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)

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

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.

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.

When Korea's E-Sports was at the Brink of Death

Dear Korean,

I heard there was a huge scandal regarding E-sports about 2-3 years ago. From what I've heard, the scale of the scandal was so big that it almost put an end to the E-Sports itself. Would you be willing to explain what exactly happened back then? How did the Koreans react to the scandal?

Avid gamer

It has been more than three years since the Korean wrote the post about the popularity of Starcraft in Korea. Incredibly, it is still one of the most frequently read posts of this blog. Consider this post to be a sequel: how illegal gambling and match-fixing nearly destroyed the world's first professional e-sports league in Korea.

First, a quick review on how Starcraft became a professional sport in Korea. Starcraft was released in 1998. For a game released at that time, Starcraft had an ambitious Internet-based multi-player gameplay. This was ambitious because, at the time, it was not clear who would be able to take advantage of this multi-player design. Remember that 15 years ago, only a small portion of the world's population had Internet, and most of those who did have Internet relied on dial-up connection through the phone lines, utterly inadequate for online gaming.

(source)

Korea, however, recognized the potential of the Internet early on, and began a massive public investment in installing a fiber-optic cable network throughout the country. The result was that, by the end of 20th century, Korea had a national broadband network that boasted the fastest Internet in the world by a wide margin. Using the unparalleled Internet infrastructure, Koreans begin playing Starcraft, the best Internet-based multi-player game available. The rest is history: Korea is the forefront of the worldwide e-sports, with televised video games and professional gamers with rock star-like status.

(The lesson: government is good, and it should be in the business of picking winners and losers. If Korean government did not take the initiative in the late 1990s to invest a fortune in installing fiber-optic cables, but waited instead for private companies to build their own, would Korea be a major player in the high-tech industry that it is today? Would Korea have created, seemingly out of thin air, professional e-sports leagues, an entire new multi-million dollar market that can only grow in importance in the age of the Internet? If you say yes, the Korean has some Ron Paul presidential memorabilia to sell to you.)

Starcraft began becoming professional around 2000. Independent Starcraft tournaments began sprouting up, and cable televisions in Korea would broadcast the matches. In fact, in many cases the cable TV stations were the ones hosting the tournaments, with a prize money funded by its sponsors in exchange for advertisement placements. Soon, a pattern emerged: Korea's Starcraft leagues and players operated somewhat like professional golf--a collection of different tournaments, with varying levels of competition, prize money, and prestige.

For the next several years, the popularity of professional Starcraft leagues would grow exponentially. Then came 2007.

(More after the jump.)

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

Just How Formidable are North Korea's Hackers?

[Index for translated Joo Seong-ha articles]

When it comes to North Korean news, the Korean has one simple rule: listen carefully to people who have actual access to the facts at the ground level in North Korea. One of the few people who do have such access is Mr. Joo Seong-ha, reporter for Dong-A Ilbo. 

Long time readers of this blog are familiar with Mr. Joo. He was born and raised in North Korea, and graduated from Kim Il-Sung University. In other words, he was on track to be an elite officer of the North Korean regime. Instead, he escaped from North Korea into China, and eventually made his way into South Korea, to work as a reporter. Because of his unique background, he is able to access the facts of North Korea like few others can. For example, in 2009 when American journalists Laura Ling and Euna Lee were captured in North Korea, Mr. Joo was able to speak directly with the North Korean border patrol who captured them.

From Mr. Joo, here is another good one. Recently, South Korea was rocked by a massive cyber attack, for which North Korea was suspected to be responsible. Mr. Joo spoke with one of the North Korean hackers to get a sense of North Korea's cyber attack capabilities. Below is the translation.

*             *            *

Conversation with North Korean Cyber Warrior

To write, or not to write.

I agonized long and hard about writing this article. It could be a violation of the National Security Act. Some may look at me askance. And do I really need to write something like this in this type of environment? But in the end, I decided to write this.

To confess--I know the two of the so-called "North Korean cyber warriors." Because of personal security issues, even the question of "know" versus "knew" is sensitive. At any rate, the person with whom I have had conversations for the last several months is not a former cyber warrior; he is currently one.

Recently, all kinds of myths about North Korean hackers are permeating South Korea: "The Mirim University in North Korea raises a thousand selected cyber agents every year"; "North Korea has 30,000 cyber soldiers"; "North Korea's hacking ability is commensurate to that of the CIA."

I asked one of the cyber warriors about Mirim University. He said: "That place is for soldiers who did not open a book for nearly a decade. The teachers for that school can't wait to transfer out to a different school." According to him, there are around 50 students who learn "a little bit" of computer skills before they graduate. In short, the idea that Mirim University is a training camp for cyber warriors is a massive exaggeration. Come to think of it, the original name for Mirim University is the University of Military Command Automation.

Then I asked which places teach computer skills. The answer was Geumseong Middle Schools 1 and 2, which are magnet schools. The schools apparently teach approximately 500 hours of Internet-related lessons for six years. But no one in the faculty of Geumseong has sophisticated hacking ability.

I asked if Geumseong Middle Schools 1 and 2 were the best; the answer was no. Those who excel from those schools advance to Kim Il-Sung University, or Kim Chaek University of Technology. But he said that the top destination for the North Koreans who learned computer skills is India. Since mid-2000s, North Korea sends around 10 computer engineers to study abroad in India; these are the best of the best. The very first team that was sent to India stayed there, for software development. Later, some of them were transferred to China.

I asked if there were several thousand North Korean cyber warriors in China. He said that there are around 10 teams that each has less five members; they somewhat know each other. But he added that they receive almost no assistance from the North Korean regime, because the "old men" (the decision makers) did not grasp the concept. I heard this a few years ago. Even though the young Kim Jong-Un's leadership began to grasp the concept, it is an unwarranted exaggeration to say that there are several thousands of North Korean hackers in China.

I did not ask about their missions, because that is the confidential information on which their lives depend. Other than that, there was nothing I could not ask, and no answer I did not receive. The cyber warriors who live outside of North Korea have not a shred of loyalty for the Labor Party. I regret that I cannot disclose the full transcript.

I used to live in Pyongyang. I know Mirim University and Geumseong Middle School. Therefore, I trust the people I spoke with about a hundred times more than the people who chatter without never having been to Pyongyang. Of course, this is not to say that we should ignore North Korea's capabilities for cyber terrorism. It only takes a few dozen truly great hackers to deal a significant amount of damage. But that is about as much as North Korea can do.

To conclude:  I know there is someone from Pyongyang who visited my personal blog on North Korea every day, because he leaves the traces of browsing around the different pages. I am sure he will see this article as well. I would love to speak with him too.

북한 사이버 전사와 나눈 대화 [Dong-A Science]

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

50 Most Influential K-pop Artists: 15. Kim Geon-mo

[Series Index]

15. Kim Geon-mo [김건모]

Also romanized as:  Kim Gunmo

Years of Activity: 1998 - present 

Discography:
Picture Painted After Parting [이별 뒤에 그린 그림] (1992)
Kim Geon-mo 2 [김건모 2] (1993)
The Wrong Encounter [잘못된 만남] (1995)
Exchange Kg. M4 (1996)
Myself (1997)
Growing (1999)
#007 Another Days... (2001)
Hestory (2003)
Kimgunmo 9 (2004)
Be Like... (2005)
Scarecrow [허수아비] (2007)
Soul Groove (2008)
Everything's Gonna Be Alright (2009)
Autobiography & Best [自敍傳 & Best] (2011)

Representative Song:  잘못된 만남 [The Wrong Encounter] from 잘못된 만남 (1995)

잘못된 만남

The Wrong Encounter

난 너를 믿었던 만큼 난 내 친구도 믿었었기에

Because I trusted my friend as much as I trusted you

난 아무런 부담없이 널 내 친구에게 소개시켜줬고

I introduced you to my friend without thinking twice about it

그런 만남이 있은후부터 우리는 자주 함께 만나며

After that encounter we simply got together a lot

즐거운 시간을 보내며 함께 어울렸던 것뿐인데

Having a good time and hanging out together

그런 만남이 어디부터 잘못됐는지 

But at what point did such encounters turn wrong?

난 알 수 없는 예감에 조금씩 빠져들고 있을 때쯤 

As I was slowly stepping into mysterious apprehension

넌 나보다 내 친구에게 관심을 더 보이며 

You were paying more attention to my friend than me and

날 조금씩 멀리하던

Slowly distancing me

그 어느날 너와 내가 심하게 다툰 그 날 이후로

Then on that day when you and I got into a big fight

너와 내 친구는 연락도 없고 날 피하는 것같아

You and my friend stopped calling and began avoiding me

그제서야 난 느낀거야 모든 것이 잘못돼 있는 걸

Then I finally realized that everything went wrong

너와 내 친구는 어느새 다정한 연인이 돼있었지.

You and my friend had already turned into lovers

있을 수 없는 일이라며 난 울었어

I cried, thinking how this could be

내 사랑과 우정을 모두 버려야 했기에

Because I had to lose both my love and friendship

또다른 내 친구는 내 어깰 두드리며 

Another friend of mine tapped on my shoulder

잊어버리라 했지만 잊지 못할것 같아

And told me to forget it all; but I don't think I can

너를 사랑했던 것만큼 내 친구도 믿었었기에

Because I trusted my friend as much as I loved you

난 자연스럽게 너와 함께 어울렸던 것뿐인데

I simply hung out naturally together with you but

어디부터 우리의 믿음이 깨지기 시작했는지

Since when did our trust begin to crack

난 알지 못한채 어색함을 느끼면서

I did not know; I kept feeling awkward

그렇게 함께 만나 온 시간이 길어지면 질수록

And the longer the time we spent hanging out like that

넌 내게서 조금씩 멀어지는 것을 느끼며 난 예감을 했었지

I felt you were slowly drifting away from me, and then I sensed it

 넌 나보다 내 친구에게 관심이 더 있었다는 걸

You were more interested in my friend than me

그 어느날 너와 내가 심하게 다툰 그 날 이후로

Then on that day when you and I got into a big fight

너와 내 친구는 연락도 없고 날 피하는 것같아

You and my friend stopped calling and began avoiding me

그제서야 난 느낀거야 모든 것이 잘못돼 있는 걸

Then I finally realized that everything went wrong

너와 내 친구는 어느새 다정한 연인이 돼있었지.

You and my friend had already turned into lovers

있을 수 없는 일이라며 난 울었어

I cried, thinking how this could be

내 사랑과 우정을 모두 버려야 했기에

Because I had to lose both my love and friendship

또다른 내 친구는 내 어깰 두드리며

Another friend of mine tapped on my shoulder

잊어버리라 했지만 잊지 못할것 같아

And told me to forget it all; but I don't think I can

In 15 words or less:  Korea's king of pop, the "National Singer".

Maybe he should be ranked higher because...   In the entire history of K-pop, his popularity is matched or exceeded by probably no more than three or four other artists.

Maybe he should be ranked lower because...  At the end of the day, what exactly did he achieve musically?

Why is this artist important?

Take any K-pop musician at his/her peak. Then imagine asking Korean people at the time how they feel about that musician. What would be the response? In most cases, a certain group of Korean people would love that artist, and other groups will not. Jo Seong-mo, for example, enjoyed a level of popularity that is matched by few others in Korean pop music history. Yet at the end of the day, his popularity was propelled mainly by women in their teens through 30s. Few in the history of K-pop transcend that level. Korean women who are older than mid-20s could care less about Girls' Generation. Even PSY, he of a billion Youtube hits, has his detractors in Korea.

For those shining few who rise above that bar and become beloved by the entire nation, Korean pop culture bestows a moniker:  국민가수, the "National Singer." Depending on whom you ask, there are only three to five "National Singers" in the history of K-pop. But no matter whom you ask, the name Kim Geon-mo will come up as the representative "National Singer". 

To be sure, one can nitpick on Kim Geon-mo until the cows come home. He never was much of a singer;   this lack of talent was painfully exposed in the first episode of the reality show I am Singer, in which Kim suffered the disgrace of becoming the first singer to be dropped from the show. He did not compose his greatest hits, and he never created music or lyrics of any depth. (The lyrics of The Wrong Encounter, Kim's greatest hit, is positively cringe-worthy in its juvenility.) In fact, the moment he began composing his own songs was the moment when his career began sliding downward. At the end of the day, he was not much more than a dancing entertainer, who scored high on likability.

Make that "scored astronomically on likability," actually. Measured strictly by popularity, Kim Geon-mo's three-year peak from 1993 to 1996 was probably greater than any three-year peak of any K-pop artist in history, save maybe two (whom we will discuss later in this series.) Kim's perceived lack of natural talent ended up becoming a plus for his likability, as the narrative of his career became that of an underdog--who was not particularly handsome nor musically talented--that nonetheless succeeded against all odds. In the mid 1990s, Kim Geon-mo ruled the K-pop world like virtually no one else did, because absolutely everyone loved him. Even Seo Taiji, who is on the short list of K-pop's Greatest of All Time, avoided releasing any album when Kim Geon-mo released an album. 

Although Kim himself did not possess any particular musical talent, his popularity itself would become his musical legacy. Because of Kim Geon-mo, various dance music genres--reggae, electro-pop, sanitized hiphop--would graduate from the state of being imported music to become Korea's own. Kim Geon-mo was the moment in which dance music would become K-pop's mainstream. 

Interesting trivia:  In college, Kim Geon-mo majored in traditional Korean music.

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