From Screens to Sips: A short tale of Korean soju’s fame

[This post was originally published on 17 Sep 2024]

There are few drinks that I clearly remember trying for the first time. Soju is one of them. A clear distilled liquor traditionally made from fermented rice, soju has over the years become a symbol of Korea. 

In my head, its characteristic green bottle had some sort of mysticism. It was something I had seen on Korean television shows but never actually smelled or tasted. Despite its arrival in trendy bars across New York and London by the early 2010s, and its feature in popular video such as South Korean rapper PSY’s drinking challenge, soju was something I was yet to try back in 2016. 

Chaeeun had, of course she had. Waiting for our beef to char in the corner of a smoky Korean barbecue joint buzzing with energy and tipsy Chinese students, Chaeeun poured two glasses of somaek (소맥, a mix of soju and lager beer) for us. As she explained her preferred ratio for the drink, she looked effortless, experienced. Her dexterity was both calming and confident. As instructed, I gulped it all down, surprised by how refreshing it felt in the midst of summer. None of that vodka-like burn people talked about.

Many years have passed. And many sips of soju later, I remain fascinated by how quintessential the drink has become, even outside of the Korean Peninsula. Commercially made by diluting alcohol extracted from grains and starches with water and (more often than not) fruity flavourings, soju is nowadays a popular and affordable liquor for many around the world especially in East and Southeast Asia. 

Europe is slowly following suit. Korean soju is now available in most major retail supermarkets as well as pan-Asian stores around Britain. In 2024, HiteJinro - one of the largest soju producers/exporters - reported a 73% annual growth in the UK. While soju’s increased popularity can be linked to a much wider growing interest in Korean cultural artefacts and products, its media features beyond the Korean Peninsula are still limited. They are confined to represent and reproduce what is deemed as “Korean”.

Let me explain. What has characterised the global representation of soju throughout the years is its romanticisation. Soju as a drink and cultural symbol is used again and again in Korean dramas to represent unity, happiness and sorrow. In a - perhaps slightly unhealthy way - the act of drinking marks clear transitions in a character’s journey within the plot. It marks their relationship with themselves and the outside world. 

If you were to take a shot every time a bottle of soju appears in any episode of a Korean drama (please don’t! Drink responsibly!), you’d be drunk before the episode ends.

No other drink does that. It’s as if any French/Italian movie used wine as a tool to move the story along without making wine the focus of the plot. 

Soju does not carry the same power in European and North American-produced media. Its seldom appearances are used to locate Koreans within those cultural contexts or create representations of Korean spaces within those environments. In other words: they are used to attribute a sense of Koreanness to specific characters or restaurants. A perfect example is its presence in Netflix’s comedy tv show ‘Kim’s Convenience’ about a Korean family in Canada.

Looking at soju’s video advertising campaigns also suggests an underlying symbolic difference between Korea and foreign markets. For instance, while soju companies (specifically Jinro in the UK) have started sponsoring in-person events and being active on social media with localised sales approaches, video commercials and global ambassadorship strategies seem to have followed a different pattern. Or no pattern at all.

Soju brands, for example, are known for getting actors, idols and tv food personalities as brand ambassadors. A well-established practice with the alcohol industry, the usage of celebrity endorsements allows a brand to establish a degree of trust and tap into the aspirational desires of fans. It can also give those same fans a sense of affordable luxury. That is, if they know and respect the celebrity. 

Within the Korean market, where men drink way more than women, these ambassadors are usually trending female celebrities. The list of recent global icons include IU, Jennie, Suzy and Han So Hee to name a few. In what can look like fashion commercials with the celebrity front and centre, soju in these ads is talked about in a luring or whimsical manner often deploying (seemingly border-line sexual at times?) themes such as purity. 

Although the popularity of those Korean celebrities in wider markets might be somewhat limited to people already familiar with Korean pop culture (which is actually a growing number of people in fact), this advertising strategy does not seem to be widely used by soju brands in foreign markets - at least not in the UK. Not with Korean celebrities nor with foreign celebrities. 

Only once - in my many hours between streaming platforms and linear tv - I came across a sponsored clip about soju. This was so short and insignificant (even for me, a curious viewer) that the only thing I remember is that it was in Korean with English subtitles. That was no symbolism, no storyline, no aspiration: only a green bottle.

Soju’s influence abroad nonetheless keeps on growing. Its appeal goes beyond borders, breaking free from the marketing rules they teach you in business school. One sip at a time, one green bottle at a time, the omnipresence and underlying symbolism of soju in Korean TV and popular culture simply continues to serve as catalysts for its status as an iconic drink abroad. And that is the beauty of it.