[Editorial] Between the K-pop Boom and the Medical School Rush

By Moon Ae-ri, Chairperson of the Korea Foundation for Women in Science, Engineering and Technology / Editorial Board Member, The Professor’s Times

The global response to “K-pop Demon Hunters” has been explosive. Reaching No. 1 worldwide on Netflix, the series has captivated audiences around the globe, following in the footsteps of Squid Game. The film’s soundtrack has dominated the Billboard charts, and related merchandise sold out instantly upon release. Earlier this year, Rosé’s viral hit “Apartment” even took home the MTV Award. K-pop and K-content have now firmly established themselves at the center of global popular culture.

At the same time, concerns are growing in Korea’s science and technology community. This year, the number of early-decision applicants to medical schools exceeded 70,000 for the first time. While young talents in the U.S., China, and India are heading toward engineering and entrepreneurship, Korea’s top students are flocking to medicine. Around the world, young innovators are entering trillion-won ventures—yet many Korean youth chase the promise of a 400 million won annual salary. This is the stark shadow hanging over the future of Korean science and technology.

In reality, becoming a successful idol is far more uncertain than becoming a doctor. Hundreds of trainees spend years of grueling practice, yet debuting is as difficult as threading a camel through a needle’s eye. And still, the stream of challengers never ceases—because there exists an ecosystem where even failure can be turned into opportunity. A trainee who fails one agency audition can try another; those who never debut can still build careers as YouTubers, choreographers, or composers. Even the journey of “dropping out” can become a fan-driven story and marketable content. The scale of success and social recognition has grown to levels unimaginable in the past.

By contrast, scientists and engineers face an unforgiving path—if a project ends, both career and livelihood are at risk. The time it takes to move from undergraduate studies to postdoctoral research is similar to the path from medical school to residency, yet the social rewards differ drastically. For those who witnessed the R&D cuts and researcher layoffs during the IMF crisis, a career in science still feels like a “high-risk, low-return” endeavor. Doctors frequently take the spotlight in K-dramas, but scientists and engineers remain behind the scenes, confined to their labs.

So, what lessons can be drawn from K-pop’s success?
First, it is about creating an ecosystem that turns failure into an asset. Just as the K-pop industry transforms rejection stories into content, the scientific community should value potential and process over short-term results. “Diligent failures” should be met not with penalties but with follow-up research opportunities and institutional support that allows researchers to pivot into entrepreneurship, policy, or education.

Second, there must be visible and fair rewards for achievement. Just as idols’ success has become a social aspiration, scientific accomplishments must also be recognized and celebrated in ways the public can appreciate—and rewarded accordingly.