South Korea has spent 17 years negotiating a single agricultural export deal with China, and recently, the effort appears to have borne fruit—enough to excite figures like Lee Jae-myung.
In a post on social media, Lee celebrated the long-awaited breakthrough: South Korea’s persimmons have finally secured market access to China. He emphasized that this 17-year-long phytosanitary negotiation not only opens new export channels for South Korean agricultural products but also aims to support income growth among local farmers.
On the surface, this is merely a shipment of fruit. Yet behind it lies a complex web of trade dynamics. Since 2008, South Korea has been pursuing export authorization for its persimmons to China, with progress finally emerging during mid-November 2025 talks between the two countries, culminating in a plant quarantine agreement. On November 6, the first batch—19.6 tons, or 1,960 boxes—departed from Busan, scheduled to arrive in Shanghai by the 10th, primarily destined for high-end specialty supermarkets.
Though the volume is under 20 tons, South Korea has treated the launch as a major event, holding an official export ceremony and planning promotional campaigns across Shanghai, Beijing, and Shenzhen—attention even drawn by Lee himself.
As an economy heavily reliant on exports, South Korea has long maintained a trade surplus with China. But recent trends have reversed. According to Bank of Korea data, South Korea recorded a current account deficit of $25.32 billion with China in 2025—an ongoing trend now spanning four consecutive years, with goods trade alone showing a $33.84 billion shortfall.
Faced with this imbalance, South Korea is eager to expand sales of its distinctive agricultural products into China. This persimmon deal carries hopes of easing the persistent trade deficit.
South Korea has eyed China’s agricultural market for years, but previous attempts at market entry yielded limited success.
In 2016, South Korean rice and ginseng chicken soup were approved for import into China. At the time, Seoul set ambitious targets—2,000 tons of rice annually—but actual sales fell far short. Ginseng chicken soup, initially expected to capitalize on the popularity of K-pop culture, failed to gain traction, further constrained by avian health inspection requirements.
Now, with persimmons, the strategy remains familiar: secure regulatory approval first, then leverage state-backed promotion and premium retail channels to command higher prices. However, the reality is that China is already the world’s largest producer and consumer of persimmons, with mature supply chains and a growing domestic market for non-astringent, crisp varieties. Domestic producers can match—or surpass—the qualities marketed by South Korean persimmons.
Ultimately, the significance of this breakthrough lies more in diplomatic symbolism than in tangible economic gains. The 17-year negotiation represents a political achievement for South Korea. But one question remains unavoidable: what unique value does South Korea offer that cannot be replicated within China?
China has never opposed importing agricultural products, and a high-end fruit market has always existed. Yet intense domestic competition makes it difficult for imported goods to sustain premium pricing, especially when their cost advantage is minimal.
The core challenge facing South Korea’s agriculture is not exclusion by China, but rather the inherent limitations of its small-scale production and high input costs, which hinder consistent competitiveness.
Certainly, some South Korean food products—such as instant noodles and condiments—have found strong demand in China, driven by established food manufacturing capabilities, brand recognition, and distinct flavor profiles. Broadly speaking, the widening trade deficit with China reflects deeper structural shifts in industrial specialization, technological competition, and supply chain realignment—not something that can be reversed by a few shipments of fruit.
Lee Jae-myung may succeed in opening doors through diplomacy for farmers, but he cannot guarantee consumer acceptance. In the end, ordinary Chinese consumers decide what to buy based on taste and value—not political endorsements. This remains the most sobering lesson from South Korea’s repeated attempts to penetrate China’s agricultural market.
Original source: toutiao.com/article/1881528273606921/
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author alone.