an opined primer on Korean media landscape
I had several opportunities to talk about South Korea’s media landscape and freedom of the press recently. While preparing my talking points, it crossed my mind that I could use them for this newsletter too.
Just like everywhere in the world, the media is politicians’ favorite punching bag. In overdramatic rhetoric, President Lee again condemned the press for attempting an “honor killing”—what he actually meant would be character assassination—of him with “fabricated” stories.
However, I remain positive about the role of Korean media overall. The self-righteousness of the left is the biggest threat these days to Korea’s freedom of the press and the democracy it tries to defend.
Below, I offer historical and cultural contexts, plus my own view, to South Korean media landscape.
The Legacy of Democracy and the Power of “Portals”
If you look at the overall level of press freedom in South Korea today, it is quite robust. This wasn’t gifted by the state; it was fought for. Because the press played such a crucial role during the democratic uprisings of the 1980s, there is a strong societal consensus that journalists are there to hold the powerful accountable.
Traditionally, the South Korean media landscape was dominated by massive, conservative print newspapers—institutions deeply intertwined with the country’s political elite and the Chaebols, the massive family-run conglomerates like Samsung and Hyundai that dominate the Korean economy.
Inside Men is a film encapsulates how the left saw, with a nod from the public, the traditional political order. The evil triad of conservative politicians, conglomerates and media controls and decides everything.
Over the last two decades, however, the playing field fractured. And the catalyst was technology.
In other countries, you might get your news directly from a newspaper’s website, or via Twitter and Facebook. In South Korea, about 70% of news traffic is controlled by by “News Portals”—massive domestic tech giants like Naver and Kakao.
These tech giants are terrified of being accused of political bias. So, to remain neutral, their algorithms, in theory, offer equal display opportunities to almost any registered media outlet.
What happened? A massive proliferation of small, independent, and sometimes highly partisan online media outlets. When you look at the numbers about South Korean media, one stands out: the number of registered news media, which is more than 5,000. Without these portals, these small players would have starved.
The Irony of Fake News
Recently, we have seen a political backlash against critical journalism, often disguised as legislation to combat “fake news.” You might assume this authoritarian reflex comes from the conservative right. But interestingly, in South Korea, the most aggressive pushes to penalize the press recently have come from the self-proclaimed progressive, left-leaning administrations.
Why? It comes down to a profound siege mentality.
Progressive politicians in Korea vividly remember the days when conservative legacy media systematically opposed their movements. Because of this, they still operate under the assumption that the traditional press is a hostile cartel that must be dismantled.
But the reality of the electorate has changed. The young student activists who fought for democracy in the 1980s are now in their 50s and 60s. They represent the largest, most powerful voting bloc in the country. The progressives actually hold the cultural and demographic high ground. Yet, they still govern with the defensive paranoia of an underdog, leading to legislation that is surprisingly hostile to global standards of press freedom.
YouTube Politics and the Death of the Center
Because progressive politicians felt locked out of traditional media, they turned somewhere else: YouTube.
Globally, we are used to seeing alternative media and YouTube populism dominated by the far-right. In South Korea, it is the exact opposite. The most powerful alternative media networks are run by progressive producers.
Let me introduce you to a figure named Kim Ou-joon. He is a pioneer of alternative media. He has been building his audience for more than two decades. During the most recent leadership elections for the ruling progressive Democratic Party, the candidate backed by the sitting president was expected to win easily. Instead, a highly polarizing, radical candidate won. Why? Because Kim Ou-joon relentlessly backed him on his YouTube broadcasts. His influence is that immense.
But there is a dark side. Kim is not bound by institutional journalism ethics. Over the years, he has pushed wild conspiracy theories—including deeply irresponsible claims about the tragic Sewol Ferry disaster, where hundreds of high school students died, and election fraud theories.
This is the danger of our new era. Politicians now bypass traditional, fact-checked media entirely. They don’t give interviews to major dailies. Instead, they go on these hyper-partisan YouTube channels where they know they will be cheered by hardcore loyalists.
Now, political parties even rely on the partisan YouTube media for their political agenda. It eliminates nuanced policy debate. It is a race to the extremes, driven by algorithmic rage.
Do we still need public broadcasters?
The role of the public broadcaster is a frequent topic of debate in South Korea. It has been guzzling taxpayers’ money yet it keeps failing delivering what it promised: journalism as a public good.
In the UK, the BBC is structurally insulated from the government. (Although it doesn’t protect the broadcaster from being bashed by politicians.) In South Korea, the public broadcasters—KBS and MBC—are essentially spoils of war.
Whenever the presidency changes hands, the ruling party functionally controls the appointment of the network presidents. The executives are purged. The newsrooms are reshuffled. The tone of the broadcasts abruptly aligns with the new government. The situation at the MBC is the worst—sometimes it almost sounds like the Pravda.
As a journalist, it forces me to ask a difficult question: In a mature market with high levels of baseline press freedom, does it still make sense to maintain massive public broadcasters if their governance structures practically guarantee they will be used as partisan megaphones?
The Unintended Triumph of Journalism: The Case of “General Service Channels”
While I am not a market supremacist, I believe more market competition, including downsizing the KBS and privatization of the MBC, would bring more good to the state of the media. Let me leave you with a story that proves why market competition, and the core ethics of journalism, often outsmart political engineering.
In the late 2000s, a conservative administration decided to deregulate the television market, allowing major conservative newspapers to open their own TV networks. Progressive academics and media critics were furious. They argued this was a plot to establish a permanent conservative media monopoly.
The networks launched anyway—channels like TV Chosun and JTBC.
Fast forward to 2016. A massive corruption scandal begins to unfold involving the conservative President, Park Geun-hye, and a shadow-adviser named Choi Soon-sil, who held no office but was secretly manipulating state affairs and extorting Chaebols.
Who broke the story? Who relentlessly investigated the conservative president until millions of citizens took to the streets, resulting in her historic impeachment?
It wasn’t the progressive YouTube channels. It wasn’t the public broadcasters.
It was TV Chosun and JTBC. The very conservative networks that the progressives had tried to block. (Although JTBC is now considered left-leaning.)
Why? Culture plays a crucial role here. The historical context (its role in the country’s democratization) built a culture in the media industry that values, above all, revelation about the powers that be. The culture shapes how your peers assess you and your works.
We often underestimate how influential peer pressure is over partisan loyalty and sometimes even material gains. The creatures of establishment are bound to what establishment expects from them. How one would be remembered in the minds of their peers and the history will definitely affect what Kevin Warsh would do as the next Fed chair as it did to the judges presided over the impeachment of President Yoon.
When one channel broke a piece of the story, the sheer competitive drive of the market forced the others to dig deeper. The instinct to check power overrode partisan loyalty.
Conclusion
South Korea’s media landscape is chaotic. It is plagued by polarization, algorithmic echo chambers, and political interference. But the impeachment story reminds us of something vital. Even in the face of deep political division, a free, highly competitive press—driven by a culture that treasures holding the power accountable—remains the ultimate safeguard of a democracy.