Let's talk about sex, maybe?

By David Tizzard

Well, obviously nothing too forward. I am British after all. We generally become frightfully embarrassed whenever such topics are raised and resort to tugging at our sleeves, muttering something about the weather, or adjusting our shirt collar.

However, many of the stories here in Korea of late have revolved around the issue and so perhaps it needs to be brought out in the open – just a little.

There have been reports of a drastic rise in the number of people diagnosed with syphilis – particularly those in their 20s. This dovetails with statistics highlighting that a majority of South Koreans no longer feel marriage is necessary: Statistics Korea has revealed that among the 39,000 people questioned, less than half believed they would get married.

This perhaps seems par for the course for a developing society. With more and more young women seeking to embark on a professional career or a life of personal attainment, aided in some parts by social and technological changes allowing them more freedoms, there is less likelihood of them seeking early marriage – if at all.

Domestic neologisms have arisen as testament to this – and they are used among women and men. Where previous generations prided themselves on being part of the 386, some young Koreans now reference the sampo-sedae. They are the generation that has given up three things: dating, marriage and childbirth.

(The 386 generation, a hat-tip to the popular computer processing chips of the time, referred to those in their 30s who attended university in the 1980s and were born in the 1960s. More than simply age, however, it was also a mindset that arose after the years of military dictatorship and helped push the country toward democracy.)

There is a rather unseemly side to all this, however. During the week, one of the top trending terms on Naver was "what is grooming?" as the story broke of an Incheon-based pastor accused of sexually assaulting 20 women over the past seven years.

A press conference in Seoul was held by four of the victims on Tuesday while the pastor has apparently fled to the Philippines in a bid to escape any trial or punishment.

There has also been the case involving Yang Jin-ho. Video footage of him three years ago slapping a former employee has been on a non-stop cycle of the Korean news broadcasts, as have pictures of his Lamborghini and Rolls-Royce.

With much of the initial revelations being brought to light by Newstapa and a journalism project called Sherlock, there seems little chance of it stopping soon. Investigations into the wider business practices of Yang and his associates are taking place, there is talk of higher collusion, with the word cartel frequently used, activist groups been very vocal in not only their condemnation of Yang but also in their demands that the investigative authorities do their job correctly, and various petitions have of course been sent to the Blue House's website.

Questions of anger management, bad haircuts and slain chickens aside, attention has also turned to how he made his fortune. Some media outlets, including this paper, have labeled him the "Porn King."

The online storage company WeDisk, of which Yang is chairman, is said to have made about 40 billion won in profit over the past four years – roughly $35 million. Reports claim that the money has been primarily made through hosting illegal pornographic material.

Single-variant causal explanations are often as silly as they are inaccurate, but internet users also point to a 2011 U.S. weekly magazine Newsweek article claiming South Koreans as the world's top buyers of pornographic materials.

And it is not just normal pornography – if such a thing can exist in this day and age – but rather manifestations of broader social issues that have appeared sporadically here in Korea: spy-cam pornography and revenge pornography.

These two categories seem rather more distressing than normal, were we to place pornography on a scale, because they contain images and footage of people that have not given their consent.

"I am not your porn" was one of the more charged – and rightly voiced – cries at the well-attended protests that filled Gwanghwamun, other locations around the country, and domestic and international news reports.

But while no one will surely condone the use of such materials, because it violates a whole host of legal and moral rights, it did make me think, how and where – if at all – pornography on a broader scale should be legal in Korea?

Adult-themed shops are now far more prevalent than previously – and also more visible. K-pop videos verge further and further into the risqué, often pushed forward by a director's cut of the videos intended for a more late-night audience.

But with a whole host of societal, demographic and medical issues surfacing, what stance does Korea take on the issue of sex? Does it remain true to its more conservative roots and repress the wider discussion where possible, despite what side effects this might bring? Or does it openly embrace a '60s-esque revolution and aim for a peninsula of free love?

Of course, as always, the answer is one for the Korean people themselves to find. One might suggest that it probably lies somewhere in the middle. The doctrine of the mean has been a stance advocated by Aristotle and Confucius – as well as many others over the years. Nevertheless, regardless of the position taken, I wonder whether recent issues will lead the people of Korea to a discussion of the topic.

It is all frightfully embarrassing, though. Do beg your pardon. And how about that weather?

David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University.