Walk down any street in central Seoul and you might well spot a familiar academic emblem adorning an unlikely organisation¡¯²õ signage: Seoul National University¡¯²õ illuminating a neighbourhood clinic; Korea University¡¯²õ snarling from a law firm; Yonsei University¡¯²õ reminding a cram school¡¯²õ young customers of the light that shines at the end of the university admissions tunnel.

The logos of the nation¡¯²õ top three universities ¨C collectively known as ¡°SKY¡± ¨C can also be found on exam prep books, pharmacies, private academies and even on hospitals and dental offices, especially in the capital city, where all three SKY universities ¨C plus the prep industry that has grown up around getting students into them ¨C are based.

This widespread and unofficial use of SKY logos speaks volumes about the prestige attached to them ¨C and how deeply stratified higher education has imprinted itself on Korean society. The seals have become a folk shorthand for excellence and trustworthiness. And that rests on the fact that SKY admission is fiercely competitive, with entry long seen as a golden ticket to a lifetime of success.

French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu famously coined the term ¡°cultural capital¡± to describe how certain qualities and credentials act as currency in society. In South Korea, a diploma from a SKY university is perhaps the ultimate form of institutionalised cultural capital: one facet of the country¡¯²õ well-known ¡°education fever¡±. Parents, students and consumers are keenly aware of the hierarchy of universities ¨C often referred to as . And the SKY institutions sit unquestionably at the top.

51³Ô¹Ï

The omnipresence of their iconography has not gone unnoticed by the universities themselves, and they are aware that this could dilute the logos¡¯ impact through over-familiarity ¨C or even harm their institutional reputations if the service provided under that logo is subpar.

SNU, in particular, has struggled with this issue. According to a local news report, there have been 787 reported cases of misuse of its logo by 409 distinct businesses over the past five years. Tellingly, a vast majority (94 per cent) of these violations were by medical establishments; an SNU logo on a neighbourhood clinic is so common that patients often assume ¨C not always correctly ¨C that the doctor trained at SNU Medical School.

51³Ô¹Ï

Under South Korean law, a university¡¯²õ logo is the intellectual property of the school (managed by its foundation), so using it for commercial purposes requires formal authorisation. However, the sheer number of small businesses invoking SKY prestige presents an enforcement nightmare.

The power of elite university branding is not uniquely Korean, of course. In the US, for example, the names and symbols of Ivy League universities also carry enormous cachet. It¡¯²õ not uncommon to find tutoring companies named ¡°Ivy League Tutoring¡± or college counsellors advertising their elite educational pedigrees ¨C all leveraging the Ivy mystique to attract clients. It is not a surprise that the HYPSM (Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford and MIT) brand, in particular, is so powerful among international students. Similarly in the UK, the aura of Oxford and Cambridge is regularly used in branding for tutoring centres, language schools and admissions consulting.

What sets the Korean case apart, however, is how visible and socially accepted this branding practice is on a much broader scale. Seeing Harvard or Oxford¡¯²õ actual logo on a random private institute¡¯²õ sign would be unusual, but in South Korea the SKY logos have almost become a shared language of aspiration, plastered without permission on street corners and subway billboards without much surprise or scandal.

On the one hand, this speaks to the admirable premium that Koreans place on education. While the populist, anti-elitist turn in many developed countries ¨C not least the US ¨C is causing populations increasingly to look askance at their top universities ¨C and at higher education in general ¨C Koreans continue to cling to the idea that the best schools represent the best in life.

51³Ô¹Ï

Needless to say, an overly stratified view of education has its pitfalls. When cram schools and clinics feel ever more compelled to borrow the lustre of a top university to prove their worth, it could indicate a gathering collective belief that only the elite label guarantees excellence.

It could also indicate an unhealthy fixation on brand-name pedigree at the expense of other measures of merit. Indeed, in some cases, those alternative measures of merit can include education itself. In the worst-case scenario, which is not so far from the truth, degrees are revered, coveted and commodified to such an extent that their content does not even particularly matter.

The question, then, is whether this amounts to a healthier mindset than other populations¡¯ growing suspicion of the value of degrees and expertise.

In both cases, a dose of realism and a sense of perspective are what is really needed.

51³Ô¹Ï

?(email?ks.kyuseok.kim@gmail.com)?is a?PhD candidate at?Korea University?and centre director at IES Seoul.