Nation of 50 million kings, queens

In a general sense, it would not be entirely misrepresentative to point out that in the vast majority of households in Korea, if you are born a son, the sincere hope and “shoot for the stars” objective of your parents would be for you to become the next president or, secondarily, end up in the vicinity, with expectations gradually and more pragmatically turning to more realistic ambitions of you becoming a doctor, lawyer or the like.

And so begins a lifelong journey of hypercompetition, where, truly, the only people that want you to do better than them are, indeed, your parents.

Perhaps the environment has been fostered from our history of challenges and division, or has resulted from associated growth pains due to our nation's unprecedented and exponential development within a relatively brief period, or more so from a heavily concentrated economy, resulting in a near zero-sum ecosystem for the segments of the market remaining open and available.

On a positive note, this resulted in Korea boasting one of the most educated and professionally apt populations in the world, with approximately 70 percent of Koreans aged 25-34 having completed tertiary education, the highest rate among OECD nations. This mindset has manifested globally, with Korean expats excelling both academically and professionally worldwide. Korean students also continue to rank near the top globally in mathematics, science, reading comprehension and problem-solving assessments, reinforcing the international perception of Korea as an educational and intellectual powerhouse.

Such ambitions and channeled efforts have directly correlated into success for our economy and, more recently, the export of our culture, with the rise in relevance and popularity of K-everything. “Why are Koreans so smart, so hard-working, such good singers, dancers and athletes?” have become common inquiries. From semiconductors, shipbuilding, batteries and biotechnology to K-pop, cinema, beauty, gaming and cuisine, Korea has transformed itself from a postwar aid recipient into one of the world’s most influential exporters of both industrial capability and soft power within the span of a single generation.

But, what’s next and what about in the brave new world?

Many years back, when I was interviewing candidates for a mid-management post, I asked the question, “Where do you hope to see yourself five years from now?” I remember a candidate working at a major Korean conglomerate answering, “Becoming a senior executive,” while another, then at Google HQ, responded, “I want to change the world!”

The scripted path of studying hard, attending Seoul National University and working at Samsung or Kim & Chang — ultimately becoming and retiring as a senior executive or partner — remains an admirable and ideal blueprint of success in Korea for many. However, there are unavoidable macro and real-life shifts today that we must begin facing.

I am, of course, referring to the impact of artificial intelligence (AI), more specifically, agentic AI, which will inevitably and very quickly test the importance and relevancy of what and how we study, work and develop. The likelihood is that much of what we spend our lives learning and experiencing may become partially or entirely moot, null and void. Recent studies now suggest that more than half of current work activities are technically automatable through existing AI and robotics capabilities, particularly within white-collar and knowledge-based professions previously considered insulated from disruption.

Suffice it to say that the Korean educational system is largely based on rote memory, relatively more IQ- than EQ-focused, where standardized college admissions testing tends to be primarily objective and quantitative versus the more subjective and qualitative considerations surrounding university admissions in the United States. While this framework has historically produced exceptional academic performance and discipline, the emerging AI era may increasingly reward creativity, adaptability, communication, emotional intelligence, interdisciplinary thinking and original ideation — areas where purely standardized optimization may prove insufficient.

Naturally and inevitably, this begs the question of our educational and professional relevancy in the technical and global scheme of things, where, for lack of a more suitable word, we will need to become more “human” to essentially do what cannot readily be done inorganically moving forward.

“Do what the robots cannot!” will not be a far-fetched nor too distant requirement in many respects, and “human” transformation may need to be prioritized concurrent to “digital” transformation. Ironically, as machines become more capable of logic, memory, analytics, coding and repetition, the premium placed upon distinctly human attributes — empathy, judgment, storytelling, leadership, persuasion, creativity, ethics and emotional resonance — may increase dramatically. The future competitive advantage may no longer belong to those who simply know the most, but rather to those who can synthesize, adapt, imagine and inspire the best.

One thing is for certain: Koreans have indeed been among the very best at adaptation, flexibility, resilience and innovation, and our facilitation of the new era of global order and technology will come at speed with full enablement. The same society that rebuilt itself from war, industrialized within decades, digitized faster than almost any nation on Earth and successfully exported its culture to the world should not underestimate its ability to evolve once again.

The next Korean miracle may not simply be technological — it is likely to be fundamentally human.

Sung Lee is a senior advisor and partner at Midas Private Equity; concurrent advisory and directorship roles at Hyosung Group, Kakao Games, Mirae I&C, and Yefira Group; former Country CEO of WPP Group, Global Head of M&A for Ogilvy Worldwide, and Regional Director for Clear Channel; Juris Doctorate, University of Michigan.