South Korea’s special envoys... for what?

President Lee Jae-myung has dispatched special envoys to the EU, France, UK and India, and now to Poland, Vietnam, Australia, and Germany. The official explanation is that these envoys are meant to “introduce” the new administration, reaffirm diplomatic ties, and share the government’s broad intentions with key partners.

This is a personal blog known for its cutting commentary, so I’ll be colloquial and frank—what a f#@king waste of time!

There’s a fundamental misunderstanding of diplomatic practice at play here—one that often occurs with the uniquely Korean situation of the “polifessor” (폴리페서), when academics turn into political advisors.

First, diplomacy is not episodic. It does not reset with each president. The relationships South Korea maintains with its partners are continuous, professional, and institutionalized. Embassies are open, ambassadors are in place—or being rapidly appointed, as the Lee administration is doing—and policy dialogue never actually stops. These structures are designed specifically to avoid disruption during leadership transitions.

The idea that a foreign government needs a personal “introduction” to Lee’s administration—as if Paris or Berlin has been sitting by the phone, nervously waiting to hear if Korea still wants to talk—is not only outdated, it’s mildly insulting to the diplomatic professionals already managing these relationships. The same “introduction” can be as effectively and far more efficiently achieved by a substantive policy briefing to the diplomatic corps in Seoul (but here’s the problem - there is no substantive policy!)

Second, to be a “special envoy” implies a special purpose. This is not a ceremonial title. In professional diplomacy special envoys are typically assigned to:

1. Carry out sensitive negotiations that cannot be entrusted to regular embassy staff. For example, a new groundbreaking proposal that requires foreign support before you even inform your domestic audience, such as Australian Prime Minister Paul Keating’s special envoys sent to Indonesia before the signing of the groundbreaking 1995 security agreement with Indonesia;
2. Demonstrate political seriousness or urgency. When a crisis requires a senior-level message to be delivered swiftly and unmistakably—such as envoy-led efforts during ceasefire negotiations or nuclear talks—an envoy with high-level proximity to the head of state can reinforce the message’s weight; or
3. Serve as an ad hoc representative with flexible authority in rapidly evolving situations. This includes conflict mediation, hostage diplomacy, or managing multilateral coalitions in fast-moving environments (think of special envoys for climate change, Syria, or pandemic cooperation).

In short, special envoys are deployed when something can’t be handled through routine diplomatic channels—either because those channels are unavailable, unsuitable, or compromised. And that brings us to the Korean situation.

The Korean polifessor’s grasp of diplomatic practice is often pretty shallow. He (and much less often, she) has strong theoretical knowledge and often equally strong ideological leanings. In this case, the theory says the U.S. is becoming more unpredictable, so Korea must diversify. The polifessor is the boss and has the president’s ear, the bureaucracy listens and implements - and then we have the current situation—an absolute waste of effort.

It’s academic rather than diplomatic. The blame lies at the heart of Korea’s foreign policy structure where the hierarchical nature stymies the flow of ideas and the willingness to proffer suggestions. The bureaucracy is weak, the polifessor is strong.

According to MOFA and presidential press releases, these envoys are delivering “letters” and “explaining” the Lee government’s direction. But none of this is necessary, urgent, or special!

Ambassadors—whose formal accreditation by the host state grants them the authority to represent their country—are already charged with this responsibility. Indeed, the Lee administration has moved swiftly to appoint new ambassadors to key posts. This should be sufficient. If more clarity is needed, the foreign ministry can issue communiqués, publish a white paper, a new national security statement, or the president can give a speech at the UN or an international summit.

Instead, what we have is a parade of ex-ministers, lawmakers, and campaign supporters boarding planes to hand-deliver vague platitudes about “cooperation” and “friendship.” These envoys are not empowered to negotiate. There are no treaties on the table. No specific initiatives, joint ventures, or new bilateral agendas appear to be discussed. These are not crisis missions. They are celebratory trips of a new administration—rewards for loyalty dressed up as statecraft.

The real problem isn’t just redundancy. It’s distortion. These trips give the illusion of active diplomacy, but they accomplish little. Worse, they risk sending mixed signals. When an envoy shows up alongside or ahead of a newly appointed ambassador, foreign officials might reasonably ask: who’s really in charge here? Does the envoy speak for the president in a way the ambassador doesn’t? Is this person part of a parallel channel of influence? Diplomatic clarity matters. These symbolic envoy tours muddy the waters.

And it’s not like South Korea has diplomatic capital to waste.

The regional environment is fraught. The Trump administration is putting increasing pressure on allies to align against China, all while offering little clarity on U.S. security commitments beyond electoral cycles. Japan has already cut its own side deal with Washington over tariffs, signaling its ability to negotiate directly and flexibly. Meanwhile, North Korea has returned to provocative missile tests, and China is increasing its influence in Southeast Asia and the Pacific.

On top of all this, there is a MASSIVE looming deadline on 1 August when US tariffs will devastate the Korean economy.

It would’ve been more effective to line up every one of these “special” envoys at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW with loudspeakers, and set up a good ol’ traditional Gwanghwamun tent protest. Now I jest, but really, this is a moment for hardheaded policy—not soft-focus spectacle.

The saddest part is that there’s a domestic political angle to these special envoys. A quick scan of the appointees reveals the familiar faces of Lee’s inner circle: a former science minister, a National Assembly vice speaker, ex-envoys, and longtime party figures. These are not the names you call upon to lead cutting-edge foreign policy initiatives; they’re the names you slot into ceremonial roles to pay off political debts. Their role is not to change policy but to represent the administration—without really having to do anything.

This might be excused if the country were flush with strategic certainty and surplus resources. But Korea is facing considerable global headwinds. Inflation is biting (and will get worse), export growth is slowing (and will slow further), and the country’s middle-power status—often more rhetorical than real—is under new pressure in a world where power blocs are hardening.

If the administration wanted to make a splash, it could be outlining policy - creative, innovative, and effective policy. It could be clarifying its stance on U.S.-China competition or proposing new multilateral mechanisms in Northeast Asia.

Instead, it’s organizing tours and wasting efforts.

Diplomacy, as scholars will always point out, is not just about being visible—it’s about being effective. And effectiveness comes not from motion, but from direction. These special envoy missions have neither. They are an expensive and unnecessary use of state resources, designed more for domestic display than foreign impact. The foreign ministry should take back the reins, ambassadors should be empowered, and special envoys should be reserved for moments that actually require something… special!

Until then, let’s call these missions what they are: political tourism. And in a moment of global uncertainty, it’s the worst kind of distraction.