The Korean Mind. Boye Lafayette De Mente
pre-twentieth-century Korea, the volume was so minuscule and limited to such a few items that foreign trade had no impact at all on most people.
Thus the concept of chakupjachok has permeated Korean thinking since ancient times and still is a significant part of the policies and practices of the government and business in general. The larger a Korean enterprise, the more it tries to control all of the factors involved in its operation, from sourcing raw materials to selling and servicing finished goods. Korean companies also have a phobia about coming under the control of foreign firms. On a national scale the Korean government is determined to prevent the country from ever again coming under the political and economic hegemony of any foreign power.
Foreign businesspeople and diplomats dealing with Korea invariably encounter the chakupjachok syndrome at one time or another, and generally it plays some kind of role in all of their relations with Korea. However, well before the end of the 20th century the incredible practical nature and success-drive of Koreans had led them to give the carefully nuanced globalization of their economy the highest priority, with astounding results.
Chamulsong 찰물송 Chah-muhl-song
You Gotta Have Patience!
One of the sights that early foreign visitors to Korea were most impressed with, and invariably described—almost to the point that it appears to have been required of them—was that of elderly Korean men and women seated in calm repose outside their homes, in parks, or along rural walkways. These elderly people, dressed in the national male and female costumes, were generally assumed to be the embodiment of the revered grandmother, grandfather, or wise old Confucian scholar and the famed Korean trait of chamulsong (chah-muhl-song), or “patience”—all of which represented the best of Korean culture in the popular mind.
Contemporary Korean philosophers, psychologists, and other social scientists proclaim that chamulsong, or “patience,” is one of the primary national characteristics of the Korean people. They do not add, however, that this characteristic developed because the people of pre-modern Korea had no choice but to passively endure the abuses of authoritarian and backward-looking governments with as much dignity and patience as possible for century after century.
In old Korea any outward sign of impatience at the behavior of government officials and others in authority was traditionally taken as disrespectful and met with some kind of reaction that made things worse. In present-day Korea, chamulsong remains a prerequisite for survival and achievement. The government is not nearly as oppressive as it was in the past, but bureaucratic red tape, the personal nature of business transactions, limited facilities, and competition for virtually everything make patience essential if one is to avoid an emotional breakdown. Westerners in Korea generally have to undergo substantial cultural transformation before they can emotionally adjust to the slower pace of officialdom.
Probably the most conspicuous changes in the famed patience of Koreans is on the political front. Younger generations who have never known the hardships or the oppression that were the lot of their forebears are becoming more and more impatient in demanding political and economic rights that have long been taken for granted in the United States and other countries. Like other Asian societies that are attempting to accommodate principles of democracy and individualism within the context of their enduring Confucian cultures, present-day Koreans who live in larger cities and have college educations essentially have two personalities—a traditional Korean personality and what might be called a Western-oriented personality.
Generally speaking, these “two-sided” Koreans are able to assume whatever personality best fits the situations they are in. Problems arise, however, when the situations are not clear-cut and when they try to switch back and forth between the two modes or attempt to fuse them in an effort to please everyone.
Koreans who work with other Koreans in companies managed by expatriate foreign managers are especially challenged because they must be sensitive to a wide range of contradictory emotional needs and expectations from both their foreign managers and Korean co-workers. On an individual basis, Koreans can be as impatient as anyone else. But in any normal situation the larger the number of people involved the more likely the group is to assume a chamulsong mode and behave in the traditional fashion.
Generally speaking, as the famed English poet Rudyard Kipling did, trying to hurry things up in an Eastern culture like Korea usually makes them worse.
Another common term for patience—and endurance—is innae (een-nigh).
Changpi 창비 Chahng-pee
The Shame Culture
Many people are familiar with the concept of a “shame culture” as a result of Ruth Benedict’s classic book The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, published in the 1940s, in which she delved into the cultural characteristics of the Japanese. As it happens, Korea also has a “shame culture” and for the same reasons—the influence of Confucianism, which makes saving face one of the most important elements in proper, moral behavior. In fact Korea was a “shame culture” before Japan, because Confucianism became entrenched in Korea well before it arrived in Japan.
In its Confucian context shame is regarded as the root of morality, and in shame cultures morality is driven externally. People in shame cultures try to avoid causing emotional pain to others and being subjected to such pain themselves—pain that is caused by being looked down on by others, by being embarrassed, by being disgraced in the eyes of others. Shame-centered people do not try to “be good” so as to avoid committing a sin that endangers their soul; they try to behave as is required by their social status and station to avoid losing their reputation.
Historically, the greatest sources of changpi (chahng-pee), or “shame,” in Korea were failing to live up to the expectations of the father, the family, the kin, and one’s circle of friends and associates and not being treated as one’s status demanded. In the case of the latter, Koreans were honor bound to wipe out the shame by somehow, at some time, taking revenge against the person or persons who shamed them.
In contrast to both Korea and Japan, the United States and other Christianized countries have “guilt cultures.” The primary sanction of the Christian religion is guilt feelings, and the more influence Christianity has on people the more guilty they feel about what they do—or think. Because these guilt feelings are internalized, people who have “sinned” can suffer on their own and in silence to the point that they go crazy—something that is rare in changpi cultures.
While Christianity peddles guilt and Confucianism purveys shame, there is a fundamental difference in the effects of the two sanctions. Shame-centered people can get by with all kinds of “immoral” conduct and not suffer any pangs of shame as long as it doesn’t become known to others. In shame cultures it is not doing that is shameful so much as getting caught. Among the many things that people in changpi cultures can “morally” do that are considered immoral in Christianized guilt cultures is treat people as inferiors, take financial advantage of people, conceal the truth, use devious tactics, and—for men anyway—engage in premarital and extramarital sex.
It should be noted that some 20 to 25 percent of all present-day Koreans are classified as Christians, which could imply that this large number of Koreans today are more influenced by maume kengginun (mou-may keng-ghee-nuun), or “guilt feelings,” than by shame and are therefore easier for Christianized foreigners to deal with. There is some truth in this belief, but not a lot. Koreans who regard themselves as Christians but were born and raised in Korea are geneally Koreans first and Christians second—meaning that they continue to be more influenced by the traditional shame culture than by the Christian guilt culture. Their Christianity is more of an intellectual addition to their beliefs than spiritual or emotional guidelines for behavior.
In male-female relations, in family matters, and in other personal and professional matters that really count, traditional Korean beliefs and behavior generally take precedence over Christian dogma and customs. Changpi, as it applies to Korean culture, is, in fact, far more powerful as a social conscience than spiritual guilt because it is precisely detailed and is much more visible to the eye. Guilt can be disguised and denied. Shame often stands out for everyone to see.
The one transgression that Koreans