Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

The author is a professor of economics at Sejong University.

Egg prices doubled within a single week. For Iran's working poor, inflation is no longer an abstract statistic but a daily hardship. A plunging currency has pushed the cost of basic necessities beyond control, turning the streets of Tehran into arenas of economic survival. Unlike earlier protests focused on women's rights or disputed elections, the current unrest has spread across all 31 provinces. It began when even pro-government shopkeepers shut their doors as the exchange rate spiraled, signaling a nationwide economic breakdown rather than a localized uprising.

How did Iran reach this point? The root cause lies in the cumulative weight of United States sanctions. After the 1979 seizure of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, sanctions intensified under the Jimmy Carter administration. In the 1980s, Washington imposed arms embargoes. By 1995, sanctions expanded into "secondary boycotts," penalizing foreign companies that did business with Iran. The 2015 nuclear agreement briefly eased pressure, but the 2018 U.S. withdrawal under U.S. President Donald Trump and the reimposition of sanctions during his first and second terms shattered what remained of Iran's economic foundation. The rial collapsed, and under Trump 2.0 the exchange rate again surged severalfold.

Iran's multiple exchange-rate system has compounded the damage. Official rates for essential goods, intermediary rates and market rates for luxury items have distorted prices and fueled black markets. The so-called "resistance economy," dominated by the Revolutionary Guards, exerts control over an estimated 20 percent of GDP, deepening corruption and inefficiency. Even state coupons intended to cushion households against rising prices fail to keep pace with inflation.

There was a time when Korea and Iran were close enough to name major avenues after each other, Tehran Road in Seoul and Seoul Road in Tehran. That sense of partnership reflected the oil-boom optimism of the 1970s. More than five decades later, Iran's economy is trapped in a vicious cycle of sanctions, policy failure and currency collapse.

As protests flare across Iranian cities, international attention is turning to Washington's range of options, including the possibility of military intervention. Trump recently ordered forceful action against Venezuela. Whether he would consider a similar move against Iran remains an open question, one that now hovers over a country already pushed to the brink by economic ruin.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

The author is a deputy director of economic and industry news at the JoongAng Ilbo.

Few television dramas would dare script a plot this dramatic. Samsung Electronics' past 15 months read like a series of plot twists worthy of prime time.

This year alone, consensus forecasts put Samsung's operating profit at about 101 trillion won (roughly $70 billion). Citigroup goes further, projecting as much as 155 trillion won (about $105 billion). That translates into roughly 420 billion won (roughly $290 million) piling up in the vault each day. The stock price has tripled in a year, powered by the artificial intelligence driven semiconductor supercycle.

Just a year and a half ago, the mood could not have been more different. Morgan Stanley warned that "winter looms," citing slowing chip demand and falling prices. In reality, it was a "solo winter" for Samsung. SK hynix, long regarded as a step behind, landed a decisive blow by supplying high bandwidth memory (HBM) to Jensen Huang's Nvidia.

It was around this time that the so-called Jun Young-hyun letter of reflection emerged. Four months after his emergency appointment in May 2024 as head of Samsung's semiconductor business, Jun issued a public statement addressed to customers, investors and employees. He apologized, saying results had fallen short of market expectations. He identified restoring fundamental technological competitiveness as the core task and pledged to overhaul organizational culture. Such an open admission was rare and unsettling. Even so, doubts lingered over whether a turnaround was possible. The outcome is now clear.

That raises an obvious question. Is the rebound structural or simply a ride on favorable AI winds? The answer is both, and still uncertain. At CES 2026 earlier this month, Huang said the world needs far more AI factories and that memory suppliers stand to benefit most. With its unmatched memory technology and manufacturing scale, Samsung sits at the center of that structure. On Thursday, the company notified customers that prices for all memory products would rise by as much as 80 percent. Only a dominant supplier can do that. Samsung is also seen as having regained momentum in HBM, once a source of humiliation. In foundry services, it has secured meaningful clients such as Tesla and Apple.

Even so, it is too early to declare the restoration of an unassailable technology gap. When market conditions cool, when Big Tech slows AI infrastructure spending and demand eases, Samsung's true capabilities will be tested.

Another concern is the "memory boomerang." Rising chip prices feed into device prices, which consumers eventually feel. That, in turn, can erode demand. A new laptop now costs about five million won, roughly one million more than last year. The upcoming Galaxy S26 is also expected to be pricier. With household budgets already stretched, opening wallets is getting harder.

New uncertainty has emerged as well. Tariff negotiations with the United States remain unresolved. Last week, U.S. Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick said that memory chipmakers face only two choices: Pay a 100 percent tariff or manufacture in the United States. He made the remarks at the groundbreaking of a New York plant by Micron, the world's third-largest memory producer after Samsung and SK hynix. Korea, which accounts for about 70 percent of global dynamic random access memory (DRAM) output, holds leverage but such pressure is uncomfortable.

President Lee Jae Myung pushed back at a news conference on Wednesday, asking whether companies would simply move if the government told them to. Still, politics is unpredictable. Talk of luring semiconductor plants to Saemangeum could resurface at any time. One industry official called it an ember that has not gone out. What some see as courtship can feel like coercion to others.

Talent management is becoming harder too. The medical school boom makes it difficult to nurture the kind of genius that can support 100,000 jobs and it is...

The author is a political professor at Yonsei University.

Today's Korea stands out globally in national power and culture, technology and material capacity, appeal and public favor. As previously argued in an assessment marking the nation's aspiration toward maturity at the centennial of liberation, Korea's comprehensive national power has risen to a level just below that of empires and hegemonic states. Subsequent international indices, whether broad or detailed, have repeatedly confirmed this standing.

Over the past decade and more, while visiting sites that reflect the rise and fall of civilizations, one constant I encountered was Korean products and culture. At a remote heritage site in a country that once produced a universal religion, students on a school outing asked whether I had brought souvenirs of BTS. I felt embarrassed that I had not. In a neighboring region locked in prolonged violent conflict with that country, a young man spoke fluent Korean and said he most enjoyed Korean phones and music.

In a historic city of a country known for its peace and welfare, I arrived at a public square where students were rehearsing an impressive performance to Korean music. Their knowledge of Korean artists and dramas far exceeded mine. One told me he was saving money to visit Korea someday.

At a World Heritage site, children approached me for photographs simply because I was Korean. At a literary museum in Europe, a reader asked me to explain the background of a theme in a Nobel-winning work by Han Kang, which touched on the Jeju April 3 tragedy, leading to a long conversation.

The people I met differed widely in ethnicity, language, religion, civilization, time and place. That diversity itself showed how universal the reception of Korean culture has become. Long ago, Korean travelers abroad took pride in spotting a single Korean electronic device or car. Today, Korean automobiles, electronics, food and mobile phones are too common to count. Less visible sectors, including patents, semiconductors, shipbuilding, defense and shipping, are equally global in scale.

In the breadth, size and height of exports, culture, products and technology, Korea clearly approaches an imperial or quasi-imperial level. For this reason, I have often classified Korea as a quasi-great power. Under the traditional tripartite scheme of great powers, middle powers and small states, such a category scarcely exists. Yet, when technology, products, appeal and culture are added to territory, population, economy and military strength, the notion becomes unavoidable. If today's technology supply chains and maritime networks are considered alongside ancient Roman roads or the Silk Road, Korea's quasi-great-power status is firm.

This reality renders obsolete the long-held framework of "the Korean Peninsula and the four surrounding powers." It no longer works because Korea's status has changed. The image of a weak Korea encircled by great powers, with its fate decided from outside, no longer applies.

Yet, the general traits of civilizations and empires make Korea's present moment unsettling. Civilizations and empires take long periods to build but collapse rapidly. They also tend to decline from internal causes. Few exceptions exist to this cycle. The trigger is almost always conflict and stagnation at the peak.

In this sense, Korea's quasi-great-power standing and civilizational peak are both a source of pride and a cause for fear. Confidence in the methods and factors that propelled Korea upward has dulled reflection on whether the country is already experiencing stagnation at its summit. That blindness obscures the internal forces of erosion. Korea now ranks among the world's worst in low fertility and suicide. Growth has stalled, entrenched factional conflict persists and extinction, demographic, regional, educational and social, has become a defining term of the era.

Factional conflict, low fertility, suicide, extinction and stagnation are chronic publi...

On Thursday, the Kospi briefly broke through the 5,000 mark during intraday trading, just 87 days after first crossing 4,000. The milestone is meaningful, as it signals that Korea's capital market may be emerging from a long period of deep undervaluation and entering a higher tier. But news released the same day that the economy contracted in the fourth quarter of last year serves as a reminder that it is still too early to celebrate. Unless Korea bridges the widening gap between capital markets and the real economy and between exports and domestic demand, remaining above 5,000 will be difficult.

The recent pace of the rally has been striking. The benchmark index has risen 17.5 percent so far this year, outperforming major global markets. The surge owes much to leading Korean companies riding the global AI boom. Samsung Electronics and SK hynix climbed on soaring profit expectations, followed by Hyundai Motor, which has drawn attention with its push into so-called physical AI. Optimism, abundant liquidity and policy momentum combined to fuel the rapid ascent.

Even so, warning lights have been flashing. The Bank of Korea announced that real GDP shrank 0.3 percent in the fourth quarter of 2025, defying earlier expectations of modest growth. The downturn reflected worsening construction and facility investment, key pillars of domestic demand, and the fading impact of consumption coupons that boosted third-quarter growth. As a result, full-year growth barely reached 1 percent.

The semiconductor-driven "optical illusion" behind recent figures is also evident. Semiconductor exports contributed 0.9 percentage points to last year's growth, effectively propping up the entire economy. Fourth-quarter exports fell 2.1 percent as automobiles and machinery were hit by tariff pressures, and without semiconductors, the damage would have been far greater. The same concentration risk applies to equities. Shares are rising fast now, but if concerns over an AI bubble materialize, sentiment could cool abruptly. Korea's market still has ground to cover. Listed companies trade at about 1.6 times book value, well below the S&P 500's 4.7 times and Japan's Nikkei's 2.3 times.

Some in the ruling party want to accelerate a third revision of the Commercial Act, including mandatory cancellation of treasury shares. But stock prices ultimately follow earnings. A durable rise in the Kospi requires stable economic growth and steadily rising corporate profits. Rather than quick legislative fixes, priority should be given to breaking out of low growth and strengthening fundamentals so new innovators can emerge.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

This article is by Lee Jian and read by an artificial voice.

[Interview]

Art Basel Hong Kong director Angelle Siyang-Le said she is bullish about the upcoming edition of the fair, citing renewed confidence in the global art market after a difficult few years.

"What has been very positive is that in Q4 of 2025, we saw an uptake in the art market. The year as a whole actually ended on a high note," Siyang-Le said in a video interview on Monday.

The global art market has been slow to recover since the Covid-19 pandemic. With art sales down 12 percent in 2024, according to the Art Basel and UBS Global Art Market Report, 2025 had a shaky start. The downturn persisted into the year, with the three major auction houses — Christie's, Sotheby's and Phillips — recording an average sales decline of 6 percent in the first half of 2025 compared to the same period a year earlier.

Siyang-Le, however, argued that momentum has since returned.

"The New York auctions [that kicked off in mid-January] were breaking records and had already generated new confidence in the market," she said. "Established galleries continued to bring heavy hitters to the fair, including million-dollar works. The highest recorded was a $15 million Frida Kahlo, which was a very important moment for the art world, showing that art fairs still hold significant weight."

That confidence, she added, has carried into the new year.

"We definitely feel the market has become a bit more stable from Q4 into Q1 of 2026, and there is more confidence overall."

Siyang-Le also pointed to mainland China as a key pillar of the Asian art market, noting that its overall transaction volume remains large compared to other regions in Asia, and that the number of new collectors entering the market remains "very strong."

"Internally, the Chinese art market is also being reshaped domestically," she said. "The arts ecosystem in mainland China is shifting, particularly with private museums and private collections. Rather than focusing solely on acquisitions, many are now placing greater emphasis on collaborations with galleries. This kind of collaboration is not entirely new, but it has become much more visible and has definitely increased across the board, especially after Covid."

Art Basel Hong Kong is Asia's largest art fair, drawing between 80,000 and 90,000 visitors annually. This year's edition, running from March 27 to 29, will bring together 240 galleries from 41 countries.

Siyang-Le joined Art Basel Hong Kong's operations team in 2012 and was appointed director in 2022.

The 2026 fair, in particular, will introduce several new initiatives, most notably "Echoes," a new sector spotlighting mid-tier galleries and artists through focused presentations of works created within the past five years.

"We recognize that this tier of galleries and artists is critically important to the ecosystem and in need of greater support," Siyang-Le said.

Another anticipated highlight is the fair's "Encounters" sector, dedicated to large-scale installations, sculptures and performances, which will be curated this year for the first time by an all-Asian curatorial team: Mami Kataoka, Isabella Tam, Alia Swastika and Hirokazu Tokuyama.

More than 20 Korean galleries are set to participate in this year's fair. Siyang-Le believes Korean artists and galleries continue to provide momentum for both the Asian and global art markets.

"In terms of new artists, I feel that in the first 10 years, Korea has always been a core educational element for international audiences, and it has played an important role," she said. "In the second decade in Asia, Korea is now offering new energy — with artists, collectors and younger curators entering the scene — and helping to lead that momentum."

This article is by Lee Jian and read by an artificial voice.

She is the kind of boss women warn each other about.

A female superior who coddles male subordinates while acting cold and harsh toward women. She is also overly invested in workplace gossip — "I think those two are dating," she remarks, half-whispering. She meddles in co-workers' personal lives, asking questions like, "Do you have a boyfriend?" and "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

Married, she brags about her husband's wealth. She has a son and loves to brag about him, too — along with a questionable approach to how he should treat girls. "Hit back when girls hit you," she tells him. "Girls are so cunning these days, but boys are so innocent."

For those unfamiliar with the type, consider yourself lucky. For those who do recognize her, it is because she is a type, and Korea has a name for her: a middle-aged "nammisae" — a term referring to a girl who is obsessed with men.

The label surged into the mainstream after an 11-minute parody YouTube clip by comedian Kang Yu-mi, released on Jan. 1, featured a comically exaggerated version of this female type. Featuring the aforementioned statements, her clip amassed 1.9 million views and over 23,000 comments in 20 days.

While the clip sparked some backlash — with some calling it offensive or accusing it of promoting misogyny — the dominant response was one of uneasy recognition. Many viewers said the character felt unsettling, not because it was overtly exaggerated, but because it was painfully familiar.

That is because the power of Kang Yu-mi's video lies not only in its unnerving accuracy but in what it reveals about the moment it has landed in. The figure of the middle-aged nammisae resonates beyond the trope of women turning on women, pointing instead to the lingering force of structural patriarchy — and to the Korean public's growing willingness to name, satirize and debate the ways it continues to shape relationships between women.

Kang's clip and the public discussions it has opened "are noteworthy in that they made visible how patriarchal structures have permeated individual perceptions and ways of forming relationships, creating tensions and fractures within women's communities," said women's studies researcher Cha Yu-ri and her research team in an email interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily.

Cha, a researcher at Sogang University's Media Convergence Research Institute, along with researcher Xianmei Jin of the same institute and Seoul National University's SNU College professor Kim Ji-hee, published a paper on Korea's nammisae discourse last year through the Korea's Association of Women's Studies.

"In particular, what stands out is how discomfort and anger that had long accumulated as private experiences were translated — through humor — into public language," they continued. "In doing so, issues that had remained difficult to articulate were brought into the space of collective discussion."

What is a 'middle-aged nammisae'?

A derogatory internet slang term, nammisae targets women perceived as being excessively focused on men, often to the point of prioritizing male attention or approval over solidarity with other women.

It emerged in the mid- to late-2010s, around the time when the country's contemporary feminist movement gained momentum, catalyzed by online feminist communities, the 2016 murder of a woman at Gangnam Station and the global #MeToo movement.

Comparable terms exist in other cultural contexts. In the West, for example, the term "boy mom" refers to a mother who shows overt favoritism toward her sons over her daughters. An article published by USA Today describes a boy mom as someone who "speaks about her son in a way that viewers perceive as being almost romantic, hyper-fixates on her male child's gender and all things 'boy' or gives special treatment to her sons through coddling and obvious favoritism."

In China, the term "green tea girl" — with "girl" replaced by a derogatory word for women —...

This article is by Hwang Hee-gyu and read by an artificial voice.

GWANGJU — Shoppers pushing carts through aisles and perusing over-the-counter medicines are becoming familiar sights in parts of Gwangju, where newly opened warehouse-style pharmacies are drawing crowds and, at the same time, stirring opposition from pharmacists and regulators.

At 1 p.m. on Jan. 18, customers filled a warehouse-style pharmacy in Ssangchon-dong, Seo District, browsing shelves stacked with medicines. While carrying shopping baskets, they compared similar products, searched online for information on ingredients and effects or asked on-site pharmacists for advice.

The store does not sell prescription drugs. Instead, it carries about 4,000 items, including over-the-counter medicines, health supplements and pet medications. Five pharmacists and four other staff members work in rotating shifts, offering product explanations and recommendations based on customers' health conditions.

After speaking with a pharmacist, customer Park Young-soo, 54, said, "I usually bought supplements recommended by my neighborhood pharmacy, but here, there's a wide variety, so you can choose for yourself."

"It's disappointing that prices aren't much cheaper than expected, though," Park added.

The store's head pharmacist said the appeal lies elsewhere. "Rather than price differences, the advantage of warehouse-style pharmacies is that consumers can compare and choose from many products for themselves, until midnight when the store closes," according to the pharmacist.

The Ssangchon-dong pharmacy, which opened last September, covers 262 square meters (2,820 square feet) and was the first warehouse-style pharmacy in Gwangju. A second opened in October in the Suwan New Town area of Gwangsan District, spanning 760 square meters. Designed like a big-box retailer, the Suwan location allows customers to push carts through an open layout. The store attracts about 600 visitors a day on weekends, according to its operator.

The openings came despite strong opposition from the Gwangju Pharmaceutical Association. The group warned that selling medicine in large retail-style spaces could encourage misuse and undermine local pharmacies.

"The arrival of warehouse-style pharmacies could disrupt the ecosystem of about 700 pharmacies in the city and weaken neighborhood-based health safety networks," the association said.

Local governments, however, had no authority to block the stores. Pharmacy openings operate under a registration system rather than a permit system, leaving little room for intervention as long as legal requirements are met.

"We reviewed the law following complaints from the pharmacists' association, but there was no way for the local government to impose restrictions," a Gwangsan District official said.

The controversy has grown as major retailers consider hosting warehouse-style pharmacies. The Gwangju Pharmaceutical Association recently sent an official letter to Lotte Shopping and other companies, requesting talks on the condition that the plans to open a warehouse-style pharmacy at the Lotte Mart Maxx Gwangju Sangmu branch be reconsidered.

"Lotte Mart introducing a warehouse-style pharmacy without sufficient consultation with the local community and medical and public health experts goes beyond a simple store operation issue and could have serious implications for health safety and the public health care system," the association said in the letter.

As debate continues, the central government has stepped in. The Ministry of Health and Welfare has completed procedures to revise enforcement rules under the Pharmaceutical Affairs Act and plans to tighten oversight of pharmacy names and advertising. The revisions ban pharmacies from using terms such as "largest," "best," "mart-style" and "special price," which authorities say could mislead or improperly attract consumers.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of...

This article is by Cho Jung-woo and read by an artificial voice.

Seoul's attempt to recruit foreign caregivers has been shelved after months of controversy over wages, working conditions and legal protections, exposing deeper questions about whether the country is ready to accept more foreign workers.

The pilot program, launched in August 2024 by the Ministry of Employment and Labor and the Seoul Metropolitan Government, was intended to ease a growing shortage of child care workers as the country grapples with a persistently low birthrate.

First proposed in 2022 by Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon, the initiative aimed to lower child care costs and prevent women from leaving the work force by hiring overseas caregivers at relatively affordable rates.

Under the recent plan, 100 caregivers from the Philippines were brought to Seoul and placed in households with children aged 12 and younger.

But the initiative quickly ran into trouble. Service fees proved higher than expected, while concerns mounted over the caregivers' pay, job scope and legal status. Promoted as a solution to stabilize Korea's care economy, the program instead revealed a far more fragile arrangement. In December, roughly over a year after its launch, the government announced it would not expand the pilot into a permanent program.

Wages, conditions and an early end

The program faltered almost immediately. Within two weeks of its official launch, two caregivers failed to return to their dormitory, drawing public attention to what critics described as poor preparation and weak oversight.

The two workers were later located in Busan and were ultimately returned to their home country in October 2024.

Concerns over working conditions soon followed. During a debate at the Seoul Metropolitan Council in June last year, Lee Mi-ae, a professor at Jeju National University's Research Institute for Tamla Culture, disclosed testimony from one of the caregivers who had returned home. According to Lee, the worker described an exhausting schedule that began at 8 a.m. and ended when she returned home at midnight.

Despite requesting a shift change, the caregiver received no response from the platform companies, according to an interpreter who shared the case as part of the research.

Pay was another major point of contention. A recent study by Prof. Lee found that caregivers earned roughly half of Korea's average monthly wage. During the program's first six months, their average pretax monthly income was 1.92 million won ($1,297). After deductions for housing, insurance and communication fees, take-home pay fell to roughly 1.18 million won.

That amounted to just 51 percent of the national average monthly wage in 2024, which stood at 3.74 million won.

Yet despite relatively low worker pay, households using the service faced comparatively high costs once operational fees charged by private platforms were factored in.

Beginning in March last year, a household using the service for 40 hours paid about 2.92 million won a month, up from roughly 2.43 million won in 2024 when the program kicked off. The increase reflected the application of Korean labor law, including severance pay for employment exceeding one year, as well as platform operating expenses. This year, the hourly cost rose from 16,800 won to 18,900 won.

Critics argued that the scheme delivered little overall benefit, noting that the average monthly cost of hiring domestic caregivers stood at 2.64 million won in 2023.

With criticism mounting and participation failing to expand as planned, the government moved to scale back the initiative. In December last year, it announced that the pilot project would be abolished and that the quota for foreign workers under the E-9 nonprofessional employment visa would be sharply reduced. The annual cap was cut to 80,000 from 130,000 the year before.

Under the E-9 system, workers are initially granted residency for up to three years, with the option to extend their stay by up to one year and 10 mo...

The author is an HCMC distinguished professor at the Korea Institute for Advanced Study.

Several years ago, on Oct. 31, an American mathematics journalist was invited to a one-hour radio interview devoted entirely to math. He was puzzled. Who would schedule an hour of complex mathematics on the radio? Before the program began, he asked the producer what had prompted the idea. The producer smiled awkwardly and replied, "It's Halloween tonight. We thought nothing was scarier than mathematics."

In the mid-1990s, when personal computers were becoming common, a late-night radio show conducted a listener survey. The question was simple: which school subject do you think will disappear in the near future? Mathematics ranked first. Most respondents were teenagers, so the answer was understandable. There was an expectation that computers would replace mathematics. There was also, quietly, the hope that students might finally be spared a subject many found painful.

No matter how it is explained, mathematics remains difficult and intimidating for students. Advice on how to become good at math circulates widely, but it often rings hollow. The core reason is the nature of mathematics itself. Understanding cannot be handed down. It must be discovered individually. Yet mathematics forms the foundation of modern science and technology, making it impossible to avoid. To cope, educators often try to simplify math by removing difficult material. But subtraction is not always the solution. One episode illustrates why.

In France, there was once a movement to remove differential calculus from the high school curriculum. The argument was that it was too abstract and too hard. Eventually, the issue reached a televised debate. Panelists split into opposing camps and exchanged sharp arguments. The pro-removal side made its case with striking clarity, and as the discussion unfolded, the mood appeared to swing decisively in its favor.

Then, near the end of the program, an unexpected reversal occurred. It came from a single remark by a panelist who had been on the defensive throughout the debate and seemed close to losing. Turning to his opponent, he said, "I concede defeat. But the reason you were able to present such a coherent and logical argument tonight is precisely that you studied differential calculus in high school."

The exchange cut through the discussion more sharply than any technical explanation. What had been framed as an abstract and unnecessary burden was suddenly revealed as a source of intellectual discipline.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

Park Jong-seung

The author is a professor at KAIST and former head of the Agency for Defense Development.

The news that the former employees who leaked Samsung's core semiconductor technologies to China have been indicted and detained has sent shock waves through Korea. The case unmasked the fragility of the country's industrial technology protection regime. Advanced technologies accumulated over decades through massive investment and talent development have flowed outward because safeguards failed. The potential damage is enormous, and the incident serves as a warning in an era defined by the U.S.-China technological rivalry.

Although semiconductors are a civilian industry, their impact reaches deeply into national security. The same risks surrounding semiconductor technology information leaks could surface even more acutely in the defense sector. Korea's global standing in defense exports has risen sharply thanks to indigenous weapons systems such as the Cheongung air defense system, the Chunmoo multiple rocket launcher, the K2 main battle tank, the K9 self-propelled howitzer and the FA-50 light combat aircraft. As exports expand, however, so does the risk that defense technologies directly tied to national security may be exposed.

Defense exports today extend beyond the sales of finished products. They increasingly involve technology transfers, local production arrangements and joint development programs. This shift has made the management of core technologies far more important. Modern weapons systems integrate design skill, software and operational concepts into a single architecture. Even the leak of partial technologies can lead to imitations or significantly enhance an adversary's countermeasures. The consequences go beyond industrial loss and directly affect the lives of service members.

If semiconductor technology leaks translate into industrial damage, defense technology leaks can escalate into a national crisis. But awareness and institutional safeguards have not kept pace with the rapid growth of the defense industry. The expanding network of subcontractors, the rise in overseas joint development and the movement of specialized personnel have all introduced new security vulnerabilities. With the semiconductor sector already demonstrating how easily technology can be siphoned off, there is no guarantee that defense industries will not follow the same path.

The global defense market has evolved from a competition over performance into a battlefield of information. The United States enacted the Economic Espionage Act in 1996 and treats the leak of strategic technologies as a grave national security offense. Attempts to steal data on the F-35 fighter jet design, for example, are regarded not as acts of ordinary theft but as threats to national survival.

Russia has punished scientists who attempted to leak hypersonic missile technologies with charges of treason. Japan and Britain have strengthened economic security laws to block advanced domestic technologies from flowing to third countries. A common feature of these approaches is that espionage is defined broadly, not limited to acts on behalf of an "enemy state" but extended to any foreign country or agent that harms national interests.

Korea stands in stark contrast. Article 98 of the Criminal Act restricts espionage to acts conducted "for an enemy state." Under this framework, even if core design data for Korean weapons systems were sold to a country masquerading as an ally or to a multinational corporation, prosecution under the espionage statute would be impossible. The industrial technology protection act carries lighter penalties and lacks the gravity required to address threats at the national security level.

From my experience overseeing weapons development, the moment defense technologies are leaked overseas, the strategic advantages built up by the Korean military are eroded, and the competitiveness of defense exports is undermined. A weak punishment r...