The Obligatory Gangnam Style Post

Dear Korean,

We've all heard it and we all love it, but what exactly is Gangnam Style and what makes it so popular in your opinion?

Chris

The Korean tried. He really tried to avoid the fad. He thought this was going to blow over in a few days, and everyone will feel a bit silly afterward. But no . . .

Gangnam Style just kept coming on -- 273 million views and counting, appearances on network televisions shows, continuous climb up the charts and numerous homages to the original. (The latest one: from the Ohio University marching band.) Questions about Gangnam Style just kept coming also, even though the Korean has been slower with blog updates.

So, FINE. Let's discuss Gangnam Style. First, what exactly is "Gangnam Style"? "Gangnam" literally means "south of the river." But generally, Gangnam refers to a specific area in Seoul located south of the Han River that bisects the city. The area generally encompasses the northern half of (confusing name alert) Gangnam-gu and Seocho-gu, covering neighborhoods like Apgujeong, Sinsa and (confusing name alert, again) Gangnam. It is an area with posh malls, expensive dining and swanky clubs. People who populate those areas are rich, stylish and beautiful, carrying all the appropriate status symbols like imported cars and fancy handbags. They are often celebrities or heirs of Korea's magnates.

The Korean was raised in Apgujeong, so he is the original Gangnam man. And it has been a little bit funny to see his old home described breathlessly as some place that "has no real equivalent in the United States. The closest approximation would be Silicon Valley, Wall Street, Beverly Hills, Manhattan’s Upper East Side, and Miami Beach all rolled into one[,]" according to the Wall Street Journal (quoting this clueless blogger.) Finding the U.S. equivalent of Gangnam is quite easy: it's West Hollywood / Beverly Hills. It has celebrities, style, money, and nice homes and good schools just behind those flashing lights.

(Aside:  This "no equivalent in U.S." trope is really overused, and in this instance, the comparison is clearly hyperbolic and incorrect. Gangnam is obviously not a Silicon Valley, since there is no huge concentration of tech companies in Gangnam. Nor is it Wall Street -- that would be Gwanghwamun / City Hall area, north of the river, where all the major banks have their headquarters. Gangnam is not Upper East Side either, since Gangnam is decidedly nouveau riche. The old money of the kind that occupies the Upper East Side of New York is found in Yeonhee-dong of Seoul, north of the river. The Miami Beach comparison is too dumb to address.)

So when PSY speaks of "Gangnam Style," he means to invoke the trendy, stylish image. But of course, what PSY ends up doing in the music video is a parody of such image. He is wearing a ridiculous suit and dances a ridiculous dance. He appears in decidedly un-Gangnam areas:  children's playground, on a paddle boat, riverside park, a bus with a disco ball, etc. A couple of times, PSY does encounter what might be fairly close to a Gangnam-type occasion -- a man driving a fancy car (a cameo appearance by the legendary comedian Yoo Jae-seok,) and a beautiful woman (cameo by Hyuna from the girl group 4Minute) flirting. But those moments quickly dissolve into another round of ridiculous dancing.

(Aside:  If you immediately understood the relevance of the bus with a disco ball, you have a black belt in Korean culture. The "party" bus is usually for older Korean men and women, who would like to dance away from the public view. To release their urges to shake it, they would charter these buses with total strangers and have a mobile dancing session. By the way, those old Korean folks dance about as well as your parents. It is probably the most un-hip mobile party in the world -- which fits perfectly with Gangnam Style's aesthetics.)

Having said that, what made Gangnam Style so popular?

(More after the jump)

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

Liberal Education and Coffee

Korea famously boasts an excellent educational system, which sends over 80 percent of its high school students to college. But as Korean economy faces a persistent problem of youth unemployment, commentators are observing that Koreans are being over-educated. Essentially, the idea is that Korea has youth unemployment because it has too many college graduates. The following BBC article nicely captures that sentiment:

South Korea's education system is held up as a model around the world. Some 80% of its high-school students now go on to further education. But according to South Korea's president, that academic success is creating its own "social problem" - a youth unemployment rate of 6.7% in October, more than twice the national average, even as parts of the labour market are hungry for workers.

"Because there are so many people graduating from university at the moment, and looking only for high-end jobs, there's a mismatch between the job-hunters, and the positions available," explains Kim Hwan Sik, director of vocational training at the Education Ministry.

South Korea's Wasted Youth [BBC]

(Aside:  In a typical BBC fashion, it messed up the name of Korean grandmother interviewed in the article by referring to her as Ms. Eun Ju-sung. In all likelihood the lady's name would be Ms. Ju Sung-Eun, and in no event should she be referred to as Ms. Ju-sung. Readers of this blog would know that BBC is prone to egregious errors when it comes to covering Korea.)

The Korean thinks the idea that Korea has "too many college graduates" is incorrect, for a number of reasons. To give a short (and incomplete) summary of the reasons:

1. The idea ignores the fact that Korea currently has the lowest birthrate in the world, which means Korea will soon face a severe shortage of people generally, and young people in particular. Whatever youth unemployment there exists currently is a temporary problem.
   
   
2. Research on this topic shows that it is not the college degree that hinders employment, but differences in other skills. In other words, the young unemployed population is unemployed not because their standards are too high, but because they are not desirable candidates for the employers.
   
   
3. The idea is based on the erroneous premise that as long as we deny people from attending college, we can sufficiently crush their aspirations enough for them to accept menial jobs.

In this post, however, the Korean exclusively wants to discuss the reason he considers the most important, that is:  4. Liberal education has value that reaches far beyond employment, such that it enriches the society even if the educated people are unemployed.

To be sure, the benefits of liberal education is not obvious -- which is partially why Korean president Lee Myeong-Bak has said: "A soccer player does not need a diploma from Seoul National University; he only needs to kick the ball well," as he joined the chorus of observation that Koreans are getting over-educated. But in some rare instances, one can get a clear and unobstructed glimpse of the benefits of liberal education manifested in a society. One of those rare instances involve coffee in Korea.

(source)

(More after the jump)

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

Are the Japanese Stealing Kimchi?

Dear Korean,

Is it true that Japan is making a Japanese version of the Korean Kimchi? I heard that the Japanese are calling it Kimuchi and hailing it as part of their own culture.

Bryan

The Korean previously explained that Korean nationalism drives many Koreans to truly stupid lows, like having a testosterone-fueled rage over women's figure skating or brutally killing pheasants with a hammer. But among the many different instances of nationalism-induced stupidity, this "kimuchi" thing might be the stupidest. Allow the Korean to state this as clearly as possible: this is a non-issue over which only the dumb people are worked up.

Yes, the Japanese are making kimchi. They call it "kimuchi", in an attempt to pronounce "kimchi" in Japanese. And kimuchi tastes different from kimchi, because the Japanese make it in their style. This is what happens the world over -- food travels, changes, and gets a different name.

Unfortunately, one can be a nationalist, or one can be a nationalist and a dumbass. And when the nationalists who are also dumbasses see the Japanese making kimuchi and let their paranoia run wild -- "Oh noes, the Japs are stealing our food! Now I'm going to have to write hateful shitpile on the Internet!" Never mind the fact that there is absolutely none, no indication that the Japanese intended to steal "kimchi" and claim it to be their own.

Recall that the Korean is writing this as an insane Korean food purist. He thinks that 95 percent of "Korean restaurants" in the U.S. do not deserve the descriptor "Korean." He thinks most of Seoul's restaurants serve cattle feed. But not even the Korean is insane enough to think that the Japanese are somehow trying to steal kimchi. The Korean might not recognize the Japanese imitation of spicy pickled vegetables as kimchi, but he is not delusional enough to think that the Japanese are trying to steal something.

(Aside: the Korean did lose his shit when a fancy restaurant near Seattle served "prawn kimchee salad" that had nothing that even remotely connected the dish to being a kimchi -- no salted vegetables, no fermentation, no spice, just prawn and arugula salad with some kind dressing. It was delicious, but it was not kimchi.)

The bad thing about dumbasses is that if there are enough of them, people who should know better cater to them. (See, e.g., extended warranty programs, Michelle Bachmann.) In this instance, the prime culprit is the newspapers that are quite content to manufacture a controversy. So we have articles like this -- in Korea's most-read newspaper, no less -- that try to play the same game with makkeolli (Korean rice wine) one more time by pointing out that Japanese breweries are now producing their own version of makkeolli, named "matkoli." (Again, the Japanese pronunciation of the same word and not renaming.) The article is a bald appeal to stupidity: "The Japs are trying to steal makkeolli by pronouncing it 'matkolli'! Just like they tried to steal kimchi with kimuchi! To arms, Korean people!"

But the more interesting part of the article is the comments, which are overwhelmingly critical of the article for being "narrow-minded", "alarmist", "filled with inferiority and victim complex," etc. Elsewhere in Korean Internet, the reaction is about the same. Dumbass nationalism in Korea may create a lot of sound and fury, but at the end of the day, most Koreans recognize them to be stupid.

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

Religions in Korea?

Dear Korean,

I would like to know of the common religion that most Koreans believe in. Is there some sort of fixed Korean religion, or are they just a bunch of Koreans who believe in different religions or so? If so, what other religion do they believe in?

Max


Dear Korean,

Recently there was a news story of Armenian and Greek Orthodox monks in Jerusalem (again) brawling over procedure/territory. That makes me wonder whether the factions in Korean Buddhism, or, for that matter, Christianity, share a particular enmity. (You know how God can fire up some folk.) Personally, I can see where the followers of Mithras might have a problem with the rest of the world (those pesky safety regulations), but what is the situation in the Land of the Morning Calm?

Cactus McHarris


Dear Korean,

Do you know how common traditional Korean religions are in Korea these days? I used to have the impression that most Koreans no longer practice traditional religions, and that most are not religious or are some form of Christian--but sometimes I still come across stories about rituals in the mountains or business execs moving their family graves for good luck but at horrendous cost. I'm sure some Koreans are still following traditional religious ways, but do you know how common it is? Are there any stats anywhere? As for fortune telling, I know it's still widespread, but almost all young people I've talked to (under 30) say they go to a fortune teller just for fun and don't take it seriously.

John


Dear questioners,

First of all, a full disclosure – the Korean is a Presbyterian. Discussing religion is always a tricky subject, so that disclosure was necessary.

Let us address Max’s question first. The answer is that Koreans generally believe in different religions. According to the 2005 census by Statistics Korea (a quasi-governmental body dedicated to creating official statistics,) here is the breakdown of major religions in Korea: Buddhists 22.8 percent, Protestants 18.3 percent, Catholics 10.9 percent and 1 percent for Other.

What you may notice is that there is a very large population of Koreans who have no religion at all, since the religious population only adds up to 53.1 percent. This does not mean the non-religious Koreans are atheists – it just means that many Koreans simply do not care too much about religion. Accordingly, religion is not really a part of public discourse in Korea. What may be controversial in the United States because of religion – e.g. abortion or stem cell research – is not controversial in Korea.

To answer Cactus’ question, people of different religions in Korea get along with one another quite well. To be sure, recently there has been some backlash against some Protestants who proselytize very aggressively, mostly in the form of nasty Internet rants and some scattered cases of vandalism on church buildings. Also, the fact that the current president Lee Myeong-Bak is a devout Christian whose cabinet includes some of his church members draws some collateral fire against Christianity from those who dislike Lee. (For example, when Lee was a presidential candidate, Buddhist leaders of Korea demanded that Lee to be more accommodating for Buddhists. Lee promised he would.)

But in the grand scheme of things – especially given our knowledge of how explosive and deadly a religious strife could be – religious life in Korea is generally diverse and tolerant.

-EDIT 12/11/09- Upon reading Cactus' question again, the Korean realized he read it completely wrong. How embarrassing -- the Korean is very sorry. Let us actually address it. The different factions within each religion in Korea mostly get along just fine. But there are occasional instances of tension that sometimes escalate to physical jostling. For example in 2006, there was a physical altercation between Buddhist monks of Seonam-sa and of the Buddhist head organization Taego-jong, the second largest faction of Buddhism in Korea. (The largest is called Jogye-jong.) The altercation occurred because the monks of Seonam-sa temple wanted more independence from the head organization, and Taego-jong was not going to stand for it. This incident was roundly mocked by irreligious Koreans.

Nothing to see here folks, just brawling monks at Seonam-sa.
No nunchakus or anything.

Also, certain Protestant churches in Korea are known for their extremely aggressive proselytizing, which includes denigrating other Christian branches and other religions. But while they are highly visible due to their shrill loudness on the streets and on the Internet, their absolute number is quite negligible. So while those groups generate some amount of tension, the manifestation of that tension is usually confined to flame wars on the Internet message boards, not any actual physical altercation. -EDIT over-

Now, onto John’s question. The question about Korea’s traditional religion is slightly tricky because there is some ambiguity as to what really counts as “traditional religion.” For example, vast majority of Koreans perform rituals (e.g. jesa) for their dead ancestors, which may be considered a traditional religion in the form of ancestor worship. But in fact, those rituals are not particularly religious – they are more like a memorial ceremony rather than ancestor worship. Evidencing this characteristic, both Buddhists and Catholics in Korea participate in jesa and other traditional rituals. Korean Protestants also engage in the traditional rituals, although they tend to somewhat modify the rituals.

Also, there are a host of minor organized religions in Korea that may be considered “traditional religion,” in a sense that they contain some reflection of traditional faith. Such religions include Won Buddhism, Chondogyo, Zeungsangyo, Daejonggyo, etc. For example, Daejonggyo, established in 1909, is based on worshipping Dangun, the mythical progenitor of all Koreans back in 2333 B.C.E. But the influence of these religions is nearly negligible, as less than 0.5 percent of all Koreans believe in those minor religions combined.

Then there are the traditional, unorganized faiths/superstitions, such as fortune telling, feng shui, shamanistic rituals (gut), etc. There is no real statistics about how prevalent these things are. The Korean’s own experience has been that the oldest generation of Koreans takes them seriously, while the rest not so much. (The Korean Grandmother, 94 years young, is a huge fan.) It is not very easy to see a real-deal gut, for example – which is a pity, because it is quite a spectacle.

Yeongdang Poong'eo gut - a gut asking for plenty of fish for the fishermen (Source)

Instead, the younger generation in Korea has turned them into somewhat of an entertainment, like the way American girls use a mirror and a brush to find out what their future husbands look like during a sleepover. There are a number of “fortune telling cafes” in Korea, where mostly young clientele enjoy coffee while different fortune tellers visit the tables to read their future.

But, to the extent it does not take too much effort, many Koreans lukewarmly follow those superstitions in a eh-what-have-I-got-to-lose manner. For example, many Koreans do consult some feng shui-type book or website when choosing the gravesite for their parents. Similarly, many Koreans do a perfunctory check when naming their children to make sure they did not inadvertently saddled their children with a name that invites bad luck.

One time when he was living in Korea, the Korean visited a fortune teller, whose trick was to pull three Chinese characters out of hundreds that represented the Korean's personality and destiny. The characters for the Korean were: 才, 才 and 才. Talent, talent, talent. The Korean does not (and did not) take fortune telling very seriously, but he's not going to lie -- that felt pretty good.

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

History Behind Seo Taiji's Sogyeokdong

[Cross-posted on Dramabeans]

Dear Korean,

Recently, Seo Taiji released a song called Sogyeokdong. From the music video and my limited Korean skills, I gathered that Sogyeodong must be a historical place. What exactly transpired there and what is the significance of the setting for Seo Taiji's music video? 

Curious person with poor Korean skills :(

Here is a simple rule for AAK!:  if you ask something about the new Seo Taiji song, your question will be published. First, let's listen to the music in question.

소격동
Sogyeokdong

나 그대와 둘이 걷던 그 좁은 골목계단을 홀로 걸어요
I walk alone, on that narrow alley stairs that the two of us used to walk
그 옛날의 짙은 향기가 내 옆을 스치죠
The thick scent of the past sweeps by me

널 떠나는 날 사실 난...
On the way I left, actually I...

등 밑 처마 고드름과 참새소리 예쁜 이 마을에 살 거예요
I will live in this pretty village, with icicles on the roof and sparrows chirping
소격동을 기억하나요 지금도 그대로 있죠
Do you remember Sogyeokdong? It still remains the same

아주 늦은 밤 하얀 눈이 왔었죠
On a very late night, the white snow fell
소복이 쌓이니 내 맘도 설렜죠
As they piled on, my heart stirred too
나는 그날 밤 단 한숨도 못 잤죠
I could not sleep that night, not even a wink
잠들면 안돼요 눈을 뜨면 사라지죠
Don't fall asleep; it all disappears when we open our eyes*

어느 날 갑자기 그 많던 냇물이 말라갔죠
The stream that used to be so big suddenly dried up
내 어린 마음도 그 시냇물처럼 그렇게 말랐겠죠
My young heart, like that stream, must have dried up too

너의 모든 걸 두 눈에 담고 있었죠
In my two eyes, I carried everything about you
소소한 하루가 넉넉했던 날
The days when the small days were more than enough
그러던 어느 날 세상이 뒤집혔죠
Then one day, the world turned upside down
다들 꼭 잡아요 잠깐 사이에 사라지죠
Everyone hold on tight; it all disappears in a moment

잊고 싶진 않아요 하지만 나에겐
I do not want to forget; but to me
사진 한 장도 남아있지가 않죠
Not even a single photo remained
그저 되뇌면서 되뇌면서 나 그저 애를 쓸 뿐이죠
I can simply try, repeating to myself, repeating to myself

아주 늦은 밤 하얀 눈이 왔었죠
On a very late night, the white snow fell
소복이 쌓이니 내 맘도 설렜죠
As they piled on, my heart stirred too
나는 그날 밤 단 한숨도 못 잤죠
I could not sleep that night, not even a wink
잠들면 안돼요 눈을 뜨면 사라지죠
Don't fall asleep; it all disappears when we open our eyes*

*Translation note:  Although TK assigned "it all" and "we" as subjects in this sentence, in the original Korean lyrics it is unclear who is opening his/her eyes, and exactly what is disappearing. Because Korean language does not require a subject in a sentence, this type of poetic ambiguity is common.

*                   *                   *

As the questioner gleaned, Sogyeokdong [소격동, pronounced "soh-kyok-dong"] is an actual place in Seoul. Located within Jongno-gu [종로구], it is in the heart of the old Seoul, abutting the Gyeongbokgung [경복궁] palace on the east side. Together with Samcheong-dong [삼청동], Gahoe-dong [가회동], Jae-dong [재동], Gye-dong [계동], etc., it is a part of the neighborhood called Bukchon [북촌]. Because of its quaint narrow alleyways and well-preserved traditional Korean houses, Bukchon today is a popular tourist destination. 

Due to its central location, Sogyeokdong has been at the forefront of Korea's turbulent modern history. However, Seo Taiji did not choose to sing about Sogyeokdong simply for the sake of history. He actually grew up in the neighborhood, having attended the nearby Jaedong Elementary School (which is Korea's oldest elementary school, established in 1895.) In an interview, Seo said that he simply wanted to sing about his childhood, but doing so would have been impossible without touching upon the history he had seen. The result, in TK's estimation, is a more elegant expression of the sinister sense of fear and loss that permeated the experience of Korean children at the time.

Seo Taiji was born in 1972, which means he experienced his Sogyeokdong childhood in the early to mid-1980s. What was going on in Korea in the 1980s?

(More after the jump.)

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

Ask a Korean! News: "Journalism" in North Korea (Part I)

[Series Index]

The ever-awesome Mr. Joo Seong-Ha began running a series about "journalism" in North Korea, particularly with respect to the official newspaper, Rodong Shinmun. Below is the translation.

*                       *                      *

In North Korea, journalists are usually depicted as the party's "trumpeteer," holding down the forefront of the ideological battle line -- because it is the media and the journalists who work for it that are directly in charge of the brainwashing education, such as deification of Kim Jong-Il's family line or popular propaganda, which forms a significant pillar for maintaining the North Korean system.

One can glean the importance that North Korea places on ideology from the definition of the "Strong and Prosperous Nation" [강성대국], which it had been working to achieve for the last decade. North Korea's definition of a "Strong and Prosperous Nation" is a nation that achieved ideological strength, military strength and economic strength. North Korea argues that it already achieved ideological strength and military strength. Therefore, it has achieved the status of a Strong and Prosperous Nation as soon as the economy revives enough to achieve the economic strength. 

The Strong and Prosperous Nation theory appeared in 1998, and there was a controversy at that time also. I was still living in North Korea at the time. The North Korean people quietly spoke among themselves: "It makes sense to talk about economic or military strength, but ideological strength is some kind of a wordplay." At any rate, the fact that ideological strength comes first in the definition of a Strong and Prosperous Nation is a great example of how much North Korea values ideology.

Fittingly, the organization of Rodong Shinmun is rather unique. Rodong Shinmun has 15 departments: editorial,  party history education, revolution education, party life [TK: not that kind of "party"], popular front, industry, agriculture, society/culture, science/education, South Korea, foreign cooperation, international, reporting, photo reporting, and foreign correspondents. Among them, four departments -- party history education, revolution education, party life and popular front -- serve the role of politics department in a typical South Korean newspaper. This shows how much North Korea values ideological propaganda.

In a South Korean newspaper, society department usually takes up the most number of journalists. Sports also have a large place, as there are separate sports newspapers and broadcast media has separate sports news programs. But in Rodong Shinmun, there are no separate departments for society, culture or sports. Among the 15 departments, society/culture department handles society, culture and sports. Other North Korean newspapers follow a similar pattern.

This organization is closely related to the way Rodong Shinmun publishes its papers. Rodong Shinmun prints six pages, organized as following: the front page carries latest news about Kim Jong-Il, deification education, foreign public opinion admiring Kim Jong-Il and editorial. The second page contains stories about the revolutionary heritage, material for educating the labor class and activities of the party workers. The third page also contains stories of Kim Jong-Il's deification and the loyal subjects who followed Kim. The fourth page finally contains short news about the national administration or economic workers, as well as human interest stories, cultural and sporting events. If the North Korean national team loses in an international match, the loss rarely makes the news. The fifth page is for South Korea and the sixth page is for international news.

The most important department of Rodong Shinmun is the editorial board. Only the journalists with the greatest ideological readiness and writing prowess are selected for the board. They usually carry the superlative titles like People's Reporter, Distinguished Reporter or Level 1 Reporter. Of course, it is also the case for a South Korean newspaper's editorial board to have excellent, veteran journalists. Rodong Shinmun's editorial board writes the standard arguments for the party's policies, op-ed and editorial, which are the stories on which Kim Jong-Il focuses the most.

The stories on the front page of Rodong Shinmun frequently come with a black box around it. The box signifies that Kim Jong-Il read the story and approved it before it went to print. People are required to study such stories.

The editorial board is popular because a journalist who writes a good story has a good chance to be promoted to a party officer, if he can grab Kim Jong-Il's attention. In North Korean newspapers, even the editorial carries the name of the writer. Unlike South Korean newspapers that usually print two or three editorials a day, there are many journalists on the editorial board of Rodong Shinmun that cannot even print one or two editorials bearing his name in a year. There are editorials where a choice of a single word took a month.

However, there are journalists who are considered even more important than the members of the editorial board -- the journalists who accompany Kim Jong-Il on his field inspections. A South Korean analogue would be a journalist in the politics department whose beat is the Blue House. In North Korea, such reporters are referred to as "The First Reporter."

Foreign correspondents are admired in South Korea, but even more so in North Korea where a travel abroad is itself a privilege. North Korea sends out foreign correspondents to countries with which it has amicable relations, such as China, Russia and other countries in the Middle East or Africa. But becoming a foreign correspondent in North Korea is not a meritocracy -- without extraordinary connections, a reporter is better off not even thinking about the possibility. Once abroad, the correspondent constantly focuses on the opportunities to earn dollars, because keeping the person who sent you out happy guarantees the longer stay abroad.

South Korean reporters have to propose newsworthy stories in their departments every morning. But in North  Korea, the Propaganda Bureau of the Labor Party gives an order to the newspapers and TV stations, and the department chiefs then order the reporters about what to write. For example, when June 25 -- anniversary for Korean War -- draws near, the party would order an "anti-America week." Then the officers of the newspaper make the reporters focus on writing stories that would stoke anti-American sentiments. Such campaign continues year-around, with themes like "honoring our leader" week or "socialist patriotism" week.

The North Korean media has more framed "teachings" and "remarks" hanging on the hallways and offices than almost any other place in North Korea. Here, "teachings" are quotes from Kim Il-Sung and "remarks" are quotes from Kim Jong-Il. Some of them are quite revealing, and not commonly seen in any other place: "Be the party's eternal helper, assistant and advisor," "Even if you want to take ten steps, take a single step if the party tells you to take a single step," "Reporters must not breathe on their own accord," etc. In other words, journalists are ordered to be the perfect puppet of the Labor Party.

In most countries of the world, the most important virtue for a journalist is the courage and conscience that do not bend to the power. But in North Korea, a journalist equals the Labor Party's propagandist worker.

北 노동신문 1면의 ‘검은테두리’에 숨겨진 비밀 [North Korea Real Talk]

(continued in Part 2)

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

Ask a Korean! News: North Korean Soccer (Part I)

First of all, congratulations to the Taeguk Warriors for making the knockout round for the first time outside of Korea.

While this World Cup has produced plenty of compelling moments -- like Landon Donovan's beautiful 91st minute goal against Algeria (USA! USA!) -- the leading Korean Peninsula-related story of the World Cup is the Chollima (the "Thousand-Mile Horses") of North Korea, who fought well against the 2-1 defeat against Brazil in the course of being eliminated.

Personally, the Korean thinks that North Korea should never have been allowed to play in the 2010 World Cup. Eve Fairbanks of Newsweek described the Korean's sentiment well:

But I have to admit that the more goals the Portuguese scored, the worse I felt. I didn't dare to wear my fiery colors of labor too obviously inside the Troyeville, but I was rooting for North Korea. Partly because of the amusement factor—rock-paper-scissors!—but mainly because, when I looked at those hapless North Korean players giving up goal after goal, I wondered how safe their friends and families would be.

...

FIFA—and South Africa—missed an opportunity by failing to ban the North Koreans. Enlightened people love to pooh-pooh cultural boycotts, but a ban would have reflected this part of the continent’s unique ethos and history. South Africa is the single country where a sports boycott did the most to heighten outside awareness of the evils of a regime—and to foment internal restlessness for change.

Bring Back the Sports Boycott [Newsweek]

The Korean cannot help Ms. Fairbanks get the boycott she (and he) wanted. But he can help taking a guess at what North Korean soccer players might go through, thanks to Mr. Joo Seong-Ha of Nambuk Story. Below is a series by Mr. Joo providing analysis on North Korean soccer's history and the current state. Because the series is in three parts, the Korean will also give the translation in three parts.

North Korean Soccer Analysis: Part I - Defeat Makes a Sea of Tears

June 18, 2008, King Fahd Stadium, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

As soon as the game against Saudi Arabia ended -- the last game in the Asia preliminaries for 2010 World Cup -- the North Korean players shed tears of joy as they embraced one another. They had just advanced to the World Cup Finals for the first time in 44 years. This was also the first time in history when South and North Korea advanced together.

 North Koreans players cheer at King Fahd Stadium after qualifying for the World Cup.

The players received a massive welcome parade in Pyongyang. The regime also rewarded them with awards at the highest level. Sixteen received the name of "People's Athlete," and three received the name "Contributing Athlete." People's Athlete is the highest honor for an athlete in North Korea. North Korea usually reserves the People's Athlete honors for athletes who won in the Olympics or a world championship, and the Contributing Athlete honors for those who won an Asia-wide competition. The unprecedented number of those who received the People's Athlete honors at the same time reflects how much North Korea values advancing into the World Cup.

The families of the People's Athlete apparently moved to the best Athlete's Apartments in Pyongyang. In particular, the families who used to live in rural areas won a Pyongyang citizenship, which is extremely difficult to obtain, thanks to their sons. This also shows the soccer's popularity in North Korea, and the emphasis that the regime puts on the sport.

Then why did North Korea fail to distinguish itself in the international stage for over 40 years? To understand this, it is necessary to explain the glory days of North Korea soccer -- the legend of quarterfinals in the England World Cup of 1966, 44 years ago.

June 30, 1966. When 66 members of Team North Korea and staff landed in London, many locals came to see them. For Europeans of that era, Asian soccer players were a curiosity. They were astonished by the fact that the average height of Team North Korea was 165 cm [TK: 165 cm = 5' 5"].

The culture shock was the same for the North Koreans. The players who went to the airport restroom were surprised when a "woman" came out of what was clearly marked as a men's room. Only after the interpreter arrived did they learn that in England, men could grow long hair as well.

It was a clear day when Team North Korea arrived -- an unusual sight in London infamous for bad weather. The local newspapers reported, "The players of the Land of the Morning Calm brought sunshine."

The group stage for North Korea was at Middlesbrough, in northeastern England. Upon arriving Middlesbrough, Team North Korea rejected the hotels assigned by the hosts four times, electing instead to stay outside the city at St. George Hotel, which was still under construction. This was done to save foreign currency.

Team North Korea's every move grabbed local paper's attention. An article reported that Team North Korea consumed more than one kilogram of chili pepper a day; a hotel chef was quoted, "If Englishmen ate chili like this, they would explode." Team North Korea appeared to be a team of mystery for Middlesbroughers.

No one expected North Korea to advance to the quarterfinals, because the same group had the contemporary powerhouses -- Soviet Union, Chile and Italy. The strongest one among them was Soviet Union, led by the legendary goalkeeper Yashin. As expected, Soviet Union defeated North Korea and Italy, advancing as the top team of the group. Later, Soviet Union would lose to West Germany in the semifinal in an upset, as West Germany beat Soviet Union for the first time since World War II. Led by its soccer hero Franz Beckenbauer, West Germany prevailed 2-1 after two Soviet players were red-carded.

Soviet Union beat North Korea 3-0. The scoreline implies a complete defeat, but in fact North Korean defenders did an impressive job defending the Soviet attacks despite overwhelming height disadvantage. The Times of London reported, "Only the final goal was the first and the last time when Soviet Union completely penetrated North Korean defense."

Middlesbroughers were surprised by Team North Korea. In the next game against Chile, more fans visited the stadium to cheer for North Korea. Chile had a strong team, finishing third in the 1962 World Cup. The final score was 1-1, but with an advantage to North Korea who outshot Chile 16 to 9.

The game against Italy was the last game in the group stage. Although North Korea was missing starters due to injuries from the Soviet Union and Chile games, it defeated Italy 1-0 thanks to Park Du-Ik's goal. Team Italy had to face a shower of rotten eggs upon their return home.

North Korea-Italy game in the England World Cup of 1966.

North Korea's "ladder header" beating the Italian defense.

Kim Bong-Hwan, Park Seung-Jin, Park Du-Ik, Han Bong-Jon 

and Lim Seung-Hui are forming the ladder, beating out Giacinto Facchetti.

For its first World Cup, North Korea advanced to the quarterfinals as the second place of its group. (At the time, World Cup finals had 16 countries.) Three thousands fans from Middlesbrough, fascinated by Team North Korea's game, traveled with the North Korean team to Liverpool, where the quarterfinals were to be held.

In the group stage, Portugal -- North Korea's quarterfinals opponent -- beat Brazil, the champion of the 1962 World Cup, by the score of 3-1. North Korea at first was leading by 3-0, but eventually lost by the score of 5-3. Eusebio, the best striker of the era, scored four goals.

Because of the time difference, North Korean people listened to this game live via radio on 1 a.m. Lee Sang-Byeok, a North Korean broadcasting legend who passed away in 1997, announced the play-by-play. Lee's voice was full of energy when North Korea was ahead by three. But as the team gave up goal after goal, his voice began losing strength. "Ah, Eusebio again" -- hearing this four times, the name Eusebio was deeply engraved in North Koreans' memory. After the North Korean team allowed the fourth goal, Lee began crying. In the crack of dawn, the entire North Korea turned into a sea of tears. As Italy still cannot forget Park Du-Ik, North Korea still cannot forget Eusebio.

Regardless, North Korea left a strong impression in its first-ever World Cup. What was the method of their success? People generally remember the Netherlands as the origin of "Total Soccer". But nearly a decade earlier, North Korea already employed a strategy that was essentially "everyone defends, everyone attacks." They overcame the physical disadvantage by simply running like hell.

Stanley Raus, then-president of FIFA, had asked "What kind of team is North Korea?" before the England World Cup. Upon watching the North Korea - Chile game, Raus pointed out the team captain Shin Yeong-Gyu and praised him as a world-class player. After the World Cup, Raus is reported to have said, "The world's best team would have Eusebio to attack, Shin to defend, and Yashin as the goalkeeper."

The players who returned to North Korea received the best treatment while staying at a hot springs resort in Hamgyeongbuk-do Ju-Eul for several months. But this was the time the watershed event for Kim Jong-Il's consolidation of power -- the purging of Gapsan line.

Gapsan line is the group of communists who were active around Hamgyeongnam-do during the Japanese colonial era. Kim Il-Sung, in a secret Labor Party Central Committee Meeting held on March of 1968, decided to purge the Gapsan line, which hindered the establishment of his unitary rule.

(Continued in Part II)

[북한축구해부1] -패배는 북한을 눈물바다로도 만든다 [Nambuk Story]

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

Korea-Japan Relation Saga, Part II: Pre-Modern Times

(See Part I here.)

Here is one thing that Americans tend not to understand about the world: most countries in the world have a very long history, and the modern citizens of those countries identify with their history 100 percent. For example, as much as Americans learn about the heroics of George Washington, relatively few people can fully identify with and remember his victories and defeats. Our hearts don’t sink when we hear about the travails of Bunker Hill, and we (on average) don’t get too pumped at the image of Washington crossing the Delaware.

It’s different for the rest of the world, and the rest of the world certainly includes Korea. Here is an example: the oldest sons of the Park family each have a set of roughly 30 books that describe their lineage, called jok-bo (the “family chart”). Jok-bo lists every single male member of the Park clan and their wives, tracing from the very first Park who was born in 69 B.C. With the knowledge that their family line literally stretches over several millennia, ancient history in Korea is never “ancient history” in a way Americans use the word. No matter how long ago an event may have happened, the event never loses relevance in the collective consciousness of Koreans.

(Incidentally, this is probably why so many popular Korean dramas are set in ancient times. One of the most popular dramas in Korea now is Ju-Mong, which is about half-mythical, half-historical figure believed to have lived around 30 B.C. Somehow, the Korean thinks that a drama about the Founding Fathers won’t do as well in America.)

So what happened in the ancient history between Korea and Japan? Naturally, given that it is a long history, there were good times and the bad. The important thing is that, because the modern relation between Korea and Japan was so egregiously bad, Koreans tend to learn in school the points of the history that make themselves feel superior and villainize Japanese.

First, about the “making Koreans feel superior” part. Koreans tend to stress that Korea has always been culturally superior to Japan, and to some degree it is true. Since the beginning of time until around 18th century, China was the cultural center of East Asia, and Korea was closer to China than Japan. Therefore, Korea was undoubtedly superior to Japan in such arts as understanding ancient Chinese texts, calligraphy, china-making, etc. that were fashionable in China. Around 5th century, Baekje, one of the three kingdoms that occupied the Korean Peninsula, played a large role in transmitting Chinese characters, pottery, Buddhism, and so on. (Baekje was eventually defeated by Shilla, another one of the three kingdoms, and some Korean scholars argue that the current Japanese monarchy is in fact the lineage of Baekje kings in exile.)

Even past the ancient time, Korea sent masters of those arts to Japan to teach the locals as late as until the 17th century. Lost in this discussion is that Japan was quietly becoming the leading economic power of East Asia, since Japan was more receptive toward accepting goods and ideas from Europe. In fact, the relation between Korea and Japan are similar to the relation between France and Britain as the Industrial Revolution was going on. Britain was certainly getting wealthier, but it still looked to France for haute couture.

As to “villianizing Japanese”, there is no better place to turn than the Japanese invasion of 1592, known in Korea as Im-jin Wae-ran (“The Japanese War in the year of Imjin”). Wikipedia has done an excellent job describing the war, so the Korean will leave the detailed account to them. Here, the Korean will only describe why this war, among many wars that Koreans suffered, particularly stays with Koreans.

First, the war was the most recent large-scale conflict, and in fact probably the largest-scale war that Korea has ever fought, until Korean War. Although Korea has been invaded many times over, the 1592 invasion was the most recent occasion on which Korea truly stood at the brink of a complete occupation by a foreign country. Second, it is particularly difficult to accept that it was Japan, to which Korea has been culturally superior for thousands of years, that almost overran the entire country. Japan in fact kidnapped many skilled Korean artisans, reflecting the fact that they were in fact culturally inferior.

Third, the Korean victory involved some incredible heroism; the most notable one is Admiral Yi Sunsin, who has never lost a naval battle, although on the land the Korean army was being completely overrun. In his most famous battle at Myongryang Straits, he took on the Japanese fleet of 133 battleships with the last remaining 13 battleships of the Korean navy, only to emerge victorious by destroying 120 Japanese ships. Since Admiral Yi’s campaign was so incredible, his portrait is on Korean money (on 100 won coin), his statue stands in front of the largest road in Korea, and numerous novels, movies and TV series about him have been made. In this light, Koreans can never forget that Japan is the enemy. It’s just like Nazi Germany, actually – as long as Schindler’s List and Indiana Jones are popular, it will never be forgotten that Germans were Nazis and bad guys.

Speaking of World War II (hey, look at that segway!), it must be noted that Koreans don’t normally hold a grudge for over 400 years. However, they can certainly hold a grudge for about 60 years, especially if the depravity of the acts that caused the grudge is simply beyond imagination. It is fair to say that all the ancient history discussed in this part would have been "ancient history" if the events in the early 20th century did not happen between Korea and Japan. But it is undeniable that Japan perpetrated some horrible acts to Koreans in the early 20th century, which makes Koreans continue to ruminate upon the war that happened 400 years ago.

p.s. Commenter Ginny got the right answer for the last part’s question. There has been a dispute over the name of the sea on the east of Korea and on the west of Japan; Koreans want the name “East Sea”, while Japanese want the name “Sea of Japan”. Read the Wikipedia article here.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@hotmail.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)

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50 Most Influential K-pop Artists: 9. Shin Hae-cheol

[Series Index]

9. Shin Hae-cheol [신해철]

Also known as:  Shin Hae-chul; Crom

Years of Activity: 1989-present 

Discography:  

As vocal/keyboard of Muhan'gwedo [무한궤도]
When Our Lives Come to End [우리의 삶이 끝나갈 때] (1989)

As a solo artist
Shin Hae-cheol [신해철 1집] (1990)
Myself (1991)
Crom's Techno Works (1998)
Monocrom (1999)
The Songs for the One (2007)
Reboot Myself Part 1 (2014)

As vocal/keyboard of N.Ex.T
Home (1992)
The Return of N.Ex.T Part 1: The Being (1994)
The Return of N.Ex.T Part 2 (1996)
Lazenca: a Space Rock Opera (1997)
The Return of N.Ex. T Part III (2004)
Re:Game (2006)
666 Trilogy Part 1 (2008)

As a member of NoDance
Golden Hits (1996)

As a member of Wittgenstein
Theatre Wittgenstein (2000)

Representative Song:  To You [그대에게] from When Our Lives Come to End

그대에게
To You

숨가쁘게 살아가는 순간 속에도
Even in the hectic living moments
우린 서로 이렇게 아쉬워하는 걸
We still want each other more
아직 내게 남아있는 많은 날들을
The many days that I still have left
그대와 둘이서 나누고 싶어요
I wish to share them with you

내가 사랑한 그 모든 것을 다 잃는다 해도
Even if I lose everything I have loved
그대를 포기할 수 없어요
I cannot let you go
이 세상 어느 곳에서도
No matter where in the world
나는 그대 숨결을 느낄 수 있어요
I can feel your breath
내 삶이 끝나는 날까지
Until the day my life ends
나는 언제나 그대 곁에 있겠어요
I will always be by your side

Translation notes:  "숨가쁘게 살아가는 순간" is weirdly difficult.

In 15 words or less:  The most significant Korean rock musician of the 1990s.

Maybe he should should be ranked higher because...  Both in terms of music and in terms of social participation, how many K-pop artists tried more different things than Shin did?

Maybe he should be ranked lower because...  How much direct influence did Shin have? How much in the current K-pop scene can be definitively traced back to Shin Hae-cheol, like the way in which one can definitively trace Korean hip hop back to Drunken Tiger?

Why is this artist important?

As we climb higher into the rarefied heights of Korean pop music history, a concise statement of an artist's importance is approaching ever closer to impossible. One could easily write a book about Shin Hae-cheol's career; unfortunately, we can only spare a few paragraphs here.

From the beginning, Shin Hae-cheol's musical career portended a daring, experimental musical vision. Shin debuted with his band Muhan'gwedo ("Infinite Track") on the Campus Song Festival, the scene-defining audition show at the time. The crackdown from Korea's dictatorship (which ended only a year before Shin Hae-cheol's debut) has neutered K-pop, making the saccharine and brain-dead soft rock (locally referred to as "ballads") the mainstream genre. But Muhan'gwedo would have none of it. Reversing the conventional pop progression that gradually built up to a climax, To You opens with a dramatic, synthesizer-induced flair and rushes full speed toward the finish line.

Shin Hae-cheol then debuted as a solo artist, engaging in a brief (and embarrassing-in-hindsight) stint of idol pop at the insistence of his record company. Then Shin finally found his musical homeland by forming N.Ex.T. (pronounced "next",) the most significant Korean rock band of the 1990s. Looking at the current K-pop scene in which idol pop has overrun the market, it is difficult to believe that a rock band like N.Ex.T. used to top the K-pop charts. But it is true. Led by Shin Hae-cheol, N.Ex.T stood firm on the foundation of progressive rock yet struck in all directions: heavy metal, thrash rock, electronica and Korean traditional music. Shin also put project albums as an individual (taking on a separate stage name of "Crom",) trying ever more daring sound and demanding the audience to simply get used to it.

But Shin Hae-cheol's musical achievement is only half of his story, as Shin is arguably one of the most socially active pop musician in K-pop history. Perhaps betraying his elite education (Shin attended Sogang University, one of Korea's top five colleges,) Shin maintained a sharp tongue that relentlessly criticized the Korean society's irrationality and hypocrisy as a proper rocker should. Shin Hae-cheol led the charge in the movement to repeal the Korean law that prohibited two people with the same last name from getting married. Shin was also the leader of the now-infamous concert in 2002, in which Psy (of the Gangnam Style fame) performed an anti-American rap number, to express his anger at the death of two young Korean girls who were run over and killed by an USFK armored car.

The best pop artists do not simply influence the artists who come after them; they change the society around them. By that measure, Shin Hae-cheol is about as influential as any in K-pop history.

Interesting trivia:  Shin Hae-cheol is often mistaken as being related to the legendary Shin Jung-hyeon [신중현], as the name of Shin Jung-hyeon's oldest son is Shin Dae-cheol, leader of the influential heavy metal band Sinawi. Shin Hae-cheol, however, bears no relation to Shin Jung-hyeon. Shin Hae-cheol is, however, a blood relative to a different K-pop legend: Shin is the second cousin of Seo Taiji. Reportedly, the two are close, often seen together fishing or skiing.

Further Listening:  A.D.D.a. from Reboot Myself Part 1, song recorded entirely as a one-man a capella.

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

Korean Funeral Tradition

Dear Korean,

I just found out that my boss's mother has died in Korea. I've heard that it's customary to give money to the person who has lost a loved one, but I've known my boss for 2 years and it just seems insensitive to me if all I did was give him some money. Why do Koreans do that? Is there something else that I can do that is more personal?

Little White Girl

Dear Little White Girl,

It may seem insensitive, but Koreans are practical folks. Sad fact of life, or the end thereof, is that funerals cost money. The nice thing to do would be to help out with the costs. Of course, nothing stops people from doing things more personal, like writing cards or helping the funeral preparation. But as far as Korean folks are concerned, money in a white envelope that says 謹弔 is enough. (The Chinese characters roughly mean “I am sorry for your loss.”)

A side effect of the custom of giving money (the money itself is called bujo) is that the family of the deceased should only give the official notice of the funeral (called bugo) to those close to the deceased and the family. Because those who received the notice is expected to attend the funeral and give money, it is bad manners to give the notice to mere acquaintances.

Some more about what Korean funerals look like. Korean funerals traditionally had a very long and elaborate procedure, but modern Korean funerals are simplified, and often adjusted for religious beliefs, especially among Christians.

Korean funerals generally last three days. When a person dies, first the body is set in a straight position and covered in a white sheet. Then it is put behind a partition. In front of the partition, a small table is set up with a photo of the deceased and incenses. Then the person’s death is announced. Official notice of the funeral is sent out, and a sign is hung on the front door of the house.

First son of the deceased assumes the role of sangju, basically the master of ceremonies. Traditionally the sangju would wear clothes and hat made out of hemp, but nowadays they simply wear a black suit and the hemp hat. The relatives of the dead are also supposed to wear the hemp clothes, but that part is now generally omitted. Both sangju and the relatives are supposed to wear a black ribbon either on the chest or on an arm, but now only sangju wears it. (Picture came from a Korean funeral house, which advertises that it rents the traditional garb.)

On the second day, sangju arranges for cleaning of the body, which is usually done at a funeral home. Koreans don’t embalm the dead. The body is cleaned and dressed – there is a traditional garb for the dead, but suits are commonplace in modern Korea.

After the body is dressed, it is put in a casket. The casket is again set behind a partition or a black curtain, and a table with the photo of the deceased, candles, and incense is set up. A black ribbon is put on the photo at this time. Sangju sits next to the table on a coarse mat – the mat is coarse because sangju must atone for the sin of allowing his parent to die.

Then is the time for visitors. Visitors wear black suits as American mourners would. Mourners first light a stick of incense at the table, bow at the table, then sangju and the guest bow at each other. Traditionally sangju, as a sinner, is supposed to remain quiet for the entire proceeding, but now they are allowed to say brief thanking words to the guests. As they are leaving, visitors leave the envelop with money in a designated box.

On the morning of the third day, the casket leaves the house. Before it leaves, a short ceremony is held in the honor of the dead – if you were trying to find one ceremony called “funeral” in a Korean death ritual, this would be it. The personal history of the deceased is told, and people eulogize and offer incense.

Traditionally, sangju and his relatives carried the casket all the way to the burying ground, but now Koreans use a hearse. The casket is taken to a pre-arranged burial ground, which is near other family members' burial sites. (See picture.) Typically, an extended family owns a small mountain and sets up burial sites for the entire family, past, present and future. The Korean himself already knows where he will be buried when he dies. Believe it or not, the thought is somewhat comforting.

After the casket is lowered, sangju throws dirt on the casket three times. Then the grave is fully filled, and a little mound is built on top of the grave. The mound is then covered in grass. On the right bottom side of the mound, a small stone with the name of the dead is buried so that the grave can be identified even though the mound is eroded away. The tombstone is set up in front of the grave, and brief ceremony is held once again.

But technically, the official funeral is not over after 3 days. Sangju keeps wearing the black ribbon for 100 days; traditionally everyone who had to wear to hemp garb had to keep them on for 100 days, but that does not happen anymore. After 100 days, a memorial ceremony for the dead is held, and the funeral is finally over.

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

Can Non-Asian Foreigner Succeed in the K-pop Scene?

Dear Korean,

How ready do you think Korea is for a foreigner in the K-pop scene? My definition of a foreigner in Korean market would be someone who isn't Korean and does not look visibly Asian.

Maria J.

The Korean would point out the vaguely racist quality of this question first. "Foreigner," from the perspective of Koreans, has its own definition: anyone who is not Korean. The Korean has no idea why Maria J. had to twist that word and narrow its coverage to someone who "does not look visibly Asian." But be that as it may...

This type of question has been coming in fairly frequently, apparently because a new girl group called The Gloss has a white French girl named Olivia as a member. So is Korea ready for a non-Asian foreigner in its music scene?

Try this for a size:  the number one band of K-pop in 2012 has three members, all of whom young men. Two of this band's members are Korean, but one is not. One of them is a white man from America, named Brad Moore. Mr. Moore has been quite visible in all of the band's activities (including music videos and show programs,) and his whiteness or non-Koreanness has never been a subject of discussion in Korean people's appreciation of the band.

The band's name? Busker Busker.

The Korean is not joking when Busker Busker was the number one K-pop band of 2012. They deserve the moniker based on any serious metric. Busker Busker sold the most number of albums in 2012 in Korea, and their songs were the most downloaded. (They sold significantly more songs online than PSY in 2012 Korea, even with PSY's Gangnam Style.) The band also placed six different songs in the top 10 of Gaon Chart (the most authoritative chart for K-pop) through 2012, and five songs in the top 10 of Billboard's K-pop chart. Busker Busker also took home three Korean Music Awards for 2013, including Best Pop Album and Best Pop Song. In the cafes of Seoul last year, it was practically impossible to avoid Busker Busker's songs, like 벚꽃 엔딩 ["Cherry Blossom Ending", the video above] or 여수 밤바다 ["Yeosu Night Sea"]. And this wildly successful band had a highly visible white member, who is the drummer for the band.

Does this mean that the next non-Asian foreigner will be inevitably successful, or be able to completely avoid Korea's racism? Of course not. But Busker Busker's success is still a significant data point. The number one band of K-pop in 2012 had a member who was a non-Asian foreigner, and Korean pop music scene hardly made a fuss about it. That should have answered the question before it even made its way to the Korean's inbox.

It is fair to wonder if non-Asian foreigners can succeed in the K-pop scene. But it is strange to see that, in discussing this topic, no one among the supposed devotees of Korean pop music brings up the fact that K-pop's number one band has a white member, and it has been that way for a whole year. Maybe they would have noticed if they stopped distracting themselves with shitty music.

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

Ask a Korean! News: Why "Yu-Na Kim"?

Korean figure skating sensation 김연아 is known as "Yu-Na Kim" to English-speaking countries, although the proper Romanization of her name should be "Yeon-A Kim". The Korean had previously heard that Kim deliberately chose the wrong Romanization for the ease of pronunciation for anglophones, but he wanted a confirmation. While searching the Internet for the confirmation, the Korean ran into an interesting article on Chosun Ilbo, written about a week ago. Translation is below.

[Op-Ed] Why Call "Kim Yeon-A" as "Yuna Kim"?

I turned on the TV at my hotel in Vancouver, and I heard the announcer say:

"Yu-Na Kim is well known in Canada as well. Yu-na has been training in Toronto. Right now the screen in the rink shows 'Kim Yu-Na,' but the reason why we call her 'Yu-Na Kim' is..."

It was right before the figure skating short program. CTV, Canadian broadcasting company that was exclusively showing the Winter Olympics, was introducing Kim Yeon-A as a likely candidate for the gold medal. The program was showing the stock photo of Kim Yeon-A as a child wearing colorful Korean traditional clothes. The announcer continued:

"In Korea, Yu-Na Kim is called 'Kim Yeon-A.' The family name comes first. But the reason why we call her 'Yu-Na Kim' is not because we changed it into what we are used to, but because she introduced herself as 'Yu-Na Kim' when she first came to Canada."

As the program went on, the announcer repeated this explanation three times, that calling Kim Yeon-A as Yu-Na Kim was not at all meant to ignore another country's customs and apply the Canadian standard. That day CTV only showed this introduction but did not broadcast the game in which Kim participated; instead, it showed Canada-Germany hockey game that showed at the same time. [TK Note: The reporter apparently did not know that the figure skating actually showed after the hockey game.] While it was a little disappointing, it was natural given that hockey is Canada's favorite sport.

Although I could not see Kim's performance live, the small explanation from the announcer was the most unforgettable thing in my one week stay in Vancouver. It was about how to be respectful and considerate to those who are different from us, how to live together in a mixed manner. I brought this up at a dinner with local Korean Canadians, and a Korean Canadian who worked at a school district office added:

"One time, there was a fight between two Korean students at an elementary school in Vancouver. The parent went to the student who fought with her son and told him, 'You shouldn't fight like that, because Koreans have to stick together.' The school heard of this, and called the parent. 'Why did you call him a Korean student? There are no Korean students, Chinese students, Canadian students at our schools. They are all just students.' When I read this report, I thought the ideas of 'one people' and 'patriotism' that we are used to may be seen as 'exclusionary' and 'totalitarian' to others."

Of course, there were cars in Vancouver draped in the Red Maple Leaf Flag during the Winter Olympics. There were people who were chanting "Canada, Canada" while wearing a hat and a cape made with a Canadian flag. But the majority of Vancouverites seemed to find these scenes -- in which "the people stuck together" -- unfamiliar, although they are nothing more than cute little gatherings compared to Korea where the heart of Seoul would be totally filled.

Vancouver is a multiethnic, multicultural city. Other than Canadians, there are Chinese, Indians, Iranians, Filipinos, Vietnamese live mixed into the city. There are also about 70,000 Koreans, including study abroad students. But this city has rarely seen discrimination based on skin color and language emerging as a problem. There is a separate court for human rights, and a lawsuit is filed immediately if such an insult has been felt. Regardless of the result of the suit, the fact that one was sued is enough to cause embarrassment.

For us who have lived while holding "one people" as a point of pride, such "bouquet society" would likely be impossible. Regardless, we have no choice but to live mixed in with people who are different from us. There are more than a million foreigners in Korea. Korean-Chinese build the apartments in which we will live, young Filipino men run the machines in Ansan industrial complex and Sri Lankans ride the boats on the East Sea. Above all, the Southeastern Asian women who do not even know our language are giving birth to our children in rural areas. Those children probably will not know why their face is different from their friends' at first.

How are we receiving these people who have entered our society? In treating these people as "different," do we not have a sense of superiority hiding in our minds? Past the Vancouver Koreatown, there was a cheap restaurant on the roadside that had a sign saying "$5.99 Lunch Special." The owners were a Korean-Chinese couple who previously worked in Korea. "My co-workers used to look down on me because I was a Korean-Chinese, and my wife was being shunned by other employees at the restaurant in which she worked. You could say the discrimination we experienced in Korea turned into our benefit, because it made us decide to come here."

The world is relative. We, while behaving like this, become upset at small discrimination experienced by our family who immigrated, and surprised when Korean study-abroad students are attacked in Russia.

[최보식 칼럼] '김연아'를 '유나킴'으로 부르는 것은 (Chosun Ilbo)

 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.)

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