Courtesy of Ciaran O Brien
Incheon International Airport has received a lot of praise since it was established as the country's major transit hub. And despite the relative absence of bars and decent food places open at reasonable hours, many have long admired the efficiency of this airport. Old people take the subway there to sit inside somewhere warm or cold as the seasons dictate. Hallyu fans arrive in their droves, ready to spend a fortune at Olive Young and beyond. But recent changes have left me questioning how much of the comfort and service the airport once had is now being sacrificed in the name of efficiency and profit maximization.
A few days ago, I found myself once more at a self-check-in kiosk, attempting to keep an eye on my two kids while, at the same time, checking-in my luggage. I looked around and noticed similarly middle-aged people struggling with the computers and the automated process. Gone were the days of friendly attendants, smiles for the children and jokes about the quality of the passport photos. Now, I stood in front of a machine that demanded I check in my own bags, scan the labels, and confirm my flight details. It's one thing to order a coffee or a kimbap from a machine. It's something else entirely to get four people on an international flight. And the most annoying thing? I had to pay for the "privilege" of this self-service. A service that seems to be getting increasingly expensive and more demanding.
This isn't just a matter of convenience or the joy some find in their neurodivergence and not having to interact with other humans as they move through the world. Instead, it felt like a reminder that in the current neoliberal era the burden of labor and responsibility is increasingly being passed onto the consumers. Businesses simply offload their responsibilities to machines and, in perhaps the greatest of all capitalist ideas, the customer themselves. In this new economy, we've become both workers and customers, expected to do the job of an employee while paying for the "service" in the process. Meanwhile, the companies no longer have to employ humans, no longer have to provide wages or insurances. They just take all the profits. In one sense, it's brilliant. In another sense, it's disgusting. It's like how K-pop entertainment companies no longer have to pay money promoting their groups. Now, the labour is carried out by horny young fans who stream their idols on multiple devices. And they do this work for free.
Societal change
This is not an isolated incident. Across Korea, similar trends are taking hold. From cafes and convenience stores to restaurants, businesses are increasingly embracing automated systems and other forms of self-service. At first glance, these technological advancements seem harmless — if not downright convenient. After all, who doesn't enjoy the speed and simplicity of ordering a coffee at a kiosk, avoiding human interaction altogether? But beneath this lies something more insidious: the erosion of meaningful, human-centered labor, and the commodification of basic services.
The neoliberal drive to reduce labor costs has led to the widespread automation of jobs, and, by extension, the creation of a "self-service" culture where the consumer is expected to shoulder not just the cost of the product, but the burden of labor as well. It's a situation that often leaves workers displaced or invisible, while the consumer is coerced into becoming an unpaid laborer for a company that reaps the rewards.
But the real question is: Where does this end? We're already seeing the disappearance of human employees in many sectors, but the move to kiosks and self-checkouts also creates a sense of disconnection, as businesses increasingly dehumanize interactions and make customers feel like cogs in the economic machine. Is it really progress if we're simply making the consumer work harder for the same service?
In an era where profit maximization drives decision-making, businesses are finding it easier to pass on the labor costs to the consumer. And what's more troubling is how many people have internalized this logic, accepting it as a natural part of the "modern" economy. We're led to believe that automation is inevitable, that it's a necessary step toward progress. But when automation becomes a way to offload work onto us while simultaneously reducing actual workers, what's the real cost?
Who actually pays?
The Incheon Airport self-check-in kiosks may seem like a small inconvenience on the surface, but they are indicative of a much larger societal shift toward self-service, automation, and the erosion of meaningful human labor. And while technology may promise efficiency and convenience, we should remain cautious of a future where our most basic needs are met not by human hands, but by cold, faceless machines — and where we're the ones left to pick up the slack.
Perhaps it's time to reconsider what kind of society we want to build: one driven by efficiency and profits, or one that values human interaction and dignity. In the rush toward neoliberalization, it's easy to forget the cost of losing the human touch. The question is who will pay it. Or perhaps, more importantly, who will look after my kids while I'm juggling passports and 4 oversized bags filled with far too many Korean souvenirs.
David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.