Seoul for the soul: humanity in an age of acceleration

Monique: "Humanity is becoming extraordinarily sophisticated technologically while remaining deeply fragile politically and socially."

A day before the Asia Leadership Conference began, I stood at the border of the Korean Demilitarised Zone.

On one side: one of the world’s most technologically advanced democracies. The skyscrapers of Seoul, high-tech powering everyday life. A country that transformed itself from the devastation of war into a global economic and cultural powerhouse, all within a generation.

On the other: one of the most isolated states on earth.

The distance between them is a few kilometres but can only be measured in worlds.

Our guide in the DMZ, Jason, a former South Korean military serviceman, walked us through the history of the Korean peninsula with the kind of detail and emotional clarity that only comes from living alongside unresolved conflict. Korea’s division, he reminded us, was not inevitable. It emerged from great power politics at the end of World War II, when Soviet and US influence collided on the peninsula before a sovereign Korea could fully re-emerge.

Years of war followed.
Millions died.
Millions more were separated from their families.

The Leadership Network members got to visit the DMZ — the buffer zone between North and South Korea 56 kilometres north of Seoul

Even now, 70 years later, the Korean War has never formally ended.

That tension lingered with me throughout the conference, themed “Out of turbulence: toward a new balance”.

From discussions on artificial intelligence, to geopolitical fragmentation, to democratic erosion, energy security, media distrust, and the weakening of multilateral systems, I kept returning to the same thought: for all our technological acceleration, many of our deepest human challenges remain stubbornly unchanged.

Albanian Prime Minister Edi Rama captured this tension beautifully in the opening keynote, reflecting that leadership today requires “the courage to listen, and to build bridges where others only see distance.” I worry we have lost our ability to listen courageously.

The conference itself was impressive in both scale and production. 170 speakers from 24 countries descended on The Shilla in black limousines: political leaders, academics, journalists, military strategists, business figures, and cultural voices.

Yet despite the breadth of topics, AI dominated almost every conversation.

AI in warfare.
AI in journalism.
AI in governance.
AI in productivity.
AI agents replacing or augmenting human labour.
AI-generated misinformation accelerating the collapse of trust.

Leadership Network members (left to right) Ezekiel Raui, Kate Falloon, Jason Tran at the Asian Leadership Conference

Associated Press’ Director of AI, Troy Thibodeaux, described the ideal future as a “centaur”: machine-powered but still guided by a human head and heart, while warning instead of dystopian “reverse centaurs”: systems where humans provide the labour and body, while machines increasingly become the head.

Throughout the week it became difficult not to wonder whether the centaur has already bolted.

Humanity is becoming extraordinarily sophisticated technologically while remaining deeply fragile politically and socially.

Perhaps for that reason, the most powerful sessions for me weren’t about technology at all.

Panels on women’s political leadership, featuring NZ’s Dame Jenny Shipley and French Ambassador Delphine O explored the rising hostility directed towards women in public life, the coordinated rollback of rights once thought secure, and the growing inability of international institutions to protect democratic norms in an age of fragmented media and online radicalisation.

Discussions on journalism with former CNN Vice President Richard Griffiths described a global erosion of trust, not only in AI-generated content, which most of us are already learning to approach sceptically, but increasingly in journalism itself.

Several speakers described the United Nations as facing a historic crisis of legitimacy and effectiveness. Not exactly breaking news, but hearing it stated so bluntly by people working within those systems carried a different weight.

Again and again, the underlying question seemed less about whether humanity could innovate, and more whether our institutions, ethics, and social cohesion could keep pace with the systems we are building.

And yet, outside the conference halls, Seoul itself offered a kind of counterargument.

The city feels intensely alive. It hums in the way Aotearoa, for all its natural wonder, stills.

Not simply technologically advanced, but deeply human. Late-night restaurants full of conversation. Music spilling into alleyways. Design, humour, fashion, ritual, and community layered into everyday life. A city moving quickly, but still textured with culture and social connection.

In one final meeting before leaving Seoul, Jo Min, ANZF Advisory Board member who now heads the CJ Cultural Foundation, reflected on Korea’s extraordinary rise within a generation — from one of the poorest countries in the world to one of the wealthiest. The same competitiveness and relentless work ethic that powered Korea’s manufacturing success, she noted, may not necessarily serve the country in the same way in the AI era.

That observation stayed with me.

Because much of the conference felt preoccupied with moving faster. Scaling faster. Automating faster. Optimising faster.

But Seoul itself kept reminding me that speed alone is not the same thing as meaning.

One of the most memorable speakers was songwriter EJAE. Aside from unashamedly fangirling over a real-life K-pop Demon Hunter, I loved her reflections on music, creative craft, and the conflict between what we prioritise versus what we know actually feeds our soul.

Korean songwriter EJAE speaking at the conference

EJAE spoke about culture as “the seasoning to the food”, the thing that gives depth and meaning to life. About the pressure young people feel to move endlessly faster. About compassion, rest, and intentionality as necessary acts of leadership in turbulent times.

By the end of the week, I realised that was what I had been craving too:

Something more grounded.
More human.
Less optimised.

In international education and global engagement, we often focus on preparing people for the future. But experiences like this increasingly make me think our responsibility is larger than that.

Perhaps part of our role now is helping people remain human within the future we are creating.

To build graduates as leaders who can navigate complexity without losing empathy. Who understand history as well as innovation, and who can hold both at once. Who can work across cultures and ideologies at a time when mistrust and fragmentation are accelerating globally.

At a moment when multilateral systems are weakening, trust is fragmenting, and technological acceleration is outpacing political and social adaptation, spaces that foster genuine understanding matter enormously.

That is what made the experience so valuable.

Because standing at the DMZ was a reminder that geopolitical fractures can persist for generations. But Seoul itself was also proof that societies can rebuild, transform, and imagine futures beyond conflict.

And maybe that was Seoul’s real lesson for me.

Not that innovation alone will save us, but that culture, compassion, humour, history, and human connection still matter profoundly in shaping what comes next.

As EJAE reflected during the conference: “We have more speed than ever before, but not always in the right direction.”

In a world obsessed with optimisation, perhaps the real challenge is ensuring we don’t move so fast that we lose what matters most.

The Asia New Zealand Foundation Leadership Network equips the next generation of Kiwi leaders to excel in Asia. We provide members with the connections, knowledge and confidence to lead New Zealand’s future relationship with the region.