By Taru Taylor
``Ppalli ppalli'' (hurry hurry) has served the Republic of Korea well. It denotes South Korea's forty-year development into the 12th largest economy in the world ― the ``Miracle on the Han River.''
``Ppalli ppalli'' denotes the hasty tempo to which Samsung has marched to no. 21, Hyundai to no. 72, and LG to no. 97, on Interbrand's list of the top 100 global brands of 2007. A South Korean is now U.N. Secretary-General. Progress has never been so fast. To the ROK, I say well done.
Now the bad news. South Korean workers and students are as miserable as ever. Morale is at an all-time low. ``Ppalli ppalli,'' that is, the ``ppalli ppalli syndrome,'' denotes the world's highest suicide rate: 26.1 per 100,000 in 2007. The faster South Korea's technology progresses, the faster their psychology regresses. Happiness seems inverse to GDP. Stressed-out Koreans are like lemmings jumping into the Han River.
South Korea has achieved worldly success, but now what? Like a basketball team in panic mode, South Korea needs a timeout. In other words, South Korea needs a renaissance, a ``rebirth.'' The ROK needs to erase ppalli. Upon its clean slate it should encode ``wu wei'' (Chinese for ``action through inaction''). A Korean Renaissance is in order.
The spider spins his web; he then calmly awaits his prey. His proactive waiting epitomizes wu wei. South Korea should now wait. Patiently. But for what? And for what purpose?
The Taegukgi, South Korea's flag ― literally the ``Tao flag,'' suggests the answer. It signifies the cosmic perspective that running-late South Korea so desperately needs. It signifies larger purpose; comprehensive meaning; grand strategy ― circumspection. For it signifies the Tao. It thus promises Korean Renaissance, a Korea reborn through the matrix of the Tao.
``The Land of the Morning Calm'' ― a brand for the ages! South Korea and North Korea would do well to reunify under its banner. To re-brand Korea thus! To do so, South Korea must first of all erase ppalli ppalli, then encode wu wei, as their cultural DNA. Secondly, South Korea must reclaim their title as the most Confucian nation in the world.
I did not say ``Neo-Confucian,'' which describes a religion of stale ritual. I said ``Confucian,'' which describes a philosophy of the Tao. Mencius, the greatest Confucian philosopher not named Confucius, anticipated this confusion: ``Rightness is the road and the rites are the door. Only the gentleman can follow this road and go out and through this door.'' Mencius means that rites are exits and entrances to the Tao. They are portals through which to get to the Tao. Furthermore, that his words are exit signs and entrance signs pointing at the Tao. The gentlemanly scholar, the ``Chun-tzu,'' understands that rites and rituals, words and books, are tokens to decipher and interpret. Only the Tao has intrinsic meaning.
But, for the masses, rites are locked doors without keys. Ritual is sacred; it has intrinsic value; it is therefore a dead end. To them, words are magic formulas. They believe that the fundamental human condition has evolved at the rate of material progress; that comfort and luxury improve quality of life. Why go through the ``door'' when you can chill on the sofa? The ``primordial simplicity'' of the Tao, to quote Taoist philosopher Lao Tzu, is beyond them.
The Korean Renaissance is about seeing the Taegukgi not as a mere entrance sign into South Korea. The South Korean must not apprehend it as his totem. Rather, he must comprehend it as an entrance sign to the Tao. To him it must signify something more than the ROK, more even than unified Korea. It must signify, ultimately, a door to the cosmos.
The Taegukgi signifies a large comprehensive vision, like Italian painter Raphael's ``The School of Athens.'' For, just as Raphael's painting represents Greek philosophy, South Korea's flag symbolizes Chinese philosophy. The Tao, its central image, is the school of China, for yin and yang bracket Oriental discourse.
The Italian Renaissance was about interpreting the ancient Greeks within a modern context. The Renaissance man grasped the timeless quality of the ``ancients.'' To the Renaissance man, ancient ideas were state of the art. Led by Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael, the Italians made the school of Athens their own. They fit their contemporary Italy into the cosmos as conceived by their forbears. To make the point, Raphael painted Plato in Leonardo's image, Heraclitus in Michelangelo's, and the lone nameless figure who looks directly at the viewer he painted, well, in his own image. ``Western civilization,'' so-called, have followed suit by standing on the shoulders of Plato and Aristotle.
Marcus Garvey led the Harlem Renaissance of the early 20th century. He designed the Red Black & Green flag. This symbol of Pan-Africanism signified the ``New Negro,'' disciple of the school of Egypt. Thoth, the greatest Egyptian philosopher, and Osiris, his disciple who civilized Egypt 12,000 years ago, are denoted by the Red Black & Green. But modern African civilization have not followed suit.
The Taegukgi denotes Confucius and Lao Tzu. It signifies Confucianism, which interprets the Tao as the path of duty, and Taoism, the Tao as the pathway to the cosmos-the Confucian ethic and the Taoist metaphysic. The Taegukgi offers wu wei as an antidote to the ppalli ppalli insanity. Who will initiate the Korean Renaissance? Will Eastern civilization follow suit? Will they stand on the shoulders of Confucius and Lao Tzu?
The writer teaches English at Semyung University in Jecheon, North Chungcheong Province. He can be reached at tarutaylor@gmail.com.