The Korean Chinese: Same Blood, Different Rank
Drawing on a 2026 national survey, this study argues that South Koreans' rejection of Korean Chinese (Joseonjok) stems not from simple xenophobia but from a hierarchical form of incorporation that fixes them at the bottom of the social order, where their very co-ethnicity paradoxically intensifies suspicions of divided loyalty and conditional acceptance rather than fostering equality.
Original paper licensed under CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). This is an AI-generated explanation of the paper below. It is not written or endorsed by the authors. For technical accuracy, refer to the original paper. Read full disclaimer
The Science of "Us" and "Them"
Imagine you are walking through a crowded park. You see a group of people who look exactly like you, speak your language, and share your family recipes. By all rights, you should feel an instant, warm connection with them, right? This is the heart of a field called migration studies, where scientists try to figure out why some people welcome newcomers while others push them away. Usually, the answer seems simple: if you think a new person will steal your job or change your culture, you might not like them. But what happens when the new person isn't a stranger? What if they are your "cousin" from a different country?
This is where the concept of hierarchical incorporation comes in. Think of it like a family reunion where everyone is technically family, but some cousins are treated like royalty, others like regular guests, and one specific cousin is forced to sit at the kids' table and wash the dishes, even though they share the same last name. Scientists call this a "sense of group position." It's not just about how you feel as an individual; it's about a shared, unspoken rule that says, "We are the main family, and you are the junior branch." This study asks a tricky question: Why do some people treat their closest relatives worse than they treat total strangers?
The Mystery of the "Betrayed Cousin"
In this study, researchers Youngho Song and Youngmi Choi from Hanyang University decided to investigate a very specific puzzle in South Korea. They looked at a group called the Joseonjok (Korean Chinese). These are people who are ethnically Korean and speak the Korean language, but they live in China and hold Chinese citizenship. You would think that because they are so similar to South Koreans, they would be the most welcomed group. But the data told a different, stranger story.
The researchers surveyed over 1,000 South Koreans to see how they felt about different groups of immigrants. They found something surprising: the Joseonjok were actually the least liked group, even more so than the Koryo-saram (Koreans from the former Soviet Union), who have lost much of their Korean language and culture.
So, what is going on?
The study argues that South Koreans aren't trying to kick the Joseonjok out of the country entirely. In fact, only about 2.1% of people said they didn't want them there at all. Instead, the South Koreans are practicing what the authors call "hierarchical incorporation."
Imagine a club where you let the Joseonjok in the door, but you immediately hand them a sign that says, "You are a member, but you are a low-ranking member." You accept them as part of the "us," but you fix them at the very bottom of the ladder. You don't hate them; you just think they belong in a specific, lower spot. The study found that even the most open-minded South Koreans, who say they want to include the Joseonjok, still believe the Joseonjok need to "adapt to our culture" and prove themselves before they can be treated as equals. It's like saying, "You can sit at the table, but you have to eat with a plastic fork until you earn a silver one."
Why is this happening?
The researchers tested a few theories to see what was driving this attitude.
- Is it about money? They checked if people were worried about the Joseonjok taking jobs or lowering wages. They found that while money matters for general immigration, it doesn't explain why the Joseonjok are treated so badly specifically. When they compared the Joseonjok to the Koryo-saram (who are also low-status), the fear of economic competition disappeared.
- Is it about safety? Yes, but not just in a general way. People felt the Joseonjok were linked to crime and safety issues.
- Is it about loyalty? This is the big one. The study found a "loyalty stigma." Because China and South Korea are geopolitical rivals (like two teams playing against each other in a high-stakes game), South Koreans suspect that the Joseonjok might be "on China's side."
Here is the twist that makes this study so fascinating: Being a "cousin" actually makes the suspicion worse.
The researchers call this the "Paradox of Kinship Recognition." If you are a total stranger (like a Han Chinese person who isn't Korean), no one expects you to be loyal to South Korea, so no one accuses you of betrayal. But because the Joseonjok are ethnically Korean, South Koreans feel they should be loyal. If they seem to lean toward China, it feels like a personal betrayal. It's the "black sheep" effect: a family member who acts against the family is judged much more harshly than a stranger who does the same thing.
The data showed that the more a South Korean recognized the Joseonjok as "kin" (family), the more likely they were to let that suspicion turn into a desire to exclude them. It's a switch: once you admit they are family, the "traitor alarm" gets turned on.
What does this mean?
The study suggests that this isn't just about individual prejudice; it's a collective habit. Even though the South Korean government has been trying to make things fairer by changing laws to give the Joseonjok better rights (merging different visa types in 2026), the attitude of the people hasn't changed. The "low-status" label is stuck in people's minds like a heavy coat they refuse to take off.
The researchers found that this "loyalty stigma" is unique to the Joseonjok. It doesn't happen with the Koryo-saram, who are also low-status co-ethnics but are seen as "victims" rather than "potential traitors." The Joseonjok are stuck in a trap where their very similarity to South Koreans is used against them.
In short, the study concludes that South Koreans aren't rejecting the Joseonjok because they are "foreign." They are rejecting them because they are "foreigners who look like us but might be on the other team." It's a complex mix of accepting them as family while simultaneously watching them like suspects, a dynamic that money or simple kindness campaigns might not be able to fix. The authors suggest that until the system changes how it defines "belonging"—moving away from just bloodlines and toward actual life and contribution in the country—this "betrayal" feeling might keep the Joseonjok stuck at the bottom of the social ladder.
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