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< | Invisible Eyes: Digital Surveillance in South Korea through "Parasite" | >
> | When Everyone is Watching: Chemyon, Squid Game, and the Persistence of Digital Surveillance in South Korea | | | -- By ChloeJo - 01 Dec 2024 | |
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< | Surveillance in the digital age has now permeated all aspects of life and is shaping the dynamic of society and the actions of individuals. The metaphor of surveillance technologies as parasites prompted me to revisit Bong Joon-ho's movie "Parasite" over the Thanksgiving break. Being at the forefront of technological innovation, South Korea offers a distinctive backdrop within which digital surveillance is intertwined with cultural norms– particularly those regarding shame and social conformity. In this essay, I would like to discuss how the movie "Parasite" illustrates the duality of digital surveillance and then relate it to broader implications within Korean society. | | | | |
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- In Episode 3 of Squid Game, a senior worker is monitoring resting workers in their private quarters through CCTV after the workday ends. Netflix screen capture.
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< | Duality of Digital Surveillance in "Parasite"
"Parasite" represents a double-edged nature of digital surveillance through the stark contrast between the lives of the Kim and Park families, respectively representing the lower and upper classes of society. | | | | |
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< | On one hand, surveillance functions as a means of empowerment on the part of the Kim family. They observe and control their environment to infiltrate the Parks. Ki-Woo, the son, closely monitors the Parks' daily routines to find employment opportunities, while his sister, Ki-Jung, uses her graphic design skills to forge university documents, which get her hired as an art therapist for the Park's youngest son. Furthermore, the whole family orchestrated incidents about the peach allergy incident that led to the dismissal of the existing housekeeper, using smartphones to create misleading evidence. The repurposing of surveillance technology undermines how the marginalized can use digital tools and surveillance on others to navigate the social hierarchy. | | | | |
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< | On the contrary, the Park family employs advanced surveillance systems to maintain control over their environment and the individuals who enter within. Their luxurious house is equipped with CCTV cameras, motion sensors, and smart-home devices that monitor every corner of their house. Not only does the surveillance technology symbolize their wealth and social class, but more importantly, it serves as a protective barrier against the outside world. It is more than a means for security and safety– rather, it is an exerting power over their employees. Under these watchful eyes, the Kims must work efficiently yet unobtrusively– all but invisible until they deviate from their preordained roles at the end of the movie. The internalization of surveillance, combined with the fear and anxiety of the Kims that their true identities will be exposed, dictates their actions and interactions. Thus, the constant surveillance reinforces the Kims' subordinate status and reduces them to objects of observation rather than individuals with agencies, leading to a profound sense of dehumanization. | >
> | The second season of "Squid Game" recently premiered, and I watched it over the winter break. As in the first season, the new episodes again depict high-stakes contests carried out under relentless scrutiny, where even a minor infraction can trigger severe consequences. Although this dystopian scenario seems extreme, it sheds light on a genuine aspect of South Korean society: the widespread acceptance of digital surveillance, from omnipresent security cameras (closed-circuit television, CCTV) to the everyday use of dashcams. To understand why this constant oversight provokes relatively little public objection, it is essential to consider the enduring influence of Confucian values– especially the concept of Chemyon (체면)– and how they shape social behavior, attitudes toward authority, and the fear of public shame. | | | | |
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< | This dynamic reveals a duality and an irony in digital surveillance: what at first was a means of empowerment for those who manipulated it to their advantage. Yet this use of surveillance technology eventually entrenched the Kims in a mechanism of oppression under the Parks. | >
> | A striking illustration of public surveillance in South Korea is the dash-cam, or "black box," found in almost all vehicles. These small devices constantly record driving footage, capturing traffic violations or collisions. While the reliance on recorded evidence reduces disputes and expedites the insurance process by clarifying liability in accidents, these "black boxes" gather more information than intended, including personal conversations or bystanders' faces. That is, such data collection might lead to civil liberties violations or invasion of personal privacy. Yet, in South Korea, where respect for communal stability outweighs individual misgivings, dash-cams have become almost a default feature of the driving experience. | | | | |
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> | The relative absence of major outcry regarding these surveillance practices can be traced to deeply rooted Confucian traditions that stress social harmony, deference to authority, and communal well-being. A key element of these traditions is Chemyon, a term that may be translated as "face" or "social reputation." The concept of "maintaining face" involves not only preserving one's individual honor but also safeguarding the reputations of family, friends, and colleagues. Since losing face can reflect poorly on one's entire network, individuals in South Korea often refrain from actions that might invite public scrutiny or judgment. In an age where everything from mundane car rides to social interactions can be recorded and easily discovered, the fear of exposure acts as a powerful motivator to comply with social norms. | | | | |
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< | Implications in Korean Society
The "Parasite" resonates with Korean society, where digital surveillance is pervasive and culturally ingrained. Understanding such behavior leads to the concept of "Chemyon" (체면), which is at the heart of the behavior code in Korean society. Indeed, Chemyon, rooted in Confucian values that highlight honor and respect for authority, calls for the preservation of one's reputation and prestige, not only for oneself but also for one's family and social groups. The internalized fear of "losing face" compels individuals to submit to external perceptions and approval from society and to prioritize collectiveness over personal desires or freedoms. | >
> | This phenomenon also explains why the idea of shared surveillance does not typically clash with Korean cultural values. Indeed, criticisms against these invasive measures are rarely introduced, partly because even challenging them can be perceived as undermining collective goals. When Chemyon is at stake, resisting communal expectations might be deemed selfish, disruptive or suspicious. In other words, it is often easier to acquiesce to universal monitoring than to face potential censure for standing out. Moreover, Confucian respect for hierarchical structures further encourages people to trust that those who manage the surveillance system are doing so for the public good, rather than for personal gain or malicious intent. | | | | |
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< | A tangible example of this cultural emphasis is the widespread use of dashcams, known as "black boxes," in South Korea. These devices are commonly and unquestionably fitted in vehicles to record driving footage for deterrence against traffic violations and vandalism, providing vital evidence in cases of accidents and encouraging responsible driving behaviors. The prevalence of these black boxes shows a collective acceptance of surveillance and how surveillance is integrated into daily life, often viewed as a necessary measure to maintain social order. Surveillance acts as a mechanism to enforce social norms, encouraging individuals to adhere to expected behaviors, just as the Kims in the movie. | >
> | "Squid Game," although fictional and exaggerated, captures the essence of this interplay between reputation, group cohesion, and the dread of exposure. Both contestants and workers under constant watch rarely attempt bold subversion, because any misstep results in immediate reprisal. The show essentially amplifies the underlying reality that in a society where one's actions are visibly monitored, people tend to conform to expectations. The threat of losing Chemyon, even in less dire circumstances like "Squid Game," can be a potent driver of social compliance. Instead of challenging laws or norms that might be destructive, individuals may self-censor in order to protect their reputations. | | | | |
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< | Taking "Law in Networking Society" made me be warned about such cultural acceptance of surveillance regarding privacy and the possibility of abuse. Normalizing surveillance can lead to a lack of critical examination, exacerbating social inequalities and overreach by authorities in power. Beyond safety and accountability, surveillance technologies act as a strong disincentive towards undesirable behaviors that fosters a culture of stifling individuality and discouraging dissidents. The psychological impact of constant surveillance, as depicted by the Kims in "Parasite," includes a sense of vulnerability in which individuals suppress their true selves to avoid negative societal scrutiny, leading to a homogenized society where diversity of thought and expression is diminished. | >
> | Yet, as we learned throughout the course, the widespread acceptance of surveillance raises concerns. One most obvious issue is potential abuses of data. When collected dashcam footage can be stored, shared, or sold in ways that individuals never intended, the potential data misuse grows. Additionally, there is also a risk that a society focusing on maintaining face can inadvertently stifle creativity and dissent. While the desire for social harmony can sustain public order and reduce interpersonal conflicts, it may also deter individuals from proposing unconventional ideas or exposing systemic injustice. Even though these flaws a recognized, in a society steeped in Chemyon may be reluctant to push for reforms if doing so means openly criticizing established practices as people who deviate from accepted standards risk being seen as troublemakers. This cultural values discourage whistleblowers, protestors, or innovators from making their voice heard, even if their insights might benefit society in the long run. | | | | |
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< | Governmental efforts to outlaw unauthorized surveillance activities, introduce policies that limit the duration of retained data, and demand government agencies and corporations transparency reports may be meaningful solutions. Yet, I do know laws will remain a weak deterrent to these individual conducts deeply ingrained into cultural acceptance of surveillance. Thus, I believe it is important to raise public awareness about privacy rights and what surveillance technology implies. I had very little idea about these issues before taking this course– accepting cookies and allowing applications to track my activity without much thought, Educating and encouraging people to use technologies that protect personal identities through anonymization and encryption becomes a necessary endeavor. The interplay between legal frameworks, education, and personal responsibility will help us better address the challenges posed by pervasive surveillance in our quest to live in a society that respects fundamental human freedoms. | >
> | Balancing the benefits of oversight (such as improved road safety, reduced crime, and conflict resolution) against these ethical concerns requires consistent and nuanced conversation about the scope and purpose of digital surveillance. However, I remain pessimistic about the prospects for significant change. In South Korea, people trust the intentions behind dashcams and CCTVs, regarding them as instruments of fairness rather than oppression. As long as the longstanding Confucian tradition and principle of Chemyon remains intact, it is unlikely that the public will heavily question these monitoring systems or scrutinize their expansion. The deeply rooted cultural preference for social harmony and the corresponding fear of being "cornered stone,"1 ensures that most South Koreans will continue accepting dashcams and broader networks of digital oversight with little, if any, resistance. | | | | |
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There are three stands in this draft, I think: a film interpretation; an effort to explain how concern for preserving "face" increases both appetite for surveillance and social conformism; and a plea for increased awareness of surveillance as a law school subject. It's hard to balance three themes in 1,000 words. I think the best route to improvement is to look very closely at the outlining of the connections among them. If the reader cannot see clearly how they combine and reinforce one another, an impression of incoherence is created. | >
> | In writing this essay, my aim was to highlight how deeply cultural values can shape public attitudes toward surveillance systems. By looking at the Confucian-rooted concept of Chemyon, I wanted to illustrate why people tend to regard such forms of surveillance as positive, rather than intrusive. If Chemyon continues to hold such influential sway, there may be little impetus to question whether these oversight tools could be misued, or whether they undermine personal autonomy in more subtle ways. Ultimately, I hope for a society in which everyone can live safely in harmony without having constant worry about being monitored. Yet I realize this may be asking for some utopia... | | | | |
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< | Bong Joon-ho's film is a parable about class struggle, an idea which is absent from the other strands, but which seems to be relevant, or even necessary, in relation to the discussion of these issues in a law school context like, for example, this course. So one possible editorial approach would be to clarify those connections. There are surely ways to use fewer words about dashcams in order to make the necessary room. More compression in the recitation of detail from the film will also help. | | | | |
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< | Discussion of chemyon, on the other hand, can more clearly elucidate precisely how Confucian social theory uses the poles of family hierarchy (conceived, of course, in rigidly patriarchal terms) to eliminate social categories of struggle (like class consciousness, or feminism) that cut across familial boundaries and therefore inherently challenge its normative "order." Teaching about reducing the power of surveillance in the interest of "freedoms," therefore, immediately raises questions about whose freedoms, and how we collectively define them. Perhaps this is "Squid Game" into which we have wandered instead?
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> | Footnotes
1 There is a saying in Korea "A cornered stone meets the mason's chisel." It means that it is better to live in harmony with other by living like others.
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