Читать книгу The Korean Mind - Boye Lafayette De Mente - Страница 11
ОглавлениеAboji 아보지 Ah-boh-jee
The “Father” Culture
When asked to list the most important word in the Korean language, most older Koreans are likely to respond with aboji (ah-boh-jee), the common term for “father.” A formal and honorific term is abonim (ah-boh-neem). In fact, Korea’s traditional culture might be described as a father culture because of the central role that fathers played in the social structure and in day-to-day living for more than five centuries.
The reason for the development of a father-based social system in Korea is bound up in the Neo-Confucianism adopted in 1392 by the newly established Choson (or Yi) dynasty as the official government ideology. From around 1200 the preceding Koryo dynasty had become dominated by an elite class of officials and Buddhist priests who became increasingly corrupt and inefficient. Korean scholars of that era blamed the situation on the royal court’s continuing obsession with supporting Buddhism at the expense of the welfare of the country.
These scholars began to advocate political reform based on a more detailed and stronger version of Confucianism, known as Neo-Confucianism, or “New Confucianism,” that had been developing in China for several generations. This new form of the ancient sage’s teachings emphasized filial piety and ancestor worship as the best possible foundation for the family and society as a whole. In 1386 the newly established Ming dynasty of China invaded Korea in an attempt to reassert hegemony over the peninsula. This precipitated the fall of the Koryo dynasty in Korea and the formation of a new dynasty in 1392 by a young charismatic Korean general named Song Gye Yi.
General Yi and those who succeeded him purged all Buddhist influence from the government and adopted Neo-Confucianism as the paramount ideology of the new regime, making it the law of the land socially as well as politically. Under this much more detailed and stricter form of Confucianism, Korean family members were precisely ranked by sex and age, with aboji or “fathers” having absolute authority over all other members. By law and by custom fathers were to be obeyed without question in all things.
There was a special relationship between husbands and wives, but first sons ranked second in the family hierarchy because they automatically inherited the mantle of the father’s power, along with most of his property, and were responsible for performing the all-important rituals pertaining to ancestor worship. In this social and political context Korean fathers reigned as masters of their households in every traditional sense of the word. Love and affection played no formal role in this family system because attitudes and behavior based on such emotions would have been disruptive and were therefore taboo.
General Yi’s successors (he took the name Taejo when he assumed the throne as king) continued his policy of promoting Neo-Confucianism as the state and social ideology, and by the middle of the next century they had won out over those continuing to favor Buddhism.
Over the following several generations Neo-Confucianism was turned into a ritualistic cult that controlled almost every aspect of Korean behavior, particularly the etiquette of interpersonal relationships and the role of the father. Under this Confucian concept of government and society, the king was regarded as the symbolic father of the people, who were expected to obey him as children obey their fathers. By extension, people were also expected to obey all government authorities because they were official representatives of the father-king.
A generally unspoken corollary of the king-as-father concept was that people were not expected to respect or obey an unethical king and were justified in rebelling against him. But that was something that normally occurred only after generations of abuse, during which the strength and will of the ruling faction gradually degenerated and the government could no longer stifle the dissent. The Confucian-oriented dynasty founded by General Yi was to last for more than half a millennium and fundamentally influence the attitudes and behavior of all Koreans.
All activity in Korean families was based on the dominant role prescribed for the male sex in general and on aboji and sons in particular. Fathers were the foundation of the family system, and sons were the pillars of each household. Until around the 1960s, Korean parents “babied” their young children, especially sons, longer than most Western parents. Mothers nursed their children longer and would often carry them on their backs until they were three or four years old.
Fathers generally had close, warm relationships with both their male and female children until they were three or four years old, tolerating behavior that would sometimes shock Westerners. But as soon as the process of preparing the children for adulthood began, the father’s relationship with sons changed dramatically. Fathers became very strict and very formal, resulting in the relationship between fathers and sons gradually becoming more distant, ultimately reaching the point that interaction between them was virtually limited to formal occasions.
The whole thrust of the fathers’ attitude and behavior was to condition their sons to obey them, to be dependent on them, to pay them a highly formalized style of respect in both language and behavior, and to carry on the Confucian traditions of the family, including the chauvinist treatment of females.
One of the more irrational aspects of this system was that it generally created an unbridgeable emotional gap between fathers and sons. It is recorded voluminously that the system resulted in a great many sons hating their fathers, and there are equally numerous references in social literature to the relief that sons felt when their fathers died, freeing them at last. From the outside, it often seems that most of the effort of Korean fathers while they were alive was to become chosang (chohsahng), or “ancestors,” whose descendants would remember and honor them.
Despite the strict Confucian image of the traditional Korean family it was rare that fathers exercised absolute dictatorial power over their wives and children. No matter how restricted wives were in their public behavior, within the walls of their homes they could and often did influence their husbands and sons.
It is also amply recorded that sons did not always obey their fathers and that among the ways they resisted paternal control was by physically avoiding their fathers—staying out of their sight. Another way was to listen to their fathers’ orders, not object to them, then do as they pleased and apologize later—an approach that is common in the behavior of Confucian-oriented people.
Anthropologist Roger L. Janelli notes in Making Capitalism: The Social and Cultural Construction of a South Korean Conglomerate that young Korean men often used “avoidance, deception, and reinterpretation” to thwart the wishes and commands of their elders.
There have, of course, been dramatic changes in Korean society and the role of fathers since the introduction of democratic principles in the mid-1900s and the economic transformation of the country. Among other things, many contemporary Korean fathers in urban areas work such long hours and are away from home so much that they play very little role in the upbringing of their children. Some, especially those who choose to play golf and network on Saturdays, see their younger children only on Sundays and holidays. In more affluent families many sons and daughters from provincial villages, towns, and cities spend their college years in Seoul on their own.
Sons who migrate to Seoul after graduating from provincial schools, as well as those who attend university in Seoul and remain in the capital after graduation, generally thereafter see their parents only a few times a year, further loosening the Confucian ties and altering traditional behavioral patterns. Even with these changes, however, fatherhood in Korea brings with it a special status and special responsibilities to families that incorporate many of the best facets of Confucianism—respect for seniors and the elderly, a powerful compulsion to achieve the highest possible education, close-knit families, mutual responsibility for the welfare of the family and relatives, and a deep commitment to social order.
Achom 앛옴 Ah-choam
Massaging Male Egos
People in Korea, including foreigners, who have some special skill but no specific title, particularly if it involves intellectual efforts, are frequently addressed as sonsaeng (sohn-sang), which is the Korean equivalent of “teacher” but has a somewhat higher status connotation than the English word. Sonsaeng is commonly made even more honorific by adding nim (neem) to it: sonsaeng nim. Nim is one of the Korean equivalents of “Mr.,” “Mrs.,” and “Miss.”
The use of sonsaeng outside the educational field is symptomatic of the Korean custom of linguistically elevating the rank of people to make them feel good—and often to get something out of them. But it is only a small part of the social protocol that Koreans have traditionally used to maintain friendly, positive relationships within their families, among their relatives, friends, and co-workers.
Demands put on Koreans by their etiquette resulted in the use of achom (ahchoam), “flattery” or “compliments,” becoming an integral part of the culture to the point that it took on a life of its own. Achom was a normal and required part of interpersonal relationships. Failure to use it at the appropriate times and in the appropriate manner was a serious transgression.
Newly arrived foreigners who are subjected to the effusive use of achom by their Korean contacts tend to be disarmed by the experience, all too often lower their standards and expectations, and become much more susceptible to manipulation by their Korean hosts. While newcomers need not become cynical about this traditional kind of behavior, they do need to be aware of its role in Korean society and not read more into it than is actually meant.
Another related word that can cause problems for the unwary is chansa (chahnsah), which means “compliment” or “compliments.” Korean men are constantly complimenting each other and their male associates and friends, and Korean women regularly compliment each other. But it was traditionally rare if not unthinkable for Korean men to compliment their wives, daughters, or other females on their appearance or their accomplishments. And it was certainly not the custom for women to compliment men.
This old cultural tradition is changing among the younger generations, but older men still tend to believe that it is improper to compliment women in the presence of others and especially for foreign men to compliment Korean women in the presence of Korean men. At the same time, there is a significant exception to this taboo. Korean men are especially pleased when foreign men compliment them on the beauty and desirability of Korean women. In fact, they often have an exaggerated opinion of both the virtues and beauty of Korean women because in the past the women were in such demand by upper-class Koreans as well as the imperial court of China and invaders as concubines and slaves.
Another general exception to the taboo about complimenting women on their appearance is when men are out at night drinking and enjoying themselves with kisaeng (kee-sang), Korea’s geisha, or hostesses in nightclubs and cabarets. In this setting, virtually anything goes.
Foreign males in Korea are especially well advised to refrain from making comments about Korean women, whether flattering or derogatory, to Korean men with whom they do not have a long and deep relationship.
Adul 아둘 Ah-duhl
The “Son” Culture
During Korea’s last—and longest—dynasty (which began in 1592 and did not officially end until 1910), the structure and ethics of society came to revolve around ancestor worship. It also became a matter of law that the primary rituals of ancestor worship had to be performed by the oldest male in each family, making it essential that each family have at least one adul (ah-duhl) or “son” to carry out these vital ceremonies.
The rituals of ancestor worship and the importance of having sons became the central theme in the lives of all husbands and wives, resulting in the appearance of attitudes and practices that were to have a profound effect on the culture, with women being held responsible for producing male children—it not being known at that time that it is the sperm that determines the sex of offspring.
In addition to virtually compelling men to take secondary wives when their primary wives failed to have sons, this cultlike custom resulted in females in general being treated as instruments of utility. Among other things, the process of selecting wives for sons took on a pseudoscientific air, with mothers judging the potential capacity for would-be brides to bear sons on the basis of a long list of physical attributes.
Eventually these attributes were codified into thirteen “physical requirements” that prospective mothers-in-law and other marriage go-betweens used to measure the potential for young girls to bear sons:
1 Eyebrows that were straight (a masculine characteristic) and slanted downward, along with flat, smooth foreheads
2 Large, wide buttocks and correspondingly large, wide stomachs
3 A voice that was even toned and a well-developed chest that indicated good breathing capacity
4 Smooth, silky skin that was translucent, “like water”
5 Hands that were shapely and tapered (instead of square and stubby)
6 An angular face that had the profile of a goose or flea
7 Rounded shoulders and a thick back that denoted physical balance and strength
8 Well-developed breasts, with dark, firm nipples
9 A nose with a high ridge and slanted eyes
10 A stomach muscle that was thick and well developed, and a deep-seated navel
11 Wide eyes with “long, slender” corners that were dry
12 Skin that was shiny and fragrant
13 Rosy palms.
These qualifications took precedence over beauty and other feminine features typically associated with women. In contrast, there were twenty-nine physical attributes that were believed to indicate that a woman was unlikely to bear sons. These features included a fragile body, a small squeaky voice, small breasts with pale nipples, a flattened nose bridge, ears turned inside out, a small mouth with a broad face, yellow or red hair, thin eyebrows, thin lips that were pale, a small shallow navel, protruding lips, and unruly coarse hair.
In addition to attempting to follow these physical qualifications in selecting brides, parents provided their sons and daughters with written instructions on how to perform sexual intercourse so as to enhance the possibility of conceiving sons instead of daughters. These guidelines were based on the belief that the uterus had two openings, one that resulted in the conception of a male fetus and one that produced a female child. It was believed that if the male sperm entered the left opening a son would be conceived; if it entered the opening on the right side, a female child would be conceived. This resulted in wives lying on their left side and remaining very still after intercourse in the hope that the male sperm would enter the left opening.
It was also believed that intercourse on the first, third, and fifth days after the menstrual period was most likely to produce male children, while intercourse on the second, fourth, and sixth days would result in female children. In their obsessive desire to have sons, most couples avoided having intercourse on these latter days. There was a variety of other beliefs and rules pertaining to conceiving sons, including the best time of the day or night and the best positions for intercourse, all of which were depicted graphically on colorful charts provided to newlyweds by their parents.
Special prayers and a number of ceremonial rituals were performed by mothers-in-law, brides, and their husbands in an effort to ensure the conception of sons. One of these practices was to place a mixture of blue salts, musk powder, and ground-up mugwort in the sonless wife’s navel and set it afire. Records show that this cauterization process was sometimes carried out as many as two hundred times by husbands anxious to have sons—and that the custom was still widely practiced until the mid-1900s. Also until modern times, women could not serve as midwives unless they themselves had given birth to several sons, and the more sons a woman had the more highly she was esteemed as a midwife.
Families celebrated the birth of sons with special fanfare. One of the customs was to attach red peppers, symbolic of penises, to ropes and leave them hanging outside their homes for several days for all the neighbors to see. It was common for adults to ask small boys to show them their “pepper” (penis) as public proof of their maleness. In the case of girls, pieces of charcoal were tied to the ropes.
Most of the superstitions and practices involving efforts to have male children have gone by the wayside in modern-day Korea, but sons are still particularly important because males continue to play a dominant role in Korean society.
Aeyok 애욕 Aye-yohk
Eroticism in Korean Life
Prior to the ascendancy of Neo-Confucianism in Korean society in the early 1400s, historical records indicate that Koreans in general enjoyed a relatively robust erotic life, not only in keeping with their belief that large families were vital to the existence of the family and family clan but also because there were no religious, social, or political sanctions against extramarital sex as a pleasurable activity—at least for men.
Furthermore, Korean males had adopted many of the traditional erotic pastimes of China soon after large-scale contact between China and Korea began in 108 B.C. These early Koreans did not, however, let the Chinese male fetish with small feet persuade them to begin binding the feet of young girls, as happened in China. Historical records show that prior to the massive introduction of Confucianism into Korea from around A.D. 600, upper-class Korean women as well as men had considerable freedom of choice in establishing intimate liaisons with lovers and engaging in aeyok (aye-yohk), or “eroticism.” But for women this freedom dwindled in direct proportion to the growing strength of Confucianism.
With the founding of the Choson dynasty in 1392, and its adoption of Neo-Confucianism as the ideology of Korean society, women in all classes became totally subject to the will of men. Sexual activity outside conjugal relations undertaken by husbands and wives for procreation became the exclusive preserve of men, who were allowed to have concubines (second wives) and patronize the famous kisaeng (kee-sang), or “entertainment girls” (if they could afford them). It was also common for upper-class men to make use of maids and other female servants in their households—another custom widely practiced in China.
Outside of professional female entertainers and those who caught the eye of well-to-do men, the women of Korea were forced to repress their sexual desires, a system that resulted in emotionally and psychically induced illnesses becoming endemic among them. With rare exceptions (see Kisaeng) only virgins were acceptable as legal primary wives.
From the first generations of the Choson dynasty in 1392 until the beginning of the twentieth century, Korean women in urban areas lived as virtual prisoners in their homes. They could leave their homes and go shopping or visiting only at night during a special sodung (soh-duung), or “curfew,” period when men were required to remain indoors. This system did, however, provide an opportunity for braver women (almost always the wives of well-to-do officials) to establish sexual liaisons with men, usually young Buddhist monks whom they ostensibly visited for spiritual solace. Among the freest women in Korea during the long centuries of the Choson era were spinsters, widows, and women who had been cast out by their husbands for not bearing sons or for breaking one of the “wives’” commandments (see Yoja) and had taken up prostitution to earn a living.
Korean women have long been known—and prized by invaders—for their beauty and other attributes, but it was not until the introduction of democratic principles into Korean society following the end of World War II in 1945 that they began to have a choice in their sexual behavior. By the 1960s it was common to hear from international businessmen and travelers that the sensual attributes of Korean women were one of the best-kept secrets of Asia.
There is still a significant degree of public puritanism in Korea, but as in most countries that have different sexual standards for men and women, eroticism in all of its usual forms exists behind the public facade.
Amhuk Ki 암훅기 Ahm-huuk Kee
The Dark Period
In the 1870s, Japan began to take actions that would cast Korea into an amhuk ki (ahm-huuk kee), or “dark period,” the likes of which it had never before experienced. Within less than twenty years after its own self-imposed isolation from the West had been ended by American gunboat diplomacy, Japan began using the same approach against the weak and squabbling Choson court in Seoul.
The Japanese government, with its warrior mentality and a rapidly modernized army and navy at its disposal, began a systematic campaign to replace the traditional suzerainty of China over Korea. In 1876 the Choson court was forced to sign a treaty with Japan, opening the country up for trade and other ties that quickly became financial, military, and political.
In 1894 a rebellion by Korean dissidents against the weak Choson court prompted both China and Japan to rush troops to Seoul supposedly to protect the king. The Japanese got there first, seized the royal palace, killed the queen (Queen Min), deposed the king, and appointed a puppet regent in his place. This led to all-out war between China and Japan, with the Japanese victorious on land as well as at sea. Under the terms of the peace treaty, signed in 1895 and approved by most of the leading Western nations, Korea became a protectorate of Japan. Japan immediately began strengthening its presence in Korea, both overtly and covertly treating the country like a colony.
Nine years later Japan went to war again, this time against Russia, successfully eliminating it as a rival in East Asia. With a free hand in Korea, the Japanese continued their program of converting Korea into a Japanese appendage. Responding to this threat, Korean patriots formed underground resistance groups and guerrilla bands to combat the Japanese. Finally in 1910 Japan gave up all pretense of “protecting” Korea, annexed the country, and began an all-out political, military, and cultural campaign to condition Koreans to accept their fate.
Japanese administrators in Korea repressed all political activity and cultural life. Spies were dispatched into every corner of the country to report on the activities of intellectuals, religious leaders, and former politicians, beginning an era that Koreans were later to call Amhuk Ki (Ahm-huuk Kee), or “The Dark Period.”
Japan dispatched a large number of its notorious kempeitai (kem-pay-e-tie), or “thought police,” to Korea, charging them with ferreting out and punishing anyone who spoke ill of the Japanese or Japan. They also created a large corps of koto keisatsu (koh-toh kay-e-saht-sue), literally “high police”—approximately half of whom were Koreans who had agreed to work for the Japanese. These police were charged with the responsibility of overseeing political activity, education, health, morality, tax collection, public welfare—in fact every facet of life in Korea—and they had virtually unlimited powers to search, arrest, pass sentences, imprison, or execute anyone accused of breaking their laws.
One of the extremes to which the Japanese went to enforce their laws and impress on Koreans their power and the importance of obeying them without question was a provision that required government officials and teachers to wear swords as a means of intimidating people. Koreans who refused to act as spies and informers themselves became subject to arrest and punishment as enemies of the Japanese regime. The slightest suspicions were grounds for arrest, torture, and imprisonment or death. Punishment was typically collective, with hundreds punished for the crime or rebellious conduct of a single person or a small group.
The psychic damage caused by this kind of control by force and fear was magnified beyond all reason because so many Koreans themselves were intimidated into participating in the brutalities inflicted on the population, making it impossible for people to trust anyone except their own families.
Despite these draconian measures, the Japanese annexation and continued occupation of Korea did not go smoothly. More and more Korean patriots took to the hills as guerrillas and began a campaign of attacking Japanese troops and their facilities. Urban residents staged street demonstrations, resulting in thousands of them being killed. In retaliation Japan began a campaign to totally eradicate Korean culture. Schools were required to teach only in Japanese. All Koreans were ordered to take Japanese names, speak only Japanese when dealing with the Japanese, and behave in the Japanese manner. Leading artists and craftsmen were killed or imprisoned to prevent them from passing Korean culture on to the next generation. Hundreds of ancient palaces and temples were destroyed.
Dozens of thousands of Korean men were inducted into the Japanese army. Thousands of Korean women were forced to serve as prostitutes for the Japanese military. Other thousands of men and women were shipped to Japan as slave laborers to work in factories and mines. Rather than submit to Japanese rule and enslavement, thousands of Koreans fled their homeland, some making their way to Manchuria and China and others to the United States. Many of the refugees who fled to nearby China and Manchuria formed clandestine guerrilla groups that carried out commando raids against Japanese facilities.
Other exiles formed assassination teams that targeted Japanese government officials and military officers. One member of a group in China that organized an Aeguk Tan (Aye-guuk Tahn), or “Patriotic Society,” succeeded in killing several high-ranking Japanese military officers with a bomb, greatly encouraging all Koreans as well as the beleaguered Chinese.
The great Amhuk Ki ended on August 15, 1945, when Japan was defeated by the United States and its allies and Korea quickly reclaimed its sovereignty. But one kind of dark period ended only to have another one start just five years later. The United States agreed that Russian troops could occupy the northern half of Korea and disarm the Japanese troops there, while the U.S. forces would do the same thing in the southern half of the country. Both sides were to withdraw their forces from Korea as soon as the Japanese troops had been disarmed and shipped home. The United States fulfilled its commitment, but the Russians refused to withdraw from the northern half of Korea and quickly set up a Communist government under the leadership of Il Sung Kim, a dedicated Korean Communist. The Soviets then shipped most of the Japanese troops in North Korea to Siberia to be used as slave laborers rather than sending them home. (By the time these ex-Japanese soldiers who survived enslavement in Siberia were finally allowed to return to Japan in the 1950s, they had been so thoroughly brainwashed in communism that they immediately began staging strikes and sit-ins against the Japanese government and the American military forces in Japan, becoming an international embarrassment to Japan.)
Il Sung Kim, with massive Soviet aid, immediately began building up a large army of North Koreans and fortifying the line along the thirty-eighth parallel that had been selected as the boundary between the Soviet and American zones. But all was not calm in South Korea either. As soon as the U.S. withdrew its forces from the southern half of the peninsula, political factions began fighting over which group was going to run the government.
Finally, in September 1947, the United Nations called for elections in both the northern and southern portions of the country. The Soviet Union refused to allow North Korea to participate in the process, so elections were held only in the South. On August 15, 1948, three years to the day after the end of World War II, the UN presided over the establishment of the Republic of Korea, with veteran politician-patriot Syngman Rhee as its first president. Three weeks later the Soviet-backed Il Sung Kim proclaimed the establishment of the Democratic Republic of Korea, with himself as president.
On June 25, 1950, North Korea launched a full-scale invasion of South Korea, capturing Seoul within a matter of hours and pushing the ill-prepared South Korean forces into a tiny pocket at the end of the peninsula. The United States, with UN approval and help from fifteen other UN member nations, quickly rallied a counterattack under the command of General Douglas MacArthur, who had commanded American forces in the successful war against Japan and was then commander of the Allied forces occupying Japan.
The Allied counterattack succeeded in pushing the North Koreans out of South Korea, but when the Allied forces continued to pursue the North Koreans beyond the thirty-eighth parallel, China entered the war on the side of North Korea. Allied forces suffered enormous losses, and once again Seoul fell to combined Chinese and North Korean forces. General MacArthur proposed to attack China’s staging areas north of the Yalu River in Chinese territory and was fired by U.S. president Harry Truman because Truman and his advisers were afraid that would result in all-out war with China.
With Allied forces bowing to political pressure to stop at the thirty-eighth parallel, the fighting finally ended in a stalemate on July 27, 1953. Peace talks were begun in a special complex built hastily in a three-mile-wide demilitarized zone straddling the boundary between North and South Korea.
The war devastated both North and South Korea. In addition to some 1.5 million people killed on both sides, hundreds of thousands of families were torn apart by the division of the peninsula into two parts separated by a barrier that was one of the most heavily guarded strips of land in the world.
The second Amhuk Ki of the twentieth century was over for South Korea, but by that time communism had an even firmer grip on the northern portion of the peninsula and was imposing a different kind of darkness on the hapless people there.
Anae 안애 Ah-negh
Wives: The Inside People
Few societies have limited, or twisted, the lives of women as much as Korea’s Choson dynasty, which began in 1392 and formally ended in 1910. Under the influence of a Confucian ideology that restricted the role of urban women to childbearing and housework and farm women to childbearing, housework, and farmwork, the Choson court created a society in which the two sexes were segregated into different worlds.
Women were not allowed to meet, talk to, or associate in any way with any males outside their own families. When passing men—on the rare occasions that they did—they were required to avert their eyes. But the tradition of segregating males and females goes back much further in Korean history. The word for wife, anae (ah-negh), basically means “inside person” and reflects the image of wives that had existed in Korea since ancient times.
From the beginning of Korea’s recorded history, which more or less dates from the peninsula’s falling under the hegemony of China in 108 B.C., until modern times lower-class women were treated very much like property. To survive in this environment, women had to develop extraordinary resilience and willpower, characteristics that were regularly put to the test by internal strife as well as invasions from the outside.
In all social classes marriages were arranged to benefit the families. Wives could not initiate divorce or prevent husbands from divorcing them. Young women were regularly sold into slavery. Groups of young women, selected especially for their beauty, were also regularly sent as tribute to the harems of the imperial capital of China.
Korean women began to fare somewhat better in the last decades of the nineteenth century, by which time the Choson court had become virtually impotent and the country was being threatened by Japan as well as Western powers. But the few changes that did occur then mostly benefited a small number of unmarried girls from noble and well-to-do merchant families who were allowed to venture outside their walled homes, attend school, and participate in limited social activities. These first breaks with Confucian-oriented society generally did not extend to wives.
Korean wives were to remain virtually locked in the Middle Ages until the 1960s, by which time Korea had embarked on a remarkable economic as well as social transformation that was to sever many of its Confucian roots and greatly loosen the remainder of its ties with the past. This time the revolution was to benefit married as well as single women. By the 1980s Korean wives had caught up with their Japanese counterparts and in many respects had begun turning the tables on their work-harried husbands.
Like their Japanese neighbors, present-day Korean housewives are in day-today charge of their childrens’ education and generally act as the family bankers. Among the blue-and white-collar working classes, husbands generally turn their salaries over to their wives, keeping only a weekly or monthly allowance. Wives play equal or leading roles in deciding on major expenditures. Wives also initiate and manage most noncompany social events in which their families participate. About the only area that is still regarded as a strictly male obligation is the leading role in rituals honoring ancestors, but this too is gradually weakening.
One of the most important cultural changes in the lives of Korean anae was the almost mandatory rule that they give birth to sons or be divorced. Sons are still highly valued in Korean society, but without the force of law requiring strict obedience to the rites of ancestor worship and enforcing patrimony, male children are no longer absolutely necessary for Korean wives to maintain their roles and status.
Korean wives are no longer denied the right to enjoy aejong (aye-johng), or “love and affection.” Aein (aye-een), “lover” or “sweetheart,” is no longer a taboo word in the vocabulary of the young, and like their counterparts in other countries, more and more unmarried girls, formally addressed as Agassi (ah-gahs-she), which is the equivalent of “Miss,” take it for granted that it is morally permissible for them to have aein before they marry, and they are willing to confront society at large on the issue.
At the same time, kyurhon (kure-hoan), or “marriage,” is no longer viewed as a trap that condemns them to a life of servitude and loneliness from which there is virtually no escape. The possibility of ihon (ee-hohn), or “divorce,” is only one part of the changing scene for Korean wives.
A generic term for “housewife” or “mistress of the house” is chubu (chuu-buu). The male equivalent is chuin (chuu-een), which is variously translated as “host,” “employer,” or “master of the house.” Always known for their survival powers and behind-the-scenes influence, the wives and single women of today’s Korea are among the strongest-willed, most independent and self-directed women in the world—and woe to the man who crosses them!
Anshim 안힘 Ahn-sheem
Peace of Mind
Another key element in traditional Korean culture that was to have a fundamental influence on the character of the people was an abhorrence of disorder, of chaos of any kind, physical or mental, something that no doubt derived from their indoctrination in Buddhism and Confucianism. Buddhism taught nonviolence in the strictest form, including respecting and preserving all life forms. Confucianism imbued the people with an equally strong sense of order and form, to the point that the way they did things generally took precedence over feelings and other personal considerations.
However, these two influences neither protected Koreans from their more aggressive and rapacious neighbors nor guaranteed domestic peace and tranquillity at all times. But they did establish a philosophical and spiritual foundation in Korea for a state of mind referred to as anshim (ahn-sheem), which literally means “peaceful heart,” and made this the ideal mental and spiritual state for which all were expected to strive.
Korean history, particularly since the end of the nineteenth century, may seem at variance with the anshim element in Korean culture, but most of the violence that has been endemic in Korea since that time has been the result of invasions by both foreign forces and foreign ideologies, against which Koreans had no suitable defense.
Contemporary culture in Korea still holds anshim up as the ideal, and much of the Korean language, etiquette, and ethics is designed to create and sustain an environment of anshim in personal relations, in business, and in any other public activity. The fact that these efforts fail almost as often as they succeed is generally not for lack of trying but because the whole society is undergoing revolutionary changes.
Much of the ongoing Korean behavior that outsiders perceive as irrational and disruptive in some way is a manifestation of their efforts to maintain anshim despite new circumstances over which they have little or no control. The employee who keeps quiet about a mistake, the employee who does not complain about an injustice, and the businessperson who misrepresents a situation are all trying to avoid upsetting their own anshim as well as that of others.
Rather than express themselves directly in many situations that are routine to Westerners, Koreans keep quiet and expect other people to pick up on their desires or intentions via subliminal signals that are referred to as nunchi (nuunchee), a kind of cultural intuition. It is fair to say that in Korea one cannot maintain an acceptable level of anshim in a work group (or in a family) without being skilled in nunchi—something that may put newly arrived and uninitiated foreigners at a very serious disadvantage.
One way for foreign businesspeople newly assigned to Korea to avoid some of the more dire consequences of disrupting the anshim of their Korean coworkers and failing to pick up on their silent messages through nunchi is to confess up front that although they are familiar with the terms and understand they refer to behavior that is crucial to maintaining good morale and productivity, they do not yet have the cultural skills to react to them or use them effectively. This kind of confession generally results in the Koreans concerned helping the foreign novice bridge the cultural gap. In any event, such a confession lays the foundation for the newcomer to ask questions when in doubt about anything.
Just letting a Korean friend or business associate know that you will do everything possible to protect his or her anshim can significantly enhance the relationship for the better.
Anun Saram 안운살암 Ah-nuun Sah-rahm
Someone You Know
Describing a person as anun saram (ah-nuun sah-rahm) or “someone I know” does not sound like a significant statement in its Western context. In the course of a busy lifetime, Westerners have traditionally made dozens to hundreds of acquaintances with whom they would engage in social activities or conduct business if an occasion arose.
Such was not the case in pre-modern Korea, however. There the collective and exclusive nature of each core family and its extended family made it impossible for individuals to develop relationships and obligations freely with more than half a dozen or so “outside” people during their lifetimes.
Generally, individuals were not free to make private or public commitments to nonfamily members on their own because one way or another such commitments impacted the whole family or even the whole clan. This situation resulted in Koreans generally viewing nonfamily members and people with whom they had no personal connection as strangers to be wary of and avoid, or simply to ignore as if they did not exist.
The Korean custom of avoiding casual outside relationships was driven in part by the fact that additional relationships would make it necessary to behave in a carefully calculated way toward the outsider to prevent either side from losing face and to avoid the possibility of creating enemies. Outside relationships could also create obligations that conflicted with existing ones. New relationships that were not specifically sought for some special advantage were therefore considered both socially burdensome and potentially dangerous. In effect, nonfamily members were culturally conditioned to repel each other.
Until recent times, ordinary Koreans had absolutely no say in government policy or practices, a circumstance that worked against their developing any concept of public responsibility. This situation was another key factor in Koreans’ generally limiting their contacts and relationships to family, kin, and a few close friends who usually dated back to their childhood and school days.
In present-day Korea the tendency for people to limit their involvements to anun saram, or people with whom they have established personal relationships as a result of school or work, is still a significant factor in both private and public affairs. The exceptions to this are generally age and experience related. The younger the people, the more likely they are to be more casual in developing acquaintances. The more individual Koreans have been exposed to Western influence, through education or work experience, the less likely they are to limit their contacts to anun saram and the more likely they are to feel comfortable about establishing new relationships for personal or business reasons.
Until about the beginning of the 1980s Koreans were notorious for their low level of civic and public interest and discourtesy to other Koreans with whom they had no personal connections. All of this changed dramatically over the next decade. With sponsorship from the national as well as city governments, Koreans became intensely interested in civic and public affairs, including the environment and all aspects of the quality of life, resulting in strict regulations to enforce standards that are among the highest in the world.
The custom of ignoring or being discourteous to strangers also began to change dramatically. Koreans normally put non-Asian foreigners in an “honored guest” category and generally treat them with special courtesy. Often their assistance to lost and otherwise helpless foreigners can go so far beyond normal expectations that it becomes embarrassing.
One conspicuous occasion when Koreans typically treat foreign residents or visitors the same way as other Koreans, however, is when they are all competing for taxis during rush hour and on rainy days.
Foreign businesspeople who visit and spend time in Korea have a significant advantage in establishing relationships with Koreans since in this respect Koreans regard foreigners as “culture free.” Thus natives do not have to be concerned about upsetting social harmony or incurring unwanted obligations by establishing relations with foreigners.
Arirang 알일앙 Ah-ree-rahng
The Korean Soul Song
Few people have visited Korea for any length of time without hearing the song that vies with the country’s national anthem in popularity and, in fact, serves more or less as the unofficial theme song of Koreans. The title of the song is “Arirang” (Ahree-rahng), which is usually translated by Korean-English dictionaries as “folk song” because it apparently is a coined word that has no literal meaning. According to bicultural business executive H.J. Chang, “it expresses the inner soul of Koreans.”
In 1926, in spite of the presence of Japanese occupation forces, Korean actor-director Un Gyu Na somehow managed to produce a movie entitled Arirang that was a powerful protest against Japan’s colonial oppression of Korea. The title of the movie was taken from a famous folk song by that name that is said to have originated in Chongson gun (Chongson County) in Kangwon Province.
According to local folklore, a young girl from the village of Yoryang fell in love with a young man who lived in the nearby village of Auraji, which was separated from Yoryang by a river. On the pretense of picking camellia flowers that grew on the other side of the river, the girl would cross the river on the daily ferry and secretly meet her sweetheart. A fall flood caused ferry service to be suspended for several days. The girl composed a beautiful, sad song to express her longing. The song eventually came to be known as “Chongson Arirang.”
The movie was a huge hit with Korean audiences and has since become a classic, but it was the song, “Arirang,” which reminded Koreans of their suffering under Japanese rule and their longing for freedom, that was to have the most lasting influence. In 1995, Korean writer Jung Rae Cho rekindled interest in the popular folk song and its connection with the colonial period by publishing a twelve-volume novel called Arirang, which recounts in painful detail the crimes of the Japanese colonial administrators as well as those of Koreans who collaborated with the Japanese. The book sold more than one million copies during the first year following its publication. Cho said the book was built on the anger and hatred that the Japanese colonial rulers left in their wake and that his purpose for writing it was to correct historical distortions and help relieve the feelings of disgrace suffered by so many Koreans.
Foreigners who would like to ensure themselves of a permanent place of honor among older Koreans need only to learn how to sing “Arirang” with all of the passion and soul that is so dear to Korean hearts. Unfortunately, since the 1990s the role of this poignant song has waned significantly among Korea’s younger generations. They are more attracted to popular foreign songs.
