After all, the United States doesn’t hold a monopoly on Machiavellian power plays. Just look at what’s been unfolding in South Korea.
President Yoon Suk Yeol’s near-impeachment over his martial law declaration reveals the lasting grip of South Korea’s power structures—systems largely shaped by American influence.
Designed to serve Cold War imperatives, these systems were engineered under U.S. supervision in the wake of World War II. When Washington assumed control of southern Korea, it didn’t just aim to rebuild; it sought to create a government that would stand as a barrier against communism. At the heart of this strategy was Syngman Rhee, an American-educated figure chosen not for his merit but for his allegiance to U.S. interests. Rhee’s appointment made Washington’s priorities clear: American control came first, democracy and genuine reform were distant afterthoughts.
South Korea’s deep state emerged from the uneasy merger of colonial remnants and new American directives. The U.S. military administration relied heavily on collaborators from Japan’s colonial regime—police officers, intelligence operatives, and military officials who had once enforced imperial rule. This choice was deeply unpopular among Koreans, who harbored intense resentment toward their former occupiers due to decades of brutal colonization and cultural suppression. Despite their tainted reputations, these collaborators were viewed by the U.S. as crucial for maintaining order and crushing resistance.
Deepening Dynamics
The Korean War, which raged from 1950 to 1953, deeply reinforced these dynamics. It was not just a battle between North and South but a proxy war, with the U.S. investing heavily in South Korea to counter communist expansion. During those grueling years, American advisors reshaped South Korea’s military and intelligence systems, embedding them firmly within the framework of U.S. strategic objectives. The war’s end cemented the division of the peninsula and bound South Korea to a militarized political order, dominated by Cold War priorities.
In this volatile environment, figures like Park Chung-Hee found their footing. When Park seized power in 1961, he became the embodiment of the deep state’s duality.
On the one hand, fostering rapid economic growth, and on the other, relying on authoritarian control to crush dissent and maintain stability. His rise was a direct product of the militarized and deeply hierarchical system built during and after the war, a system designed to prioritize control over democracy. Sound familiar?
Rapid Expansion
Over the decades, the deep state adapted but never abandoned its authoritarian roots. As South Korea industrialized, chaebols—massive family-owned conglomerates like Samsung, Hyundai, and LG—became the country’s economic lifeblood. These corporations wield (and continue to wield) immense power, shaping not only the economy but also influencing government policies to cement their dominance. Their reach stretches into nearly every corner of Korean life, from politics to media to education. Samsung, in particular, stands as a striking example. Having lived in Korea for a few years, I witnessed firsthand the near-reverence it commanded. People spoke of Samsung as if it were a god—its influence vast, its grip on the nation undeniable.
Chaebols often act like they’re above the law, regularly dodging consequences for scandals that would destroy others. Take Samsung’s leadership, for example. Despite facing corruption and bribery charges, top executives have regularly escaped with little more than a slap on the wrist. Even the Galaxy Note 7 exploding battery debacle barely dented the company’s reputation. The alliance between chaebols and South Korea’s political elite has forged a power structure so dominant it challenges the authority of the state itself.
Again, I ask, does this sound familiar?
If not, it should.
Striking Similarities
Parallels with the American deep state are impossible to ignore. Both the United States and South Korea wrestle with unelected forces—military, intelligence, and corporate elites—that wield outsized influence over national policy. At home, institutions like the CIA and NSA operate with near impunity, conducting covert operations and mass surveillance that sidestep accountability. The revolving door between government and corporate America ensures that the interests of giants like Google, Amazon, Apple, and BlackRock take precedence over those of the public. These entities, more powerful than ever, don’t just influence the system; they are the system.
Of course, South Korea isn’t the only country where the U.S. exported this model. Across Latin America, U.S.-backed coups propped up authoritarian regimes, from Pinochet’s brutal dictatorship in Chile to the juntas of Argentina. In the Middle East, American intervention reshaped—and often destabilized—nations like Iran and Iraq, leaving behind chaos that continues to shape these regions.
As is clear to see, South Korea’s story is not just a cautionary tale; it’s also a mirror. The deep state isn’t far-fetched fiction; it’s a very real network operating in the shadows. It might have been “Made in America,” but like fast food, Hollywood, and the internet, it’s a product that has been exported, adapted, and embraced worldwide.
The deep state is everywhere. And nowhere.
