The Birth of Korean Cool by Euny Hong Page A

in order to piss off their parents or deal with the boredom of living in
suburbia. But in places without a long history of liberalism—that is, much of the world outside the United States and western Europe—people have a direct, overwhelming connection to
American pop music.
    Pop culture—specifically, American pop culture—played a large role in the fall of communism. In 1989, the former Czecho slovakia’s Velvet Revolution—in which the
Communist regime was toppled in favor of a parliamentary democracy—was partly inspired by students listening to an American band, the Velvet Underground.
    American pop culture was—for a time—the symbol of liberation for South Korea: American GIs introduced South Koreans to rock ‘n’ roll, Spam, and baseball—all of
which became immensely popular and synonymous with freedom: freedom from the Japanese, freedom from communism. (Koreans still like Spam. A lot. Outside the United States, South Korea is the
world’s highest consumer of Spam.)
    And now, it’s Korea’s turn. Korea looked to pop culture as a way to create new sources of revenue, unite people, and generate an exportable product that would help spread Korean
culture globally.
    K-culture has the potential to be a powerful diplomatic tool. I’m convinced that the late Korean president Kim Daejung will be proven right in his prediction that Hallyu, not politics,
will bring north and south together.
    North Korean black marketers are literally risking their lives to smuggle in copies of South Korean videos and dramas. In 2009, a North Korean defector to the south told
Time
magazine
that in North Korea, bootleg American movies fetched 35 cents on the black market, whereas South Korean movies cost $3.75, because the punishment for being caught with the latter is much more
severe. 2
    THE WORLD’S COOLEST MINISTRY OF CULTURE
    For the longest time, I couldn’t hear the words “Ministry of Culture” without thinking of some horrible totalitarian state. I was always reminded of the
Ministry of Truth in George Orwell’s dystopian novel
1984
, which produced lowbrow entertainment for the proletariat, such as insalubrious pulp novels written from a formula based on
six mix-and-match plots.
    I took a pretty dim view of the whole notion. That is, until I visited the Korean Ministry of Culture.
    Imagine the top levels of government working on virtual reality and hyperrealistic hologram technology—but not for the purpose of warfare or espionage; rather, to make a mind-blowing
concert experience. That’s one of the projects undertaken by the Ministry of Culture, Sport, and Tourism.
    What’s so great about holograms? “Holograms are very important for the performing arts,” said Choi Bokeun, who has the coolest title ever: director of the Popular Culture
Industry Division. The explanation was not one I was expecting to hear from a bespectacled, gray-suited, highly educated official in the Korean central government.
    Primarily, his focus is on Korean pop music, fashion, mass entertainment, comic books, and web cartoons. Sounds like a party! But Choi has what I suspect is one of the most stressful jobs in
contemporary Korea.
    You would never guess from the building’s imposing, high-ceilinged architecture and its dead-quiet corridors that any vaguely show-biz-related activity was taking place inside. Its
atmosphere and employees were redolent of the Einstein Lab at Princeton.
    One of Choi’s division’s roles is to promote the research and development of highly advanced “cultural technology.” I’d never heard that term before, but according
to Choi, Hallyu depends on it and the government invests a great deal on it.
    Holograms can enhance stage performances. For example, a K-pop band can give a quasi-live simultaneous performance in all the world’s major cities without actually being physically
present.
    Also in the works are artificial rainbows, as well as fireworks whose shapes can be manipulated