The Korean Mind. Boye Lafayette De Mente
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