A large proportion of the stress of university applications derives from the underlying desire to attend a well-known, reputable institution. No matter what students may say, no one wants to have to explain where and what kind of university they attend when asked. The ability to simply state the name of one’s university and have the other person immediately understand the exclusivity and prestige of that institution is something that every student desires, although to differing extents. 

Within Korea, this is visible to a very large degree. When off campus, the reaction people give after being told that one attends one of the coveted big-name institutions significantly inflates one’s ego. This name value is often the primary reason why so much of the Korean youth, often with direct or indirect influence from their equally infatuated parents, are obsessed with attending these universities. Let’s take the best case scenario of having your application accepted. You experience a brief honeymoon period where those around you perceive you as part of the elite — viewed by many as near-impossible. However, after starting to attend your classes, you are now surrounded with people who are just as talented, hardworking, influential, or rich as you are. That key differentiating factor that you once so desired — the clout of attending an exclusive university — has all but disappeared within the campus grounds.

Do students stop there? Absolutely not. University merchandise is where this clout-chasing phenomenon rears its head again. There is no better example of this than university baseball jackets — so much so that custom baseball jackets are a textile industry in itself in Korea. Every club, every department, every organization, and every association within Korean universities will have an annual merchandise sale, where members can buy exclusive group merchandise adorned with the group’s logo as well as the university’s logo. Even within small, exclusive groups, people want to differentiate themselves. Maybe it’s to show that they are in a club with a very difficult recruiting process, or that works for an official news outlet of the university, or some other unique characteristic. This makes one look selfish, but from a logical standpoint, it is difficult to see the purpose of club merchandise as anything else. I know for a fact that I’m inherently guilty of all of these things. 

Let’s take a step outside campus grounds. Wearing university merchandise within the city that the institution is located in is largely accepted. However, wearing the same merchandise outside your city is frowned upon, and often can result in you receiving judging looks from others, notably those who failed to be accepted into your university. There is a fine art to how openly you wear the soft power that is given from university merchandise. This was initially rather confusing to me. Being the more self-centered person that I am, I’m normally perfectly happy to show off this merchandise wherever I want, especially if it is something that I earned. And perhaps my different cultural background may factor in. But the side glances and comments I heard after once wearing my KAIST baseball jacket to Seoul to visit family were something entirely new to me. “Who comes all the way to Seoul just to show that they attend KAIST?” “He doesn’t even attend Seoul National University.” Maybe it’s because the shortest trip between major cities in my home country is nine hours, or because university name value doesn’t carry as much weight in Australian society, but I still struggle to understand the line that Korean society draws for showing off university clout.

Where is this boundary? Why does so much of Korean society support chasing the name value of universities and proceed to look down on those who show it off? Is it only acceptable to show it off after being asked about it? Finding the acceptable level of displaying university clout is an incredibly delicate matter of social understanding. The way I see it, you have every right to display, use, or take advantage of the name value of any group you are a part of, given that you have earned your place through your own dedication. You should be allowed to take pride in your achievements — academic or otherwise. However, I can see how this mindset can quickly snowball to purely toxic conceitedness. Managing the desire to separate oneself from others whilst still wanting to belong in a group, as is the nature of university clubs, is a very complex interaction between one’s insecurity and pride. And every student, whether knowingly or otherwise, is a part of this very complex social phenomenon. The phenomenon itself isn’t necessarily a problem to be solved, but it’s an interesting Korean social dynamic nonetheless.