The recent scenes of US government officials rounding up and chaining South Korean workers en masse at Korean factories in Georgia were shocking enough to raise the question: “What happened to the US I knew?” The Land of Opportunity, where generosity and warmth once welcomed foreigners as part of the community, feels like a distant memory. The Land of Dreams, where millions aspired to emigrate and build a better life, is no longer the same. Instead, foreigners — whether workers, students or even legal residents — are increasingly met with hostility, suspicion and animosity.

Ever since President Trump’s second term began, American society has changed radically. The shift began during his first term, but this time the pace is more ferocious and unrelenting. Anti-immigrant sentiment is swelling, fueled by the president’s provocative rhetoric about foreigners and foreign nations “ripping off” America. Foreign students and workers are now detained and deported without due process on technical charges of violating immigration regulations. Immigration and consular officials search the social media accounts of visa applicants, trying to filter out “unfit” entrants.

The case of 300-plus Korean workers detained in Georgia highlights this shift. They were brought to accelerate the construction of Hyundai and LG battery plants that promised thousands of jobs. Some visa violations occurred, but chains and shackles were excessive.

Reports suggest the raids were triggered by tips from local union workers concerned that Korean companies might prefer Korean staff. Their worries are not groundless. After decades of deindustrialization, America lacks qualified manufacturing workers, particularly for high-tech projects like those battery plants. At least in the initial stages, Korean firms need to bring in specialists from Korea to establish operations. Eventually, these factories will and should employ large numbers of trained American workers. But instead of balancing long-term benefits with short-term frictions, the raids have sent a chilling message to investors.

The timing is especially unfortunate. As part of a recent deal between Seoul and Washington, Korea pledged to invest $350 billion in the United States in return for lower tariffs on its exports. Already, the much-publicized agreement between Presidents Trump and Lee Jae Myung looks uncertain. Complex visa hurdles and inconsistent enforcement threaten to delay or derail projects, which could easily reignite trade tensions between the two allies.

Beyond economics, the growing anti-immigrant and anti-foreign mood in the United States risks triggering a broader backlash. Foreign travelers are already rethinking their plans. Many Canadians, for example, have canceled US trips in protest against Trump’s punitive tariffs and his humiliating threats of annexing Canada as America’s “51st state.” Boycotts of American products are reportedly spreading north of the border.

US universities, traditionally magnets for global talent, report sharp drops in foreign student applications. The administration’s investigations of elite universities over alleged anti-Israel or progressive leanings — seen abroad as political censorship — further alienate scholars and researchers. For decades, foreign students and academics have not only enriched American intellectual life but also sustained universities financially through tuition and living expenses. Their absence will be felt acutely.

The consequences extend far beyond lost tourism or tuition revenue. What is eroding is the very image of the United States — the intangible but invaluable reservoir of soft power. For much of the 20th century, America’s perceived welcoming attitude toward immigrants, openness to new ideas and cultural vibrancy gave it unrivaled influence. Foreigners admired, and often aspired to emulate, the United States.

Declining soft power carries real costs. Countries skeptical of American values will be less likely to cooperate in trade, security or diplomacy. Global talent will choose other destinations. Even allies may hesitate to trust a nation that appears increasingly insular and punitive. Over time, reputational decline translates into lost investments, weakened partnerships and diminished influence.

What, then, can foreigners — especially America’s closest partners like Korea — do? Some might argue for decoupling from the US economy or joining anti-Western alliances such as BRICS. But for Korea, so deeply intertwined with the US in trade, security, technology and culture, such options are neither realistic nor desirable.

The only viable path forward is deeper engagement — not with Washington alone, but with American society as a whole. Civil society organizations, local governments, nongovernmental organizations, universities and people-to-people networks still retain much of the openness and goodwill that once defined America. By building stronger ties at these levels, foreign partners can help nurture constituencies within the US that resist xenophobia and advocate for continued international cooperation.

History shows that America has often corrected course when reminded of its own ideals. Foreign voices matter in that process. By appealing not to fear but to shared values of opportunity, fairness and mutual respect, partners like Korea can help the US rediscover the better version of itself.

For now, however, the question remains painfully valid: What happened to the US I knew? Until America can reconcile its proud traditions with its current trajectory, both its friends abroad and its own people will continue to wonder if that nation still exists at all.

Lee Byung-jong

Lee Byung-jong is a former Seoul correspondent for Newsweek, The Associated Press and Bloomberg News. He is a professor at the School of Global Service at Sookmyung Women’s University in Seoul. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. -- Ed.


khnews@heraldcorp.com