During my semester abroad in Seoul, South Korea, I was often asked “Why did you go abroad?” “Why did you choose Korea?” My usual response was something along the lines of wanting to find myself and learn more about the culture – something that admittedly felt very cliche. However, being in South Korea also meant experiencing the United States from the outside, where it became apparent that the chaos of American politics doesn’t stop at national borders.
When I first found out about Charlie Kirk’s assasination, I was in my Democracy Theory class at Chung Ang university. One of my classmates, who was also American, informed me of his death. This sparked a conversation in the classroom. The class demographic was roughly 50% Korean students and 50% exchange students from countries including the United States, France, Germany, and Taiwan. To my surprise, nearly everyone in the class was familiar with Charlie Kirk and his controversial debate style. A majority of the discussion focused on the irony of his positions, especially regarding gun policy, which many joked had ultimately contributed to his death.
This conversation from class lingered in my mind all week, but the streets of Seoul had a very different perspective. That weekend, after leaving my hair appointment, the streets of Hongdae had transformed. The usual scene—tourists wandering in circles, drunk businessmen with cigarette ash smudged on their suits—was replaced by clusters of protesters waving American flags and Charlie Kirk posters, chanting slogans that echoed across the streets. At first, it didn’t compute—why would strangers on the other side of the world be so consumed by the death of an American political commentator. Later that night I met with my Korean friend and asked him about it and our conversation opened my eyes to how deep American Influences runs in South Korea. He informed me that the U.S. intervention during the Korean war (1950-1953) was not only a political response to the North Korean Invasion but also played a crucial role in influencing South Korea’s political institutions, military development and industrialization. American military presence, economic aid, and political backing helped stabilize the regime while accelerating postwar reconstruction and industrialization.
These conditions embedded anti-communism, nationalism, and pro-American alignment deeply into South Korea’s political culture—ideological legacies that persist today. Contemporary far-right movements draw on this Cold War inheritance, often framing themselves as defenders of national security against external threats, particularly China and North Korea. In this context, American political figures and debates are not seen as distant spectacles, but as ideological reference points. U.S. conservative rhetoric, protest tactics, and media strategies are absorbed and repurposed, allowing American political conflicts to resonate within South Korea’s own political landscape.
Standing in Hongdae, watching fragments of American politics reappear thousands of miles from home, I was struck by how porous political borders have become—and by how deeply American intervention has shaped the political landscapes beyond its own shores. Experiencing American politics from abroad made clear not only the enduring reach of the United States, but the extent to which its military, economic, and ideological influence continues to structure political life elsewhere. America’s internal conflicts do not simply travel through global media; they are absorbed into societies historically shaped by U.S. intervention, refracted through local histories, and mobilized in ways that give foreign political debates a distinctly American imprint.
