South Korea’s most successful export is curiosity

Following BTS’ return after their military service, the number of Duolingo users in the U.S. learning Korean rose by 22 percent compared to the previous year, according to The New York Times.

Well, Korea is usually described through its cultural exports: K-pop, TV dramas, cosmetics, brands and perhaps kimchi. It’s a handy formula, but it only explains the audience’s initial reaction. What’s far less obvious is this: very often, interest in Korean content doesn’t stop at the content itself.

It’s just the starting point. Because many people start with music or K-dramas and unexpectedly end up somewhere completely different. At first, it’s a single music video or an episode. Then comes the second episode, followed by a playlist, then short videos about life in Seoul. Next, videos about Korean universities, cities, customs and even everyday details like how people spend a typical day suddenly appear.

And at some point, it becomes a little awkward to admit: the interest is no longer in the content. The interest is in the country. This is precisely what makes the influence of Korean culture so peculiar.

Most countries export cultural products: films, music, brands. These may be popular and can even achieve cult status. But in most cases, interest in them remains confined to the product itself.

Korea operates differently. Its cultural exports often lead to broader interest. After watching a drama, people start looking for context: where it was filmed, how life is organized there, why people behave the way they do, what kind of society it is in general.

One could, of course, say that it’s all down to the quality of the content. Or the marketing. Or a fortunate combination of circumstances in the digital age. Or, most likely, a bit of everything.

But there is another factor that is discussed less often. Korean content is often structured in such a way that it does not explain everything fully. It shows fragments of life, but leaves enough details off-screen to make the viewer want to fill in the gaps themselves. This could be the urban environment, social relationships or even simply the characters’ everyday habits.

And it is precisely these "gaps’ that invite you to explore. This is where an effect emerges that is difficult to measure in terms of ratings or view counts.

Korea is becoming not just a country of content, but a country of questions. Why do people study so much? Why do the cities look the way they do? Finally, why do tradition and modernity coexist rather than replace one another?

And the more such questions arise, the further away the initial interest in a single specific series or song recedes. Perhaps this is precisely why the Korean cultural wave has proven so enduring. It is not limited to simply being "interesting." It becomes a starting point for a broader interest — in society, language and everyday life.

And if one were to try to describe this in a single sentence, it would be quite simple and slightly ironic: Korea may be exporting not so much its culture as the habit of asking questions about it.

Oksana Vaneeva is a young journalist, an ambassador for Leadership Council and Immerse Education and a participant in the AFS international program conducted in partnership with the University of Pennsylvania, which brings together young leaders from more than 100 countries.