[Column] "The Qualification od a 'BTS Holding Nation'"

 Original article: No Cut News

How the 'home country's is treating BTS's comeback after 4 years

On the afternoon of the 23rd (local time), at the East River in southern Manhattan, New York, about 1,000 people gathered at the outdoor venue Pier 17 despite the gloomy weather, filled with excitement. They were ARMYs—fans of BTS. These were the "true" ARMYs invited to Spotify's global streaming event, BTS SWIMSIDE. 

When BTS finally appeared, cheers that were almost screams erupted. It was their first reunion in four years. BTS passionately performed tracks from their comeback album ARIRANG, released just three days earlier, accompanied by their signature dazzling and beautiful choreography. American ARMYs, who had already memorized the lyrics, responded with a full-on sing along. It was a joyful night for both artist and fans. 

Yet something felt strangely off. Compared to their comeback stage held two days earlier at Gwanghwamun Square in Seoul, BTS seemed more at ease here. Their interactions with fans looked more relaxed and cheerful. After finishing the Gwanghwamun performance, they immediately boarded a flight to New York the next day, enduring a 15-hour journey. And yet, there there were no signs of fatigue or jet lag. One might try to attribute it to the release of extreme tension and pressure after their military hiatus comeback—but is that really the case? 

On the night of the 21st, BTS's comeback stage became the center of controversy. Expectations that had flooded Korean media—such as "The Kings of K-pop are returning," "They will usher in a new revival of K-pop," and "The resumption of BTS-nomics worth trillions"—quickly turned into what critics called " overblown hype."

When reports citing the Seoul city government's estimate of 48,000 attendees surfaced, criticism and mockery began pouring in. 

"They predicted 260,000 but it flopped," "Public resources and taxes were used for a comeback, inconveniencing citizens," "All the kimbap prepared in anticipation of a huge hit went to waste," "It was a once-in-a-lifetime wedding, but none of the guests could attend"—such malicious remarks began to spread, with some media outlets rushing to amplify them. Even young students were heard repeating, almost like a chant, "Only 40,000 people showed up." Words that member Jimin would never want to hear—"BTS is past their prime"—started circulating. 

What must BTS have felt, having stepped down from the very top to fulfil their mandatory military service for their country, only to return to this? 

Articles and YouTubr broadcasts about the comeback stage, the new album, and its economic impact were flooded with hostile and malicious comments, regardless their actual content. Articles discussing "public inconvenience" or "failure" we're no exception. It suddenly seemed as though the entire world had turned into anti-fans. Some media outlets, ever hungry for clicks, revealed in the frenzy. For them, the basic journalistic principle of fact-checkinf had long disappeared. 

Even political forces joined in. To them, BTS had always been a prime target for attacking opposing factions. With each change of presidency, BTS became a punching bag for the opposing political side. Yet all BTS had done was participate in national events or promotional activities at the government request. They never endorsed a specific party nor mad political statements—yet they were criticized by both sides in turn. In Korea, BTS had become a convenient spacegoat. 

But are these direct and indirect criticisms of BTS actually grounded in fact? Where are the newlyweds whose weddings were supposedly "ruined" because guests couldn't attend? While there may have been inconveniences, guests were able to reach venues via police buses. Perhaps those couples should file compensation claims against HYBE, the government, and the Seoul city government upon returning from their honeymoons. 

Did shop owners lose all their valuable Saturday business? Aside from a few stores within controlled zones, that was not the case at all. In fact, many experienced record sales. A restaurant owner who was there with his daughter during the performance apologized for closing an hour early because they ran out ingredients due to overwhelming demand. A nearby waffle shop also closed for the same reason. The country's four major convenience store chains released statements celebrating surging sales—unless one assumes HYBE orchestrated that media play as well. 

The Four Season Hotel, which was said to have suffered losses, had actually been fully booked by event staff. The Sejong Center for the Performing Arts, reportedly affected by canceled performances, was rented out by HYBE as the event's base camp. 

There were also criticisms that public spaces like Gwanghwamun Square and Seoul Plaza were used free of charge. However, HYBE did pay usage fees to the Seoul government. When that became known, criticism shifted to claims that the fees were too low. That what about the countless concerns, political rallies, and sporting events previously held in such spaces? Should privately organized marathons also be charged road usage fees going forward? If those are considered events for citizens, are the fans attending concerts not citizens as well? 

Moreover, this concert was free. Some argued that since Netflix exclusively livestreamed it, viewersbhsd to pay to watch. While that point has some merit, why ignore the fact that the Livestream promoter Seoul—and indeed Korea's heart, Gwanghwamun—to a global audience? Netflix reportedly invested substantial funds into the broadcast without advertisements or sponsorships. 

From the start, the figure of 40,000 attendees—used as a basis for criticism—came from domestic telecom data. Foreign attendees, estimated at around 40% of the crowd, we're effectively erased. Police estimates of 80,000 and HYBE's estimate of 100,000 we're ignored, leaving only "40,000" to dominated headlines. Ironically, the earlier projection of 260,000 had also come from the Seoul city government and central authorities. 

While Korea was busy tearing down BTS's comeback, the rest of the world was in an uproar—in a positive sense. International media praised the Gwanghwamun performance:

●  "A grand return of BTS, a core driver of Korea's soft power" (The New York Times),

● "A symbolic journey from Korean history to modern culture" (Billboard),

● "The Gwanghwamun performance alone generated $177 million in economic impact" (Bloomberg). 

The new album ARIRANG is also receiving critical acclaim worldwide: 

● "A comeback that proves perfection" (Rolling Stones), 

● "A return to comparable to Elvis Presley" (The New York Times), 

● "The ultimate realization of K-pop born in Korea and embodiment of national pride" (NPR). 

As if to prove this, ARIRANG is sweeping global streaming platforms such as Spotify and Apple Music. BTS has resumed its role as a record-breaking force—setting firsts for Korea, Asia, and groups alike. Every track from the album is entering global charts simultaneously at the top, a phenomenon often referred to as "lining up." The album has effectively secured the No. 1 spot on the Billboard 200, and a seventh No. 1 on the Hot 100 singles chart is within reach. There are even playful predictions that "No. 29," a track consisting solely of the bell sound of the historic King Seongdeok Devine Bell, could enter the Hot 100 without any human featuring—potentially the first object to do so. A dance challenge set to the bell's sound is spreading on TikTok. 

What on earth is driving this behaviour in parts of Korea? If criticism is to be made, shouldn't there at least be basic fact-checking? What good does it do for fairness, justice, morality, or the public interest of a nation to tear down a global cultural figure like BTS? Or is it perhaps driven by personal interests, political agendas, or an attempt to vent frustration, resentment, or a sense of deprivation? If so, rather than wasting energy trying to bring BTS down, one might simply listen to their music. 

Korean ARMYs take pride of being the original fans from the "nation possessing BTS." Over seas ARMYs affectionally call them "K-diamonds," expressing gratitude for discovering, supporting, and nurturing BTS from their unknown days. Yet over time, particularly after the military hiatus, disappointment toward Korea has been growing among international fans. Many cannot understand why a country would neglect and criticize the very "gems" elevating its global stature. Sine even argue that Korea no longer deserves the title of a "nation possessing BTS." Can we truly refute such strong claims? These days, the questions only continue to grow.