Dr. Scott Shepherd is a British-American academic. He received his Ph.D. from the University of London on the text and performance of Hamlet, and has taught in universities in the U.K. and Korea.
How much does K-pop cost?
NewJeans / Courtesy of Ador
By Scott Shepherd
The upcoming concerts of BTS in front of Gyeongbok Palace and Blackpink at the National Museum of Korea are milestones for basically the world’s most successful national branding strategy. The culmination of K-pop’s bond between public bodies and private companies, these concerts demonstrate how the persistence of successive governments is reaping dividends for the country both culturally and financially. Alongside masterpieces such as "KPop Demon Hunters" and "Culinary Class Wars," the concerts hint at what’s next for Korea’s apparently endless cultural expansion across the world.
The choice of these two venues reminds us that the post-war physical development of the nation came hand-in-hand with government-sponsored cultural projects. As such, hallyu has been as much a politically-driven national project as the development of Korea’s heavy and light industries building ships and computers.
As far as I have seen, the many recent successes abroad of Korean products have been met here with nothing but pride, tinged with perhaps a touch of the inevitable nationalism. Less noticeable have been questions about whether this national success is worth its price.
Because it is no secret that there are problems in the Korean entertainment industry. For years there has been a constant stream of news about abuse of power, criminality (let’s never forget Burning Sun) and even the death of K-pop and K-drama stars. Yet each scandal is seen as isolated from all the others — it’s just a one-off, like last week’s one-off and the one-off before that. And we forget all of them the moment some new glamourous thing appears on our screens.
The ongoing legal conflict between Hybe and NewJeans is perhaps the latest example — not the worst scandal for sure, but one that doesn’t seem to end. It has been as full of unexpected twists as any Saturday night drama; even this week we’ve seen new developments as the group’s former mentor Min Hee-jin is offering to forgo a huge sum to stop all litigation. No-one seems to see the saga as yet more evidence of wider problems in the industry; it has been segmented mentally into a separate compartment — an unpleasant dispute but nothing to do with systemic abuses of power. Another one-off.
At least from the outside, HYBE's actions seem to be more than just a response to the clash with NewJeans. The message appears more calibrated at warning any other employees thinking of stepping out of line. Why else would they compel four members of the group to rejoin the company against their wills, while singling out one, Danielle, as the target for an enormous lawsuit? The group’s rebellion has been suppressed; now to remind everyone the consequences of defiance.
An obvious defense of HYBE is that all the trainees and debuting idols have consented and signed contracts; the law is simply taking its course. Indeed, the courts have ruled that the NewJeans members are bound by their contracts, and I have no doubt that the lawyers of all the big entertainment companies have long ensured their terms and conditions are legally watertight.
But a legal answer does not settle a moral question. Most of the NewJeans members were underage when they debuted. Is it really fair to force people to spend years of their youth working out a contract signed on their behalf while they were children? How is this not a form of modern indentured servitude?
Specific questions around NewJeans aside, the industry is murky at best. And we haven’t even mentioned the constant sexualisation of children and the general objectification that pervades the whole business. These are not secrets.
If we look at Korean pop culture as a government-catalysed industry, we can look at what the National Assembly has done. Some regulation does exist, but it hardly compares with the various acts designed to protect workers and punish negligence in other sectors. In fact, there are actually quite strong laws on the books mandating prison time for CEOs of companies where workplace deaths occur. There is no comparable movement for the damage done by the entertainment industry.
Even while complaining about all its many abuses, we can also accept the industry’s appeal and the escapism or healing or simple listening pleasure it offers to its consumers. And those artists who succeed really do succeed in a massive way. On an international level, K-pop and other cultural products are providing the country with soft power and hard currency. It is, in a word, glamourous.
But we shouldn’t let those benefits and that glamour dazzle us from asking serious questions about what’s going on, about the price being paid for Korea’s spectacular global rise. How much suffering is acceptable for the benefits that the cultural industries bring the country? How many ruined lives is one successful K-pop star worth? What is the value of a million clicks if measured per objectified young man or woman, per sexualised child? Per life lost?
Forget the free tickets to Gwanghwamun. These are the prices we need to talk about.