The Travel News ㅣ Jungchan Lee/Publisher
When Airbnb co-founder and CEO Brian Chesky took the stage in Seoul, it was a masterclass in global branding. Flanked by SEVENTEEN, one of K-pop’s most celebrated groups, Chesky unveiled a sparkling Airbnb Experience—complete with lights, tunnels, recording booths, and curated nostalgia. The event celebrated 10 years of SEVENTEEN and reaffirmed Airbnb’s love affair with Korean pop culture. But as the cameras flashed and hashtags trended, a quieter question emerged: where was Korea?
More precisely—where were Korea’s people? The hosts, the travel creators, the local entrepreneurs who built the very foundation Airbnb thrives on?
The Seoul event was part of Chesky’s global tour, following stops in Paris, Berlin, Milan, and Tokyo. Here, sixty Airbnb fans were invited to an exclusive in-person encounter with SEVENTEEN. It was billed as an intimate cultural connection. Yet, those who make up the fabric of Korea’s travel landscape were notably left out. No local tour operators, no community hosts, no sign of regional collaboration.
Airbnb often describes itself as a platform that “connects the world.” But in Seoul, it connected brand and celebrity, spectacle and social media. The city itself—the people, the community, the industry—was barely present.
This is not a criticism of SEVENTEEN. Their global appeal and fan devotion are undeniable. Nor is it a rejection of emotional marketing. In fact, Airbnb’s strength lies in designing experiences that speak to emotion, not just function. But when emotion becomes theater, and collaboration becomes curation, the risk is clear: the platform turns participatory culture into passive spectacle.
The irony deepens when we consider Airbnb’s prior commitment to voluntarily comply with Korea’s lodging registration system. Market-friendly as it may seem, this move was less about local partnership and more about preempting regulation—positioning the brand as compliant, but not necessarily collaborative.
If Airbnb truly believes in the power of hospitality, it missed a chance to show it. Imagine a different kind of experience: one where Airbnb co-hosted a tour for mobility-challenged travelers to Seoul’s historic sites. Or a workshop with Korean hosts showcasing hidden cultural gems. That would have transcended content—it would have built community. That is the kind of story that doesn’t need a tunnel of lights to shine.
Of course, the onus doesn’t rest solely on Airbnb. Korean tourism policy has long focused on numbers over narratives, attraction over inclusion. The media, too, has often echoed global campaigns without critique. In that vacuum, global platforms shape the stage, and we become the audience in our own country.
So we must ask: Is Korea Airbnb’s strategic market—or just its strategic showroom? Is this a relationship—or a backdrop?
Platforms are not remembered for what they sell, but for what they stand for. Airbnb has the power to redefine global hospitality—not through celebrity, but through sincerity.
Because in the end, the most meaningful journeys begin when someone opens a door.
Right now, in Seoul, Airbnb built a stage.
It remains to be seen whether they will open the door.
