It’s time for the South Korean government to hit the brakes on its relentless investment in Gangnam—Seoul’s most overdeveloped and overprotected district. From the central government to the Seoul Metropolitan Government, both have competed to pour development projects into this symbolic urban core. While other neighborhoods in the capital saw mixed results from grassroots citizen-driven initiatives, Gangnam thrived almost exclusively under the protection of public-sector planning and capital.
But despite this overwhelming level of development, Gangnam still attracts an endless queue of government-backed projects. It’s already bursting at the seams with transport infrastructure—countless subway lines, expressways, and even high-speed railways have all been funneled into this one area. And now, the sprawl is extending eastward into Jamsil.
The GTX super-speed train lines don’t just pass by Gangnam—they pierce straight through it. Even major real estate scandals couldn’t derail these projects. It’s as if the district is politically immune—scandals ignored, accountability dodged, and development prioritized regardless.
The Gangnam Cartel
What makes this more alarming is the emergence of a tightly knit “Gangnam cartel.” Politicians, bureaucrats, scholars, and high-ranking public servants increasingly choose Gangnam as their home, reinforcing a geographic and economic elite. Gangnam’s influence now stretches south, absorbing Yangjae, Bundang, Seongnam, and even Yongin into its orbit as feeder zones or “satellite towns.”
This lopsided investment is not a natural result of free-market forces but rather a byproduct of administrative favoritism and collusion between political and business circles. The result is a distorted urban hierarchy. Rather than stabilizing Seoul’s real estate market, this overconcentration has fueled runaway housing prices—even during economic downturns. Gangnam’s so-called "invincibility" is no longer a badge of strength, but a sign of imbalance. It’s not just a Gangnam bubble—it’s a ticking time bomb for all of Seoul.
Southward Expansion—But Only So Far
Despite efforts to extend Seoul’s urban spine southward, the expansion abruptly ends after Jamsil and a few neighboring satellite cities like Guri. The proposed GTX-D line to Wonju is often cited as a sign of future potential, but it, too, is designed to strengthen Gangnam’s connectivity—only exacerbating the problem.
Legal Town and the Collapse of Urban Logic
The establishment of the judiciary and prosecution complexes in Seocho has brought unintended consequences. The Prosecutors' Office was built to tower over the nearby Supreme Court—both of which now cast literal shadows over SaRang Church. It’s difficult to tell whether prayers are directed toward God or toward the towering institutions of state power.
Even local food culture has been warped. Skyrocketing prices along Teheran-ro and Gangnam-daero have pushed up the cost of everyday life. What used to be considered premium is now just "average," infecting the rest of the city’s dining scene with inflated expectations.
Gangnam Is Not Korea’s Competitive Edge
South Korea’s global competitiveness doesn't live in Gangnam. In fact, the majority of white-collar workers who flood Gangnam’s high-rise office towers each morning are not Gangnam residents—they come from its hinterlands or from Gangbuk, the northern half of Seoul. Had these companies been evenly distributed across the city, Seoul might have evolved into a true polycentric metropolis.
Instead, what we’re getting looks more and more like a dystopian urban future—one eerily reminiscent of the mechanical metropolises built by Promethean engineers. On one end, we see sleek machines rushing through their overscheduled lives; on the other, we find broken, overlooked neighborhoods carrying the burden of poverty. This is not a tale of progress—it’s the birth of a Metal Planet. A megalopolis spiraling out of control.
What is a Megalopolis?
The term “megalopolis” was first coined in 1961 by French geographer Jean Gottmann to describe the densely populated corridor from Boston to Washington, D.C.—a nine-hour stretch housing over 100 million people. But its roots trace back to ancient Greece, where Epaminondas built a giant polis in Arcadia by the same name. Urban theorist Lewis Mumford described the megalopolis as the final stage before a city turns into a necropolis—a city of the dead.
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