When President Lee Jae Myung was asked at a press conference last week about rising anti-China sentiment in South Korea in connection with a recent data-theft case involving a Chinese national, his response was terse but firm. “So what?” he retorted sternly. “Should we hate Japan if the person were Japanese? Should we hate the US if they were an American?” The answer was logically sound, but it failed to address the deeper and more troubling reality of growing anti-China feelings among many Koreans. He may have silenced the reporter, but he did not silence a public increasingly critical of its powerful neighbor.

The hardening of Korean attitudes toward China is clearly reflected in opinion polls. In a June survey conducted by JoongAng Ilbo and the East Asia Institute of more than 1,500 South Koreans, 66.3 percent expressed unfavorable views of China, up from 63.8 percent a year earlier. “The nature and behavior of the Chinese people” was cited as the top reason (58.1 percent), followed by “one-party communist rule” (39.5 percent). “Economic coercion” and “environmental impact” were also frequently mentioned.

What is especially worrisome is the sharp generational divide. More than 80 percent of respondents aged 18-29 held negative views of China, compared with 70.2 percent among those in their 30s and 72.5 percent among people in their 40s. Among those over 70, however, the disapproval rate fell to 53.9 percent. In short, as generational change progresses, Korean society is likely to become even more hostile toward China. Little difference was found across other demographic categories, including gender.

The roots of this sentiment trace back to the mid-2010s, when China became more assertive toward its neighbors as its influence grew. The tipping point came in 2017, when the United States deployed the THAAD missile-defense system in Korea despite Beijing’s fierce objections. While Seoul and Washington said the system was designed to counter North Korea, Beijing insisted it was aimed at China.

China responded with sweeping, though unofficial, economic retaliation. A major Korean supermarket chain that had provided land for the THAAD site was forced to shut down its Chinese operations following state-sanctioned consumer boycotts. Equally damaging was Beijing’s blanket ban on Korean cultural activities: K-pop concerts were canceled, and Korean films and dramas disappeared from Chinese platforms. Although some trade measures have since eased, the cultural freeze largely remains.

Chinese claims over Korea’s cultural and historical heritage have also fueled resentment. The so-called Northeast Project was widely viewed as an attempt to recast parts of ancient Korean history as subordinate to China. Beijing’s assertions regarding Korean traditional foods and costumes only deepened public anger. Environmental issues add to the tension, as Chinese industrial emissions are often blamed for Korea’s seasonal fine dust pollution. The COVID-19 outbreak in 2020 further aggravated perceptions, with Beijing’s early denials and delayed responses widely criticized in Korea.

More recently, conspiracy theories alleging Chinese interference in Korean politics have intensified the backlash. Claims that Chinese nationals rigged the 2024 parliamentary elections — which produced a landslide victory for the ruling Democratic Party — circulated widely among conservatives despite the lack of credible evidence. These narratives, amplified in social-media echo chambers, have given rise to extreme hate speech both online and offline. In Seoul’s bustling Myeongdong district near the Chinese Embassy, verbal harassment and even physical threats against Chinese tourists by far-right protesters are no longer rare.

The disclosure that a Chinese employee of e-commerce giant Coupang had stolen sensitive customer data added further fuel. As one of the largest cyber-breach cases in Korean history, it bolstered claims that Chinese nationals are disproportionately involved in crimes, a perception reinforced by occasional reports of online scams or drug trafficking linked to China.

This surge in anti-China sentiment is alarming because it reflects a broader nativist and nationalist undercurrent. Having long viewed itself as ethnically homogeneous, Korea has often been wary of outsiders. As immigration rises, this wariness increasingly manifests as open discrimination. The UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination recently warned of a growing tide of racial discrimination in Korea.

Although foreign nationals still account for only about 5 percent of Korea’s population — far less than in the United States or Europe — signs of deepening nativism are evident. In a Chosun Ilbo poll this week, 77 percent said immigration should be reduced or kept at current levels. Over 40 percent believed immigrants increase crime, while only 16.9 percent disagreed. More than a third said the government spends too much on immigrant support. Only 19.4 percent believe immigrants make Korean society better through their culture and ideas, compared with 26.5 percent who think otherwise.

The government therefore needs to act with urgency. Because anti-China sentiment is inseparable from a broader anti-immigrant trend, it must intensify public education on multiculturalism. The values of diversity and inclusion, and immigrants’ contributions to Korean society, should be taught from an early age and reinforced through media campaigns. Otherwise, Korea may soon confront the same social conflicts now troubling many advanced societies.

Lee Byung-jong

Lee Byung-jong is a former Seoul correspondent for Newsweek, The Associated Press and Bloomberg News. He is a professor at the School of Global Service at Sookmyung Women’s University in Seoul. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. — Ed.

khnews@heraldcorp.com