Aesthetic Pursuits

Another week of work brings with it another set of one-on-one interview questions, which are always my favorite part of the week. As with any other week, we downloaded a set of two questions from Elite's website (which, in this case, is significant in and of itself), one of which deals with the students' attitudes toward plastic surgery. I have to admit, I was previously unaware of Korea's "obsession" with plastic surgery, but after looking over the statistics and listening to my students this week I feel like, in my opinion, I've happened upon a significant, and perhaps even disturbing, trend on the peninsula. I am aware of three plastic surgery clinics alone in Samsandong in Ulsan, and I'm almost positive there are probably more in the city. A BBC article from 2005 cited a statistical attestation that around 50% of Korean women in their twenties have undergone some sort of plastic surgery procedure. The most common procedure is called the "double-eyelid" surgery, wherein Korean women (and men for that matter, although they are in the minority) enlarge the size of their eyes by removing "excess" flesh from their eyelids. Other popular surgeries include creating "more prominent" noses and breast augmentations (for women, specifically). Many have theorized about why Koreans, who in some circles are considered the most aesthetically pleasing of all Asian nationalities, have turned to "the knife" in recent years in increasing numbers, citing everything from the social competitiveness of young Koreans and their parents (which, being a hagwon teacher I can certainly attest to) to aspirations to look more "Western," whatever that may mean.

The latter part of that last sentence touches upon an issue that I have wanted to address here on my blog but have been hesitant to thus far. To write about these issues as a white person, and a white American male at that, is extremely difficult because my experience of race has been one of privilege in the extreme, and so my observations are, naturally, affected by my experiences and I risk the possibility of sounding racist (and sexist for that matter). However, I feel that I must say something about this because it has made me feel uncomfortable on more than one occasion. I've written before about how often I am called "handsome"* here by people I may not even know, even though back in the States I don't think anyone (besides my mother) would rate me amongst the most handsome of people. And I feel that much of this phenomenon has to do with the fact that I'm white. The perception of race in Korea, however one may define it, seems to me to be different from the way we look at it back in the States (which isn't in and of itself surprising since racial perceptions, stereotypes, and hierarchies tend to differ from social group to social group). The desire to enlarge the size of one's eyes, for example, certainly stems, in part, from a desire to look more white. I say "white" because, given my students reactions to pictures of Tiger Woods in one of our textbooks (e.g. "His skin is dirty teacher!," "He is ugly!," "I think he is maybe dangerous," etc.), I doubt that Korean women and men are augmenting the size of their eyes so they can look more like Denzel or Beyonce, let alone Gael Garcia Bernal or Salma Hayek. America, with all of its shortcomings, does indeed have a more diverse complexion than Korea. And even though racially hierarchized standards of beauty certainly exist in America, I believe that there is more diversity among what (and who) is considered "beautiful" there than there is here. I remember an incident early on in my teaching career here when one of my Korean colleagues asked me if all Americans have the retractable eyelid like Jessica and I have, to which we replied, "Well, pretty much everyone except the Asian-Americans," invoking one of our own cognized racial categories in the process. Reflecting on that episode, I wonder if my colleague equated "American" with "white" in her mind, even though white Americans aren't the only ones with retractable eyelids. Which leads me to wonder whether the apparent Korean desire to learn "American" English means that they expect their children's teachers to be white (because in their opinion non-white teachers must not speak the "proper" English) and whether that has something to do with why it is more difficult, from what I hear, for non-white foreigners to land a position as an EFL instructor in Korea. It's as if their children's English education isn't authentic unless it's administered by "whitey."

In summation, I don't mean to suggest that Korean women, or men, want to look more "white" and that's why plastic surgery has become so popular among young Koreans recently. However, I do believe that racially charged perceptions of the world exist in Korea (as they do most anywhere) and that my current profession has a seriously problematic relationship with these perceptions. Obviously, this needs to be investigated further, but I am curious if any of you reading this have any comments to add to this discussion.

Here are a couple of other links to mainstream articles about Korea and plastic surgery.

*Although, many of my students also ridicule me relentlessly for my big nose and hairy arms, face, and chest and call me "ugly" in a daily basis.

Intellectual Satisfaction

Yesterday I visited Busan with Jessica and Melissa and was led to an English language bookstore by Melissa's friend and fellow Brisbaner, Hugh, where I happened upon an anthology of journal articles written by anthropologists of Korea, mostly Koreans with a few foreigners thrown in the mix. I am sorely lacking in sources of intellectual stimulation, especially on the anthropology side of things, so needless to say I was in heaven and immediately purchased the book. It was compiled under the direction of Prof. Han Kyung-koo of Seoul National University from articles published in the Korea Journal, a social science publication produced by the Korean National Commission for UNESCO. Unfortunately, I know absolutely nothing about the Korea Journal, and even though their stated intention (to fill a "need for a forum to to bridge the gaps between Korean and non-Korean scholars, to make a space for a multiplicity of voices, and to promote an interdisciplinary academic approach to Korean studies") sounds all well and good, its association with the UN makes me worry that it may be a relatively "conservative" journal by anthropological standards. My cursory search of the Korea Journal website gives me the impression that my fears are completely mislaid, but I am still curious as to where it falls on the spectrum of social science journals dedicated to Korea. If there is anyone out there reading this who is familiar with the Korea Journal or knows of some alternative academic resources about Korean anthropology, any advice would be much appreciated.

Happy New Year (Redux)

This weekend saw the coming of the New Year once again, this time according to the lunar calendar, and with it celebrations in Korea. The holiday is called seollal in Korean and people mark it in several different ways. I was fortunate enough to be invited, along with my other waygukin friends, to the house of our Korean friend, Kang Jung-hoon. Kang’s father was in Qatar on business, so his mother hadn’t planned a big, traditional observance, and therefore no one was dressed in the hanbok. Kang and his sister are also too old for the sebae tradition where children bow before their elders and show deference to them, for which they receive money; most of my students said that they usually got around 100,000 won. However, we did partake in a few traditions. First, we ate ddeokguk, a soup made of rice cake and scallions in a broth to which we added seaweed, egg gidan, sesame seeds, and ground beef, and afterwards we played yut nori, a game wherein in players toss four wooden sticks into the air to determine the movements of four playing pieces around a board. In our “battle of the sexes,” the men defeated the women and split the small wager we had made.

Several weeks ago, Jessica purchased a bokjori (a “scoop” of sorts made from woven bamboo mesh) from a door-to-door salesman, mostly because he made an attempt to deliver his spiel in English even though he clearly didn’t speak it.

During seollal the bokjori is hung on the door outside the house in order to collect good luck for the coming year. Unfortunately, we don’t have any way of affixing it to our door, so it looks like we won’t be having any good luck this year. Another seollal tradition we ignored was moving our shoes out of the entryway and into our bedrooms so that wandering ghosts wouldn’t abscond with them.

As each year on the lunar calendar is represented by an animal, this year is the year of the pig. Many in Korea (and perhaps elsewhere) believe that this is a particularly special year of the pig in that it coincides with the year of the gold element, therefore making this the year of the Golden Pig, an especially lucky year that only comes around every 600 or so years. Plastic, golden piggy banks of all sizes (some are really quite large!) have been on sale in shops throughout the country for months now, which means that some corporation is making a killing off of the Golden Pig marketing scheme. Supposedly, it is also a good year to have children as they will grow up to be intelligent and successful. Our friend Young-woo, who was married only last year, hopes to have a child this year for this very reason (although, his wife may feel differently). In anticipation of this year, Korean wedding halls were booked far in advance in 2006. However, there seems to be some controversy over whether this is indeed the year of the Golden Pig, and even if such a year has existed in history or whether it is a more modern invention. Apparently, some skeptics believe that it may all be a ruse by the Korean government to encourage procreation as they are starting to worry about the declining birth rate. Whatever the case may actually be, I prefer to be optimistic and believe that it is indeed the year of Golden Pig, although personally I don’t plan on having children any time soon.

Couples' Appreciation Day

Valentine's Day has come and gone and once again it wasn't a very big to-do for me as I have no one to properly celebrate it with. It did give me a good excuse to distract my younger students from "real" work and let them make cards to commemorate the day, and I even got chocolates from a few students. But it certainly didn't seem to be as big of a deal for them as Pepero Day was, partly due to the fact that it coincided this year with elementary school graduations, so there wasn't any time for them to exchange gifts with their friends. And for the older Korean couples, it doesn't seem to be as important a day as Christmas, which is the date night to beat all date nights. Some of my students explained to me that there are three days during the year that are focused on couplehood (or the lack thereof). The first is Valentine's Day, when girls are supposed to give chocolates to boys. Next comes "White Day" on March 14th, when boys buy candy and flowers for girls. Finally, there is "Black Day" on April 14th, which is a celebration for singles (finally, something I can participate in!) when boys and girls eat jjajangmyeon (Koreanized Chinese noodles made with black bean paste) with all of their other single friends. This little discussion of coupledom in Korea makes me wish I had some pictures of the most coupley of all Korean couples, those who go out in public dressed in the exact same outfits. It is a very popular look among young couples and really has to be seen to be understood, so if anyone out there has any pictures of Korean couple outfits that they are willing to share I'd love to see them.

The Herbalist Strikes Again

I found myself coming down with a cold yesterday, much to the dismay of my co-teacher, "The Herbalist" Mr. Lee, whom I mentioned in the previous post. When he arrived at work today, he handed me a bottle full of one of his home remedies for the common cold, a combination of seven different herbs found in Korea (the only one he knew in English was ginger root). I have to admit, the taste was not the most appetizing thing to have ever made its way down my esophagous, but I hold out some hope that it will help rid me of this sickness, even if it's only a psychosomatic effect. Here's a look at the thick, brown liquid:

Artemisia absinthium

During the six months that I've been here, I've been introduced to my fair share of herbal medicines, especially since one of my Korean colleagues, Mr. Lee, considers himself an "herbalist" and has made it his responsibility to provide us all with various medicinal teas during this cold and flu season. But today's introduction was stranger than anything I'd seen thus far: ssook ddeok, a greenish cake made of rice powder and wormwood (artemisia absinthium) prepared by one of my student's mother. It actually tasted quite good, although it is very dry and made it necessary to drink several cups of water afterward. My only previous knowledge of wormwood was that it is one of the active ingredients in absinthe, which is, for all intents and purposes, illegal in the States but very legal and popular in my former Bohemian home, Prague. Apparently, the curative properties of wormwood are well-known and it used mostly for the treatment of gastro-intestinal problems. I can't say that I noticed any difference in my physiology, but I'll take the word of the experts.

"Here For A Different Reason"

I had a chance encounter with another young American in Ulsan (visitor, not resident) this weekend that reminded me of a controversial/contemporary issue on the peninsula I had yet to address in this forum. He made the correct assumption that I was an EFL instructor and said "I bet I'm here for a different reason than you are," after which I made the correct assumption that he must be part of the U.S. military presence on the peninsula. Sure enough, he was an airman visiting from the Osan Air Base south of Seoul, an expert in missiles and bombs who is about to be promoted to the rank of staff sergeant. We chatted briefly at one of the foreigner bars in Ulsan that I sometimes (reluctantly) find myself in, and although we had diametrically opposed views on the military and the ongoing colonization of Iraq, he told me some news that I thought was worth remembering: the current Korean Prime Minister wants to evict all U.S. personnel from the peninsula.

Currently, the States have over 30,000 personnel (troops, support, and their families total somewhere around 37,000) in Korea at 22 different bases and camps under the "United States Forces Korea (USFK)" umbrella (in Korean, Ju-han Miguk). The military presence dates back to 1945, the end of the Japanese colonial government and the occupation of the peninsula by the Soviet Union north of the 38th parallel and the U.S. to the south. The two superpowers arbitrarily divided the peninsula into separate occupation zones and supported "ideologically appropriate" regimes in their respective zones, leading to the rise of Lee Seung-man in the south and Kim Il-sung in the north and sowing the seeds of the (inevitable at this point) Korean War. During the war and its aftermath, Cold War politics "necessitated" the U.S.'s military commitment in the south in the eyes of many American international relations eggheads, especially after the successes of Mao Tse-tung to the west. The two successive military dictatorships that ruled in the south until the late 1980s welcomed the U.S. presence as it helped ensure their grip on power. However, ever since Korea has begun moving away from its totalitarian past, the U.S. military's presence has been an issue up for debate. Of course, there are many in the new generation of I.R. eggheads in the States, most of whom have the ear of the current U.S. regime, who believe that it is absolutely necessary to maintain a presence on the peninsula in order to keep tabs on the "nuclear North" and on the "growing danger" posed by China. However, popular support among Koreans for the U.S. military has certainly suffered, as evidenced in pop culture by last summer's blockbuster "Gwoemul" ("The Host") about a monster born of a river polluted by an American base (based on an actual event, at least the pollution part) and in another Korean movie that I wish I knew the title of where the protagonist is attacked and brutalized in an alleyway by a trio of very drunk and very malicious U.S. soldiers. There is also the 2002 incident when two teenage Korean girls were crushed to death by an armored vehicle during a military training exercise, and the subsequent acquittal of the soldiers tried for the deaths by a military court. Not to mention the countless complaints of sexual and physical abuse of Koreans at the hands of American troops over the years (in no way am I saying these individuals are representative of the other, law-abiding members of the USFK, but I am saying that the actions of these few have provoked some significant anger among the Korean public and helped to create a not-so-friendly caricature of U.S. troops stationed here).

Unfortunately, I have not been able to verify the claims of the airman I met this weekend. According to him, the new (as of 2006) Prime Minister, Han Myung-sook (incidentally, the first Korean female Prime Minister) isn't a fan of the U.S. presence and would like to see it reduced and possibly ended as early as 2012. The Prime Minister's role in Korean politics is largely ceremonial and so it's unlikely that her plan, if it does exist, will be implemented, especially given the current stirrings of fear (real and imagined) about the intentions of Kim Jong-il in the north. Still, her opinion is indicative of the the U.S. military's loss of face here since its days as the "savior" of the south in the years following the war.

When The Mighty Fall

Today's news brought with it one of the biggest (and I'm sure most satisfying for some) shocks to hit Korean business since the market crash in the late 1990s: Chung Mong-koo was convicted. For those that don't know, Mr. Chung is the chairman of Hyundai Motor Group, probably the most internationally recognizable entity of the formerly gargantuan Hyundai corporate conglomerate. He is also the son of Hyundai's founder, who enjoys almost mythical status here, and one of the richest (if not the richest) men in Korea, a true legend among legends who benefited from, and contributed to, Korea's rise as an Asian economic powerhouse. His trial for embezzlement of over $100 million from his company's coffers, intended to line the pockets of Korea's political and corporate elite, lasted over six months, and many analysts had warned that his conviction could be devastating to the Korean economy. Others assumed that he would be treated leniently by the court, given his stature in Korea and the nation's past record on dealing with corporate corruption. However, the verdict came down as guilty today, and he was sentenced to three years in prison (which honestly seems a little low to me, and is half of what the prosecutors asked for), although his lawyers have promised to appeal and there's still some skepticism as to whether he'll ever actually serve time.

It's at times like these that I am reminded of what Marx wrote in the 1844 manuscripts: "Under private property ... every person speculates one creating a new need in another, so as to drive him to fresh sacrifice, to place him in a new dependence and to seduce him into a new mode of gratification and therefore economic ruin. Each tries to establish over the other an alien power, so as thereby to find satisfaction in his own selfish need ... Man becomes even poorer as man; his need for money becomes even greater..."