The past decade of hedging has been productive, even impressive, but it cannot last indefinitely. Eventually the overlap will vanish, and Seoul's two strategic paths will diverge for good. Korea will have to choose.

For the past three decades, the notion that North Korea’s nuclear weapons are about survival, made sense. First, they offset the vast conventional superiority of the United States and South Korea. Second, in light of the steadily dropping number of states in the Axis of Evil, they effectively deterred any attempt at regime change. Over the last year, survival seems less of a priority.

South Korea is currently in final negotiations with the United States on a deal that could reshape the balance of power in the Indo-Pacific: the construction of nuclear-powered submarines. What began as a diplomatic coup — Washington’s agreement in principle to support Seoul’s acquisition — has become bogged down in one deceptively simple question: where will they be built?

Asia’s future will be scripted with the fate of two trilaterals — and South Korea sits at the center of both. The first is the U.S.–Korea–Japan partnership (USKJ), the most explicit security alignment in East Asia. The second is the China–Korea–Japan (CKJ) partnership, a quieter but increasingly consequential alignment built on trade, supply chains, and monetary coordination.

After 20 years, APEC returned to Korea, but it feels different. Leaders arrived in Gyeongju for the first Korean-hosted summit since Busan 2005, but the optimism that defined APEC twenty years ago has vanished. The hallways are full, the cameras are flashing, yet something vital has gone missing.

South Korea’s bid for Canada’s submarine project raises a provocative question for Australia: if Canada and Korea can build a modern, sovereign, conventional submarine fleet together, why can’t we get in on it too?

It’s now in all the media. Lee Jae-myung will meet Donald Trump and Xi Jinping next week. Both are billed as state visits; only one will function as one. The first will be a circus, the second will be a summit. The difference could not be starker.

APEC was the fruit yogurt of multilateralism. An unnatural panoply of fruits from across the region — summits, declarations, handshakes and hesitatingly hilarious national costume photo shoots.

There is an inevitable fate that portends all small-to-mid-sized states adjacent to great powers—particularly those that (a) hold territory considered to be strategically relevant; (b) are heavily influenced by or controlled by a perceived opponent to the adjacent state; and (c) are heavily influenced by or controlled by a state in relative decline.

George W. Bush, Nicolas Sarkozy, Therea May, Bill Gates, John Hennessy, Larry Ellison, and George Soros - virtually every target of an Alex Jones conspiracy alert - has spoken there. And this year, it was Justin Trudeau’s turn.

U.S. alternative media is awash with stories on Israel and Gaza, Ukraine and Russia, and now Iran and Venezuela. There’s influence operations, assassinations, drug imports, illegal killings, imminent nuclear war, and the collapse of NATO, the E.U., the U.N, and even the U.S. But where’s the Korean Peninsula?

The rationale for withdrawal is no longer political fatigue or alliance friction, but geography, vulnerability, strategic cost, and maritime logic — a recognition that the defense of Korea has again become an expensive deviation from America’s natural strategic posture.

Washington’s build-up toward possible military action in Venezuela and Iran has attracted concern that the attacks are part of an irreversible decline. For its distant middle power partners, this raises a question: must middle powers fall when their patron does?

Just last month in New York, South Korea’s Foreign Minister Cho Hyun met with Seyed Abbas Araghchi, Iran’s Deputy Foreign Minister. The meeting, held on the sidelines of the UN General Assembly, came at a delicate moment.

This week, South Korean authorities expressed concern regarding the potential impact of anti-China protests during APEC. Anti-China sentiment is today a regular feature at political demonstrations in Seoul and has grown substantially with the growth of extreme right sentiment on social media. Both Beijing and Seoul are concerned.

A long time ago, in a university far, far away, I spent late evenings reading dusty and dated international relations texts.

During the Biden Administration and now under the second Trump Administration, South Korea’s strategists have had their feet washed off the strategic sandbar and are caught in a rip.

The Lee Administration seems hopeful that there’s purpose in securing a summit with North Korea. Let’s call it a Sunshine Policy sequel.

John Mearsheimer makes a lot of sense to me. His work is easy to follow and his ability to communicate to an audience unparalleled. But when talking about the Korean Peninsula, he tends to leave a lot out.

Sould secured a 15% cap on tariffs but look closer, and the foundation crumbles. There is no signed agreement. No formal declaration. No U.S. legal record. And already, the two sides are offering conflicting interpretations of what, exactly, was agreed to.

Just yesterday, the head of the table said grace. He went beyond acknowledgement and thanks for the food to include a prayer for the strength and protection of the State of Israel. Before my first mouthful (and I eat real fast), a close friend raised her voice to say that we should all be praying for the Palestinian people.

Two pieces put out this week invited scorn. The first, “South Korea’s special envoys for… what exactly???”, used diplomatic tradition to criticize the sending of special envoys at the beginning of a presidential administration, invited praise from the right, and anger from the left. The second, “The challenges to Korean conservatism”, used American debates and local knowledge to criticize the ongoing failure to reform the conservative movement in Korea, invited praise from the left and anger from the right. I’m a born charmer.

Significance. The July 30 decision to impose punitive tariffs on Brazil—explicitly citing the criminal case against Jair Bolsonaro—establishes a precedent: the United States is willing to redefine legal accountability as a threat to its economic and strategic interests.

South Korean and American political conservatism may wear the same suits and speak the same buzzwords—freedom, security, tradition—but they are fundamentally different beasts.

Lowly schmuck academics like yours truly, unfortunate enough to still be in Seoul at summertime are often invited by public officials to standard fare lunchtime sessions of questioning and soul-searching.