SNU QUILL

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Korea’s Stablecoin Dilemma: Innovation, Risks, and the Future of the Digital Won

In July 2025, the United States passed the GENIUS Act, finally setting clear rules for stablecoins. The law was designed to make digital money safer to use, signaling that stablecoins have become a part of the official financial system. The discussions didn’t stop in the US; several other countries joined in, introducing their own version of stablecoins. Now South Korea is riding the wave. After President Lee Jae Myung took office, his administration began pushing forward the discussion on Korean won-based stablecoins—one of his key campaign pledges. The government argues that the “digital won” could spark financial evolution and strengthen the power of Korean currency. But not everyone agrees. The Bank of Korea (BOK) openly expressed concern, warning that private entities issuing stablecoins could weaken monetary controls and threaten financial stability. Between the government’s optimism and the central bank’s caution, South Korea’s stablecoin debate has become one of the most important economic issues of the year. For most people, it may sound too distant to be of concern. But the digital won, if introduced, could change how we save, spend, and move money—possibly faster than we expect. Will won-based stablecoin really give more power to the Korean won? How will it change our daily lives? What is Stablecoin? A stablecoin is a type of digital currency designed to stay constant in value. Unlike cryptocurrencies such as Bitcoin, whose prices rise and fall dramatically, stablecoins are tied to real-world assets like the US dollar, gold, or even the Korean won. For example, if one stablecoin is tied to one dollar, its value should always remain one dollar. The key difference between stablecoins and central bank digital currencies (CBDCs) lies in who issues them. CBDCs are issued and controlled by a nation’s central bank, while stablecoins are created by private companies. This distinction is crucial, as it determines whether monetary control rests with the government or the market. So how do they work? Stablecoins are built on blockchain technology, the same system used by cryptocurrencies. Every transaction is recorded by a public ledger, which makes transfers transparent, fast, and accessible without a bank. Most stablecoins maintain their price by holding real assets like dollars or bonds in reserve. When a user buys a stablecoin, the issuer deposits the equivalent amount of real money to back it up. Beyond theory, stablecoins are widely used during cryptocurrency exchanges as a bridge between cash and digital money. Investors often convert their real-world money into stablecoins such as the US dollar stablecoin by Tether (USDT) before purchasing cryptocurrency such as Bitcoin. This is because stablecoins move faster and cost less to transfer than traditional currencies. As such, stablecoins have become the default currency of the crypto world. Stablecoins are driving financial innovation, expanding far beyond trading. In e-commerce, companies like PayPal now let users directly pay for goods and services with stablecoins. In countries struggling with high inflation, such as Argentina, people increasingly hold USD-based stablecoins to protect their savings from rapid currency devaluation. They are also becoming popular choices for international remittances. In the past, sending money overseas could take several days, as transactions had to pass through multiple banks and were processed only during business hours in both countries. With stablecoins, transfers can be completed within minutes, anytime and anywhere, without waiting for banks to open. In short, stablecoins are quietly weaving themselves into everyday financial life around the world. Government Ambition vs. Central Bank Caution In Korea, the debate over stablecoins goes far beyond their utility—a question not of if but of how adoption will occur. Recently, the Financial Service Commission (FSC) has announced plans to submit a second phase digital asset bill by the end of 2025, making the introduction of a won-based stablecoin more than just a theoretical possibility. The government and the FSC are pushing for a fast rollout, including granting issuance rights to non-bank companies. Meanwhile, the Bank of Korea (BOK) has taken a cautious stance, warning that stablecoins must be introduced via a slower and controlled approach. The current administration believes that a won-based stablecoin can offer three major benefits. For one, it could reinforce monetary sovereignty by keeping the won relevant in an increasingly USD-denominated digital economy. Beyond that, stablecoins could modernize Korea’s payment infrastructure through programmable features, which can move money automatically when preset conditions are met. This can ensure faster and cheaper cross-border transfers. Finally, allowing non-bank players to issue stablecoins could broaden the financial ecosystem by giving these firms new revenue sources and enabling swifter experimentation than traditional banks. The BOK, however, has responded with a word of warning. Governor Rhee Chang-yong argued that the real question is not whether stablecoins are innovative, but whether they could undermine the foundations of Korea’s monetary and financial stability. One concern is that allowing non-bank entities to issue money-like instruments could weaken monetary policy. Unlike banks, which can adjust reserves in line with policy changes, non-bank issuers would need to sell large amounts of their assets during redemptions. Such forced sales could destabilize markets and reduce the effectiveness of rate-based monetary tightening. The BOK is also worried about capital flight. If won-based stablecoins are bought or traded on overseas exchanges, they could function as an unregulated “offshore won,” bypassing Korea’s capital controls. This would make it harder for the central bank to monitor capital movements and could amplify volatility during periods of market stress. A further risk is that stablecoins rely entirely on the safety of their reserve assets and the credibility of the issuer. When either becomes uncertain, their prices can deviate from the value they are supposed to track. Even major USD-based stablecoins like USDT and USDC have briefly fallen below one dollar during periods of market stress. These vulnerabilities also make stablecoins susceptible to “coin runs,” or rapid waves of redemptions that force issuers to liquidate large amounts of reserve assets at once. Such sudden selling can destabilize markets and accelerate the loss of confidence. If a won-based stablecoin were to ever lose its value, the shock would directly affect households and domestic markets, eroding trust in Korea’s financial system. Nearly 30% of experts surveyed by the Korean Economic Association (KEA) question whether a won-based stablecoin is necessary at all. Even if innovation is crucial in a digital-currency era, is a won-based stablecoin a tool Korea truly needs? Many of the capabilities highlighted by supporters, such as programmable features or automated settlement, are not unique to private tokens. In fact, Korea is already among the global leaders in CBDC development. Through the Han River Project, the central bank has successfully tested programmable transfers, offline payments, and advanced settlement functions—suggesting that much of the technological efficiency attributed to stablecoins could also be achieved within a public, bank-led system. There is also the issue of scale. The global stablecoin market is overwhelmingly dominated by USD-denominated tokens, which account for about 99.7% of total issuance. Even the euro, a major reserve currency, represents only around 0.2%. If demand is ultimately driven by the underlying currency’s global use, it is unclear whether a won-based stablecoin could meaningfully challenge the dominance of USD-based tokens. Trust is another unresolved concern. Stablecoins issued by non-bank entities would sit outside the traditional deposit-insurance framework and lack the safeguards that banks provide. It is uncertain whether such privately issued tokens would earn the same level of public confidence, especially when money is tied directly to national economic policy. Korea’s longstanding principle of separating banking from commerce exists for a reason: to prevent private actors from wielding excessive influence over the creation of money-like instruments. For these reasons, a cautious approach remains essential. With so much uncertainty surrounding demand for a won-based stablecoin, and with CBDC technology already capable of delivering many of the same benefits, it may be wiser to advance gradually, ensuring that any new form of money is introduced under the strongest possible safeguards. In the end, money is only as strong as the trust behind it. The Digital Won and Us As policymakers debate how to shape Korea’s digital future, many may wonder how a won-based stablecoin would benefit everyday life. For most Koreans, its introduction would likely not bring dramatic changes overnight. Korea’s payment system is already fast and inexpensive, and the everyday experience of using a won-based stablecoin may feel no different from KakaoPay. Still, changes beneath the surface could matter. A stablecoin could quietly reshape how money moves through the financial system, lowering hidden infrastructure costs and altering how capital flows across borders—effects that may be subtle for individuals but remarkable for the economy as a whole. Yet the seemingly subtle change for individuals does not make the decision any easier. While stablecoins promise efficiency, their risks persist. At the same time, Korea’s CBDC research shows that many programmable functions can already be achieved within the existing public payment architecture. This does not make stablecoins irrelevant; rather, it sharpens the real question: whether Korea can capture the cross-border and on-chain advantages of a won-based stablecoin without weakening monetary control or financial stability through robust, enforceable safeguards. Even with global momentum building around stablecoins, Korea must ask if it makes sense to follow that trend simply because other countries are moving quickly. The potential benefits of a won-based stablecoin are real, but they do not outweigh the unresolved structural risks and cannot justify a rapid rollout. Korea should continue advancing digital-currency innovation, but through mechanisms that safeguard public trust—beginning with bank-led issuance and expanding only when sufficiently robust protections are in place. In a time of digital transformation, moving fast may feel urgent, but for something as foundational as money, moving wisely matters far more.

[84th Edition] Letter from the Editor

Dear readers, Another semester. Another edition complete. To speak candidly, it would be dishonest to gloss over the trepidation I felt in stepping into the role of Editor-in-Chief. The weight of stewardship loomed large: I wanted to do well and to carry on the good work of those who had come before me. As anticipated, the first few months were marked by nervous jitters. Yet wading past that initial flurry, the unease softened. From then on, the latter half of my term has been nothing short of wondrous. I have tried to savor each present moment, though time—as it so characteristically does—has insisted on slipping through my fingers. In many ways, my own journey mirrors The SNU Quill’s over the past year. The challenges that grazed our 83rd edition did not end with the printing of its crisp pages. Some carried into the 84th; others arose unexpectedly, beyond our control. At times, that uncertainty manifested as overt friction, with direct tests to our autonomy as a publication. The obstacles were not insignificant, yet, dear readers, we did not shrink. If anything, they sharpened our resolve and reminded us of what we too easily take for granted. So, what began in uncertainty gradually gave way to steadier footing, reaffirming our commitment to journalistic integrity and to serving as the voice of—and for—the SNU community. With a renewed clarity, it feels most fitting, then, that this edition turns to the theme of projection. If resonance implored us to look inward, to dwell and reflect, projection urges us to reach outward. It asks how our beliefs are cast onto the world around us, how aspirations take shape beyond ourselves, and how a single guiding thought can illuminate uncertain paths, a beam cutting through the haze of precarity. With the 83rd edition, we sought counsel from the past. Projection now turns that gaze ahead—toward the future Quill aspires to inhabit and the voices that will carry it forward. Thus, as you move through this edition, you will encounter projection in its varied forms. Against the backdrop of campus life, SNU Society probes the values extended upon the spaces we inhabit daily. We trace how the architectural traditions of each college subtly mold student identity; yet it is ultimately students themselves who breathe life into those stoic planes of concrete and glass. We linger over our lackluster campus dining, questioning what its shortcomings reveal about institutional priorities. And we confront SNU’s fiercely competitive, at times gladiatorial, club culture—a restless striving for belonging beneath the shadow of prestige and the palpable fear of exclusion. In Features, our scope broadens to encompass Korea and the world beyond. Closer to home, we examine the country’s politicized pulpit, where conservative ideology is draped in the robes of sacred authority, and the adoption of stablecoin, riding the swelling tide of digital currencies. Amidst a world in turmoil, we turn to the fragile standing of international law, questioning how Korea is implicated in crises that may seem distant, but are anything but. And finally, Arts & Culture precisely renders projections sweeping across culture at large: the juggernaut of K-baseball and its attunement to the sensibilities of the Korean people; the insidious grip of pseudo-gambling, swiftly dismissed yet no less potent in its pull; and the rise of AI psychosis, a compulsion to seek intimacy where none can truly exist. In the end, projection is both a lens and a mirror. It casts our beliefs and aspirations into the world, while reflecting the truths we carry within. As you turn these pages, dear readers, remember: looking outward is only part of the act. In shaping what we project, we carve the world around us, in ways both big and small. So as you explore this edition, ponder the questions posed and the ideas laid bare—and I trust you will enjoy the view. Sincerely yours, Lee Hee Seo

Is Korea’s Baseball League Throwing Curveballs?

Have you heard of the name Kim Doyoung? Even if you haven’t, you’ve almost certainly seen him stamped across the backs of South Korean baseball fans of every age and background. Kim, the breakout star of the KIA Tigers, shattered records in 2024 by earning 10 billion Korean won (approximately 7 million USD) from uniform sales alone. That’s half of the team’s total merchandise revenue. If you walk anywhere in Korea, you will see jerseys—especially his—everywhere. But Kim is only the most visible symbol of a much larger trend. As it stands, the Korean Baseball Organization (KBO) has drawn over 12 million fans during the 2025 season. The league also maintains a rigorous eight-month schedule with games six days a week. This scale and consistency have allowed baseball to fit seamlessly into the rhythms of everyday life: family outings, date nights, or something to watch on a long subway ride home. Though the sport has deep roots in Korea, its current boom is unprecedented; tickets, merch, and even small baseball-themed goods are selling at record speed. With this surge, many are beginning to wonder how Korean baseball will continue to evolve. To evaluate its future path, we must start from the beginning. Compare it to the past: How has baseball changed through the ages to fit its host country? What makes it so unique, so “Korean?” And is this “Korean” change necessarily good? First Base: An American Hit-and-Run To understand the cultural significance of baseball in Korea and the ways the nation has shaped the sport, we must begin with its introduction in 1905 by American missionaries. During the Japanese colonial period of 1910 to 1945, baseball failed to gain widespread popularity due to its association with pro-Japanese sentiments and nobility. Nevertheless, the sport gradually became a part of everyday life. The Korean Baseball Organization (KBO) and its league were founded in 1982, launched by then-president Chun Doo-hwan to divert public attention away from politics. Despite its questionable origins, the baseball league soon developed into a major sporting attraction. Over the following decades, it expanded as new teams joined, while the sport also began to take firmer root at the high school and collegiate levels, further increasing its accessibility nationwide. By 2015, the KBO League had expanded from its original six teams to ten. Although the league retains many elements of its American foundations, such as roster sizes and championship structures, it has also developed a distinct identity. A closer comparison reveals that Korean baseball has gradually stepped out from the shadow of its predecessors to become the unique phenomenon that is seen today. Second Base: A K-Pop Change-Up Today, the KBO and Korean baseball have become quite closely tied to various aspects of contemporary Korean culture, particularly K-Pop. For instance, one of the sport’s most distinctive features is its chants. Every batter has their very own walk-up song and cheer, led by at-bat music and a cheer captain accompanied by cheerleaders. Fans gather in the eungwon-seok (응원석), or “cheer seats,” standing, dancing, and shouting in unison whenever their team bats. The popularity of these cheers has driven innovations such as thundersticks in 1994, paired sticks that fans strike together to produce loud, rhythmic noise in sync with the beat. Cheerleaders are also a big contributor to this spectacle. Unlike their American counterparts, Korean cheerleaders perform on stages, orchestrating elaborate dance routines and “reaction dances” to energize the crowd. As a result, baseball in Korea has become a highly performative sport, featuring flashy visual displays that rival—if not overshadow—the game itself. In fact, the similarities to K-Pop are so pronounced that many K-Pop fans are drawn to the sport. The ways spectators are encouraged to express their dedication, through choreographed cheers and extensive merchandise collection, closely resemble the behavior of idol fandoms. As a result, one of the primary criticisms of KBO is that it no longer represents an “authentic” sporting experience in the way that the MLB does. This shift is particularly contentious among the middle-aged, long-time supporters, many of whom dislike the newer, younger, and more casual fanbase. Critics argue that this emphasis on spectacle and entertainment comes at the expense of athletic competition, ultimately alienating traditional fans from engaging. Third Base: A Marketing Bunt This shift extends to market control through mass commercialization. While the commercialization of sports is nothing new, Korean baseball is where this transformation becomes most visible—and most controversial. Korea’s baseball market targets two specific demographics: age and gender. In the 1970s and 80s, the typical fan was a middle-aged man stopping by the stadium after work. Today, the core audience has shifted to young women in their late teens and twenties, prompting the marketing to pivot accordingly. This can be primarily perceived in the explosion of baseball uniforms. In the US, MLB uniforms are typically released only for special events. In contrast, Korea releases numerous collector versions, from Military Day designs to collaborations like the Doosan Bears x Manggom uniform. These uniforms function as markers of fan loyalty, driving their immense popularity. Beyond the traditional hat and uniform, Korean baseball merchandise also includes keychains, backpacks, jumpers, socks, and other fashion-oriented items. Baseball has become not just a sport to watch, but a space to display identity, collect limited editions, and signal devotion. Increasingly, competition plays out in the marketplace and not on the field. How collectible are the uniforms? How unique is the merchandise? How can someone show off their dedication to a specific team, beyond just watching the game? Furthermore, Korean baseball players themselves are increasingly marketed like idols, the direct effect of the league’s growing female fanbase. One major example of this is Moon Dong-ju, a 21-year-old Hanwha Eagles pitcher who appeared in an Olive Young advertisement. The campaign featured photocard gifts and cute poses reminiscent of K-Pop promotions. Although an effective revenue strategy, baseball critics argue that this idol-style marketing commodifies athletes, encouraging fans to admire their appearance and personality rather than their prowess on the field. In this sense, those like Moon Dong-ju become faces to “stan,” collect, and swoon over—another indication of how far the KBO has drifted toward celebrity culture. Home Run: Korea’s Payoff Pitch It is true that Korean baseball, as it currently stands, offers a fascinating look into how the country absorbs foreign influences and makes them its own. Imported from the US, the sport has transformed into a cultural hybrid, complete with coordinated cheers, rhythmic chants, and a sense of collective identity that feels unmistakably Korean. Yet there’s another side to this gleaming grandstand. The very theatricalization and commercialization that make Korean baseball so appealing arguably also erode its athletic spirit. Stadiums now resemble concert arenas, and players are idolized more for their image and celebrity than their skills. Critics often point to the rise of “fashion fans,” whose allegiance follows trends rather than the sport itself. Corporate ownership further amplifies this shift. Unlike US teams such as the New York Yankees, which operate with multiple investors and relative independence, Korean teams are often wholly controlled by single conglomerates—Lotte Giants by Lotte, KT Wiz by KT. Economic leaders—not baseball specialists—make the calls, prioritizing profit over pure athletic values. In this environment, the love of the game increasingly shares the spotlight with the lure of commerce. As monetization continues to shape the sport, who knows how much further the baseball scene will drift from its foundation as a game driven by passion? Ultimately, Korea’s baseball scene is at a crossroads. Its future depends on whether it can maintain the delicate balance between sport and spectacle, tradition and reinvention. The sustained tension between tradition and reinvention feels distinctly Korean. As such, this dynamic must be carefully managed to preserve the best of both worlds—the very force that has fueled baseball’s unprecedented popularity. Once a symbol of American influence, baseball in Korea has become a mirror of the nation’s culture and trajectory. Korea is a society that both greatly influences and is influenced, and never hesitates to swing even when the pitch is unexpected.

FEATURES

Driving Korea’s Future? AI Behind the Wheel and What It Means For Us

SNU SOCIETY

A Closer Look at the “Inclusive” International Life at SNU

ARTS & CULTURES

The Modern Lion King Tries to Convince You that Fascism Doesn’t Exist

OPINION

[83rd Edition] Letter from the Editor

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