Indeed, the first few days out of quarantine, I savored every moment of freedom a relatively COVID-free society offered, on one occasion tearing up in a packed, fully masked subway. Getting tracked was an inconvenience, but small sacrifices like this (and masking) made it possible for everyone in the country to enjoy a fairly normal daily life without worrying about the threat of the virus. had their first reported cases of COVID-19 on the same day, yet Korea had managed to do so much during the time so many of us in the U.S. I was astounded by how Korea and the U.S. During the two weeks of quarantine in my parent’s house, I was GPS-tracked through my phone and assigned a local government worker who would call me every few days. It was against the backdrop of this internationally-praised contact-tracing program that I decided to return to Korea, a decision I made after fruitlessly attempting to wait out the pandemic on a deserted campus. But amid the panic of an uncontrollable, deadly virus, none of this truly registered. On reflection, there is something deeply unsettling about the raids and the protocols they led to. Every time someone tested positive, a text alert was sent to everyone in the locality, informing them of all the places the COVID-positive person had visited since exposure. Korea also developed a more aggressive testing and tracing strategy to prevent another Shincheonji nightmare. When the government launched a manhunt based on the names of the 212,000 Shincheonji members the church handed over, the public consensus was that it was necessary. Patient 31 and other COVID-positive church-goers were evasive and opaque about their whereabouts, which came at a heavy cost to public health. Instead, indoctrination happened more subtly and gradually. There were accounts that for months, church leaders would not mention the word Shincheonji to the new recruits of the sect, probably out of concern that the stigma associated with the name would turn off new members. Members were not allowed to talk about the church to outsiders, not even to friends and family. But secrecy was at the heart of the Shincheonji doctrine. Early in the pandemic, when not much was known about the virus, patient cooperation with authorities was key to curbing the spread. Even their victims didn’t get much sympathy - after all, some of the most devout Shincheonji followers were once naive pedestrians.Īs many outlets noted, it was no coincidence that a member of Shincheonji managed to poke a gaping hole in Korea’s relatively robust contact-tracing system. After a few exposés of Shincheonji street recruitment tactics that trended on social media, most Koreans spurned Shincheonji members, considered no more spiritual than lowly scammers. The convention was to avoid engaging with these people even if you thought you could outsmart them.