By Peter S. Kim
Recently, a wave of entertainment content from South Korea has swept the world, led by the K-pop group BTS and the Oscar Best Picture award winner, "Parasite." For the past couple of weeks, all the attention has been on "Squid Game," the Netflix series about a dystopian game in which working-class people are pitted against each other over a series of deadly challenges. The ultimate winner can leave the game with millions of dollars after the rest of the field of players is killed off in various gruesome ways.
Beneath the chilling storyline lies a timely and poignant depiction of the social, cultural and economic issues South Korea faces. Some phenomena depicted in the series, like wealth inequality, are shared with other nations, but there are other issues unique to Korea, revealed by the powerful portrayal of the lead players who are all fighting to stay alive.
While the movie "Parasite" chronicled the polarization of the wealth gap between Korea's upper and working classes with a wide lens, "Squid Game" examines it at the individual level and highlights the personal struggles members of the working class face as they seek a way out of poverty.
The show manages to overcome the dubious rationality of players volunteering to participate in a game where all but one competitor has to die. The producers achieve the viewers' acceptance of the plot through the sheer helplessness of the players' real-life problems. Following the key characters reveals the deeper social and economic challenges facing Korea for the next decade.
The show introduces a mysterious senior citizen, Oh Il-nam, whom most players avoid with the exception of the main character, Seong Gi-hun. Korean society is aging at the fastest rate globally, with 40 percent of the population expected to be 65 years or older by 2050. At the current rate, South Korea's demographic cliff is about to be worse than Japan's from three decades ago.
South Korea's greatest problem lies in waiting as its pension system is inadequate to handle the rapidly aging population due to plummeting birth rates. Moreover, the problem is even more daunting as life expectancy is improving rapidly which adds to the financial burden of caring for its elderly.
For Korea's devoted neo-Confucian society, caring for the aging population is a dilemma that will pose a financial burden Korea is not prepared for. Fortunately for Oh, the unassuming senior (spoiler alert!) has a surprising backup plan that is revealed toward the end of the show.
Another player is Cho Sang-woo, an investment professional at a local securities company who incurred huge trading losses resulting in millions of dollars in debt. The conflicted character graduated from Seoul National University, the top university in South Korea, and was a golden child from a humble neighborhood.
His story reflects fading job security for Koreans and the uncertain future even for scholarly elites, who were once guaranteed a bright and prosperous future. Also, working in Korea's high-flying finance industry, Cho represents the generation of finance professionals who are blur the line between investing and gambling.
With the growing gambling culture armed with highly efficient but predatory electronic trading platforms, Cho's predicament is not unique to Koreans or the financial industry. Finally, the outbreak of COVID-19 and the abundant liquidity unleashed by the central banks have made financial investments into an irresistible addiction.
Abdul Ali is the only non-Korean character, portraying the tragic story of a foreign national working in a Korean factory. After being cheated out of wages and abused by a local company, Ali decides to risk his life for the slimmest chance at winning the prize money. With its declining population and rising wages, foreign workers are increasingly needed to take up low-end jobs in Korea.
However, they are hardly welcomed by most members of Korean society, who are unfamiliar with living together with people of foreign nationality and perceive them as threats to Korea's working class. With inadequate legal support, foreign workers crave the same rights enjoyed by Korean workers.
Related to this, another main character from the game is Kang Sae-byeok who is a defector from North Korea who experiences similar difficulties. One of the highest priorities should be for South Korea to provide better working conditions and labor rights for "low-end" workers of foreign nationality as Korea's manufacturing competitiveness has been declining for over a decade due to younger Koreans being unwilling to work in these low paying sunset industries.
Finally, the main character, Seong Gi-hun, is a former worker for a Korean auto company that went bankrupt. Since being laid off, Seong has struggled with joblessness, gambling and eventually loan sharks. Living with his aging mother, Seong is one of many Koreans struggling with household debt, which has been rising since the global financial crisis of 2008. Household debt in Korea is directly linked to the domestic property market, as it is mostly comprised of mortgages and loans for the housing rental system called jeonse.
Jeonse, also known as the "key money" system, is a uniquely South Korean system in which tenants provide a large deposit to landlords in lieu of monthly rent. It is estimated that 40 percent of Korea's population lives via either jeonse or monthly rent. While those who borrow to purchase a home can benefit from rising home prices and watching their wealth grow, the tenants with jeonse loans have to pay back the same amount of principal when they have to leave their current rental housing, which perpetuates a rut of endless tenancy without ever being able to own a home.
Rising home prices supported by record-low interest rates and government spending are a problem President Moon has vowed to tackle over the past four years. However, government promises of affordable housing have left many frustrated home seekers giving up on any hopes of owning a home. The global viral hit song, "Gangnam Style," is based in the most affluent part of Korea, which has benefited the most from rising property prices. The song may be cute and catchy for most, but it is a source of major social discontent for Korea's working class.
The brighter message from "Squid Game" is Korea's growth in cultural exports, such as K-pop, movies and TV dramas. In February, Netflix announced plans to invest $500 million this year on drama series and films produced in South Korea. This image is a far cry from Korea's longtime reputation as a destination for factories churning out electronics, cars and industrial machinery.
The Korean entertainment industry is a powerful marketing machine showcasing Korea as a vibrant cultural and tourist destination. Post-COVID-19, Korean tourism will be an emerging growth industry supported by global fans with a newly acquired fascination for all things Korean.
Peter S. Kim (peter.kim@kbfg.com) is a managing director at KB Financial Group.
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Beneath the chilling storyline lies a timely and poignant depiction of the social, cultural and economic issues South Korea faces. Some phenomena depicted in the series, like wealth inequality, are shared with other nations, but there are other issues unique to Korea, revealed by the powerful portrayal of the lead players who are all fighting to stay alive.
While the movie "Parasite" chronicled the polarization of the wealth gap between Korea's upper and working classes with a wide lens, "Squid Game" examines it at the individual level and highlights the personal struggles members of the working class face as they seek a way out of poverty.
The show manages to overcome the dubious rationality of players volunteering to participate in a game where all but one competitor has to die. The producers achieve the viewers' acceptance of the plot through the sheer helplessness of the players' real-life problems. Following the key characters reveals the deeper social and economic challenges facing Korea for the next decade.
The show introduces a mysterious senior citizen, Oh Il-nam, whom most players avoid with the exception of the main character, Seong Gi-hun. Korean society is aging at the fastest rate globally, with 40 percent of the population expected to be 65 years or older by 2050. At the current rate, South Korea's demographic cliff is about to be worse than Japan's from three decades ago.
South Korea's greatest problem lies in waiting as its pension system is inadequate to handle the rapidly aging population due to plummeting birth rates. Moreover, the problem is even more daunting as life expectancy is improving rapidly which adds to the financial burden of caring for its elderly.
For Korea's devoted neo-Confucian society, caring for the aging population is a dilemma that will pose a financial burden Korea is not prepared for. Fortunately for Oh, the unassuming senior (spoiler alert!) has a surprising backup plan that is revealed toward the end of the show.
Another player is Cho Sang-woo, an investment professional at a local securities company who incurred huge trading losses resulting in millions of dollars in debt. The conflicted character graduated from Seoul National University, the top university in South Korea, and was a golden child from a humble neighborhood.
His story reflects fading job security for Koreans and the uncertain future even for scholarly elites, who were once guaranteed a bright and prosperous future. Also, working in Korea's high-flying finance industry, Cho represents the generation of finance professionals who are blur the line between investing and gambling.
With the growing gambling culture armed with highly efficient but predatory electronic trading platforms, Cho's predicament is not unique to Koreans or the financial industry. Finally, the outbreak of COVID-19 and the abundant liquidity unleashed by the central banks have made financial investments into an irresistible addiction.
Abdul Ali is the only non-Korean character, portraying the tragic story of a foreign national working in a Korean factory. After being cheated out of wages and abused by a local company, Ali decides to risk his life for the slimmest chance at winning the prize money. With its declining population and rising wages, foreign workers are increasingly needed to take up low-end jobs in Korea.
However, they are hardly welcomed by most members of Korean society, who are unfamiliar with living together with people of foreign nationality and perceive them as threats to Korea's working class. With inadequate legal support, foreign workers crave the same rights enjoyed by Korean workers.
Related to this, another main character from the game is Kang Sae-byeok who is a defector from North Korea who experiences similar difficulties. One of the highest priorities should be for South Korea to provide better working conditions and labor rights for "low-end" workers of foreign nationality as Korea's manufacturing competitiveness has been declining for over a decade due to younger Koreans being unwilling to work in these low paying sunset industries.
Finally, the main character, Seong Gi-hun, is a former worker for a Korean auto company that went bankrupt. Since being laid off, Seong has struggled with joblessness, gambling and eventually loan sharks. Living with his aging mother, Seong is one of many Koreans struggling with household debt, which has been rising since the global financial crisis of 2008. Household debt in Korea is directly linked to the domestic property market, as it is mostly comprised of mortgages and loans for the housing rental system called jeonse.
Jeonse, also known as the "key money" system, is a uniquely South Korean system in which tenants provide a large deposit to landlords in lieu of monthly rent. It is estimated that 40 percent of Korea's population lives via either jeonse or monthly rent. While those who borrow to purchase a home can benefit from rising home prices and watching their wealth grow, the tenants with jeonse loans have to pay back the same amount of principal when they have to leave their current rental housing, which perpetuates a rut of endless tenancy without ever being able to own a home.
Rising home prices supported by record-low interest rates and government spending are a problem President Moon has vowed to tackle over the past four years. However, government promises of affordable housing have left many frustrated home seekers giving up on any hopes of owning a home. The global viral hit song, "Gangnam Style," is based in the most affluent part of Korea, which has benefited the most from rising property prices. The song may be cute and catchy for most, but it is a source of major social discontent for Korea's working class.
The brighter message from "Squid Game" is Korea's growth in cultural exports, such as K-pop, movies and TV dramas. In February, Netflix announced plans to invest $500 million this year on drama series and films produced in South Korea. This image is a far cry from Korea's longtime reputation as a destination for factories churning out electronics, cars and industrial machinery.
The Korean entertainment industry is a powerful marketing machine showcasing Korea as a vibrant cultural and tourist destination. Post-COVID-19, Korean tourism will be an emerging growth industry supported by global fans with a newly acquired fascination for all things Korean.
Peter S. Kim (peter.kim@kbfg.com) is a managing director at KB Financial Group.
