In 2019, a torrential rainstorm floods the Kim family’s semi-basement flat in Parasite, forcing them to flee with their few salvaged belongings. Meanwhile, the wealthy Park family sleeps soundly in their hilltop mansion, oblivious to the chaos below. This jarring contrast, which won Bong Joon-ho’s film four Oscars, is more than fiction; it mirrors a world where 1% of the population owns 45% of global wealth. How does a thriller about a scheming poor family resonate so universally? The answer lies in its unflinching dissection of inequality, a theme that bridges cinema and academia.
The architecture of inequality
Parasite’s claustrophobic banjiha (semi-basement flats) and the Parks’ minimalist mansion are characters in themselves. Over 360,000 such units exist in Seoul, often housing low-income families who endure mould, flooding, and a literal “below-ground” social status. Urban studies experts argue this spatial segregation reflects South Korea’s rapid industrialisation, where gleaming high-rises overshadow communities trapped in economic purgatory.
The film’s hidden bunker—a relic of Cold War paranoia—doubles as a metaphor for modern capitalism’s underbelly. “The bunker represents systemic exclusion,” says Dr Lee Soo-jin, an urban geographer at Seoul National University. “It’s where society hides its inconvenient truths: debt, unemployment, and those left behind by neoliberalism.” Globally, parallels abound, from London’s overcrowded flats to Mumbai’s slums.
The psychology of deception
Why do the Kims meticulously impersonate tutors, drivers, and housekeepers? Behavioural economists point to “scarcity mindset”—a cognitive narrowing caused by poverty, where survival trumps ethics. Studies show chronic financial stress reduces IQ by up to 13 points, akin to losing a night’s sleep. The Kims’ scheming isn’t laziness but desperation, a theme echoed in Brazil’s City of God or India’s Slumdog Millionaire.
Psychologists also highlight the toll of deception. The Kims’ constant code-switching—polished accents for the Parks, crude dialects at home—mirrors the “emotional labour” faced by marginalised groups. As Ki-taek snaps, “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan.” His nihilism reflects a generation disillusioned by the myth of meritocracy.
Geopolitical echoes: From Seoul to São Paulo
South Korea’s “economic miracle” birthed conglomerates like Samsung but also entrenched inequality. Youth unemployment hit 22% in 2023, fuelling the Hell Joseon movement, where millennials liken the nation to a feudal kingdom. Parasite’s climax—a violent class clash at a garden party—mirrors real-world unrest, like France’s Yellow Vests protests or Chile’s 2019 uprising.
Globally, neoliberal policies have deepened divides. The OECD ranks South Korea 13th in income inequality, worse than the UK or Japan. Yet director Bong insists the film isn’t “anti-capitalist” but “anti-failure-of-capitalism”—a nuance relevant to debates on universal basic income and corporate tax reforms.
The smell of stigma
“They all smell the same,” complains Mr Park of the Kims’ “damp rag” odour. This olfactory stigma is rooted in reality: a 2020 study found housing conditions significantly alter body odour biomarkers, creating visible—or smellable—class markers. Anthropologists argue such sensory hierarchies perpetuate exclusion, evident in caste systems or racial profiling.
The “smell” motif also ties to environmental injustice. Banjihas face higher flood risks, a crisis worsening with climate change. In 2022, Seoul’s record rainfall displaced 1,000 banjiha residents, spotlighting how poverty compounds vulnerability.
Pathways to equity: Can academia heal the divide?
Parasite offers no easy solutions, but researchers propose actionable fixes. Seoul’s 2023 banjiha renovation scheme, which subsidises insulation and ventilation, reduced respiratory illnesses by 30% in pilot areas. Cooperative housing models, like Barcelona’s social equity apartments, show how design can foster inclusivity.
Psychologists advocate “poverty-aware” therapy to address trauma from economic precarity. Meanwhile, economists champion South Korea’s expanding minimum wage—up 41% since 2018—as a step towards equity.
Towards prevention, not prediction
Here’s where the new model becomes revolutionary. If earthquakes are triggered by water pressure rather than magma, then theoretically, they can be prevented—or at least mitigated. By managing surface runoff, redirecting stormwater, and reducing groundwater through controlled well extractions, the system could be depressurised.
‘We can’t act on the magma, but we do have the power to manage the water,’ Vanorio said. Her vision is a proactive one: just as public health focuses on prevention, Earth sciences should focus on managing risk before disaster unfolds.
Beyond the screen
Parasite ends with Ki-woo dreaming of buying the Park mansion, a naive fantasy in a rigged system. Yet the film’s global success proves stories about inequality resonate—if told compellingly. As governments grapple with AI-driven job displacement and climate migration, academia must bridge theory and public discourse.
Could your research address an invisible “bunker” in your community? If the Kims and Parks represent today’s divided world, what bridges must we build to avoid a bloody garden party?
SEO Keywords: Parasite class analysis, banjiha mental health, South Korea income inequality, urban spatial segregation, scarcity mindset psychology, neoliberalism film critique, universal basic income debate.
