AI Library
The Double Structure of Digital Sovereignty
Europe’s Departure from Palantir and the Chains of American Big Tech
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
This is a record of 2026, when European intelligence agencies and defense ministries began removing analytics tools from America’s Palantir. It covers the replacement decisions made by France’s General Directorate for Internal Security (DGSI), Germany’s Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution (BfV), and the Netherlands Ministry of Defense; the incident in which US export controls severed an ally’s ac…
New English Edition
Artificial Intelligence in Horticulture
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Across five chapters and ten sections, this book examines computer vision for crop diagnosis, harvesting robots and autonomous field systems, smart greenhouses and digital twins, precision irrigation and supply-chain quality control, high-throughput phenotyping, and predictive breeding.
New English Edition
Artificial Intelligence in Food Crop Agriculture
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Across six chapters and eighteen sections, the book examines digital agricultural infrastructure, remote sensing, crop diagnosis, yield forecasting, precision irrigation, genomics, molecular breeding, agricultural robotics, climate-smart agriculture, and global food security.
New English Edition
The Future of Forestry and Agroforestry
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Driven by Artificial Intelligence and Digital Innovation
Across five chapters and fifteen sections, the book follows satellites, drones, LiDAR, digital twins, forest-specific language models, wildfire and pest forecasting, forestry robotics, agroforestry, timber traceability, and forest carbon markets.
New English Edition
Smart Livestock Farming: AI Enters the Barn
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Sensors listen, cameras watch, and artificial intelligence helps farmers decide.
Across five chapters and fifteen sections, the book follows precision livestock farming from animal health and reproduction to robotic milking, virtual fencing, digital twins, methane reduction, welfare, and data ownership.
Table of Contents
Han Dong-hoon, Busan Buk-gu Gap: A Record of the 100 Days Before and After the Election (Mar. 26-Jul. 3, 2026)
Kim Kyung-jin
Table of Contents and 13 sections
From March 26 to July 3, 2026, this record follows the spring after expulsion, the Busan Buk-gu Gap by-election, victory as an independent, and the first bill submitted in the National Assembly.
Table of Contents
Artificial Intelligence and Medicine
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
AI in clinical care, hospitals, education, and research
AI in medical imaging, risk prediction, treatment planning, hospital operations, education, and research, with patient safety, privacy, and accountability.
[AI Library] Epilogue: A Night Spent in a Hotel Inside an Amphora
A Journey Through Georgia's History and Culture
Epilogue: A Night Spent in a Hotel Inside an Amphora
Kim Kyung-jin
At a winery in Kakheti, I spent one night in a room shaped like a kvevri.
It was a lodging modeled after a giant wine amphora. The curved ceiling was tinted wine-colored, and beyond the windows stretched endless vineyards. Eight thousand years ago, when someone on this land crushed grapes and put them in an amphora, humanity's first wine was born. I lay on the extension of that moment in time.
As the night deepened, Caucasian stars poured down. In this place without city lights, the Milky Way literally flowed like a river. I sat on the terrace with a glass of wine in my hand. A cool breeze blew in. During the day the temperature exceeded 30 degrees Celsius, but at night it dropped to 15 degrees. This temperature swing gifts sweetness to the grapes. This is how nature crafts wine.
Georgia is a small country. It is not even one-third the size of the Korean Peninsula.
Yet within this narrow land, twelve climate zones coexist. In Batumi on the Black Sea coast, subtropical moisture clings to the skin; in the highlands of Kazbegi, perpetual snow gleams. In the dry plains of Kakheti, grapes ripen; in the deep valleys of Svaneti, mist envelops villages. All four seasons fit within an hour's flight.
This abundance was both blessing and curse.
Rich soil, mild climate, a crossroads between east and west. Conditions coveted by all. Persia came, Mongolia came, the Ottoman Empire came, Russia came. Georgians fought. They lost, stood up, and fought again. At the supra feast, the toasts always include a moment honoring those who gave their lives for the homeland. Thousands of years of resistance seep through the fingertips that empty the glass.
On my last morning leaving Tbilisi, I walked through the sulfur spring district one final time.
The sulfur smell pouring from the domed bathhouses of Abanots'ubani. People who have soaked in these waters since before the Common Era. The Russian poet Pushkin loved these springs, and so did the French novelist Dumas, it is said. In the hot water, I retraced my two weeks of travel.
Palm trees and casino lights in Batumi. The dizzying cliffs of the military road and churches above the clouds. The vineyards of the Alazani Valley seen from Signagi's hilltop. The complex feelings in front of Stalin's birthplace in Gori. The lingering echo of polyphonic chanting from the narrow streets of Tbilisi's Old Town.
And the people I met everywhere.
The winery owner who poured wine while saying, 'Welcome to Georgia.' The taxi driver who honestly said, 'I dislike Russia, but Russian is convenient.' The university student who showed me protest photos saying, 'I want to go to Europe.' Their faces come to mind.
Georgians regard guests as gifts sent by God.
'Stumari Godvistgan Aris' (სტუმარი ღვთისგან არის). The guest comes from God. I heard this saying throughout my journey. People who opened their homes to a stranger, set the table, and filled glasses. The weight of that hospitality stayed with me.
On the flight back, I looked out the window.
The Caucasus Mountains were disappearing below the clouds. Snow-covered peaks, the military road running between them, and somewhere beyond, people who must be making wine. I murmured to myself that I would return.
Some destinations remain as photographs; some remain in the heart.
Georgia was the latter. Eight thousand years of wine's fragrance, the curves of thirty-three alphabets, the harmony of polyphonic music, the toasts of the supra feast, and people who live with dignity among great powers. All of this mingled into a single emotion. It seems it should be called longing.
That night spent inside the amphora, looking up at the stars, I thought.
Wine is a vessel that holds time. Inside the kvevri, grapes slowly ferment, and only after years pass do they become wine. Georgia is the same. Five thousand years of history have aged beneath the earth and continue to slowly ripen even now.
Someday I want to return to that amphora room.
Beneath the stars of the Caucasus, with a glass of wine.
Kim Kyung-jin
Attorney · Former Member of the National Assembly · AI Policy Researcher
© 2026 Kim Kyung-jin. All rights reserved.