What we can learn from the Korean Wave

South Korean media’s hold on global audiences shows no signs of letting up any time soon. Leading from the front are of course the Bulletproof Boy Scouts aka BTS, but years before their global takeover, a rapper from Seoul gave us Gangnam Style. PSY’s 2012 single served as an initiation into the Korean ability to create pop culture history. With 9 million YouTube views a day, it went viral within days, and its iconic dance steps were being performed by dance mobs, presidents, and at the UN – where it was hailed as a ‘force for world peace’. It’s still one of the most watched videos worldwide.

Meanwhile Korean dramas – unique for emotionally vulnerable characters and a willingness to make viewers cry rather than offer easy resolutions – were steadily gaining international audiences. But still treated as ‘niche’ content. Then Parasite made history by winning Cannes’ Palme d’Or and 4 Oscars at the 2020 Academy Awards, the only non-English film to ever win Best Picture.

The following year Squid Game broke Netflix’s viewership records and claimed six Emmys and a Golden Globe. When Maggie Chang’s love letter to Korean culture, KPop Demon Hunters, became an instantaneous global phenomenon in 2025, it felt like the Korean Wave was now a tsunami. But the love for K-pop, kimchi and K-dramas is not a viral trend; it is the outcome of 30 years of policy and planning forged in the flames of crisis.

Like Pakistan, Korea has weathered many storms. The end of WW2 brought freedom from Japan, but it also led to partition into Russian-backed Communist North and US-backed South. The North’s repeated reunification attempts spiralled into the 1950-53 Korean War, at huge human and economic cost. No stranger to humanitarian disaster, Pakistan rushed relief to the South Korean people. Over the next decade Korea moved from an agrarian economy towards industrialisation while Pakistan gained essential infrastructure and economic growth. Both countries also experienced years of fluctuation between dictatorship and democracy.

With so many shared storylines it’s no wonder Pakistani audiences resonate with Korean storytelling. After all, the interactions between characters from the North and South in 2019’s global hit K-drama ‘Crash Landing on You’ could just as well have been an encounter between Indians and Pakistanis, sharing a mixture of initial distrust, remembered pain, and simultaneous curiosity about each other’s lifestyles and culture.

So where did the Korean Wave originate? Well in 1993, with dinosaurs. The original Jurassic Park was the highest-grossing film of its time, earning $851 million. Till then Korea’s economy was dependent on family-run heavy industries: SAMSUNG and LG (electronics, semiconductors), Hyundai and Daewoo (cars, shipbuilding) contributed 40% of the economy. But when the catastrophic 1997 Asian economic crash hit, the Won lost half its value overnight and the state needed an IMF loan to survive. South Korean policymakers realised that one film’s earnings were equivalent to 1.5 million Hyundai cars. They saw the potential and formed the Ministry of Culture for economic diversification and bolstering national pride.

Today South Korea has the 4th largest Asian economy, 13th globally. Korean television, film and music, in tandem with beauty, food and tourism, have captured hearts and markets worth $14 billion. But even as wealth grows, its past and future strain against each other. Expectations, especially on women, are still traditional in the patriarchal Confucian society.

Women are still primary caregivers, not just of their children but also ageing parents and in-laws. In countries that traditionally place a lot of value on family, community and caregiving, the burden of raising children, and keeping families together is falling on women who must now also contribute financially to counter increasing costs of living.

Combined with the fact that there is still a significant gender pay gap, women are hesitant to get married due to ‘the culture of patriarchy and gender inequality’ (Cho, 2021). Government interventions to align career and family include subsidised health and childcare, high-speed trains for quicker commutes and even speed dating. But these physical initiatives have made limited headway. Crashing marriage rates may have stabilised, but average marriage age is rising and the fertility rate rests at 0.8 births per woman in 2025 (population stability requires at least 2.1).

The question is how much more can women be stretched before survival trumps honouring traditions? When women fear having children because men won’t step up, both genders will be losers. The K-drama When Life Gives You Tangerines beautifully encapsulates the struggles and evolution of traditional gender roles, where some women stubbornly uphold toxic patriarchal norms, others evolve, and men who break those cycles to be devoted partners and parents become aspirational. It may be set in Korea, but mothers everywhere want the same thing: for their daughters to not only be allowed to eat at the same tables but also flip them over – with their fathers’ blessings!

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