Korea must become a nation of community
South Korea's success story is almost irrefutable. From the ashes of war, it rose into one of the world’s leading economies, with global strength in semiconductors, shipbuilding, automobiles and K-content. Few countries have transformed so quickly or achieved such recognition.
And yet a difficult question remains: why have Koreans become richer, but more isolated and lonelier?
Our world-class economy has not prevented a population shrinking, the world's lowest birthrate, the highest suicide rate, deep social distrust and growing loneliness. We have built material prosperity, but we have failed to build enough community.
During recent visits to Utah, I found myself thinking deeply about that gap.
At Welfare Square and the Humanitarian Center, I saw volunteers making food, repairing wheelchairs and preparing relief supplies for people beyond their own state. They were not there for praise, recognition or financial reward. They served simply because someone needed help. It was an active part or spirit of everyday life.
At the University of Utah School of Dentistry, Dean Rory Hume shared an observation I will not forget: one reason Utah’s health care system works so effectively is that the state has a culture of caring for one another.
What made that remark especially meaningful is that Hume is not originally from Utah. An Australian scholar and administrator who has served as president of the University of New South Wales, senior vice president at UCLA and chief operating officer of the University of California system, he has evaluated institutions across the globe. Yet when asked what gives Utah its core strength, he pointed not to money, technology or infrastructure, but to community.
At that moment, I thought of Dosan Ahn Chang-ho.
More than a century ago, when Ahn visited Utah, he observed a similar phenomenon. He saw people who valued civic responsibility, respected one another and gladly gave their time for the common good. The following year, he wrote about the contrast between a "heartless society" and a "warm-hearted society." His insight focused not on wealth, but on cultivating human character.
Utah still reflects that spirit today, consistently ranking among the top states for volunteering and charitable giving. In schools, neighborhoods and local organizations, civic duty remains deeply embedded.
This emphasis on mutual aid is not foreign to Korea. Our history includes rich traditions like "pumassi" and "durye" — systems of reciprocal labor and community support that helped ancestors survive hardship. However, rapid industrialization has replaced collective responsibility with hypercompetitive individualism.
We teach our children how to compete, but not how to belong. We prepare them for elite universities, but rarely for active citizenship. We train them to outrun others, rather than care for them.
To rebuild this social capital, we must integrate community service into our educational systems and encourage corporate cultures that value social contribution. A truly developed nation is not measured by GDP alone. High-trust societies enjoy lower social costs, stronger welfare outcomes and higher life satisfaction.
Ahn recognized this truth in Utah a century ago. Korea has already become an economic power; now it must become a nation of community. The next hundred years will depend on how deeply we trust one another and how willingly we reach out to help.
What kind of society will we choose to leave to the next generation?
James Park works at the University of Utah Asia Campus as the director of external relations and is engaged in international cooperation and community engagement. He serves as vice president of the Songdo Foreign Advisory Board and as an international adviser to Yeonsu District, Jinju City and the Mayor and City Council of Cottonwood Heights. He is committed to building meaningful bridges between Korea and the United States through education, public diplomacy and local government partnerships.