We are pleased to share that Jihui Seong (MA '25 East Asian Studies) is the recipient of the 14th annual Korea Program Prize for Writing in Korean Studies, for her thesis "A Truce Built on Tension: The Korean War Armistice Negotiations and the Strategic Divergence Between Allies."

Advisor Daniel Sneider, Lecturer in East Asian Studies, notes that "Ms. Seong carried out extensive archival research at the National Archives in Washington, as well as digital archives of U.S. diplomatic and other records. She did similar research in the archives of the Republic of Korea. Ms. Seong read deeply into the secondary literature on this period of history...and consulted the memoirs of key figures, including Korean language memoirs.... The result of this research was a remarkably well-written and insightful thesis, one which genuinely breaks ground in its detailed research, analytical framing and persuasive argument. The conclusion has additional power in taking the thesis research and applying its conclusions and lessons to current alliance relations."

Reflecting on her thesis, Seong notes: "My thesis explores the Korean War armistice negotiations (1951–1953), with a focus on the deep strategic and political divergences between the United States and the Republic of Korea. While the two nations were de facto allies under the UN Command, they held fundamentally different visions for Korea’s future. Drawing from extensive archival research—including diplomatic cables, negotiation transcripts, and U.S. policy documents—I analyze how President Syngman Rhee’s opposition to a ceasefire clashed with Washington’s desire to end the war through limited settlement, leading to recurring tensions, threats of alliance rupture, and backchannel bargaining. The paper highlights that these conflicts were not merely tactical disagreements, but expressions of diverging national priorities, domestic political constraints, and fundamentally different perceptions of sovereignty and security. Ultimately, I argue that the Korean War armistice was not simply the cessation of hostilities between adversaries, but rather a fragile truce built through uneasy compromise forged through internal struggle between wartime partners—one that shaped the foundations of today’s East Asian geopolitical order and the enduring complexities of U.S.–ROK alliance management."

Sponsored by the Korea Program and the Center for East Asian Studies, the writing prize recognizes and rewards outstanding examples of writing by Stanford students in an essay, term paper, or thesis produced during the current academic year in any discipline within the area of Korean studies, broadly defined. The competition is open to both undergraduate and graduate students.

Past Recipients:

13th Annual Prize Co-recipients (2024)
12th Annual Prize (2023)
11th Annual Prize (2022)
10th Annual Prize (2021)
9th Annual Prize (2020)
8th Annual Prize (2019)
7th Annual Prize (2018)
6th Annual Prize (2017)
5th Annual Prize (2016)
4th Annual Prize (2015)
3rd Annual Prize (2014)
2nd Annual Prize (2013)
1st Annual Prize (2012)

Childhood weekends spent with my grandparents in New Jersey were like attending a school of all things Korean—not only of the language but of the culture and traditions. I learned to bow in my hanbok on New Year’s day, to shout “fighting” as a word of encouragement, and to eat ssam (Korean barbecue in lettuce wraps) in just one bite. Harabeoji (Grandpa) and Halmeoni (Grandma) had opened an early window into Korea for me, but their absence for the last five years left my deepening interest in and growing questions about my heritage and Korean history largely unexplored and unanswered. And although Harabeoji had left us The Bai Family book, memorializing his and our family’s stories, I have been unable to read beyond the first few chapters. I told myself that the English translation could not really capture his voice, but actually, I was too emotionally overwhelmed as I learned about his painful life under Japanese rule, as an impoverished refugee in what is now South Korea, and as a strange foreigner in America.

While searching for ways to learn more about Korea and the historical forces behind the traumatic events that shaped my grandparents’ lives and our family’s journey, I came across the Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP), which seemed to magically check the boxes of what I had set out to learn.

For over four months, I was able to indulge in SKSP’s countless offerings—live online lectures from renowned professors and experts in the field, informative weekly readings of primary and secondary sources, lively discussions with an engaged peer group, our active virtual discussion board, and of course the supportive guidance of Dr. HyoJung Jang, the instructor of SKSP. We explored and appreciated Korea’s achievements, such as King Sejong’s invention of the Hangul writing system, which made literacy accessible to the general population, and the invention of a metal printing type more than a hundred years before Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press. We also delved deeply into understanding Korea’s historical identity as a “Hermit Kingdom” and the factors behind its long-held isolationist policies. We even read about the famous turtle ships used to successfully fend off Japanese encroachment. (I had always wondered about my grandpa’s small models of those ships.) And though painful, we also learned about the layered history of the Japanese occupation, including the period of cultural rule that my grandpa was subjected to in his youth.

The highlight of SKSP for me was the research paper. When Dr. Jang encouraged us to find a topic we were deeply interested in, I chose to explore the enduring power and resilience of Korean nationalism. Despite some initial struggles to define and frame my argument, with the readings and lecture on nationalism by Professor Gi-Wook Shin and Dr. Jang’s constructive feedback and supportive encouragement, I was able to think critically and write persuasively. Dr. Jang also pointed me to areas beyond the SKSP curriculum such as Korean sociology studies, which helped me to focus on the aspects of Korean nationalism related to ethnic solidarity and sense of civic duty.

SKSP provided a historical lens for me to be able to read Harabeoji’s words and understand the broader context of his personal stories. Now, as I continue to build upon my historical knowledge, Korean language skills, and even cooking, I will always carry with me the skills and knowledge I attained in SKSP—a truly immersive experience I believe any student will find rewarding.

SKSP is currently accepting applications for the 2026 course. Apply at https://spicestanford.smapply.io/prog/sejong_korea_scholars_program/. The application deadline is November 1, 2025.

SKSP is one of several online courses offered by SPICE.

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Three of SPICE’s online programs for U.S. high school students have begun accepting applications for the spring 2026 academic term. The Reischauer Scholars Program (RSP) and the Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP) welcome applications from high school sophomores, juniors, and seniors in the United States. U.S.–China Co-Lab on Climate Solutions brings together 10th–12th graders from the United States and China in the same program to collaborate on solutions to the global climate crisis.

The RSP engages students in an intensive study of Japan and the U.S.–Japan relationship, facilitating discussions with scholars, diplomats, and other guest speakers with personal and professional expertise in Japanese culture, society, and U.S.–Japan relations. The 2026 RSP course dates are February 1 to June 14. The application deadline is October 17, 2025.

The SKSP provides students an enriching and academically rigorous overview of Korean history and U.S.–Korea relations through online lectures with top scholars and experts and engaging student discussions. The 2026 SKSP course will run February through early June. The application deadline is November 1, 2025.

The U.S.–China Co-Lab program focuses specifically on climate-related issues and U.S.–China cooperation, past and potential, and strategies for global cooperation. High school students from the U.S. and China will get to know each other’s lives and environments and actively work together on projects to develop their expertise on local, bilateral, and global climate action. This is a joint program of SPICE’s Stanford e-China (for students in China) and China Scholars Program (for U.S. students). The spring 2026 Co-Lab course dates are February 27 to May 22. The application deadline for U.S. students is November 1, 2025.

Students who are interested in applying to more than one program may do so and rank their preferences on their applications. Those who are accepted into multiple programs for spring 2026 will be invited to enroll in their highest-preference course.

Applications for all three programs can be found at https://spicestanford.smapply.io/. Deadlines vary:

• Reischauer Scholars Program: October 17
• Sejong Korea Scholars Program: November 1
• U.S.–China Co-Lab on Climate Solutions: November 1

For more information on a specific online course, please refer to its individual webpage.

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To learn more about SPICE’s student programs, visit our Student Programs page.

We are pleased to share the publication of a new volume, Cold War Refugees: Connected Histories of Displacement and Migration across Postcolonial Asia, edited by the Korea Program's Yumi Moon, associate professor in Stanford's Department of History.

The book, now available from Stanford University Press, revisits Cold War history by examining the identities, cultures, and agendas of the many refugees forced to flee their homes across East, Southeast, and South Asia due to the great power conflict between the US and the USSR. Moon's book draws on multilingual archival sources and presents these displaced peoples as historical actors in their own right, not mere subjects of government actions. Exploring the local, regional, and global contexts of displacement through five cases —Taiwan, Vietnam, Korea, Afghanistan, and Pakistan — this volume sheds new light on understudied aspects of Cold War history.

The book's chapters — written by Phi-Vân Nguyen, Dominic Meng-Hsuan Yang, Yumi Moon, Ijlal Muzaffar, Robert D. Crews, Sabauon Nasseri, and Aishwary Kumar — explore Vietnam's 1954 partition, refugees displaced from Zhejiang to Taiwan, North Korean refugees in South Korea from 1945–50, the Cold War legacy in Karachi, and Afghan refugees.

Purchase Cold War Refugees at www.sup.org and receive 20% off with the code MOON20.

I have two names. At school, my friends would call me over saying, “Hey Claire!” At home, I was “윤아야” or “Yuna,” my Korean name. I used to joke as a child that there were two separate versions of myself and I would “switch” between the two, going from Claire to Yuna and back again. As I grew older, I started hearing terms such as “Korean American,” “Asian American,” and gyopo (someone with Korean heritage but born outside of Korea). All of these labels sent my mind spiraling. I had always been either Claire or Yuna, so I had no idea how the two could coexist together.

Amidst this confusion, I applied for the Sejong Korea Scholars Program to explore my heritage and the country I’ve had such a complex relationship with. Each unit, my classmates and I analyzed textbook excerpts to news articles, sharing our thoughts through written assignments and discussion boards. We concluded with an end-of-unit virtual classroom, featuring expert historians and professors who generously shared their knowledge.

Spanning from the Joseon dynasty to post-colonial Korea to the Hallyu wave, this course took me on a journey throughout all chapters of Korean history. From the colonial independence movement to the post-war democratization protests, I continued to be in awe of the sheer grit and courage of the Korean people. As we delved deeper into modern Korean society by examining topics of education and nationalism, I was also able to contextualize my upbringing and the complexities of my Korean American identity.

Furthermore, the curriculum allowed us the freedom to lead our own learning. For my final paper, I analyzed the impacts of online feminist societies and gender violence on the prevalence of gender animosity in modern-day Korea. Taking this unique opportunity to explore my personal interests further fueled my passion for modern Korean history, social movements, as well as the ways the oppressed fight for a voice.

I would like to deeply thank Dr. HyoJung Jang for being an invaluable mentor throughout this course with her incredible expertise and dedication to learning for learning’s sake. I would also like to credit my talented classmates who inspired me with their insights and always pushed me to view the world from different perspectives.

This course challenged me in countless ways: as a learner, a Korean American, and a person. SKSP is a unique opportunity to learn with rigorous coursework and top-tier resources while exploring one’s own academic interests. I genuinely encourage students to apply, no matter their background, as anyone with a passion for knowledge will be wholeheartedly welcomed and rewarded.

SKSP has been pivotal in discovering my passion for East Asian and Korean studies, one that I wish to pursue both personally and in higher education. In terms of my personal journey, I am still navigating the complexities of my identity and will continue to do so throughout my life. But my SKSP experience has truly opened my eyes to all facets of my identity and their complex intersections. I know now that Claire and Yuna were never two separate people nor two separate parts of me. Rather, they are the ones who make each other whole. 

SKSP is one of several online courses offered by SPICE.

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As countries confront rising health care spending, policymakers everywhere face a key question: Who benefits from these spending increases?

Consider South Korea, a nation that has sharply increased its per capita health care spending over the past decade, delivering reasonable value in improving health outcomes as measured by rising life expectancy and a reduced overall disease burden. Yet, not all South Koreans reap equal rewards from the country’s health investments, according to a new study. Rather, adults in the lowest-income quintile receive the least health gains for every dollar spent on their care.

Published in the journal Health Affairs Scholar, the study reveals stark income-based disparities in the value of health care — defined as health gains relative to spending — among South Korean adults. The research systematically quantifies how efficiently health spending translates into longer, healthier lives across income groups in South Korea, providing insights into the distribution of health gains relative to health care spending.

“While earlier research often examined disparities in access, utilization, or outcomes separately, our analysis provides a more integrated assessment by jointly examining health care costs and health gains,” explains the research team, including Stanford health economist Karen Eggleston, the director of the Asia Health Policy Program (AHPP) at APARC. Eggleston’s co-authors are Sungchul Park, an associate professor in Korea University’s Department of Health Policy and Management and an incoming visiting scholar with AHPP; Young Kyung Do, a professor in Seoul National University’s Department of Health Policy and Management and AHPP’s inaugural postdoctoral fellow; and David Cutler, the Otto Eckstein Professor of Applied Economics at Harvard University. 

Their findings are sobering: between 2010 and 2018, South Korean adults in the lowest income quintile derived the least value from increased health spending compared to those in the middle- and higher income quintiles, suggesting a system that underserves the poorest population.

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Poorer Health, Smaller Gains

Between 2010 and 2019, per capita health care spending in Korea increased from $1,211 to $1,903, growing nearly 6 percent annually. During that decade, life expectancy climbed from 80.5 to 83.7 years, while disability-adjusted life years – expressed as the number of years lost due to ill-health – declined significantly. These measures seemingly suggest health spending has yielded solid returns in terms of improved health outcomes.

Yet stark income inequality persists in Korea. The country has both the highest old-age poverty rate and the largest share of out-of-pocket medical expenses among OECD countries. Does rising health spending benefit all segments of society equally?

To answer this question, the researchers analyzed trends in health spending and outcomes across income quintiles (excluding the bottom 10 percent of the household income distribution) from 2010 to 2018.

They measured health care spending as total medical expenditures, including costs for inpatient and outpatient services, emergency services, and prescription medications. All spending measures were adjusted for inflation and are reported in 2021 US dollars. To asses health outcomes, they used three indicators: (1) health-related quality of life, which relies on standard questionnaires to measure individuals’ perceived physical and mental health over time; (2) life expectancy, calculated using life table methods based on enrollment data from the national health insurance system; and (3) quality-adjusted life expectancy (QALE) at age 25, a measure that reflects both longevity and the quality of life during those years – an essential consideration when evaluating the effectiveness and equity of health care systems. To quantify the value of health care across income groups, the researchers applied statistical methods.

They found that adults in the lowest-income quintile experienced the smallest relative improvement in QALE over time: an increase of 0.7 years, compared with 1.4 years in the second and third quintiles, 1.3 years in the fourth, and 1.2 years in the highest quintile. Translated into a value estimate, adults in the lowest income quintile incurred $78,209 per QALE; in contrast, adults in the second through highest income quintiles achieved greater value estimates of $47,831, $46,905, $31,757, and $53,889, respectively. Thus, the most efficient gains in both longevity and quality of life were in the middle-income groups.

“We found that per capita spending was similar across income groups, but the lowest-income quintile experienced much smaller gains in QALE,” Eggleston and her collaborators write. 

Reflecting the principle of diminishing returns, “these findings highlight structural inequities in the South Korean health system and emphasize the need for targeted policies to promote equitable health care value.” 

Why Spending Does Not Equal Value

While the study did not identify causal pathways, secondary data suggest two plausible explanations for the results: poorer baseline health and greater unmet needs.

The data indicate that adults in the lowest-income quintile had significantly higher rates of chronic disease, disability, behavioral risk factors such as smoking and obesity rates, and mental health issues. These factors make it more difficult to achieve health gains.

Moreover, adults in the lowest-income quintile were less likely to receive preventive services, with markedly lower rates of medical checkups and cancer screenings. “Despite greater health needs, these adults faced persistent barriers to accessing care, particularly financial constraints,” the researchers say.

Notably, the highest value of health spending was not observed among adults in the highest-income group. One explanation is that this group may consume more low-value or marginally beneficial health services.

Policy Implications: Efficiency with Equity

Eggleston and her co-authors emphasize “the need for health policy in South Korea to prioritize both equity and value.” They highlight the following targeted strategies to improve efficiency and fairness:

• Invest in high-value services that link spending to meaningful health outcomes:
  • Improve access to high-value preventive and primary care services by expanding financial protections, particularly for lower-income groups.
  • Improve overall system efficiency by reducing the overuse of low-value health care services.
• Pair health care reform with broader social policies: Coordinate efforts to address upstream factors tied to health disparities, such as income inequality.
• Aim for improvements across the entire population: Implement evidence-based clinical appropriateness guidelines to ensure health care spending yields meaningful and equitable results.

While focused on South Korea, the study’s findings illuminate how income inequality interacts with health system designs and carry lessons for other countries.

“In countries with greater income inequality and fragmented health systems, such as the United States, disparities in health care value may be even more pronounced,” the co-authors write.

As South Korea and other countries continue to invest heavily in health care, the study highlights the urgency of improving the distribution and impact of that increased spending. Without focused reforms, it risks entrenching existing inequities rather than alleviating them.

I have always wished to learn more about Korea. Since I am only half Korean, my grandparents’ stories of Seoul made up the extent of my knowledge for much of my childhood. As I grew up and began to slot together my identity in a patchwork of personality and truths, my Korean identity simply did not fit. I could barely stomach the spice of bibimmyeon, my mother’s favorite Korean noodle dish. Wearing hanboks, the traditional Korean dress, never gave me the elegance my cousins seemed to embody. Speaking Korean didn’t come to me as easily as it did for my sister. What I did have were my grandparents’ firsthand stories, with rich history peeking through childhood anecdotes and accounts of war. Korean history always felt quite accessible to me, even if it didn’t make me feel Korean enough.

Accordingly, getting to participate in the Sejong Korea Scholars Program was a dream come true for me. I sensed that it would be a unique and incredible opportunity, and that perception was immediately confirmed by the first introductory meeting on Zoom. If anything, the online format made the focus of the program even clearer, and each virtual classroom felt just as grounded as any in-person class I’ve experienced.

It was especially exciting to be surrounded by 18 other like-minded and talented peers. We were all in pursuit of the same learning, the same deep dive into Korean history—and many were in the program for reasons similar to mine. There was a deep affinity for culture in the group, and not just for Korean culture. With so many Korean Americans in the group, it was fun to post or comment about our connections to Korea, and just as exciting to learn about Korean Americans from esteemed Professor Kyeyoung Park, who graciously answered all of our questions. I also must commend the students who weren’t Korean and simply were excited about Korean history; their passion was always quite inspiring.

Above all, what made SKSP so special was the historiography, which had long been a personal area of interest. Dr. HyoJung Jang, our extraordinary instructor, curated a diverse assortment of sources each week, ranging from U.S. government documents to articles to contemporary qualitative experiments. In between each virtual classroom, I pored over several sources, and reflected on the way they interacted with each other. As I worked on our biweekly writing assignment, I found myself making multiple connections for each source and forming my own mini arguments in the paragraphs. By the time we got to each lecture, I had stewed on my ideas long enough to get quite excited about the questions I wanted to ask.

Each lecturer gave a spectacular presentation and was quite generous with their time. In particular, I’ll highlight Professor Gi-Wook Shin and Professor Nancy Abelmann, who taught us about different facets of contemporary Korean society: nationalism and the education system, respectively. Their talks were grounded in Korean norms of filial piety, respect, and also patriarchal systems, a topic I intended to write my paper about.

At the time, however, my paper topic was, quite frankly, a mess. I knew I wanted to involve pop culture somehow into my discussion of ingrained misogyny in Korean society, but had written some incredibly vague topic proposal about sexist dating norms present in music and TV shows. Luckily, Dr. Jang gave some much-needed feedback about the large scope of my proposal. In the process of reading through academic papers around sexism, I came across digital feminist movements, and decided that the accessibility and weaponization of the internet was going to be my new focus. Of all the incredible experiences in the program, I think I’ll always remember writing my paper, how Dr. Jang was an especially important personal mentor, and the overwhelming feeling (as I was writing) that I was connected to my culture, somehow.

When I think back to the way I worried over my lack of a connection to Korea at the beginning of the year, I find my concerns a bit silly now. I now know that I have always been connected to my heritage through my history. Even if that didn’t feel like it was enough before, my scholarship and pursuit of Korean history through SKSP have now proven that to me. I will forever remember this program as a place where my writing became true to myself, and went beyond what I ever could have imagined. To all interested students, I urge you to apply without inhibition. You will surely find something you didn’t know you needed—whether it’s a reassurance about your culture, a reignited passion, or simply growth—in the Sejong Korea Scholars Program. 

SKSP is one of several online courses offered by SPICE.

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