about 8 kilograms (18 pounds). "A Shop for Killers" is an action-packed drama following Jin-man, played by Lee, and his niece Ji-an, portrayed by Kim Hye-jun, as they take on the powerful mercenary organization Babylon. In the first season, the story centers on Ji-an, then an unassuming university student, as she finds herself battling professional killers after discovering that her uncle was, in fact, a high-profile arms dealer. The first season unfolds under the assumption that Jin-man died by suicide, only for him to be revealed as alive in the final episode. The second season shifts its focus to Jin-man, at least in its early episodes, uncovering what he had been doing behind the scenes while faking his death. Driven by intense action sequences and a fresh premise, the first season became Disney+'s most viewed Korean original series globally. It was also named one of the best TV shows of 2024 by The New York Times. Although a second season is usually good news, it comes with a persistent challenge of matching — or even topping — a successful first season, which is oftentimes unmet. Lee, however, is convinced that the new season will rise to the challenge. "First of all, the action has evolved," he said. If the first season hinged on a barrage of gunfights and brutal hand-to-hand combat sequences, the second season will include new weapons, new skilled characters and more. To start, in the first two episodes unveiled on Wednesday, a humanoid robot resembling the Terminator puts up a fierce fight with Jin-man. "We couldn't just imitate what had been done in the first season. As technology evolves, the weapons evolve with it. I think that the series reflects that progression as well," the actor said, adding that "stylish action" is one of the series's biggest strengths. Aside from the action sequences, the characters' emotional arcs are more vividly portrayed this season, he said. "In the first season, Jin-man appears as a cold, emotionless character who maintains his stoic face throughout the episodes, which is reasonable, considering his role to protect Ji-an and other circumstances," Lee said. "But in the second season, he will express...

The creative mind behind the performance turned limited space into a feast of tradition as the world gathers under one proverbial roof in Busan. Won Il, the director behind the opening ceremony at the 48th session of Unesco's World Heritage Committee on Sunday, said his vision was to create a stage that resembles "a pure white porcelain dish" that could complement any kind of cuisine — whether Korea's traditional banchan (side dish) or even steak. "We needed a stage that could go with any types of performances because we didn't have much time to change the stage design or move certain props," said Won in a recent roundtable interview in Busan. "The hall is not designed for performances but is optimized for conferences, and the duration of the show was also short, so we needed a stage that would look okay with any kind of performance. The performance, titled "Under the Sacred Roof: Echoes of Continuity and Peace," was performed in front of a delegation of some 1,000 audience members from around the world, with President Lee Jae Myung and first lady Kim Hye Kyung in attendance. "Since the committee's emblem takes its motif from the roof of Jongmyo Shrine, I wanted the overall stage concept to reflect that symbol as well — a roof that embraces humanity in all its conflicts while uniting us under the shared goal of protecting our heritage," he said, referring to the inspiration of the gathering's logo, a royal shrine in downtown Seoul. The performance had five parts, with the first one re-enacting the eomgo, a ceremonial drum ritual performed at the start of the Gyeongbokgung Palace Royal Guard Changing Ceremony at Gwanghwamun. "Since this committee was being held in Korea for the first time, I wanted to bring Gwanghwamun on stage to invite them in. Once the door is opened, I wanted to express a Korea that is very welcoming and has leadership. The concept of 'gate' was kind of crucial. The remaining four parts took on the titles of "The Gate of K," "The Gate of Peace," "The Gate of Reflection" and "The Gate of Harmony. "The Gate of K" brought forth a single dancer expressing the beauty and respect toward Korea's heritage. In the background, the 17 Unesco-listed Korean heritage entries were visualized through media art. "That part was the most time-consuming part while preparing the stage because we needed to research historical records of those 17 heritage sites so that they wouldn't appear with wrong details," he said. "We put extra work into it because we are showing it to the global audience. G-Dragon, a K-pop superstar who was appointed as the ambassador of the committee, took the stage midway to make a speech about protecting heritage. "I was personally moved by his sincerity and the values behind his foundation, the Juspeace Foundation, which seeks to contribute to the protection of cultural heritage and the promotion of peace," Won said. "I also heard that G-Dragon said he did not want to perform a song because the event was about heritage, not about him. I think his intention was simply to humbly convey the mission of the Juspeace Foundation and his desire to contribute to society and world peace. Won, a certified apprentice of piri jeongak (court music performed by traditional Korean double-reed instrument) and daechwita (Korean traditional military music), is known for putting an experimental modern spin on Korean traditional tunes. His personal work "Dionysus Robot," for example, infuses Korea's traditional tunes with electronic sounds to re-enact gut (Korea's shamanic ritual) on stage. For the opening ceremony, however, he chose not to. "I tried to stay true to tradition as much as possible because we are performing for a global audience who don't know much about Korea's tradition," he said. "In that case, it was important to deliver all the symbolism correctly. Won will also direct the committee's closing ceremony on July 29. For that occasion, he allowed his imagination to roam a little more freely. "It will be ...

The exhibition, set up in conjunction with Unesco's World Heritage Committee in Busan, invites visitors to see tradition like never before. BUSAN — Inside a darkened cube, a panoramic screen immerses visitors in a digital recreation of jerye, the grand royal ancestral rites performed during the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910). The digital exhibition draws on the uigwe, a collection of detailed royal protocols from the dynasty inscribed on the Unesco Memory of the World Register. At a neighboring booth, a towering LED monolith re-enacts the volcanic eruption that gave birth to Jeju Island and its lava tubes, one of Korea's two Unesco-listed natural World Heritage sites. "The technological level at this booth is unlike none other," says John Knightly of Ireland's state-run National Monument Service. "This is my fifth time participating in the World Heritage Committee, and there have been cases of putting technology upfront, but by far, this was the most fascinating, in terms of size and technology level." The exhibition titled "Heritage: Timeless Time" is part of the K-Heritage House set up at the 48th session of Unesco's World Heritage Committee, which kicked off in Busan on Sunday. Comprising 45 booths and experience zones, the exhibition introduces various aspects of Korea's heritage through technology, demonstration and performances. "The K-Heritage House is not just about introducing heritage, but also about introducing Korea's technological prowess," said Korea Heritage Service Administrator Huh Min in an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily done last month. "Digital exhibitions on Korea's tangible and intangible heritage will help visitors understand Korean heritage better." The first booth visitors encounter, an exhibition titled "K-Heritage Pavilion: A Story in Every Step," is a feast for both the senses and the mind. Built around the concept of Korea as a book, it invites visitors to various corners of the country to learn about its history, landscape and culture. The journey begins with a media art featuring the Petroglyphs along the Bangucheon Stream in Ulsan, including vivid images of whales carved into stratified rock cliffs. The site was inscribed on Unesco's World Heritage list last year. Visitors are then invited to enjoy Namdo Sori, a traditional vocal music genre originating in Korea's southern provinces. The experience continues with a multimedia portrayal of the changing seasons at Korea's mountain temples, known as sansa, combining media art, soundscapes and a stone Bodhisattva statue, evoking the tranquility of the sacred sites. A 3-D modeling exhibit about Korea's traditional architecture such as Geunjeongjeon, the main hall of Gyeongbok Palace in downtown Seoul or the Daewoongjeon hall at Bongjeong Temple in Andong allows visitors to trace not only the structure but the historical records of its restoration as well. "It uses a technology called Heritage Building Information Modeling, or HBIM, which helps us better understand the architecture of our heritage while also managing related data," a staff member at the booth said. "That information can then be used for preservation as well as restoration if a structure is damaged." Technology is not all there is at the K-Heritage House. Some corners encourage visitors to slow down. At the "Living Heritage" section, state-certified holders of National Intangible Cultural Heritage demonstrate their craftsmanship in person. Gang Sun-ja, who is a master of gannil, the process of making gat (Korea's traditional hat for men), was assembling gat with horse tail hair, one by one. It takes at least three months of work to make a single gat, she says. "It is a very arduous work," she said. Masters of 11 intangible cultural heritage, including traditional Korean embroidery and needlework, have participated to demonstrate their craft. Among the most popular attractions were the K-Heritage Store, which sold heritage-themed merchandise, and a booth operated by the Juspe...

Unesco heritage managers praised Ulsan's ancient rock carvings and XR presentation, while spotlighting the unresolved dam-related flooding that endangers the site. ULSAN — The towering, stratified cliff along the Bangu Stream and the ancient petroglyphs carved into its rock faces fascinated some 100 heritage experts from around the world who gathered at the site on Friday. "It's a fantastic site because of the landscape; where it's situated is truly fantastic," said Cyril Dworsky, an archaeologist, participating in the forum representing Austria. XR (extended reality) devices installed across from the cliff allowed visitors to examine even the faintest carvings in detail while comparing the digitally enlarged image with what was visible to the naked eye. "I really like the presentation made with high technology so that viewers can have the feeling of the site as well as the personal experience," Dworsky said. The visit was part of Unesco's Site Manager Forum, an official event held ahead of the opening of the World Heritage Committee session in Busan two days later on Sunday. The forum brought together managers and conservation experts responsible for World Heritage sites worldwide and took them to some of Korea's key heritage destinations, including Yangdong Folk Village and Oksan Seowon in Gyeongju. "When you get close to the cliff, it feels as if you have entered another world," explained Park Mi-hyun, a researcher associated with the Ulsan Metropolitan City. "Ancient people from some 7,000 years ago used this cliff as if it were one gigantic canvas." The Petroglyphs along the Bangucheon Stream, the name under which they are registered with Unesco, marked the first anniversary of their inscription as a Unesco World Heritage site this year. The property comprises two clusters of petroglyphs: one in Daegok-ri and the other in nearby Cheonjeon-ri. The Daegok-ri panel, which the site managers visited on Friday, features more than 300 engravings, including highly detailed depictions of various whale species, as well as a wide variety of marine and terrestrial animals. For the Korea Heritage Service, the forum host, it wasn't easy to choose the petroglyphs along the Bangu Stream as a forum destinations during the height of the monsoon season. Flooding repeatedly submerges the petroglyphs, threatening their preservation. A solution has yet to be found. The source of the problem lies at Sayeon Dam, about four kilometers (2.5 miles) downstream, which keeps the stream's water level relatively high. Built in 1965 — before the petroglyphs were discovered — the dam supplies more than 40 percent of Ulsan's drinking water and operates under an older natural overflow system without spillway gates. This makes lowering the reservoir's water level impossible until it reaches the overflow threshold of 60 meters. The petroglyphs, discovered in 1971, begin to be submerged when the water level reaches 53 meters (174 feet) and are completely submerged at 57 meters. Last year, the heritage site was submerged for 37 days. Over the past 25 years, various solutions have been proposed, including the construction of a movable dam and the diversion of the waterway. However, none of these proposals have materialized, as the interests of the Korea Heritage Service, Ulsan City, local residents and civic groups clash. "We could've just not disclosed this site to global site managers, but I have added this destination to the tour's schedule because I believe a forum like this could help in finding a solution," Korea Heritage Service Administrator Huh Min said on Friday. "There are heritage sites around the world going through a similar problem, like Spain's Cave of Altamira or the Petroglyphic Complexes of the Mongolian Altai. I hope the Bangu Stream's petroglyphs can serve as a model where heritage problems are solved through collaborations." The Korean government is pushing to build three floodgates at the Sayeon Dam, with a target completion ye...

As part of Kim Jong-un's tightly-controlled narrative, his daughter has inched toward center stage, delivering a new message with each act. Feb. 28, 2019, is a day North Korean leader Kim Jong-un will never forget. It is the date of the "no deal Hanoi summit," in which U.S. President Donald Trump walked out of negotiations in Vietnam, an insult the North Korean leader had never experienced before. Could Kim himself have ever imagined that, just over six years later, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the leaders of China and Russia at the viewing gallery of Tiananmen Square in Beijing in September last year? Kim's elevated strategic status is a reality. He is no longer in a hurry. Even if Trump sends another overture, his new position would be to casually ignore it. How did the young leader of Northeast Asia's poorest nation, once treated merely as a joke, reach his current position? What choices did Kim make to overcome the failure of the Hanoi summit, and how has North Korea changed as a result of those choices? How has this change altered South Korea's security environment? We must now deal with a Kim of a different caliber. That is why we must study him now. - Ed. At midnight on Jan. 1, as fireworks lit the sky over Pyongyang, North Korean leader Kim Jong-un leaned toward his daughter, Ju-ae, during a New Year's concert at Rungrado May Day Stadium and tapped her chair. Ju-ae immediately cupped his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek. What was stranger, though, was what she did immediately after. Before she had even settled back into her seat, she turned in the opposite direction and shot a quick glance at her mother, Ri Sol-ju. Her expression looked almost as if she was checking whether she had performed the scripted moment correctly. Ri simply smiled and kept applauding. That, in effect, was the full extent of Ju-ae's role that evening. Media around the world covered the scene, with analysts concluding that her standing as heir apparent had been further cemented. The kiss on the cheek even drew a headline from Daily NK Japan, a Tokyo-based outlet focused on North Korean affairs, calling it "strange behavior" that is "stirring controversy." There was a reason for the reaction. The leader's hands on his daughter's waist, the two so close they were nearly embracing — an unusual degree of physical closeness between a father and daughter. "The KCTV did not explain Ju-ae's identity or role, but what matters is that she is continuously being exposed to the public, raising her profile," assessed Atsuhito Isozaki, a professor at Japan's Keio University and a specialist on North Korea, in an interview with the Nikkei Shimbun in November. "She is being treated as someone special." What Pyongyang is trying to show through these displays of physical closeness is, in fact, proximity to power. North Korean state media are demonstrating that Ju-ae is the only person permitted to touch the supreme leader freely in public. No media outlet has transmitted Ju-ae's voice. Instead, she already signals power through her presence. Every element is meticulously staged. From her hairstyles to her clothing, everything exposed through North Korean state media is a propaganda instrument designed to solidify the narrative of Ju-ae as heir. When she first appeared in November 2022, she was defined by a white puffer jacket. The Ju-ae of 2026 sweeps in wearing a long leather coat, firing guns and driving tanks. The closer she is positioned to her father, the more overt the staging around her becomes. On the day the pair watched a performance with hands clasped together tightly, she wore on her chest not a pin with the face of North Korean founder Kim Il Sung but a vivid red flower. In North Korea, those exempt from wearing portrait badges of Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong-il — or, more recently, Kim Jong-un — have, until now, been essentially limited to the current leader himself and Ri. Yet Ju-ae has not worn a portrait badge of the supreme l...

As Korea looks to attract more foreign students, some say that inadequate English-language information and limited administrative support have delayed graduation and disrupted career plans. Korea's push to become a global education hub is attracting more international students, but many say universities are falling short where it matters most: administrative support. Interviews with international students at some of the country's major universities reveal recurring administrative problems, from incomplete English-language information and inconsistent graduation requirements to limited academic guidance and language support. Students say the shortcomings have caused confusion, delayed graduation and, in some cases, disrupted career plans. "Now I'm planning to attend medical school in Ireland, but I'm on the brink of having my admission canceled because my graduation has been delayed," said Alizeh Bhurgri, a Korea University student from the United States. "I tried to resolve the issue with the university, but nothing changed. I'm now pursuing the matter through the government's online civil petition system and a lawyer." "Looking back, I think it all started with a lack of information and administrative support," Bhurgri added. English information is often incomplete Many students said one of the biggest obstacles was finding accurate information. As part of the problem, international students pointed to inconsistencies between Korean- and English-language university websites. "It's really hard to find information we need on the English websites because they either provide different information or leave out details that are available on the Korean websites," said Hailey, who asked to be identified by her nickname. Hailey completed her undergraduate degree at Korea University and is now pursuing a master's degree at Yonsei University. "It makes it so much harder for international students to access the same information that Korean students have," she said. "So, we have to rely on translation tools many times, but we are not always sure if they are really correct." A comparison of the Korean- and English-language websites for Yonsei University's Department of Economics found that the English version contained outdated information and omitted some notices available on the Korean site. For example, the Korean website included a notice explaining course recognition and substitution requirements that could affect students' academic planning, while the English website instead displayed information about recipients of the department's 2022 economics awards in the same section. A similar issue was found on Korea University's international website. The university's international office directs students to individual department websites for more detailed academic information. However, the website for the College of Life Sciences and Biotechnology, for example, led to an unavailable page displaying the message, "This site can't be reached." 'There was no one to ask' When students could not find the information they needed online, many said they turned to university-hosted events for guidance, only to find themselves excluded from those opportunities. "It was during Covid-19, so I thought there was no orientation, but it turned out there was," said Kiki, a Hanyang University graduate who asked to be identified by her nickname. "As far as I know, most Korean students attended, but international students didn't because many of us didn't even know it was happening." "Once classes started, I could tell domestic students were much more informed because they had gone to those sessions," Kiki added. Other students said they also struggled to obtain information through interactions with professors and university offices. "Back in my home country, it's much easier to approach and discuss things with professors or academic advisers," Anthony, a Yonsei University student who also requested to be identified by his nickname, said. "But here, they...

Ahead of President Lee Jae Myung's state visit to Mongolia, Ambassador Sukhee Sukhbold outlines plans for deeper cooperation on rare earths, health, the environment and regional diplomacy. Seoul's ambassadors are often gastronomes keen to share a taste of their home cuisine. In this series, the Korea JoongAng Daily asks the diplomatic corps to introduce our readers to their favorite restaurants representing cuisine from their homelands, while chatting about issues of interest to our Korean and global audience. — Ed. President Lee Jae Myung arrives in Ulaanbaatar on Thursday for the first state visit by a South Korean leader to Mongolia in 15 years — a trip Mongolian Ambassador Sukhee Sukhbold has spent much of his post in Seoul quietly lobbying for. "[Since the last state visit,] exchanges continued, but most of them came from Mongolia. There had been no return state visit from South Korea, " Sukhbold said during an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily three days before the visit at Seoul Nomad, a newly-opened Mongolian restaurant in eastern Seoul. "That was my main focus." It's a visit that underscores an unusual balancing act. Mongolia has been one of South Korea's closest partners in the region for over three decades. But its ties with the North run even longer, and remain unbroken. Mongolia's embassy in Pyongyang, Sukhbold said, "has operated continuously without disruption, even through the pandemic," a legacy stretching back to the 1950-53 Korean War, when Mongolia took in and fed North Korean evacuees as other countries shuttered their missions. Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong-un's grandfather, visited the country twice. That history has made Mongolia something of a diplomatic bridge — a role it has tried to formalize through the annual Ulaanbaatar Dialogue, multilateral talks on regional security held since 2014, which South Korea's unification minister attended this year. It's also why Mongolia is periodically floated as a possible venue for a potential summit between North Korean leader Kim Jong-un and U.S. President Donald Trump. While nothing is set yet, Sukhbold said cautiously that if anything becomes more concrete, his government will stand ready to provide "logistics" or "whatever is needed" to host such talks. That position hasn't stopped Mongolia from embracing the South just as closely. Walk down a street in Ulaanbaatar today and the storefronts could almost be Seoul's: CU and GS25 convenience stores on the corners, Lotteria and Mom's Touch burger joints and Emart among the country's biggest retailers. The secret behind this commercial invasion, Sukhbold explained, goes far beyond business metrics — it is rooted in a shared identity and ancestral ties. "Maybe it's because we are connected by blood, or reconnected through culture," he said. "You will not see so many Chinese restaurants, even in the capital" — this in a country wedged between China and Russia. Sukhbold, a career diplomat who began as a junior official at the United Nations — and, before that, a child jockey — arrived in Seoul in 2024 as his first bilateral posting. Below are excerpts from the interview, edited for length and clarity. A. President Lee's visit will come 15 years after Lee Myung-bak paid a state visit in 2011. Since that time, exchanges have continued, but most of them came from the Mongolian side. We really appreciate that your president's office has accepted our invitation. Not only that — after 15 years, we also marked the 35th anniversary of our diplomatic relations last year. The "Golden Era of Korea-Mongolia Relations" Joint Declaration is expected to present a shared vision for Mongolia-Korea relations and provide a roadmap for advancing our strategic partnership in the years ahead. Traditionally and historically, in our own expression — even in Korean — when we have something unique, a different historical moment, we always compare it with gold. It's like a new era for cooperation, and it will be intensified. Our two lead...

Huh Min is a dinosaur expert. He even has a dinosaur named after him, thanks to his contributions to Korea's paleontology. That made his appointment as chief of the Korea Heritage Service last year quite unexpected. Many wondered what a scholar best known for studying prehistoric life could contribute to the agency overseeing the nation's heritage — especially since 2026 marks a critical milestone in South Korea's cultural diplomacy, with the country to host the 48th session of Unesco's World Heritage Committee in Busan. His paleontological background, however, is actually proving helpful. As a pioneer of dinosaur research in South Korea, Huh has spent at least 25 years working closely with Unesco to excavate, promote and preserve sites of dinosaur remains in the country. Notably, he led the inscription of fossilized dinosaur sites along South Korea's southern coast on Unesco's Tentative List of World Heritage sites in 2002. "People thought of Korea as a country without dinosaurs, but that perception changed after Korean scholars began publishing world-class papers," Huh said in an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily at the agency's headquarters in Daejeon on June 29. "The site on South Korea's southern coast was extremely well preserved, and I thought that it deserved greater global recognition, which is why I pushed for the listing." That same tenacity will be put to work when South Korea hosts the 48th session of the World Heritage Committee in Busan from July 19 to 29. This marks the first time that the nation has organized the event since becoming a member of the World Heritage Convention in 1988. Huh intends to use this year's forum as an opportunity to redefine how people view Unesco and the committee — not simply as a body that designates World Heritage sites, but as a global forum where experts come together to tackle the various challenges facing those sites today. South Korea, he believes, can lead that conversation. To put that ambition into action, Huh has a few concrete plans. Until now, the World Heritage Committee has been known largely for inscribing new World Heritage sites — a role that has at times drawn scrutiny regarding the system's legitimacy and relevance. "With wars such as the one in Afghanistan years ago and in Ukraine now, and with climate change slowly submerging small islands, cultural heritage is being destroyed — and a single country cannot fix that," he said. "Unesco can't keep saying 'preserve this [heritage]' or pointing out what's been done wrong. We must solve [the problem] together. That's why I'm proposing [adding] collaboration as a major agenda item at this session." His proposal will be put into practice first in South Korea when the committee convenes later this month. A multinational seminar on getbol, or mudflats, near the Yellow Sea will take place on July 25, with North Korea and China invited, Huh said. "It would be really nice to have North Korea attend, but if things don't work out, it would attend by video, according to the Unesco World Heritage Centre," he said. Huh envisions a discussion in which the three countries bordering the Yellow Sea's tidal flats consider ways to jointly research migratory birds' flight paths and wetlands to find better preservation methods. "We will discuss how to hand down World Heritage to future generations." China had its own tidal flats along the Yellow Sea coast and Bohai Gulf inscribed as a World Heritage site in 2019. North Korea, too, added its wetlands near Mundok County to its Tentative List earlier this year. "By discussing the getbol that extends from South Korea to North Korea and China […] we will examine not only the ecological excellence of the tidal flats and the science of their conservation but also our migratory birds' flyways — all while considering how we can hand down our World Heritage to future generations," Huh said. During the committee, South Korea's recently inscribed petroglyphs along the Bangucheon Stream ...

A new exhibition at the National Museum of Korea explores several millennia of Korean dining, from charred rice grains and royal banquets to ssam, seafood and the everyday habits that shaped modern K-food. What defines K-food? Is it the ingredients, the cooking method or the way it's presented? The National Museum of Korea offers its own answer at the recently opened exhibition "The Korean Table: Food, Nature and Life." From charred rice grains dating back 3,000 years to what are speculated to be pheasant eggs unearthed from a royal tomb, the exhibition looks back at the dining tables of our ancestors — tables that laid the groundwork for today's K-food wave sweeping the global culinary scene. "Now that K-food is consumed globally and has become a global trend, it felt like the right moment to lay out the roots and context of Korean cuisine through concrete materials," the National Museum of Korea said. "We designed this exhibition to show, through a diverse range of items spanning different eras and genres, that the roots of K-food lie in our everyday dining tables." The exhibition is divided into two sections, with the first part zooming in on "how" we have eaten and the latter part on "what" we have eaten. The first part opens with a simple question: "Have you eaten?" Following the question is a display of burnt rice grains resembling toasted coffee beans, dating back to the Bronze Age. It highlights that Koreans have had a bowl of rice on their tables for the past three millennia. Paintings like Kim Hong-do's "Rice Threshing" also indicate that rice served an important role for Koreans — not just as food, but as something that helped build community. Bronze dishware unearthed from the Tomb of King Muryeong of the Baekje era (18 B.C.–A.D. 660) shows that, although the design differed, people back then also used metal spoons and chopsticks. "A lot can be learned from the spoons and chopsticks of the past in Korea," said You Hong-jun, director of the national museum. "A lot of spoons were unearthed from the Goryeo dynasty, and that's because during that time, when a person passed away, a spoon and chopsticks were placed in their tomb for them to use in the afterlife. The decorations at their tips are also beautiful, reflecting how Koreans pursued beauty even in the way they ate." The dining tables of Joseon-era royals are also highlighted. A total of 45 kinds of dishes were prepared for the birthday party of Queen Sunwon (1789-1857), grandmother of King Heonjong (1827-1849). The painting documenting the party displays brassware and blue-and-white porcelain holding cakes, fruits, noodles, soups and steamed food next to elaborate floral decorations. The second part of the exhibition starts by highlighting Korea's seasonal cuisine. If the Joseon era had a matjip (good restaurant) map, it would look something like the book "Domundaejak," written by Heo Gyun in 1611. In "Domundaejak," Heo — best known for writing "The Tale of Hong Gil-dong" — wrote down the best dishes from every corner of Korea, which he could recall from memory after being exiled and allowed to eat only rough rice with hardly any side dishes. In the book, he mentions bangpung (a type of herb) porridge from Gangneung, jujubes from Boeun, whitebait from the Han River, radishes from Naju and abalone from Jeju Island. The practice of eating ssam (wraps) is an essential part of Korea's culinary culture, so much so that vegetables are hardly the only ingredients used for wrapping — so are thinly sliced rice cakes, gim (seaweed), onion and more. The practice of ssam has existed since at least the Joseon era. The "Seonghosaseolyuseon," a book written by 18th-century Joseon literati An Jeong-bok, provides a step-by-step description of how to make ssam. "You spread your left hand widely … and with the right hand, pick two pieces of thick and big sangchu [lettuce] … pick a spoonful of rice, roll it to make it like a rounded goose egg," the book reads. The museum ha...

If you suffer from a condition that traps you in the past, forgetting is no longer an option. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween season after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd became dangerously packed. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective crowd-control measures, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. I have PTSD. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and going on with daily life. If someone is hesitant to see a doctor, I hope this piece helps. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. Stay alive. Cling to even the smallest straw — and remember my name. Those are the lyrics from duo AKMU's "Fish in the Water" (2019). For the past two and a half years, this was the song I turned to whenever I found myself asking, "Why should I keep living?" I had always wondered what AKMU meant by saying we should hold on to even the smallest straw just to stay alive. I think I finally understand. It was so that I could remember you — the people in Itaewon in October 2022. Simply staying alive has become my way of remembering you that day. In some ways, I think developing PTSD after the Itaewon disaster in 2022 was inevitable. If you suffer from a condition that traps you in the past, forgetting is no longer an option. At first, I tried everything I could to erase my memories of the disaster. I believed that was how I would overcome the illness. I don't think that way anymore. Instead, I've chosen to live with those memories. I've come to accept that they are part of me and part of my life. Once I accepted this "cohabitation," it became a little easier to breathe. Then I found myself hoping that other people, too, would find something — even the smallest straw — to hold on to. That's what led me to begin this series. On June 1, I visited Seongsu-dong in Seongdong District, eastern Seoul. It was my day off. So I went to a Pokémon event, excited to enjoy the day. But then fear began to creep in as enormous crowds gathered early that morning. The narrow alleys packed with people immediately reminded me of Itaewon in October 2022. I later learned that around 40,000 people had gathered in that small Seongsu-dong neighborhood. After making my way out of the crowd, I found my phone filled with messages from people worried about my safety. Fortunately, police stepped in quickly, the event was called off early, and no one was hurt. Whenever I see situations like this brought under control before they become tragedies, I can't help but feel that my own sense of safety is returning, little by little. The Sewol ferry sank on April 16, 2014. The overloaded ship capsized in waters off the southwestern coast, leaving 304 people dead, mostly te...

As fall approaches, the specter of a tragedy and its possible reoccurrence lingers while the need for remorse, accountability, and social healing remains crucial. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. I have PTSD. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life. If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. What makes horror films truly scary comes from our intrinsic fear of the unknown. The suspense comes from not knowing when, where or what will appear next. People fear the unseen more than the monster standing in plain sight. A faint sound echoing through the darkness, a scene that is never fully explained or an inexplicable silence all ignite the imagination. And imagination often creates something even more terrifying. At its core, fear is born of the unknown. The same principle helps explain why, after a social disaster that leaves a society grappling with collective PTSD, people relentlessly demand the truth. A disaster whose cause remains unknown is not a monster that has already vanished — it becomes a specter, a possibility that could return at any time. If the cause of a tragedy and the chain of responsibility behind it are never fully uncovered, people cannot trust again that the system is understandable or predictable. They instead begin to question whether rules actually work, whether safety systems are reliable and whether anyone will act responsibly when danger arises. At that moment, society itself turns into a horror film. That is why uncovering the truth is about far more than revisiting the past. It is an attempt to end a state of uncertainty and bring fear back into the realm of what can be understood and controlled. Only when the cause of a tragedy is revealed, responsibility is established and safeguards are put in place to prevent it from happening again can people begin to let go of their fear. The same holds true for healing the post-traumatic stress left behind by a disaster. "Recovering a sense of safety" — that was how my psychiatrist described the goal of treating PTSD. Recovery begins with being able to believe once again that the world beneath your feet is a safe place. But that's not something I can do on my own. I never imagined that so many people would die on a street in the heart of Seoul on Oct. 29, 2022. Even now, it still doesn't feel real. But it happened, and I watche...

The National Museum of Korea opens its first large-scale Thai art exhibition on June 23, featuring rare masterpieces from 21 Thai national museums and free admission through June 30. Standing atop a lotus pedestal, the Buddha places his left foot forward while slightly lifting his right heel. His thin monastic robe appears to flutter like a feather, drawing viewers into a serene, contemplative state. This is the famed bronze Walking Buddha from 14th-century Thailand, one of the country's most beloved Buddhist sculptures. The 154-centimeter (5-foot) statue is known in Thai as "pang lila," meaning "graceful posture." While most Buddhist sculptures around the world depict the Buddha seated, reclining or standing still, representations of the Buddha seemingly walking through the air are unique to Thailand's Sukhothai period (1238–1348) and its artistic successors. The work is being shown in Korea for the first time. "Unlike Korea's Gilt-bronze Pensive Maitreya Bodhisattva, which expresses a world of contemplation, [the Walking Buddha] is a unique work of art that symbolizes the Buddha actively approaching sentient beings," said Noh Nam-hee, a curator at the National Museum of Korea. The National Museum of Korea in Yongsan District, central Seoul, will open an exhibition featuring 239 Thai artworks on June 23. The exhibition includes sculptures, paintings and traditional crafts from 21 national museums across Thailand, including the Bangkok National Museum. The works are featured in the special exhibition, "Amazing Thailand: Masterpieces of Thai Art," which is scheduled to run through Sept. 6. The exhibition was organized in partnership with Thailand's Fine Arts Department under the Ministry of Culture, through a memorandum of understanding that the National Museum of Korea signed in 2019. "As K-culture spreads around the world, our perspective of the world is changing as well," said You Hong-june, the director of the National Museum of Korea, in a press briefing on June 22. "We organized this exhibition out of the belief that our own culture should also become more inclusive." The National Museum of Korea has previously held three exhibitions on Vietnam, in 2008, 2014 and 2019, and one on Indonesia in 2005. However, this is the first large-scale exhibition dedicated to Southeast Asian art. As Korea's first comprehensive exhibition on Thailand, the show traces the country's civilization from prehistoric times to the present day. Thailand has also lent numerous rare and significant artifacts for the occasion. Among them is a large ninth-century Dvaravati boundary stone weighing 700 kilograms (1,543 pounds) that depicts devotees offering bundles of grass to the Buddha. Another highlight is a 46.5-centimeter sculpture created in 1481 during the Lanna Kingdom (1292–1775) that depicts Buddha leaving footprints. Dating from a later period than the 14th-century Walking Buddha, the work appears poised to lean forward, showcasing the creativity of Thai artisans. The former central gate of the Emerald Buddha Temple is also making its first trip overseas after years in storage at a Thai national museum. Other highlights include Sangkhalok ceramics decorated with fish motifs, which were exported to neighboring countries from the Sukhothai period onward. The works offer a glimpse into "the flexibility and inclusiveness of Thai culture, which stood at a major crossroads of East-West trade for centuries," according to curator Kwon Kang-mi in the National Museum of Korea. Crafts associated with Khon, Thailand's traditional masked dance drama, offer insight into the artistic patronage of the Rattanakosin Dynasty, which has ruled since 1782. The exhibition's space design was also intentional. The interior design was inspired by the red-brick walls of historic temples and the ornate decorations of royal palace corridors. Thailand is home to the second-largest Southeast Asian community in Korea after Vietnam and ranks as the fourth-most popular ...

A close reading of Kim Jong-un's body language and rhetoric shows how North Korea's leader rebounded from the 2019 Hanoi summit collapse to gain new leverage with China and Russia, reshaping South Korea's security environment. [A STUDY OF KIM JONG-UN 10] Feb. 28, 2019, is a day North Korean leader Kim Jong-un will never forget. It is the date of the "no deal Hanoi summit," in which U.S. President Donald Trump walked out of negotiations in Vietnam, an insult the North Korean leader had never experienced before. Could Kim himself have ever imagined that, just over six years later, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the leaders of China and Russia at the viewing gallery of Tiananmen Square in Beijing in September last year? Kim's elevated strategic status is a reality. He is no longer in a hurry. Even if Trump sends another overture, his new position would be to casually ignore it. How did the young leader of Northeast Asia's poorest nation, once treated merely as a joke, reach his current position? What choices did Kim make to overcome the failure of the Hanoi summit, and how has North Korea changed as a result of those choices? How has this change altered South Korea's security environment? We must now deal with a Kim of a different caliber. That is why we must study him now. - Ed. It was China's massive Victory Day celebration at Tiananmen Square in Beijing on Sept. 3 last year. North Korean leader Kim Jong-un, Chinese President Xi Jinping and Russian President Vladimir Putin stood side by side on the rostrum overlooking the 80th anniversary ceremony. Kim, finally taking the spot where his grandfather, a figure regarded almost as god-like in North Korea, had stood more than 70 years earlier, must have — in a single breath — felt the passage of eras. Progressives blame Yoon Suk Yeol for North Korea's hostility. But the enmity goes back further. Bright lights, red city: North Korean leader Kim keeps Pyongyang lit while the rest of the country remains in darkness 'Arms ablaze, they still charged': Ukrainian forces stunned by North Korea's 'meat assaults' As Kim Jong-un extends one hand, he beckons with the other for nuclear development Foreign media also took note of Kim standing as an equal alongside Xi and Putin. Bloomberg assessed that Kim's presence "marks another milestone in his transformation from isolated pariah to a global player benefiting from strengthened ties with his allies." Within the existing framework of North Korea-China-Russia solidarity, North Korea had been more of a dependent variable, buffeted by the strategic decisions of China and Russia. But now it has reinvented itself as an equal partner, shouldering one of the pillars of an anti-American coalition. What was particularly striking was the moment Kim gestured toward Xi and struck up a conversation as the DF-61 (Dongfeng-61) intercontinental ballistic missile passed during the military parade — a scene that encapsulated how dramatically Kim's standing had shifted in just a few years. Had it been the deferential Kim Jong-un of 2018, when inter-Korean, North Korea-U.S. and trilateral summits were in full swing, such an attitude toward Xi would have been unimaginable. In just seven years, everything about Kim Jong-un's demeanor toward Xi Jinping had changed — down to where his eyes focused and what they conveyed. Kim was saying with his body that he would no longer stand behind anyone or cast his eyes downward before them. An analysis of six North Korea-China summits found unmistakable shifts in the way Kim carries himself before Xi. Kim Yeo-jeong, CEO of Jium & Gitdeum, a personal branding research institute specializing in nonverbal behavior, assessed that "Kim Jong-un's attitude toward Xi has gradually shifted from a junior seeking support to an equal strategic partner." From behind Xi to beside him The JoongAng Ilbo, together with Jium & Gitdeum, conducted a focused analysis of the interactions between the two leaders across six summits — begi...

The boy band launched its first Asia tour with two concerts, showcasing its signature youthful energy alongside new unit performances that revealed the group's growing musical range. Youth was prevalent in every form possible at K-pop boy band TWS's kickoff concert for its Asia tour at the KSPO Dome in Songpa District, southern Seoul, on Sunday. There was the bubbly kind, the grungy kind, the romantic kind and, of course, the emotional kind. Whichever form it took, however, it sure drew deafening roars from its fans, collectively known as 42, a homonym for the Korean word for relationship. The tour, titled "24/7:FOR:YOU," marks the six-member band's debut at KSPO Dome, a venue widely regarded as a milestone for K-pop acts because of its sizable 15,000-seat capacity. TWS, only two and a half years into its career, managed to sell out both of its shows at the dome on Saturday and Sunday, according to its agency, Pledis Entertainment, a label under HYBE. "It is our first concert at the KSPO Dome, which makes this concert much more meaningful," said TWS leader Shinyu. "It's all because of you guys '42!" TWS member Dohoon also likened the KSPO Dome debut to something he had always "dreamed of," adding that "of the maybe 18,000 people gathered here, I'm probably the most excited." The concert opened with the six members — Shinyu, Dohoon, Jihoon, Hanjin, Youngjae and Kyungmin — making a dramatic entrance as they descended onto the center stage from inside screens designed to resemble a giant gift box. As the ribbon unraveled on the screen, the members emerged in Prince Charming-style jackets studded with crystals. In the opening set, featuring tracks such as "hey! hey!" (2024), "Overdrive" (2025) and "overthinking" (2025), TWS did what it does best: embracing youth. With upbeat rhythms, harmless lyrics and playful choreography — including the signature shoulder-shaking move from "Overdrive" — the group's trademark bubbly energy was on full display. The mood shifted, although not for long, when the six members unveiled unreleased tracks as units. Jihoon and Kyungmin staged a high-octane rock-infused track titled "Shift," where the duo utilized handkerchiefs for a charismatic choreography. Admitting to being "extremely nervous" for the stage, the duo said they put real effort into putting together this performance by researching everything down to the fabric of the handkerchiefs. Youngjae and Hanjin sang a ballad called "To You Who Have Endured Long Night" (translated), which both members participated in composing and writing the lyrics to. The lyrics reflect upon their hard days as trainees, Hanjin said, especially as a member having come over from China. The standout among the unit performances was undoubtedly Shinyu and Dohoon's "How Did You Do That," a hard-hitting hip-hop track that showcased a completely different side of TWS. Grungy styling, swagger-filled choreography and cocky lyrics were a far cry from the group's signature youthful image but at the same time exactly the kind of unexpected transformation fans had been eager to see. Throughout the more than three hours of show time, TWS's moves, vocals and interaction with the 42s were without flaws. Notably, the live vocals matched so perfectly with the record that it almost felt like lip-syncing. The heavy breathing after each performance was the only "flaw" proving they were live singing the songs. As the members made final comments, Shinyu and Jihoon broke down in tears in appreciation towards the members and fans for making this moment possible. "Thank you for being my dream," Shinyu said. TWS is scheduled to perform 15 shows across eight Asian cities over the coming months, with its next stop set for Fukuoka, Japan, from Aug. 28 to 30. BY JIN EUN-SOO [[email protected]]

A decade-long analysis of North Korean state media suggests Pyongyang 's break with Seoul started after the collapse of the 2019 Hanoi summit, when liberal South Korean President Moon Jae-in was in office. [A STUDY OF KIM JONG-UN 9] On the night of Sept. 19, 2018, at the Rungrado 1st of May Stadium on Rungra Island in Pyongyang, then-President Moon Jae-in stood before 150,000 cheering North Koreans. After watching a mass games performance, Moon took the stage at the introduction of North Korean leader Kim Jong-un. His face was flushed with emotion. A smile spread across his face, reflecting both the elation of having personally steered the Korean Peninsula to what appeared to be the pinnacle of peace and the optimism that accompanied it. Moon embraced the deafening cheers reverberating through the enormous stadium. His roughly seven-minute speech was interrupted by applause 12 times. When he declared, "Kim Jong-un and I have pledged to make our beautiful land, from Mount Paektu to Mount Halla, a permanent home of peace free from nuclear weapons and nuclear threats, and pass it on to future generations," the stadium once again erupted in thunderous applause. That night, North and South Korea appeared united, and Moon's dream seemed on the verge of becoming reality. But the cheers of that day turned into insults just 11 months later. "It is enough to make even a boiled cow's head burst into laughter." This statement, made in August 2019 by a spokesperson for North Korea's Committee for the Peaceful Reunification of the Fatherland, a state agency that aimed to promote reunification, stunned both the Moon administration and the South Korean public. The statement went on to deride Moon as a "shameless person" and someone who was "laughable beyond measure." A day earlier, Moon had promoted the idea of a "peace economy" in his Liberation Day speech on Aug. 15. Pyongyang responded by mocking him, using South Korea-U.S. joint military exercises as a pretext. As a prolonged period of strained inter-Korean relations followed, the phrase "boiled cow's head" became an enduring label attached to assessments of the Moon administration's North Korea policy. In retrospect, the episode also served as a chilling foreshadowing of Kim 's doctrine of severing ties with South Korea and redefining it as an enemy. Some in South Korea's progressive camp argue that the hardline North Korea policy of the subsequent Yoon Suk Yeol administration laid the groundwork for Pyongyang's "hostile two-state" doctrine. One typical view, articulated by Jeong Tae-heung, head of policy at a research institute affiliated with South Korea's left wing Progressive Party, is that "the United States has been strengthening its New Cold War strategy, and the Yoon administration followed suit by intensifying hostile policies toward North Korea," and that this "became the direct cause of North Korea's declaration of a hostile two-state relationship and the resulting escalation of war risks." Given that Kim first unveiled the hostile two-state doctrine at a Workers' Party plenary meeting at the end of 2023 and that inter-Korean tensions remained elevated throughout the Yoon administration, the argument appears persuasive. But was Kim's declaration of a "struggle against the enemy" really nothing more than a passive response to policy changes in Seoul? Big data tells a very different story. Language data showed that the watershed moment in the breakdown of inter-Korean relations occurred not under the Yoon administration, but during the Moon administration. There was also a reason Kim later doubled down on the enmity, even after the inauguration of the current Lee Jae Myung administration, by declaring that South Korea was "the most hostile state" and by expressing a sense of betrayal in rhetoric suggesting that it made little difference whether Seoul was governed by — in the words of Kim 's powerful sister, Kim Yo-jong — those "claiming to be democrats" or those "wearing t...

What was once career kryptonite, at least for a year and a half or so, is now little more than an inconvenience for fans as celebrities go into enlistment with stockpiles of content. For most K-pop stars, mandatory military service brings careers to a screeching halt, at least temporarily. Park Ji-hoon, however, isn't dreading the pause in the slightest, even as he begins to reach new heights. The idol-turned-actor is enjoying some of the busiest days of his career, coming off the back-to-back success of the film "The King's Warden" and the recently wrapped comedy series "The Legend of Kitchen Soldier." But conscription is fast approaching. Like all able-bodied Korean men, Park must eventually serve. Rather than push the deadline as far back as possible, however, the 27-year-old says he will enlist voluntarily, even though he could delay his service until 2027, with hopes of joining the Marine Corps, which has a lower maximum age for recruits. "I'm not really afraid of the military hiatus," Park told reporters during an interview on June 2. These days, he said, actors and idols often prepare for the absence by filming projects in advance. "When those projects air while they're serving, people sometimes get the feeling of, 'Wait, he's already back?'" he said with a smile. Park has yet to settle on detailed plans, but that, he said, would be the ideal scenario. His ease reflects a broader shift across Korea's entertainment industry. For male entertainers in Korea — especially K-pop idols — mandatory military service has long been one of the industry's most dreaded disruptions, both for stars and their fans. A hiatus once meant a near-total absence — no performances, no fan meetings and no steady stream of content, as soldiers are barred from profit-making activities while in service. But the landscape has changed. Military service no longer necessarily means disappearing from public view. Instead, it has produced a new kind of hiatus — one carefully filled with prerecorded songs, filmed content, social media posts, documentaries and behind-the-scenes footage, all planned like part of a promotional schedule. The result is a pause that feels less absolute, helping stars stay present in the minds of fans until they return. Boy band Seventeen's Hoshi enlisted in the Army on Sept. 16 last year, three months after turning 29. Yet on June 15 of this year, while still serving, the idol-turned-soldier released a new single, "Snap Back," a self-written pop track, marking his 30th birthday. According to behind-the-scenes footage released later, Hoshi recorded the song on June 12 of last year, almost exactly a year before its release, as part of a broader stockpile of content prepared for his hiatus, which is scheduled to last until March 15 of next year. Korea's Framework Act on Military Status and Service bars soldiers from engaging in any work for profit other than military duties, but when albums, dramas, variety show appearances, social media posts and behind-the-scenes footage are planned, contracted, recorded or filmed before enlistment, agencies can release them later, even while the artists themselves are physically serving on military bases. That distinction has become increasingly important as more stars remain visible during service. In March, Fantagio, the agency of idol-turned-actor Cha Eun-woo, had to clarify that a photo exhibition in Japan scheduled during his military service did not violate the rules. The agency said the exhibition had been contracted in August 2024, before Cha's enlistment in July of last year, and that it had confirmed the matter with the Ministry of National Defense in advance. Cha himself would not attend the event, the agency said. While the Korean public now relatively readily accepts the release of content during stars' conscription, the boundary was less settled a few years earlier. EXO's Baekhyun, who served as a social agent from May 2021 to February 2023, prepared enough YouTube content ...

Hidden triggers, from abandoned shoes to the Jeju Air crash, continued to reopen my trauma. But treatment helped me endure. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. I have PTSD. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life. If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. When I was young, there was an old computer game called Minesweeper. It was simple. Players clicked squares one by one while trying to avoid hidden mines. The tension came from not knowing where the mines might be; you could spend minutes carefully navigating the board, only for a single thoughtless click to bring everything crashing down. My life after PTSD became much like that game. But unlike the game, there were no warning signs of latent mines. On the surface, it looked like any other ordinary day. But lived never knowing when or where I might step on a hidden mine. No matter how careful I was, they appeared where I least expected them. A scene I would normally pass without a second thought or an object I once considered insignificant could suddenly turn my world upside down. In an instant, I would find myself back in the past. For people with PTSD, these everyday mines are called triggers. A trigger is anything that brings a traumatic memory rushing back and makes a person relive it. Triggers are deeply personal. What seems insignificant to people can be overwhelming for someone living with PTSD. I also had to confront my own triggers. From shoes appearing in films to the Jeju Air disaster, certain reminders were impossible to avoid, pulling me back and forth between the present and the past. There were times when I felt overwhelmed by the fear that I was being dragged back to the very beginning of the Itaewon disaster all over again. This article contains references to the October 2022 Itaewon disaster and the December 2024 Jeju Air crash. Descriptions of disaster scenes, rescue efforts and emotional and physical reactions may cause distress or psychological discomfort for some readers. If you have experienced similar events or are currently struggling emotionally, consider taking a break from reading or seeking support. Professional help is available through mental health clinics and counseling services. A trigger can be anything from a single object to a whole situation. For someone who survived a car accident, items inside a vehicle...

*The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. I have PTSD. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life. If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. Identifying the illness was only the first step; treatment was the next, much harder one, sending on a winding road as I tried different activities in search of stillness and catharsis. The one thing I held onto throughout my long struggle with PTSD was consistency. Yes, my partner and friends were always there for me, and yes, I went to the hospital once or twice a month. But no one could be by my side all the time. In other words, most of the time, I was alone. When I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe for no specific reason, I had to handle it on my own. To deal with the symptoms that appeared out of nowhere, I had to consistently find coping strategies that worked for me. So I tried everything I could think of. Meditation, futsal, running and donating to charity. I tried to move more, calm my mind and even tried to do something good. But those efforts did not always work. And this is only my story. Even among people with the same condition, effective coping mechanisms differ from person to person. I discussed every method I tried with my psychiatrist because I wanted to know whether I was heading in the right direction. There was one thing that never seemed to work for me: meditation. In fact, meditation was the first thing my psychiatrist recommended, saying it could help relax a body stuck in a perpetual state of high alert. The recommendation was so sincere that the doctor even wrote down instructions by hand and gave them to me on a note. Grateful for the effort, I tried several times. But each attempt ended in failure. The technique I was encouraged to practice was mindfulness meditation, which involves letting thoughts pass by and focusing on present sensations and emotions. The problem was that I could never simply let thoughts go by. Once I held onto one, it led to another, then another. And when I finally managed to clear my mind, I fell asleep instead. Rather than becoming quieter, my mind became even noisier. I even attended meditation classes, but in the end, it just was not for me. That said, numerous studies suggest mindfulness meditation can be beneficial for people with PTSD. Mindfulness-based therapy can significantly reduce avoidance, hyper...

Seoul's Gold Pig Restaurant has become Korea's most coveted barbecue spot through premium pork, exacting grill technique and a celebrity following from BTS to Donald Trump Jr. BTS, G-Dragon, Blackpink and IU. These A-list K-pop stars have all been spotted dining at this place. The list doesn't end there. Hollywood actors Chris Hemsworth and James Franco, American rapper Kanye West and British football icon David Beckham have all been there. More recently, Donald Trump Jr. was seen dining there. So what is this outrageously coveted spot? It's the Gold Pig Restaurant, a Seoul barbecue diner renowned for its premium pork cuts. There are countless decent samgyeopsal (pork belly) restaurants in Seoul, but none match the fame of Gold Pig. You'll end up waiting behind 30 or more teams whenever you go, even if you arrive before opening time or on a slow day. The restaurant does not take reservations, meaning the only way to secure a table is to get in line and wait. The Gold Pig is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. What started out humbly on the first floor of a three-story building in Yaksu-dong, a gritty neighborhood in central Seoul, now occupies the entire building. Despite the expansion, the eatery still can't accommodate all the customers who want a seat. "The meat quality of our restaurant is undoubtedly top-notch, but what I believe makes the difference at a barbecue restaurant is the grilling technique," said Park Soo-kyung, founder and CEO of Gold Pig Restaurant. "We pay the most attention to staff training. If they don't understand the grill and fire, I don't believe they can serve the customers." Their signature cuts are "Bone Pork Belly" and "Pork Neck." Pork Neck requires skill when grilling because it has little fat. Even when slightly overcooked, it can get overly firm and dry. Park's path to building one of Korea's most sought-after barbecue joints was not easy. In her 20s, she began by selling fruit juice at Dongdaemun Market. Over the next six years, she tried her hand at some 20 different businesses before eventually finding success with the samgyeopsal restaurant. "When working in a market, you instantly notice what people like and where they gather. Feedback there is also very fast," the 41-year-old said. "When I have an idea, I have to do it to see how it turns out. It's my personality." The last job she had at the market was delivering samgyeopsal to vendors. "They didn't have time to go to a restaurant to grab lunch or dinner, so I figured I would deliver pork barbecue when it was still warm. The business was a success. It earned me enough money to pay back some 200 million won [$130,000] of debt I had and a little more to start another business." This last business gave her an opportunity to gain a deep understanding of the meat. Afterward, she continued to perform extensive research into it. The result of those years of experimentation and research is evident in every aspect of Gold Pig Restaurant — from its grill plates and ventilation system to its rigorous staff training, carefully selected cuts of meat and thoughtfully curated side dishes. One of the Gold Pig's signature touches is serving its pork with fresh basil leaves. In Korea, basil is more commonly associated with Western dishes such as salads, pasta and pizza. But Park thought outside the box. Park says basil leaves were her hidden weapon even before opening the restaurant. She has done multiple tests with various herbs and green leaves, including coriander, but basil leaves were the perfect match. "I first discovered the pairing while traveling in Thailand," she said. "That's where I learned that basil enhances the flavor of grilled meat. The herb's aroma refreshes the palate after a bite of rich pork, but what I really love is grilling the basil itself. Once it hits the heat, the fragrance is simply incredible." The Gold Pig recently added hanwoo (high-end Korean beef) skirt steak and hanwoo yukhoe (raw sliced meat) to its men...

In an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily, Norway Ambassador to Korea Anne Kari Hansen Ovind discussed Koreans' appetite for Norwegian seafood, the two countries' growing bilateral ties in defense and Arctic research, and how to build democratic trust. Seoul's ambassadors are often gastronomes keen to share a taste of their home cuisine. In this series, the Korea JoongAng Daily asks the diplomatic corps to introduce our readers to their favorite restaurants representing cuisine from their homelands, while chatting about issues of interest to our Korean and global audience. — Ed. Norway's ambassador to Korea was once on the path toward a very different career. Anne Kari Hansen Ovind competed as a junior speed skating champion — even training with the Norwegian national team — until an injury cut her days on the ice short and directed her to years of study abroad and, eventually, the Norwegian foreign service. "Through sports, doors open to the rest of the world," Hansen Ovind told the Korea JoongAng Daily in an interview on June 12. "By traveling and competing internationally at a young age, my interest in other people, other countries, foreign languages and what is outside of Norway truly began." For a Norwegian ambassador, seafood is among the most powerful tools of public diplomacy. Korea is Norway's second-largest seafood market in Asia, and Hansen Ovind traces the demand to a natural fit: Norway's cold, clean Arctic waters produce fish of exceptional quality for a consumer base that knows the difference. "I think I was surprised by how Koreans are embracing those products," she said. "In every shop with fresh seafood, I see Norwegian seafood brands," nothing that she "immediately" recognizes "the Norwegian mackerel with its tiger stripes" at markets and restaurants as well. Ovind sat down with the Korea JoongAng Daily at Lofoten by Longboat Smoker in Mapo District, western Seoul, to discuss topics ranging from Norway's seafood strategy and Arctic governance to the challenge of protecting democratic trust in an age of artificial intelligence. The Korea-Norway bilateral relationship did not begin with salmon. Norwegian shipowners have been ordering vessels from Korean yards since the late 1970s, and Hansen Ovind said that history quietly built something more durable than trade volume. "We have a very solid foundation in the maritime sector, where trust [between our countries] has been built year by year, project by project," she said. "And that trust is what we see now broadening more into cooperation in green shipping, the energy sector, the defense sector [and] an interesting growth in demand for Nordic design and Nordic style." The speed skater-turned-diplomat has never stopped competing. While serving as the ambassador to Canada, she completed a 52-kilometer (32.3-mile) cross-country skiing marathon five times in temperatures as low as minus 20 degrees Celsius (minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit). In Seoul, she has made an annual ski competition at Pyeongchang's Olympic slopes a regular fixture in her routine and recently crossed the finish line of a 5-kilometer marathon race in 27 minutes. Below are excerpts from the interview, edited for length and clarity. A. In Norway at the moment, we are facing a very serious security situation. It's a war in Europe, and we are investing in all sectors of our defense. In the procurement process, the Korean system delivered on all factors: delivery, the time for delivery and also […] within the budget. Norway has already purchased the K9 self-propelled howitzer, and our logistics ship, KNM Maud, was produced in Korea. So we are now continuing to cooperate with Korea in many […] aspects. I'm very hopeful that we are now embarking on a process toward a strategic partnership that will cover a lot of different areas. We value Korea's constructive contribution and participation very much. In the area of research — climate change research and marine livelihood research — we are truly ve...

[A STUDY OF KIM JONG-UN 6] North Korea's approach to quarantine during the Covid-19 pandemic was brutally straightforward. Anyone displaying symptoms, arriving from overseas or coming into contact with either group was designated a "medical surveillance subject" and placed under isolation. "Quarantine is a polite way of putting it," one North Korean defector recalled in testimony obtained by Amnesty International and other human rights organizations. "People were simply rounded up, separated and locked away. There was no support. If they died, they died. They were left to fend for themselves." Another defector described isolation as little different from a death sentence. "The state had neither money nor medicine," the source said. "Being quarantined was practically the same as being dead. Those who survived, survived. Those who died were buried. That was how it was handled." Sources familiar with North Korean affairs said quarantine often led to death not only from disease but also from starvation. Some people reportedly died after being confined for extended periods with little access to food. Those caught trying to escape were sometimes confined by nailing doors shut from the outside. It was a period so severe that North Korean leader Kim Jong-un described it as the country's "greatest upheaval since its founding." Yet even as the crisis deepened, Kim rejected offers of foreign vaccine assistance. Instead, state propaganda promoted folk remedies, including drinking willow-leaf infusions three times a day. The harsh response reflected a broader shift in Kim's priorities after the collapse of the Hanoi summit in February 2019. For Kim, the failed negotiations with the United States after the 2019 Hanoi summit were more than a diplomatic setback. His immediate concern became restoring the supreme leader's authority after a public blow to his prestige. Rather than focusing on treatment or mitigation, the regime prioritized total control. Kim sought to reestablish himself as an unrivaled figure, one capable of surpassing not only foreign adversaries but also the legacies of his father and grandfather. That transformation is visible in the language of North Korea's state media. A joint analysis conducted by the JoongAng Ilbo and AI-based big data firm Speechlog examined all 137,513 articles published in the Rodong Sinmun, the North's ruling Workers' Party newspaper, between January 2016 and January 2026. The study analyzed more than 18 million words to trace changes in Kim's rhetoric and the regime's messaging. Because the Rodong Sinmun functions as North Korea's primary domestic propaganda outlet, its language reflects not what citizens want to hear but what Kim wants them to hear. One of the most notable findings involved the word suryong, or "Great Leader." During the period of summit diplomacy between Kim, U.S. President Donald Trump during his first term and then-South Korean President Moon Jae-in, from 2018 through February 2019, the term appeared 12,601 times in the Rodong Sinmun. Following the collapse of the Hanoi summit, the figure surged to 34,694 mentions between 2019 and 2022. The increase was significant, but the shift in meaning was even more telling. Before Hanoi, suryong referred exclusively to North Korea's founder Kim Il Sung (1912-1994) — Kim Jong-un's grandfather. Beginning in 2020, however, the title started to be applied to Kim Jong-un himself. Usage accelerated sharply after the Eighth Workers' Party Congress in January 2021. Kim Jong-il (1941-2011), Kim Jong-un's father, only received the title after his death. Kim Jong-un effectively granted it to himself at age 36. In doing so, he elevated himself into the ranks of his predecessors while simultaneously beginning to separate himself from them. The analysis divided Kim's rule into four distinct periods: the nuclear-focused years of 2016 and 2017; the summit diplomacy era from 2018 through February 2019; the post-Hanoi and Covid-19 period from 2019 to ...

PTSD can take years to rear its head, and when it does, society plays a considerable role in healing. Sometimes, however, support is lacking, and sometimes, that's deliberate. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. I have PTSD. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life. If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. It's no different from a traffic accident. They went there for fun and died. I had always assumed that the natural response of Korean society to a major tragedy was mourning. I thought that was simply how people should react. But after witnessing the secondary harm that surfaced after every major disaster — from when the Sewol ferry sank in 2014 to the Itaewon crowd crush in 2022 and the Jeju Air crash in 2024 — I began to wonder if that assumption was wrong. The Sewol ferry sank on April 16, 2014. The overloaded ship capsized in waters off the southwestern coast, leaving 304 people dead, mostly teenagers on a high school trip. At times, I even found myself questioning whether hate spreads in the same way mold slowly takes over a home. My heart would race and I would feel nauseous whenever I saw people turning others' suffering into entertainment or exploiting it for political gain. No matter how much love and support I received from those around me, a single hateful comment could send my PTSD back to square one. Moments like those always remind me of one thing: People are capable of helping one to stand up again, but they are also capable of destroying them. The same is true of society. Many experts say that what helps people endure PTSD — and eventually recover from it — is society itself. Shortly after the Itaewon disaster in 2022, my company informed me that psychological counseling and treatment would be available. A Jeju Air passenger plane from Bangkok crashed into a concrete mound at Muan International Airport in Muan County, South Jeolla, while attempting an emergency belly landing on Dec. 29, 2024. The accident killed all but two crew members on board. Around the same time, the Journalists Association of Korea announced that it would also provide financial support for counseling and treatment. Later, journalists dispatched to Muan County in South Jeolla following the 2024 Jeju Air crash were offered similar mental health support. Those experiences strengthened my trust in my organiza...

After the illness entered my life, it was my psychiatrist who held me together inside the consultation room. Outside the clinic, it was the handful of people who knew about my illness — my partner and close friends — who kept me going. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. I have PTSD. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life. If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. What did the doctor say today? Whenever I returned from a visit to my psychiatrist, my partner would always ask the same question. No matter how rambling my answer was, my partner listened until the very end. As I spoke, my partner would often respond with words of empathy. "I'm glad you told the doctor that," my significant other would say, or "What did the doctor say about it?" On days when I was too exhausted to keep talking, my partner would simply say, "You can tell me another time." For a long time, I believed I could live perfectly well on my own. As long as I could support myself financially, I thought I could get by without family, friends or a partner. That was before PTSD pulled me down. After the illness entered my life, it was my psychiatrist who held me together inside the consultation room. Outside the clinic, it was the handful of people who knew about my illness — my partner and close friends — who kept me going. I wasn't going through it alone. I was able to continue moving forward with the illness because of their care and love. For people living with mental illness, the attitudes of those around them can be just as important as professional treatment. Some people help you stay standing. Others make you stumble. "Did you take your medication?" I didn't need a phone alarm to tell me to take my medication because my partner would ask every night before going to bed. As we lived far apart and my family did not know about my condition, my partner was the one who consistently took on the responsibility to check in on me. From the Itaewon crowd crush that triggered my PTSD to my first psychiatric appointment and every moment since, my partner witnessed my entire journey more closely than anyone else. My partner was also the first person — and most persistent — to insist that I seek professional help. Watching me sinking into guilt, anxiety and depression, they convinced me that I needed expert care more than anyone else c...

For a long time, I wondered why I reacted so strongly to things that seemed minor. It was only through treatment and time that I realized it was not a matter of willpower; it was a consequence of physical changes in the brain. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. I have PTSD. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween season after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd became dangerously packed. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective crowd-control measures, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and going on with daily life. If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. "How can a person do something like that?" After forcing out those words, all I could do was cry silently. Tears streamed down my face. My doctor pushed a box of tissues toward me across the table without saying a word. I cried for the first time in my doctor's office on Dec. 13, 2024, despite having visited countless times before. I didn't even shed a tear when I talked about my PTSD symptoms. Four days earlier on Dec. 9, 2024, Lee Sang-min — the then Minister of the Interior and Safety — had stepped down from office. In his farewell message, he wrote, "Every moment was truly happy." Those words, coming from one of the key officials held responsible for the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022, hit me harder than I expected. Hearing what felt like a statement devoid of responsibility only deepened my pain. During my appointment, I began talking about him and suddenly found myself overwhelmed by emotion. PTSD is an illness of memories, but it is also an illness of emotions. Guilt, fear, anxiety, depression, helplessness, sadness and anger — these negative emotions are amplified as if someone has turned a loudspeaker toward them. I do not feel these emotions every moment of every day. But sometimes they rise unexpectedly to the surface and take hold of me. Fortunately, medication has helped me keep them under control. The following story contains descriptions related to the Itaewon disaster of October 2022. Some readers may find references to disaster scenes, rescue efforts and emotional or physical reactions from the time distressing or psychologically unsettling. If you have experienced a similar trauma or are currently struggling emotionally, we encourage you to stop reading or seek support if needed. Assistance is available through nearby psychiatric clinics or mental health counseling centers. PTSD is not simply a state of heightened emotional sensitivity. For a long time, I wondered why I reacted so strongly to things that seemed minor. It was only through treatment and time that I realized i...

For many K-pop listeners, ONF's name is tied first and foremost to its music — polished, melody-driven songs that have earned the boy band a reputation for bright, lyrical pop with an unmistakably K-pop sound. With its latest album, "ONF: My Self," the sextet stays true to that identity with its lead single "Open The Door," a surging effort that captures the rush of emotion felt at the moment of opening a door to an unknown future. "When I first heard our lead track, 'Open the Door,' I thought it was the epitome of K-pop," member Wyatt said during a press showcase for "ONF: My Self," a six-track release the group describes as the second part of its second full-length album, held in western Seoul on Wednesday. "It's a song about that fleeting moment when we open the door to an unseen future amid the uncertainty of the present," Wyatt said. "As I wrote the lyrics about the emotions felt in that instant, I found myself relating to them a lot." ONF debuted in 2017 with the EP "On/Off." The sextet, comprising members Hyojin, E-Tion, Seungjun, Wyatt, Minkyun and Yuto, is best known for songs like "Complete" (2018), "Why" (2019), "Beautiful Beautiful" (2021), "Love Effect" (2023) and "The Stranger" (2025). The second part of "ONF: My Self" continues from the first half of the group's second full-length album, "ONF: My Identity," released in February last year. The album also marks the band's first new release since the members left their previous agency, WM Entertainment, after their contracts expired in January, and signed with KI Entertainment in March. "With this album, we wanted to express ourselves as we are," Hyojin said. "I think it is an album that captures ONF's present in the most honest way." The latest album consists of six songs: lead track "Open the Door" and B-sides "Bad Dream," "Escape," "Mirage," "Silver Lining" and "Once in a Red Moon." All six members actively participated in the production and preparation of the album, with Wyatt and Minkyun credited for songwriting and lyrics, Yuto taking part as performance director and Seungjun contributing to the album's overall planning. The biggest appeal of the lead track lies in its lyrics, said member E-Tion. "I think people may gain courage from this song when they feel anxious about future," he said. "Because the future is unknown, everyone feels some sense of uncertainty. So, for example, when you are changing jobs or need courage for something new, I think this song can give you great strength and energy." Wyatt, who was credited for the song's lyrics, said he was also facing uncertainties while working on the track. "I wanted to portray the worries we feel about an unseen future," he said. "But at the same time, when I wrote these lyrics, I hoped many people would listen to the song and see a hopeful future ahead of them. I wrote it hoping that it could be a source of comfort." As the group remains tight-knit after nine years, even moving to a new agency together, the members say their aspirations for the future, built on strong trust in one another, continue to tie them together. Wyatt expressed particular gratitude to Seungjun, who he said helped bring the members together. "We had anxieties about whether we could keep going," Wyatt admitted. "But Seungjun said, 'Wouldn't it be such a waste? We can do more. We've come this far — can't we do a little longer?' Those words really moved me, and I think they moved the hearts of the other members as well." The group still hopes to perform on bigger stages in front of larger crowds — and to reach more people in moments when they need comfort. "I thought that ONF's albums are like a reflection of ONF's reality," Seungjun said. "I think everyone has a closed door somewhere in their heart. We want to give people the strength to challenge themselves and, through our story, reach many people, resonate with them and offer them comfort." BY SHIN HA-NEE [[email protected]]

Jinjujip has built a loyal following with its rich oxtail soup, preserving a three-generation legacy in Seoul's fish-focused Namdaemun Market. Inside a narrow galchijorim (spicy braised cutlassfish) alley just west of Namdaemun Market in central Seoul, one diner is waging a solitary battle, serving oxtail soup in a neighborhood dominated by fish dishes. Yet its presence is quite significant. The diner fills with customers seeking a hangover cure in the morning, a hearty lunch in the afternoon and a bottle of soju in the evening. This diner is Jinjujip, a restaurant that has been in the business for more than seven decades across three generations, specializing in oxtail only, either in soup or braised versions. Oxtail soup is not a dish unique to Korea. In fact, the soup with thick and sticky broth of oxtail simmered for hours, is a common dish in the West as well, such as British oxtail soup in which the oxtail is often browned first and simmered with root vegetables, red wine, and herbs to create a rich, dark, and savory stew-like broth. In Korea, oxtail soup — called kkorigomtang — is considered one of the country's premium beef broth soups. It stands alongside dishes like seolleongtang, known for an opaque broth yielded by boiling beef bones and meat, and gomtang, a clear soup prepared by slow-cooking the meat alone. The signature dish at Jinjujip, which opened in 1950, is kkoritomak—a premium oxtail soup whose name translates to "chopped pieces of oxtail." While a whole ox tail yields about 18 to 20 bone segments, Jinjujip's specialty uses only the five thickest, meatiest cuts from the base of the tail, known locally as tomak. The segments included in the restaurant's normal kkorigomtang dish are the mid- and small-sized pieces of the ox tail. Because of that difference, kkoritomak costs 34,000 won ($22) compared to kkorigomtang's price of 29,000 won. At this reporter's visit, the kkoritomak was served in a boiling hot ttukbaegi (earthenware pot) with two sizable tomaks submerged in sticky, thick broth. At first, it seemed dexterous chopstick skills could surmount the challenge of removing the meat from the bone, but that strategy devolved into holding the piece with a bare hand and biting off every last bit of the meat. "Next time, try the jan tomak instead of the big one," said Ha Yang-sook, 72, who had run the diner since 1990 with her older sister Ha Mi-soon. A few years ago, they again passed down the diner to Ha Mi-soon's daughter, Kang In-sook. "The founder of this restaurant was called 'Granny Kwon' and she considered my older sister [Ha Mi-soon], who was from the same hometown of Jinju, as her own daughter. At first, Jinjujip was located on the basement level of a vintage shopping arcade before moving to this location when it was passed down to me and my older sister," Ha said. According to Ha, younger customers tend to prefer tomak No. 1, which has the most amount of meat, but those who really have a taste for the dish prefer No. 4 and No. 5, which have less meat but a chewier texture. "We usually put two pieces of the larger tomaks in one pot of kkoritomak or three to four smaller pieces — what we call jan tomak," she said. Kkoritomak's broth is extremely sticky, as expected, to the point where one's upper and lower lips stick to each other when closing one's mouth. In terms of transparency, it is neither opaque nor transluscent. "Oxtail dishes are considered premium because each cow yields only a small amount of tail meat, and the ingredient requires extensive preparation," she said. "If you just simmer the oxtail, it gives you sticky yet clear broth. That broth is subtle and refined in its own way, but customers seemed to prefer thicker, milkier broth. So we started blending broths made from knee cartilage, beef leg bones and assorted beef bones to achieve this color and texture." Trimming oxtail bones is a laborious process. The staff at Jinjujip comes to work at six in the morning before opening the d...

Generative AI is helping smaller law firms compete with larger rivals. But for independent lawyers, it's an entirely different story. The shift has been especially painful for newly licensed lawyers. Tasks once assigned to junior associates — such as carrying out legal research, writing case summaries and drafting documents — are increasingly being handled by AI tools. The shift has reduced hiring demand across law firms, corporations and public institutions. "Lawyers are losing work, just as accountants and translators did before us," said Kim Min-kyu, a lawyer of 10 years. Kim shut down his solo practice earlier this year and took a more stable job after concluding that independent lawyers could no longer compete in the AI era. "I've even seen lawyers take delivery jobs after struggling to find work for an extended period," Kim said. For those who are fresh out of law school, the reality is even more bleak. What associate lawyers — those with less than three years of experience — used to handle is now being done by more experienced attorneys using AI, without the need for younger lawyers to do the time-consuming research and paperwork. In fact, job postings for newly licensed lawyers at law firms, companies and public institutions fell to 3,167 in 2025 from 3,895 in 2021, a decline of 18.7 percent, according to data posted on the Korean Bar Association's website. "If we hire a junior associate, even a trainee, we have to pay more than 5 million won ($3,300) a month after taxes," a seventh-year lawyer in Seoul's Seocho District, southern Seoul, said. "For about 1 million won a month [in AI subscriptions], we can save 25 million won a month," equivalent to the salary of five associates. Scrapping plans to hire new associate lawyers is likewise becoming more common. "We decided not to move forward with hiring after having planned to hire two new [associates]," said one lawyer in Seocho District. "One AI assistant can now handle the tasks of five lawyer trainees as the hallucination issue has improved drastically." While some lawyers paint a bleak picture for an AI era, the technology has created opportunities for lawyers at small and midsize firms. "Large firms have long enjoyed advantages in expertise and research resources," said Jeon Hee-jung, an attorney who runs a law office in Daejeon. "AI can do the work of five to 10 people when it comes to research and has lowered the barriers to specialized legal knowledge." The outlook has also improved for some solo practitioners. Yoon Se-hwan, a lawyer with six years of experience, had considered hiring his first employee this year but ultimately decided against it. "When I saw the new Claude Code model released earlier this year, I thought I could hold out a little longer," Yoon said. "I spend as much as 1 million won a month on AI subscriptions, but AI has allowed me to take on cases I wouldn't have been able to handle before. I've already recouped a full year's worth of subscription costs." Some lawyers argue that AI has enabled them to focus more on the "core" of their legal profession. Lawyers, once jokingly described as "document-writing machines," are increasingly delegating drafting work to AI and concentrating instead on tasks that require a human touch, such as consultations with clients, gathering evidence and speaking in the courtroom. "There are duties that just cannot be replaced by AI, such as answering calls from clients facing urgent situations and conducting investigations or being present for emergency arrests," said attorney Lee Hye-in. Lee hired two junior associates and one trainee lawyer last year on the belief that "face-to-face human interaction has become even more important in the AI era." "Work is shifting as lawyers are spending less time drafting legal documents thanks to AI and more time on business development and client management," said Cho Jeong-hyeon, an attorney who heads the Suwon, Gyeonggi, office of a midsize law firm. "We've entered an...

Queer international students describe their university experiences as shaped less by open rejection than by limited awareness and institutional support For most international students, arriving in Korea means navigating a familiar set of challenges: keeping up with classes, making friends and adjusting to a new culture. For LGBTQ+ students, however, another question often lingers beneath those concerns: How welcoming will this country be? Miko Fusco, from the United States, arrived in Korea expecting the worst. "Before coming here, I thought it would feel like a prison in that regard," Fusco, who is now studying business at Korea University, said in an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily. "The impression came from social media because that's where we see inflated stories of people's bad experiences, which can spread misinformation and lead to broad generalizations." "I was surprised when I realized that Koreans are not hostile to LGBTQ+ people. If anything, I feel more liberated here," Fusco added. Argentinian student Rocio Alvarez, who is studying Healthcare Management and Policy at Seoul National University (SNU), expressed a somewhat different view from Fusco's, sharing her experience of being disappointed in people's attitudes toward the LGBTQ+ community in Korea. "I got to know about Korea because of K-pop and Korean movies, and K-pop is often perceived as being open to LGBTQ+ people, mainly because of how male K-pop artists dress and wear makeup," Alvarez said. "People back in my country would even make fun of me because of that aspect, but I was pretty shocked to find out that Koreans are almost ignorant when it comes to LGBTQ+ issues." "I always had to explain what I am, and I gave up and stopped telling Koreans about my identity," the SNU student added. Fusco and Alvarez's experiences reflect the varied realities LGBTQ+ international students encounter on Korean campuses, where experiences often depend on factors such as campus culture, social circles and housing arrangements. To better understand those experiences, the Korea JoongAng Daily spoke with four international students from different corners of the globe and three leaders of LGBTQ+ campus organizations about issues ranging from classroom discussions and dormitory life to perceptions of LGBTQ+ identities in Korea. While some of the students interviewed said they had experienced discrimination off campus, none reported encountering overt homophobia on campus. What stood out instead was how rarely LGBTQ+ issues entered everyday conversations or classroom discussions. "Actually, I have never experienced discrimination here, but maybe it's because people don't really talk about it in the first place, not because Koreans are more woke," a Ukrainian design student at Hongik University said on the condition of anonymity, an experience echoed by all but one of the students interviewed. "Even in discussion-based lectures, I don't really get the opportunity to talk about it," the Ukrainian student said. "In Europe, we would talk about it very often and very casually." Bice, an Italian student who asked to be identified by a nickname, agreed. Bice recalled enrolling in a gender-related course at Yonsei University expecting broader discussions of sexuality and gender diversity, only to find those expectations largely unmet. "The curriculum focused primarily on the social roles of men and women, family structures and gender-related social issues, but there was no dedicated section on LGBTQ+ identities or communities," Bice said, expressing surprise at the gap between the course title and its content. Bice added that the biggest challenge was not outright hostility but how quickly conversations seemed to stall whenever topics related to LGBTQ+ emerged, referring to another elective class she attended recently. "During one classroom presentation on marriage, a group focused exclusively on heterosexual relationships," Bice said. "When someone asked about same-sex ma...

Analysis of the North Korean leader's body language demonstrates a regression to the insecure behavior that characterized his early reign. [A STUDY OF KIM JONG-UN 5] As North Korean leader Kim Jong-un strolled through the gardens of the Metropole Hanoi in Vietnam on Feb. 28, 2019, after a one-on-one meeting with U.S. President Donald Trump, smiles crossed his face — seemingly at the sound of chirping birds. He walked ahead of Trump on several occasions and smiled softly whenever Trump spoke, even before interpreters relayed the remarks. Near the end of the walk, Kim clasped his hands behind his back and entered the meeting venue ahead of Trump. But his expression changed after taking his seat for the expanded summit session. Among the participants sat John Bolton, Trump's hawkish national security adviser. Kim likely sensed instinctively that if Trump intended to give him what he wanted, Bolton would not be sitting at the table. Then came a question one minute and 18 seconds after the opening remarks began. "Did you discuss human rights issues?" Kim remained silent. Trump answered, "We are discussing everything." From that moment on, Kim's hand gestures seemed to speak instead. Kim took out a folded piece of paper to check its contents, then placed his interlocked hands on the table in his signature manner. Soon, his left thumb began moving busily. This was followed by questions regarding the declaration of an end to the 1950-53 Korean War and the establishment of liaison offices. Kim repeatedly moved his left thumb up and down without pause, almost as though pressing an invisible button, while touching his right hand. When Trump began speaking further about liaison offices, Kim interrupted him. "I would appreciate having more time to continue our discussions," Kim said. "Every minute is precious for us." Although he smiled while speaking, his thumb moved so restlessly that it made onlookers anxious. The public portion of the remarks ended after just four minutes and second seconds. "When people become anxious, the limbic system attempts to ease that tension in various ways, which often appear as self-soothing behaviors," said Kim Yeo-jung, head of personal branding company Jiem and Gitdum (JNG), which specializes in nonverbal communication. "The brain has far more neural connections with the hands than with most other parts of the body. When the brain sends signals to calm down, the hands react immediately, producing movements that create comfort. Kim Jong-un's finger movements in Hanoi are a classic example of self-touch behavior aimed at reducing anxiety." According to Kim Yeo-jung, although the North Korean leader said little, "his body was already emitting uncontrollable signals of uncontrollable stress." The JoongAng Ilbo commissioned JNG to jointly analyze video footage of Kim Jong-un released between 2012, immediately after he took power, and 2025. JNG Company tracked changes in his facial expressions, gestures and posture during major speeches, field inspections and summits with the leaders of South Korea, the United States, China and Russia. The total amount of analyzed footage alone reached 315 hours. According to the researchers, Kim Jong-un's subconscious body language often revealed his psychological state more clearly than his words. JNG's Kim Yeo-jung said the anxiety-driven behavior Kim Jong-un displayed at the Hanoi "no-deal" summit bore a striking resemblance to that seen during Kim's early years in power in 2012. Born as the son of late North Korean leader Kim Jong-il's third partner, Ko Yong-hui, with whom he never formally married, and having spent a secluded childhood, Kim Jong-un exhibited behavior indicative of a legitimacy complex immediately after assuming power. The execution of his uncle Jang Song-thaek in late 2013 and the assassination of his half-brother Kim Jong-nam in 2017 have often been interpreted as efforts to eliminate potential threats. Kim Jong-un's mannerisms grew more confident o...