The Korean Mind. Boye Lafayette De Mente
A formal and honorific term is abonim (ah-boh-neem). In fact, Korea’s traditional culture might be described as a father culture because of the central role that fathers played in the social structure and in day-to-day living for more than five centuries.
The reason for the development of a father-based social system in Korea is bound up in the Neo-Confucianism adopted in 1392 by the newly established Choson (or Yi) dynasty as the official government ideology. From around 1200 the preceding Koryo dynasty had become dominated by an elite class of officials and Buddhist priests who became increasingly corrupt and inefficient. Korean scholars of that era blamed the situation on the royal court’s continuing obsession with supporting Buddhism at the expense of the welfare of the country.
These scholars began to advocate political reform based on a more detailed and stronger version of Confucianism, known as Neo-Confucianism, or “New Confucianism,” that had been developing in China for several generations. This new form of the ancient sage’s teachings emphasized filial piety and ancestor worship as the best possible foundation for the family and society as a whole. In 1386 the newly established Ming dynasty of China invaded Korea in an attempt to reassert hegemony over the peninsula. This precipitated the fall of the Koryo dynasty in Korea and the formation of a new dynasty in 1392 by a young charismatic Korean general named Song Gye Yi.
General Yi and those who succeeded him purged all Buddhist influence from the government and adopted Neo-Confucianism as the paramount ideology of the new regime, making it the law of the land socially as well as politically. Under this much more detailed and stricter form of Confucianism, Korean family members were precisely ranked by sex and age, with aboji or “fathers” having absolute authority over all other members. By law and by custom fathers were to be obeyed without question in all things.
There was a special relationship between husbands and wives, but first sons ranked second in the family hierarchy because they automatically inherited the mantle of the father’s power, along with most of his property, and were responsible for performing the all-important rituals pertaining to ancestor worship. In this social and political context Korean fathers reigned as masters of their households in every traditional sense of the word. Love and affection played no formal role in this family system because attitudes and behavior based on such emotions would have been disruptive and were therefore taboo.
General Yi’s successors (he took the name Taejo when he assumed the throne as king) continued his policy of promoting Neo-Confucianism as the state and social ideology, and by the middle of the next century they had won out over those continuing to favor Buddhism.
Over the following several generations Neo-Confucianism was turned into a ritualistic cult that controlled almost every aspect of Korean behavior, particularly the etiquette of interpersonal relationships and the role of the father. Under this Confucian concept of government and society, the king was regarded as the symbolic father of the people, who were expected to obey him as children obey their fathers. By extension, people were also expected to obey all government authorities because they were official representatives of the father-king.
A generally unspoken corollary of the king-as-father concept was that people were not expected to respect or obey an unethical king and were justified in rebelling against him. But that was something that normally occurred only after generations of abuse, during which the strength and will of the ruling faction gradually degenerated and the government could no longer stifle the dissent. The Confucian-oriented dynasty founded by General Yi was to last for more than half a millennium and fundamentally influence the attitudes and behavior of all Koreans.
All activity in Korean families was based on the dominant role prescribed for the male sex in general and on aboji and sons in particular. Fathers were the foundation of the family system, and sons were the pillars of each household. Until around the 1960s, Korean parents “babied” their young children, especially sons, longer than most Western parents. Mothers nursed their children longer and would often carry them on their backs until they were three or four years old.
Fathers generally had close, warm relationships with both their male and female children until they were three or four years old, tolerating behavior that would sometimes shock Westerners. But as soon as the process of preparing the children for adulthood began, the father’s relationship with sons changed dramatically. Fathers became very strict and very formal, resulting in the relationship between fathers and sons gradually becoming more distant, ultimately reaching the point that interaction between them was virtually limited to formal occasions.
The whole thrust of the fathers’ attitude and behavior was to condition their sons to obey them, to be dependent on them, to pay them a highly formalized style of respect in both language and behavior, and to carry on the Confucian traditions of the family, including the chauvinist treatment of females.
One of the more irrational aspects of this system was that it generally created an unbridgeable emotional gap between fathers and sons. It is recorded voluminously that the system resulted in a great many sons hating their fathers, and there are equally numerous references in social literature to the relief that sons felt when their fathers died, freeing them at last. From the outside, it often seems that most of the effort of Korean fathers while they were alive was to become chosang (chohsahng), or “ancestors,” whose descendants would remember and honor them.
Despite the strict Confucian image of the traditional Korean family it was rare that fathers exercised absolute dictatorial power over their wives and children. No matter how restricted wives were in their public behavior, within the walls of their homes they could and often did influence their husbands and sons.
It is also amply recorded that sons did not always obey their fathers and that among the ways they resisted paternal control was by physically avoiding their fathers—staying out of their sight. Another way was to listen to their fathers’ orders, not object to them, then do as they pleased and apologize later—an approach that is common in the behavior of Confucian-oriented people.
Anthropologist Roger L. Janelli notes in Making Capitalism: The Social and Cultural Construction of a South Korean Conglomerate that young Korean men often used “avoidance, deception, and reinterpretation” to thwart the wishes and commands of their elders.
There have, of course, been dramatic changes in Korean society and the role of fathers since the introduction of democratic principles in the mid-1900s and the economic transformation of the country. Among other things, many contemporary Korean fathers in urban areas work such long hours and are away from home so much that they play very little role in the upbringing of their children. Some, especially those who choose to play golf and network on Saturdays, see their younger children only on Sundays and holidays. In more affluent families many sons and daughters from provincial villages, towns, and cities spend their college years in Seoul on their own.
Sons who migrate to Seoul after graduating from provincial schools, as well as those who attend university in Seoul and remain in the capital after graduation, generally thereafter see their parents only a few times a year, further loosening the Confucian ties and altering traditional behavioral patterns. Even with these changes, however, fatherhood in Korea brings with it a special status and special responsibilities to families that incorporate many of the best facets of Confucianism—respect for seniors and the elderly, a powerful compulsion to achieve the highest possible education, close-knit families, mutual responsibility for the welfare of the family and relatives, and a deep commitment to social order.
Achom 앛옴 Ah-choam
Massaging Male Egos
People in Korea, including foreigners, who have some special skill but no specific title, particularly if it involves intellectual efforts, are frequently addressed as sonsaeng (sohn-sang), which is the Korean equivalent of “teacher” but has a somewhat higher status connotation than the English word. Sonsaeng is commonly made even more honorific by adding nim (neem) to it: sonsaeng nim. Nim is one of the Korean equivalents of “Mr.,” “Mrs.,” and “Miss.”
The use of sonsaeng outside the educational field is symptomatic of the Korean custom of linguistically elevating the rank of people to make them feel good—and often to get something out of them. But it is only a small part of the social protocol