Written by Kim from All About K-Content
Only months ago, actress Ha Young (하영) seemed to be in the middle of a major career breakthrough.
After making her drama debut in Doctor Prisoner in 2019 and appearing in various series including Extraordinary Attorney Woo and Doona!, she gained much wider recognition as nurse Cheon Jang-mi in Netflix’s 2025 medical hit The Trauma Code: Heroes on Call. The role earned her a Best New Actress award at the APAN Star Awards and helped turn her into a familiar face among international K-drama viewers.
Then came 2026.
She appeared in Boyfriend on Demand before taking a small but crucial role in Netflix’s Teach You a Lesson (참교육) as Choi Ga-yoon, a high school teacher, the fiancée of Kim Moo-yul’s Na Hwa-jin and the daughter of the education minister. Although her screen time was limited, Ga-yoon’s fate becomes one of the emotional forces driving the story.
Teach You a Lesson went on to become one of Netflix Korea’s biggest releases of the summer, holding No. 1 on Netflix’s Global Top 10 Non-English TV chart for two consecutive weeks and reaching the Top 10 in 91 countries.
By August, Ha Young had landed her first romantic-comedy lead opposite Jung Hae-in in Netflix’s Our Sticky Love (이런 엿 같은 사랑).
And then, during a television appearance intended to promote that drama, a seemingly harmless story about her family changed the conversation around her almost overnight.
A Story About “Four Generations of Doctors”
On August 7, 2026, Ha Young and Jung Hae-in appeared on KBS2 variety show Problem Child in House (옥탑방의 문제아들).
During the program, Ha Young proudly spoke about coming from what was described as a four-generation medical family.
Her great-grandfather had been a doctor. So had her grandfather and father, while her older sister also became a physician.
Ha Young explained that, her great-grandfather had studied Western medicine in Japan before returning to Korea, where he became one of the country's earliest doctors to open a Western-style medical clinic. The program also highlighted his connection to the royal family, including his treatment of Emperor Gojong (1852 - 1919).
Taken on its own, it sounded like the sort of impressive family anecdote that regularly appears on Korean variety programs.
A rising actress from an accomplished family. Four generations of doctors. A great-grandfather connected to the Korean royal court.
But viewers soon began asking a different question.
Who exactly was her great-grandfather?
Viewers Identified Him as Ahn Sang-ho
Ha Young had not named him during the broadcast, but details about his medical career led viewers and media outlets to identify her great-grandfather as Ahn Sang-ho (안상호), an early Western-trained Korean physician.
There was nothing fictional about his prestigious biography.
Ahn studied at a medical school in Tokyo and was among the earliest Koreans to receive a Japanese medical qualification. He later opened a clinic in Seoul and served in medical positions connected to Korea's royal household.
But his biography did not end there.
As people began searching historical records, another part of Ahn's life resurfaced: his activities during the Japanese colonial period.
That transformed what had begun as celebrity trivia into a debate over 친일파 (chinilpa), often translated as “pro-Japanese collaborators” — Koreans who cooperated with or supported Japanese imperial rule during Korea’s colonial period (1910-1945)
For international readers, that wording is important. In this historical context, “pro-Japanese” does not simply mean someone who liked Japan or supported friendly relations between the two countries. The term carries the far heavier implication of collaboration with the Japanese colonial state that ruled Korea from 1910 to 1945.
The Taishō Friendship Association Became a Major Focus
One of the first records to attract attention showed Ahn Sang-ho serving as a council member of the Taishō Friendship Association (대정친목회) in 1916.
The association brought together prominent Koreans with influential Japanese residents, officials and other members of colonial society. Its purpose centered on what was called naeseon yunghwa (내선융화) — promoting closer integration between Koreans and Japanese under imperial rule.
In practice, this meant encouraging cooperation between Korean elites and the Japanese colonial establishment and promoting the idea that Korea should become increasingly assimilated into the Japanese Empire.
Its Korean participants included members of the old aristocracy, wealthy landowners, businessmen and other influential figures, while Japanese officials and prominent residents also participated. In its later structure, Korean elites increasingly occupied the organization’s active leadership while Japanese members often appeared in advisory roles.
That context matters because the Taishō Friendship Association was not simply a neutral Korea-Japan cultural exchange group.
The Institute for Research in Collaborationist Activities (민족문제연구소), one of South Korea’s most prominent organizations researching colonial collaboration, argues that Ahn’s participation in the group should be understood as part of his record of cooperation with colonial rule.
And the association was not the only historical record the Institute highlighted.
His Colonial-Era Record Went Beyond One Organization
In an August 14 statement addressing the controversy, the Institute presented several additional examples from Ahn’s later career.
According to the organization, Ahn participated in preparations connected to a memorial for Ito Hirobumi, the Japanese statesman assassinated by Korean independence activist Ahn Jung-geun.
Ahn Sang-ho was also repeatedly appointed to the Keijō municipal advisory council under Japanese colonial rule, headed a financial cooperative and later participated in the Dongminhoe, an organization associated with opposition to anti-Japanese activism.
The Institute also pointed to a 1918 colonial newspaper coverage that presented Ahn’s household as an example of successful Korean-Japanese assimilation.
Taken together, those records made it increasingly difficult to present Ahn’s biography solely as the story of a pioneering doctor.
But there is an important complication.
Ahn Sang-ho Was Not Officially Listed as a Pro-Japanese Anti-National Actor
Much of the online discussion quickly began speaking about Ahn as though his official historical classification were already settled.
It is not quite that simple.
Ahn Sang-ho was not included in the 2009 Encyclopedia of Pro-Japanese Collaborators (친일인명사전) published by the Institute for Research in Collaborationist Activities.
He was also not among the individuals formally designated by the South Korean government’s Truth Commission on Pro-Japanese Anti-National Activities.
The Institute has since explained that Ahn’s absence from its encyclopedia should not be interpreted as proof that he did not collaborate. According to the organization, his case did not meet its selection threshold when the encyclopedia was compiled, while additional historical materials have since been examined.
That distinction is worth preserving.
There is documentary evidence of Ahn participating in colonial-era organizations, and the Institute considers several of those activities clearly collaborationist.
But saying that is different from claiming that he received an official government designation that he did not receive.
In a controversy already fueled by social media, historical precision matters. Historian Shim Yong-hwan, for example, warned against taking isolated pieces of historical information and immediately attaching the strongest possible label to an individual.
The Agency’s First Response Made the Situation Worse
Facing these allegations, Ha Young’s agency initially responded forcefully.
On August 10, Bistus Entertainment confirmed that Ahn Sang-ho was indeed Ha Young’s great-grandfather but described the allegations surrounding his pro-Japanese activities as “groundless.”
A day later, the agency changed its position.
It acknowledged that records did show Ahn’s name among the Taishō Friendship Association’s council members in 1916 and apologized for issuing its earlier statement without conducting sufficient verification.
Ha Young then issued a handwritten apology on August 12.
She said that she had known only fragments of her great-grandfather’s story through what had been passed down within her family and admitted that she had previously discussed that history with pride without understanding the controversial parts of his record.
She apologized “as a descendant” and said she would study the history more seriously.
By then, the controversy had already moved far beyond online debate.
The Problem Child in House episode was removed from replay availability, and related clips were made private. Advertising videos featuring Ha Young from Samsung Electronics and clothing brand ATID were also made unavailable, while promotional interviews for Our Sticky Love were canceled.
For an actress whose visibility had surged through The Trauma Code and Teach You a Lesson, the change was remarkably sudden.
But Isn’t It Too Harsh to Blame Someone for Her Great-Grandfather?
For many international readers, this may be the most natural reaction to the controversy.
Ha Young was born decades after Korea was liberated from Japanese rule.
She did not choose her ancestry.
She did not participate in Ahn Sang-ho’s political activities.
So why should she be punished for something her great-grandfather may have done nearly a century ago?
The simplest answer is:
She shouldn't be.
Even the Institute for Research in Collaborationist Activities — which has taken one of the stronger positions on Ahn's historical conduct — explicitly warned against hereditary punishment.
A modern society cannot treat political guilt as hereditary.
But that is not quite where the Korean debate is focused on.
What makes this controversy much more complex is that many Koreans believe there is another question hiding underneath it:
Guilt cannot be inherited. But can advantage be inherited?
The Emergence of Land Records
On August 20, Weekly Kyunghyang reported finding colonial-era land records showing that Ahn Sang-ho owned approximately 2,700 pyeong — around 8,900 square meters — of rice fields in what is now Gunpo, Gyeonggi Province.
The property was located near the Gyeongbu railway line.
Other historical material indicates that Ahn was also known as a major landowner around Anyang, and reports published after his death described him as an extremely wealthy man.
That discovery immediately intensified the controversy.
But there is an important line that should not be crossed.
The existence of the land does not prove that Japan confiscated it from Koreans and gave it to Ahn as a reward for collaboration.
Researchers have not yet established exactly when he acquired the Gunpo property, how much he paid for it or the precise circumstances under which it came into his possession.
Nor has it been proven that Ha Young’s branch of the family inherited that specific property or received later compensation when portions of the area were acquired for roads and railway infrastructure.
Those are still open questions.
Yet the issue has become significant enough to reach the National Assembly.
On August 21, lawmaker Park Eun-jung raised the newly uncovered land records during a National Assembly Judiciary Committee meeting and called for Ahn’s property history to be examined when South Korea’s renewed investigation into collaboration-linked assets begins operating.
And that is where the Ha Young controversy stops being only a celebrity scandal.
Why This History Still Feels Unfinished in Korea
To someone outside Korea, events from the Japanese colonial period of 1910 to 1945 can understandably feel like distant history.
But the debate surrounding 친일파 (chinilpa) has never been only about what particular individuals believed or did 100 years ago.
It is also about what happened to their wealth, property, education, professional connections and social influence after liberation.
Did those advantages disappear when colonial rule ended?
Or were they passed down?
And what happened, by comparison, to families whose ancestors lost careers, property, freedom or even their lives while resisting Japanese rule?
Those questions are particularly sensitive because South Korea’s early attempt to systematically investigate colonial collaborators after liberation ultimately collapsed amid intense political interference.
As a result, many Koreans do not see the issue as a historical chapter that was conclusively investigated, judged and closed.
They see an unfinished question.
That is why Ha Young’s “four generations of doctors” story provoked such an unexpectedly strong reaction.
Before the controversy, the phrase represented something enviable: educational achievement, professional prestige and an extraordinary family legacy stretching across generations.
Once Ahn Sang-ho’s colonial-era activities resurfaced, however, some people began asking a much more uncomfortable question:
Where did that successful family story begin — and what historical circumstances helped make it possible?
At present, there is no evidence proving that Ha Young’s career or current family wealth derives from property obtained through colonial collaboration.
That fact should not be blurred simply because the controversy is emotionally charged.
But understanding the Korean reaction requires recognizing another distinction.
Inherited guilt and inherited advantage are not the same thing.
A person should not inherit the guilt of an ancestor.
But wealth, land, education and social status absolutely can travel across generations.
And in a country still debating what happened to the fortunes and influence accumulated under Japanese colonial rule, that distinction is why a seemingly ordinary celebrity interview about a “family of doctors” became one of Korea’s most heated entertainment controversies of the summer.
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