Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

This article is by Ha Su-young and read by an artificial voice.

For years, U.S. investigators say he moved money for Pyongyang in the shadows, laundering stolen cryptocurrency across borders and buying everything from Marlboro tobacco to helicopters. Now the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) has put a $7 million price on Sim Hyon-sop, an alleged financial fixer for North Korean leader Kim Jong-un's regime.

U.S. authorities believe Sim played a central role in laundering cryptocurrency stolen by North Korean IT workers and hackers, converting the proceeds into cash used to purchase goods for the Pyongyang regime.

"As of mid-2024, more than 50 North Korean bankers were operating outside the country," the Wall Street Journal reported Wednesday, citing materials from the Financial Action Task Force (FATF). Among them, the newspaper highlighted Sim, who allegedly operated mainly in the Middle East under aliases such as "Sim Ali" or "Sim Hajim," according to the FBI.

A graduate of one of Pyongyang's elite universities, Sim is known to be fluent in English and Chinese. He was dispatched overseas as the head of a subsidiary of North Korea's Foreign Trade Bank and worked in Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates (UAE).

Ryu Hyun-woo, a former acting chargé d'affaires at the North Korean Embassy in Kuwait who defected in 2019, said he met Sim more than 10 times while stationed there.

Ryu told the WSJ that Sim "would pick him up in a Toyota Land Cruiser and they would frequently dine with other North Korean operatives." The defector also said that "Sim described to him how he would launder money, including how Sim moved it between different countries and shell companies, and paid brokers to obscure the sources of the funds."

Ryu said many North Koreans worked in the UAE "as computer programmers and some stole crypto on the side - and someone had to handle their funds."

Profits earned by North Korean IT workers and cryptocurrency hackers were first sent to Sim in digital assets. Sim or his associates then routed the funds through multiple digital wallets to obscure their origins before transferring them to brokers in the UAE or China.

The brokers converted the cryptocurrency into cash and deposited it into bank accounts belonging to shell companies. Sim then used the funds to purchase goods for the North Korean regime - a process Pyongyang believed would help it evade international sanctions by keeping the money from passing directly through North Korean accounts.

The items Sim allegedly procured ranged from raw materials used to produce counterfeit cigarettes bearing brands such as Marlboro to communications equipment and even helicopters. Sim is believed to have lived a lavish lifestyle in return.

However, the illicit funds eventually drew scrutiny when they passed through the payment systems of major U.S. banks such as Citibank and JPMorgan Chase, as well as European lenders including Deutsche Bank and HSBC.

"In one of Sim's schemes, U.S. banks including Citibank, JPMorgan and Wells Fargo unknowingly processed at least 310 transactions worth about $74 million for Pyongyang, according to one of the indictments and related court documents," reported the WSJ.

The UAE revoked Sim's residency visa in 2019 in line with UN sanctions against North Korea, though his actual departure was delayed by nearly three years due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

The FBI has since raised the reward for information leading to Sim's arrest to $7 million. He is wanted on charges including conspiracy to commit bank fraud, money laundering and evasion of sanctions against North Korea. His whereabouts remain unknown.

The U.S. Treasury Department believes Sim traveled to Dandong, a Chinese border city, after being expelled from the UAE, though this has not been confirmed.

Beijing's Foreign Ministry said in a statement to the WSJ that "China is unaware of Sim's activities and is opposed to what it sees as unilateral U.S. Treasury sanctions," according to the U.S. ...

This article is by Park Yu-mi and read by an artificial voice.

Korea's $400 billion foreign reserve has come under scrutiny as the country strives to weather the headwinds of an ongoing drop in the won's value against the dollar, as well as the soon-to-begin $20 billion annual investment requirement for the United States.

Foreign exchange reserves refer to foreign currency-denominated assets held to offset balance-of-payments imbalances or stabilize the foreign exchange market. In short, they are the nation's "dollar stamina" - emergency funds to be tapped into during a currency crisis. After the dollar shortage of the 1997 financial crisis, Korea came to view $400 billion in foreign-exchange reserves as a psychological "red line" to stay above.

Korea's foreign exchange reserves stood at nearly $430.7 billion as of the end of November, according to the Bank of Korea (BOK) on Thursday. That figure is a rise of $1.84 billion from a month earlier, driven by higher investment returns and an increase in foreign currency deposits by financial institutions.

By size, Korea's reserves rank ninth in the world. After first surpassing $400 billion in June 2018, the country's reserves climbed to around $460 billion during the Covid-19 pandemic in 2021, before declining and then rebounding to hover in the low $400 billion range in recent months.

The latest round of debate over the adequacy of reserves was sparked by the government's active market intervention after the won skyrocketed to around 1,480 per dollar. Despite the central bank's own set of efforts to curb currency volatility in what's called a smoothing operation, concerns emerge that foreign reserves could still decline for the time being.

The won-dollar exchange dropped sharply to 1,449.8 won against the dollar - down 33.8 won from Tuesday's close of 1,483.6 won - after the government signaled its strong intent for intervention on Wednesday.

Adding to the pressure is the fact that Korea has promised to directly invest $20 billion every year in the United States per its recent tariff negotiations. The government maintains that such investments will be financed within the scope of interest and dividend income from the reserves, meaning that the principal will not be affected. However, they could still add downward pressure.

"If reserves fall below $400 billion, it creates psychological anxiety [for the market]," said Kim Jung-sik, a professor emeritus at Yonsei University. "It is not easy to defend the exchange rate by using reserves at this point."

As a result, some argue that $400 billion in "ammunition" may not be sufficient. Based on lessons from past currency crises, experts contend that reserves should be large enough to cover at least one year of imports of goods and services. Using last year's annual import figure of about $632 billion, Korea's current reserves of $430.6 billion amount to roughly just eight months' worth.

By contrast, Japan - which plans $550 billion of investment in the United States - holds reserves of $1.23 trillion, equivalent to about 19 months of imports based on its 2023 import total of $742.67 billion.

Korea also ranks on the lower end among Asian countries when measured by reserves compared to GDP. Korea's foreign exchange reserve came in at $415.6 billion at the end of 2024, or about 22.2 percent of its $1.87 trillion GDP. Japan, on the other hand, held foreign reserves amounting to 30.6 percent of its nominal GDP.

Taiwan presents an even starker contrast. Its nominal GDP of $797 billion is less than half of Korea's, yet its foreign exchange reserves stand at $576.7 billion - a hefty 73.7 percent of GDP. Taiwan's reserves surpassed $600 billion in September.

"Direct investment in the United States totaling $200 billion over the next decade, along with $150 billion in support related to the Make America Shipbuilding Great Again [Masga] shipbuilding cooperation, could heighten dollar shortages and exchange-rate instability in the short term,"...

This article is by Yi Woo-lim and read by an artificial voice.

Korean tech companies are making their final preparations for CES 2026, the world's largest consumer electronics trade show, which will take place from Jan. 6 to 9, 2026. Themed "Innovators Show Up," the event will feature over 4,500 companies from around the globe.

While CES 2025 explored the potential of AI technology under the theme "Dive In," next year's show will go a step further by focusing on how AI can tangibly change home appliances and living spaces.

The Consumer Technology Association (CTA), the event's organizer, highlighted four core themes - AI, robotics, mobility and digital health - with an emphasis on AI's evolution.

CES 2026 will shift away from generative AI's capacity to create images and text and focus on its ability to understand user intent, autonomously perform tasks and integrate with hardware, including robots and mobility devices, to interact with the physical world.

Hyundai Motor Group, the United States' Boston Dynamics, China's Unitree Robotics and Sweden's Hexagon are all expected to unveil AI-powered humanoid robots.

Samsung Electronics, which usually hosts a large booth at the Las Vegas Convention Center, will instead operate a "Your Companion to AI Living" exhibit at the Wynn hotel's Latour Ballroom. The company aims to boost audience engagement and showcase its AI ecosystem in one centralized space.

Samsung will also unveil the industry's first refrigerator to feature Gemini, Google's generative AI model. The Bespoke AI refrigerator uses an internal camera to identify ingredients and - thanks to Gemini - has significantly improved its range of detectable items from the previous 37 fresh foods and 50 processed or packaged items.

In the TV category, Samsung will expand its lineup with displays using micro RGB technology.

LG Electronics will highlight its robotics technology as part of its "Zero Labor Home" vision. In a teaser video released on Thursday for its next-generation home robot, "LG CLOiD," a robotic hand is shown fist-bumping a person and moving objects around the house.

An upgrade from the earlier Q9 mobile robot, CLOiD features two robotic arms, each with five fingers, signaling its evolution into a physical AI capable of offering practical help with household chores.

The day before CES opens, LG will host a "world premiere" event under the theme of "Innovation in tune with you." The company plans to demonstrate "empathetic AI" that can connect various spaces and products - from homes to mobility solutions and commercial environments - and provide tailored user experiences.

CES 2026 will also serve as a debut stage for Samsung Electronics President Roh Tae-moon, now free of the "acting" title, and newly appointed LG Electronics President Lyu Jae-cheol. Both companies are expected to spotlight "lifestyle-embedded technologies" that combine AI with hardware.

The moves of global tech giants' executives will also be closely watched. Keynote speakers include AMD CEO Lisa Su, Lenovo CEO Yang Yuanqing and Siemens CEO Roland Busch.

Jensen Huang, the CEO of Nvidia and a keynote speaker at CES 2025, will appear as a special speaker at the "Nvidia Live" event.

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 Woo Ji-won and read by an artificial voice.

In 2019, the country recorded the world's second-highest per capita seafood consumption at 56.6 kilograms (128 pounds) - more than double the global average of about 20 kilograms - according to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization.

Yet some of the seafood dishes Koreans cherish remain largely unknown beyond the peninsula.

Sea snails, called golbaengi in Korean, are a representative case. While the species is largely shunned in other countries - except for a few like France and Japan - Koreans just can't get enough of them. According to industry sources, 90 percent of the world's golbaengi production is consumed in Korea, while imports of frozen, pre-boiled sea snails in January increased 33 percent from a year earlier, according to Union Forsee, Korea's largest seafood platform.

The enduring appeal of the rare seafood options in the country lies not only in easy access to surrounding waters but in the way these ingredients have been woven into everyday cooking and even evolved into signature dishes of their own.

From shellfish that resemble a turtle's foot to black, bumpy, squishy creatures, these seafoods may look unfamiliar - even intimidating - but in Korean kitchens, they are dishes prized for their flavor, texture and seasonality.

Sea snails (golbaengi)

In central Seoul, there is an entire alley devoted to one humble seafood: golbaengi. Tucked around Euljiro 3-ga Station in central Seoul, rows of eateries serve golbaengi-muchim - spicy, tangy seasoned sea snails mixed with vegetables like cucumber and onion.

Over time, golbaengi-muchim found its place as a national bar snack. It has since evolved, now featuring more intricate sauces, a wider variety of vegetables and a serving of wheat noodles. In its evolution, it has maintained its status as a perfect dish to enjoy with drinks.

Its popularity and heavy demand, however, led to overfishing in the East Sea, depleting local stocks. Beginning in the early 1990s, Korean canneries looked to overseas imports - particularly from Britain, where fishermen are known to head out each November, harvesting sea snails destined almost exclusively for Korea.

Today, Korea imports an average of about 4.5 million tons of sea snails annually, according to a 2024 report by the Korea Institute for Maritime Strategy. Britain accounts for 73 percent of imports, followed by Ireland at 22.9 percent.

Sea squirt (meongge)

At Korean sashimi restaurants, the dishes extend beyond what diners order. Complimentary plates are often served, and among them, the most common is meongge, or sea squirt.

And those who love its unique aroma often go further, enjoying it as bibimbap. Chopped vegetables such as lettuce, perilla leaves, water parsley and onions are combined with a gochujang (chili paste) sauce enriched with minced garlic. Mixed with rice, it turns into a satisfying meal.

That distinctive flavor, combined with its off-putting appearance - a bumpy mass of orange and red - and its briny aroma, can be challenging even for seasoned diners, which explains its limited appeal beyond Korea, with only niche consumption in Japan.

Meongge is especially favored by Korea's older generations who grew up eating it, and the average per capita consumption stood at 0.11 kilograms, according to data from the Korea Health Industry.

Freshwater snails (daseulgi)

On a lucky day, snack carts near coastal attractions can be seen ladling warm daseulgi - freshwater snails resembling miniature conch shells - into paper cups.

Served hot and lightly salted, daseulgi is eaten with toothpicks, with each tiny piece pulled from its shell.

"They were very popular among ordinary people in the 1970s and 1980s," said Kang Choon-ja, who sold daseulgi for more than 30 years at a market in Daegu, where they were known as godi and sourced from local gatherers.

Often confused with daseulgi for its similar appearance is bomal, a top shell sea snail native to...

This article is by Woo Ji-won and read by an artificial voice.

Black padded jackets zipped to the chin. Scarves pulled tight around necks.

On a recent Wednesday afternoon in Hongdae, Mapo District, western Seoul, roughly 100 people stood outside a sashimi restaurant, stamping their feet to keep warm.

"We've been waiting for about an hour," said Kim Min-ji, who stood near the front of the queue with two friends, braving the cold for what everyone else was there for as well - thick slices of bangeo, or yellowtail.

In recent winters, yellowtail has become a seasonal must-eat in Korea, particularly among younger diners. Cherished for its firm yet tender texture and rich, clean flavor, yellowtail's flesh has a satisfying chew, similar to tuna, but with a higher fat content that gives it a buttery mouthfeel.

"We even opened 30 minutes earlier at 1:30 p.m. because people had been waiting for so long," a restaurant staffer said. "Some customers start lining up around 11 a.m. to make it into the first seating." Kim was not even close to making it into the first round.

Among those waiting was Venus, a tourist from Hong Kong. "My friend recommended this place for yellowtail," she said, adding that she had also waited about an hour just to receive a queue number. After being assigned queue No. 10, she and her friend headed to a nearby cafe to wait.

Much of the yellowtail craze revolves around hoe, or sliced raw fish, with the smallest serving - typically meant for two - priced at around 70,000 won ($50). Japan, the world's largest producer and consumer of yellowtail, shows a similar fondness for the fish, though it is also widely enjoyed there as chobap - raw fish on vinegared rice - and in cooked dishes.

While yellowtail is eaten in coastal regions around the world - including as an ingredient in poke in Hawaii and elsewhere in the United States - it is in Japan and Korea that the fish carries its strongest appeal as a winter staple.

Diners in Korea are particularly fixated on dae-bangeo, or large-sized yellowtail weighing more than 5 kilograms (11 pounds). In practice, however, many vendors and consumers believe a fish should weigh at least 8 kilograms to qualify as dae-bangeo.

Many vendors could be seen showing off their largest yellowtails, mainly because diners seek out fully grown fish, having come to realize that bigger is better. A longer growth period allows fat to build up more evenly throughout the flesh, producing thicker slices, richer oil content and a deeper flavor.

"Now is prime time for dae-bangeo - it's at its fattiest," Oh added. Bangeo are at their best around this time of year to February, when yellowtail build up a thick layer of fat to survive colder waters, bringing their richness to a seasonal peak. "The demand for yellowtail is also at its peak right now," said Oh.

Despite the availability of other fish, such as rockfish and flounder, vendors - including Oh - primarily promoted only yellowtail. Another vendor, surnamed Kim, was among those calling out their bangeo, even as other fish were on display. He said that while all parts are fatty and delicious, the belly, or baekkopsal, is the most desirable cut. "The middle section is where the fat is most concentrated," he said.

The popularity of yellowtail is evident online. Posts listing must-visit yellowtail restaurants draw floods of likes and shares. On Instagram alone, posts tagged with "bangeo" surpassed 353,000 as of Dec. 18.

Yellowtail was not a staple on Korean tables until the early 2010s, even though it has long been caught in Korean waters. Records from the "Veritable Records of the Joseon Dynasty" dating to 1413 note its presence.

As a migratory species, the yellowtail traditionally inhabits the East Sea during summer and moves south toward Jeju Island in winter in search of warmer waters. As a result, yellowtail previously available inland were often caught in summer, after they had shed much of their fat. Lean and dry, it failed to win over diner...

This article is by Special Reporting Team and read by an artificial voice.

A growing number of middle-aged and older Korean men are falling into "relationship poverty," as unemployment, retirement and family discord sever social ties and push them into isolation that existing welfare systems struggle to reach.

Those affected by relationship poverty often did not see it coming, as in the case of 67-year-old Kim Sang-min, who worked for more than 20 years at a major construction company before retiring.

Kim tried his hand at several businesses after retiring, but none worked out. As debts piled up, his family life fell apart. He got divorced, after which he lost contact with his spouse and daughter.

It's been five years since he moved to Sillim-dong, a neighborhood in southern Seoul packed with one-room accommodations, where he lives alone. His health has since deteriorated. After undergoing surgery for a herniated disk, he can no longer take on day labor. He survives day by day on meals provided by charities.

Going outside feels like a "luxury" to Kim. He may meet a close friend once a year, if that. After being defrauded by a neighbor he trusted, he became reluctant to form new relationships. Even when friends text or call, Kim avoids responding.

"I live because I can't die," Kim said in a phone interview with the JoongAng Ilbo. It had been "the first time in days" that he opened his mouth to talk to someone else.

Men in their 40s to 60s, like Kim, are considered a benchmark high-risk group for relationship poverty. A significant number of middle-aged men are sliding toward what experts call an "isolation formula" - job loss, retirement or business failure followed by divorce and then the severing of social ties.

Many of these men rarely ask for help, even during hardship. Experts describe them as a "new welfare blind spot" vulnerable to isolation and withdrawal.

The pattern was self-evident, according to an analysis of 20 cases by a JoongAng Ilbo special reporting team focused on men in their 40s to 60s, welfare officials and individuals cited in government reports, including nine in-depth interviews.

The findings align with a report by the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) titled "Social Connections and Loneliness in OECD Countries," published on Oct. 16, which found that men aged 50 or older, those living alone and those who are unemployed are especially prone to isolation.

Middle-aged men tend to rely on work-centered social networks while having weaker ties with neighbors or family, according to the OECD. Once they withdraw after losing a job or retiring, their social networks often collapse.

A 2025 social survey by Korea's Ministry of Data and Statistics also highlights the lack of social connections among men in their 40s to 60s. Of men aged 60 or older with no social contacts outside of family or relatives, 29.6 percent lacked social connections, while the rate came to 27 percent for those in their 50s and 26.7 percent for those in their 40s, all significantly higher than those for people in their teens through 30s, which ranged from 16.5 percent to 22.4 percent.

The rates were also higher than those of women. Among women, the percentage of those who lacked social connections stood at 27.6 percent for those aged 60 or older, 19.3 percent for those in their 50s and 20.6 percent for those in their 40s.

Among widowed or divorced individuals, men in their 40s to 60s accounted for 72.3 percent, compared to 53 percent for women.

"Middle-aged men are less inclined to rely on community support compared to women of the same generation, and are therefore more prone to isolation," said Han Sang-pil, the director of the Social Security Information Institute under the Korea Social Security Information Service. "They also tend to prioritize social hierarchy when meeting others and feel intense pressure from the belief that it is too late in life to start over, factors that further deepen isolation."

...

The author is a professor at Unist and the head of the Global Industry-University Cooperation Center.

The word chosen by Britain's Collins Dictionary this year is "vibe coding." The idea is simple but disruptive: Give instructions in natural language and AI writes the code instantly. "Vibe" refers to a distinctly human intuition and sense of direction that grasps the essence of a system. In such a world, intention matters more than algorithms and context more than syntax.

For years, markets treated coding ability as a basic measure of survival. At the peak of the AI super cycle, however, a different current is emerging. That shift echoes a prediction by Jensen Huang, the chief executive of Nvidia. "Instead of studying coding, learn biotechnology," he has said. In December 2025, CNBC directly addressed the debate over AI profitability in a report titled "AI's payback problem: Why Wall Street is losing patience with Big Tech's spending." The implication was clear. As machines take care of code, humans must look for new sources of value in solving real-world challenges, from life sciences to energy.

Whether the AI super cycle endures will not depend on how fast technology advances but on where humans choose to deploy it. The central question is shifting from "How do we implement this?" to "What kind of world do we want to build?" Metrics are no longer defined by functional correctness alone but by strategic meaning.

We are standing in the middle of a major transition. The phase of fearing replacement by AI is giving way to a more difficult task: deciding how to ride this powerful wave. The ability to avoid being dominated by platforms and instead secure a meaningful stake in the flow will not come from keyboard proficiency. It will come from original explanatory power and a coherent worldview.

The message left by 2025 is unambiguous. As machines monopolize computation, humans must concentrate on the most human forms of judgment. In the coming year, society should move beyond being absorbed in how skillfully it operates AI tools. What matters is cultivating the discernment to identify where true value will rise in a world reshaped by AI.

What deserves our focus is not the tool itself. It is the questions we ask and the imagination with which we wield that tool to become protagonists of the next supercycle.

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.

Six months after the launch of the Lee Jae Myung administration, the government has appointed a new official to oversee Koreans' retirement savings. On Dec. 15, Kim Sung-joo, a former lawmaker from the Democratic Party, once again assumed office as chair of the National Pension Service (NPS), a role he had previously held from 2017-2020. Kim had sought the party's nomination ahead of the April general election last year in the Jeonju B district of North Jeolla Province but lost in the primary. His rival at the time was Chung Dong-young, who now serves as unification minister.

From the outset, Kim's appointment has prompted unease because of his background as a career politician. The headquarters of the NPS is located in Innovation City in Deokjin-gu, Jeonju, an area that overlaps with Kim's former constituency. If the chairmanship were to be used to rebuild a local political base ahead of the 2028 general election, it would raise serious concerns. Political circles are already speculating that Kim may not complete his legally mandated three-year term: He resigned from the same post at the NPS in 2020 with 10 months remaining in his term before running in a general election. The head of a public institution is meant to serve the interests of the entire nation, not to use it to prepare for future campaigns.

Those worries were amplified by Kim's inaugural address on Dec. 17, which struck many as misplaced. He described a "long-cherished dream" in which the NPS would play a role in solving Korea's housing crisis. Kim argued that the fund should invest to support young people who have postponed marriage and newlyweds seeking stable housing, and that it should act as a financial engine for supplying homes at reasonable prices.

Taken at face value, the remarks sounded less like an address by the head of the pension fund than one by the president of the Korea Land and Housing Corp. There is no dispute that alleviating housing difficulties for young people is a legitimate policy goal. The question is where the resources should come from. That responsibility belongs to public finances. Tapping retirement savings to pursue housing policy objectives is a dangerous proposition. What may be a long-cherished dream for some could become a nightmare for many citizens.

According to the NPS's investment headquarters, total assets under management stood at 1.36 quadrillion won (about $942 billion) as of the end of September. That figure exceeds the government's proposed total spending for next year, 728 trillion won, by more than 600 trillion won. From a politician's perspective, such a vast pool of money is bound to be tempting. Yet restraint is essential, especially when future generations are taken into account. Once the benefits that must eventually be paid to contributors are considered, the fund is already facing a serious shortfall.

Without more fundamental reforms, the depletion of the pension fund is unavoidable. Pension reform legislation passed in March with bipartisan support delayed the exhaustion date but failed to resolve the problem at its core. The National Assembly Budget Office projects that pension expenditures will exceed revenues starting in 2048, pushing the system into deficit, and that the fund will be fully depleted by 2065. In practical terms, this means that someone born in 2000 could reach the eligible age of 65 to receive old-age benefits only to find the fund virtually empty.

To slow the pace of depletion, improving the fund's investment returns is crucial. That does not mean pursuing high yields at any cost. In the world of investment, high returns and high risks are inseparable. The challenge for the NPS is to seek the highest possible returns while managing risk at an appropriate level. This balance becomes even harder to maintain if political considerations intrude, which is why professional expertise and institutional independence are essential.

Rece...

The author is an emeritus professor of North Korean studies at Dongguk University and former director of the Institute for Unification Studies.

North Korea's ninth Workers' Party Congress, which Pyongyang has signaled will be held early next year, is expected to mark another inflection point on the Korean Peninsula. The party congress sets the broad contours of the country's strategic direction and domestic and foreign policies for the next five years. As the North remains a central security actor on the peninsula, the decisions adopted there could shape regional dynamics for years to come.

North Korea defines itself as a form of "real socialism" in which the party comes first. Once the party decides, the state implements. Since the 1980s, however, the Workers' Party has operated irregularly. Party rules under Kim Il Sung mandated a congress every five years, but after the sixth congress in 1980, North Korea failed to convene another for 36 years. Kim Il Sung's instruction to raise living standards and proceed to a seventh congress was never realized. That goal referred to what propaganda described as the people's long-cherished wish to eat white rice with meaty soup, wear silk clothes and live in tiled-roof houses, a stage equated with the "complete victory of socialism." The third seven-year economic plan launched in 1987 collapsed, followed by the famine years known as the "Arduous March," during which countless people died of hunger.

Economic hardship also shaped party governance under Kim Jong-il. His theory of the "sociopolitical organism" likened the leader to the brain and the party to the heart. Without regular congresses, that heart could not function properly. Kim Jong-il went so far as to criticize the party as an "aging" or "corpse" party and elevated the military through the doctrine of songun, or military-first politics. Major decisions were made through direct rule centered on close aides rather than party organs. Kim Jong-il's reluctance to appear in public or deliver speeches contributed to perceptions of a reclusive style of governance.

By contrast, Kim Jong-un, who took power in his late 20s, has focused on restoring party functions and normalizing the party-state system. Since his ascent, party congresses and major meetings have largely followed the schedules set out in party rules and the constitution. North Korea labeled the eighth party congress in 2021 a "turning point." Over the past five years, it has claimed achievements in strengthening party authority, advancing nuclear capabilities, promoting living standards through initiatives such as the "20×10 regional development policy," and deepening alignment with China and Russia.

Against this backdrop, the ninth party congress will be closely watched as a compass for North Korea's ideological line, immediate goals and core policies for the next five years. A key question is whether Pyongyang will formally assess the initiatives launched after the eighth congress and introduce a revised guiding ideology that reflects shifting circumstances. Unlike Kim Jong-il, who sought to preserve his father's legacy intact under the banner of governing by the final say, Kim Jong-un has shown a greater willingness to differentiate himself from his predecessors. Should his approach be articulated alongside that of his father and grandfather, it would signal a milestone in his bid to stand fully on his own.

Another focal point is how the party will codify policy changes toward the South and unification. In late 2023, Kim Jong-un redefined inter-Korean relations as those between "two hostile states." That shift makes revisions unavoidable to party language that had described nationwide democratic development as an immediate objective. How Pyongyang addresses concepts such as occupying and incorporating South Korea in wartime, and its decision to abandon terms like "unification" and "reconciliation," will bear directly on the prospects of engagement pursued by the adm...

The author is a political professor at Yonsei University.

Even Christmas and the year's end, moments meant for quiet reflection, have passed in Korea not with calm but with breathless tension. Individuals may try to step back and review the year just lived, yet at the level of the broader community, there is little sense of closure. Instead, noisy conflict and constant confrontation persist, making it hard to feel that time has reached a meaningful pause. How long must this community continue to live in a state where all its members are locked in perpetual turmoil? Is there no alternative?

Long ago, a thinker divided human life into two archetypes, likening them to "devils of heaven" and "angels of hell," a formulation that unsettles precisely because neither combination can truly exist. In reality, humanity and the world inevitably occupy the space between heaven and hell, angels and devils.

This insight is reflected in the long intellectual debate over human nature. From classical notions of humans as "political animals" or "social animals," through early modern challenges invoking the "state of nature" and the "war of all against all," thinkers gradually converged, across disciplines, on a broad if still contested understanding. Humans are characterized by "antisocial sociability," by the coexistence of selfishness and sympathy, by a dual nature and by the parallel presence of selfish and altruistic impulses. Religions and theologies articulated similar insights much earlier, albeit in different terms.

Once a measure of agreement emerged that the world is neither heaven nor hell and that humans are neither angels nor devils, the central task shifted. The challenge became how to reduce conflict among humans who exist in this in-between state and how to devise institutions capable of making coexistence possible. Above all, it became essential to secure shared ground, public purpose and commonality among people as citizens, beyond the older divide between ruler and subject.

In this process, oaths to God or absolute truth were gradually transformed into contracts and promises among humans themselves, providing a common foundation that both belief and pluralism could share. God and humanity, truth and freedom, religion and politics, conviction and tolerance came to advance in parallel. This was one of modernity's greatest discoveries and one of its deepest paradoxes. It appeared under many names: sovereignty, citizenship, civil society, representation, parliament, the public sphere, the republic and common sense.

What ran through all these ideas was a commitment to dialogue and communication, compromise and parliamentary deliberation in the service of freedom and security. These were not peripheral values but the core mechanisms of conflict mitigation and coexistence. Modern democracy, at its foundation, begins with dialogue, communication and parliament. That is why liberal democracy has also been called parliamentary democracy or dialogic democracy. Democracy cannot be separated from dialogue.

Yet in Korea today, the place where dialogue seems most impossible is precisely politics and the National Assembly. Polarization driven by hostility and resentment is most intense not in markets or civil society, not in religion, gender relations, schools or the media, but in politics and parliament. An institution meant to embody dialogue instead blocks it, treating opponents as criminal or guilty collectives to be excluded. One-sided measures, denunciations and calls for punishment and eradication repeat themselves. The meaning of popular sovereignty, choice and elections fades. Politics begins to resemble a substitute court or a substitute prosecution. At the root lies the disappearance of dialogue.

Even as this erosion continues, those same actors speak to the public about stability and integration and urge schools and educators to teach dialogue, compromise and democracy. One is left to ask who is really in a position to teach ...