The Korean Society: No Longer Ethnically Homogeneous

The first time I went back to Korea was eight years after I had left as a fourth grader.  As expected, Korea felt more like a foreign country than my mother country, where I had spent the majority (the first 10 years) of my life at the time.  However, I felt a level of discomfort that, looking back, was not merely from being away from there for so long – it was the way people all dressed so different from me yet so alike one another, the way that people looked at me up and down in elevators, subways, malls…  As a still naïve 18 year-old, I thought there was something terribly wrong with me – like the way I dressed was offensive, the way that I was darker than everyone (from playing field hockey at the time) was wrong and “dirty” (ggwe-je-je.)  Not only was I embarrassed to meet new friends, my neighbors, and even visit my relatives, I was even reluctant to go grocery shopping with my mom.  Once, one of the grocers – my mom’s friend – tried to speak to me in Korean.  When she found out that I had lost fluency in my native language, she clicked her tongue, gave me a sad look, and said, “Oh no… what happened?”  Of course, at the time all I could do was kick myself for being so lazy and not keeping up with Korean, but was this really so wrong?

Once, I went to the nearby health clinic to get a shot and have some check-ups.  There was one man in an LA Lakers jersey, trying to communicate in a mix of broken Korean and English (“Konglish”) about his health insurance.  The nurse, with his crossed arms, looked up-and-down at him, who seemed a bit overweight according to Korean standards, and frowned in incomprehension and disapproval.  He was South Korean by nationality, but like me, had spent a large chunk of his time overseas, and had failed to retain Korean he had learned as a young elementary student.  Watching this interaction made me fear my own future in Korea – one without the help of my mother as a translator, in a society that was terribly unfriendly to those who could not speak their own language.

Even after going back home every break for the past 6-7 years, I have yet to resolve this worry/dissatisfaction with my home country.  Recently, I read an NYT article – “South Koreans Struggle with Race” – and had some of my doubts confirmed.  According to the article, both Amnesty International and the U.N. Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination identify South Koreans’ attitude toward foreigners as racial discrimination and are asking the Korean government to take steps to break down this cultural misconception that Korea was “ethnically homogenous.”  The article also tells the stories of mixed racial couples in Korea and the blatant disapproval or hatred they experience in everyday life.  With the recent phenomenon of more Korean women marrying out, and the rural men turning to South Asia to find brides, it seems that Koreans are becoming even more hostile toward these mixed marriages and relationships.

Of course these are only focusing on the problems in Korean society.  Over the past 6 years, I’ve also realized that Korea’s not a terrible place after all – the culture of ‘service’ and respect for all is not only pleasant in everyday interactions but also a strong foundation for our civil society.  The dining and shopping is to die for and night life is definitely worth the expensive Korean Air tickets.  However, the archaic, xenophobic attitudes of our homogeneous society prevent Korea from becoming the welcoming society of respect and service that it claims to be.

The first time I went back to Korea was eight years after I had left as a fourth grader.  As expected, Korea felt more like a foreign country than my mother country, where I had spent the majority (the first 10 years) of my life at the time.  However, I felt a level of discomfort that, looking back, was not merely from being away from there for so long – it was the way people all dressed so different from me yet so alike one another, the way that people looked at me up and down in elevators, subways, malls…  As a still naïve 18 year-old, I thought there was something terribly wrong with me – like the way I dressed was offensive, the way that I was darker than everyone (from playing field hockey at the time) was wrong and “dirty” (ggwe-je-je.)  Not only was I embarrassed to meet new friends, my neighbors, and even visit my neighbors, I was reluctant to go grocery shopping with my mom.  Once, one of the grocers – my mom’s friend – tried to speak to me in Korean.  When she found out that I had lost fluency in my native language, she clicked her tongue, gave me a sad look, and said, “Oh no… what happened?”  Of course, at the time all I could do was kick myself for being so lazy and not keeping up with Korean, but was this really so wrong?

Once, I went to the nearby health clinic to get a shot and have some check-ups.  There was one man in an LA Lakers jersey, trying to communicate in a mix of broken Korean and English (“Konglish”) about his health insurance.  The nurse, with his crossed arms, looked up-and-down at him, who seemed a bit overweight according to Korean standards, and frowned in incomprehension and frustration.  He was South Korean by nationality, but like me, had spent a large chunk of his time overseas, and had failed to retain Korean he had learned as a young elementary student.  Watching this interaction made me fear my own future in Korea – one without the help of my mother as a translator, in a society that was terribly unfriendly to those who could not speak their own language.

Even after going back home every break for the past 6-7 years, I have yet to resolve this worry/dissatisfaction with my home country.  Recently, I read an NY article – “South Koreans Struggle with Race” – and had my doubts confirmed.  According to the article, both Amnesty International and the U.N. Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination identify South Koreans’ attitude toward foreigners as racial discrimination and require them to take steps to break down this cultural misconception that Korea was “ethnically homogenous.”  The article also tells the stories of mixed racial couples and their difficulties in being accepted in the Korean society.  With the recent phenomenon of more Korean women marrying out, and the rural men turning to South Asia to find brides, it seems that Koreans are becoming even more hostile toward these mixed marriages and relationships.

Of course these are only focusing on the problems in Korean society.  Over the past 6 years, I’ve also realized that Korea’s not a terrible place after all – the culture of ‘service’ and respect for all is not only pleasant in everyday interactions but is also a strong foundation for our civil society.  The dining and shopping is to die for and night life is definitely worth the expensive Korean Air tickets.  However, the archaic, xenophobic attitudes of our homogeneous society prevent Korea from becoming the welcoming society of respect and service that it claims to be.

Unite for Sight: Mental Health as a Public Good

I am now at Yale University, attending the Unite for Sight Conference for the second time.  Since the last conference sparked my initial interest in Public Health, I have taken several courses related to Health – Health and Environment, Children: Diseases, Costs, and Choices, and Developmental Psychology – as well as lead a break trip to New York titled “Healthcare for Children.”  With any luck, I will be joining the Global Health and Health Policy Program (GHP) to receive a certificate (an equivalent of a minor at Princeton) focusing on mental health as a public good – particularly to children whose mental and emotional states are in the tender developing stage.

This interest, however, has not met a lot of support or source of motivation.  At my school, I have been disappointed me with the lack of courses on public health that address issues of mental health.  And at this Unite for Sight conference, where I fully expected some workshops on mental health, it was almost always brushed off as a secondary concern to issues such as physical health or not mentioned at all.

There was, however, one workshop that gave me some hope and motivation.  In one workshop titled “Children’s and Women’s Health,” the founder of the “Global Autism Project” talked of how she had, by chance, helped set up a “Center of Excellence” in Ghana, driven by the initiatives of Ghanaian mothers with autistic children.  After observing the success of such organizations at raising awareness of Autism, where such mental disability was only recognized as “being possessed by the devil,” she started this project to empower the locals to set up such organizations throughout the developing world.  Thus, the Global Autism Project provides two types of services: 1) financial training that shows the local leader how to set up and manage such Center of Excellence, and 2) training on Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) – a psychiatric practice proven to improve the social and cognitive capabilities of autistic children.

From her presentation, two things came to mind.  First, I wondered why the organization had decided to focus solely on autism, when there are so many other mental deficits that impair people from becoming active, content members of their society.  Though I recognize that NGOs are meant to be driven by the founder’s ideologies, I couldn’t help thinking how many more children such program could benefit by including all mental disabilities in their mission.

My second thought was one that popped into my mind throughout all the keynote speeches and workshops: why and how did this person decide to become the founder of such organization?  After learning about the problems of starting small NGOs first hand from the founder of OIWW, Jim Luce, I could not help but worry about such organization’s long-term stability and the welfare of their clients.  Earlier in the conference, the President and CEO of Save the Children, Charles MacCormack, announced a surprising fact – that there is a total of 38 billion dollars that are being used by all types of NGOs around the world.  And how many of them are coordinated to reduce overlaps?  As he mentioned, these organizations are perhaps playing their own music to their own beats, producing a huge cacophony instead of a harmonious symphony.  It troubles me to know that there may be huge amounts that are being wasted on inadequate or overlapped efforts due to lack of cooperation and communication within the non-profit sector.

Perhaps this question pertains to a more personal question of how I can become a part of developing mental health as a public good rather than a private good only for the wealthy individuals of developed nations.  From this conference, I feel as though I am seeing that the public health sector is dominated by doctors, with greater credibility in the health arena than psychiatrists.  And in response, the public and government are devoting more resources and attention to infectious diseases such as HIV/AIDS or malaria.  However, an equally concerning subject ought to be the mental  health of those infected by such diseases.  Though vaccinations may save lives, without mental well-being, the goal of public health – to guarantee health as a public good -  has only been reached halfway.

Korean luxury keeps drunkards off the streets

Children Playing at Korean Spa

If you were to ask me – a Korean student studying abroad in the U.S. – to name one thing I miss most about my home country, I would immediately reply: “Jimjilbang.”  This Korean spa complex that has facilities not only for bathing, but eating, playing games, exercising, getting a manicure/pedicure, watching movies, and getting massages.  It’s too bad America has not absorbed this great part of Korean culture.  (There is actually one in Palisades Park, NJ – but of course, in ‘Korea Town.’)  Originating from the public bathhouses that were first created to accomodate the wealthy, there are over 13,000 Jimjilbangs in Korea and the numbers keep growing.  The main feature of the Jimjilbang are the rooms that are often heated to 60-90 degrees Celsius that allows people to sweat profusely.

Now you may be sitting there thinking, ‘why would anyone want to do that?’  I was in the same position when I visited Jimjilbang for the first time 3 years ago.  But the effect is magical.  The process of sweating relaxes your muscles and helps you get rid of harmful materials that have been accumulating inside your body (or so the Korean doctors say).  It has cosmetic effects too; sweating leaves your skin much more smooth and soft.  Nowadays, some Jimjilbangs have rooms with special features – coals with scents that releases your stress, floors covered with small pebbles for improving your circulation, etc.

However, according to Choe Sang-Hun, a writer for International Herald Tribune, Jimjilbang serves a more important social function – namely, keeping drunkards off the streets.  It’s late at night, you’re drunk, and the subway has stopped (which is around midnight!)  Instead of lying out in the streets or maybe hitching a ride with a drunk friend, one can go to Jimjilbang.  For less than ten dollars, you can take a shower, wear the Jimjilbang’s tee-shirt and shorts, get a midnight snack, and sleep on the cushions and blankets provided for free until the next morning.  Now that Seoul has more than 2,779 sprawled all over the city, those under the influence of alcohol do not need to wobble around too far to get to a nearby Jimjilbang and park themselves for the night.

Having lived in Korea myself, I agree with Choe Sang-Han that it does, in fact, have a great social consequence.  However, there are some negative ones too.  With the Jimjilbang industry quite developed, some teenagers don’t feel the need to get themselves home before the subway stops. (Although there are taxis around, the rates are very high which discourages people from using them.)  As a result, Jimjilbangs reassure these teenagers and encourage them to stay out longer at bars and clubs.  Thus, it is seen to have rendered the younger generation more irresponsible.  In fact, I believe that an unintended consequence of the Jimjilbang boom is a greater source of social strife between the older and the younger generations.

Nonetheless, my love for Jimjilbang will never fade.  Perhaps, after I retire, I’ll make myself useful by exporting the greatest asset of Korean culture – start the new era of Jimjilbang industry in the U.S.

Dokdo Island: Whose Land?

Dokdo – two tiny islets currently inhabited by 2 Korean civilians and 50 Korean policemen – has provoked territorial disputes between South Korea and Japan for more than half a century.  Since Korea’s liberation from Japanese occupation, the question of ownership of this small region (not even visible on the world atlas) has been one of the causes for the continuing strain in the ROK-Japan relationship.  Although the situation had calmed down after the first major disputes during the 50s, it has recently taken spotlight in the Korean media once again.

Only few weeks ago, Japan has changed middle school manuals to claim Dokdo as Japanese territory and has announced plans to make similar changes to high school manuals.  However, ROK continues to make historical, geographical, and legal justifications to claim Dokdo as part of South Korean territory.  Such moves by the Japanese government has raised more anti-Sino sentiments throughout the country, provoking many to boycott Japanese goods.  As a South Korean citizen, I have encountered such sentiments first hand.  Only a few days ago, one of my mom’s friends told us that she cancelled her tour to Japan.  “I have better things to do with that money than to pour it into Japan’s economy,” she said. 

In fact, the South Korean government has announced today to create a task force and even “prepare for a possible armed clash near Dokdo… the government will expand the `Dokdo protection exercise’ as well as dispatch more patrol ships near the islets.” 

This dispute, however, seems quite irrational particularly on the part of South Koreans.  If Dokdo is, in fact, legally a part of South Korean territory, why should Korea be so concerned and angry at the recent changes in some middle school manuals in Japan?  Why do Koreans worry about Dokdo if Koreans do have historical and geographical evidence (there are actually maps and other documents dating back to 512 AD that shows Dokdo as a part of the Korean territory) and have Korean arms protecting its borders?  Moreover, why does the Korean government refuse Japan’s request since 1954 to take the matters to the hands of International Court of Justice?  It seems like such an easy dispute to settle that I almost think that this dispute is entirely intentional–that some Koreans just want to have a reason to remind them of Japanese Occupation and justify their bitter feelings towards Japan.

Seeing the other side

You see a small boy in the streets, and you give him fifty centimes.  Imagine one hundred of you passing by everyday giving this boy fifty centimes.  That’s fifty euros per day.  Imagine how much that boy would earn in a week.  Or a month.  Imagine a family with three children.

In fact, according to the director of Red Cross Chapter in Aix-en-Provence, there are Roma people who are rich enough to own four houses.  Their occupation?  Begging in the streets.  What do they do after they buy four houses?  Return to the streets of Marseille or Paris, or any bustling cities in Europe to earn some more.

On my last post titled “Charity on the streets,” I expressed my hope for a world where everyone who walks down the street can give a nickle, a penny even, to the little boy begging on the side of the streets.  But what would happen if the child could, in fact, earn more money than their middle-aged parents?  Does that give the child more food?  A chance for education?  No.  In fact, the opposite result is more likely to occur: the parent would manipulate their chidren to earn money, maybe keep them from going to school, perhaps not give them much to eat for the fear of them getting fat.  A fat child is less likely to evoke sympathy than a small child, not well-fed, too poor to wear shoes.  I talk in hypothetical.  But this cannot be far from truth.

Then what is the solution?  One idealistic situation: outlaw the whole begging business altogether to force homeless people to go to the shelters where they offer housing, food, and most importantly, education to help these people get jobs.  But where to get the money for such projects in every city?  Would the locals be willing to spend their tax dollars to build and maintain such facilities?  And how could we outlaw begging in the streets?  Would the police fine or jail homeless people for trying to earn a living in the only way they know how?  Such idea seems to create more problems than solutions.  So what exactly can we do?  Perhaps it’s best that each individual decides for him/herself.  As for me?  The next little boy I see begging on the street, I will ask him to go home and learn to read.  Maybe I’ll also give him a piece of my baguette.

Dinner in Aix-en-Provence

I am currently in Aix-en-Provence, a famous, touristy town in Southern France, going through an immersion program to learn French.  (This is actually really bad that I am writing in English, but oh well… please don’t tell my prof.)  A few days ago, an Aixoise woman invited a few students from my program to experience a very traditional dinner at Aix-en-Provence.

As I entered through the gates that swung open to let us in to her gardens, I was absolutely mesmerized by the beauty that suddently surrounded me.  Tall trees everywhere, beautiful perfectly kept flower beds, a large house with several patios surrounding the house…  Upon entering, I was even more astounded by the the appearance… It was as if I were inside a page of “Interior Design” magazine.  On the table, there lie heaping portions of strawberries, a raw piece of chicken, and jars of pickled lemons, anchovies… all the ingredients for us to cook a dinner Provence-style!

We made chicken with herbes, juices of citron, a cake of “tapenade” (with ground up olives and anchovies), some potatoes with Aixois herbes, a strawberry tart, and a peach crumble.  It took all seven of us an hour of preparation.  When we asked her how long it took her to perpare each meal, she replied that she took one and a half hour to prepare each dinner, AND lunches!  Such notion astounded many of us who were so used to the fast pace of life in Princeton.

Such vast difference in preparation for meals reflect the cultural difference I’ve come to see between Americans and French.  Starting from kindergarten, one takes lessons to learn the joy of tasting foods – from cheese to olive oil to the infamous wine (well… probably not in kindergarten).  On Sundays, practically all of the stores close for the entire day.  Even during week days, the most basic department stores close by 6 p.m., allowing workers to return home to their families.  Can you imagine the mall near your home closing at 6 p.m. everyday?!  Or having even the basic grocery stores closing on Sundays?!  It’s just unimaginable to think about such things existing in the U.S.

Anyway, when we finally finished setting up the table and drooling over the food that we prepared, we all sat outside on the balcony, leaving the food inside(!) for later.  We all received half a glass of amazing rose wine and chatted about our studies, education system in France, and our first impressions of Aix.  She had a son our age (a very good-looking boy might I add  who shared with us the difficulties of being a student in Aix.  I shared my dreams of studying psychology or international relations, and eventually working to improve the conditions for orphans in Eastern Europe.  Unfortunately, as I was talking about these topics, the quarter glass of wine started to flush my face (ugh I hate being Asian).  I think others found it quite amusing though.

When we finally returned to the table, we were served more wine (well… everyone except me) and little portions of everything we made in a series of courses.  The dinner took us about two hours.  And this was completely normal for the family!  On some weekends, they said, the family stays at the table until 2 a.m. the next morning, sharing stories, reflections, personal feelings.  For the French, the meals are a time of connecting with others and with oneself.  Such notion seemed so strange to me who’s always thought meals as another chore – just one step that takes me closer to the end of the day when I can finally crash on my bed.  I’m glad I can experience such different way of lifestyle here in Aix.  It’s sad to think that such joyful things just would not fly in the U.S.

Charity on the Streets

What do you do when you see a beggar on the street holding out his hand for some spare change? What if this beggar is an old woman? A five-year old boy? Someone who was born with a severe deformity that she walks on her hands and her feet? Today, I encountered all three in Marseille. And I spent 2,27 euros to give each of them a little bit of something.

Every time I stopped, my friends made remarks like, “Oh, you’re too nice” or “You have the heart of gold.” But why do my actions have to be something extraordinary? Why can’t it be something that is morally obligatory? That my friends could do as well?

Some argue that giving change to beggars does not solve any problem and may even aggravate things; and some of these arguments deserve merit. I understand the argument that these people on the streets (most of whom are Roma) manipulate sympathy of passersby to earn their living little by little. I also understand that many of these beggars ought to find other means of earning money – work as a dishwasher at a restaurant, become a garbage man, or even find ways to craft empty beer cans and resell them as art work! However, many of these beggars on the streets, as the three aforementioned, most likely will not find anyone that will actually hire them. So, the only thing that they can work with is the sympathy of the passersby. Is it so bad to succumb to such manipulations?

Some others argue that it is better to help these people through centralized organizations that will be able to provide them with more durable, long-term solutions.  I agree that such organizations can provide services such as education and soup kitchens that can have a longer impact than simply a dinner at the Macdonald’s. However, why do such long-term solutions have to replace the small change donations which for some is the only possible source of revenue?  How difficult is it to dispense even 5 or 10 centimes to the children and old women begging on the streets for the lack of better alternatives?  I hope one day, such acts will not even be considered as extraordinary or even acts of kindness but simply a part of everyday life.

Bulgarian Orphans Still Crying for Help

From this day on, I will try to learn something new everyday, reflect, and post on this blog my thoughts. Today, I learned that since Bulgaria joined the European Union in 2007, there have been many effective reforms that have improved the conditions in the orphan homes. For instance, the control over the administration of orphan homes have been transferred from the national government to the city’s officials in order to decentralize and make the system more effective.  In fact, orphan homes in many of the big cities such as Sofia and Plovdiv have significantly improved as shown by a recent report by Family Dynamics International.  (Report found on page 4)

This summer, I will be going to one of Plovdiv’s orphanages, Rodopski Pansion, that have been significantly reformed since 2007 through a volunteer organization.  The fact that it has opened up to receive help from international volunteers to stay with the orphans who have no relatives to stay with during the summer shows the significant extent of the reforms.  Although I know that this is an opportunity for me to help these children who are in need of personal attention, I am still troubled by the thought that there are many more orphanages in more rural villages that don’t even have the bare minimum given to the orphans at Rodopski Pansion.  In fact, only couple of days ago, a french reporter released a new documentary that shows that the problem of malnourishment, severe lack of attention, and mortality rates still persist in orphanages of rural villages. (This video)

Maybe one day, when I can speak Bulgarian (which I hope to learn a bit this summer!) I can work independently, outside the volunteer programs that focus on orphanages that are willing to cooperate with them, to reach out to these hidden orphans, abandoned by even the most active humanitarian organizations.  I believe that this is the only way we can bring aid to the orphans most abandoned by our society, who are rocking silently and awaiting their deaths.