Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

Lee Eun-joo

The author is a senior reporter on culture at the JoongAng Ilbo.

People encountering the works of Gyutae Hwang, the 88-year-old pioneer of experimental photography in Korea, are usually surprised at least twice. First, they are startled to learn that the vibrant rhythms and colors before them are not paintings but photographs. Then they are surprised again to discover that the artist, who has been working with digital images since the late 1990s, is an octogenarian. In front of Hwang, fixed notions about genre — or age — lose much of their meaning.

"I suffer from curiosity," he once said. "Curiosity led me to peer through a loupe, and that brought me all the way here."

Hwang made the remark in a 2019 interview with this paper, when his solo exhibition "Pixel" was held at Arario Gallery in Samcheong-dong, central Seoul. Standing before works that radiated powerful energy through geometric patterns and vivid colors, he said he began simply because he was curious and kept going because it was fun. This time, Hwang is holding a solo exhibition, "Beyond The Frame," at UNAW Gallery in Seocho-dong, southern Seoul, through June 13.

Born in Yesan, South Chungcheong, in 1938, Hwang studied political science at Dongguk University and joined the Kyunghyang Daily in 1963, briefly working as a photojournalist. His experiments began after he moved to the United States in 1965. Working as a darkroom technician at a color photo lab, he challenged the traditional methods of photography by burning film, combining images and using double exposure. His later expansion into digital imagery showed that photography could "deconstruct" and "select" images to create a new reality.

Looking back, all of Hwang's experiments were questions in themselves. He persistently asked how far the medium of photography could go. His "Pixel" series, created by radically enlarging existing photographs and working with pixels, the smallest units of an image, stands at the height of that inquiry. In his own language, Hwang revealed that what we have long been looking at is, in fact, an accumulation of countless fragments of data.

There is also an intriguing twist to this journey. While the questions he poses are endlessly philosophical, the works themselves are sensuous and playful. "The variations of geometric patterns are infused with visual rhythm," art critic Moon Hye-jin has written, while machine critic Lee Young-jun has noted Hwang's "highly refined sense of color and light."

"Even now, many people do not see my work as photography. I do not mind," Hwang has said. "What matters is imagining freely and satisfying my curiosity."

For Gyutae Hwang, experimentation has been both a serious inquiry and an enjoyable form of play. His work reminds us that art, at its highest level, is both the ultimate pursuit and the ultimate game.

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.

Hyuncheol Bryant Kim

The author, a medical doctor, is a professor of economy and public policy at Hong Kong University of Science and Technology.

The world's most exceptional talents — the kind who can change the course of history — are not born only in certain countries. They emerge with equal probability across the globe. If Korea can attract such brilliant minds from around the world, it could become a decisive source of national competitiveness.

The United States, a country defined by overwhelming innovation, offers the clearest example. Four of the CEOs of the country's seven largest Big Tech companies are immigrants. Nvidia's Jensen Huang is a 1.5-generation immigrant from Taiwan. Ugur Sahin and his wife, the German scientists who developed the mRNA vaccine that helped save the world, also come from Turkish immigrant families.

In that sense, the Justice Ministry's recently announced "2030 Future Strategy for Immigration Policy" is both welcome and encouraging. It marks the first time the government has clearly expressed, at a national level, its intention to attract highly skilled foreign talent. But revising the visa system alone will not be enough. We need to imagine an inspiring scenario — one in which Korea is revived through talent.

Imagine this: A gifted 15-year-old student from Uzbekistan receives a scholarship and enrolls in an international school in Pohang, where they learn both Korean and English. They earn their undergraduate degree at Yonsei University and their doctorate at KAIST. Later, they become a Korean citizen, launch a startup in Pangyo and, by the age of 45, become the CEO of a global company. Only when such a "full life-cycle path" becomes real can immigrants fundamentally transform Korea.

To make this possible, Korea needs an interministerial "foreign talent master plan." The first step should be to admit young gifted students into boarding-style international schools and science high schools. The United States' Future Leaders Exchange, or FLEX, program has brought talented teenagers from Eastern Europe to America on full scholarships since 1992, helping them move on to universities and settle into society. In this way, the United States absorbed gifted students from around the world as national assets. Likewise, foreign talent is far more likely to settle in Korea if they grow up here from a young age.

Universities are the base camps that anchor the highest-caliber talent. Talent hired by companies can leave Korea at any time if the conditions are not right. Universities, by contrast, can hold elite talent in place more stably, directly contributing to Korea's research and development capacity while training countless future scholars and innovators. This is why Korean campuses must be filled with world-class foreign professors.

The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, founded in 1991, used an extraordinary all-around package to recruit top talent from North America and Europe. It offered overwhelming salaries, an excellent research environment, on-campus housing and even international school admissions for professors' children. As a result, it rose to become one of Asia's top universities in just over a decade. Do we have that kind of vision and will to execute?

The reality in Korea is dismal. I still remember the day I decided to take a faculty position at Yonsei University. At the time, I had been participating in a new faculty hiring meeting at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. Hong Kong offered a newly hired assistant professor an annual salary of 200 million won, equivalent to $134,300 at today's exchange rate, along with a substantial housing allowance. By contrast, salaries at Korean universities were less than half that amount and locked into rigid seniority-based pay scales. This asymmetry captures one of the most painful reasons Korea loses out in the race for top talent.

The indicators are equally disappointing. Some 85 percent of international student...

This article is by Yoon Seung-jin and read by an artificial voice.

While many Korean universities are introducing tech- and semiconductor-focused majors in response to the rapid growth of related industries, others are taking a different approach by emphasizing culture, language and sports.

A new department centered on Hallyu (the Korean Wave) has been established as part of broader efforts to further globalize Korean culture, while a graduate school dedicated to Korean literature translation is set to open.

To help prospective students stay informed about these emerging niche programs, the Korea JoongAng Daily has compiled a list of academic programs that were recently introduced and are confirmed to open next year.

Graduate school run by the Literature Translation Institute of Korea

The Literature Translation Institute of Korea (LTI Korea), which has offered nondegree translation education programs since 2008, is set to open its inaugural graduate school dedicated to master's programs in literary translation.

Set to launch in September 2027, the graduate school aims to train translators specializing in Korean literature and cultural content across seven majors — English, Chinese, Japanese, French, German, Spanish and Russian — and plans to admit 60 students in its inaugural class, with half of the spots open to international students.

According to the institution, the new graduate school will distinguish itself from other interpretation and translation graduate schools focused on practical fields by concentrating on Korean literature and cultural content and translating from Korean into foreign languages.

Through the new master's program, students will first take theory-based courses, such as introductions to Korean literature, cultural content and literature understanding and Korean society. They will then move on to practice-oriented courses, including literary translation, arts and culture translation workshops and creative writing.

According to LTI Korea, one of the main goals of the new graduate school is to strengthen the role of overseas students in the literary translation field as Korean works gain global traction.

"For Korean literature to resonate more deeply with global readers, there must be foreign professionals who have mastered the Korean language," said Hwang Sok-yong, a novelist whose work "Mater 2-10" was short-listed for the 2024 International Booker Prize and who also serves on the establishment committee. "I hope the graduate school of literary translation will encourage more in-depth studies of the Korean language and Korean literature overseas."

The student selection process is scheduled to take place in the second half of 2027, according to the institute. The graduate school is expected to use the institute's building in Gangnam District, southern Seoul, as its campus.

Sookmyung Women's University's Hallyu International College

Sookmyung Women's University launched the Hallyu International College exclusively for international students in the first semester of this year.

The department comprises two divisions: the Division of Interdisciplinary Studies, which focuses on international business, and the Division of Hallyu Studies, which specializes in Korean culture.

According to the university, the Division of Hallyu Studies offers education focused on the Korean Wave, covering K-pop, K-beauty, the Korean culinary arts and other forms of cultural content.

Specifically, students will learn how to create mobile and AI-generated content, plan food products and develop Korean beauty styling skills. Students will also take courses on copyright law and content-production procedures while preparing professional portfolios under the guidance of professors and industry professionals in their final years.

The Division of Interdisciplinary Studies offers courses in digital marketing, consumer lifestyle analysis, marketing strategy, intellectual property and international finance.

Sookmyung Women's Universit...

This article is by Shin Ha-nee and read by an artificial voice.

Boy band Younite is off to a fresh start with a new label, a renewed vision and its latest EP, "Inyun Part. 1" — which the members describe as a turning point in their careers.

"This is an album that marks a new turning point for Younite," said leader Eunho during a press showcase for Younite's eighth EP, "Inyun Part. 1," held at NOL Theater Tongyang Life Insurance Hall in Mapo District, western Seoul, on Tuesday.

"It conveys the message that, when beings from different places and times briefly overlap, a clear connection is formed and becomes a bond," he continued. "It also reflects our hope to build a clear connection with many people."

The latest EP, "Inyun Part. 1," comes nine months after Younite's previous single, "Bomba" (2025), and a year after its seventh EP, "Youni-T" (2025). The album also marks the group's first new release since its move in January from Brand New Music to its newly established subsidiary Para Music, a label solely focused on K-pop. The parent label is known for its hip-hop-centered artist lineup.

"We tried to communicate a lot with the company, and the company also listened closely to our opinions," said Eunho, when asked what has changed the most since the transition. "The preparation was quite fun as it felt more like we were creating something of our own."

Younite debuted in 2022 under Brand New Music and consists of eight members: Eunho, Steve, Hyungseok, Woono, Dey, Kyungmun, Sion and Eunsang. Eunsang, however, has been on hiatus since May of last year due to health issues.

"Inyun Part. 1" features five songs: the lead track "Pose!," and B-sides "Parallel," "Savior," "Nothing" and "So Alive."

The lead single, "Pose!," is a medium-tempo pop track with a restrained instrumental arrangement, reminiscent of a song that might play in during chic fashion show. According to Para Music, the song captures the fleeting moment of striking a pose, where two different worlds collide in a single frame.

All seven members participated in writing lyrics for the album, while Steve and Eunho are also credited as songwriters for the B-side track, "Nothing."

Younite has been expanding its activities overseas, particularly in India, with several recent visits including its latest performance at the "All India K-pop Grand Championship" held in New Delhi in April. The group said it hopes to further broaden its global reach.

"We've been able to meet people in a lot of regions around the world thanks to Youniz," said Sion, referring to the official fandom of the group. "We wish to fly to wherever in the world if there are people who want to see us."

This article is by Nam Soo-hyoun and read by an artificial voice.

Park, a 65-year-old retiree from a conglomerate, now puts his hands on the steering wheel to make a living — as a taxi driver. He still has to care for his elderly mother and does not want to become a burden on his children.

"I want to earn as much as I possibly can while I am healthy," Park said on Thursday — a day before Korea's May 8 Parents' Day. "Tomorrow is Parents' Day, but I don't even know if I'll get to see my son because he's busy working too."

Park's story — retired but not really, taking care of his parents but his kids don't take care of him — is not unique in Korea.

Korean adults not only leave their workplaces later than their peers in other advanced nations but they also work well past the retirement age, even for low compensation, according to a 2025 Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) report on pensions.

Korea's "effective age of labor market exit" stood at 67.4 for men and 69.6 for women as of 2024 — 2.7 years and six years later, respectively, than the OECD average.

Korean women recorded the highest age of labor market exit among OECD member nations, while Korean men ranked sixth out of the 38 member states, behind only Chile, Iceland, Mexico, Israel and Colombia.

The average effective age of labor market exit is defined as the average age for workers aged 40 and over leaving the work force, according to the OECD. In practical terms, it means the age at which people actually stop working.

That reality is reflected in employment figures. Around 57 percent of Koreans aged 65 to 69 are employed, tying Japan for the highest rate in the OECD and more than double the organization's average of 26 percent.

In Korea, they are often referred to as the sandwiched generation, because they are expected to care for their parents while being unlikely to depend on their children in return. This forces them to stay in the labor market as long as they can.

But remaining in the work force doesn't always mean a stable income. Jobs available to older workers are often temporary, low-paying or physically demanding. Increasingly, many seniors are turning to debt to stay afloat.

Outstanding credit card loan balances among eight credit card companies showed that borrowers in their 50s and 60s accounted for more than 60 percent of the total, according to February data provided by the Financial Supervisory Service to Rep. Kim Sang-hoon of the conservative People Power Party.

Specifically, borrowers in their 50s accounted for 34.6 percent, while those 60 and older accounted for another 27 percent. About five years ago, in 2021, the 40-something-year-old group was the most significant demographic, taking up 33.7 percent of the total.

People in their 50s and 60s represented nearly 60 percent of all delinquent credit card loan balances, accounting for 32 percent and 27.1 percent, respectively.

"My salary is insufficient to cover housing costs, living expenses for my four-member family and nursing home fees for my parents," said a woman in her 60s who recently took out a card loan. "What worries me even more is what lies ahead as both my husband and I continue getting older," she said.

The average disposable income of older people relative to that of the total population is one of the lowest in Korea, at 68 percent, compared to an OECD average of 87 percent, the international organization said in the pensions report. This means the average older Korean relies on just two-thirds of the income available to the average person nationwide.

The relative poverty rate among Koreans age 66 and older stood at 40 percent, the highest in the OECD.

The sandwiched generation's hardship carries an extra sense of bitter irony because they fueled the nation's rapid economic rise through decades of sacrifice and hard work, and are now getting repaid with economic burdens.

But the values that shaped much of their lives — particularly the expectation of filial s...

This article is by Shin Ha-nee and read by an artificial voice.

For most K-pop acts — and even most U.S. pop stars — selling out a stadium tour, achieving a No. 1 placement on the Billboard charts and breaking global streaming records would individually be enough to define a career peak.

For BTS, however, those milestones are simply part of the past.

A little over a month has passed since the septet resumed full-group activities after a nearly four-year hiatus with its fifth full-length album, "Arirang," and launched what is set to be the biggest world tour in K-pop history.

Since its grand comeback at Gwanghwamun Square in March, BTS has sold 4.17 million copies of "Arirang" in its first week of release; become the first K-pop act to top the Billboard 200 albums chart for three consecutive weeks; and kept all 14 tracks from the album — including the lead single "Swim" — on Spotify's weekly top global songs chart for six straight weeks.

These numbers suggest that BTS's upward momentum will not only likely last but is formidable. But they also raise a complicated question for the group's self-proclaimed "2.0" era: What comes next?

As BTS enters the second phase of its career, its future no longer concerns whether the group can reclaim its place at the top of the global music market; instead, it revolves around what milestone, if any, still holds the power to mean something for an act that has already redrawn the boundaries of K-pop.

There are three possible answers to this dilemma: a Super Bowl halftime performance, a Coachella headline slot and a long-awaited Grammy win. Each represents a different form of significance, from mainstream U.S. visibility to live-music prestige before a broader festival audience and institutional validation from the Western music industry, respectively.

But another question remains: Does BTS still need validation from such benchmarks?

The Super Bowl

In an interview with Rolling Stone published on April 13, BTS carefully discussed the possibility of performing at the Super Bowl halftime show, arguably one of pop music's biggest stages, watched by not only American football fans but sports and music enthusiasts around the world.

"Maybe if time goes by, and the thoughts in the people change," leader RM cautiously said when asked about the possibility of performing at what he described as "the best [...] show stage in the whole world."

"All of the people in the world are watching 'Parasite' [2021], all these great things in Korean culture, so if there's a chance [to perform at the Super Bowl], we definitely want to, someday."

The question came after Puerto Rican singer and rapper Bad Bunny made history with a halftime show performed entirely in Spanish, prompting renewed discussion over whether BTS, as a mainly Korean-language act, could one day perform at what is often considered the pinnacle of U.S. pop culture.

"Of course I want to [perform at the Super Bowl], but it's not up to us," Jungkook said.

The idea of BTS headlining the halftime show may not be entirely detached from reality, especially since Jungkook was invited by Usher to join him onstage during the singer's 2024 Super Bowl halftime performance, though the BTS member had to decline as he was fulfilling his mandatory military service.

Additionally, important distinctions remain between the Puerto Rican and Korean stars. While international performers have headlined or co-headlined the show before, including British band Coldplay and Colombian singer Shakira, the Super Bowl remains closely tied to the U.S. mainstream.

As a result, it makes sense that Bad Bunny — a U.S. citizen who has become deeply embedded in the U.S. mainstream for not only his music but also his political and social activism — was invited to perform, despite doing so exclusively in Spanish.

BTS, by contrast, remains a Korean act whose dominance has largely been built through a more global, fandom-driven structure than year-round exposure within the U.S. media e...

Lee Jeong-dong

The author is a professor of the Technology Management, Economics and Policy Program at Seoul National University's College of Engineering.

When I sit down with young people, I often hear the same lament: "Where are new workers supposed to gain experience and become experienced workers?" It is as if they are eliminated before they even stand at the starting line. A survey showing that eight out of 10 job seekers cited "a lack of work experience and career development opportunities" as their greatest difficulty reflects this reality exactly. A vicious cycle is trapping an entire generation: They cannot find work because they lack experience, and they cannot gain experience because they cannot find work.

Professional occupations are no different. Even after passing the certified public accountant exam, the number of unassigned accountants who have been unable to find institutions for their required training has risen to around 600, and in some years, 70 percent of successful candidates remained unemployed. The scene of people who passed the exam staging a protest in front of the government complex plainly shows how inaccessible the first career step has become. The youth unemployment rate is already nearly twice the level of the overall unemployment rate.

A recent analysis by the Bank of Korea confirms this change statistically. Over the three years since the second half of 2022, 211,000 youth jobs disappeared, and 98.6 percent of them vanished from industries highly exposed to AI. During the same period, jobs for people in their 50s increased by 209,000, and 146,000 of those were newly created in industries highly exposed to AI. This means AI is operating in a way that replaces coding, data research and basic analysis that young workers used to handle, while amplifying the tacit knowledge and management work of experienced workers. The central bank calls this "seniority-biased technological change," but put simply, it means that "AI pushes away young hands and gives wings to older shoulders." The calculation for companies becomes simple. Rather than spending money to train inexperienced new workers, it is far more economical to give an AI tool to the experienced workers they already have.

But the danger of this calculation belongs not only to society, but also to companies themselves. Becoming better at the work they already do through AI does not guarantee a company's future competitiveness. Companies can survive only by constantly challenging themselves in new fields, and new workers are the seeds that form the most basic foundation of that challenge. Not hiring new workers is ultimately a declaration that a company will protect its current position by working harder in the current way. It is also the act of drying up the soil of long-term competitiveness in exchange for short-term efficiency. Today's efficiency eats away at tomorrow's foundation.

The essence of this crisis is speed. The population declines slowly. It takes a generation to recognize the crisis, and another to reverse the trend. By contrast, the collapse of entry-level hiring proceeds quickly and quietly. If companies turn to "experienced workers only" for just one or two hiring seasons, that year's graduates are left with a gap that follows them for life. A gap before the first job is not simply a loss of time. It is a scar that bends the trajectory of lifetime wages and careers. If population decline is a "crisis of total volume," the disappearance of new workers is a "crisis of the entrance." If a society without newborns threatens the existence of a country in the medium to long term, a society without entry-level workers weakens companies, the economy and the community at the same time in the short to medium term. Just as a society that does not have children loses its future, a society that does not hire new workers loses its present. Only the speed is different. Both are issues that change the fate of a nation.

There is a strong se...

The author is a cultural columnist

"Thud. I heard the sound of something snapping inside my chest. It was my lingering attachment, the part of me that had still wanted to remain connected to them despite everything. There are things one must protect as a person, because one is human. My mother was no longer human to me."

— Cho Seung-ree, "The Confession of Yonggungjang"(2026)

"Will God forgive a child who wishes for a parent to die?" This is the first sentence of the novel. It brought to mind the words of director Takeshi Kitano, who once said, "Family is something you would throw away if no one were watching."

A mysterious fire breaks out at Yonggungjang, an old motel, killing all the guests staying there. The media mourn the victims of the disaster, but in truth, the victims were perpetrators of terrible violence. "A person died. And yet everyone became happy." The idea of a family whose members cherish and love one another may be nothing more than an illusion. There is also a reality in which people have no choice but to become evil in order to survive. Of the raw power of this novel, which captures the reality of life, in which good and evil are tangled together and people struggle desperately, novelist Jang Kang-myoung said it felt as if "a bulldozer was storming through my head."

The author, who turns 40 this year, began gradually losing her sight at the age of 15. In 2003, she learned to write through remote classes offered by a welfare center. Now she works three days a week at her main job as a massage therapist and writes on the remaining days.

"I could see the sun setting through the west-facing window. A red band of sunset slipped between the buildings and was gradually swallowed by darkness. I like this time. More precisely, I liked the moment when darkness devours light. That destructive landscape briefly soothes the boredom inside me. As darkness fell, I relaxed the facial muscles I had forced upward. Darkness hides the things one does not want discovered."

The author's note serves as a kind of preface. "This story was conceived at a funeral hall that was strangely peaceful, where sighs of relief, rather than tears, had settled. Inside the human heart lives a single point of violent darkness. That darkness, especially toward those who are close and vulnerable, ends up tightening a noose around them in the name of 'obligation.' An obligation that is forced one-sidedly is not a sublime value but unmistakable violence. I dedicate this novel to those who, bearing the yoke of blood ties, are enduring their own hell."

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.

Suh Kyoung-ho

The author is an editorial writer of the JoongAng Ilbo.

Kim Yong-beom, the presidential chief of staff for policy, posted a four-part series titled "The Structure of Finance" on social media earlier this month. He pointed out that the current credit rating system, which looks only to the past, has problems; that banks are excluding borrowers with medium and low credit scores because of a badly designed structure; and that financial institutions for ordinary people enjoy tax-exemption benefits while failing to fulfill their proper role of helping ordinary people. He said that when President Lee Jae Myung first asked, "Why must the most desperate people pay the highest interest rates?" he let out a hollow laugh and thought it was a question from someone who did not understand the basics of credit. But he said that led him to ask, "Whom, exactly, is finance protecting?" and that he could no longer laugh after the president's words — "Why is Korean finance so cruel?" — pierced his heart like an awl. He also used the expression that banks are "quasi-public institutions." His point was that banks are not fully private companies because they operate on state licenses, are backed by the public safety net of depositor protection and receive the protection of bailouts in times of crisis. A few days later, at a Cabinet meeting, President Lee gave Kim his support, saying, "Do as you wish."

Times have changed a great deal. After the 1997 Asian financial crisis, as an era arrived in which banks, too, could fail, banks' profitability became important. In official documents in 2001, the government also began using the term "financial companies" instead of "financial institutions." The wording carried the meaning that banks, too, are companies that clearly pursue commercial interests. But since then, whenever banks have made large profits, they have been engulfed in controversy. After 1997, restructuring reduced the number of banks, and thanks to entry restrictions under a strict "license business," banks were guaranteed "oligopolistic operations" by the state. In this respect, the expression that banks are "quasi-public institutions" contains, to some extent, an uncomfortable truth. Banks' practice of lending mainly against real estate collateral is criticized as "pawnshop-style business," but it is not easy to change. That is because the practice itself is a product of regulation. If prudential regulations are mishandled and banks collapse, taxpayer money will ultimately be used. Korea should consider a system like that of the United States, where mortgage lending is handled not by banks but by institutions such as Fannie Mae. This is not a problem that can be solved simply by pressuring banks.

Conservative administrations have also emphasized the public nature of banks. Former President Yoon Suk Yeol pressured banks in 2023 for "win-win finance," saying, "Banks are public goods." The Lee Jae Myung administration's view of banks as quasi-public institutions has deeper roots. It is connected to the dream of a basic society that the president has nurtured since his time as mayor of Seongnam. In April 2023, when he was leader of the Democratic Party (DP), Lee attended a forum on basic finance hosted by the party's Basic Society Committee and said: "We must now move toward a basic society that guarantees a basic life in every area of life, not welfare that merely guarantees a minimum life for the people." He saw basic finance as one pillar of such a basic society.

Kim said his argument was not a sympathetic appeal simply to lower interest rates, nor an irresponsible claim that risks should be ignored, nor an attempt to twist banks' arms. But President Lee's thinking from three years ago appears somewhat different. He said differences in interest rates according to ability are natural from the standpoint of a market economy, but "that is the market's position," and "finance is not something created in the market, but a product...

Song Ho-keun

The author is a columnist of the JoongAng Ilbo, a chair professor and director of Doheon Academy, Hallym University.

SK hynix has hit the jackpot. It is a heavenly gift that neither Hynix employees nor semiconductor experts had expected. For 10 years after the acquisition, the company wandered through a slump, except for one brief upturn. It was in 2019 that the CEO resolved to turn the company into one with a market capitalization of 100 trillion won ($67.9 billion), and seven years later it has become 10 times that, a 1 quadrillion won company. At the time, compensation and encouragement were needed for 10 years of struggle. Morale rose with a modest performance bonus and stock awards. In 2024, when revenue surged, a 10 percent bonus based on 10 trillion won in operating profit was adopted. No one expected operating profit in the tens of trillions of won. But now, the projected operating profit for 2026 is 150 trillion won. Without readjustment, the bonus pool would be 15 trillion won, and with 35,000 employees, that would amount to 430 million won per person, excluding salary.

Four hundred thirty million won per person. Envy lasts only a moment before resentment sets in. Sk hynix has entered the most prestigious tier of the job market. Samsung, the No. 1 company, is unlikely to stand still. For Samsung Electronics' 76,000 union members to receive bonuses on the level of SK hynix, the amount would exceed 40 trillion won, or 15 percent of expected operating profit. The union has declared a strike and begun internal discipline, and it remains to be seen what agreement will emerge from the government-mediated "post-adjustment" process by today.

A jackpot and performance bonuses are exhilarating things. But is 15 percent of operating profit right? To answer that, one must look at the arduous persistence behind HBM, or high bandwidth memory, the protagonist of this windfall. It was only at the end of 2023 that the existence of HBM was placed on the agenda of SK hynix's board. Many engineers who had been in charge of HBM innovation repeatedly suffered failure and frustration, and some left the company, but SK hynix did not abandon the task. Samsung, by contrast, scrapped the HBM process, which had been regarded as nothing more than a 1 percent derivative product.

HBM is the crown jewel of technological innovation. Twelve 8-gigabit dynamic random access memory (DRAM) chips, barely visible under a microscope, are stacked to create an integrated column, and 2,048 of those semiconductor columns are erected to make HBM. A single unit is one centimeter (0.39 inches) on each side and 120 square millimeters (0.19 square inches) in size. This made the Nvidia project possible and activated the high-capacity data association functions of AI. Samsung restarted the process it had abandoned and succeeded in manufacturing HBM4E. The unit price is somewhat high. The two companies' share of the HBM market is around 70 percent, and Korea has become the kingdom of HBM manufacturing.

How was this possible? Why not Japan? Korea is the royal horse ranch supplying the finest warhorses of the AI age. The owner of that horse ranch is the conglomerate, which has had to go in and out of prison whenever governments changed. By contrast, at the center of Japan's zaibatsu stands the bank. Astronomical amounts of money can be invested only after receiving approval from bank managers. In Korea, however, the determination and unlimited responsibility of conglomerate families are the final authority for raising and deploying capital. Semiconductors are a massive-scale equipment industry and, at the same time, an advanced human-capital industry. Without Korea's conglomerate structure, things like the Yongin and Pyeongtaek clusters could not even be dreamed of. At the Yongin cluster, which spans nearly 1 million pyeong (35,583,175 square feet), four fabs are under construction. One fab costs 120 trillion won, and about 600 trillion won must be pour...