Integrated Master’s/Ph. D Student at KAIST Graduate School of Science and Technology Policy
Wan Hong
wanmidsummer@kaist.ac.kr
Enter the Escapee
My name is Wan.
I graduated from KAIST in the summer 2023, with an undergrad major in Computer Science and a minor in STP. I am currently a student in the Master’s program at STP, and at the time of writing, just finished my first semester as a graduate student. I write this article as to recount my experience in the STP minor program while my memory is relatively fresh, and to share my overall impression on the program.
A somewhat confusing, yet accurate (at least to me) description of the minor experience is “The Dumbest Escape Room Ever”, a concept that I toyed with some years ago while studying video game design. It constitutes of a single room, with nothing inside. A plain, empty room with no puzzles, cryptic clues, or props. To beat this escape room, the player has to realize that the walls, while they look solid, are traversable and thus walk through any of the walls. <Figure 1> gives a visual representation of the concept. The idea behind this was to see how long it took for the player to start doubting one of their most basic assumptions, and also to see if the experience changes their future behavior in any way. If they are stuck in another empty room after this, would they start checking the walls sooner? I wrote this concept down, but never expanded upon it because it lacked entertainment value. Looking back, I now realize this hypothetical assumption-altering experience was very similar to my STP minor journey. The difference might be that the minor program was more enjoyable than my dull sketch of an idea (otherwise I probably wouldn’t have come all the way to graduate school).
<Figure 1> “The Dumbest Escape Room Ever”, my notes, 2021.
Stuck in a Room: Before the Minor
Let me back up a bit and provide some background, starting from my high school days. I attended an advanced science high school that, put mildly, was difficult. The academic pressure was relentless, and the atmosphere was filled with intense competition. Perhaps due to this environment, the school was a small, close-knit community that lacked diversity. Power imbalances were made among students via access to information related to college admission and school grades, a not-so-amiable social structure that some members of the faculty actually encouraged. Science and mathematics were no longer a subject of interest like I viewed them in middle school. Instead, as a student with no previous connections nor access to exclusive information, they were a means of survival. This forced obsession forged a weird way of me viewing science – it was inevitable, completely rational, and idealistic, yet I did not like this being the ruling factor in society (or perhaps I did not like the fact that people that I saw practicing science alongside me could get into important positions with relative ease).
A three-year period of this love-hate relationship led to burnout – both academically and mentally. I found myself as a freshman at KAIST with no energy or motivation to invest in my studies. Instead, I turned to playing board games, making seemingly pointless observations, and delving into the abyss of random internet readings. Nothing about studying was interesting to me, and I felt very much stuck. As a result of my academic burnout, my grades naturally took a hit. This led me to look for courses to pick up my struggling grades. I specifically sought ones that required minimal memorization – I was never good with memory in any case. I was also not too keen to take courses that actively “praised” science (not a wide range of choices for an undergrad at KAIST, I know).
This search was what first brought me to STP classes. Discussion based classes, essays rather than exams were more my type of easygoing courses. Surprisingly, the classes were refreshing – they were not too far apart from science and technology, yet offered a new perspective on issues. The experience made me consider enrolling in the minor program.
Looking At the Walls
I have to admit, I was apprehensive at first. Humanities and writing weren’t my strong suits, and this was before the era of AI writing assistance like ChatGPT. Additionally, my knowledge of real-world events, politics, and social studies was quite limited. The prospect of diving into discussions on these topics made me uneasy.
However, STP courses were the only classes at KAIST that made me genuinely want to read the assigned materials (apologies to my computer science professors – but their classes just didn’t ignite the same level of interest). The realization that these STP classes sparked my curiosity overcame my reservations. Moreover, the fact that it was just a minor program made the commitment seem manageable. I could just drop out if I didn’t like it, after all. Most of all, the courses helped me confront my view of what I call “scientific inevitability” – the view that all scientific knowledge is neutral regardless of context and thus a consensus is inevitable given enough information, and “technological omnipotence” – the view that eventually, all problems will be addressed on the basis of scientific knowledge and the solutions will be optimized by science. Some of the standout courses I took during the STP minor program were:
1. Science, Technology, and Policy – Fall 2020
As one of the mandatory courses in the minor, I took this class online, at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. The course focused on analyzing news articles related to science and technology, with trending topics including COVID-19, AI, and climate change. Contrary to expectations, the course wasn’t as humanities-heavy as some might assume. Under the guidance of Professor Chihyung Jeon, this was the first course that made me realize how I viewed science. It also made me doubt the rationality of science, perhaps even more so due to the amount of scientific uncertainty surrounding COVID. For the first few discussions of the course, I tended to pivot to the default answer of people championing technological omnipotence – “give it time, and there will be new technology in place to fix the issues”. However, professor Jeon made me think critically about this argument by bringing up discussion points where such advancements had already been made. Among them were the privacy concerns of contact tracing during the early stages of the pandemic, which highlighted that sometimes, the root of the problem – and thus also the solution – lies not in the technology itself, but in other societal aspects.
2. Quality of Life Technology and Social Policy – Spring 2022
This course, led by professor Moon Choi, offered a simplified exploration into the societal considerations that should accompany technological interventions. For a project, we were tasked with identifying social issues with quality of life implications, such as mobility challenges for people with disabilities. The goal was to conceive interventions that incorporated technology. This hands-on experience provided a bird’s-eye view of how research should be conducted, from needs assessment to designing interventions. It emphasized the importance of aligning technological advancements with societal needs. Examining products and services in the public realm to figure out the pain points of people with disabilities was an experience that “optimization” of society is either impossible or undesirable. For underprivileged individuals in society, a system that maximizes utilitarian value is useless, as is the case for people with disabilities in public transport. Many problems surrounding the deployment, and on rare occasions, the design itself of assistive technology revolve around the recurring issue that the users are a very diverse group, and a simple statistical assessment to maximize benefits simply wasn’t good enough. Even with the best intentions, it was very hard to figure out what were the core needs in everyday life for people in such different contexts. This put into question my previous notion on the inevitability of scientific consensus – when the factors surrounding people’s lives change so rapidly, is it possible to agree upon what is needed and act upon it in a meaningful enough way?
3. The Engineer’s Life <MV Sewol and the Engineers> – Spring 2022
In this course, which was another one of professor Chihyung Jeon’s, we delved into how engineers should navigate unforeseen challenges, using the tragic case of the Sewol Ferry disaster as a case study. We heard firsthand accounts from engineers and experts in various fields about their investigations into the disaster. The class unraveled a complex web of societal issues, including the lack of proper policies, emergency protocols, lax regulatory implementations, and corporate greed that made the disaster both preventable and expected. The more I looked at the material, the more I felt that no amount of science or technology can solve these problems, which resurfaced under different disasters and circumstances time and time again. What could actually address them was a commitment as a society for a safer, fairer, and more transparent system, which is arguably more difficult than making a convoluted piece of technology people can use to pretend that the best possible outcomes can be achieved by following it (looking at you, tech corporations around the world). The course also made a clear statement that the extent of a scientist’s responsibility does not end at examining and analyzing phenomena in real life, but a scientist is also responsible for sharing the knowledge and lessons gained from the research. This doesn’t necessarily mean that scientists should make every decision in solving problems in society. Ideally, they should inform the public as a whole, and appropriate solutions can be devised via democratic process.
Walking Through the Walls
I stated at the start of this article that in my bizarre escape room, I wanted to see how people changed after some of their basic assumptions were directly challenged. So how did I change, after walking through the walls that I built studying science? In the process of writing this, I did some retrospection. I think I changed how I viewed science and technology. To be specific, I had less divisive views on them – I did not consider them to be a great threat or a savior like I used to do. Instead, they now feel more like a begrudging partner to society; sometimes helping, sometimes not. I tend to think more about how to work with or work around existing technology in various situations now. You know, like that one person at work you wouldn’t call a friend but also not a complete stranger.
This change of perspective is something I wish everyone could experience, which is why I would recommend anyone, KAIST student or otherwise, to go through the STP minor program, or at least take some of its courses. For those considering delving deeper into STP, the minor offers a sneak peek into what lies beyond, providing valuable insights into the subjects and discussions awaiting you. It acts as a guide, offering a glimpse of what you can expect to study in more detail. However, even if the STP minor is where your journey concludes, the ideas and discussions shared within its confines are invaluable. They act as a compass, helping you navigate your path in the vast landscape of science and technology. Armed with the ability to communicate the significance of your research and its potential impact on society, you will find yourself equipped to steer towards outcomes that contribute to the greater good. To conclude, I cannot promise anything about how interesting or enjoyable the STP minor is – that depends on your interests. What I can promise is that your outlook on science and technology will change, no matter where you originally come from in terms of academics. If you come from a strict “natural science and engineering” background like me, you’d likely get introduced to the ugly underbelly of science in action – the parts that are so often shrugged off by scientists and engineers saying that it was an “unrelated incident”, or sometimes overcome by passion, “don’t bring politics into science”. You’ll see how science is not inherently neutral, and subject to society like any other human activity. If you come from a more humanities-oriented background, you’ll see how difficult it is to suggest policies or regulations without understanding the nuances of each field.
읽을거리
Cathy O’Neil. (2016). Weapons of Math Destruction, Crown Books.
A look into how algorithms (or AI) actually affect human lives. The stark contrast of the book’s content with the public hype or fear of AIs replacing humans gives a sense of how science is clouded by sensationalism. This contrast is even more apparent when you watch the movie Eagle Eye (2008).
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