Samuel Len is the head of the AI Contents Team 2 at The Korea Times. He was previously the head of the Politics & City Desk at The Korea Times, as well as Seoul correspondent for Reuters news and other international news media.
When modernization clashes with heritage
Samuel Len, Politics & City Desk Editor at The Korea Times
By Samuel Len
The latest political tempest in Seoul has nothing to do with the economy or geopolitics. It centers instead on the city’s changing skyline.
In a decision with implications far beyond one construction site, Korea’s Supreme Court has effectively allowed high-rise construction across from Jongmyo Shrine, a UNESCO World Heritage site. The ruling has ignited a clash involving lawmakers, heritage officials, urban planners and a divided public.
Jongmyo is not simply an architectural relic.
Built in the 14th century as the royal ancestral shrine of the 1392-1910 Joseon Dynasty, it embodies a Confucian worldview in which authority, ritual and memory were meant to endure for generations. Its most important function today is not visible from afar: the Jongmyo Jerye, the annual ancestral rites, is protected on UNESCO’s list of Intangible Cultural Heritage. This intertwining of space and ritual makes Jongmyo a rare example of a site where physical form and living tradition are inseparable.
The current dispute centers on whether a proposed 141.9-meter tower in the Sewoon district roughly 180 meters from the shrine, would undermine that integrity. Until recently, Seoul’s urban design rules required review of any construction that might affect the broader environment of key heritage sites, even beyond a 100-meter buffer zone. The city quietly removed that language last year, opening the way for taller structures. Heritage officials argue that the change sidestepped a longstanding protective safeguard. The Seoul city government says it simply modernized outdated regulations.
Critics of the redevelopment — among them Prime Minister Kim Min-seok and the Korea Heritage Service (KHS) — warn that the taller buildings could compromise Jongmyo’s “outstanding universal value,” the metric UNESCO uses to evaluate whether a site merits its global designation. Their concerns are not solely aesthetic. They argue that the shrine’s ritual significance depends on an atmosphere of contemplative space, which, they say, would be disrupted by the looming high-rises.
Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon, however, frames the issue differently. Sewoon, a once-vibrant electronics and manufacturing district, has struggled for decades. Repeated redevelopment attempts have stalled, leaving a patchwork of disused lots and aging structures. In the mayor’s view, revitalizing the district is essential to keeping the city economically and socially dynamic. He and his advisers contend that the proposed development could harmonize with Jongmyo if designed with sensitivity and they argue that the shrine’s primary value lies in its rituals rather than its visual panorama.
For landowners in Sewoon, the debate has immediate stakes. Some have threatened legal action, saying another delay after years and years of planning would deepen financial losses and erode confidence in the city’s development process. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism, supported by the KHS, is preparing to consult UNESCO, raising the possibility that the shrine’s status could come under review if Seoul moves ahead without further assessment.
This conflict is not unique to Korea.
Cities around the world grapple with how to protect cultural landscapes amid pressure for growth. The Dresden Elbe Valley in Germany famously lost its World Heritage status in 2009 after local authorities approved a bridge that UNESCO said irrevocably altered the landscape. In Morocco, the medieval district of Fes el-Bali struggled under unregulated urban expansion until a specialized preservation agency was established to coordinate restoration and development. Venice, facing overtourism and environmental degradation, has repeatedly warned that its own status is at risk unless the city adopts more assertive policies.
These cases reveal a pattern: heritage preservation succeeds when governments, urban developers and international bodies negotiate early, transparently and with shared data. It fails when decisions are made hastily or in isolation. They also show that safeguarding the past need not be incompatible with building for the future. The question is how each side defines the limits of compromise.
The deeper issue in Seoul is not whether high-rise towers should rise, but who gets to decide the meaning and boundaries of national heritage. Is it a matter of expert evaluation? Public sentiment? Legal precedent? Economic necessity? Or some combination of all four?
The mayor has proposed a public debate, and that is a start. But public forums alone cannot substitute for a rigorous heritage-impact assessment or for sustained engagement with the international standards that Korea has voluntarily adopted. Nor should heritage officials dismiss the economic realities facing a city that must house, employ and transport millions.
Ultimately, the Jongmyo dispute forces Seoul to confront a question facing many global cities: Can development proceed without hollowing out the spaces that anchor a society’s sense of origin?
Jongmyo’s rituals will continue regardless of what rises nearby. But the choices made now will signal how Korea balances memory with ambition — and whether its future skyline reflects not just growth, but foresight.
The author is editor of politics and city desk at The Korea Times.