In March 2023, the United Nations (UN) General Assembly passed a resolution to request the International Court of Justice (ICJ) to outline each country’s obligations in regard to combatting climate change. Advocated for since 2021 by the Pacific island state Vanuatu, the initial campaign for the resolution was led by Pacific Island Students Fight Climate Change (PISFCC) and gained greater traction from there. The students aimed to raise awareness of the plights faced by the Pacific Island states and to emphasize the necessity of each country fulfilling its climate obligations. This marks the beginning of a historical moment, as it is the first time that the ICJ is going to advise countries on their legal obligations concerning climate change. Though the advisory opinion given is not legally binding, it does indeed have legal significance on an international scale. The ICJ is to clarify the climate obligations and rights of each state in black-and-white terms, based on the binding international laws of today, which provides legal backing to the climate obligations of each state. The advisory opinion is to be rendered in accordance with the following question: (a) What are the obligations of States under international law to ensure the protection of the climate system and other parts of the environment from anthropogenic emissions of greenhouse gases for States and for present and future generations; (b) What are the legal consequences under these obligations for States where they, by their acts and omissions, have caused significant harm to the climate system and other parts of the environment, with respect to: (i) States, including, in particular, small island developing States, which due to their geographical circumstances and level of development, are injured or specially affected by or are particularly vulnerable to the adverse effects of climate change? (ii) Peoples and individuals of the present and future generations affected by the adverse effects of climate change? If we take those majorly industrialized and densely populated countries as one extreme, the other is some of the island states spread across the different oceans. Examples include the island nations in the Pacific such as Palau, Micronesia, and Vanuatu. These Pacific island states are extremely vulnerable to the worst effects of climate change, especially the rising of sea levels, as most of them are low-lying. The lives of island inhabitants are increasingly threatened by the diminishing amount of land available for housing and farming. Climate change is not just something that is worrying for such people but is an ongoing crisis that is challenging their survival and eroding their basic rights to life. Ironically, these islands are also only responsible for 0.03% of greenhouse gas emissions, in contrast to the top 10 emitters that contribute to more than 60% of the emissions globally. In simple terms, these developing countries are the smallest contributors to climate change yet are suffering its worst consequences brought on by the major emitters. This is the definition of climate injustice. In the past, the Paris Agreement declared a global effort to limit the rise of global surface temperatures to well below 2°C above pre-industrial levels. However, this global agreement does not come with legal obligations that clarify the consequences a country will face if it neglects the actions required to reduce greenhouse gas emissions on a national level or even engages in activities that are actively harmful to the environment. In contrast, bringing the issue of climate change, in such a manner, to the ICJ signifies formal acknowledgment of the existing climate injustice in countries around the world. This opens up the possibility of better defining what a fair share is for each country’s climate obligations and the corresponding mechanisms in place to ensure that every country is fully committed to global climate action. This makes climate action more an achievable necessity than an afterthought. That’s the reason why Prime Minister Ishmael Kalsakau of Vanuatu stated the following in a statement for the UN: “Vanuatu sees [the] historic resolution as the beginning of a new era in multilateral climate cooperation, one that is more fully focused on upholding the rule of international law and an era that places human rights and intergenerational equity at the forefront of climate decision-making.” The concept of “saving our planet together” should not just be a hollow slogan but a sentiment that is reflected in our actual actions. “The more you pollute, the more you pay” is a basic principle that everyone can understand. The issues caused by the major emitters should at no point become a heavy and unreasonable burden on struggling nations, particularly to the extent that their people’s well-being and basic survival are compromised. Major polluters should pay more instead of expecting minor emitters to share the cost equally. Referring the issue to the ICJ is not the final solution to the global threat of climate change. Nonetheless, the ICJ’s advisory opinion should give a clear definition of each country’s legal obligations and how international law can play its role in supervising each country’s progress under this collaborative climate campaign. The advisory opinion is expected to be delivered in 2025, and the dedication of each country toward the stated obligations will then ultimately determine the success of our fight against climate change.

The University of Zurich (UZH) announced on March 13 this year that it would no longer provide data for the Times Higher Education (THE) World University Ranking. As the alma mater of the well-known physicist Albert Einstein and with its association with 12 Nobel Prize laureates, UZH’s decision to quit the THE ranking was like a bomb dropped on the realm of academia. According to the news released, UZH withdrew from the THE World University Ranking as “the ranking is not able to reflect the wide range of activities in teaching and research undertaken by universities.” UZH emphasized that the rankings “generally focus on measurable output, which can have unintended consequences.” The possible consequences a global university ranking can bring about have been a topic of enduring discussion. Many claim that these rankings push universities to pursue measurable outputs that help boost their ranking. This may lead to a concentration of resources being invested into certain fields and disciplines that are able to churn out considerable amounts of research, intensifying the unfairness of resource allocation. Moreover, the quality of teaching and research may be compromised if universities focus too much on publishing. At the same time, universities using their rankings as one of the main means of attracting potential students is becoming an increasingly common practice, as apparent from taking a look at universities’ official websites and social media accounts. One should always be reminded that university rankings do not necessarily reflect the realities of a student’s experience on campus. Take our many undergraduate students as an example. Most spend a large amount of their time in university attending lectures given by notable professors in high-tech lecture halls, gathering with friends in meeting rooms, and preparing for examinations at huge tables in the library. All of these experiences are impossible to evaluate based on a quantitative measure like university rankings. Nonetheless, such a quantitative measure can give us a brief insight into the reputation of academic institutions, making the selection process easier for students when they apply to university. One can identify renowned universities—on a regional or local scale—just by looking at university rankings. Imagine that there are no rankings published. How can students narrow down the potential universities that they will apply to out of a huge pool of options? As an international student myself, I was able to easily identify the renowned universities and departments in Korea, that offer the courses I was looking for, by looking at various rankings. At the same time, some other indicators used by university rankings, like the international members ratio, gave me a hint into how accommodating different programs are towards international students. No matter what your stance is regarding university ranking systems, one cannot deny that looking at rankings is the most reliable way to assess and compare universities, as non-quantitative factors are almost impossible to standardize for comparison. When we look at university rankings, we should always try and find out what the evaluation methods are for deciding them. Moreover, examining the different rankings of a single university might give us insight into the strengths and weaknesses of a university and a better understanding of the evaluation criterion of ranking systems. As an example, Seoul National University is ranked 41st in the Quacquarelli Symonds (QS) World University Ranking and 2nd in the THE World University Ranking, while Yonsei University is ranked 76th in both. One can thus look into why the rankings appear so different for these institutions. The extra work of cross-analysis is necessary as it is not enough to rely on a single ranking system to get the insight that we are looking for. We may never reach a consensus on whether or not university ranking systems should exist in our society. It seems that there is no better and more efficient way of comparing universities than through the currently available rankings. Despite this, we should always think about what we can learn from these rankings. If a ranking can effectively point out the shortcomings of a university, it can be used as a reference for students to find alternative universities to avoid those drawbacks. At the same time, a university may also identify and be motivated to improve upon its shortcomings, as evident through its ranking. According to the 2024 QS World University Ranking, many Korean universities saw a drop in their ranking. SNU was not an exception and scored only 36.9 out of 100 for the criterion of international research network, 11.5 out of 100 for the criterion of international faculty, and 14.5 out of 100 for the international students ratio criteria. These results are particularly relevant to many international students including myself. This criterion doesn’t necessarily mean that a particular university is not performing well in its teaching or research activities but can give a hint of the perspective of international students on whether or not the university is a good choice for them. A low ratio of international members may mean less accessibility to university facilities and services as well as classes for students who don’t know Korean. If international students want to fully immerse themselves in their academic environment, they must know if they need to pick up the language or attend a different institution. While I admit that the existence of university rankings can pose several dilemmas, I personally feel that SNU having a favorable rank is of no harm; in fact, it fulfills one of my qualifications for choosing a university. I believe that other members of our university may feel the same way. While some people may solely focus on the rankings of universities when deciding where to apply, others may simply want to know how various universities are performing according to their ranks. Regardless, we should always be reminded that rankings are just a quantitative measure that cannot paint a complete picture of one's academic experience.

Two planes fell out of the sky. Hundreds of aircraft once grounded, now fly free. And yet, the scandal goes on. Boeing was a company once associated with engineering excellence. However, the 737 MAX, its latest model, is causing controversy surrounding its safety. Just what is going on with Boeing and its 737 MAX, and is it something we should be worried about? To understand why Boeing’s 737 MAX is facing so many problems, we must first look into the reason it was developed. The 737 MAX was not a plane Boeing had always anticipated to build. Instead, its creation was heavily motivated by the development of a rival’s plane – the Airbus A320neo. Introduced in 2010, the A320neo was an upgrade of Airbus’s older A320s. And it was a major hit, which Boeing did not like. The company followed suit in making its own upgrade just a year later, with its best-selling 737s—the 737 MAX. The 737 MAX turned out to be highly successful, outselling the A320neo. However, hidden behind its rapid success was an imperfect product born from rushed development—driven by competition rather than innovation—which would soon come back at Boeing to bite. The date was October 29, 2018. Lion Air Flight 610, an Indonesian domestic flight, had just taken off when the brand-new 737 MAX inexplicably started hurling itself towards the ground. It seemed that it had a mind of its own. Just 13 minutes after takeoff, the plane crashed into the ocean, and all 189 passengers aboard were lost. Five months later, Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302, another MAX 8, experienced an almost identical scenario during take-off. Despite the pilots’ best efforts, it also crashed, taking with it 157 more lives. Subsequently, countries worldwide banned the planes from flying until the problem could be determined. In Korea, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, and Transport (MOLIT) banned the only Korean operator of the fleet—Eastar Jet—from operating their 737 MAX 8s. Korean Air also volunteered to postpone the introduction of their MAXs, originally scheduled to be delivered in May of 2019. It would not be until March 1, 2022—three years after the accidents—that Korean Air would begin operations with their delivered MAX 8s. Investigators quickly found that a new software Boeing had implemented on the MAX was to blame for the accidents that had occurred. This software, called MCAS, was implemented to fix an instability in the aircraft pitch caused by the upgraded engines. Boeing’s oversight was that MCAS relied on a single sensor to signal if it should activate. On the two fatal flights, this sensor malfunctioned, and MCAS activated incorrectly, pushing the planes into the ground. But more important than this oversight was the fact that the MCAS system was not properly documented. Pilots simply did not know that this system existed. In fact, it was revealed that Boeing intentionally withheld information about MCAS. This was because a new system as substantial as MCAS would require greater investment into pilots’ training, which Boeing felt would lessen the 737 MAX’s competitive edge against the A320neo. Eventually, the MCAS problem was fixed, and the MAX flew the skies once more. But that did not signal the end of the MAX’s scandal. In January of this year, a door plug (a device used to secure unused exits) of an Alaskan Airlines 737 MAX 9 was ripped from the plane during its climb. This time, it was revealed that Boeing had simply forgotten to install the bolts needed to keep the plug in place. Numerous whistleblowers now share their accounts of safety violations at Boeing, where engineers are encouraged to cut corners as much as possible. There is fear that this may not be the end of the MAX’s tale of controversy. As of April 2024, five Korean operators—Korean Air, Eastar Jet, Jeju Air, Jin Air, and T’way Air —operate the 737 MAX 8, with Korean Air possessing the largest fleet of five aircraft. This number is expected to rise as the older models phase out. Then, does this mean the skies will soon be filled with unsafe planes? A positive note is that Boeing does seem to be changing as a result of this scandal. The company is in a difficult financial situation, and it knows further incidents will only cause more groundings and order cancellations. During the investigation into MCAS, Boeing chose a closed response and refused to reveal company information. However, during the Alaskan Airlines incident, the corporation openly acknowledged its mistake, agreeing to cooperate fully with the investigation. Outside of Boeing, the scandal has also prompted the FAA, the US federal agency responsible for certifying planes, to revise its certification process. Previously, some parts of the process were outsourced to employees at Boeing, leading to a lack of supervision by the organization. But what is often overlooked is the fact that it is the passengers who have contributed most significantly to making Boeing change. It is only because of public interest, extensive media coverage, and ensuing pressure that Boeing is forced to acknowledge its need for transparency. Think of this: when we book flights, how often do we consider the models of the planes that we fly on? Compared to the airline, time of take-off and arrival, and transfers among other factors, the model of an aircraft is rarely taken into consideration. But this attitude may have allowed Boeing to relax its quality control, knowing that passengers don’t care, as long as their planes get them to their destinations. After the accidents involving the 737 MAX, some booking sites have introduced an option to filter out flights via the MAX aircraft. While this new feature may sound small, it hints at how the public can make flying safe once again. By allowing passengers to be more informed on which aircraft they travel on, their preferences can have a greater impact on shaping the practices and decisions of the aviation industry. If a certain model is boycotted, airlines will lose profit and choose to operate alternative aircraft. Aircraft manufacturers like Boeing are then likely to realize that such aspects of passenger preference absolutely cannot be ignored. It was pressure from passengers that pushed this issue forward and revealed the truth once kept hidden within Boeing. Perhaps it is time to raise our voices further: let the manufacturers know that our safety isn’t something that they can neglect.

No society in the real world can be considered a utopia. If anything, I would imagine that each one is more dystopian than utopian. In that sense, I think of Korea as being “cyberpunk,” a term referring to the futuristic sub genre of dystopian science fiction. Upon hearing the term “cyberpunk,” you may think of flickering neon signs in shabby streets as well as urban jungles of skyscrapers with vivid 3D images projected all over them. These collective images of cyberpunk we share are largely influenced by sci-fi movies. The Blade Runner franchise and Akira, a highly commended anime classic, have given us ideas of the aesthetic features of cyberpunk. However, what makes a society cyberpunk is more than just surface-level visuals. Often defined as “high tech, low life,” cyberpunk is fundamentally about sacrificing the quality of human life for technological advancement. Then how can it be that cyberpunk is our reality right now? It seems that we might be living “low lives” after all that we’ve gone through to galvanize the economy and develop cutting-edge technologies. Some societal features highlighted in the cyberpunk films are hardwired in Korea, which thus suggests that Korean society is quintessentially cyberpunk. First of all, unresolved post-apocalyptic chaos is an important quality of a cyberpunk society. Take Neo-Tokyo in the anime Akira as an example. Built in the aftermath of the explosion of Tokyo and the subsequent World War III, it looks like a high-tech utopian city. But in actuality, the splendors of the cityscape are merely veneers. The city carries a series of ills derived from this calamity: the citizens are exposed to violence and drugs, and anti-government rallies prevail due to distrust and corruption. Just as the disorders from disaster linger in Neo-Tokyo, so do those of post-division polarization in South Korea. The country’s colonial legacy under Japanese rule, authoritarian past, and the Korean War have left bruises on the integrity of Korea’s democracy. A core idea of democracy is the embrace of diverse opinions. Ironically, the hard-won democracy in Korea has, in a sense, backfired; it’s often used as a justification for the brutal crushing of others’ opinions. In fact, the National Assembly Futures Institute claims in its Futures Brief, Vol. 23-08 that “Korea has distinctive patterns of polarization in politics.” While “political polarization elsewhere is more centered on specific points in policy and ideology, Korea's polarization in politics is characterized by the fierce fight for a moral high ground, with the tendency to blindly dismiss opponents’ voices as an attempt to disgrace or denigrate them.” It’s hard to have genuinely democratic debates under such circumstances. Out of 28 different countries surveyed by King’s College in 2021, Korea ranked the highest in 6 out of 11 kinds of polarization, making it the nation with the most prevalent culture wars. Another attribute of cyberpunk is isolation. K, the protagonist of Blade Runner 2049, represents the lonely figure of cyberpunk societies; he finds no true meaning in life nor has any dependable social relationships. His only connection is that with Joi, an AI-powered, customized girlfriend, with whom he seeks love. But in fact, they’re just feigning love. Deep down, K also seems to know this relationship doesn’t resolve the real loneliness within him. Korea also has its own signs of escalating isolation. As of 2023, about one-third of Korean households are single-person households, which are vulnerable to the loneliness epidemic. There’s also been a rise in godoksa; which means “dying alone,” with its rate increasing by 8.8% over the last 5 years. To lull their depression, many people engage with pop culture, watching or interacting with idols, streamers, and influencers. However, this is but a getaway, just like K’s girlfriend. Such parasocial relationships with online entities cannot entirely replace real human bonds. Worse, they may detach people from reality and even exacerbate their loneliness. Lastly, dehumanization through evaluation is an integral part of cyberpunk. When human life becomes something to evaluate and label, its essence is corrupted. “Nosedive,” an episode of the Black Mirror series, presents a future where people are constantly rated on a scale of 1 to 5—as if they are commodities. People are obsessed with maintaining high ratings since these ratings impact every aspect of their lives, such as their access to housing or employment. Overly fixated on improving their evaluations, they force themselves to “enhance their value.” Human identity is at stake as one’s worth is defined by ratings. Similar dehumanization happens in Korean society. We are constantly being evaluated and a common purpose in life—the possession of a diploma from a high-ranking university, goods of great monetary value, and social prestige—is defined for us. According to Lee Chul Seung’s “Rice, Catastrophe, Nation”(2021), this phenomenon is partly a result of the collectivist culture derived from our society’s agricultural origins. It also has something to do with our post-war sufferings and subsequent rapid economic growth, which have led people to grow obsessed with materialism for survival. In internalizing the uniform goals imposed by our society, our identities are in danger of becoming a series of achievements or boxes we’ve ticked off. We measure and evaluate our happiness almost solely based upon them and our humanity withers. Legacies of disasters, isolation, and dehumanization are deeply rooted in the nation today. This may prove that technological advancement is not an absolute solution for a healthy society. Thus, for a brighter future, there needs to be a renaissance to awaken our sense of humanity. There aren’t perfect, straightforward solutions to fixing all societal problems, but still, the value of meaningful change through individual contemplation and community participation must not be overlooked. We need to remind ourselves that we don’t have to label ourselves by our tangible achievements. We should also reach out to those struggling with loneliness and offer our support. Moreover, we should engage in lively discussions to share diverse opinions in a respectful manner, instead of pointing fingers at one another. This would lead us to actually hear others’ opinions, which is important to building a genuinely stable democracy. Following these steps, we may be able to take the first initiative to re-humanize ourselves and escape from a “low-life” society.

Expensive housing is a familiar and pressing issue for many Seoulites, especially those who have just received their graduation scroll or landed their first job. According to a survey conducted by the Seoul Institute in 2021, 53% of 676 Seoul citizens in the age range of 18 to 34 responded that buying a house is impossible for them without support from their parents. Young Seoulites are evidently faced with a rather bleak situation. However, they are not alone, as their peers in Taiwan and Hong Kong are also struggling with this plight of housing unaffordability. The price-to-income ratio of these countries can be treated as a measure of the difficulty in affording a house. According to data from Numbeo, it would take approximately 24.9 years of not spending a single dollar to afford a house in Seoul, 28.8 years in Taipei, and 32.1 years in Hong Kong. In fact, finding a place to stay even through renting is never a simple task. For example, in Seoul, though an expensive deposit and recurring payment for a weolse unit may be more manageable than what is required for a jeonse unit, an even larger deposit, both renting options pose a huge burden on young people. People from these three countries spend their entire lives managing high rental costs or paying off housing debt. Whether one rents or buys, one must compromise one’s quality of life just to try and secure the basic rights of living. However, it is interesting to note that in Singapore—one of the four Asian dragons alongside Korea, Taiwan, and Hong Kong—the number of years that one must go without spending to afford a house is 14.9 years. At least a decade less than that of the other countries, it is apparent that Singapore has a much more friendly housing market. To provide further context, these four Asian economies were nicknamed “Four Asian Dragons” due to their rapid industrialization and development since the 1960s, which eventually led them to enter the list of developed economies that continue to have important roles in global technology and trade today. However, all these economies are now facing a similar phenomenon of a scarcity of land and a high density in population, leading to housing affordability being one of the largest challenges faced in the past few decades. Therefore, it is worth knowing what places Singapore in a different position than the other three dragons. Indeed, having one’s own place is not a large struggle for Singaporeans living in the so-called lion’s city, despite it being ranked as the world’s most expensive city to live in. This high affordability of housing is largely due to the public housing program of the Housing and Development Board (HDB). Through the program, the government owns 90% of the state’s land, effectively controlling the potentially unlimited increases in the price of land, resulting from transactions in private ownership. HDB public housing units were initially launched in 1960 to tackle the housing crisis emerging for low-income groups due to the growing population. The flats are currently allocated based on the mechanism of the built-to-order (BTO) system. BTO allows first-time home buyers to get an affordable housing option subsidized by the government, with the down payment and home loans being largely covered by the mandatory Central Provident Fund (CPF), which employers are required to contribute to for each of their employees. This makes owning a house much more feasible, and the citizens are barely required to compromise their quality of life to do so. Not only that, but a HDB unit is subject to a 99-year lease, meaning that it only needs to be returned to the HDB after a century, for the land to be recycled and reused. This design accommodates the needs of the house owners and their children. Up till now, more than 1 million HDB flats have been constructed and accommodate 80% of the Singaporean population, which is not a norm around the world. A successful and sustainable public housing scheme requires stable funding by the government, achieved through comprehensive policies. This is difficult to execute. In many places, public housing is often poorly maintained with incomplete amenities, giving society a bad impression of such a housing scheme. Hence, we consider high-rise, luxurious apartments as the opposite of the rows of aging public flats; the perception of public housing is that it is for low-income groups that have difficulty affording other, perhaps better options. Public housing aims to eradicate social inequalities to a certain extent by providing alternative options for house ownership. However, the failure of these schemes instead exacerbates social stratification. In contrast, in Singapore, people of all income levels live in public housing units, which the government continues to enhance for the benefit of residents. Owning an HDB unit means that a quality living space is safeguarded for generations, and any possible instability that arises from renting is also eliminated. In other words, the Singaporean government has achieved housing justice for its citizens. In conclusion, the initial establishment of a public housing scheme depends on many crucial factors, one being the government’s ability to acquire substantial land from the private sector. This process is both time and cost-consuming, and countries cannot enjoy the fruits of such labor until much later on, if at all. To ensure affordable housing for the people, far-sighted and stable policies are important, with sound planning of the financial system to support the expansion of public housing. The sustainability of such a scheme is a separate issue. It depends on ensuring the quality of public housing and encouraging people to choose that option. Singapore's success may not be achievable everywhere. However, what it does do is propose the possibility of addressing the widespread issue of housing injustice through a public housing scheme aimed at all income levels.

In May of 2024, OpenAI once again stunned the world by announcing its latest innovation, the GPT-4o. This LLM (Large Language Model) distinguishes itself from its predecessor by being “multimodal,” no longer limited to text but seamlessly mixing audio and images into conversation. But as innovations in chatbots like ChatGPT and Google Gemini are receiving most of our attention, we notice a pattern: the LLMs we use today are dominated by English. While these English-based AI do have support for Korean, they have, for a long time, had a reputation for performing comparatively worse in non-English languages. This is perhaps one reason a Korean-based chatbot service would be more useful to Korean-speaking users. So what are some of these Korean-based LLMs that are in development today? And how well do they fare in the ever-changing world of AI? Naver’s HyperClova X Perhaps the most prominent Korean LLM in development is NAVER’s HyperClova X, which is featured in the company’s chatbot service CLOVA X and its AI-assisted search engine Cue. The CLOVA X service, released in August 2023, is currently in open beta—anyone with a NAVER account can try it out. NAVER claims that this model was trained using a dataset of Korean content 6,500 times larger than that by ChatGPT, making the LLM much more fluent in Korean. Since its release, the model has received positive feedback for its ability to fetch real-time data and provide sources for them. CLOVA X also allows users to select which “skills” may be used in the AI’s replies, which is a way of integrating the AI with different services, such as NAVER’s Shopping and Travel sections. Users also pointed out that CLOVA X performs better than ChatGPT at providing information that is specific to Korea and answering questions asked in informal Korean dialogue. However, it has drawn some criticism, particularly in regard to the low accuracy of the replies the model provides. SBS News in September 2023 reported that the model fails to provide accurate data when asked about the number of seats in the Korean National Assembly and gives vague answers, especially when asked for its opinion. As of May 2024, CLOVA X still seems to struggle with basic algebra; when asked to “calculate 1 – 2 + 3 – 4,” it gave the wrong answer 0 in multiple conversations, though it did correct itself when asked to try again. When questioned about recent events, such as “the ICJ’s ruling on Israel’s Rafah offensive,” it gave a correct summary citing a news source, but also erroneously provided the year of the decision as 2023. Models in Development Other Korean companies have also proposed their own LLM models. Kakao is reported to be working on KoGPT 2.0, a model with a maximum of 66 billion parameters. Its reveal was planned for October 2023 but was ultimately postponed. NCSoft is reported to be working on VARCO, a model with a maximum of 13 billion parameters. Foreign Competition One problem these newly rising Korean-focused LLMs face is the fact that foreign models, such as GPT, are also becoming increasingly better at understanding Korean. An official report by OpenAI showed that GPT-4 has an accuracy of 77% in Korean, compared to 85.5% in English. While this accuracy in Korean seems comparatively low, it is far better than the English accuracy of the predecessor GPT-3.5, which was 70.1%. This means that the capabilities of GPT are improving regardless of language. GPT-4o was also announced to introduce a new tokenizer (an algorithm used to split text into smaller parts which the AI can understand) that uses fewer tokens for certain languages, especially languages that are not based on the Latin alphabet. This makes replies in non-English languages, including Korean, cheaper and faster to produce. So, if foreign LLMs can understand the Korean language well—possibly even better than the Korean models—is developing those Korean models worth it? The Korean LLMs’ Edge A paper by Son et al., published in February 2024, documents the testing of 26 different LLMs using a newly proposed, Korea-specific benchmark: KMMLU. Each of the models was asked 35,030 questions across 45 subjects. Unlike the more popular benchmark MMLU, which the authors described as containing U.S.-centric questions, the KMMLU was fitted with questions that require “an understanding of Korean cultural practices, societal norms, and legal frameworks.” When tested on these common LLMs, it was found that GPT-4 performed the best, achieving 59.95% accuracy, followed by HyperClova X at 53.40% and Gemini Pro at 50.18%. However, HyperClova X performed the best on questions requiring Korea-specific knowledge, with an accuracy of 55.21%, followed by GPT-4 at 54.89%. The authors noted that the models that are trained specifically on Korean text, like HyperClova X, consistently outperformed their counterparts on Korea-specific questions. These results show that even though HyperClova X performed worse than GPT-4 overall, it was still able to answer questions about Korea more accurately than foreign AI. The fact that it is a Korean-based LLM seems to have given it an edge in its knowledge of Korean culture and society. It is true that currently, Korean-focused LLMs are not as popular as their English-based counterparts. In the future, as the “big models” like GPT-4 improve their support for different languages, developing a model to be more fluent in a specific language than popular models may not be an easy task. Even so, one advantage such an LLM may bring, as seen through the benchmark testing, is the fact that it was trained on local data, which better reflects the social elements found commonly in the region. In an interview with The Korea Economic Daily in 2023, NAVER CEO Choi Soo-Yeon stated, “What I have learned from operating a search engine business is that even when one searches the same word, the results in Korea, the US, and Japan may all be different [...] Therefore, the key to developing a successful model would be to consider not only the language of each country but also its culture.” This aligns with the observations made by the authors of the paper: NAVER’s HyperClova X was able to generate more accurate answers to questions about Korean subjects—such as law, history, and culture. For those living in Korea, this is a significant advantage of Korean LLMs over the foreign ones that are popular today. Therefore, this deeper understanding of Korea—perhaps more important than Korean language fluency—could be what gives Korean LLMs a continuous edge against their globally dominant counterparts.

Buddhist temples have always had a welcoming atmosphere, even to total strangers. Big or small, they serve as places of solace for locals, providing a serene space detached from their day-to-day lives. As an irreligious temple visitor, I wanted to explore a temple in Gwanak-gu and unveil its hidden qualities. I decided to embark on a short journey to a temple called Gwaneumsa, nestled in Mt. Gwanak. Hoping that this journey would take me away from the stressful mundanities of life, I hopped on the subway at Seoul National Univ. Station. It took about 10 minutes to reach Sadang. Upon first arrival, the atmosphere was far from tranquil. The streets were dense with buildings and bustling with people, especially the trekkers who were there to hike Mt. Gwanak. Slightly perplexed, I quickly scurried through the streets on my way up to the temple. As I walked along the steep path leading to the mountain, it became harder and harder to keep myself from losing my breath. By the time I reached the base of the mountain, I was left wishing that I had brought a whole bottle of water, not a half-empty one. Moments later, when I was taking the above picture of the meticulously colored gate of Gwaneumsa, a shuttle bus passed by me, loaded with temple visitors. Turns out, the temple offers shuttle buses every weekday. (You can take the fare-free bus, in front of Unam building near Sadang station, up to the temple. The bus follows a morning schedule that offers rides at 7, 8, 8:30, 9, 9:30, 10, and 10:20.) I was briefly frustrated because all my efforts felt somewhat in vain: I could have taken the easier way, with no sweating whatsoever. However, resuming my way up to the temple, I realized it was worth traveling at a walking pace while gradually absorbing the nature and structures surrounding me. I stumbled upon mini mushroom-shaped stone towers (or possibly lanterns after nightfall) scattered along the path, as well as totem poles of carved stone. It was at this point in my journey that I felt like I was hiding away from one world and entering another. Finally entering the main temple area, I took a slight detour and approached a small shrine first. Not knowing much about Hanja—the Chinese characters used in Korea—I couldn’t read two out of three characters in the shrine’s name, nor could I comprehend the stories it was telling through the intricate murals on both its inside and outside. What I did notice was that three old ladies perched on the shrine’s floor were looking at me. “The entrance is the door on the side,” one of them said to me. I thanked her and took off my shoes to step in, marveling at the shiny golden statue of Buddha and the magnificent artwork surrounding him. I knelt on one of the cushions and saw a book that contained prayers. Reading “Myungbujeon” written on its cover in Hangul, I finally learned the name of the shrine. The ladies affirmed that the book did contain prayers and exclaimed, “The administrative office gives the books away. You should definitely go and get one!” I thanked them again, amazed by their attentiveness. Although not a big temple, Gwaneumsa had a lot of buildings with exquisitely crafted dancheong, and some big monuments like a stone tower and a Buddha statue right beside the main shrine. But nothing filled my heart with more pleasure than the charming beauty of a little fountain with a tiny shrine behind it. This very scene epitomized what I had imagined of a picturesque temple: lush vegetation growing out of the nooks and crannies of rocks, a small yet quaint shrine, and water that reflects the scenery. The smiling monk made of rock was the cherry on top. It was truly astonishing how this temple visit rejuvenated my body and mind, even though I’m not very well-acquainted with the cultural background of Buddhism. The exquisite intricacy of the architecture and the unexpected interaction with the local Buddhists were indeed effective distractions from the pressures of everyday life. The whole process allowed me to briefly “go off-grid,” which is hard to achieve in a world where we’re connected to one another in so many ways. I was able to cut out the external stressors and put my mind at ease, just wandering and contemplating. The whole journey was much like a meditation. This feeling of refreshment had me wondering what it would be like to habitually visit this hidden gem. I visited the administration office to ask about the shuttle bus schedule, and a group of ladies who work there greeted me and kindly answered my questions. They also gave me a prayer book, which included Sanskrit and Hanja prayers written in Hangul. On my way out, one of them stopped me to give me two packs of freshly baked rice cakes. It was a nice surprise, and I was astounded by how they tried to help me in every possible way. Their words and actions reflected a genuine form of the Buddhist mindset: cherishing every single person and helping those around you. All in all, the peacefulness of Gwaneumsa seems to penetrate the minds of local Buddhists. In a much greater state than before, I went down the mountain. My initial goal for this journey was just to appreciate the scenery and take my mind off the stressors of life for a while. But there were also unexpected experiences that deepened the meaning of this trip for me. I had the space to reflect on myself in ways that I hadn’t before. I was reminded of the importance of living compassionately, always giving back to the community and helping others. Through interacting with the local Buddhists, I found a reflection of Gwaneumsa in each of them, guiding them to live in peace and harmony. Visiting a temple doesn’t necessarily have to bear a certain religious purpose. Go visit Gwaneumsa when you need to relax or introspect. You might make a valuable discovery within or around yourself.

In February, Twitch, the leading global platform in live-streaming, announced the shutdown of its business in Korea. While Korean streamers may still stream, they can no longer profit from their streams, nor can viewers spend money on the platform. In previous years, Twitch has made many efforts to cut operational costs in Korea, including downgrading the video quality available to viewers in the country. Nevertheless, the company ultimately decided to shut down its business, due to the “seriously high costs of operating in the country,” citing one core contributor—South Korea’s unnaturally high network fees. Twitch is not the only foreign media company that has been struggling with Korea’s high network fees. Recently, Netflix was involved in a legal skirmish with SK Telecom after refusing to pay its network fees, deeming those fees to be unnecessarily high. This makes us wonder—just how expensive are the network fees in Korea? Twitch remarked that Korea’s network fees are approximately 10 times higher than that of most other countries. A 2016 blog post by Cloudflare, a major CDN (Content Delivery Network) service, also stated that Korea’s transit fees (a form of network fees) are about 15 times higher than a European or North American counterpart, being “perhaps the only country in the world where bandwidth costs are going up.” Why is this? Most of this local price increase stems from a legal amendment to the Telecommunications Business Act in 2016, called the “Notification on Interconnection (상호접속고시).” To understand why this amendment is significant, we must first look at how the internet functions. The internet is made up of three main actors: Content Providers (CPs) like Twitch and Netflix which provide media, Internet Service Providers (ISPs) such as SKT and KT which manage the network the media travel through, and the end users who consume this media using their devices. A crucial fact about the internet is that it is not a system managed by a single ISP, but a collection of thousands of networks run by individual ISPs throughout the world. When you are watching a YouTube video or a Twitch livestream, the media may have jumped through multiple networks managed by different ISPs before reaching your phone. The “Interconnection” in the amendment refers to this—data transmitted through the different ISP networks, specifically, networks by the three major Korean ISPs: KT, SKT, and LG U+. Previously, data was allowed to be transferred between the three Korean ISP networks free of charge, allowing foreign CPs to strike a deal with just one ISP. End users for all three services would get the media without ISPs paying extra. However, the amendment to this law enforces pricing on the interconnected data to be paid by the sender ISP. Therefore, Korean ISPs are now inclined to pass this fee onto the CPs, making network fees more expensive. Proponents of the legislation state that it encourages media-producing giants to pay their network usage fees. Previously, this free interconnection was seen as allowing “free-riding” on the network: these large CPs could provide tons of traffic while not paying as much. However, this type of regulation is unlike most conventional approaches to the internet—which promote ISPs to use their discretion on interconnection—and has come with some negative effects. One early service that was impacted by this amendment was Facebook, which had operated a cache server (which provides end users with content) within KT. Facebook users using SKT or LG U+ previously had free access to this server. The amendment, however, made it so that KT was being charged by SKT and LG U+ every time those users accessed the website, and the fees were ultimately passed onto Facebook. To avoid having to pay a premium, Facebook has had to re-route its data for SKT and LG U+ users from servers in Hong Kong, which has caused a significant increase in loading time for users accessing the website. As we can see with Facebook’s problems and Twitch’s shutdown, the increase in network fees brought on by the amendment has caused CPs to provide “lower-quality” content or to leave Korea altogether, which has come as an inconvenience for end users. But there is potentially a larger implication behind this amendment, having to do with the concept of net neutrality and fair access to the internet. Often brought up in the discussion of network usage fees, net neutrality is the concept that ISPs should treat all media delivered through their networks without discrimination. For instance, ISPs should not offer differential pricing when you are accessing Google versus Naver if the data usage is the same for both websites. There is considerable debate over net neutrality, and many proponents argue that it has significance beyond just being an agreement that ensures end users access to all websites. For example, it could be directly related to ensuring freedom of speech in the online world. A statement by Human Rights Watch in 2021 pointed out that one of the further proposed amendments to the Telecommunications Business Act was that ISPs can ban certain CPs for not providing network fees. Though this was just a proposal, it shows that increased regulation in network fees may allow ISPs to prioritize certain paying CPs, which may ultimately harm net neutrality. Various CPs terminating services nationwide due to high costs may also have a similar effect on end users as it disallows fair access to the internet—a core concept in net neutrality. The shutdown of Twitch may have been an inconvenience to a small number of people who used the website, but it has a significance that reaches the wider public. We must remember that the online space is not just a platform for conducting business. It is a new type of space that allows anyone to share knowledge, culture, and ideas throughout the globe. Importantly for Korea—online platforms, such as Netflix and YouTube, have been the primary distributors of culture in the modern world. With policies supporting the globalization of Korean culture, having network fees that are so high they scare away foreign businesses only does more harm than good to the nation’s goal. As such, the non-economic functions of the internet must be further considered in the ongoing discussion about Korea’s network fees.

The general election is over, leaving winners and losers, but also loads of wasted street banners. These banners are highly effective media to get messages across to us; with their striking colors and fonts printed on large pieces of hard-wearing synthetic fabric, hardly anyone can fail to recognize them. For a couple of weeks, the streets have been inundated with these banners, promoting politicians’ campaign promises. Even after the election, politicians have more banners hung to express their gratitude for being elected or to apologize for falling short of our expectations. The voices of politicians do need to be heard by us, as it is our duty to vote for them and to contribute to the actuality of our democracy. However, it is questionable whether the rampant use of banners should be allowed to continue for this cause. The streets are flooded with excessive amounts of banners, which degenerate the city environment in the following ways. First, they compromise the street view and the city experience. High-frequency advertising through banners does help messages stick in our minds, but it is often too aggressive. The conspicuous colors and substantial sizes of banners hold us back from enjoying the harmonious view of the cityscape. Plus, they’re like repetitive online advertisements that we can’t even skip: we are likely to become fatigued by the bombardment of information we didn’t even ask for. A simple walk down the street thereby becomes more and more overwhelming. Moreover, it’s been pointed out that the banners pose a potential threat to our safety. As huge panels tied around trees or fences are meant to occupy street space, some block pedestrians’ sight and hinder drivers from properly reading what’s happening on the road. This has led to inconveniences and even injuries. Last but not least, these banners contaminate the ecosystem. They are made out of polyester, and most of them are buried or burnt after their one-time use. It takes more than a century or two for banners to disintegrate, and during the process, they leave microplastics behind. When burnt, they emit toxic fumes. Despite the critical implications on the environment, the number of wasted banners in previous general elections has escalated from 13,980 in 2016 to 30,580 in 2020 and is projected to be even higher this year. The national assembly has acknowledged the problem and has made some efforts to reduce the amount of political banners. The amendment of the Outdoor Advertisement Act went into force this January, making progress in stipulating where to allow and where to ban banners, as well as the number of banners that may be used per party. However, while this amendment caps the number of banners issued by political parties, it doesn’t restrain an individual politician from hanging banners of their own. With this loophole, there could still be a flood of banners produced by individual politicians filling in for their parties. We might have to go through another holiday with banners hung over every corner, saying nothing more than “Enjoy your Chuseok” or “Happy New Year,” so that politicians may give off a friendly impression. We should not risk environmental hazards so politicians may serve their own interests in gaining recognition. More serious change is needed in the current unsustainable use of banners in politics. Then, what can be done in the future to preserve the environment while maintaining the integrity of our democratic practices? Clearly, the usage of banners must be reduced. This could mainly be done by passing legislation that encourages politicians to use other media to promote their political messages. Replacing banners with online promotions could be a good alternative, as online promotions don’t take up physical space. They wouldn’t be an eyesore or create blind zones, and this would help us reduce plastic waste. If so, why don’t we replace all physical banners with digitized ones? Turns out, physical banners do have qualities that make them hard to substitute. They’re affordable, easily recognizable, and are accessible to nearly everyone. However, even if banners are a necessity, there should still be supplementary measures aside from just reducing the number of them produced for political use. It is possible that we make banners out of eco-friendly material. Starting this year, Gimhae, a city in Gyeongnam province, is producing banners for the local government using eco-friendly fabrics, such as biodegradable polyester and a grain-based textile. Both kinds of fabrics decompose in landfills within 3 years, making substantial progress from ordinary polyester’s centuries-long degradation and its harmful byproducts. There is also a way to upcycle banners. Upcycling refers to reusing trash to make something of higher value. Starting from 2021, Yecheon in Gyeongbuk province, has made sacks out of political banners. Not only is this an achievement for the local sustainability initiatives, but it has also helped the local government to save its budget for disposing of the banners and purchasing sacks. There’s also a project called “Vote for Earth” to turn the election banners into windbreakers, making the best out of the sturdy polyester. With our endless creativity, upcycling could certainly go a long way. Cutting back on banners is a pressing issue that needs to be addressed for the sake of our daily lives and that of future generations. Political practices, above everything, need to be environmentally sustainable; they’re supposed to protect the people and secure their well-being in the world. For a sustainable democracy, we will have to go step by step, first by publicly discussing and addressing the liability of political banners.

By being one of the most beautiful months, April fools us with her cruelty. While the blooming spots of pink, yellow, red, and white flourish; while the sky boasts her best colors; while the excitement of spring veils the harsh winter days; we are not exempt. The warmer days and softer winds do not comfort us—we are not exempt from depression. T.S Eliot begins his poem “The Waste Land” with the famous line: “April is the cruellest month”. Eliot writes “The Waste Land” as a way to express his sense of loss and despair after the First World War. In the poem, spring—the epitome of rebirth—creates a sense of dissonance along with the speaker’s hopelessness, and paradoxically serves to accentuate the speaker’s sadness. However, Eliot is not singular in his plea to escape the harshness of spring. Contrary to popular belief, more people are affected by depression in spring than in winter. In a 2019 article published by John Hopkins, psychiatrist Adam Kaplin states: “In April, May and June, the suicide rate goes up and is the highest”. Kaplin follows by saying that these “…numbers can be two to three times higher than in December, when suicide rates are the lowest.” Although we typically tie seasonal depression with autumn and winter, spring triggers depression as well. The phenomenon of spring depression can also be seen in popular media. An example would be the song “A Cruel April” by South Korean indie band— Broccoli, You Too? The 2012 song builds onto Eliot’s description of April being “the cruellest month” with the following lyrics: April has begun, as if telling a lie Everyone is going back to their places But it feels like I'm left here all alone Not knowing where to go … As the flowers bloom when spring comes The children that are too old to feel their beating hearts, Have nowhere to go Even when the spring light is bright The band addresses important issues through the concept of “A Cruel April”: the issue of isolation and empathy. The song describes how spring creates a sense of isolation, where the whole world seems happy and lively and new and lovely—when you are not. We may feel as though we are exempt from the happiness given to the whole world, as the song mentions: “Everyone is going back to their places, but it feels like I’m left here all alone”. When we are unable to “empathise” and take part in the happiness that surrounds us, we begin to feel alienated and estranged. That is the cruelty of spring. The issue of empathy is one caused by a lack thereof. It is difficult to express our own hardships when everyone else seems to be perfectly happy. We may fear “contaminating” others’ happiness with our sadness. Furthermore, it becomes easier to compare ourselves with others—who seem to be infinitely happier (especially with the façade of social media). The vibrant atmosphere of spring ironically creates an environment where we are unable to express our sadness. No one is “safe” from depression. No one can be “safe” from depression. We cannot blame ourselves, or anyone for depression—but this is not to say that we should remain in an unhealthy state. The realization that the depressive state is an irregular, unhealthy state is pivotal in the process of recovery. Depression comes in autumn, winter, summer, and spring. It can come when we are young or old. It can come at any time of our lives, but we do not need to fear it. There is always a way, there is always help. You are never alone. Spring symbolizes rebirth, hope, life, and vivacity. While many take part in the liveliness of the season, there are many who are exempt from the kindness of the season. Eliot’s poem shares with me the common understanding that as humans, we tend to fear happiness and hope after experiencing despair and loss. We fear that spring will bring a harsher winter and we fear our own happiness because we are too used to being hurt. But hope is a strange thing, and it is a dangerous thing, and it is within us. Let us take care of each other so that even when April is cruel, we can rely on each other. Photo courtesy of @amyhamiltonphotographer (Instagram) --Ed.