#NotYourMascot, and Why You Should Care

Normally, I make it my practice to silently observe the discussion involving other social groups of America. The reason for this is simple: it is important for each social group to speak with its own voice. Even if I wanted to help, it is the better habit to refrain. I have seen too many cases in which good intentions were translated into stumbling, inartful words, setting back the agenda rather than advancing it. That was not going to be me.

Despite those reservations, I feel compelled to speak out in solidarity for the movement against having a racial slur, i.e. "Redskins," as the name of an NFL franchise. I feel the compulsion for two reasons. First, I am a sports fan and a resident of the Washington D.C. area, which makes the name of the local franchise more relevant than those living outside of the region who don't care about sports. Second, I am an Asian American, and I have been mired in the ill-advised hashtag campaign from a few weeks ago that distracted the national attention away from this important issue. Though I have been speaking out on the stupidity of the hashtag campaign, it is undeniable that I, too, contributed to the distraction.

How shall I express my solidarity with the campaign against "Redskins," without running afoul of my personal rule that I should not speak on behalf of others? Answer: I can speak about my own experience, which points toward the same result. Here is my attempt at doing so.

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I am a first generation immigrant, having emigrated from Korea to Los Angeles area in 1997. I will not bore you with the sob stories about my adjustment into American life at age 16, since I have already done that in this space already. It would enough to say that, the first year of my American life was defined largely by loneliness. In Seoul, I lived in the same neighborhood throughout my childhood. I had a close group of friends who attended the same elementary school, same middle school and same high school. The move to U.S. was the first major move I remember--and it had to be across the Pacific, in a new land where no one wanted to talk to the new kid who spoke broken English.

(More after the jump)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Against Hashtag Warriors: Their Arguments and Why They are Wrong

For the last week, I have had a chance to survey the landscape of opinions regarding the #CancelColbert campaign. Here are the major arguments in favor of the hashtag war, and why they are wrong.

- The Main Argument:  "Regardless of what Stephen Colbert intended, the use of the phrase "ching chong ding dong" is reminiscent of the racism that Asian Americans face. (In other words, it is "triggering".) To remind Asian Americans of racism in such a manner is insensitive and racist."

This is the crux of the #CancelColbert supporters' argument. Note that, under this argument, context in which the phrase is said does not matter, and neither does intent. Whenever the phrase is said, it triggers. Whenever the sound of the phrase is heard, it is racist. This is "magic word racism," pure and simple: if you say the word X, no matter what the circumstance, you are being racist.

#CancelColbert was not a worthy effort in large part because it is just another rendition of the magic word racism. I made this point previously, but it bears repeating and amplifying: magic word racism causes real harm. It distracts the attention from racism's core, which resides in the heart rather than words. Magic word racism lends support to, for example, the incessant whining about why black people get to say "n-----" but not white people. (If word itself is the problem, why do some people get to say it?)

Only by being sensitive to context and intent can one avoid the pitfalls of magic word racism, but #CancelColbert demands that we look away from the context.

- The "What About Black People?" Argument:  "Stephen Colbert wouldn't use African Americans as a topic and use the n-word, would he? So why is it ok for him to use Asian Americans and 'ching chong?'"

This argument, again, displays lack of consideration toward context--in this case, a historical and social one. To state plainly, Asian Americans are not African Americans, and "ching chong" is not "n-----". Historically, we Asian Americans never experienced anything close to what African Americans experienced on account of our race. Even the darkest moments of Asian American history--Chinese Exclusion Acts, the World War II Internment, Vincent Chin--are not comparable to slavery, mass rape and lynching that African Americans historically endured. Currently, Asian Americans are not experiencing a comparable level of discrimination to which African Americans are subjected. There is no stop-and-frisk program targeting Asian Americans. There is no current Asian American equivalent of Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis.

Are African Americans accorded greater deference in the media than Asian Americans are? Yes, and rightly so, considering the historical and contemporary context. Black folks has gone through more shit, and are going through more shit, than Asian Americans have and are. To give African Americans a bit more breathing room is the right thing to do.

Critics of Colbert have argued that Stephen Colbert should not be allowed to try and support one minority group (Native Americans) by using another (Asian Americans) as a prop. But when they raise this argument, it is the critics who use the African Americans as a stepladder. 

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Against Hashtag Warriors

For those of you who were lucky enough to miss the shitstorm in Twitter in the last two days, here is some background:

On Wednesday night, Stephen Colbert was speaking of Washington Redskins owner Dan Snyder, who responded to those who criticized the name "Redskins" as a racial slur by founding a non-profit organization called Original Americans Foundation. Then a 2005 episode of the show replayed, in which Colbert, in character as a satirical conservative talk-show blowhard, was "caught" making racist jokes about Asians. After the callback, Colbert, in character, said he would atone for his racism by establishing the "Ching Chong Ding Dong Foundation for Sensitivity to Orientals or Whatever."

The butt of the joke here is very clear: it is Dan Snyder. Snyder thinks founding a non-profit organization would let him continue having a racial slur in his team's name. To mock Snyder, Colbert assumed the same posture as Snyder, only in a more ridiculous way so as to make Snyder's folly more obvious.

After the show, the official Colbert Report Twitter account repeated the joke on a tweet: "I am willing to show #Asian community I care by introducing the Ching-Chong Ding-Dong Foundation for Sensitivity to Orientals or Whatever." Then came the outrage. Suey Park, who recently rose to prominence due to a series of Twitter hashtag campaigns, most notably #NotYourAsianAmericanSidekick, began yet another hashtag campaign: #CancelColbert.

I believe Ms. Park's efforts are dumb and damaging. Here is why.

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Previously in this space, I shared a story of his friend from Louisiana:

"The father of my ex-girlfriend was a rare breed -- a real deal racist. I'm not talking about someone who has a lapse in judgment and says the wrong thing from time to time. He genuinely believed that black people were inferior to white people. But whenever a black person happened to cross him, he would never yell, "you damn n-----!" Instead, he would yell: "You damn Democrat!" That way, nobody would accuse him of being racist."

This anecdote is interesting because it reveals the true nature of racism. Racism does not reside in the words; it resides in the mind that utter the words. Regardless of the precise word uttered--either "n-----" or "Democrat"--the man described in the Korean's friend's story remains just as virulently racist in his heart. Using the word "Democrat" instead of "n-----" does not mitigate the racist man's sincerely held belief that African Americans were inferior to whites. This shows the vacuity of what I call the "magic word racism," which may be defined as an attempt to detect racism by the presence or absence of certain words or phrases. 

If we cannot rely on the presence or absence of words alone, how are we to know what makes something racist? Recall where racism truly lies: it is in the person's mind, her intent. What makes something racist? It is the racist intent that makes something racist. For the man in the story above, the words "n-----" and "Democrat" serve the same function: to express his racist disdain toward African Americans. The precise vehicle by which the man delivered the racist intent does not matter. What matters is the intent delivered in those vehicles.

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

SXSW Day 6 Notes: Day Trip to San Antonio

SXSW was drawing to a close on Sunday. Rather than seeing the last few showcases, I decide to follow the five Korean bands' show at San Antonio, a 1.5-hour drive from Austin.

After picking up my travel mates, we first head over to Salt Lick barbecue, considered one of the best barbecues in Texas. Salt Lick was located about an hour away from Austin, at a town called Driftwood, Texas. I could hardly think of a more appropriate name for a Texas town with fine barbecue. We get there just in time to beat the massive lunch crowd.

The verdict? It was a phenomenal barbecue, but Franklin barbecue was a little bit better. Salt Lick's side dishes were better than Franklin's, but really, do you go to a barbecue place to eat side dishes?

(More after the jump)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

SXSW: Notes from Jambinai, Crying Nut, Big Phony Showcases

[Note:  The Korean is aware that SXSW is over. He hopes to punch out everything SXSW-related by this weekend. Thanks for waiting and reading.]

With another successful Seoulsonic showcase, the Korean is more excited than ever to see how Korean acts will do at offsite venues. His day began with Jambinai's daytime show, a highly anticipated event given the numerous positive coverage that Jambinai has received in the last few days.

Jambinai's venue was offsite. It was on the northern end of University of Texas, several miles away from the downtown Austin where SXSW official events were taking place. The venue itself was pretty neat. It had an outdoor patio set up as a pleasant garden decorated with vintage signs and paraphernalia. The beer was dirt cheap. Given the location and timing, however, I temper my expectation as to the size of the audience. The crowd did eventually build up to over 40 people--not a bad turnout for a daytime, offsite show.

Jambinai came on, and as they usually do, mesmerized the crowd.

With the vintage background, geomun'go-ist Shim Eun-yong gave me one of my favorite pictures from Austin.

(It's hard to see in the picture, but Shim's geomun'go case has a small embroidered Korean flag on top, and stickers that say: "FUCK THE SYSTEM". Bad ass.)

The crowd was absolutely amazed. Some of them seemed to have heard of Jambinai, as they listened to the band with knowing smile. Others were regular university types who were there to hang out, and were blown away by what they were hearing. Once Jambinai began playing, the crowd grew very quickly as more people streamed in from outside. By the end of their set, there was an excited buzz among the listeners. Several people asked me about the band and the instruments they were playing.

As I was leaving the venue, the bouncer at the entrance (who could not see the band from where he was standing) chatted me up:

"How many people are in that band?"

"Three."

"Really? It sounded like there were about ten of them!"

The bouncer wasn't wrong, actually. Lee Il-woo plays three instruments at the same time and the other two members play two instruments at the same time. Speaks volumes about Jambinai's complexity and versatility.

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

SXSW Interview: Smacksoft

(source)

Smacksoft, led by frontwoman Whang Bo-ryung [황보령] (known in the U.S. market simply as "Bo",) is one of the few rock bands in Korea that are indisputably led by a woman leader. Smacksoft has been critically acclaimed for its colorful music that translates well to audiences of different cultures.

The Korean met Smacksoft at the lobby of their lodging. The interview was conducted in Korean; the translation is the Korean's own.

TK:  Please say hello to everyone.

Hi people, my name is Bo-ryung Whang. I'm the vocal and I play guitar.

Hello, I'm Smacksoft's drummer Seo Jin-sil.

Hello, I'm the bassist Shin Gee-yong.

How are you, I am Rainbow 99, the guitarist.

Hi people, I am Hanul. I play the synthesizer.

TK:  How did Smacksoft start?

Bo:  I have been playing as a solo since 1998. We held an audition for members, and Smacksoft began in 2007.

TK:  How would you describe Smacksoft's music?

Bo:  It's post-punk. It defies categories, mostly based on rock, alternative and electronica.

TK:  This is your first SXSW. How are you enjoying it?

Seo:  This is way too much fun.

Shin:  It's really different from Korea's rock festivals. In Korea, you play before a single, huge crowd. Here, each bar and club has its own, small show. The whole city is involved. I wish Korea would have something like this, too.

Rainbow 99:  It's so much more fun than expected. It's fun to watch the people here too.

TK:  Any artist at SXSW that you want to see in particular?

Bo:  We are a bit too busy to follow a particular band.

Hanul:  The lines are too long for big names anyway. I just want to stroll and watch a lot of different acts.

Bo:  There was one young woman band who does hardcore rock. I wanted to see her.

TK:  Who would you call as your musical influence?

Bo:  J.S. Bach. You know, Johann Sebastian. Velvet Underground. Bauhaus. Red Hot Chili Peppers. The Cure. Simon and Garfunkle, Bob Marley, the Pixies. Suzanne Vega. I like everyone. Sonic Youth.

Seo:  I'm not into Sonic Youth.

Bo:  How about we all go around and talk about the music we like then.

Hanul:  Sigur Ross, My Bloody Valentine. [Bo:  I like them too!]

Rainbow 99:  Brian Inoue. Vision of Disorder. Yo La Tengo.

Shin:  Pink Floyd.  [Rainbow 99:  I hate them. Their earlier stuff was ok though.]

Seo:  I like jazz. Chet Baker, Bill Evans. I like Red Hot Chili Peppers too.

TK:  Would it be faster if you just listed the stuff you don't listen to?

Rainbow 99:  Sure. I'm not into "K-pop."

Hanul:  Music from hot countries, like reggae. I also hate the trot medleys that they sell at highway rest stops in Korea. Regular trot is fine; just that fast medleys.

Bo:  There is some jazz with discordant notes. I can't stand it.

TK:  How do you see Smacksoft's music evolving, going forward?

Bo:  We just want to make good sound. The music equipment has made that so much easier. With computers, it is much easier to add anything we want, and just put on some more acoustic stuff. In our most recent fifth album, we have a lot of rock, electronica and ambient noise. We try not to get tied down to a certain genre.

TK:  How did you feel about your SXSW experience?

Bo:  I love people. I love music. I love Austin and SXSW! It's so wonderful here.

Seo:  It was far beyond expectation. I really want to come back.

Bo:  Maybe we should leave our instruments here.

Shin:  Seeing so many artists was great. It was so much better than seeing just the headliners.

Hanul:  Rock festivals in Korea are too similar to one another. I wish they combined to form just a couple of festivals with more tradition, and have something like this in Korea.

Bo:  It could totally happen around Daehak-ro. We should talk to the mayor.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

SXSW Day 4 Notes

Day 4 was Friday. Most of the day was spent chasing around Korean bands at off-site venues. As much fun as it is to see Korean bands in the big showcases like K-Pop Night Out or Seoulsonic, the off-site performances will give the more realistic glimpse of the bands' potential for international success. I end up seeing the off-site performances of Jambinai and Crying Nut, and an SXSW official show by Big Phony. Another post will cover those performances.

At other times, I roamed the streets of Austin for something interesting. There was a large compound in which a number of food trucks gathered. There, I spot this abomination.

I am an irrational Korean food purist. To me, most Korean food in Seoul is not authentic enough. Regardless of my preferences, this Korean-Mexican fusion truck is popular in Austin, as is the case with most cities in which Korean-Mexican fusion appeared. This truck sold "Korean tacos," "kimchi fries" and the like. I hate-stand in the line, hate-order a rice bowl and hate-eat the fucked up glop of long grain rice, cilantro, some cabbage that pretended to be kimchi and grated cheese. Then I hated myself for a while.

Walking around the famed Sixth Street in Austin, I spy a familiar name: "Seoul." Turns out, Seoul was a name of a band from Montreal. How could a Korean not step inside to see what that was about? Inside, the band called Seoul was playing a soft, dream-like ballad on the stage. (As to the linked music video: I don't why a band called "Seoul" would film its music video in Tokyo, but whatever suits them, I suppose.) The music was not half bad. I tried to find someone who was with the band to get an explanation for the name, but no luck. I briefly thought about buying the band's shirt for the irony value, but I could not even find anyone to give my money in exchange for the merchandise. I leave the venue with unresolved intrigue.

Earlier that day, I heard there was a Japan Nite showcase. Since I had enough time to catch one set before I had to head over to Big Phony's evening show, I stop by. There, I see this:

This is a Japanese idol group called Starmarie. As you can see, there are dressed like 12 year old children. They are billed as "space idols." I wish I had enough words to describe the full horror that I saw.

To be sure, I have read enough Japan's idol market and its pedophilic aesthetics, but seeing that aesthetics in person was another matter. It is common for the idol girl groups in Japan to debut around age 13, and peak around 17~19. But the physical age matters less than the images that the Japanese groups projects. After all, it is hardly unheard of in K-pop to have idol girl group with the membership in early teens. GP Basic, for example, had the average age of around 13 when the group began in 2010. But in the K-pop idol market, young girls act like fully grown women. It is still problematic that young girls are projecting a sexual image, but at least the object of desire is a grown woman.

In contrast, in their garb, speech and demeanor, Starmarie was a team of fully grown women acting like young girls. Here, the object of desire is a child, which is far more unnerving. They are wearing a pink dress and a tiara; their voice are deliberately high-pitched and "cutesy"; their choreography, while performed well, more properly belongs to pre-teens at a talent show. The fact that I actually liked their music was even more disorienting. If one looked away, one would hear speedy rock music with high-energy guitar riffs, which is typical of the Japanese rock of the 1990s. I loved listening to Japanese rock music in the mid-1990s; I would have loved to Starmarie's music sung by a rocking front woman. It was as if I was recognizing an unexpectedly beautiful, abstract pattern from a horrifying train wreck.

I furiously text all of my acquaintances who knew a thing or two about the Japanese pop scene to get more information about Starmarie. Apparently, it is a mid-major group who are considered a bit old as they are in their early 20s. The group's target audience was japanophiles outside of the country. That made sense, as the orientalism was on full display. Switching to Japanese language at the right moments, Starmarie definitely looked and acted like the imaginary Japanese women that dirty old men would dream up.

Speaking of dirty old men, the venue was full of them. The venue was actually the same one as K-Pop Night Out, but the difference in audience could not have been more striking. The size of the crowd for K-Pop Night Out was at least double. KPNO's crowd leaned toward young, energetic girls who were ready to charge the stage, screaming their lungs out for Jay Park. Japan Nite's crowd leaned toward older, quiet men with gleaming eyes as they kept their distance from the stage.

As someone whose pop music staple growing up included a healthy dose of Japanese music, I knew that Japan has better music to offer. I left the venue, hoping that the scene would improve over time. It did not, according to a person who worked the venue that night. The high point of Japan Nite was Starmarie, and the audience count went even further down thereafter. Pity; Japanese pop deserved better at SXSW.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

SXSW: Notes from Seoulsonic

This year, SXSW has two official Korea-themed showcases: K-Pop Night Out and Seoulsonic. Although K-Pop Night Out was a highly successful event, Seoulsonic is a more mature show, as it is hosting its fourth annual U.S. tour. This year's lineup was:  Smacksoft, Big Phony, Glen Check, Rock 'n Roll Radio, Love X Stereo and No Brain. Not a single dog in that lineup.

- The venue was slightly small, but chic. The stage was set up in the outdoor yard, which allowed for a relaxed atmosphere. The crowd topped out at around 120. 

- The audience was an interesting group: at least 80 percent of the audience was not Korean, and the percentage is likely to be higher if one disregarded the staff for the bands and other Korean artists who were not performing at Seoulsonic in attendance. Many of the non-Korean audience spoke excellent Korean. The last time I have seen this many non-Koreans speaking such comfortable Korean was at an event for diplomatic staff and foreign policy graduate students at Washington D.C. 

Most importantly, a large part of the crowd already knew everything about the bands that were performing. These guys were fans, not someone who simply wandered in during SXSW. Before the show, I chatted with a couple of young folks who were planning to move to Korea within this year to teach English and write about Korea's indie scene. Another person recognized my Drunken Tiger cap, took a picture of it and tweeted to MFBTY (who promptly retweeted.) These fans are going to be the future of international K-Pop.

(More after the jump.) 

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

SXSW Interview: Crying Nut

(source)

If there were a world rock band Olympics, Crying Nut would probably be the captain of Team Korea. Formed in 1995, the first punk rock band of Korea has maintained the same membership for nearly two decades. In the interim, the band preserved its youthful, explosive energy while becoming veterans of international tours.

The Korean met Crying Nut at their hotel. The interview was conducted in Korean; the translation was the Korean's own.

TK:  Please say hello to everyone.

Crying Nut:

Rock 'n roll, yeah! Hello, I'm Captain Rock [TK Note: real name is Han Gyeong-rok], bassist for Crying Nut. [Gibberish; laughter]

Hi, this is the guitar for Crying Nut, Lee Sang-myeon. [Attempted gibberish; laughter]

I am Kim In-soo, accordion and keyboard.

Lee Sang-hyeok for drum!

[In Japanese] I am the vocal and guitarist Park Yun-sik.

TK:  Please introduce Crying Nut for those who don't know you yet. How did you come to form the band?

Han:  The four of us [except Kim] were all friends since elementary school, so we always played together. We met In-soo in 1995. He was a DJ at the time. We formed Crying Nut together then. We are Korea's first punk rock band. We have seven regular albums so far. And we go anywhere there is a good live stage to perform on.

Kim:  We go anywhere we can drink.

TK:  This is your second SXSW. How is it different from the first time?

Lee SM:  We had a great time when we first came here! It was amazing to see a city full of rock music. I think we felt the pressure that we should really do well then. This time, we just want to have fun.

TK:  What did you think about the audience reaction last night, from K-Pop Night Out?

Han:  Fantastic!

Lee SM:  We were surprised by the enthusiasm. It was moving.

Park:  We are world stars.

Kim:  But you could totally tell the part of the crowd that was there for Jay Park, another part that came for HyunA.

TK:  Crying Nut is one of the oldest continuing rock bands in Korea. How do you think Crying Nut's music evolved over time?

Han:  We are like bibimbap. We began as punk rock, but every one of us has a different taste. We blend them all in and create our music.

Lee SH:  We were probably more rebellious at first. Now I think we became more romantic.

Kim:  I recall seeing a 70-year-old film director receiving a lifetime achievement award, and saying in his speech that he still doesn't really know much about movies. That's how I feel about music.

TK:  Who would you call your influences?

Lee SM:  There are too many; we can't list them all. We listened to a lot of alternative at first. Before that, heavy metal.

Park:  Dead Kennedys, Pixies.

Han:  Irish rock nowadays. Gypsy music too.

Lee SH:  New Age, classical. Enya.

Park:  I like funny bands. There were some Mexican bands here at SXSW who played with the luchador masks on. They were funny as hell. Their music was shit though.

TK:  On the other side of the ledger, do you see your influence over Korean bands that came after you?

Han:  We were probably a terrible influence. When we were playing at Club Drug [in 1995], we saw all these high school kids listening to our music. Later, we saw them all forming bands and playing music. Of course they all played different kinds of music, but all the punk rock bands learned from us. No Brain learned from us, too. [TK Note: this is quite a statement, because No Brain began playing at Club Drug around the same time Crying Nut began.]

Lee SM:  Regardless of what music they play, I do feel that the later bands look up to us because we were able to stay with the same members for so long.

TK:  In your long career, what changes have you seen at the Hongdae scene?

Lee SM:  Now there is a huge diversity in music, and the quantity of it increased a lot too. When we started out, there were only so many genres of music.

Lee SH:  There is a different mentality behind it also. When we started, there was this weird pride about not appearing television, not trying to promote. You were a traitor if you showed up on TV. Now it is just normal for bands to do whatever they can to promote themselves. And of course, that's just the normal way of doing things.

TK:  As Korea's premier rock band, do you have any thoughts on how the word "K-pop" is used in the international market?

Kim:  I think the definition will change over time, but frankly I don't care that much. Things change when they cross over to a different place. A lot of these smaller differentiations in musical genre are about American and British music; they don't end up being applicable in Korean setting. So calling some Korean music "K-pop" but not others doesn't really make sense. I think "K-pop" is just pop music of Korea.

TK:  Do you plan on checking out some of the acts at SXSW?

Lee SH:  I've been listening to a lot of the bands here through the SXSW app.

Park:  That's high tech. I just wrote them all down. [Shows the note.]

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Viktor Ahn, Korea's Hero

(Because the blog was quiet during the Winter Olympics, the Korean thought it may be appropriate to have a reflective piece about the Games. Enjoy.)

It would not take a Korea-centric blog to note that Viktor Ahn, formerly known in Korea as Ahn Hyeon-su [안현수], was one of the best story lines from the 2014 Winter Olympics. Ahn's story, covered everywhere from the New York Times to Deadspin, is now familiar. Ahn was once the ace for Korea's world-beating short track skating team, and was a dominant force in the 2006 Torino Olympics. After a knee injury and factionalism within the skating administration within Korea, Ahn did not make Team Korea's roster for the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. Frustrated, Ahn became a free agent, renouncing Korean citizenship and taking the flag of the highest bidder, Russia. In the Sochi Olympics, Ahn became one of the Games' greatest winners, taking three gold and one bronze medals. In the process, he solidified his place as the greatest short track skater ever, with six career Olympic gold medals and two bronze.

(source)

How did Koreans feel about Ahn? Initially in 2011, when Ahn announced his decision to leave Korea, there was some grousing in the corners of Korea's Internet by those who thought Ahn was betraying his country. But what little grudge Koreans had held against Ahn mostly evaporated by the beginning of the Olympics, even before Ahn stepped on the Sochi ice. Overwhelming majority of Koreans cheered for Ahn when he was skating, and they were genuinely happy when Ahn won his first medal, a bronze. By the time Ahn was done setting the record, Koreans showered their love on Ahn just as much as they did with any member of Team Korea. 

(Well, any member except Kim Yuna. But Kim Yuna is Kim Yuna--there won't be another one quite like her. That's for another post.)

Why did Koreans cheer for Ahn? A shallow analysis may point to Korea's strong ethno-nationalism, and claim that Koreans simply love any Korean who succeeds. Such an analysis may have had a point in certain previous instances. (Hines Ward, for example.) But this time, it badly misreads the pulse of Koreans' positive emotion for Ahn. Koreans were not cheering for Ahn simply because Ahn is Korean; Koreans were cheering for Ahn because Ahn represents the triumph of the individual, victorious over injustice.

(More after the jump)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

The Korean on NPR, and "East Sea/Sea of Japan"

The Korean appeared on NPR's Kojo Nnamdi show to discuss the pending bill on Sea of Japan/East Sea for Virginia's textbooks. You can listen to the show here. (Click "Listen" on the top left.)

A note on the Sea of Japan/East Sea issue: personally, I am agnostic about this issue. At the end of the day, I don't think it matters all that much no matter what the outcome. If we are dealing with issues of Japan's colonialism, I think the effort would be better served focusing on the issue of Comfort Women, as those women represent the most direct victims of Japanese imperialism who is being denied justice. In fact, when it comes to addressing the dark legacy of Japan's colonialism, there are several more issues that I would devote my energy before I get to the Sea of Japan/East Sea issue.

But then again, people have different priorities than the Korean's. And that's fine, as long as those priorities are within reasonable boundaries. And there should be no question that the attempt to list both "Sea of Japan" and "East Sea" is a reasonable effort to address the stain of Japan's imperialism. As I said in the broadcast, it is an American tradition for immigrant communities to express their views on world history, and ensure their children and other children who study with them are introduced to such perspectives. This is such a natural desire that even the representative of the Japanese Embassy tripped up and said he would prefer his children to learn about all sides of the issue, even as he was claiming that there was only one correct name for the sea.

Indeed, the makeup of the show's guests was telling. "Korean side" had a local small businessman and a blogger; "Japanese side" had the embassy representative. If you ever thought Koreans were the ones who were too sensitive to the historical issues, think again.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Best of the Worst 2013

It is yet another installation of AAK!'s year-end tradition: the worst emails of the year 2013! This year has been another reaffirmation of the eternal truth that, on the Internet, the supply of stupidity is infinite. Despite seeing the examples of dumb questions from 2008, 2009, 2010 (in Parts I, II, and III), 2011 and 2012, people simply do not learn.

As usual, these are all real emails that the Korean really received. Other than redacting personal information, not a single thing about the email is changed or modified in any way. The Korean's comments and thoughts on the emails are highlighted in blue.

--------------------------------------------

re: question

Kiseung had an initiation of the" Chignon",the putting up of hair.
What was the significance of that…?

Why a burial mound?

I'm sorry, who's Kiseung? And what does "chignon" mean in ancient Korean?

re: (no subject)

I DON'T GET WHY I ASIAN'S DON'T LIKE BLACK GIRL I MEAN IM REALLY DIFFERENT FROM OTHER BLACK GIRL. I DON'T HANG OUT WITH A LOT OF BLACK PEOPLE BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO LOUD RUDE AND GHETTO I REALLY DONT LIKE PEOPLE LIKE THAT I USAALY HANG WITH SPANISH AND I HAVE ABOUT 10 ASIAN FRIEND BUT THEY ARE CHINESE AND VIETNAMESE AND 1 KOREAN BUT SHE IS MIXED WITH BLACK I MEAN IM NOT FULLY BLACK BECAUSE MY MOM IS BLACK AND VIETNAMESE IM JAMAICAN AND VIETNAMESE.MY FAMILY DON'T REALLY GET ALONG WITH BLACK THAT MUCH IM INTO KOREAN MOSTLY AND JAPANESE I LOVE K-DRAMA AND THE CULTURE. I SPEAK IT A LITTLE BECAUSE ON MY FREE TIMES I ONLY WATCH THE DRAMAS OH AND THE GUYS ARE REALLY CUTE BUT IM NOT BEING RUDE BUT THE GIRLS ARE HARD TO TRUST I LEARNED FROM EXPERIENCES GUESS DRAMAS SRE RIGHT BUT YEAH

Right. But, yeah. Right. Right.

re: question for a korean

I was just curious if a korean and an american have children. considering when whites and blacks have children they are called maloto or millato or something so what would a korean white baby be called  just curious as i live with one as a roomate.

They would be called, "Please just shut the fuck up."

re: (no subject)

I've been living here for several years now, grew up in Europe, but this country has the highest percentage of dumb, selfish, egocentric people I've ever experienced. Just hard work and discipline doesn't cut it. Moral, ethics and sincerity are equally important.

Regards,

Glad to be a non-korean

So, your question is...?

More stupidity, after the jump.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com. But no stupid questions please. I just can't take it anymore.

What Does My Korean Name Mean?

[Series Index]

Dear Korean,

My question concerns my Korean name. The story I have been told all my life is that I was found on a street corner by a policeman in Seoul and subsequently placed in an orphanage. I was given a name and a date of birth, one of which stuck with me (the birth date), while the other (the name) was abandoned faster than a politician’s promise when I was adopted by a military family from the United States. I was adopted during a time when the philosophy was to assimilate foreign children into their new culture as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. For most of my life, it never even occurred to me that my Korean name might mean anything other than “Jane Doe.”

Recently, I was told that my name means “fate” or “destiny,” but upon a Google search, I found other meanings. I am wondering if you would be willing to set the matter straight. The romanization I was given is: Park Sook-Myung.

Rebekah M.

Believe it or not, this is one of the most common types of question that the Korean would receive: Korean Americans, usually adoptees, asking about the meaning of their Korean name. Although the Korean previously dealt with this issue several times, it wouldn't hurt to go over this one more time and have a post that is more explicitly focused on the name meanings.

Here is the short answer to Rebekah: there is no way to know the meaning of your name unless we know the Chinese characters behind your name.

Let's first get a sense of Korean language generally. Remember this important point: (classical) Chinese is to Korean is Latin is to English. Just like many English words have a Latin origin, many Korean words have a Chinese origin. Those words are called Sino-Korean. As is the case with English, Korean words that are on the more sophisticated side tend to be Sino-Korean.

For example, the word "boxer" originates from Middle English; the word "pugilist," which means the same but is usually used in a higher-level discourse, originates from Latin. Similarly, for example, Koreans may use the pure Korean word 아기 ("baby") to refer to a young child, in an everyday conversation. But in legal documents, Koreans are more likely to use the Sino-Korean word 영아 ("infant"). Because 아기 is a pure Korean word, one cannot write this word using Chinese characters. But because 영아 is a Sino-Korean word, one can write this word using Chinese characters, like so:  嬰兒.

Importantly, most Korean names are Sino-Korean, which means they use Chinese characters. To be sure, some babies are given purely Korean names, such as 하늘 (Haneul, "sky") or 나래 (Narae, "wings"). But these names tend to be the minority: depending on the year, between 3 and 9 percent of the babies are given purely Korean names. In all other instances, Korean names are Sino-Korean words. This means that, for most Korean names, one cannot know their meaning unless one also knows the Chinese characters behind them. This becomes even truer because a single Korean syllable does not correspond one-on-one to a single Chinese character. Instead, it is very common for a dozen different Chinese characters to have the same sound in Korean.

For example, let's take the syllables "sook" (숙) and "myung" (명) from Rebehak's name. Here are just some of the Chinese characters that are pronounced as "sook" in Sino-Korean: 淑 (to be clear); 宿 (to sleep); 肅 (to be somber); 熟 (to be cooked); 叔 (uncle); 夙 (early); 琡 (jade); 菽 (bean). Similarly, here are the Chinese characters that are pronounced as "myung" in Sino-Korean: 明 (bright); 命 (life); 名 (name); 鳴 (to cry); 銘 (to engrave); 冥 (to be dark); 螟 (inchworm); 皿 (dish; vessel); 酩 (to be drunk).

(Note: the Chinese language does a much better job at distinguishing these characters because the Chinese language is tonal. Centuries ago, Korean language used to be tonal as well--which probably helped navigating the Sino-Korean words. But today, Korean language only has the tiniest vestiges of tones, most of which are unnoticed even by Koreans themselves.)

Because there are so many possibilities, it is nearly pointless to ask: "my Korean name is 'Sook-Myung.' What does 'Sook-Myung' mean?" Unless one actually knows the Chinese character behind "sook" and "myung", it is not possible to say what the name means exactly. It can mean anywhere between "clear and bright," "dark jade" and "drunk bean." Like Rebehak pointed out, "Sook-Myung" can mean "destiny," if one wrote the word with these Chinese characters: 宿命.

It is possible to make an educated guess. It is very unlikely for the name "Sook-Myung" to mean "destiny," if only because Koreans customarily do not use the characters 宿命 to name a child. There are certain sets of Chinese characters that Koreans commonly use for a name--which the Korean covered in this post. Based on the commonly used characters, one can somewhat narrow down the possibilities. If the Korean was forced to guess the Chinese characters behind "Sook-Myung," he would have guessed this: 淑明, i.e. "clean and bright" or "demure and wise." (These are the same characters used in Sookmyung Women's University in Seoul.)

But even this guess is inexact, because there are also multiple commonly used Chinese characters that share the same sound. For example, the common Chinese characters for the syllable "yoon" in a Korean name can be 潤 (rich), 允 (truth) or 胤 (first-born). So the bottom line remains the same: to know what a Korean name means, one has to know the Chinese characters used for that name.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Presidential Election and Spy Agency

Dear Korean,

With all the accusations about fixing the election last year, what is likely to happen politically?

Jen S.

Right now, Korean democracy is going through a kind of crisis of confidence. To be sure, it is not the type of severe crisis that Korean democracy has experienced before, such as the military rolling tanks into the heart of Seoul to claim power. Nonetheless, when the nation's spy agency intervenes in the nation's presidential election to favor one candidate over the other, it is a serious concern.

First, some background. It all started in December 11, 2012, mere eight days before Korea's presidential election. The ruling, conservative New Frontier Party, to which the outgoing president Lee Myeong-bak also belonged, fielded Park Geun-hye as the candidate. On the progressive side, the Democratic United Party's Moon Jae-in was gaining steam as the popular independent Ahn Cheol-su bowed out of the race and expressed support for Moon. Park and Moon were neck-and-neck in polls, although Park led slightly in most polls.

Park Geun-hye and Moon Jae-in
(source)

On the night of December 11, a team of Democratic United Party officials and the police rushed to an apartment in Seoul. Earlier, the DUP had received a tip from an insider: the National Intelligence Service, Korea's spy agency, was running a division of some 70 agents who was engaged in a systematic campaign on the Internet to put up comments on popular websites, expressing support for Park and disparaging Moon. The informant also tipped that one such agent was working out of the apartment, to which the DUP officials rushed to with the police.

The police and the officials actually managed to speak with the young woman who was living in the apartment. She denied that she was an NIS agent. The police and the DUP officials left the apartment when the woman agreed to cooperate with the investigation by turning over her computer to the National Elections Commission. However, when the NEC officials later visited the apartment with the DUP officials, the woman locked herself in and refused to come out. For the next 40 hours, DUP officials and journalists laid siege of the apartment until they could obtain a warrant from the court.

Video of the seiged apartment. Through the door, the young woman can be heard

claiming that she was not an NIS agent.

On December 13, the young woman--who in fact turned out to be an NIS agent--emerged out of her apartment and sued the DUP officials for defamation, claiming that she maintained neutrality in politics. She also turned over her laptops to the Seoul Metropolitan Police, which initially estimated that it would take at least one week for them to analyze the NIS agent's Internet activity.

(More of the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Excreting the Dregs

Dear Korean, 

Recently, I realized I know more Asian women who are married to white guys than Asian women married to Asian men. Why is that? And why does it bother me so much? (Disclaimer: I do not live in Flushing, Palisades Park, Annandale, Koreatown NY or LA, etc, where Koreans are the majority.) I am already happily married, and I know that whom one decides to fall in love with is none of my business regardless of race, sex, etc. Nonetheless, I am bothered by this trend, not on a personal level but more on a macro level. Don't know why it bothers me but it does. 

Pete

Allow the Korean to open with a poem:

이불을 꿰매면서 (박노해)
Sewing the Blanket (by Bak No-hae)

이불홑청을 꿰매면서
As I sew the blanket cover
속옷 빨래를 하면서
As I launder the underwear
나는 부끄러움의 가슴을 친다
I beat my chest in shame

똑같이 공장에서 돌아와 자정이 넘도록
We both return from the factory; until past midnight
설거지에 방청소에 고추장단지 뚜껑까지
마무리하는 아내에게
To the wife who washed dishes, cleaned the room
and checked the lid of the gochujang pot
나는 그저 밥달라 물달라 옷달라 시켰었다
I simply ordered, give me food, water and clothes

동료들과 노조일을 하고부터
Ever since I began the labor union with colleagues
거만하고 전제적인 기업주의 짓거리가
The deeds of the arrogant, imperialistic capitalist have been,
대접받는 남편의 이름으로
In the name of the esteemed husband,
아내에게 자행되고 있음을 아프게 직시한다
Perpetrated to the wife; this, I painfully face.

명령하는 남자, 순종하는 여자라고
Men order, women obey
세상이 가르쳐 준 대로
So the world taught me
아내를 야금야금 갉아먹으면서
As I ate away the wife
나는 성실한 모범근로자였다
I was a diligent, model worker

노조를 만들면서
As I establish the union
저들의 칭찬과 모범표창이
Their praise and awards were
고양이 꼬리에 매단 방울소리임을,
Just the sounds of bells on the cat's tail
근로자를 가족처럼 사랑하는 보살핌이
Their talk of loving the workers like their family was
허울 좋은 솜사탕임을 똑똑히 깨달았다
Just a puffed-up cotton candy; this, I clearly realized.

편리한 이론과 절대적 권위와 상식으로 포장된
몸서리쳐지는 이윤추구처럼
Like the shuddering pursuit of profit,
wrapped in a convenient theory, absolute authority and common sense,
나 역시 아내를 착취하고
I, too, exploit the wife, and
가정의 독재자가 되었다
Became the tyrant of the home

투쟁이 깊어 갈수록 실천 속에서
As the struggle deepens, in my actions
나는 저들의 찌꺼기를 배설해 낸다
I excrete their dregs
노동자는 이윤 낳는 기계가 아닌 것처럼
That, as the laborers are not the machine that lays profit
아내는 나의 몸종이 아니고
The wife is not a servant of mine;
평등하게 사랑하는 친구이며 부부라는 것을
That she is a friend, a spouse, who loves equally
우리의 모든 관계는 신뢰와 존중과
민주주의에 바탕해야 한다는 것을
That all of our relationship must be
based on trust, respect and democracy
잔업 끝내고 돌아올 아내를 기다리며
Waiting for the wife, who will return after finishing overtime
이불홑청을 꿰매면서
Sewing the blanket cover
아픈 각성의 바늘을 찌른다
I prick the painful needle of realization

*                  *                  *

Pete's question is common among Asian American men. It is hardly a secret that there is a massive gender disparity in interracial marriages involving Asian Americans. 5.2% of Chinese American men are married white women; 14.5% of Chinese American women are married to white men. 7.9% of Filipino men are married to white women; 27% of Filipino women are married to white men. 18.8% of Japanese American men are married to white women; 38.1% of Japanese American women are married to white men. 5.2% of Korean American men are married to white women; 24.4% of Korean American women are married to white men.

To this reality, Pete's reaction is common among Asian American men: we are vaguely bothered, even as we recognize that it is none of our business who falls in love with whom. What is going on?

(More after the jump)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Korea's Problem is Modernity

I recently finished reading Daniel Tudor's Korea: the Impossible Country. (My review of the book is available at Reading Korea.) My reaction was mostly positive:  it was an excellent overview of contemporary Korea, providing a clear-eyed look at achievements and flaws of today's Korean society. As I wrote in my review, the book is highly recommended.

This, however, does not mean that I agree with the book entirely. I felt that in his book, Tudor relied a bit too often on Confucianism as a crutch, to provide explanations about Korean society that are too just-so. Tudor correctly identifies the full slate of the issues that contemporary Korea has, including high suicide rate, low satisfaction with life, low birthrate, excessive emphasis on education, grueling jobs with very long hours, etc. Tudor also correctly identifies that ultimately, competition--which drove Korea achieving prosperity and freedom at a rate unprecedented in human history--is what causes these social ills in Korea. 

Gangnam is not just for Gangnam Style--it is also the Mecca of plastic surgery in Korea.
It is not a coincidence that glassy skyscrapers, symbols of Korea's prosperity,
house so many plastic surgery clinics.
(source)

Where Tudor and I part company is the reason for such competition. Often, Tudor points to Confucianism as the motivating factor for the excessive competition in today's Korean society. For example, Tudor begins the chapter about competition in Korea with following: "Because Confucianism places a special value on success through education and stable family, Koreans focus on the minimal standard of living at which they will be comparable to others."* Although Tudor then goes into the exposition of how Korea's desperate poverty shaped Korea's national culture (a point with which I am inclined to agree,) starting the chapter with a reference to Confucianism colors the subsequent discussion the chapter.

(*Because I am working off of a translated version of the book, this quote may not be exactly the same as Tudor wrote it. You can blame Mr. Tudor, who sent me a translated version rather than the English original.)

If Tudor's point is that Confucianism contributes to the problems that today's Korean society has, I wonder how Tudor may respond to the following historical tidbit. Pre-modern Korea--through Goryeo and Joseon Dynasties--enjoyed extremely long periods of peace and stability. For nearly a thousand years prior to early 20th century, Korea experienced only one major war that meaningfully threatened its survival. At all other times, Korea had a strong, unitary central government that was able to implement its vision for improving Korean society. Needless to say, such vision was informed by Confucianism.

And by Joseon Dynasty, such effort was wildly successful. One can argue that Korea has reached the pinnacle of an agricultural society by that point. Organized by village units with centuries of farming experience, Koreans have perfected the delicate balance of producing the most amount of harvest without overtaxing the soil. Koreans also diversified their crop, allowing the soil to heal and providing more variety to their table. (Recall that traditional Korean cuisine features more than 1,000 types of edible plants.) The village unit also made effective use of the labor, setting precise schedules of who works when, for what task.**

(**From 김건태, "19세기 집약적 농법의 확산과 작물의 다각화", 역사비평 2012년 겨울호 [Kim Geon-tae, Intensive Agronomy, Diversification of Crops in the 19th Century])

The result was a society that produced everything it needed without too much effort. Thanks to efficient farming, Koreans always had plenty to eat. Indeed, the amount of food that Koreans traditionally consumed nearly defies belief. A diary from the 17th century describes that Koreans ate 7 hob [홉] of rice per meal, or approximately 420 grams. This is around triple of the amount of rice Koreans eat per meal today. Yet Koreans never had to work very hard to eat. Studies show that Koreans did not work all that much except in periods such as planting and harvesting rice, because labor was distributed efficiently. Contrary to the stereotype of hard-working Asians, foreign travelers' account of Korea invariably describe Koreans as "lazy." In truth, Koreans were not lazy. They simply produced everything they needed without spending all that much time.

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

The Good History Deniers

Dear Korean,

A question on Quora reads: How do the Japanese think about World War II? I was wondering if this answer to the question is something that you would agree with. How would you respond?

Joel B.

Before reading this post, the Korean will highly recommending reading the answer provided by Ms. Makiko Itoh, which is linked above. August 15 is the V-J Day, when World War II ended in 1945 with Imperial Japan's unconditional surrender. On this important date, the Korean found it appropriate to address this question.

But first, a quick detour. Ta-nehisi Coates, likely the best contemporary American writer when it comes to discussing race relations, recently wrote a terrific New York Times op-ed entitled The Good, Racist People. The message that Coates delivered through the op-ed is simple and devastating: even good people with sincerely good intentions contribute to, and perpetuate, racism in America. When it comes to dealing with large-scale, historical evil, it is not enough for one simply live with good intentions--because road to hell is paved with such good intentions.

The same is true with the way the Japanese approach World War II. I have said this before, and I will say it again: Japan, as a whole, think that it did nothing wrong during World War II. The steady stream of outrageous statements made by prominent Japanese politicians and intellectuals can only continue in an environment in which such worldview is tolerated. (Just two of the latest hits: (1) Japan's Deputy Prime Minister said Japan should amend its Peace Constitution like the way Nazis amended the Weimar Constitution; (2) Japanese navy built the largest ship since WWII and named it "Izumo", one of the ships that were used to invade China.)

When news of such outrageous statements hit the wire, a common response is to attribute it simply to a small faction of right-wing, nationalist Japanese people, implying that the vast majority of the Japanese ought to be spared from the responsibility of such historical amnesia. This is incorrect on several levels. First, the Japanese right-wing is anything but small. The Japanese nationalists are currently dominating the political scene, winning the last two parliamentary elections in a landslide. Their leader, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, proclaimed that he would withdraw Japan's apology to former Comfort Women and denied that Imperial Japan forcibly recruited the Comfort Women to serve as sex slaves. Right-wing thugs roam the streets freely in broad daylight, waving the "Rising Sun" flag, blaring propaganda from their infamous "black vans" and engage in harassment campaigns against Koreans living in Japan.

Nationalist black van, commonly seen
in the streets of Japan
(source)

For those who will predictably chime in about how Abe's election was more about the sagging Japanese economy: so was Hitler's election. In a normal country, a candidate's penchant for denying war atrocities would be met with swift termination of the candidate's political career, regardless of his views on economic policies. That did not happen with Abe, which speaks volumes. The mindset of the good, moral Japanese people that elected a man like Shinzo Abe is equally responsible for Japan's collective denial of history.

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Your Culture is Bigger than You

Dear Korean,

I was hoping that you might respond to this review I did of Gish Jen's book on Asian and Western subjectivity. The review is 90 percent summary and expresses a few reservations about the cross-cultural psychologists that Jen relies on to make her generalizations about culture.

I'd be curious to see whether you find this research to be credible. There's no questions that it conforms almost exactly to the "thin and monochromatic" views of the differences between East and West adopted by Westerners, including Malcolm Gladwell, with the (perhaps?) meaningful difference that most of the cross-cultural researchers are Asians from Asia, and that Gish Jen is herself an avowedly Asian American novelist fixated on the question of East and West. While many Asian Americans and other politicized types take strong exception to the generalizations about Asians contained in this body of research, most regular Asians and Asian Americans I ask about seem to more or less agree that the overall schema fits into the pattern of their own experience.

Wesley Yang

If you are wondering because the name of the questioner sounds familiar--yes, it's that Wesley Yang, who wrote the article titled Paper Tigers for the New York Magazine, which elicited a strongly critical response from me. Let me first say this: it takes a remarkable strength of character to have been blasted in a way that Mr. Yang did, and come back for seconds. I am flattered that he is asking for my take; I can only hope I don't disappoint.

Mr. Yang's question is how I feel about the cross-cultural research involving Asian culture. But I see a second, underlying question: in trying to understand Asian culture, how are we to treat our own experience as Asian Americans? The second question, in particular, is important and timely. I just got done blasting non-Asians for trying to essentialize Asia through "cultural explanations." Then what about Asian Americans? How are we to approach our own culture? What do we make of the fact that Gish Jen attempts to explain her father's life through these studies? What are we supposed to think if those studies seems to explain our lives as well?

First question first: how do I feel about research regarding culture? Contrary to what Mr. Yang may think, I am open to them. I will accept the conclusion of the research (with the residual amount of skepticism consistent with the scientific method) if the research is conducted rigorously. The reason for this is simple: clearly, culture affects behavior. As a blogger who writes about Korean culture, it would be strange if I did not recognize this. Accordingly, a rigorously conducted study may well reveal the nexus at which culture translates to behavior. (Of course, normal caveats apply--after all, many studies end up being quite wrong.)

This proposition is so self-evident that it is almost not worth saying out loud. The real question, whose answer is not as self-evident, is: how much do these studies explain? How much do those studies explain the national culture? How much do those studies explain the reality that unfolds before our eyes? And how much do those studies inform our own experience as Asian Americans?

These questions are part and parcel of a larger and more fundamental question: how are we supposed to understand and explain culture? Once we have a solid grasp on this fundamental issue, the rest falls into place.

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Culturalism, Gladwell, and Airplane Crashes

A few weeks ago, I attended a PGA golf tournament. You might think watching golf is boring, but I beg to differ: professional golf tournaments offer a chance to witness firsthand one of the amazing athletic feats in the world. 

If an ordinary weekend golfer made ten great shots in a row, that might be the best day of her golfing life. If I saw two ordinary weekend golfers making ten great shots in a row at the same time, I would start exclaiming out loud after each shot and buy a round of beer for both of them. Now, imagine watching a hundred fifty golfers playing, in a championship golf course that is designed to leave a very small margin of error. Imagine watching virtually every one of them knocking off ten great shots in a row. The good players may hit 20 or 30 great shots in a row; the best ones, 40, 50, 60 great shots. This is why a golf tournament is so exciting: it is a collective display of perfection, shown over and over and over again.

Against the backdrop of such perfection, errors become magnified. The mistakes end up drawing more attention than the shots well hit. If all three golfers in a group hit the perfect drive, such that their balls are a foot away from one another's in the middle of the fairway, the gallery would give a polite applause. But if one of the golfers shanks it into the woods, the gallery would exhale a downcast "ooh," and hurry toward the golf ball among the trees like buzzards toward a rotting carcass.

I am not an exception; watching a tournament, I also fixate on the golfers' mistakes. When I see a golfer hitting a poor shot, I take a moment trying to recreate the swing in my mind, trying to see if I could identify what went wrong. I picture the golfer making his approach to the ball; the stance; the back swing; the alignment of the club head when the back swing reaches the top; the down swing; location of the hip during the down swing; the follow-through. Then I think about the path of the ball flight, and try to identify which part of the swing contributed to the deviation from the intended path.

And then I do something peculiar. I look up which country the golfer is from. And if I happen to remember a poor shot from a different golfer of the same country, I try to see the bigger picture in addition to their respective swings. I start wondering if there is something about that country's culture that affects their golf swings. In the particular golf tournament attended, I saw two Canadian players hitting a poor shot. One golfer hit it short in the 10th hole, dropping the ball into the water. The other, in the narrow 16th hole, badly sliced the drive and ended up in the woods. Quickly, I mustered every scrap of knowledge I had about Canadian culture in my head, and I tried to connect the dots: is there something about Canadian culture that leads to poor golf shots by two different golfers at two different holes?

Just kidding--of course I am kidding. Obviously, I did not think about connecting Canadian culture and poor golf shots, nor do I ever try to connect any national culture with poor golf shots. Nobody in the right mind would do such a thing. We all know that.

But if we all know that, why do so many people do the same thing when it comes to airplane crashes?

*         *         *

(source)

This post is about the Asiana Airline's crash-landing in the San Francisco Airport last Saturday. It is also about culturalism. The term "culturalism" is my coinage, which I introduced the concept several years ago in this blog. Culturalism is the unwarranted impulse to explain people's behavior with a "cultural difference", whether real or imagined. Because the culturalist impulse always attempts to explain more with culture than warranted, the "cultural difference" used in a cultural explanation is more often imagined than real. To paraphrase Abraham Maslow, to a man with a culturalist impulse, every problem looks like a cultural problem.

Seen collectively, landing an aircraft is not unlike a golf tournament. It is not an easy task to land a giant, fast-moving tube of metal onto a small, defined target while keeping everyone inside the tube alive. Each landing of a jumbo jet may as well be a small miracle. Yet, like a golf tournament filled with the world's greatest players, air travel is a marvelous display of perfection: airplanes manage to land millions of times every year with very few accidents. (Let us be charitable to the much-maligned airline industry, and define an "accident" as something more significant than a delayed flight or lost luggage.) It is common knowledge that you are much more likely to die in the car that you drive to the airport, than in the airplane that you board at that airport. 

Perhaps we focus so much on a plane crash for the same reason that golf watchers focus more on a poor shot than a good one: it is a rare deviation from perfection. Like the golf gallery surrounding an errant ball landed among the trees, we surround and gawk at every minute detail of the latest airplane crash. We run through all kinds of scenarios about what went wrong, and talk about them. We explain, then we over-explain--which is when the culturalist impulse kicks in. Already, venerable news organizations like CNN, the Washington Post and NBC News are wondering aloud: did Korean culture contribute to this extremely rare event?

(More after the jump)

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Why are Korean Names Two Syllables?

(To read more about Korean names, here is a list of all posts related to Korean names.)

Dear Korean,

I want to know what the deal with the two syllable names. After almost 8 months of teaching and living here in Korea 99.9% of the names I come across are two syllable names. Why the two syllables all the time? And why is it ok to break that rule sometimes?

Jo-Anna

Jo-Anna is correct that most Korean names are two syllables, like, for example, Jin-yeong [진영]. Why the two syllables? 

Actually, this question was partially answered in the previous post that explained dollimja [돌림자]. To recap: generally, Koreans follow a convention in which they use one of the syllables to signify the generational level, and the other syllable is given as the "true" name. Thus, a traditional Korean "given" name ends up being two syllables: one to show your generational level, the other your "true" name.

Dollimja tradition is somewhat weakened today, but the convention for two syllables stayed. For Koreans, it just looks normal for a given name to have two syllables. So even in case of a given name that do not follow the dollimja system, Koreans tend to name their children with two syllables. For example, purely Korean names, by definition, do not follow dollimja, because dollimja requires Chinese characters. Yet even Korean people with purely Korean names tend to have two-syllable first names. (E.g., Ha-neul [하늘] or Na-rae [나래]).

Deviation from this rule can come in two forms: a single-syllable given name, or a given name with 3+ syllables. Single-syllable name is generally still in the dollimja framework. Certain clans (e.g. Yangcheon Heo [양천 허씨]) consciously reject the "generational syllable," and name their children with a single syllable. Certain others name their firstborn son with the generational syllable only (without a "true" name,) to signify that the child is the first of the generation.

On the other hand, given names with 3+ syllables--which are extremely rare--are almost always a result of the parent's attempt to use a purely Korean word. For example, in 1997 there was a notorious kidnap-murder case involving an 8-year-old girl. Although a murder of an 8-year-old is a sensational news under any circumstance, the murdered girl's name was so unusual that it stayed with Korean public's consciousness like the way Jon-Benet Ramsay's name stayed with American public consciousness. The girl's name? Take a deep breath: 박초롱초롱빛나리, a given name with whopping seven syllables.

Interestingly, because the two-syllable convention is so strong, even Koreans with 3+ syllable given names are usually compelled to use a two-syllable nickname. (For example, in a lot of official forms in Korea, there are only two spaces to fill out one's first name.) The murdered 8-year-old was also known as 박나리, taking the last two syllables of her name.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.