We often hear that the problems we face are global—that inflation, polarization, and generational conflict are happening everywhere. And sure, that’s true to an extent. But if you live in South Korea long enough, you start to realize that our version of these problems has a unique, distinctly Korean flavor.
It is a flavor of deep-seated irrationality.
It is the feeling that the country is no longer moving forward through innovation, but rather stagnating because everyone—from the top conglomerates to the local unions—is busy building fortresses to protect what they have. We are a nation locked in a stalemate of vested interests.
The "Korea Discount" and the Chaebol Monarchy
The most glaring example starts at the top. The South Korean stock market has long suffered from the so-called "Korea Discount." Why? Because our companies don't operate like normal market entities.
In most advanced economies, a CEO works for the shareholders. In Korea, the company exists primarily to serve the Controlling Family (The Chaebol owners).
We still operate under a system of hereditary succession that feels more like a medieval monarchy than modern capitalism. To protect their management rights and pass the throne to their children without paying massive taxes, these owners often sacrifice the company’s actual value.
The Tricks: They use treasury stocks like magic wands or execute "split-offs" (mul-jeok bun-hal) to manipulate stock prices, leaving minority shareholders holding the bag.
The Band-Aid: Recently, there has been a push to amend the Commercial Act to legally force directors to protect shareholder interests. While this is good news, it’s also pathetic. The fact that we need a law to tell CEOs not to rob their investors is proof that the market has no self-purification ability. It is a sign of a fundamentally unhealthy market.
The Labor Market Deadlock: A Game of Chicken
If the boardrooms are broken, the office floors aren't doing much better. The Korean labor market is rigid, frozen by a system that makes it nearly impossible to fire anyone.
This has created a zombie workforce in some sectors—employees protected by unions and seniority-based pay (Ho-bong-je) who have lost their motivation to compete or be productive.
But here is the irony: We cannot simply copy the American model of "at-will employment." Why? Because there is zero trust. If the government allowed easier layoffs, Korean companies—historically known for treating employees as expendable parts—would almost certainly abuse it to cut costs rather than to improve efficiency.
The Result? A frozen standoff. Companies can’t fire the old, expensive, unproductive workers. So, they simply stop hiring new ones. The youth pay the price for the protections of the older generation.
Welcome to "Galapagos Korea"
We love to talk about globalization, but in the digital and service sectors, Korea is becoming an isolated island—a "Galapagos."
We protect our domestic companies with fierce regulations. Foreign competitors find it impossible to navigate the red tape.
Twitch packed up and left.
Uber was crushed.
Apple and Google face constant hurdles that domestic players don't.
While every country needs to protect its industries, we have crossed the line. Protectionism should be a shield to help companies grow strong enough to fight; instead, we have built a greenhouse. Inside, our telecom giants and platform companies have become lazy and uncompetitive because they have no real threats. Ultimately, the Korean consumer suffers, paying higher prices for worse services.
The Wars of the Guilds: Doctors and Taxi Drivers
This protectionism isn't just for corporations. It’s for anyone with a license.
Look at the medical sector. We have a desperate shortage of doctors in essential fields (pediatrics, emergency care, surgery). The government tries to increase the medical school quota to fix this. The result? Strikes. The doctors paralyzed the hospitals to protect their scarcity value. It is collective selfishness disguised as concern for "medical quality."
Look at mobility. While the world moved on to Uber, Grab, and autonomous driving research, Korea was held hostage by the Taxi Union.
Ride-sharing services were outlawed.
Innovative startups were regulated out of existence.
We are blocking the future to protect the present. We are so busy saving the jobs of today that we are ensuring there will be no industry leadership tomorrow.
The Exhaustion of the "Good Fight"
Intellectually, I know that vested interests fighting to keep their slice of the pie is "rational" human behavior. Everyone wants to be safe. Everyone wants to protect their assets.
But the collective cost of this selfishness is staggering. It is a debt we are piling up—a social, economic, and structural debt—that we are tossing onto the backs of the next generation.
As I get older, I find myself changing too. I used to be angry. Now, as I accumulate my own small assets and things to protect, I feel that instinct to be selfish creeping in. I understand why they do it.
And that realization is exhausting.
Lately, I’ve been having a dark thought. Trying to untangle this mess—persuading people to compromise, taking small losses for the greater good, inching forward through dialogue—feels impossible. It is too slow. The resistance is too thick.
Sometimes, I wonder: Would it be better to just let it rot? Is it better to let the bubble burst, let the system collapse, and let the crisis force the reset that we are too cowardly to enact ourselves?
I don't know the answer. But looking at this gridlocked nation, where everyone is fighting to keep the gates closed, I feel a profound sense of fatigue. We are winning our little battles for self-interest, but we are surely losing the war.
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