David Tizzard is a professor at Seoul Women’s University, holds a PhD in Korean Studies, and hosts the Korea Deconstructed podcast. He has lived and worked in Seoul for more than two decades. Reach him at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.
South Korea: death and gapjil
Jian Seo and David Tizzard
By David A. Tizzard
By Jian Seo and David Tizzard
If you spend enough time in South Korea, it soon becomes apparent that a hierarchy permeates through much of society. People are ranked according to age, title, and other factors and these then determine which language and actions one should use in dealing with people.
Your bow, your verb endings, the angle at which you drink, and even how you give and receive objects will change according to the relationship and the person with whom you are interacting. Pay close enough attention and you can see these social rankings and positions appear above people's heads like in the BBC drama “Sherlock."
To say nothing of the rights or wrongs of this cultural practice, it is rather different from adopting a position in which all are equal before the law, in the eyes of God, and all those other Occidental jazzy ideas.
Many Koreans have been (and still are) raised in a competitive social and economic environment. With teachers continually contrasting blue collar and white collar jobs, students eventually create a false dichotomy in their mind between occupations that are desirable and those that are undesirable. A refusal to study hard will not only lead to national economic failure, but also personal disgrace by having to take on a profession that is seemingly “worthless.”
In this way, young Koreans are consistently taught about the importance of social achievements and capabilities (known colloquially as “spec-up”) that then enable them to move up the social ladder. Enrolling in a prestigious university becomes an essential step rather than an individual choice.
Why? Society measures education level as a prerequisite for high-paid and socially recognized jobs. This is also common elsewhere, of course. But Korea is a land of extremes and such factors are exacerbated here by the heat of a million Sons, Parks, and Lees.
The position one holds in society bestows great responsibility and requires one to act with benevolence, care, and warmth to those with who you are in a relationship. It is reciprocal. And when it works it really seems to create bonds that strike deep into the core of what it means to be human.
But when it does not work, problems appear. And this is how the ugly truth shows its face.
We see dehumanization, social ostracization, and class-based warfare. The rich and elite look down on manual workers, often asking them, “What are you?” rather than, “Who are you?” They use language that places those whom they abuse on the lowest rung of a growing social ladder, if not below it altogether.
Korea has become well acquainted with the term “gapjil” in recent years. While the phenomenon itself is not new (the physical, psychological, or emotional abuse of power and privilege), the neologism soon shot to the top of news reports, internet searches, and kakao chat rooms.
Instead of merely remarking at the crazy peanut-throwing antics and chauffeur-abusing antics of the rich and famous in the country, South Koreans now have an established term they can use to delineate such immoral and, frankly, disgusting behavior.
And the term is being used once more ― the country has watched in disbelief and horror as details emerge of the death of an employee in what is being labeled a gapjil-related murder.
A security guard (Choi, 59), had been working at an apartment complex in northern Seoul. In the process of doing his job, he had apparently angered a resident named Shim, who also happens to be an entertainment producer. Reports indicate events that events unfolded something like this, although details are still being clarified and verified through official investigations.
On April 20, while Choi was assisting with double-parked cars in the residents' lot, Shim repeatedly berated him and referred to him as a “servant.” On April 23, Shim appeared in Choi's office where he spoke in a threatening manner and demanded that the security guard quit his job. Finally, on April 27 (or May 3), Shim utilized the absence of CCTV in a certain area and punched Choi, punching in the face, breaking his nose.
Shim verbally attacked and physically assaulted Choi over a period. Reports suggest that Shim believed the maintenance costs he paid in the apartment were equivalent to Choi's wages as a security guard. This then also gave him jurisdiction and control over Choi.
There was seemingly little that Choi could do; Power distances in Korea and the sense of entitlement is often insurmountable barrier. Furthermore, Choi believed he could not report these incidents as it would mean risk losing his job and his livelihood. Thus, deprived of soul, and angered by the abuse he was receiving, took his own life two weeks ago. He left two daughters.
Seeing a security guard forced to take his own life because of the gapjil he received at the hands of an entitled resident has provoked a furious public response. A petition demanding South Korea becomes a country “free from both gapjil and suicide” has passed 40,000 signatures online.
But will it work? Or is Choi simply another in the line of victims who will suffer, much like the security guard who set himself alight in 2014 because of the constant mistreatment he received?
In 2014, the Committee on the Judgment of Occupational Diseases declared that the security guard's self-immolation had been triggered by continued conflict and stress while communicating with residents. Setting an important precedent, the committee judged that the security guard's accumulated stress must have escalated to a level to which one could not make decisions based on their usual or ordinary cognitive abilities and this eventually led to death.
This was the first time that a worker's suicide was recognized as an industrial accident caused by emotional labor (kam-jeong no-dong). Originally coined in 1983 by Arlie Hochschild, emotional labor centers on the regulation of one's internal emotions, particularly when dealing with external colleagues or customers, or, as is the case in Korea, superiors.
Stop for a minute, however ― why are such deaths categorized as industrial accidents? Why are they not described as murder or manslaughter?
The tragic deaths of these security guards are similar in that the situation was fueled by behavior and abuse rather than the victims' own desires or actions. Had the perpetrators acted with greater dignity, respect, and egalitarianism, these workers would likely still be alive.
Examining these “industrial accidents” cases, it becomes clear that the emotional suffering (ma-sang) caused by others is not a symbol of individual weakness, but instead akin to a weapon that leads to the deaths of others.
This “ma-sang” was pushing security guards off buildings and consequently off of this earth; yet society remained silent and largely ignorant. Ma-sang was seen as an individual weakness rather than a societal problem: an individual purgatory rather than part of Hell Chosun.
In a society of supposed superiors and subordinates, we are all possible victims of gapjil. A brutal hierarchy has stretched out from the traditional caste system that permeated its dynastic reign, to the modern military, the entertainment sector, sports and citizens' daily lives.
Gapjil becomes a negative spiral of hatred, alienation, and discontent. Those who suffer at the hands of their boss then pass this on to those below them. A trickledown effect ― but dripping with anger, spite, and blood. Psychologically, people seek compensation for the wrongs that have been done to them ― they seek revenge.
Much of Korean society is reinforcing this, consciously and unconsciously, explicitly and unintelligibly. We do it when we reinforce social positions and occupations through education and classroom discussions. By focusing on superior positions, we simultaneously give birth to the inferior ― those seen, and treated, as less than human.
The fundamental problems and challenges remain unsolved at societal level. Are we simply to wait for the next death and then enact another series of knee-jerk reaction laws? Do we wait for more gapjil victims?
Legal punishment should be stronger in the face of gapjil. Furthermore, workers and laborers (particularly the growing class of non-regular workers being created by modern capitalism) need greater protection and rights. They need to be seen as something more than just a temporary tool; more than an expendable machine; and instead as ends in themselves worthy of respect.
Laws and regulations require greater public consciousness and awareness. The government and apartments should create working environments in which security guards and manual workers are able to raise objections to such mistreatment rather than feel trapped by economic pressures to stay in abusive relationships.
Greater public consciousness and awareness of these issues are required: the significance of ma-sang, the traumatic working environments that manual workers face and the prevalence of gapjil.
South Korea has proved itself capable of great economic feats, it has responded admirably to the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic, but an old foe still needs defeating. The country has gone far since the trial of reconciliation, but now it requires a new ethical education for the youth and a re-education of the population so that the false dichotomy of gapjil leaves society.
South Korea is a marvelous country, but it no longer needs to be one of death and gapjil.
Jian Seo (jiannieforever@gmail.com) studies International studies and Clothing & Textiles at Hanyang University. She is a society section reporter at The Hanyang Journal, a member of Hanyang University Major Manager, and a member of the Hanyang Debate Society.
David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University where he teaches Korean Studies and an adjunct professor at Hanyang University lecturing in World History and Political Science. He discusses the week's hottest issues on TBS eFM (101.3FM) on "Life Abroad" live every Thursday from 9:35 a.m. to 10:00 a.m.