The Korean Mind. Boye Lafayette De Mente
obsession with making sure that others treated them with an exaggerated level of formal courtesy and respect.
People became extremely sensitive to the behavior of others and to their own behavior because everything that was done or said impacted their highly honed sense of propriety, self-respect, and honor. Protecting and nurturing one’s “face” and the “face” of one’s family thus became an overriding challenge in Korean life and had a fundamental influence in the subsequent molding of the Korean language and culture in general. Chae-myun (chay-me’yuun), or “face saving,” often took precedence over rationality, practicality, and truth.
In this face-sensitive society, speaking clearly and candidly became taboo. Speech became indirect and vague. Direct criticism, especially of superiors, was prohibited, and there were serious sanctions for breaking the ban. When something disruptive happened between individuals or groups, one of the institutionalized ways of “repairing” the damage was for a mutual agreement to opton kosuro haja (ohp-tohn koh-suu-roh hah-jah), which means “pretend it never happened.”
During the long Choson dynasty (1392-1910), the practice of chae-myun contributed significantly to cultural, social, and economic stagnation because it did not permit open, free, and critical discussion of matters at hand. It was not only safer to say nothing and do nothing to change things, it was the spiritually and morally correct thing to do.
Face is still of vital importance to Koreans. People continue to be extremely circumspect in their speech and behavior. The goal is to guarantee that everyone is in a constant state of anshim (ahn-sheem), which means “peace of mind” or “at perfect ease.” The first priority is to avoid any kind of direct confrontation by using only polite terms and refraining from saying or doing anything that would upset anyone. In business situations this may include not telling the truth about something, withholding bad news, and not bringing up mistakes that have been made. Naturally this kind of behavior can be very confusing and can mislead people who are not capable of reading between the lines. Foreigners dealing with Koreans may be especially disadvantaged.
Well before the formal end of the Choson dynasty in 1910, however, public institutions and the government had lost their Confucian immunity to criticism. By the 1950s criticism and direct action designed to bring about change were not only common in Korea but also were engaged in with a special vehemence. Physical violence and bloodshed were often included in the overreaction to the centuries during which such behavior occurred only when people were oppressed beyond the limits of their endurance.
Despite evolutionary changes in Korean culture since the end of the Choson dynasty, however, Koreans continuously engage in chae-myun in all of their personal and business relationships. Foreigners in Korea must do the same. Face saving, in fact, remains Korea’s “cultural lubricant,” without which things cannot and will not run smoothly.
Chagun 차군 Chah-guun
Compassion and Mercy
Westerners tend to be both fascinated and repulsed by the contradictions in Asian attitudes and behavior. The stylized etiquette and tranquil harmony that reflects one face of the Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, and other Asians simply does not fit with their other face of rage and savage brutality. These inconsistencies in character apparently arose from centuries of emotional, intellectual, and physical programming that compelled Asians to repress their natural instincts and desires and conform to an artificial kind of behavior that created contradictory impulses.
As long as the pressure on Asians to conform to this contradictory lifestyle was strong enough and steady enough to maintain a balance of the conflicting impulses, there was peace and tranquillity. But when this pressure weakened or became more than people could endure, their suppressed rage was unleashed, and the only way open to them to express this rage was through violence.
Korea’s pre-modern history is a series of long cycles of peace and tranquillity ending in periods of great violence. The Koreans survived both forms of these cycles because they were tough, resilient, and determined and also because of a cultural element expressed in the word chagun (chah-guun), which can be translated as “compassion and mercy.”
In keeping with the humanistic side of Korea’s multiple philosophies (shamanism, Buddhism, and Confucianism), the harshness of life in Korea has traditionally been tempered by chagun most of the time. Except in rare cases of truly evil men, the officials who administered the authoritarian regimes down to modern times were generally compassionate men who, during times of peace, interpreted and enforced the laws from a humane rather than legalistic viewpoint. During periods of turmoil, however, the dark side of the Asian character inevitably came to the fore, and chagun was frequently replaced by absolute ruthlessness.
Broadly speaking, the cycle of violence and change that began in Korea in the 1870s has not yet ended. But this time there is a good chance the violence will end not because of the imposition of a new authoritarian political regime but because the national will of the people will succeed in bringing about the formation of a truly democratic government.
In the meantime, foreign residents of Korea may benefit from the chagun factor if they are aware of it and learn how to use it. On occasions when people run afoul of the law, whether the situation is minor or major, it is normal for them to get a special measure of leniency—a kind of justice that is applied to Koreans and foreigners alike—if they invoke the chagun element by apologizing and expressing regret.
There is another side to the dispensation of chagun if the situation involves a business matter in which Koreans are pitted against foreigners. In such situations it typically takes on a nationalistic flavor and can be expected to come down on the Korean side. To help prevent this from happening, or at least to mitigate the results, the foreign side is well advised to present its case with as much emotion and “humanism” as possible. Koreans are invariably more receptive to humanistic approaches than they are to hard facts and logic.
The Korean custom of giving precedence to human factors over facts and logic is usually upsetting to most Western businesspeople when they first encounter it—and may continue to upset them for months or years, depending on their own character and attitudes. Those who are perceptive enough to combine the Korean way with the Western way, using a combination of logic, humanism, and personalism, are usually the ones who succeed in Korea.
Chakupjachok 차굽자촉 Chah-kuup-jah-choke
The Self-Sufficiency Syndrome
In the early 1990s, Korean business and political leaders began talking about the importance of internationalizing or globalizing the Korean economy in keeping with the worldwide trend among leading industrial powers—something that is such an extreme departure from traditional Korean thinking that it suggests changes in the Korean mind-set that, in fact, have not occurred. Those who are expressing this viewpoint are few in number and are not speaking for the overwhelming majority of Koreans.
A number of Korean companies have become multinational to the point that they appear to have been internationalized, but that too is misleading because behind the foreign facade of Samsung, the LG Group, and other Korean conglomerates, both the heart and soul are still Korean. True and complete internationalization and globalization are so directly opposed to the traditional Korean mind-set that the whole culture would have to be transformed before either could happen—a circumstance that is, of course, common in some degree to all nationalities.
For all practical purposes Koreans were isolated from the world community until 1965, when diplomatic relations were reestablished with Japan, and although they have since made remarkable progress in catching up with the rest of the world in a material sense, they (like the Chinese and Japanese) are still generations behind most Westerners in viewing themselves as members of the world family—racially as well as culturally.
In addition to their geographic and cultural isolation until recent times, Koreans have traditionally been programmed in the concept of chakupjachok (chah-kuup-jah-choke), or “self-sufficiency.” While this cultural conditioning naturally began as a matter of survival, it was eventually institutionalized in the Korean political, economic, and social systems. Until the first decades of the twentieth century the vast majority of all Koreans were, in fact, virtually self-sufficient, raising