Introduction
As smartphone screens scroll endlessly through TikTok Shorts and Instagram Reels, a quiet revolution is unfolding in Korean advertising agencies. The currency is no longer airtime—it's attention, measured in milliseconds. And in this hyper-compressed economy of glances and swipes, Professor Seungchul Yoo argues that brevity doesn't dilute sophistication—it demands it.
On a brisk January morning at Ewha Womans University, Professor Yoo—flanked by a towering stack of his latest book, Content and Advertising in the Short-Form Era—speaks with the precision of a scholar and the urgency of a strategist. Published by Hakjisa Business and co-authored by nine leading voices in advertising and media psychology, the 304-page volume is both a manifesto and a manual for marketers navigating the 15-second gauntlet.
"Consumer attention is no longer something to be acquired. It is something to be competed for—constantly, ruthlessly, in real time."
The Death of the Captive Audience
The numbers are stark. TikTok boasts over 1 billion monthly active users. Instagram Reels and YouTube Shorts collectively command billions more. In South Korea alone, short-form video consumption has surged by 340% since 2020, according to the Korea Communications Commission.
But it's not just the volume that matters—it's the velocity. The average user scrolls past a piece of content in 1.7 seconds. Brands have, at best, 15 seconds to arrest that thumb, trigger an emotion, and etch themselves into memory.
"The captive audience is dead. Brands that treat short-form as 'mini TV commercials' are already obsolete. This isn't about trimming a 30-second spot. It's about reimagining narrative architecture from the ground up."
Emotional Density: The New Currency
At the heart of Yoo's thesis is a concept he calls "emotional density"—the concentration of affective impact within the smallest possible temporal unit. It's not about how long you hold attention, but how deeply you penetrate it.
"Think of it as narrative compression. A haiku isn't a failed novel. It's a different genre with its own grammar. Short-form isn't inferior—it's a distinct communicative form that privileges immediacy over elaboration."
The book dissects this grammar across ten chapters, blending advertising theory, media psychology, and data analytics. One chapter, co-authored with Professor Kim Min-jung of Seoul National University, examines how micro-gestures—a half-second pause, a sudden zoom, a bass drop—can modulate dopamine release and amplify brand recall by up to 43%.
Another chapter, contributed by Dr. Lee Hyun-soo of Yonsei University, explores the neuropsychology of "scroll reflexes"—the subconscious motor patterns that govern swipe behavior. The findings are startling: brands that align their visual rhythm with these reflexes see engagement rates triple.
The Algorithm vs. The Brand: A False Choice
Yoo is quick to push back against a common industry lament: that algorithms have "killed" brand storytelling.
"That's a cop-out. Algorithms don't suppress creativity—they redistribute it. The brands that thrive on TikTok aren't the ones with the biggest budgets. They're the ones that understand participation as a design principle."
He cites the case of Daiso Korea, the discount retail chain, which leveraged user-generated content (UGC) to transform mundane product demos into viral challenges. By embedding hooks—unexpected product uses, ASMR unboxing sounds, nostalgia triggers—Daiso turned customers into co-creators. Within six months, the brand's TikTok following grew from 12,000 to 2.3 million, with zero paid promotion.
"Algorithmic visibility isn't a lottery. It's a reward for content that generates genuine interaction. Likes are cheap. Comments, shares, stitches—those signal emotional investment. And that's what platforms amplify."
Participation as Co-Creation
This shift toward participatory branding is a recurring theme in the book. Yoo and his co-authors argue that short-form platforms have fundamentally altered the contract between brands and consumers. Viewing is no longer passive consumption—it's an invitation to collaborate.
"Every TikTok video is a template. Brands that succeed understand this. They don't just create content—they create scaffolds for remixing, riffing, and reinterpreting."
He points to Hyundai's "EV Sounds" campaign, which invited users to compose 15-second soundtracks for the IONIQ 6 electric vehicle. The best submissions were featured in official ads, blurring the line between brand authorship and community creativity. The campaign generated 4.7 million views and a 28% lift in purchase intent among Gen Z audiences.
"Participation isn't a gimmick. It's a form of co-ownership. When consumers shape the narrative, they invest emotionally. And that investment translates into loyalty."
The Korean Advantage
Why are Korean brands particularly adept at short-form storytelling? Yoo attributes it to cultural fluency in visual shorthand.
"Korean pop culture—K-pop, K-dramas, webtoons—has been honing the art of compressed narrative for decades. A three-minute music video tells a complete emotional arc. A webtoon panel conveys character depth with a single glance. That discipline translates seamlessly to TikTok."
He also credits Korea's "ppalli ppalli" (hurry hurry) culture—a societal impatience that prizes efficiency and rapid iteration.
"Korean agencies can prototype, test, and pivot in days, not months. That agility is a massive competitive advantage in a platform environment where trends die in 72 hours."
Memory Over Metrics
But Yoo is wary of over-indexing on vanity metrics. Views and likes, he argues, are outputs—not outcomes.
"What matters is memory encoding. Did the viewer remember your brand 24 hours later? Did they feel something distinctive? That's the real ROI."
To that end, the book introduces a "Brand Memory Index" (BMI)—a proprietary metric that combines dwell time, emotional arousal (measured via facial coding), and post-view recall. Early pilot studies suggest that BMI correlates more strongly with purchase behavior than traditional engagement metrics.
"The industry is addicted to quantity. Millions of impressions mean nothing if they're forgettable. We need to shift the conversation from reach to resonance."
Conclusion: Precision Over Length
As our conversation winds down, Yoo reflects on the broader implications of the short-form shift.
"This isn't just about TikTok. It's about a fundamental recalibration of how humans process information. We're living in an attention recession. Brands that survive will be the ones that respect that scarcity—that deliver meaning in microseconds."
He pauses, then adds with a wry smile:
"Ironically, the brands that master short-form will be the ones that build long-term equity. Because memorability compounds. A 15-second video that lodges in your brain is worth a thousand 60-second ads that don't."
As I leave his office, I glance back at the book on his desk. Its cover is stark—bold sans-serif type on a black background, no imagery. It's a perfect embodiment of his thesis: clarity over clutter, precision over length.
In the 15-second battlefield, that might just be the winning strategy.
References
This article is based on an interview with Professor Seungchul Yoo and his book Content and Advertising in the Short-Form Era (Hakjisa Business, 2025). Original Korean coverage: Kyosu News.
