On a community website where I spend a lot of time, someone asked recently for advice on how to deal with his noisy neighbours. He doesn’t live in Korea, but he thought that the couple next door was Korean, and that when they were shouting at each other in the wee hours, they weren’t shouting in English. He reasonably took this as an indication that some knowledge of their cultural background could come in handy if he girded his loins enough to talk to them about it. I responded:

Koreans are fighters, certainly, but no more than anyone else, I don’t think, and it’s not like it’s a cherished part of Korean culture or anything. What is a part of Korean culture is to ignore people who are outside your circle of personal friends/acquaintances/family. If someone’s not in your circle, they are an unperson, so a) their feelings are not considered b) you can be unembarrassed about airing your dirty laundry, in whatever form.

So if these folks are indeed Korean, making friendly overtures so that you impinge on their humanradar (depending on how old-skool Korean they are (ie if they hew fairly closely to the usual Korea-Korean norms, it’ll work)) might just make you a person to them, in which case they’ll be too ashamed to make all that noise.

Someone else suggested in no uncertain terms that they thought my suggestions were bigoted, which completely shocked me (and pretty much everyone else). After one of those interminable long arguments about what constitutes racism and what doesn’t, it seemed like my use of the word ‘unperson’ had triggered a strong response, which wasn’t intended. I should probably have used a word a little less emotive. Live and learn. In the course of that argument, which ended up involving a good hundred people, I offered the following mini-essay about some Korean Kultural Konstructs, and I thought I’d share it here.

So this is what I said. It was off the cuff, and I was angry, so I’ll apologize upfront for inaccuracies.

Go:

[Have a look at some background material], and then I’ll try to pull some threads together into a nice package:

Some of the forces at play in molding some of the ways in which some Koreans tend to perceive both themselves (that is, their own identities) and others with whom they interact (as well as Korean Identity as a whole) are the concepts of chemyeon (face, sort of), neunchi (sensitivity to social subtext), kibun (personal mood+life force), bunuiki (group mood), cheong (loving attachment to one’s immediate circle), and han (sorrow and rage angainst injustice). All of the translations I’ve offered are weak and inaccurate. For the most part, none of these words translate well (or at least pithily) into English: we know the feelings, perhaps, but they are very difficult indeed to discuss. I believe one of the strengths of Korean, and one of the reasons Korean folks can speak of cultural norms so easily, is that they have single words to describe them.

Each of these deals with the way one interacts with the group, or the way the group impinges on one’s identity and emotions. This is no accident. Koreans are brought up (this is changing, as all things are, but not as much as much else in the country) to understand their indentity within various overlapping circles, the first, of course, being strongly-connected family. Marriages are the binding of families, not individuals (many marriages in the past were arranged: some still are), for example. Extended families are still the norm. The elderly (less so, again, than in the past) are almost never put in retirement homes or the like. Brothers and sisters share a generational name (one syllable amongst the three syllables that constitute 95% of all Korean names). The list goes on. As I said here:

Relationship words are blanket nouns denoting relationships between people that are commonly used in informal conversation between people, rather than given names – older brother, younger sister, uncle, auntie, grandmother and so on. (In the slummy, thin-walled building I used to live in in Busan, it was de rigeur on Saturday nights to hear sounds of passion and female cries of ‘Opa! Oh, opa! (older brother)’ from the playboy-next-door’s apartment.) These extend to the common practice of referring to a woman as ’so-and-so’s mother,’ rather than using her given name.

In a restaurant, on the street, wherever: one calls people (in Korean) ‘uncle’, or ‘auntie’ if they’re older, or ‘grandfather’ or ‘grandmother’, regardless of their relationship. There are a thousand variations.

This and more stands in contrast to the western tradition of identity being predicated on the individual, on him or her first, followed by context. In Korea, it’s context first. (It is amusing to me at least to note that when we say something like ‘hey buddy’ to someone we don’t know in English, it’s usually in an aggressive tone or situation.)

Another thread to this, and part of the reason this is so, is that Korea is the most Confucian country in the world. Confucian ideas are relevant here because (as I also wrote earlier)

Confucius focused on the need to maintain social order though willing or unwilling submission to the five primary relationships :

1. Ruler and subject
2. Parent and child (teacher and student)
3. Husband and wife
4. Older and younger person
5. Friend and friend

All of these relationships are explicity hierarchical, excepting, significantly perhaps, the last, although friendship of a Confucian bent is a considerably more meaningful proposition, it may be argued, than ‘buddies’ in North America might be.

Confucian beliefs permeate Korean society, for better and for worse (egregious sexism is a downside, for example). Regardless, here it is again one’s relationships that define who you are, and what you can and cannot do. Note (because it’s unfortunately necessary, it seems to say so) that these are generalizations about an entire nation, not a taxonomy of the beliefs of any given individual.

It might be said that Buddhist beliefs have some influence (honoring the god inside the other) here, and that may be the case, but Korea is about 45% Christian, and both Buddhism and Christianity are just veneers on the old animist beliefs, to an extent, anyway, so I won’t go there.

But when you put together the confucian primary relationships together with ideas like ‘cheong’ and ‘bunuiki’, and believe deep in your bones that proper, civilized behaviour means acting in accordance with these baked-in ideas, Korean people are left in a deep and difficult-to-resolve quandary: you can’t behave in accordance with these principles with everyone. It’s just not possible to treat the taxi driver and the garbageman, the kid behind the counter at the 7-11 or the guy in the next car at the stoplight as part of your primary relationship group (family, friends, coworkers, bosses, alumni).

So what happens? Well, if you’re not part of one of the groups that count, then you are more or less in my way. I’ll call you ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’, but that’s as far as it goes. Not all Koreans are rude or unpleasant to everyone not in their circles, of course. This is not what I am saying.

But manifestations of this are everywhere, and it’s only in part hierarchy. People are (to a western eye) shockingly rude to waitresses (there are no male servers, for the most part), to clerks at shops. In their cars, they seem to ignore other drivers, and pedestrians. Neighbours, especially if you haven’t met them, effectively don’t exist. Regionalism has made an internecine battlefield of Korean politics. Park Chung Hee’s graduating class made up most of the government during his military rule, and the same thing happened when Chun Du Hwan took power, with his class, in 1979. Examples of both inside-group and outside-group thinking are everywhere.

That said, Koreans can be amongst the kindest and most welcoming of people, particularly to foreigners who are so far outside the inside-group that they need to be thought in entirely new ways — in other words, as individuals. And once a foreign person becomes part of a cheong relationship — with family, friends, coworkers, whatever — you’ll find it hard to find people as loyal.

Are people outside the circle ‘unpersons’, as I suggested? Well, I think so, even if [my accuser] understood the word to mean ’sub-human’ (I did not). But it’s not a value judgement, it’s a coping mechanism. [My accuser] was overlaying his (reasonable) beliefs, based on his culture (I assume he’s not Korean), about ‘all men being equal’ to the situation, and gleaning a mistaken understanding that there was a boot on someone’s forehead if I was correct, or that I was racist for saying what I did, even though I did not intend my comment to be disapproving, merely explanatory.

So: in general (again, weasel words that are made necessary by the pointing finger of disapprobation) Koreans tend to immediately slot other Koreans into one of two buckets, and the second bucket is the large one. In that bucket is everybody who just doesn’t matter as much, and is treated in that way, because otherwise daily interactions would be untenably complicated, people whose identity, affiliations, family, status, educations and age are unknown, and who therefore can’t jump into the first bucket until some relationship is established. (This is, for example, why every book you read that talks about doing business with Koreans seems confused about why Korean businessmen insist on trying to establish some personal link, and may ask what seem like overly-personal questions. It’s not irrational or sentimental, it’s baked-in to the culture.)

I haven’t made a complete tour here (by any means), and it would take a full book to do justice to the topic, anyway, I think (one which I’ve often thought of writing), but hopefully someone found this useful or interesting.

Note that although most of what I say here is something you could read in any textbook, some of my conclusions and dotted-line drawings are my own.