Stanford University’s Walter H. Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center (APARC) is pleased to announce that NPR's Beijing Correspondent Emily Feng is the recipient of the 2022 Shorenstein Journalism Award for excellence in coverage of the Asia-Pacific region. The award recognizes Feng’s eloquent and influential reporting on China amid unprecedented hurdles facing foreign journalists seeking to report in and on the country. She will receive the award at a public ceremony in fall 2022.

Feng, who joined NPR in 2019, roves around China through its big cities and small villages, reporting on social trends as well as economic and political news coming out of Beijing. She contributes to NPR’s newsmagazines, newscasts, podcasts, and digital platforms. Previously, she served as Beijing correspondent for the Financial Times, covering a broad range of topics, including human rights and technology.

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During her tenure at the Financial Times, she began to report extensively on the region of Xinjiang, becoming the first foreign reporter to uncover that China was separating Uyghur children from their parents and sending them to state-run orphanages, and discovering that China was introducing forced labor in Xinjiang’s detention camps.

“Emily Feng’s reporting is crucially important journalism that pushes the industry forward and tells powerful stories of Chinese citizens amid intense pressure by the Chinese government over investigative stories on the country,” said Gi-Wook Shin, Shorenstein APARC director. “We applaud her courage and outstanding work and are delighted to recognize her with the Shorenstein Journalism Award.”

Presented annually by APARC, the Shorenstein award, which carries a $10,000 cash prize, honors the legacy of APARC’s benefactor, Mr. Walter H. Shorenstein, and his twin passions for promoting excellence in journalism and understanding of Asia. The selection committee for the award, which unanimously chose Feng as the 2022 honoree, noted that her work embodies the purpose of the award, stating that her reporting on China’s persecution and treatment of the Uyghurs “stands out as some of the most stunning of the past few years.”

The committee members are William Dobson, co-editor of the Journal of Democracy; Anna Fifield, editor of the Dominion Post and Wellington editor for New Zealand's news site Stuff, who is also the recipient of the 2018 Shorenstein Journalism Award; James Hamilton, Hearst Professor of Communication, chair of the Department of Communication, and director of the Stanford Journalism Program, Stanford University; Louisa Lim, senior lecturer, Audio-Visual Journalism Culture and Communication, University of Melbourne; and Raju Narisetti, Publisher, McKinsey Global Publishing, McKinsey and Company.

Feng's reporting has let her nerd out over semiconductors and drones, travel to environmental wastelands, and write about girl bands and art. She has filed stories from the bottom of a coal mine, the top of a mosque in Qinghai, and from inside a cave Chairman Mao once lived in. Her human rights coverage has been shortlisted by the British Journalism Awards in 2018, recognized by the Amnesty Media Awards in February 2019, and won a Human Rights Press merit that May. Her radio coverage of the coronavirus epidemic in China earned her another Human Rights Press Award, was recognized by the National Headliners Award, and won a Gracie Award. She was also named a Livingston Award finalist in 2021.

Feng graduated cum laude from Duke University with a dual B.A. degree from Duke's Sanford School in Asian and Middle Eastern studies and in public policy.

Twenty journalists previously received the Shorenstein award, including most recently Swe Win, editor-in-chief of the independent Burmese news organization Myanmar Now; Tom Wright, co-author of the bestseller Billion Dollar Whale and a veteran Asia reporter; and Nobel Laureate Maria Ressa, CEO and executive editor of the Philippines-based news organization Rappler.

Information about the 2022 Shorenstein Journalism Award ceremony and panel discussion featuring Feng will be forthcoming in the fall quarter.

This commentary first appeared in The Diplomat magazine.

At the 2022 Grammy Awards on April 3, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy delivered a pre-recorded speech, imploring musicians and the global community to speak out on the ongoing war in Ukraine. “Russia,” he said, “brings horrible silence with its bombs.” Zelenskyy urged the Grammy artists to “fill the silence with your music… Tell the truth about this war on your social networks, on TV.”

Many artists in the United States and worldwide have been doing just that, with singers ranging from Billie Eilish to Elton John donating and speaking out in support of the Ukrainian people. But one group has been conspicuously absent from this movement: South Korea’s K-pop singers. Despite their rising global stature, only a handful of K-pop idols have heeded Zelenskyy’s call.

Indeed, while outspokenness on hot-button societal issues has become ubiquitous among American celebrities – who voice their thoughts on causes ranging from the war in Ukraine to Black Lives Matter, LGBTQ+ rights, and climate change – the social media accounts of Korean idols cultivate squeaky-clean images rather than broach subjects that could prove controversial. Only top stars like BTS have had leeway to speak out on pressing issues – and even then, this is rare. At most, others express their support quietly with subtle fashion items, or advocate on relatively uncontroversial causes, like air pollution or animal rights.

K-pop idols’ silence is particularly conspicuous in comparison to their global fanbase, which has proved to be a formidable source of human rights advocacy around the world. K-pop fans in Myanmar have played a crucial role in organizing anti-authoritarian protests in the country. In 2020, pro-democracy protesters in Thailand marched to the tune of the Girls’ Generation song “Into the New World” – a track that has a rich history of use in South Korea’s own protest movements. In the United States, during the major Black Lives Matter movements in 2020, K-pop fans drowned out racist voices by flooding anti-BLM Twitter hashtags with fancams of their favorite idols.

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Korean celebrities’ avoidance of these contentious issues stems, understandably, from the goal of achieving widespread popularity. In trying to foster an expansive, loyal fanbase, K-pop agencies have instructed singers to avoid topics that could alienate fans instead of attracting them: K-pop stars are not allowed to date, let alone voice opinions on sensitive global causes.

Yet, if K-pop hopes to have global staying power, it is time to break this silence. To ensure that K-pop is taken seriously, the industry’s idols should begin to engage with serious issues that global audiences care about. This is especially true in light of a growing expectation that idols should do so. For example, fans seek accountability from an industry that benefits from the appropriation of Black culture or the support of LGBTQ+ communities, yet whose stars remain silent on the rights issues these groups face. Speaking out on such causes is a sure way for K-pop to garner widespread global respect and cement its place as a genre that is relevant, global-minded, and here to stay.

True, idols may alienate some fans by advancing certain positions, but this has done little to hurt K-pop’s overall march toward global domination. The genre’s popularity is so immense that in 2020, the Chinese Communist Party backed down from an attempt to stir nationalist frenzy against BTS. The mega-boy group emerged unscathed.

Even the Kim Jong Un regime, one of the most oppressive governments in the world, is no match for K-pop: The genre’s popularity among North Koreans persists despite the threat of execution for individuals caught listening. In fact, the issue of human rights in North Korea could be an important cause for K-pop celebrities to take up, especially given K-pop’s penetration into the reclusive nation. Who is better positioned than South Korean idols to speak up on behalf of their brethren to the north?

The problems within the K-pop industry itself may be another good place to start. Idols face notoriously grueling working conditions and immense mental and physical pressure. If idols are to begin voicing their opinions, agencies must better support their artists, rather than abandoning them when controversy arises.

K-pop stars do not need to become as politically hyperactive as their counterparts in the United States. However, now that they have a foothold in global markets, they should use their platform to speak out on human rights movements – not only because they are well-positioned to support these causes, but also because doing so will cement their global staying power. To remain globally relevant, K-pop must be the first mover, not a fast follower – or risk getting left behind.

Your new book examines the paradox of the global diffusion of universal human rights. Could you explain this paradox and its origins?

The main paradox here is that states have unwittingly promoted universal human rights to a near-sacred status when these principles do nothing but constrain their sovereignty. I should note that throughout the history of human rights, it was civil society that pressed states hard to establish human rights and limit their arbitrary exercise of power. Gradually, civil society actors expanded their vision of rights-holders such that it’s not just Christians, whites, and men but also non-Christians, non-whites, and women who are seen as deserving of rights, and that universe of obligations expanded to include all humanity by the time of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights. States resisted this process every step of the way but had to make concessions to legitimize their authority and, in the era of World Wars, to mobilize the public toward war efforts. When women contributed to domestic mobilization for World War I in Europe or when Black people contributed to World War II in the United States, the governments’ arguments for discriminatory treatments against them began to lose legitimacy.

Then, as many human rights treaties emerged since the 1960s, states across the globe ratified these treaties in droves, often to deflect criticisms against their domestic human rights practices. The Cold War context gave them a false sense of security, as they thought that these treaties are toothless and if anything happens, either the United States or the Soviet Union would protect them from serious sanctions. This may have been an accurate calculation at the time, but the large number of states parties to these treaties elevated the legitimacy of human rights norms enshrined in these treaties, making human rights a near orthodoxy.

The end of the Cold War enabled the United Nations to engage in human rights activities free from Cold War constraints, and now those states that committed to human rights without thinking about the consequences have to face a world in which their violations can become a real liability for them, a world that they helped create with their empty promises for human rights. All these miscalculations by states constitute this paradox, what I have called in a co-authored paper the paradox of empty promises.

What is your assessment of the efficacy of international human rights instruments and human rights diplomacy in the 21st century? Have some strategies been more effective than others in improving human rights practices?

If you look at the history of international human rights instruments in the post-World War II era, it is fairly clear that those instruments are often powerless when powerful states — permanent members of the UN Security Council — are not willing to act. The international community has repeatedly failed to stop major human rights violations, even universally condemned crimes like genocide, by these powerful states and their allies and protectorates. The international human rights regime’s track record for large-scale, intense human rights violations is not good.

On the other hand, international human rights instruments have been effective in making incremental improvements when sustained campaigns of naming and shaming can be mounted. These changes take a long time and do not necessarily result in dramatic improvements, but all over the world, indigenous peoples have gained more rights, women have voted in more countries than ever, and extreme poverty has declined. International human rights treaties and institutions have been instrumental in bringing about these changes and their contributions should be acknowledged, although we should be aware that there is always the potential for backlashes against all the progress. 

How has Japan been involved in international human rights? How do human rights diplomacy and education in Japan compare with world standards?

Japan’s first international statement that can be seen as a contribution to human rights may have been the proposal to include a racial equality clause at the 1919 Paris Peace Conference. As the only non-white major power, it was an important proposal, even if it was made for its own strategic calculations, and minority groups all over the world, including Black people in the United States, applauded it. It did not pass, unfortunately, and the disillusionment contributed to Japan’s aggressive behavior in Asia after this period.

In the post-World War II period, Japan had an engagement policy, which meant that it would prioritize communication with rights-violating regimes rather than condemn and impose sanctions on them. This was often criticized by the human rights community, as Japan engaged with apartheid South Africa, Myanmar’s military regime, and post-Tiananmen Square China. Over the last decade or so, more politicians and diplomats have been interested in moving Japan toward values diplomacy, largely in an effort to counter China. Some of them have been vocal in criticizing China and North Korea for their human rights violations, and this momentum might spill over to a fuller commitment to human rights diplomacy that has eluded Japan.

Japan’s human rights diplomacy is still emerging for the most part, but it has been a relatively good listener to criticisms about its human rights violations. Primarily because of pressures from UN human rights instruments, Japan has acknowledged Ainu as an indigenous people and promoted their culture, accorded more rights to resident Koreans in Japan, compensated victims of discrimination against leprosy patients, and addressed inequality in legally marriageable ages between men and women.

How do you think Japan will contribute to the future of international human rights? Do you believe that Japan may play a larger role in advancing human rights on a global scale?

Japan has an opportunity to become a leader in human rights in Asia and in the world. The more inwardly oriented United States is creating a vacuum in promotion and protection of liberal values, especially with China’s influence surging, and Japan should carry the torch taking the mantle of human rights, democracy, and rule of law. Japan is the largest contributor to the budget of the International Criminal Court, which prosecutes individuals responsible for major human rights violations, and it is an interesting symbolic example of Japan’s potential contributions to international human rights. That budget is allocated according to national wealth, and the two richer countries, the United States and China, are not members of the ICC, so Japan becomes the largest contributor. This could be a dynamic that plays out in other areas, and Japan should embrace that role of becoming the biggest contributor to international human rights efforts.

What did you find surprising as you were researching your book?

When Japan made the aforementioned proposal for racial equality in 1919 at the Paris Peace Conference, it received majority support and was about to be adopted. It was U.S. President Wilson who nixed this clause, making the argument that such an important resolution requires unanimous support. We tend to think of President Wilson as an architect of the League of Nations at the Conference, and although that might be true, his role in this episode might be indicative of his thinking around the issues of race.

This is an English translation of an article first published by the Chosun Ilbo.
See also the coverage by VOA Korea.

"Americans wonder why K-pop stars don't talk about universal issues such as human rights problems,” says Stanford sociologist Gi-Wook Shin, the director of the Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center (APARC). “Isn’t it time for K-pop singers, too, to use their position to speak out?”

According to Shin, who is also the founding director of the Korea Program at APARC, K-pop and North Korean human rights are two aspects of Korea that particularly draw the interest of the general public in the United States. In May 2022, APARC will mark the 20th anniversary of the Korea Program. As part of the commemorative activities, the Program is producing a documentary about K-pop, followed by one that covers North Korean human rights.

"With a focus on these two issues, we hope to strengthen the Korea Program’s academic roots by linking to the field of Korean studies and to shed new light on North Korean human rights,” said Shin in a February 8th interview with Chosun Ilbo. He noted that, when seeking out topics for the documentaries to spotlight, he and his team kept in mind Silicon Valley’s strong consumer-oriented climate and the interests of students and the public.

In South Korea, the production of the documentaries is carried out by director Lee Hark-joon, a professor at Kyungil University and former TV Chosun producer-director. Lee is the creator of "Crossing Heaven’s Border," a documentary about North Korean defectors, as well as "9 Muses of Star Empire," which recorded scenes of the K-pop industry. For the forthcoming documentaries, he intends to capture footage that has not been seen on camera before, such as domestic K-pop production sites and the human rights movement in the North Korea-China border region.

To plan the creative direction of the K-pop documentary, the team at APARC has met frequently with the production crew in Korea via Zoom. Researchers of diverse origins and ethnicities participate in these meetings, but the official language is Korean. According to Shin, "Students acquire Korean even through self-study, and many are familiar with K-pop groups that I hadn’t even heard of, like aespa." He adds that "We spent two lectures on K-pop in my course on Korea last year, and there is not enough suitable video material to use for classes — this is another motivation behind producing these documentaries."

When Shin meets with Stanford students to discuss K-pop, they ask questions such as why, if K-pop enjoys immense status, K-pop singers do not seem to talk about issues such as human rights, whether Korean singers know that crowds of demonstrators sing K-pop songs while protesting for democratization in Asian countries like Myanmar, and if K-pop will be sustainable.

While these are questions that must be answered for K-pop’s future, "Americans are reading K-pop in a very American code," explains Shin. Americans also supported the South Korean human rights movement during the time of the country's authoritarian government in the 1970s. “Now,” notes Shin, “American intellectuals constantly discuss North Korean human rights or Chinese democracy. On the other hand, it is ironic that South Korean progressive groups, who received foreign help in their fight for human rights in the 1970s, downplay the human rights crisis in North Korea."

Shin shared that he and his team are also considering plans to make a proper documentary on Korea and distribute it through Netflix, where Korean content is gaining immense popularity.