For Whom Does the Ant Fight?
At 2 AM today, a comrade on the web chat asked: "Why do domestic stock investors buy when foreign investors sell?" The question was simple, but the answer reveals the most sophisticated self-defense mechanism of Korea's comprador-monopoly capitalism.
Let's look at the numbers. On May 4, the KOSPI broke 7,000 for the first time in history. Foreigners net bought 6 trillion won over two days, pushing the index up. Then, from May 7 to 13, over six trading days, foreigners net sold 26.2 trillion won. During the same period, individual investors net bought 23.4 trillion won. Individuals bought as much as foreigners sold. The result? The KOSPI did not crash. As of today, May 23, it stands at 7,847—actually higher. These six trading days are the 2026 version of the "Donghak Ant" phenomenon. The same pattern repeated during the 2020 COVID crash, the 2024 martial law crisis, and after the 2026 breach of 7,000.
What needs to be analyzed here is not simply supply and demand. It is the gap between the meaning individual investors assign to their actions and the objective function of those actions. Individual investors perceive foreign selling as "an attack by foreign forces" and interpret their own buying as a patriotic act of "market defense." It is a narrative of "we are protecting it." But what exactly does this narrative protect? From the logic of capital, the answer is clear. Individual buying provides exit liquidity for foreigners. It allows foreigners to sell at higher prices and with greater stability. If individuals did not buy, foreigners would have had to sell at lower prices or hold their positions. Objectively, the "resistance" of the Donghak Ants functions to assist the exit strategy of international finance capital. The form of resistance realizes the content of co-optation.
At a deeper level, this is the survival mechanism of comprador-monopoly capitalism. The Korean economy is structurally vulnerable to the inflow and outflow of foreign capital. The 1997 foreign exchange crisis, the 2008 financial crisis—historically, sudden capital flight has shaken the entire Korean economy. But since 2020, the system has acquired a new buffer: the mass layer of "patriotic individual investors." The sophistication of this buffer lies in the fact that it operates not through coercion but through voluntary conviction. Individual investors genuinely believe they are "fighting against foreign forces." The more sincere the belief, the greater the buffering effect. The state and capital no longer need to suppress individual resistance; resistance itself functions as the system's shock absorber.
At this point, the Donghak Ant phenomenon shares the same structural principle as Disneyland or employee stock ownership. Capitalism responds to resistance in two ways: suppression or absorption. The Donghak Ants are close to the latter's apex. Individuals feel they are "fighting" in the financial market, but the rules of the fight are set by capital, and the outcome reinforces capital's stability. This is the material basis of what Gramsci called hegemony: making the ruled class practice the interests of the ruling class as their own. But in the case of the Donghak Ants, the practice takes the form of "antagonism," which is the paradox. I am fighting foreign capital—precisely that belief makes me the most efficient counterparty for foreign capital.
The tactical implication of this analysis is clear. Telling the Donghak Ants, "You are the pawns of capital," is not only meaningless but harmful. They do not feel that way, and their subjective experience is real. What is needed is not to deny that experience but to show its objective consequences. Even with 23 trillion won mobilized by individuals, Samsung Electronics' management control did not move a millimeter. Foreigners sold at the price they wanted when they wanted to sell. Your resistance only made the system run more smoothly. This realization is not a condemnation but a starting point for liberation. If your anger is real, the next question should be: who sets the rules of this game? And where must we fight to change them?
Let's look at the numbers. On May 4, the KOSPI broke 7,000 for the first time in history. Foreigners net bought 6 trillion won over two days, pushing the index up. Then, from May 7 to 13, over six trading days, foreigners net sold 26.2 trillion won. During the same period, individual investors net bought 23.4 trillion won. Individuals bought as much as foreigners sold. The result? The KOSPI did not crash. As of today, May 23, it stands at 7,847—actually higher. These six trading days are the 2026 version of the "Donghak Ant" phenomenon. The same pattern repeated during the 2020 COVID crash, the 2024 martial law crisis, and after the 2026 breach of 7,000.
What needs to be analyzed here is not simply supply and demand. It is the gap between the meaning individual investors assign to their actions and the objective function of those actions. Individual investors perceive foreign selling as "an attack by foreign forces" and interpret their own buying as a patriotic act of "market defense." It is a narrative of "we are protecting it." But what exactly does this narrative protect? From the logic of capital, the answer is clear. Individual buying provides exit liquidity for foreigners. It allows foreigners to sell at higher prices and with greater stability. If individuals did not buy, foreigners would have had to sell at lower prices or hold their positions. Objectively, the "resistance" of the Donghak Ants functions to assist the exit strategy of international finance capital. The form of resistance realizes the content of co-optation.
At a deeper level, this is the survival mechanism of comprador-monopoly capitalism. The Korean economy is structurally vulnerable to the inflow and outflow of foreign capital. The 1997 foreign exchange crisis, the 2008 financial crisis—historically, sudden capital flight has shaken the entire Korean economy. But since 2020, the system has acquired a new buffer: the mass layer of "patriotic individual investors." The sophistication of this buffer lies in the fact that it operates not through coercion but through voluntary conviction. Individual investors genuinely believe they are "fighting against foreign forces." The more sincere the belief, the greater the buffering effect. The state and capital no longer need to suppress individual resistance; resistance itself functions as the system's shock absorber.
At this point, the Donghak Ant phenomenon shares the same structural principle as Disneyland or employee stock ownership. Capitalism responds to resistance in two ways: suppression or absorption. The Donghak Ants are close to the latter's apex. Individuals feel they are "fighting" in the financial market, but the rules of the fight are set by capital, and the outcome reinforces capital's stability. This is the material basis of what Gramsci called hegemony: making the ruled class practice the interests of the ruling class as their own. But in the case of the Donghak Ants, the practice takes the form of "antagonism," which is the paradox. I am fighting foreign capital—precisely that belief makes me the most efficient counterparty for foreign capital.
The tactical implication of this analysis is clear. Telling the Donghak Ants, "You are the pawns of capital," is not only meaningless but harmful. They do not feel that way, and their subjective experience is real. What is needed is not to deny that experience but to show its objective consequences. Even with 23 trillion won mobilized by individuals, Samsung Electronics' management control did not move a millimeter. Foreigners sold at the price they wanted when they wanted to sell. Your resistance only made the system run more smoothly. This realization is not a condemnation but a starting point for liberation. If your anger is real, the next question should be: who sets the rules of this game? And where must we fight to change them?