The backroom deals of Westminster have an unlikely new fan club: the tattoo parlours of Seoul. South Korea, where inking skin has long been the preserve of shadowy backstreet operators, is set to borrow a leaf from the British licensing playbook. The move is a quiet revolution, one that the Lobby would do well to watch.
For decades, South Korea’s tattoo artists have operated in a legal grey area. The Supreme Court upheld a ban on non-medical practitioners, driving the trade underground. Artists worked in fear of raids, fines, and even prison. But now, President Yoon Suk Yeol’s office has signalled a U-turn. Sources say the government is drafting legislation to license tattoo studios, modelled on the UK’s system of council-issued permits and hygiene standards.
Why the UK? The answer lies in the lobbyists. A small delegation of British tattoo studio owners, backed by the Tattoo Artists Guild (a group rarely seen in the same sentences as Whitehall influence), has been quietly making the rounds in Seoul. Their pitch: the British model isn’t just regulation. It’s a seal of approval. It turns a back-alley trade into a legitimate business, complete with insurance, supply chains, and customer confidence.
Data from the UK’s Chartered Institute of Environmental Health shows a 78% drop in tatto-related infections since licensing was tightened in 2018. That number, sources say, ‘flipped the switch’ in Seoul. The Korean Artists’ Association, once a fractious group of underground inkers, now has a formal delegation meeting with the Ministry of Health this week.
But not everyone is a convert. The British model is not without its critics. Some UK artists complain of red tape, high fees, and inconsistent enforcement across councils. ‘It’s a postcode lottery,’ says one veteran London tattooist. ‘In Hackney, you queue for weeks. In Westminster, it’s a rubber stamp.’
Yet for South Korea, the alternative is worse. The black market is booming. A recent poll found 52% of Korean millennials have a tattoo, but 43% got them illegally. The economics are stark: legal studios in the UK pay tax. Underground parlours in Seoul do not. The Treasury in Seoul is estimated to lose £120 million a year to untaxed ink.
Then there’s the global angle. The British licensing system is slowly becoming the de facto standard. Australia and Canada have already adopted variations. Japan is watching. The World Tattoo Expo last year in London saw more than 30 Korean artists attend, many taking notes. ‘This is the tradecraft of politics,’ says a British diplomat familiar with the talks. ‘Sometimes the best aid is a regulatory template.’
The final hurdle is the medical lobby. South Korean doctors have long argued that tattooing is a medical procedure. They fear a loss of income. But the British experience shows that licensing doesn’t have to mean deregulation. Scotland, for instance, requires tattooists to hold a blood-borne virus qualification. The result: fewer infections, more business.
If Seoul adopts the UK model, it will be a victory for the art of soft power. A small, piece of legislation, forged in the committees of Westminster and exported to the streets of Gangnam. The ink may be permanent, but so is the politics.
