I have never been an ARMY in the traditional sense.
I didn’t organize my life around BTS schedules.
I didn’t participate in every fan project or follow every update.
I was simply someone who discovered their music, became fascinated by their performances, looked back at their difficult beginnings, and eventually watched seven young Korean men become global stars.
But somewhere along the way, I started watching something else.
Their fans.
And I began to wonder whether one of BTS’s greatest achievements might have very little to do with music charts.
I Had Seen Korean Fandom Culture Before BTS
I had watched Korean idol culture for many years.
Fan passion was nothing new.
Korean idol fandoms had always been extraordinarily devoted. Fans bought albums, attended concerts, waited for their favorite artists and defended the groups they loved.
But there was another side to that passion.
Competition between fandoms could become intense.
Who sold more albums?
Whose group was more popular?
Who deserved an award?
Whose idol was better?
Arguments and rivalries could sometimes become almost as important as the music itself.
Of course, BTS didn’t magically make fan conflict disappear.
ARMY is enormous, and no community containing millions of people can be described as if everyone thinks or behaves the same way.
But watching BTS and ARMY, I began to notice something else.
What if the power of a fandom could be directed toward something beyond winning?
“Love Yourself” Was More Than an Album Title
This is where BTS’s message becomes important.
The idea of loving yourself wasn’t confined to lyrics.
In 2017, BTS and BIGHIT joined UNICEF in the LOVE MYSELF campaign, connecting BTS’s message with efforts to combat violence against children and young people and promote self-esteem and well-being.
Then, in September 2018, RM stood at the United Nations.
He spoke about growing up, losing confidence, making mistakes and learning to accept himself.
His message eventually reached a simple challenge to young people:
Find your own voice.
BTS’s fans, RM said, had already become an important part of the LOVE MYSELF campaign through their actions and enthusiasm.
That moment interested me because BTS wasn’t simply saying:
“Love us.”
The message was turning in the opposite direction:
“Love yourself.”
For a pop group speaking to millions of young people, I think that difference matters.
The Message Started Leaving the Stage
Words are easy.
What interested me was what happened when some of those words became actions.
By March 2024, BTS, BIGHIT MUSIC and fans around the world had contributed more than 8.9 billion Korean won—about $6.6 million at the time—to UNICEF through the LOVE MYSELF campaign, according to UNICEF. The partnership was renewed to support mental health and well-being among children and young people.
UNICEF later reported the total at around $6.7 million for the period from 2017 through 2025.
Those are impressive numbers.
But money alone isn’t the part that interests me most.
It’s the chain reaction.
An artist sends a message.
Fans receive it.
And some of those fans decide:
“Then let’s do something.”
Then ARMY Did Something I Couldn’t Ignore
One example remains particularly striking.
In June 2020, BTS and Big Hit donated $1 million to Black Lives Matter amid protests against racism and police brutality in the United States.
ARMY responded.
Fans organized a campaign called #MatchAMillion.
The goal was exactly what the name suggested:
Match BTS’s $1 million donation.
And they did.
One In An ARMY, a fan-led charitable organization, announced that BTS fans had raised more than $1 million, with the campaign passing that mark rapidly after BTS’s donation became public.
TIME has documented how One In An ARMY and other fans organized charitable projects around the world, including medical assistance and support for children, often drawing inspiration from BTS’s own philanthropic activity.
That’s when fandom begins to look different to me.
Buying an album supports an artist.
Streaming a song supports an artist.
Voting for an award supports an artist.
But helping somebody you’ve never met?
That reaches beyond the artist.
No Fandom Is Perfect
I don’t want to romanticize ARMY.
Millions of people cannot possibly behave as one.
There are arguments.
There are rivalries.
There are people who behave badly online, just as there are in virtually every enormous internet community.
And charitable activity wasn’t invented by BTS fans. K-pop fandoms before and alongside ARMY have also organized donations and social projects.
That context matters.
So I wouldn’t say BTS eliminated the old competitive side of idol fandom.
What I saw was something more interesting.
They helped demonstrate how enormous fan energy could also be mobilized in another direction.
Competition could exist alongside generosity.
Passion for an artist could become passion for a cause.
And a message contained in a song could sometimes travel much farther than the song itself.
Perhaps This Is Why Their Lyrics Mattered So Much
When I first discovered BTS, it was the power of their performance that caught me.
“MIC Drop” made my shoulders move before I was thinking deeply about what BTS represented.
Then I discovered their practice.
Their difficult early years.
The small things they shared.
Their relationship with one another.
And eventually their lyrics.
That’s when I began to understand why the message mattered.
Young people face enormous pressure.
To succeed.
To look good.
To be noticed.
To compare themselves with everyone else.
To keep consuming the next exciting thing.
And sometimes simply to survive a difficult period of their lives.
BTS couldn’t solve those problems.
No musician can.
But they could say something.
You have value.
Listen to your own voice.
Love yourself.
And sometimes hearing those words at the right moment matters.
UNICEF itself credited BTS with helping spark conversations about self-esteem and mental well-being among young people around the world.
Then COVID Made That Message Feel Even More Important
During the pandemic, the world suddenly became smaller.
People were separated.
Plans disappeared.
BTS experienced that too.
In their 2020 UN message, they spoke openly about the cancellation of their world tour and the isolation and uncertainty they experienced. Their message returned once again to remembering who we are, loving ourselves and imagining a future beyond the crisis.
I remember thinking about the millions of people sitting at home during that period.
Some discovered BTS.
Others already loved them.
For many, music became a temporary escape from an outside world that suddenly felt frightening.
A song couldn’t open the door.
But for three or four minutes, perhaps it could make the room feel a little larger.
And BTS kept returning to the same fundamental idea:
You’re not alone.
Maybe That Is the Real Relationship Between BTS and ARMY
Artists normally create music.
Fans consume it.
But BTS and ARMY often seemed to create a feedback loop.
BTS spoke about loving yourself.
Fans told BTS how those words had helped them.
BTS heard those stories and spoke about feeling greater responsibility because of them.
RM explicitly described receiving stories from fans who said BTS’s message had helped them through difficult periods and learn to love themselves.
Then some fans took that inspiration into their own communities.
The message went out.
Something came back.
And BTS sent it out again.
Perhaps that’s one reason this relationship became so powerful.
I Don’t Want BTS to Be Remembered Only for Records
BTS has already achieved things I never imagined when I first encountered them.
Billboard No. 1s.
Stadiums.
Awards.
Millions of albums.
A global audience listening to seven Korean men whose language many of them originally couldn’t understand.
All of that belongs in their history.
But strangely, those aren’t the things I hope will define them in the end.
Records are temporary by nature.
Someone eventually sells more.
Someone eventually gets more streams.
Another artist eventually breaks the record.
That’s how records work.
But influence is different.
If a young person who once hated themselves learned to treat themselves with a little more kindness…
If a fan who once spent all their energy fighting another fandom decided instead to donate a few dollars to someone in need…
If people who lived thousands of kilometers apart discovered one another because seven Korean musicians brought them into the same community…
Those things don’t appear on Billboard.
But they matter.
From Successful Singers to Legends
When I first saw BTS, I underestimated them.
Then I admired their music.
I admired their performances.
I admired the extraordinary amount of practice behind their talent.
I learned about the difficult beginning they shared.
I listened to their message.
Then I watched them cross a language barrier I once thought would be almost impossible to overcome.
And finally, I watched the influence move beyond the seven members themselves.
Into ARMY.
Into charity projects.
Into conversations about self-worth.
Into the lives of people BTS would probably never meet.
I don’t know what BTS’s next chapter will look like.
But I know what I hope for them.
I don’t want them to be remembered simply as seven singers who became extraordinarily successful.
I hope they become legends remembered for leaving something good behind.
Because ultimately:
Records are eventually broken.
A good influence can outlive them.