Why non-Korean academics can’t help but praise South Korea

Angling for the next research grant, fellowship, or invitation to a fancy event at a swank hotel around City Hall? Be sure to praise Korea!

South Korea comes across as the darling of non-Korean academics. From scholarly articles to international conferences, South Korea’s political and diplomatic maneuvers are showered with glowing accolades. It’s as if every foreign academic is competing in an unspoken game of "Who can praise Seoul the most?"

Is South Korea’s political and diplomatic success really that spotless, or are these scholars just angling for their next research grant, fellowship, or invitation to a fancy event at one of those swank hotels around City Hall?

Sure, South Korea has achieved impressive things, but the level of uncritical adoration it receives often feels less like rigorous analysis and more like a strategic career move wrapped in a veneer of intellectual admiration. Beneath the layers of compliments and buzzwords about "resilience" and "diplomatic finesse" lies a more cynical reality: sometimes, it pays—literally and figuratively—to stay on South Korea’s good side.

Let’s dive into why so many non-Korean academics are eager to keep the compliments flowing, even when the full story might be a bit messier than their polished papers suggest.

Reciprocity: The diplomatic dance of academia

South Korea isn’t just a nation—it’s a vital partner for many academics studying international relations, East Asian security, or democratic development. South Korean institutions are generous with grants, fellowships, and partnerships, offering academics unparalleled access to resources and insights. But this generosity often comes with unspoken rules: be respectful, be complimentary, and, above all, don’t make waves.

Criticizing South Korea’s political landscape or foreign policy—whether it’s the slow pace of reforms, scandals, or its sometimes inconsistent approach to regional diplomacy—can jeopardize these relationships. It’s far safer to stick to glowing reviews of South Korea’s "dynamic democracy" or its "remarkable resilience" in the face of geopolitical challenges. A little bit of praise goes a long way in keeping those doors (and funding streams) open.

From orientalism to overcorrection

Western academics have a long history of framing non-Western nations, including South Korea, as perpetually stuck in crises. Whether it was the Cold War narrative of South Korea as a battleground for superpower conflicts or its portrayal as a subordinate U.S. ally, much of the old academic discourse leaned heavily toward condescension.

Today, many scholars are keen to reverse this trend. By emphasizing South Korea’s political achievements—its transition to democracy, its ability to manage regional tensions, and its emergence as a middle power—they attempt to compensate for decades of skewed narratives. But in their rush to counter past bias, some scholars risk overcorrecting, portraying South Korea as an almost flawless actor in global politics.

Sure, Seoul’s diplomacy is impressive, but pretending it’s perfect? That’s another story entirely.

Selling the "middle power" narrative

Academics know their audience, and South Korea’s story sells—especially in the realm of international relations. Policymakers, think tanks, and media outlets love a good middle-power narrative, and South Korea fits the bill perfectly. South Korea put A LOT of money into building the narrative, and everyone was willing to run with it.

Want to get published or invited to the next security conference? Writing about how South Korea is a "model middle power" deftly balancing U.S. security guarantees with economic ties to China will do the trick. Want to turn heads in the development sector? Talk about South Korea’s transformation from aid recipient to aid donor. What nobody’s clamoring for are nuanced critiques of its foreign policy missteps or its struggles with domestic political gridlock. Those narratives are, shall we say, less marketable.

Career insurance: staying on Seoul’s good side

Let’s face it: praising South Korea is also a strategic move for career-minded academics. The country’s geopolitical importance makes it a key player in discussions on global security, East Asian diplomacy, and even tech-related foreign policy. Scholars who align themselves with South Korea’s positive narrative are more likely to secure high-profile opportunities: think keynote speeches, funding for research centers, or a coveted role as an expert commentator.

By contrast, being overly critical can be risky. No one wants to be the academic who gets blacklisted from a South Korean institution or finds themselves persona non grata in Seoul because they wrote a scathing op-ed about the latest political scandal. A well-placed compliment or two can go a long way toward ensuring a smooth professional journey. After all, it’s hard to get invited back to the table when you’ve flipped it over.

Dodging backlash and patriotic landmines

Critiquing South Korea’s politics and foreign policy isn’t just a professional risk—it can also provoke a strong public backlash. South Korea is a deeply patriotic country, and academics who wade into controversial topics—whether it’s tensions with Japan, the U.S. military presence, or domestic political scandals—often find themselves facing criticism, not just from the government but also from ordinary South Koreans.

For non-Korean scholars, this can be a minefield. Patriotic audiences might dismiss their critiques as misinformed, while South Korean institutions could interpret them as disrespectful. Even well-meaning critiques risk being seen as unfair or, worse, ungrateful. It’s much safer to stick to broad platitudes about "resilience" and "strategic foresight" than to delve into, say, the complexities of South Korea’s often divisive domestic politics.

Striking the (politically safe) balance

It’s not that South Korea doesn’t deserve its share of praise—it absolutely does. Its ability to navigate its unique geopolitical position, maintain democratic institutions (mostly), and project influence on the global stage is genuinely impressive. But when academics lean too heavily into the praise, they risk creating an overly sanitized picture of the country’s politics and foreign policy.

What’s the end result? Academic turdery - academic writing that’s like dog turds that turn white on the sidewalk in the summer sun, crumble, and blow away in the wind. Most of the semi-academic materials written with the support of either progressive or conservative government funding are not worth the glossy paper they’re nearly always written on. And the conferences… if you attend once, it’s understandable. More than once and you’re either a fool or a grifter who knows an easy mark.

Now, this is a massive generalization. There are good, honest, real research works out there. Just standing in the crowd and watching the ticker tape parade of compliment papers go by, makes it that much harder to find them.