One recent Saturday in August, in the middle of a heatwave with the temperature hitting 35 degrees, 70,000 women gathered in the streets of Seoul. The numbers were unprecedented, but the action wasn’t. They have been staging regular rallies since May, in what has been called the biggest recorded women’s movement in South Korea’s history. The women, many wearing masks and some bearing signs declaring “My life is not your porn”, were gathering to protest molka – the use of hidden cameras.

Long hours and a lot of pressure. That’s a fact of life for Laode Syarif (PhD (Law) ’08), who is one of only five anti-corruption commissioners in Indonesia’s Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (Corruption Eradication Commission), or KPK. “It is a very dangerous job,” Syarif says. “It affects my life a lot – not just for myself but my family and even my mum. My sons, when they go to school, they must be accompanied by police officers every day.”

American broadcaster Edward Murrow, lamenting the viewing habits of the population in the 1950s, paraphrased Karl Marx: “If television and radio are to be used to entertain all of the people all of the time, then we have come perilously close to discovering the real opiate of the people.” More than half a century later and a cultural world away, Xi Jinping would agree. He and the Chinese Communist Party are on a mission to reduce “toxic” entertainment in the lives of their people, and their wea

A couple snuggles together on a couch in a softly lit apartment. They skip on a beach in slow motion, holding hands. A melancholy R&B song plays, the singer croons softly, “never mind I’m in Neverland”, as they stare moodily in opposite directions. Back at home, they’re making up. Lying in bed, they reach out to each other and kiss passionately. There’s a twist to this romantic but seen-it-all- before scenario: the couple are two handsome young men, and one them is South Korea’s self-proclaimed first gay K-pop idol.

When Donald Trump was elected US President, many pronounced satire dead. The twitter hashtag #nottheonion, a reference to the satirical news website, grew more common with every outlandish tweet and unpredictable decision from America’s new leader. But to paraphrase one of the country’s most revered authors, Mark Twain, rumours of satire’s death proved grossly exaggerated.

As an idol, Jonghyun showed a real warmth and connection with the public. It’s horrifying to learn that he was being suffocated by feelings of worthlessness and despair. That he fled life because his own reality was so bleak he saw no other way out. That he did not know there was a way out. (There is a way out.) To think of a world without him is almost unbearable.

A year is not a long time in the life of a country, but it is long enough to unite and create a wave of dissent that writes itself into history. Change is not always easy. The women of South Korea, young and old, are doing their best to make sure there is a change for good.