Digital Feminism and the Politics of Surveillance

Introduction In South Korea, feminism went viral. In a society often described as hyperconnected yet deeply patriarchal, online spaces became battlegrounds for visibility, safety, and power. The rise of “digital feminism” is inseparable from the politics of surveillance: women’s bodies filmed without consent, shared online in hidden-camera (molka) pornography, and resisted through hashtags, protests, and digital solidarity.

This essay examines South Korea’s feminist movements in the digital age. It argues that the politics of surveillance - who watches, who is watched, and who controls visibility - has reshaped both oppression and resistance. Digital feminism, far from being marginal, reveals the contradictions of a society where technology empowers and endangers women simultaneously.

Molka and the Regime of the Gaze “Molka” - literally “secret camera” - refers to the epidemic of hidden-camera pornography in South Korea. Cameras concealed in bathrooms, hotels, schools, and subways capture women without their knowledge; footage is then uploaded to illicit websites. The numbers are staggering: tens of thousands of cases reported annually, with countless more unreported.

This is not merely voyeurism; it is systemic surveillance. Women live with the anxiety that every space is potentially unsafe, every private moment potentially public. Feminist theorist Laura Mulvey described cinema as producing a “male gaze.” In South Korea, that gaze has metastasized into everyday life - democratized, digitized, monetized.

From Victimization to Resistance The politics of surveillance sparked a new wave of feminist activism. In 2018, tens of thousands of women marched in Seoul carrying banners that read: “My Life Is Not Your Porn.” These protests were among the largest women-led demonstrations in South Korean history.

Digital activism amplified the protests. Hashtags like #MeToo, #WithYou, and #StopMolka created spaces where survivors shared stories and demanded accountability. Online forums became organizing hubs, not just for venting anger but for coordinating marches, drafting petitions, and sharing legal resources.

Here, the digital sphere functioned paradoxically: the same technologies that enabled surveillance also enabled resistance. The camera, once weapon, became evidence. The hashtag, once trivial, became mobilization.

Generational and Cultural Shifts Digital feminism in South Korea marks a generational shift. Younger women, often dismissed as “too radical,” challenged not only molka crimes but also military conscription, wage inequality, and marriage expectations. Online communities such as Megalia and Womad - controversial for their militancy - nevertheless forced feminist issues into mainstream debate.

The backlash was fierce. Online harassment, threats, and stigmatization of feminists intensified. Politicians and media frequently dismissed activists as “man-haters.” Yet the very ferocity of backlash confirmed the disruptive power of digital feminism. It exposed the fault lines of gender politics in a society negotiating rapid modernization with entrenched patriarchy.

Surveillance Capitalism and Gendered Labor Beyond molka, South Korea’s digital feminism points to broader questions of surveillance capitalism. Tech companies profit from clicks on pornographic content, while women bear the costs of privacy violations. Moderation systems often fail to remove content swiftly, effectively outsourcing the burden of protection to victims.

Feminist critiques reveal how gendered labor is exploited twice: first, through non-consensual exposure; second, through the emotional and legal labor required to fight it. Resistance, therefore, is not only moral but also economic - demanding that platforms, states, and corporations be held accountable.

Global Resonances South Korea’s digital feminism resonates far beyond its borders.

• In France and Germany, debates on online harassment (#BalanceTonPorc, #MeToo) echo similar struggles to regulate digital violence.

• In Latin America, digital platforms amplify feminist chants like “Ni Una Menos”, creating viral waves of solidarity.

• In Vietnam, while state censorship limits online mobilization, digital feminism surfaces in creative ways - through art, memes, and coded language.

These resonances reveal that digital feminism is not a “South Korean anomaly” but part of a global transformation: feminism as both enabled and endangered by technology.

The Paradox of Visibility At the heart of digital feminism lies a paradox. Visibility is both power and vulnerability. To speak out online is to risk harassment; to remain silent is to disappear. To march in the streets is to be photographed, archived, surveilled.

Feminist politics thus confronts a double bind: demanding visibility while resisting its violence. The challenge is not to escape surveillance entirely - impossible in digital modernity - but to reclaim visibility on feminist terms.

Toward a Feminist Digital Future What might feminist digital futures look like? They would require not only stronger laws but also reimagined technologies. Platforms designed around care rather than profit. Algorithms that prioritize safety over virality. Digital spaces that amplify marginalized voices without exposing them to disproportionate harm.

But futures are not built overnight. For now, the work of South Korean feminists demonstrates that even under regimes of surveillance, resistance can thrive. Every protest march, every viral hashtag, every testimony uploaded online becomes part of a collective archive - a rhythm of defiance in the digital age.

Conclusion Digital feminism in South Korea is born from the contradictions of hyperconnectivity: the same networks that exploit women also empower them. Molka crimes made visible the violence of surveillance; feminist movements made visible the power of resistance.

In reimagining feminism as a politics of surveillance, South Korea teaches a global lesson: technology is never neutral. It can reproduce patriarchy or disrupt it - depending on whose hands hold the camera, and whose voices claim the screen.

The question for global feminism is not whether to go digital, but how. The challenge is to transform the politics of visibility from a site of exploitation into a site of solidarity - where being seen no longer means being violated, but being recognized.