KS's Global Insights into Higher Education

A few weeks ago, I turned a corner off Whitehall and there he was, Robert Clive in bronze, surveying his dominion. The sight was a stark reminder of how empire lingers in subtler forms. Education has long been a medium of power, and my time in London sharpened an old question: if guns and tariffs once carried British influence, do degrees, curricula, and branch campuses now serve the same purpose in gentler guise?  Knowledge has never traveled neutrally. Empire conferred prestige on what was taught in its centers and relegated indigenous traditions to the margins. The legacy endures: English dominates academic publishing, global rankings reflect Western metrics, and UK degrees remain universal benchmarks. To many, the statue of “Founder of British India” is more than a relic. Expansion of UK Higher Education Abroad Transnational education has expanded rapidly, with British universities offering degrees through branch campuses, joint programs, and franchises across Asia and the Midd...

The 80th anniversary of Korea’s liberation from Japanese colonial rule invites reflection on the many ways the nation has rebuilt itself. Among the institutions that symbolize this rebirth, Inha University occupies a unique place. Founded in 1954 with the support of Korean immigrants in Hawaii, Inha represents one of the earliest acts of transnational solidarity in modern Korean history. The name itself, " In cheon + Ha waii", embodies this legacy. For the diaspora who had left their homeland in the early 20th century to work on Hawaiian plantations, establishing a university in war-ravaged Korea was an act of patriotism and gratitude. Yet today, despite this extraordinary history, Inha University is often undervalued in South Korea’s higher education landscape. It is not because of a lack of contribution. Inha has trained generations of engineers, scientists, and business leaders who advanced Korea’s modernization. The problem lies in a society where entrenched hierarchies o...

Faced with declining domestic enrollments, political tensions, and financial pressures, U.S. universities are increasingly reconsidering international branch campuses (IBCs) as strategic diversifications and safeguards against uncertainty at home. Examples like Georgetown University in Qatar and Illinois Institute of Technology in Mumbai highlight renewed interest in global expansion. However, South Korea’s Incheon Global Campus (IGC) exemplifies the complexity behind these ambitions. Initially expected to attract large student numbers from Asia, IGC has significantly underperformed enrollment expectations, especially among international students. Its struggles underscore that geographic proximity alone does not ensure student demand, challenging assumptions of automatic enrollment and highlighting the importance of understanding local markets deeply. The IGC experience demonstrates that English-medium instruction (EMI), although seemingly advantageous, can paradoxically restrict rathe...

During South Korea’s 2025 presidential election, a provocative question surfaced in public discourse: “Why not vote for the guy from Harvard?” This rhetorical pitch, delivered by a close ally of Lee Jun-seok, a leading opposition candidate, was intended to reinforce Lee’s legitimacy as a modern, tech-savvy leader ready for the AI-driven future and educated within what is widely regarded as the most prestigious higher education institution in the world. The framing appeared to resonate with a public that continues to place high value on elite academic credentials. At the same time, some observers questioned whether such messaging risked appearing overly elitist or detached from broader social concerns. This moment captured a deeper and more persistent undercurrent in Korean society: the enduring power of academic pedigree or what Koreans typically refer to as “ hakbeol .” In this context, Harvard functioned not merely as an alma mater but as a symbol of excellence, global access, and pr...

The global rise of "K" branding is undeniable. Sparked by the Korean Wave, terms like K-pop and K-dramas became household names. Later, K-quarantine emerged during the pandemic, and in more recent political turbulence, even "K-democracy" entered the lexicon. Together, they reflect the undeniable strength of Korea’s soft power. And while many countries begin with the letter “K,” it is perhaps only when paired with the assets of South Korea that the initial feels natural, even self-assured. Education has recently entered this expanding K-brand universe. The notion of “K-Ed” is already widely recognized, both for its merits and its flaws. On one hand, it reflects the national ethos that “our only real resource is human capital,” and indeed, South Korea’s meteoric rise owes much to its education system. International benchmarks such as PISA have consistently validated Korea’s academic excellence. Yet there is a darker side to this success story. The relentless pursuit...

In Seoul’s affluent Gangnam district, it’s not unusual to see parents lining up on a Saturday morning with children barely out of preschool. The reason isn’t a playdate or a pediatric checkup. It’s an entrance exam for kindergarteners. Dubbed the “4-year-old exam” and “7-year-old exam” in local parlance, these tests have become the latest escalation in South Korea’s education frenzy. Parents are pushing kids as young as four into academic training and test prep programs, despite scant evidence of any lasting educational benefit. The phenomenon raises an uncomfortable question: Why are we compelling toddlers and young children into this extreme of early competition? Education experts and policymakers warn that this trend is a symptom of deep structural pressures, from the fierce race for elite university admission and a high-stakes exam culture to parental anxiety in status-conscious communities and failures of public policy. It is an arms race that is warping childhood and widening soc...