[Gangnam Perspective] The Dawn of K-Technology

In the spring of 1966, at a time when “technical trades” basically meant carpenters and plasterers, the country’s first national science and technology research institute, the Korea Institute of Science and Technology (KIST), opened its doors. Among the figures from that era whom later generations should remember, one of the first to be named is Choi Hyung-sup, an engineer with a Ph.D. from the United States. Because there was no money to open a proper office, he moved from place to place, and the makeshift location he finally secured was a rented room on the second floor of a Hanil Bank building in Cheonggyecheon 6-ga in Seoul. In that cramped office of about 33 square meters (roughly 350 square feet), the entire staff consisted of three people: Choi Hyung-sup, appointed as the first director, a civil servant dispatched from the Economic Planning Board, and a young assistant.
Outwardly it looked shabby, but what was happening inside was anything but. A year earlier, President Park Chung Hee had visited the United States at the invitation of President Lyndon B. Johnson. As a reward for South Korea’s dispatch of troops to South Vietnam, the United States promised large-scale economic aid. According to the recollections of the Korean ambassador who was involved in the talks, President Johnson then proposed an additional surprise for Korea: a plan to establish an engineering college. But President Park immediately shook his head, as if he had been waiting for this moment. He countered that what Korea needed even more urgently was a technology research institute, and asked that this be made possible instead.
The following month, Donald Hornig, President Johnson’s science adviser, came to Korea. His visit was to determine whether the Korean president’s request was realistic and what kind of institution was being envisioned. The person who met with Hornig was Director Choi. In that meeting, Choi clearly laid out the institute’s purpose and vision. He said, "A noble research institute that spends huge sums to study everything from basic science is not suited to us. We need a hard-nosed, contract-based research institute, almost like a business operation, that will focus on projects capable of lifting our country out of poverty." (Choi Hyung-sup’s memoir, "A Laboratory Where the Lights Never Go Out")
In other words, technology had to be connected to the field, the state had to provide full support for research, and scientists had to stand on the front lines of problem-solving. This was the identity of Korea’s first national science and technology research institute. Three years later, after leaving the temporary quarters in Cheonggyecheon and moving to Hongneung, a headhunting drive on the scale of a national project began. Donald Hornig and the Battelle Memorial Institute offered remote support. They drew up a list of Korean scientists and engineers around the world, explained the purpose behind establishing the institute, and urged them to apply. For the carefully selected candidates, Choi Hyung-sup personally traveled around to win them over. The scenes from those recruitment efforts are still moving to recall. "If your goal is a Nobel Prize, you may stay where you are. If not, then come with us to rebuild our homeland." Eighteen scientists answered that call. The dawn of K-technology was lit in this way.
The Hongneung institute was where the blueprint for Korea’s industrialization miracle was drawn. It was here that the plan for Pohang Iron and Steel—now POSCO—was drafted, driven by the determination to "rebuild the nation through steelmaking." Kim Jae-gwan, one of the original group of 18 who returned to Korea, sketched out the basic design for POSCO. Development plans for shipbuilding, heavy industry, electronics, and machinery were also formulated there. One oft-told anecdote concerns Hyundai Group founder Chung Ju-yung, who, after seeing the institute’s feasibility data on building a shipyard, replied, "How different can an apartment building be from a shipyard? Let’s give it a try." The story is still retold to this day.
During the era of technological takeoff, companies looked to Hongneung. At a time when lights went out across the country at night, the forest of Hongneung was an exception. Under the lights of a laboratory that never slept, new production processes were developed and the toughest problems facing industry were solved. The urgency felt by the state and by companies was directly reflected in the long hours spent in those labs.
Korea’s industrialization miracle was the product of a powerful combination: shrewd bureaucrats who treated technology as a national project, scientists with iron will, and indomitable entrepreneurs. To secure the technologies essential for a poor country’s survival, the state, research institutes, and companies pushed forward together until they finally had them in hand. Today’s legends in shipbuilding, heavy industry, semiconductors, automobiles, and batteries all trace their roots back to that shabby little room of about 33 square meters in Cheonggyecheon 60 years ago.
Now a new landscape is taking shape around Artificial Intelligence (AI). The formula for success will not be so different. The path to becoming an AI powerhouse lies in the state, technical talent, and companies pulling together. At such a critical moment, the ruling party’s idea of taking a private-sector expert—recruited by the government as an architect of the nation’s AI future—and turning that person into a candidate in a local by-election is remarkably backward-looking. If this idea becomes reality, the sincerity of the government’s policy commitment will inevitably be called into question.
jins@fnnews.com Reporter