Eugene Lee is a lecturing professor at the Graduate School of Governance at Sungkyunkwan University in Seoul.
Whose idea is it anyway? Intellectual plunder, colonial legacy and Korea’s future
Eugene Lee
By Eugene Lee
In my pursuit to help foster regional growth and development in South Korea, I’ve repeatedly encountered cases of systemic appropriation of ideas. Examples spread across different universities present a stark and troubling pattern: Independent ideas are routinely stolen and exploited without recognition or ethical consideration.
At one university, my carefully prepared proposal aimed at expanding regional development was initially rejected in favor of using costly consultancy services. When these expensive solutions proved unsuccessful, the university returned quietly to my original ideas and used them entirely without any acknowledgment. This betrayal not only undermined my trust but raised serious concerns about the institution’s ethical standards.
A similar pattern played out with a large rural university. At first, they seemed excited about working together on an international project to attract more students from abroad. But suddenly, they canceled our partnership without much warning. Then, they tweaked our proposal a little and went ahead with a similar project, but focused on different countries. This move not only ignored the effort I had put into the idea, but also showed to what lengths the university was ready to go for their own benefit.
Another example involves a nearby national professional university. I came up with a plan aimed specifically at increasing international student enrollment, which was meant to be a purely intellectual contribution — no funding needed, just support for regional growth. They initially welcomed this fresh approach, but later officially rejected it, claiming it lacked monetary incentives. In other words, someone wouldn’t get some kickbacks.
Honestly, experiences like these are pretty disheartening, but if I go beyond my personal feelings, they reveal a bigger issue — "epistemic capture." Epistemic capture means those in power decide what information people get to see and believe. Instead of knowledge being open and balanced, it is shaped to protect the interests of governments, companies and other powerful groups. This creates a situation where the public is only told part of the story, trust in information weakens and it becomes harder for ordinary people to know what is really true.
These practices do more than maintain control; they shape norms, habits and even organizational culture. To understand why epistemic capture persists, it’s important to look at Korea’s history and how deeply it’s rooted in institutional, educational and economic systems. The modern structures we see today come mainly from the Japanese colonial period, when the administration established a strict, hierarchical bureaucracy that emphasized centralized power — something that has been perpetuated and evolved over the decades.
After the U.S. occupation and Cold War politics, these authority-driven systems became even more ingrained, encouraging patron-client relationships that still influence society. The education system also reflects this hierarchy — inspired by the Japanese colonial model focused on conformity, rank and institutional power — which often kills creativity, ethics and true intellectual independence.
Korea’s colonial history still shapes a lot of how the country does business today. The economy is tilted toward big outside investors and powerful domestic conglomerates. These groups tend to focus on control and making money, which often means they overlook the small, innovative ideas from local folks that could really help foster regional growth and improve daily life. The system seems to see its purpose as just running smoothly and efficiently, even if it leaves everyone else behind. In this system, people are treated like resources. Those who don’t quite fit in are basically out of luck. Anyone who speaks up or challenges the norm gets slapped with labels like "socialist" or "communist." And sometimes, rebels risk even their own safety.
South Korea’s culture, along with its economy, has become something that’s packaged and sold around the world. When it comes to international relations, the country often bends to U.S. foreign policy interests and is deeply tied to Japanese supply chains driven by U.S. capital. It’s kind of like a big, complicated reality show — imagine something like "Squid Game," but on a global scale.
Young people really dislike this system. From their first days at school, they’re pushed to get into top domestic universities by any means possible, and they’re tired of going to hagwons (private classes) just to make that happen. After graduation, it’s all about landing with a big company, but that’s a high-stakes game with little room for error. They hate living lives of constant sacrifice. Once they’re in the workplace, they’re faced with this corporate culture that’s supposed to feel “like a family,” but actually kills independence and creativity. The whole setup isn’t just expensive, it feels dehumanizing.
Efforts to increase the birthrate by bringing in young workers from other countries haven’t worked either. Most jobs in Seoul for foreigners are in advertising or content creation, and if they’re from less-developed countries, they’re stuck doing 3D work — dirty, dangerous and difficult — or babysitting. Rural areas, on the other hand, need more help, but the government’s solution consists of mostly raids on undocumented workers rather than fixing immigration laws.
And then there’s artificial intelligence. You might think it could help things along, but honestly, that’s probably not the case. In the current system, technology will be used not to free people but to demand more from them, squeezing workers even harder instead of giving them space to create or breathe.
So, what are the options? Either we accept this as normal, or we try to build something better. I believe the second path is still possible. One way forward is to set up an independent platform for thinkers and innovators — a space where ideas are protected, credited and used to serve the public good. Such a platform would make sure contributors are recognized fairly and would encourage ethics and creativity rather than suppress them. South Korea is at a crossroads: Keep clinging to systems that are outdated and corrupt, or accept a new way where honesty and public well-being are at the core of decision-making.
This is not just a suggestion — it’s a call to action. I would like to invite institutions, scholars, politicians and citizens to come together and build a culture that values ideas, respects creators and values transparency. Korea has everything it needs to lead in ethical governance and innovation, but only if it’s willing to confront and fix the problems buried deep within its system. Let us work toward a Korea that is fairer and better for everyone.
Eugene Lee (mreulee@gmail.com) is a lecturing professor at the Graduate School of Governance at Sungkyunkwan University in Seoul. Specializing in international relations and governance, his research and teaching focus is on national and regional security, international development, government policies and Northeast and Central Asia. The views expressed in this article are his own.