Media Distortions and the Chinese Proposition
Nostradamus — Good intentions, poor execution. The punitive damages system is a consumer protection law that can be invoked when a producer’s product or service causes widespread harm or loss to an anonymous public. Yet the first case expected to test this law involves not a massive conglomerate, but LSM Entertainment. The reason is the plagiarism controversy surrounding a recently returned idol group under LSM. A foreign artist claiming to be the original composer has hired Korean counsel and filed suit, demanding punitive damages as well. Legal experts predict the small Korean agency has almost no chance of prevailing against a foreign music giant. They assume LSM will be crushed under the weight of litigation.
This newspaper warned from the beginning that such outcomes were inevitable once the law was enacted. The timing was simply premature given Korea’s unique circumstances. The intent was noble, but it clashed with reality. The same holds true for the constitutional amendment. President Jeon Myeong-heon’s draft was a comprehensive package filled with admirable intentions, yet it attempted to reach an ideal state in one leap that should have been approached through several successive revisions.
Problems were bound to arise. The purge of pro-Japanese collaborators is a clear example. More than fifty years have passed; records are insufficient to verify individual histories, and holding descendants accountable for their ancestors’ actions amounts to guilt by association. Just as the punitive damages law suffered from good intentions mismatched with reality, the Jeon Myeong-heon administration must proceed with extreme caution to avoid repeating the same mistake.
The greatest concern, however, is the declaration ending the Korean War. The armistice was concluded far too hastily, without any apology from North Korea for the fratricidal tragedy of 1950–53. If Pyongyang treats the declaration as a blanket exoneration, inter-Korean relations will begin on a fundamentally flawed foundation.
“Wow.”
Yoo Jae-won let out an involuntary exclamation after finishing the article on his monitor. The piece began with punitive damages and concluded by attacking the constitutional amendment. Logically, not a single argument held water. If an elementary-school assignment asked students to find an example of the idiom “twisting facts to suit one’s purpose,” handing in this article would earn full marks.
“Still, copyright must be respected!”
Every mention of copyright made Yoo Jae-won’s blood boil. If China was the worst offender when it came to copyright violations, Korea was not far behind. ID Group’s software continued to appear in full on numerous Korean warez sites. ID Group had long fought aggressively to protect its intellectual property—filing lawsuits as a matter of course, flooding networks with fake files, and throttling server traffic. These tactics had produced decent results in the United States, a nation of lawsuits, but yielded little success in China or Korea. Enforcement actions against PC bangs and small businesses proved effective only while inspectors were present; the underlying problem was a lack of public consensus on the value of intangible software.
Fortunately, ID Group’s core business-to-business model meant it could still generate revenue even when individual users engaged in mass piracy. Yet companies offering paid internet services to consumers repeatedly complained that building sustainable revenue models was nearly impossible. LSM Entertainment faced the same issue. From the outset, the agency should have contacted RATM to purchase adaptation rights or obtain sampling permission. Instead, it simply used the material without authorization. Daehan Ilbo now defended this behavior by invoking “Korean characteristics,” an argument Yoo Jae-won found utterly absurd. If LSM had taken the material without permission, it had to accept both the plagiarism label and the prospect of damages claims from the original creators.
“At least not many netizens agree with the article.”
Yoo Jae-won felt relieved after scanning the comments. Most replies accused Daehan Ilbo of nonsense, questioning why an idol-group plagiarism case was being linked to a matter of national constitutional importance. The majority of comments condemned LSM and HxT, though the tone had grown dangerously heated. Direct profanity was automatically filtered into asterisks, but users quickly invented workarounds that slipped past the system. While symbols inserted between letters could be blocked, the real problem was the way ordinary words were twisted to carry malicious meaning. It was a constant arms race between filter and evasion. Yoo Jae-won therefore maintained strict filtering only on high-traffic news sites and public platforms, while relaxing it on forums such as 2CH.com. Administrators retained the ability to view unfiltered comments and delete them manually.
“What does ‘national disgrace’ even mean?”
One comment in particular caught his eye. The plagiarism scandal was LSM’s problem alone; the notion that it somehow shamed the entire country reflected a mindset still heavily influenced by the nationalist and statist rhetoric of the military regimes, now projected onto the entertainment industry.
“If LSM actually collapses, that would be a real problem.”
No one would believe him if he said it now, amid the torrent of public criticism, but the idol industry represented one of Korea’s most powerful future growth engines. Idols were the future—neither exaggeration nor empty rhetoric. Today the industry was dismissed as mere “singing and dancing” and criticized for lacking substance, yet in time it would be recognized worldwide as its own category, K-pop, commanding enormous attention and affection. Even in Japan, a neighbor with unresolved historical grievances, idols had been embraced without issue. LSM was one of the major agencies that had helped build this industry. At present, with HxT’s plagiarism scandal, such a future seemed unimaginable, but LSM would eventually become the global entertainment powerhouse that every teenager aspired to join.
“What if it really goes under?”
Yoo Jae-won had a bad feeling. In the past, such incidents had blown over. This time, however, LSM seemed genuinely at risk. Judicial transparency and fairness had improved dramatically, and the new punitive damages law added another layer of danger. If LSM fell, the trajectory of K-pop and the Korean Wave could diverge sharply from what he remembered—perhaps the phenomenon would never fully emerge at all. Though physically distant from Korea, Yoo Jae-won felt an unusually vivid premonition.
“That can’t be allowed to happen.”
To those unfamiliar with the idol business it might appear illusory, yet few industries held greater promise. After the Fourth Industrial Revolution, once artificial intelligence surpassed the technological singularity and versatile android robots appeared, the industry’s significance would change completely. Moreover, idols had contributed enormously to enhancing Korea’s national image. If LSM disappeared because of this incident, the future Yoo Jae-won had witnessed might never arrive. He would have to prepare for intervention. That did not mean shielding LSM from the consequences of breaking the law; the company would still face appropriate punishment. Direct involvement, such as an acquisition, now seemed worth serious consideration.
Beep.
While deeply focused on Korean affairs, an alert sounded. An important message had arrived via ID Talk. As chairman of ID Group, Yoo Jae-won received a daily flood of critical matters. Although he had two vice chairmen and a full executive team, certain decisions could only be made by him. The message now waiting for him was one such case.
— Chairman, this is Levin. Here is the updated management list for the DJ Foundation. We were only able to add three new names this month.
The sender was Levin Willis, head of the Information Team and also chairman of the DJ Foundation. While the East Asia Strategy Research Institute functioned as a think tank for future strategy, the DJ Foundation operated primarily as a lobbying organization. Its purpose was to maintain broad relationships with American politicians and influential figures in high society who shaped public opinion. When ID Group encountered obstacles in the United States, these semi-official channels often proved effective at resolving issues. The merger between Time Warner and Nextcomcast, for example, had been facilitated by the full activation of such lobbying networks. Although Time Warner had deployed its own channels, the DJ Foundation’s contribution had been substantial. The foundation therefore maintained detailed relationship maps, actively managed them, and recruited new contacts. This month, only three new names had been added.
“Only three? That does seem low.”
— My apologies. There were months when we added dozens. Three feels very small by comparison. Japan appears to have developed a heightened sense of crisis regarding you, Chairman, and has been lobbying far more aggressively than a few months ago. It hasn’t been easy.
“Japan?”
Levin was certainly not incompetent, so there had to be a reason. Japan had believed itself immune to the East Asian financial crisis. Yet the combined assault by Yoo Jae-won and allied hedge funds had exploited the very mistakes Japan thought it had avoided, inflicting enormous losses. The Nikkei, which had recovered to 20,000 points, plunged below 12,000 before finally rebounding—only to resume its decline. Many had assumed the market would recover once the hedge funds withdrew, but that had not happened. Japan’s credit had been severely damaged by a series of manipulation scandals, severing existing supply lines and making new business difficult. Customers who once paid a premium for reliable Japanese products were now shifting to slightly lower-quality but cheaper Korean goods, or even cheaper Chinese alternatives. Large Japanese conglomerates with diversified portfolios and global brand recognition had weathered the manipulation scandals relatively unscathed. Even Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, at the center of the scandal, had nearly regained its previous share price after offering substantial compensation to major clients such as Chevron and receiving emergency loans from the Japanese government. Small and medium-sized enterprises—the backbone of Japan’s economy—had taken the direct hit. One of Japan’s traditional strengths was rapidly eroding.
Japanese authorities had recognized the problem, yet their proposed solution—intensifying lobbying efforts in the United States—struck Yoo Jae-won as ironic.
— From Japan’s perspective, a single phone call to President Clinton resolved the crisis, so they naturally intend to focus even more resources there.
Levin, as head of intelligence, saw the situation with perfect clarity. Yoo Jae-won had already extracted everything he needed and exited, but to Japan it appeared the United States had once again come to the rescue.
— The Sasakawa Foundation has been especially aggressive. They are openly distributing funds.
Lobbying was simple in principle: cultivate goodwill with targets so that leverage could be applied when needed. The easiest way to buy goodwill was money. Whether the recipient was a politician or a professor, large donations under the guise of support were sufficient. Having suffered a decisive blow from Yoo Jae-won, Japan was now pursuing lobbying with far greater intensity.
“Well, we’ll do the same. Send me the expenditure plan and I’ll authorize it immediately.”
— Heh, I knew you would say that, Chairman. The venerable Sasakawa Foundation may be historic, but its resources no longer compare to your personal fortune.
A substantial portion of the profits Yoo Jae-won had earned in Japan remained in his personal accounts. Combined with the additional capital ID Group could mobilize, no lobbying organization in the world would rival the DJ Foundation. Yoo Jae-won made the remark casually, then opened the document Levin had attached. It contained detailed profiles of the three newly registered individuals: Joshua Cooper Ramo, Robert Shapiro, and Barack Hussein Obama II. The first two were white; the third was Black.
“Barack Obama.”
The file that drew his attention first was, naturally, that of Barack Hussein Obama II—the man who would serve as President of the United States from January 2009 to January 2017, America’s first Black president. He had entered politics in 1996 and was currently a state senator in the Illinois legislature. While the title “senator” might suggest an immediate superstar, he was a state, not federal, senator and possessed little prominence even within the Democratic Party. In American history he would become an enormously significant figure, yet Yoo Jae-won felt no particular affinity for him. Though his skin was Black, his worldview aligned closely with that of the white upper class. Furthermore, his lukewarm response even after North Korea completed the final pieces of its nuclear program had later caused Korea considerable hardship.
“This is sufficient. Well done.”
Yoo Jae-won was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure Al Gore’s victory after Clinton. If successful, the next administration would inevitably bring a change of power, fundamentally altering Obama’s future trajectory. Just as Korea experienced roughly ten-year cycles of regime change, it was rare in the United States for one party to monopolize the White House. If Al Gore succeeded Clinton, a Republican victory in the following election would be virtually assured. Should Gore fail, however, Obama would be the inevitable beneficiary—an insurance policy of unmatched value. As long as Yoo Jae-won existed, Japanese lobbying efforts would be outmatched not only in financial resources but in quality as well.
Several more days passed.
— RATM retains law firm Taeyang; criminal and civil suits filed simultaneously!
— HxT’s hardcore fans launch cyberattack on RATM homepage!
— LSM declares suspension of HxT activities; vows to reflect.
The idol-group plagiarism scandal remained the dominant topic among netizens. What would once have been a short-lived story had been kept alive by the shift to courtroom battles. HxT’s massive fandom continued to generate fresh headlines through collective misbehavior.
— National Assembly establishes special committee on constitutional amendment; begins review of Jeon Myeong-heon administration’s proposal!
— Emergency poll: 73% support, 20% oppose, 7% undecided.
Despite Daehan Ilbo’s attempts to muddy the waters with idol-related stories, the momentum behind the amendment remained solid. Recent polls showed overwhelming public approval, making it clear that controversy was one thing and the amendment process another. Public hearings and televised debates were being scheduled rapidly. At this pace, it seemed likely that a national referendum—or a failure at the legislative threshold—would be decided before October ended. Even Daehan Ilbo, which had been publishing daily critical articles, appeared to be catching its breath, recognizing that the time had come to attack the amendment’s driving force itself rather than peripheral issues. The opposition was likewise holding continuous caucuses and member meetings, preparing for a decisive confrontation in the Assembly.
Yoo Jae-won, too, faced a significant decision, contained in a single ID Talk message. The sender was Stefan Barber, president of ID Entertainment. The content was brief.
— Someone has arrived from China. A young man named Ma Huateng. He says he wants to distribute our games in China.
It was a crossroads regarding China business—the hottest topic in the world in the twenty-first century.