The Korean Mind. Boye Lafayette De Mente
early in Korea’s history until the 1960s and 1970s, the hierarchical structure of the society, the separation of the sexes, the exclusivity of the family, community, and clan groups, and the lifestyle in general severely limited friendships outside these groups and any activity not directly related to making a living and engaging in the various religious rituals and celebrations. Recreational activities in the modern sense were virtually nonexistent for most people.
There were games that children played, some festivals featured athletic events (including rock battles), and adult men were privileged to frequent a variety of tea and wine houses, but for the most part life in Korea did not permit individuals to pursue their own personal or professional interests for any purpose.
All this was to change with the abolition of the feudalistic family system and the coming of affluence in the last half of the twentieth century. For the first time in the history of the country people were not only politically and socially free to pursue personal interests but had the financial means to do so. Large numbers of people began to indulge themselves in the kinds of ch’wimi (chee-we-me), or “hobbies,” that had long been popular in affluent Western nations.
One of the more interesting of these new developments in Korean society was the emergence on college campuses of dong ari (dohng ah-ree), which might be translated as “hobby groups” and gradually spread into the general population. The “hobbies” pursued by these early college groups came to be known as “circle activities” and encompassed such things as singing, general discussion groups, book readings, soyangjanggi (soh-yahng-jahng-ghee) or “Oriental chess” (the Koreanization of the English word chess is also used—ch’essu [cheh-ssuu]), and various volunteer activities.
In Korea today there are dong ari for virtually every recreational activity one can imagine, from poetry readings and travel groups to computer users who have formed electronic networks for personal and professional purposes. Most of the dong ari have female as well as male members, and, depending on their activities, age is no barrier. There is a nominal fee for membership in the groups.
Like the Japanese, Taiwanese, and other Asians who got their first real taste of freedom following the end of World War II and the introduction of democratic principles into their lives, Koreans take their dong ari seriously, devoting a great deal of time and money to them. They represent a degree and kind of freedom never before experienced in Korea, even among the elite yangban class and members of the royal court, and are symbolic of the extraordinary progress Korea has made since the 1960s.
In addition to their importance in the social emancipation of Koreans, the rapid growth of dong ari made a significant contribution to the emergence of Korea’s mass market by increasing the demand for recreational supplies, accessories, and equipment of all kinds, from books to hiking boots.
Foreign residents in Korea who want to expand their personal and professional networks of friends and colleagues should look into joining one or more appropriate dong ari.
Enuri 엔울이 Eh-nuu-ree
Bargaining as a Social Skill
In most old societies bargaining was a natural part of economic exchange because there were no universally recognized principles for establishing set prices for goods or labor. Everything was a matter of personal choice. Korea is one of the many societies around the world in which enuri (eh-nuu-ree), or “bargaining,” has survived as an important economic and cultural activity, especially in public markets and among smaller, family-operated businesses.
Since enuri has long been part of the regular social intercourse of Koreans they are generally good enough at it that they do not feel they are at a disadvantage when dealing with established merchants. Where sidewalk vendors are concerned, however, they are cautious but take pride in being able to hold their own.
Visitors in Korea who have not had any experience in bargaining tend to feel very uncomfortable when faced with a choice of haggling or paying an inflated price—especially when there is a language problem. The first experience that foreign travelers have with bargaining in Korea is often at one of Seoul’s two huge public markets, the famous Tongdaemun (Tohng-day-muun), “Great East Gate,” or Nandaemun (Nahn-day-muun), “Great South Gate,” or in Itaewon (E-tay-wahn), Seoul’s most famous tourist shopping and entertainment district, where hundreds of shops and sidewalk vendors compete for buyers.
Supermarket chains, department stores, and other first-line retailers in Korea have fixed prices on their products, and customers are not expected to bargain. (But I have received discounts of 10 percent in name department stores in Seoul simply by asking for them—a special service they may extend to foreign customers who buy several relatively expensive items.)
Veteran foreign bargainers in Korea advise that shoppers in places where bargaining is the accepted practice carefully scrutinize any item they are interested in, especially internationally known brand items, because it may turn out to be an unlicensed copy. Another thing to look for is any kind of flaw. In either case, it is usually best to start out with a casual offer that ranges from 60 to 70 percent of the asking price. Of course, shoppers have to be willing to walk away if vendors refuse to accept their offers. But in the larger shopping districts the same items are usually sold by several vendors, so there are a number of opportunities.
Koreans have traditionally been skilled bargainers, whether in public markets or business offices, because the nature of their class- and rank-based society made it imperative that they develop substantial verbal skills and learn how to deal with people on an emotional basis. Present-day Korean society is much less hierarchical and hidebound than it was during the country’s long pre-modern period, but enough of the traditional culture remains that the same kind of skills are still essential in both private and public matters.
Bargaining sessions involving groups are often noisy affairs at which many people may talk at the same time, often in loud voices, in a traditional process that is known as chugoni-batkoni (chuu-goh-nee baht-koh-nee), which means “give-and-take,” something at which most Koreans are masters. Another well-used old term referring to several people haggling over something is oksinkaksin (ohk-sheen-kahk-sheen), which might be translated as “pushing back and forth.”
Western business and political negotiators who have been conditioned to depend on facts and logic rather than emotion and verbal skills often find themselves seriously disadvantaged in dealing with their Korean counterparts. There is a major element of stagecraft in Korean bargaining techniques that simply floors people who are not skilled in using theatrics to achieve their goals.
Haengbok 행복 Hang-bohk
The Pursuit of Happiness
The founders of the United States of America believed that human beings have the right to be happy and that they should have the freedom to strive for happiness—something that neither religions nor social contracts anywhere in the world had formally recognized up to that time.
In Korea, as elsewhere, the concept of haengbok (hang-bohk), or “happiness,” as a birthright was totally alien—first because the lives of most people were routinely hard and often cruel and second because they had virtually no control over the quality of their lives. In this environment, haengbok was a rare and incidental thing. People came to believe that happiness was something dispensed by the gods in heaven—not something that they could or should strive for on their own. Happiness was therefore something that came to people who were favored by the gods and was more a matter of luck than a reward for hard work or righteous living.
According to Korean essayist Kyu Tae Yi, people who claimed to be or appeared to be happy in pre-modern Korea were often viewed by the majority with suspicion because they themselves were unable to experience happiness. It was not until the political freedom and economic progress of the 1960s and 1970s that ordinary Koreans for the first time in the history of the country were able to achieve a level of affluence and security that allowed them to experience haengbok over relatively long periods of time.
Surveys today indicate that Koreans in general are “fairly happy.” For the first time their more important material and sensual needs are being met and they acknowledge regularly enjoying themselves by eating and drinking with