Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

This article is by Han Chan-woo, Lee Ah-mi and read by an artificial voice.

A job posting on the e-commerce app Karrot offering 30,000 won ($20) to wait in line drew 30 applicants on Dec. 26 last year.

It was a precursor to what followed days later.

On the night of New Year's Eve, long lines stretched outside bars, restaurants and arcades in the Hongdae area in western Seoul, even as a cold snap drove temperatures to minus 8 degrees Celsius (17 degrees Fahrenheit).

A person surnamed Park stood among the crowds after working as a professional queuer for more than five years.

"Requests to wait in line for high-end hotel restaurants and bars have increased a lot recently," Park said. "I earn 4 million to 5 million won a month on average. During the Covid-19 period, some people made up to 8 million won, so some treat it as their main job."

Posts seeking queuers have appeared outside Seoul as well. A user on Karrot in Changwon, South Gyeongsang, wrote, "I'm looking for someone to stand in line at a bar in Sangnam-dong for 50,000 won on Jan. 1."

Other posts listed different reasons. One said the writer wanted to enter a venue the moment midnight struck. Another said the writer did not want to waste time with their partner.

Queuing jobs once centered on limited-edition luxury goods. The work now extends to restaurants, bars and bakeries as crowds return to nightlife districts.

The market has grown since the late 2010s and demand rose further during and after the Covid-19 pandemic, with some workers treating queuing as specialized part-time work.

Recent spikes in demand have followed the popularity of specific shops and desserts. Customers have flocked to Sungsimdang, a well-known bakery in Daejeon, and to cafes that sell a trendy dessert such as the Dubai chewy cookie.

Most of these jobs pay around the minimum hourly wage of 10,320 won. Some listings include extra pay depending on the time, location and weather.

"Outdoor waiting pays more, and rates during peak seasons like the end of the year and New Year's rise by about 50 percent," said the owner of a queuing service business.

Experts said the rise of platforms that facilitate such arrangements and shifting consumer attitudes drove the sharp increase in people who willingly pay for someone to stand in line.

"Consumers once accepted inconvenience as part of shopping, but many now treat time and effort as transaction costs and pay extra to reduce them," said Choi Chul, a professor of consumer economics at Sookmyung Women's University.

Others said the shift also reflects how online platforms make it easier to turn that demand into paid services.

"Internet and platform growth make it easy to connect people offering even small services with those who need them," said Lee Eun-hee, a professor of consumer studies at Inha University. "Services driven by more specific demand, such as paying someone to wait in line for a bar, will keep emerging."

The trend has also drawn criticism.

"Standing in line for someone else does not break current law, but it can draw ethical criticism because people use money to secure limited goods and services," Kwak Jun-ho, an attorney at the law firm Chung, said.

Other lawyers said the practice can also raise legal issues.

"There is no regulation for organized queuing businesses," Chun Jung-min, an attorney at the law firm Daeryun, said. "Some stores explicitly ban it, and if someone refuses to leave after a store orders them out, the situation could lead to a legal dispute."

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 Jae-lim and read by an artificial voice.

[NEWS ANALYSIS]

The Ministry of Trade, Industry and Resources, which oversees the management and development of semiconductor facility projects, drew a clear line on the location dispute surrounding the chip cluster in Yongin, saying the project will move forward as planned.

A mega-sized land plot in Yongin, Gyeonggi, billed as a site for the world's largest chip complex, has become the center of political strife, after Climate Minister Kim Sung-whan raised the need to reconsider the location selection due to the area's lack of electricity supply.

"The proposal is not under consideration, and no review is planned," an Industry Ministry official in charge of the semiconductor project told the Korea JoongAng Daily.

"Most supply agreements — for electricity, industrial water and other utilities — have already been concluded," the official added. "It is true that detailed power-supply plans beyond 2039 have not yet been finalized. But arrangements for the earlier phases are firmly in place, and we are working to make sure the project proceeds on schedule and without disruption."

Led by Samsung Electronics and SK hynix, the project's sheer scale is unprecedented. It spans 11.44 million square meters (123 million square feet) of land and has attracted investment pledges of 360 trillion won ($248 billion) from Samsung Electronics and 600 trillion won from SK hynix so far, envisioned as a cornerstone of the country's future semiconductor supply chain.

Kim said that supplying sufficient power to the Yongin semiconductor industrial complex "will not be easy" during a radio interview on Dec. 26, 2025. Behind the scenes, the ministry is already knee-deep in a dilemma over the issue, as it works to persuade the energy-abundant southern regions to accept the new grid and transmission projects required to supply power to the Yongin cluster.

"If Samsung Electronics and SK hynix move into Yongin, the total amount of electricity the two companies would require is equivalent to the output of about 15 nuclear reactors — around 15 gigawatts," Kim said.

"That raises the question of whether the cluster truly needs to be located there, or whether, even at this stage, it should be relocated to other regions with greater electricity capacity. There is a growing sense that the country must rethink its approach: instead of feeling compelled to supply power wherever businesses happen to be built, we should be encouraging companies to base their production activities in areas where electricity is more abundant."

Korea's historic chip project tainted by political wrangling

Speculation over relocation intensified after President Lee Jae Myung used his New Year's address to outline plans for a "southern semiconductor belt," part of a broader strategy to spur rural growth and reduce the country's reliance on capital-focused infrastructure.

"From a semiconductor belt in the energy-rich southern region to AI demonstration cities and renewable energy clusters, we will design a structure in which the growth of advanced industries is directly linked to regional development," Lee said.

The remarks have largely been interpreted as a push to create new semiconductor complexes in Yeongnam and Honam, integrating AI and renewable-energy industries into a southern high-tech hub. Lee, however, did not specify whether the proposal would shift the Yongin cluster southward or establish separate facilities there.

Several lawmakers have criticized the relocation debate online, warning that politicians are framing the issue in terms of regional populism ahead of Korea's local elections in June. They note that rural regions, though relatively rich in energy resources, face serious disadvantages: a limited talent pool and the absence of the dense supplier ecosystem required for semiconductor manufacturing.

Lee Jun-seok, leader of the Reform Party, took to Facebook to rebut the proposal. Lee Jun-seok represents ...

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

Office worker Kim Yoon-jin has run four marathons since 2023. But each year, she becomes less sure if this is the best after-hours hobby.

"I love running, but lately, it feels kind of fraught with stress," she said.

The number of registered marathon races in Korea has skyrocketed in recent years, from 19 in 2020 to 254 in 2024, a more than 13-fold increase, according to the Korean National Police Agency data. In 2025, 498 running events, including quirky running events like Disney- and superhero-themed races, were registered on the local runners' platform Online Marathon.

The seemingly positive running boom, however, is being trailed by a wave of social blowback. With more races taking over roads and parks, frustrations are rising on all sides — from residents disrupted by closures to runners facing crowding, higher fees and uneven safety management — putting the sport's core identity to the test: Can running remain an easy, low-barrier pastime?

The tension is most evident in Seoul, where running already struggles with weekend traffic and protest roadblocks. The number of civilian complaints tied to marathons reported to the Seoul government office, including jammed roads, unavailable public transportation, noise and loitering, rose from 15 in 2021 to 350 just from January through September of 2025.

"The bus had to skip my usual stop because of the road closures from a marathon," reads a post on local search portal Naver in April. "Even the pedestrian walkways were partially closed, and I ended up being late to my part-time job."

Some problems go far beyond mere inconvenience, like the 25-year-old male who died in November after being hit by a truck while running a marathon in Incheon, a major city located about 30 kilometers (18.6 miles) west-southwest of Seoul.

Over the past five years, 179 marathon-related accidents were reported to the Korean National Police Agency, with the annual total rising steadily and reaching an all-time high of 72 last year.

But improvements have been slow as governmental action remains perfunctory.

Under Korea's National Sports Promotion Act, the event organizer is responsible for establishing a safety management plan and conducting safety inspections for sports events with 1,000 or more participants. The average number of participants in major marathons ranges from 3,500 to 25,000.

Unlike rallies or demonstrations, marathons are treated as cultural events and are therefore not subject to police reporting requirements. Police officials say they try to minimize disruption by encouraging races to take place on weekend mornings, when traffic is lighter, and by implementing phased traffic controls by section.

Ultimately, it is local governments that approve permits, rent out public spaces and collect venue fees from private events. Seoul has reportedly collected about 1.5 billion won ($1 million) over the past five years from renting venues to private marathon organizers.

There is currently no cap to the maximum number of marathons that can be held in the city, as long as a venue can be legally secured. But the city government, in a statement, argued that it reviews the marathons' safety management plans before approving venue use, and assigns staff to be on-site on the day of the event to "reduce inconvenience to citizens and ensure safe event operations."

"As complaints have been received over citizen inconvenience amid a recent increase in marathon events, the city is currently exploring reasonable improvement measures to develop ways to ensure safe event operations while reducing inconvenience to residents," said an official from the city's Tourism and Sports Bureau.

During a November press conference, Mayor Oh Se-hoon stated: "Traffic control is also under the purview of the National Police Agency, but we will coordinate closely," stressing that organizers should be encouraged to design courses that allow for detours — and that t...

Moon Hong-kyu

The author is a principal researcher at the Korea Astronomy and Space Science Institute.

Only a few days have passed since I opened a new calendar. The days yet to come are still wound tight, like a spring. Numbers burst open each date as if a cuckoo were leaping from a clock to announce the day. Everyone knows that a day is the time it takes the Earth to rotate once with respect to the sun, and a year is the time it takes to complete one orbit. The problem begins after that.

Multiply 365 days by 24 hours and it should come out neatly to 8,760 hours. Yet, like coffee grounds stuck to the bottom of a cup, there remains an extra 5 hours, 48 minutes and 45.2 seconds in a year around the sun. That is why Feb. 29 is added and removed every four years.

Perhaps my eyesight has worsened again. I squint, glasses perched on the tip of my nose, trying to make out the tiny lunar calendar numbers. A lunar month, from full moon to full moon or from new moon to new moon, averages 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes and 2.9 seconds. Once again, there is leftover change in a year, about 13 hours.

The moon travels along an elliptical orbit, sometimes pulling away to a distance that is three or four times Earth's diameter farther than at its closest approach. As a result, each lunar month can vary by about seven hours from year to year. A supermoon is simply a full moon seen when the moon is closer to Earth.

What if a day, a month and a year fit together as precisely as interlocking gears, fixed at 24 hours, 30 days and 360 days, with the moon gliding elegantly along a perfect circle? Because of those remainders and that elliptical path, someone had to scrutinize the motions of the sun, moon and stars, grappling with calculations. Astronomy began that way.

Late last year, an overseas researcher visited the institute to present studies of exoplanets observed with the James Webb Space Telescope. The research captured signals of dimming light when so-called super-Earths and mini-Neptunes, with masses ranging from 1.2 to 9.6 times that of Earth, passed in front of their host stars.

Those worlds are heated to extremes, from temperatures comparable to grilling fish to conditions near molten lava. The likelihood of life there appears slim. Their years last anywhere from a day and a half to just 17 days as they skim close to their stars. Many are likely tidally locked, with their rotation period matching their orbital period so that a day and a year are the same.

In places where clocks and calendars coincide, life, too, might be correspondingly simple.

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 an editorial writer at the JoongAng Ilbo.

There is a growing fear that Korea is once again heading down a losing path. After Poland, now Canada looms as the next test. Late last year, a Korean "one team" consortium led by Hanwha Ocean and HD Hyundai Heavy Industries failed to win Poland's Orka submarine program, losing out to Sweden's Saab. Poland was expected to serve as a bridgehead for Korea's defense exports into Europe. Seoul even offered to transfer a retiring Jangbogo-class submarine free of charge. It was not enough.

There were multiple reasons behind Poland's choice, but the Polish defense minister repeatedly emphasized operational requirements in the Baltic Sea. The waters off Poland average just 50 (164 feet) to 100 meters deep. Facing Russia as its principal adversary, Poland wanted submarines capable of operating freely in such shallow seas. Korea, however, proposed a 3,600-ton diesel-electric submarine, the largest in its class. It was akin to recommending a fully loaded Genesis sedan to a customer looking for a compact Avante. Saab proposed a 2,000-ton platform.

Despite this background, President Lee Jae Myung told Poland's president during a meeting in New York last September that Korean weapons offered strong quality, value for money and reliable delivery schedules. With Lee having pledged to elevate Korea into the world's top four arms exporters, critics say he missed the strategic point.

A similar misstep now appears possible ahead of Canada's Canadian Patrol Submarine Project, or CPSP, with proposals due in early March. Canada plans to acquire up to 12 submarines. Including maintenance and life cycle costs over 30 years, the project could be worth as much as 60 trillion won (about $41 billion), making it the largest single defense export opportunity in Korea's history. Korea's rival is Germany's ThyssenKrupp Marine Systems, from a country that is the birthplace of the U-boat. German submarines also served as the technological foundation for Korea's own fleet.

In October last year, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney personally toured Hanwha Ocean's shipyard in Geoje. Kim Min-seok, who accompanied him at the time, later recalled that Carney said he was not dealing with Hanwha as a company but with the Republic of Korea as a whole. The remark captured the essence of the competition.

As Carney suggested, large defense contracts are not corporate deals but government-to-government projects. Canada has sounded out Korea on an 18-item economic cooperation package tied to the submarine bid. At its core is support for Canada's domestic auto industry. Canada's industry minister has even floated the idea that Germany's Volkswagen proposed building an electric vehicle battery plant in the country, while asking whether Korean automakers would consider establishing local production facilities. Germany has gone further, offering offset arrangements involving critical minerals, liquefied natural gas and hydrogen cooperation.

Governments cannot dictate where private companies invest. For automakers already expanding U.S. production in response to Trump-era tariffs, building plants in Canada could add to management burdens. Still, governments can seek creative solutions by offering incentives, coordinating joint investments and encouraging cooperation among firms. As Germany has demonstrated, major countries are already aligning their domestic stakeholders behind government-to-government projects with urgency.

Yet with less than two months remaining before proposal submissions, there is little visible sign of such coordination between the Korean government and relevant companies. Some observers even speak of discord between the National Security Office and the National Policy Office.

Mega nuclear and defense export bids are, by nature, presidential projects. Both credit and blame ultimately rest with the president. That was the case with the Lee Myung-bak administration's nuclear power deal in the United...

Lee Hyun-sang

The author is a columnist at the JoongAng Ilbo.

Public reaction to former President Yoon Suk Yeol and his wife, former first lady Kim Keon Hee, has been marked not only by anger but by bewilderment. In a country that calls itself a democracy, the sight of a presidential couple crossing lines that power should never cross, without caution or restraint, has been jarring. Yoon's declaration of martial law on Dec. 3, 2024, was shocking in constitutional terms. More troubling, at least to this writer, were the allegations surrounding Kim, including illicit financial dealings and the privatization of public authority. Korea often speaks of "imperial power," but there was little imperial dignity in how power was exercised.

A similar pattern has surfaced in the local political arena of Dongjak District in Seoul. The allegations surrounding Democratic Party (DP) lawmaker Kim Byung-kee and his spouse remain under investigation and await judicial judgment. Still, based on what has emerged so far, the logic by which power operates and justifies itself bears a striking resemblance to the Yoon-Kim former presidential couple saga. Claims of cash transfers involving a spouse, abuse of authority for private gain, mistreatment of aides and attempts to conceal evidence amount to what critics call a local version of the Yoon-Kim former presidential couple affair.

Kim Byung-kee, a former National Intelligence Service official, has styled himself as a "black agent" for President Lee Jae Myung. True to his background, his actions revealed through media reports appear meticulous and calculating. He allegedly approached a then-ruling People Power Party lawmaker he had once criticized as a key pro-Yoon figure to seek help in blunting an investigation into his wife. He reportedly recorded a colleague's plea for mercy as a precaution. His efforts to block the release of restaurant CCTV footage have fueled suspicions of evidence tampering. When faced with threats to survival and interest, he seemed to observe few boundaries.

It is telling that the scandal was triggered by allegations of abuse toward aides. Reports that staff were ordered to investigate a son's university transfer or were pressed into handling private moves despite being paid with public funds were startling. Parliamentary aides appeared to have been treated as personal servants. The episode exposed how a constituency, meant to be a space of public responsibility, had become a privately controlled domain.

More serious still is the alleged manipulation of candidate nominations. Petitions submitted by former district council members claim that cash was handed to Kim's spouse around the 2020 general election and later returned. The documents even suggest the spouse remarked that the amount was too large for a holiday gift but too small for a nomination contribution. There are also claims that a district council corporate card was handed over and used for private purposes. The facts must be established. Even so, it is difficult to avoid suspicion that public authority was turned into a tool for private transactions.

It would be naive to think such practices are confined to Dongjak. Allegations have already surfaced involving lawmaker Kang Sun-woo and a Seoul city council member over a 100 million won ($69,000) payment tied to nominations. When central politics effectively controls local nominations, it is reasonable to suspect that such shadowy dealings are structural rather than exceptional. Claims that tens of millions of won changed hands in snack shopping bags no longer sound implausible.

These cases show how easily local politics can be distorted when captured by the center. They also help explain why local councils repeatedly become entangled in licensing and permitting scandals. A system that funnels power and resources upward ultimately reduces local politics to a private instrument of national politicians. The observation by Gregory Henderson that Korean politics re...

China has moved to retaliate against Japan by banning rare earth exports, escalating economic pressure through the full prohibition of so-called dual-use materials that can be diverted for military purposes. The measure underscores Beijing's red line over the Taiwan Strait. It also includes the threat of a secondary boycott, warning that third countries reexporting Chinese rare earths to Japan would face punishment.

China has repeatedly wielded rare earths as a blunt instrument during diplomatic disputes. Last year, when Beijing tightened controls on rare earth magnet exports, Ford Motor temporarily halted production and the U.S. President Donald Trump administration eased some semiconductor export restrictions to China. In 2010, during the Senkaku Islands dispute, China suspended rare earth shipments to Japan, prompting Tokyo to release a detained Chinese captain within a day. The episode remains a touchstone for how quickly economic coercion can yield political results.

Although the current action targets Japan, the message to Korea is unmistakable. The timing is difficult to dismiss as coincidence: The announcement came during President Lee Jae Myung's state visit to China. Beijing appears to be signaling that if Korea takes steps deemed contrary to Chinese interests, including on Taiwan-related issues, it could face similar retaliation. At the same time, China has rolled out warm protocol and language of goodwill toward Seoul, while subtly attempting to drive a wedge between Korea and Japan. The calculus may also reflect Seoul's plans for President Lee to visit Japan later this month to meet Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi.

Korea cannot afford to choose sides in an intensifying China–Japan standoff. President Lee acknowledged as much at a recent press conference, saying Korea's role is limited for now. That candor reflects an increasingly constrained diplomatic space. Still, restraint is not the same as inaction. There is no alternative to managing relations with China while deepening cooperation with Japan. Avoiding entanglement must not become an excuse for being unprepared.

Beyond diplomacy, Korea needs urgent economic security measures to shore up its rare earth exposure. The numbers are stark. According to the Korea Customs Service, Korea depends on China for nearly 90 percent of its rare earth raw materials, far higher than Japan's reliance in the 70 percent range. More than 90 percent of permanent magnets essential for electric vehicles are sourced from China. Gallium, a key material for next-generation power semiconductors, is dominated by China with a 98 percent share of global output. Graphite, critical for battery anodes, also carries a China dependence of about 97 percent.

This structure leaves Korea acutely vulnerable. A squeeze on even a single item could reverberate across core industries. Diversifying supply chains, expanding stockpiles, strengthening mineral partnerships with countries such as Australia and Canada and investing in recycling technologies are no longer optional. They are preventive steps that must be taken before economic coercion becomes a reality.

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 Sarah Chea and read by an artificial voice.

LAS VEGAS — From robots dealing blackjack to boxing opponents and running marathons, CES 2026 was a robotics spectacular, with nearly all of the standout innovations coming from Chinese companies.

Contrary to some assumptions, U.S. tensions with China did not keep Chinese firms away from the show. The Las Vegas Convention Center's North Hall ended up becoming effectively a showcase for Chinese robotics, with few competitors from other countries making a noticeable mark.

Hangzhou-based Unitree Robotics stole attention with its G1 humanoid, decked out in a hat and suit while performing Michael Jackson's signature moonwalk.

Nearby, a robot dressed in boxing gear demonstrated its fighting prowess, fresh from winning the world's first martial arts robot championship.

Unitree, known for being the fastest mover in the robotics race in China, recently unveiled its R1 humanoid robot, priced at a $4,900 — a quarter of the estimated $20,000 cost for Tesla's upcoming humanoid Optimus. Unitree has partnered with e-commerce giant JD.com to open its first robotics store in Beijing, bringing humanoids directly to consumers.

That's shockingly cheap even compared to Boston Dynamics' robot dog Spot, with prices starting from $74,500. Its Atlas humanoid, still under development, is expected to exceed $100,000.

Meanwhile, visitors to the Nvidia booth at the Fontainebleau Las Vegas were greeted by AgiBot Innovation's guiding humanoid, which led attendees to the booth's starting point with a friendly, "Come follow me."

AgiBot recently became the world's first company to ship 5,000 humanoid robots worldwide.

Shenzhen-based UBTech Robotics' Walker S2 was also on display at the trade show, running tirelessly at speeds of up to 7.2 kilometers per hour (4.47 miles per hour) and capable of swapping its own battery autonomously.

Amid the overwhelming presence of Chinese firms, Korea made a modest showing at the booth of M.AX Alliance, an associations of 1,300 Korean firms and organizations, including Samsung Electronics and Hyundai Motor, and backed by Korea's Industry Ministry.

But most of the Korean demonstrations were limited to upper-body or hand movements, falling short compared to Chinese humanoids.

China filed 5,688 humanoid robot patents between 2020 and 2024, vastly outpacing the United States' 1,483 and Japan's 1,195, according to Morgan Stanley's "Humanoid 100" report.

"China is both the world's largest producer and consumer of robots, strategically deploying them to automate key manufacturing sectors, including electronics, automobiles and industrial machinery," said the Korea Institute for Industrial Economics & Trade in a recent report.

Last year alone, China installed 295,000 new industrial robots, a 7 percent increase from 2024, accounting for 54 percent of global installations.

"It's shocking how inexpensive China can make the robots," Boston Dynamics CEO Robert Playter told the Korea JoongAng Daily on the sidelines of the CES 2026. "I don't really think they're paying for themselves yet. The Chinese government is subsidizing," he added.

Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang predicted that humanoids could reach human-level capabilities within the year.

While Nvidia provides AI computing platforms to most of China's big robotics companies, such as AgiBot and Unitree, Korean companies have yet to gain access to these resources.

This article is by Kim Kyung-mi and read by an artificial voice.

A growing number of Korean small- and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) are tapping into Southeast Asian markets by teaming up with K-pop idols and influencers, supported by a government-backed program that connects them with the overseas networks of major companies.

At a pop-up store in Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam, Lee Jang-jun of the now-defunct K-pop boy band Golden Child holds up a pair of women's sandals with a smile, drawing curious glances and laughter from nearby shoppers.

The scene is part of "Idol Store K," a YouTube show produced by SBS Medianet that features K-pop idols and actors promoting products from SMEs in Korea and Vietnam. The program also airs on Korea's SBS FiL channel and Vietnam's state-run broadcaster Ho Chi Minh City Radio and Television.

Mac Moc, a Korean footwear brand, appeared on the show in 2024 and has leveraged the opportunity to grow its customer base in Southeast Asian markets. The brand joined the show through the co-prosperity program that fosters exchange between large and small businesses, organized by the Korea Foundation for Cooperation of Large & Small Business, Rural Affairs (Kofca).

Mac Moc marketed its products through celebrity-driven YouTube content and live commerce sessions hosted by Vietnamese influencers. In its first year on the show, the company doubled its share of foreign customers and posted 50 million won ($34,500) in overseas sales.

"We joined the co-prosperity program when the Korean market became saturated and we needed to grow abroad," a company representative said. "We've seen steady results, including 46.2 million won in sales from live commerce in Singapore, Malaysia and other Southeast Asian markets."

The number of success stories among small businesses has increased under the co-prosperity program. It helps SMEs enter foreign markets by leveraging the overseas infrastructure and networks of large companies and public institutions. Participating businesses also receive practical support, including marketing assistance, translation and local market consulting.

Between 2022 and 2025, a total of 3,376 SMEs took part in the co-prosperity program. They entered 37 countries — including the United States, France, Vietnam and Saudi Arabia — and secured a total of 878.3 billion won in exports, including on-site sales and follow-up contracts.

This year, the co-prosperity program focused on two key areas: consumer goods that can be promoted through Korean pop culture content and industrial goods that can leverage the overseas networks of large corporations.

Kofca helped recruit and select lead companies for the co-prosperity program, while those lead companies — typically large firms or public institutions — oversaw project operations and selected the participating SMEs. This approach gave companies more autonomy and allowed them to access tax benefits through the co-prosperity fund. In 2025, 39 large companies and public institutions ran 47 projects, with 1,467 SMEs currently participating.

SBS Medianet, one of the lead companies for the co-prosperity program, has supported small brands through shows such as "Idol Store K" and "Idol ABC Tour," which feature Korean celebrities and foreign influencers introducing products from SMEs to global audiences. The network focused on helping companies with limited marketing budgets and limited promotional channels.

Participating brands, including Mac Moc, also used the intellectual property of the shows to launch on overseas e-commerce platforms and showcase their goods at B2B export fairs. Over the past four years, about 160 SMEs have expanded into Southeast Asia with the help of SBS Medianet.

"It's a win for the broadcaster as well, since we get to introduce quality Korean products to young people in Southeast Asia who are interested in Korean culture while offering them a new style of entertainment content," an SBS Medianet representative said. "We're also expand...

This article is by Cho Yong-jun, Park Eun-jee and read by an artificial voice.

[KEY PLAYER]

Bom Kim, the billionaire founder of Coupang, became the paragon of startup success as he scaled up the e-commerce platform in Korea to emulate the rise of Jeff Bezos' Amazon, marking one of the country's first cases of a small firm leveraging global venture capital to expand out of the country.

But Coupang's perceived negligence over data protection and lack of accountability are now threatening to undo much of what he built, recasting a once-touted startup legend as a target of public anger from both the Korean public and lawmakers.

What began as a privacy failure with the recent data breach of 33.7 million users is now quickly morphing into a full-blown ethical and reputational crisis after the Coupang chief refused to directly address the failure at the National Assembly.

Even before the data breach, public sentiment toward the company began to sour over lapses in risk management despite solid growth in its finances.

Flashpoint rooted in U.S. citizenship

Born in Seoul in 1978, Kim moved to the United States at a young age, following his father, who was sent there for work. Kim, currently residing in the United States, received his U.S. citizenship and naturally had his Korean passport revoked, but has been visiting Korea here and there.

Kim graduated from Harvard University before dropping out of Harvard Business School, but his entrepreneurship was already established during his undergraduate days. He founded Current Magazine, targeting elite graduates, which was sold to Newsweek, and 02138 — referring to Harvard's postcode — an alumni magazine.

That entrepreneurial spirit that has sent Kim's net worth soaring to around $3.9 billion, according to Forbes, has now set him on a collision course with Korea's parliament. His ties to Korea — and lack of citizenship — have drawn criticism that commonly emerges when a foreign nationality or residential status is perceived to be used to evade responsibility in Korea, where leaders often take responsibility publicly in times of crisis, such as Samsung Electronics Executive Chairman Lee Jae-yong, who attended parliamentary hearings and was jailed in relation to a scandal surrounding former President Park Geun-hye.

Kim, so far, is not adhering to that custom.

"As I currently reside and work abroad and have official business appointments as the CEO of a global company operating in over 170 countries, I regret to inform you that I am unable to attend the hearing in person," read a statement submitted to the National Assembly by Kim on Dec. 14 of last year in response to a request that he appear for questioning over the recent data leak.

Some critics have even gone as far as referring to the CEO with a derogatory term that literally translates to a "black-haired foreigner," typically used against ethnic Koreans holding foreign citizenship for evading social or legal responsibilities in Korea while profiting from business ties.

Long-simmering concerns emerge into public view

Kim's latest approach to the recent data leak scandal is reminiscent of an incident in 2015 when he denied the National Assembly appearance in connection with unfair business practices.

The e-commerce platform's founder cited "back injuries caused after playing basketball" as the reason and went on to step down as the CEO of Coupang in Korea in December 2020, following the suspected death of a worker surnamed Jang by overwork at a logistics facility.

The sudden resignation triggered the suspicion that the move was an attempt to avoid being held accountable under the Serious Accidents Punishment Act in the wake of the death.

Coupang and its logistics subsidiary, Coupang Fulfillment Services, have experienced the deaths of several logistics workers, which many attribute to the company's "Rocket Delivery" service that focuses on delivery speed, resulting in increased night deliveries and performance requirements — and the co...