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.
Korea's 'Naembi Geunseong' Society
Courtesy of Matthew Schwartz
By David A. Tizzard
Korea is often celebrated for its resilience and dynamism. It’s constantly changing, adapting, and redefining itself. While this might produce an existential crisis in terms of identity, it has also resulted in the country punching far above its weight on the global stage. The economic rise, the democratization and the cultural export juggernaut stands testament to Korea’s collective drive and ingenuity. What one misses when focusing on the globally admired achievements however is an oft-discussed societal trait: “naembi geunseong.” This idiom talks of a boiling pot. But it is not just about being quick to anger or to action, it’s more specifically about the tendency to heat up passionately before then cooling just as rapidly. It is inspiring and problematic. The source of great achievement and frustrating missed opportunities.
Of course, it is not exclusively Korean. That some people will be deeply interested in a political issue in the morning and then spend their evenings watching a rom-com should be understood as human behavior rather than the unique act of a particular group. And this tendency to shift attention, multitask, and be gripped by a series of different events has also been exacerbated by technology and the rise in importance of the individual voice. People ask me frequently to speak on Palestine, Russia, Musk, Syria and polar bears, but I often decline because I know enough on these subjects to know how little I know and thus prefer listening to those with deeper insight. We’re all guilty of naembi geunseong in some way, irrespective of our nationality. Nevertheless, this is a term that some Korean people use when describing themselves and their own society.
Korea’s swift reactions
In a nation as hyper-connected and fast-paced as South Korea, where “bballi-bballi” (quick, quick) is a lifestyle, it is hardly surprising that trends and movements flare up with such speed. Political scandals dominate headlines and flood social media feeds for days, often leading to mass protests, impassioned debates, and public demands for accountability. Yet they are often forgotten, swept aside by the next story du jour. Karina’s boyfriend, Suga’s drink-driving, Lee Sun-kyun’s suicide, and Moon Ga-bi’s baby had everyone debating specific issues surrounding fame, mental health and parenthood for a few days. The stories dominated news cycles and reddit discussion pages, people tweeted about it, radio shows and television programs made sweeping statements about how each of these events represented something more fundamental about Korean society (is that what I’m doing now?), and then…? Gone. Everyone had an opinion for a few days, it was the biggest issue the country was facing, and then no one cares. We’re back to watching reruns of “My Mister” and talking about the acting in the latest blockbuster movie “Harbin.”
A new K-pop group, drama, or TikTok challenge catches fire seemingly overnight. We need to know what dance the baseball cheerleaders are doing, we have to eat Dubai chocolate. Beauty standards, lifestyle habits, and even language explode in popularity. Neophilia takes hold and we seek the dopamine rush of the new. Something else to define us and give us meaning in a world without god or purpose. But then the trend rarely endures. The boiling pot cools, leaving only traces of yesterday’s obsessions. Rubbish dumps are filled with plastic memories of last month’s craze. The supermarket shelves and local convenience stores remind you how honey butter snacks and green onion cereal were once the most important thing the nation had to offer.
Populism or democracy?
In the world of politics, naembi geunseong lends itself to a form of governance that often feels more like populism than democracy. Far smarter people than me have discussed whether what we see in the streets of Seoul is actually democracy or rather the overspilling of emotions, ignited purposefully by particular groups to achieve certain goals. It feels wrong to say it’s either one or the other but rather that both are at play simultaneously. The gusts of popular feeling still blow through this nation in the 21st century.
Politicians increasingly cater to the immediate emotional reactions of the electorate, prioritizing short-term gains and performative gestures over substantive policymaking. “We will give you money,” they say with a smile. “We will attack the enemy,” they shout. The enemy being Tokyo or Pyongyang accordingly. And thus public opinion shifts rapidly, driven by viral news stories or trending hashtags, leaving little room for the deliberation that democracy requires. “No Japan” as a national movement to prohibit the purchase of goods made in Tokyo is quickly replaced by a flood of stories about Chinese immigrants causing problems, Joseon-jok and their visas, and foreign nationals from Beijing being to blame for the housing prices here in Seoul. For those with their nose to the ground, it feels like we’re about to shift back to the former position as the presidency changes. That will also mean North Korea no longer being the country that sends trash and abuse into our country and helps kill Ukrainian soldiers but rather our brothers and sisters who have been mercilessly excluded and downtrodden by imperialist ideologies, capitalism and colonialism.
It happens with more domestic issues, too. Korean governments’ responses to issues such as housing, gender inequality and economic disparity often feel reactionary. Policies are introduced hastily to quell public dissatisfaction but are rarely followed through with consistency or rigor. Societal trust in institutions erodes, and the cycle of fleeting outrage repeats itself. Democracy is replaced by “emo-cracy,” the rule of emotions rather than the people.
Strength or weakness?
Of course, there is something undeniably powerful about Korea’s ability to mobilize quickly and passionately. It reflects a deeply ingrained collectivism and an admirable refusal to accept the status quo. The naembi geunseong trait has fueled revolutions, toppled dictators, and propelled the nation onto the global stage. It is the reason that the recent martial law was overturned so quickly. It brought people into the streets despite the cold. However, its long-term consequences warrant reflection.
If Korea’s pot is to boil with purpose, it must sustain the heat long enough to produce meaningful outcomes. This requires cultivating a culture of patience, persistence and critical thinking. It has to temper the fervor of the moment with the wisdom of the long view. Without these, the nation risks burning itself out in its relentless cycle of boiling and cooling. While the events we are currently witnessing in Korean politics feel new and unprecedented, as something that needs to be addressed immediately with new laws to be created, powers to be applied and people appointed, at the same time I can’t help but feel we’ve been here many times before. And, if we’re not careful, we’ll be here again in the not-too-distant future.
Korea’s challenge will be to harness the energy of its naembi geunseong while building structures that endure. If the nation can transition from a society of fleeting populism to one of enduring democracy, it will have achieved something great. Obviously this is not easy, and is perhaps becoming harder than ever with social media and the current culture, but I’ve long learned to not bet against this country. And who can deny the taste of the food cooked in these wonderful Korean pots?
David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.