B. J. Lee

Samsung's female employees are breaking through old barriers.

Even as the global economy begins to recover, the G20 has discovered a surprising, expanded role.

North Korea remains a dangerously irrational and belligerent country, willing to gamble that it can disrupt peace on the Korean peninsula at no cost. Problem is, there's nothing South Koreans can do about it—even they've faced the facts—because China is standing in the way.

Lee Myung-bak wants to move his country to the center of the world.

Jeju, South Korea's southern-most island, has long been a favorite winter destination for Asian tourists seeking warm weather and beautiful beaches. It is also renowned for delicious—and relatively cheap—seafood; Japanese tourists often fly to the island to enjoy sashimi at a fraction of the price they'd pay back home.

A presidential time limit meant to ward off strongmen condemns Korean politics to chaos.

America and South Korea have much to gain from their big trade deal, but may kill it for silly reasons.

Lee's departure has forecasters predicting big changes for family business empires. Again.

Lee Myung-bak aims to dig his nation to prosperity. But will his $16 billion canal turn into a black hole?

Lee wants to save his country by nudging it right and toward the U.S.—but his people may not cooperate.

Asia has long yearned to create its own Ivy League for the great mass of students who can't afford to make it to Harvard. Now it has found a shortcut. Two years ago Yonsei, South Korea's oldest and most prestigious private university, set up the Underwood International College (UIC), which offers a four-year program of all-English-language classes to compete with the best institutions in America and Europe.

When South Korea reopened its lucrative beef market to the United States in late October, ending a nearly three-year ban stemming from the outbreak of mad-cow disease, American beef exporters were upbeat.

Song Young Gil and Won Hee Ryong epitomize South Korea's 386 generation—the dynamic group of activists who took it upon themselves to transform the country.

South Korea's presidential election is 18 months away, but the race is already underway. Contrary to what one might expect, it's not shaping up as a competition between the incumbent (Roh Moo Hyun) and a challenger.

Intensely nationalistic South Korea has long been ambivalent about foreign investment. In the late 1990s, the country was forced to open its doors to private-equity funds and other international investors because, in the wake of the 1997-98 crash, the government badly needed help bailing out failing companies.

Cho Gyung Hee says she sold her soul for a toothbrush. One summer day in 2000 the 30-year-old mother of two sons was accosted on a Seoul street by recruiters who offered her a free electric toothbrush if she would sign up for a credit card.

It was shaping up as a good spring for the vocal minority in South Korea. Actors shaved their heads and marched against a plan to allow more Hollywood movies into the country.

It may seem like just an election. But for Kim Ki Shik, it is a crusade. On behalf of some 400 civic, environmental and feminist groups, Kim and fellow activists have drawn up a blacklist of 86 candidates they claim shouldn't be elected in this week's parliamentary balloting because of corruption, incompetence or past connections to dictatorship.

Chae Myung Shin was South Korea's top general in Vietnam from 1965 to 1969. Now retired, he spoke with NEWSWEEK's George Wehrfritz and B. J. Lee in his Seoul home.