Stereotypes in Media: The COVID-19 Pandemic Inflames Troubling Discourse on Joseonjok
"Only Joseonjok live here. Many stabbings happen at night. There are many ruthless illegals the cops won’t even touch. I wouldn’t recommend walking around at night."
These ominous words from the Korean blockbuster film Midnight Runners are not just a cab driver's cliche. They underscore a deeply unsettling trend that has gained momentum in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Data collected from MLBPARK, an online baseball fan community frequented predominantly by young and middle-aged men, shows that the usage of the word "Joseonjok" skyrocketed nearly fivefold in 2020, presumably due to the COVID-19 outbreak. This was followed by a slight drop in 2021, but by 2022 the volume of vitriol had returned to levels similar to those in 2020, around 3,500 instances.
Defined as Chinese of Korean descent and recognized as one of China's 55 ethnic minority groups, "Joseonjok" is not historically a derogatory term despite its current disparaging usage. Derived from Joseon, Korea’s last dynasty, and "jok," meaning ethnic group, the word is increasingly transformed in online comments and social media as an attempt to degrade and devalue opposing views.
Before "Joseonjok," Korean-Chinese were often referred to as Chinese "Dongpo," which literally means brood of siblings — a unifying term also used to refer to Korean expatriates collectively. However, in recent years "Dongpo" has largely been replaced by "Joseonjok," as illustrated in the chart above. The new slang removes the familial inclusivity and intimacy that’s so apparent in the former term.
As 'Chinese of Korean descent,' Joseonjok are one of the largest ethnic minorities living in Korea today. Since the Covid outbreak the term is increasingly used as a slur, a trend raising unsettling questions about the perpetuation of stereotypes in South Korean media.
"China Gate"
As anti-China sentiment soared during the early months of Covid, an anonymous user on the notorious far-right forum Ilbe (think 4chan) claimed that Korean-Chinese were part of an organized effort with mainland Chinese to manipulate public opinion through pro-China comments online. Such claims came to be known as "China Gate," making headlines and quickly gaining traction in conservative news outlets.
Tech companies operating independent news platforms disproved these accusations. South Korea’s largest search engine Naver (sometimes dubbed the “Korean Google”) released records showing that Chinese IP addresses accounted for just 0.5% of internet traffic. Nevertheless, South Korea’s conservative United Future Party ran with the false claims, stoking anger toward ethnic Chinese and even filing a criminal complaint. Yet more than 3 years later, their “China Gate” investigation has found no evidence supporting their claims, and the full report remains unpublished.
The Most Visible Immigrants in an Insular Society
Scholars often point out that biases and discrimination in Korea operate differently compared to other societies. Some argue that Korea’s historical adoption of Western Orientalist views, which emphasized materialism and racial hierarchies, may explain why some Koreans perceive China as unrefined or uncivilized. However, this does not fully explain why Joseonjok, in particular, is utilized in its new manner.
Another explanation is that Korean-Chinese are the largest migrant population in South Korea, and thus they are the most visible "outsiders" in a society where racism is rarely recognized.
For decades, migrants were nearly invisible in Korea, primarily working in city factories or on rural farms. They took labor-intensive, low-wage jobs that other Koreans avoided. The minority effectively remained out-of-sight, out-of-mind.
But Korean-Chinese migrants disrupted this pattern, taking advantage of their Korean language fluency and entering fields such as hospitality and nursing. Their new livelihoods feature more interaction with native Koreans.
As of last year, foreign residents make up just 4.37% of South Korea's population: yet nearly 4 in 10 of these are ethnically Chinese. The low percentage of foreign nationals overall highlights just how insular Korean society remains, yet of that small share the Korean-Chinese are the most visible, and the most likely to be stereotyped.
Arts Reinforce Misconceptions about Joseonjok
In the 2010s, South Korea experienced a cultural renaissance, emerging as a global powerhouse with K-Pop, K-Dramas, trendsetting fashion, and acclaimed films. But in the swell of success, the film industry has faced rising criticism for insensitive portrayals of immigrants.
For years the Joseonjok have borne the weight of damaging stereotypes propagated in media, despite such stereotypes lacking any substantial support from data. This misrepresentation has been a disconcerting undercurrent for years, pushing the term "Joseonjok" from being a mere descriptor to its new status as an emerging ethnic slur.
In 2017, a group of Joseonjok immigrants collectively called for the suspension of the film Midnight Runners, arguing it fueled hatred and heightened tensions between native Koreans and ethnic Chinese.
The movie is a buddy cop film set in Daelim-dong, a neighborhood associated with Korean-Chinese migrants. It portrays Joseonjok characters committing heinous crimes even the local police could not control.
This one-dimensional portrayal, devoid of nuance and context, has far-reaching implications, perpetuating an atmosphere of distrust and fear. The reality, however, is that the Joseonjok minority has a much lower crime rate than the Korean population as a whole.
According to the National Police Agency’s 2022 Crime Statistics, the crime rate among Chinese in Korea was 1.2%. The violent crime rate was even smaller at just 1.17%, a figure disproportionately low given the population share.
The consequences of these unwarranted portrayals are profound, extending beyond the virtual realm. They influence real-world interactions, amplify prejudices, and have a tangible impact on the lives of the Joseonjok community, both in South Korea and beyond.
Korea’s filmmakers have noted the critique with concern, but their response remains ambivalent. “In society, minorities often get caught up in negative perceptions — the same happens in the United States. In Korea, people from that part of the world often commit violent crimes, which is why Korean movies reflect such narratives,” said Kwak Kyung-taek, whose 2017 film Resurrected Victims depicted a Joseonjok character as a killer. “As a storyteller, I had no choice. A movie has to be plausible, and thinking too much about these issues can hinder that. But I do have sympathy for Korean-Japanese, Korean-Chinese, and others.” He added, “If I get the chance to tell their stories someday, I’ll do it right.”