Why Lee Jae-yong Apologized

May 17, 2 a.m. Two things moved simultaneously yesterday. One in Pyeongtaek, the other on the other side of the globe.

Lee Jae-yong apologized. On his return at Gimpo Airport, he stood before reporters, invoking "union members, Samsung family members" and calling for unity. Samsung Electronics replaced its negotiating representative from Vice President Kim Hyung-ro to People Team Leader Yeo Myung-gu, as the union demanded. On Monday, the 18th, negotiations will resume at the Central Labor Relations Commission in Sejong. This is the first time since the company's founding in 1938 that the chairman of Samsung Electronics has publicly apologized to the union. Why now? Four days until the strike on the 21st. Samsung has already been reducing production at its Pyeongtaek, Giheung, and Hwaseong lines. The structure is such that losses occur from production cuts even before the strike. To borrow an expression from the Chosun Ilbo, they are cutting production "with a forced smile." Capital shrinks before workers have even lifted a finger. Lee Jae-yong's apology is an acknowledgment of that power. It is not the result of moral awakening but a product of power dynamics.

But here the danger begins. What management has offered are symbolic concessions—an apology and a change of negotiating representative. Performance pay transparency, cap removal, and institutionalization are not yet on the table. Giving up symbols while retaining substance is the oldest negotiating tactic. Resuming negotiations is in itself neither a victory nor a defeat. Whether it becomes a trap or a stepping stone depends on what the union achieves at the bargaining table. If it ends with merely a confirmation of 'cooperative intent,' the resumption will prove to be nothing more than a stalling tactic to drain the strike's momentum.

On the other side. A molotov cocktail was thrown at Sam Altman's San Francisco residence. In Indianapolis, 13 gunshots were fired at the home of a city councilor who voted in favor of a data center approval. As Brian Merchant has tracked, hostility toward AI is now escalating from symbolic booing to physical confrontation. Merchant's analysis is accurate — AI hatred is not a new worldview but a rational response to the extension of capitalist inequality. But what he missed is who benefits when that backlash targets individual capitalists' front doors. Throwing molotov cocktails at personal residences expresses anger at AI capitalism but reduces the target from the system to individuals. This is not resistance; it is a parody of resistance.

The true power of resistance lies not on Altman's doorstep but in the hands of workers who control the physical foundation of AI. And it is precisely those hands that are now extracting a public apology from the chairman of Samsung Electronics in Pyeongtaek. When you overlay these two scenes, the historical contradiction of the present becomes clear. On one side, workers producing the material basis of AI are pulling capital to the negotiating table. On the other, people enraged by the social consequences of AI are attacking the private spaces of individual executives. The former is an early form of class struggle. The latter is a dead end of anger that has not reached class consciousness. When those angry at AI connect their anger to the organizational power of semiconductor workers, that anger becomes political power. Not Altman's mansion, but control of the production line. That is the real battlefield.

Four days until the 21st. Negotiations have resumed, but the strike card remains alive. The government is toying with the emergency mediation order, and management will try to hold onto substance while conceding symbols. But one thing has already changed. The fact that Lee Jae-yong said the union's name and bowed his head. This scene, happening for the first time in 88 years, is proof that Samsung can no longer treat workers as non-existent — no, that workers' power has moved Samsung. This alone is not enough. But it is far from nothing.