BTS is not the first to reclaim Gwanghwamun Square. In 2009, the FIS Snowboard World Cup Big Air transformed the square into a snow field, complete with a giant slope on which boarders defied gravity, launching themselves into the air. It was a rare opportunity to see the square from a different angle. Despite being one of the most recognizable landmarks in Korea, it has long been weighed down by historical and political significance. Gyeongbokgung Palace, home to the five-hundred-year Joseon Dynasty, stands at the northern end. The Sejong Center for the Performing Arts, an architectural hybrid of tradition and modernity, and the first Anglican church in Korea line the square. Even without mentioning the Blue House, the presidential office and residence, its political weight is unmistakable. It is no coincidence that protesters and demonstrators of all political leanings have long chosen this square as their platform. Against this backdrop, the snowboard event allowed the square, however briefly, to shed its old image. Gwanghwamun felt young again.
The BTS comeback show has pushed this transformation further, reshaping the square beyond what might once have seemed imaginable. The stage, built around a giant cube-shaped gate whose opening frames the entrance to Gyeongbokgung Palace, carried the aura of a mysterious object—almost like a spaceship. When its LED panels displayed abstract images, it appeared to be transmitting an esoteric message from afar. The cube, a mathematically calibrated monolith of geometric balance, felt at once alien and commanding, casting a different light onto the surrounding statues and the palace. In doing so, it seemed to suggest, quietly but unmistakably, who these streets might belong to in the future.
There is little doubt that BTS stands as one of the most influential musical acts today, with a corresponding cultural reach. It may now be an opportune moment to reflect on what they have changed and achieved. For this retrospective, I will once again bring in Horatio and invite his perspective after laying out my own, in three points.
1. Fan Culture
What distinguishes BTS from other pop groups is, among many things, ARMY—their fans. Often described as a “decentralized network” without a clear hierarchy or chain of command, they nonetheless move with remarkable coordination, almost as if they were an organic mechanism. The early global success of BTS owes much to these voluntary efforts: translating lyrics, circulating content, and sustaining enthusiasm across linguistic and cultural boundaries. HYBE facilitated this interaction through Weverse, a digital platform that allows direct communication between artists and fans. This infrastructure enabled an unprecedented circulation of artistic intention and response, forming a bond of loyalty grounded in mutual recognition. ARMY thus becomes more than a collective of admirers; it becomes an integral part of what BTS represents. While the company provided the initial framework, it was ultimately ARMY themselves who established a new mode of being fans.
Claims that each generation produces its own exceptional fan culture—often tracing the lineage back to The Beatles—risk underestimating the role of ARMY in the BTS phenomenon. They are not merely supporters but co-creators of a narrative: that of an underdog overcoming prejudice, indifference, and structural limitations to claim its own voice. This narrative arc—BTS’s public persona—functions as a cultural sensibility through which fans articulate identity. To be ARMY is not simply to admire but to participate in the ongoing construction of that identity.
2. Two-way Korean Wave
The Korean Wave, or Hallyu, refers to the global popularity of Korean cultural content, and BTS is often positioned as one of its most visible outcomes. Yet BTS has also altered the very direction of this phenomenon. It is no longer a unidirectional flow of content produced in Korea for global consumption; rather, it has become increasingly reciprocal, blurring the distinction between producer and consumer. As a result, contemporary Korean cultural production often incorporates elements not traditionally recognized as “Korean.”
The first phase of the Korean Wave, spanning the 1990s to the early 2000s, saw the rise of Korean television dramas across Asia. Their emphasis on family values and romantic narratives allowed them to be readily identified as distinctly Korean. Series such as Winter Sonata became emblematic of this period. A later turning point came with Gangnam Style by Psy, which broke global viewership records and introduced a different kind of cultural translation, blending self-deprecating humor with elements of hip-hop and global pop.
Emerging in the 2010s, BTS operates within a more complex field of cultural interaction. Rather than simply adapting Western forms, they engage in a dynamic exchange, shaping and reshaping global pop sensibilities. Their music occupies a space that is neither wholly Korean nor entirely global, but something in between. In this sense, it becomes increasingly difficult—perhaps even futile—to categorize BTS strictly within the framework of the Korean Wave. What they produce exceeds such boundaries.
3. BTS Law
The so-called “BTS Law,” enacted in 2021, allows certain figures in the cultural and entertainment industries to defer mandatory military service until the age of thirty. This revision emerged in response to BTS’s global cultural impact. Previously, exemptions or special considerations had largely been limited to athletes and practitioners of classical arts whose achievements brought international recognition. For instance, Son Heung-min received exemption following his gold medal at the 2018 Asian Games.
The extension of similar consideration to popular culture figures marks a significant shift. It disrupts the long-standing hierarchy that privileged classical arts as embodiments of cultural prestige, while relegating popular entertainment to a lesser status. At the height of BTS’s global influence, calls for such recognition gained traction, reflecting a broader transformation in how cultural value is assigned. The law, while still requiring formal recommendation from the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism, signals a rebalancing: between tradition and popular culture, between established forms of national representation and those that challenge them. It acknowledges, perhaps belatedly, that young men in the entertainment industry—who may perform in pink suits and makeup, and who complicate conventional notions of masculinity—also contribute to the nation’s cultural standing in meaningful ways.
Horatio Says
This is where a structural reading becomes necessary.
One might begin from a slightly different angle. What has been described so far in terms of culture, meaning, and historical shift may also be understood as the emergence of a system—one whose contours become visible precisely in the case of BTS.
1. The Birth of a System
What is often called fan culture, particularly in relation to ARMY, deserves to be reconsidered. It is frequently described as a decentralized network—without hierarchy, without command—yet it exhibits a degree of coordination that borders on the systematic. This paradox is not incidental. It signals the presence of an underlying structure that organizes participation without explicitly directing it.
One must look at the structure behind the spectacle. The early global rise of BTS is inseparable from the voluntary labor of fans: translation, circulation, amplification. These activities appear spontaneous, even altruistic, yet when taken together they form a coherent pattern. Platforms such as Weverse do not simply host this activity; they give it form. They provide the conditions under which interaction becomes continuous, visible, and repeatable. In doing so, they transform isolated acts of enthusiasm into a coordinated flow.
What emerges, then, is not merely a community but a system—one that organizes attention and sustains momentum. The individual fan participates freely, yet their actions are already aligned with a larger configuration. No single agent commands it, and yet it operates with remarkable efficiency. It is in this sense that ARMY may be understood not only as an audience but as a constitutive element of the system itself. The narrative you describe—the underdog overcoming structural limitations—is not simply told to the fans; it is produced through their participation. The system, in other words, generates its own continuity by incorporating those who believe in it.
2. Continuous Digital Mediation
If the first moment is the emergence of a system, the second is its mode of operation. What sustains this configuration is a continuous process of mediation—a relay through which meaning circulates among artists, fans, and platforms.
What appears at first as a cultural exchange reveals itself, upon closer inspection, as a circuit. The distinction between producer and consumer, already blurred in what has been termed the Korean Wave, becomes increasingly difficult to maintain. Content is produced, received, interpreted, redistributed, and re-inscribed in an ongoing chain. Each moment feeds into the next, not in a linear progression but through feedback loops that amplify certain signals while attenuating others.
It is here that the technological dimension asserts itself most clearly. Metrics—views, streams, rankings, engagements—do not merely reflect popularity; they actively shape it. They guide attention, stabilize visibility, and create hierarchies of significance. The meaning of BTS, if one may put it this way, is not fixed at the point of production. It is continuously relayed, modified, and reinforced across platforms. What the artist presents, the fan interprets; what the fan circulates, the platform measures; what the platform amplifies, returns once more to the artist as both validation and constraint.
The concert at Gwanghwamun exemplifies this process. While it takes place in a specific physical location, its significance cannot be confined there. It is extended through screens, fragmented into clips, translated into data, and reassembled in countless acts of sharing and commentary. The event becomes part of a larger chain in which presence is no longer limited to physical attendance. To participate is to enter the circuit.
One might say, then, that what is at stake is not simply the global reach of a musical act, but the stabilization of a system that continuously produces and reproduces its own meaning through digital mediation. The human element—desire, identification, affect—remains indispensable. Yet it is caught within a process that exceeds any individual contribution, operating according to a logic that is at once technological and collective.
That, at least, is how it appears from where I stand.