‘Yield yields yield’

Attracting the attention of the entire nation, the labor-management negotiations of Korea's top global electronics company had continued, with both sides engaging in brinksmanship. Seeing the news, I remembered a tongue twister I learned from my British friend a long time ago: “Yield yields yield.”

In the modern world, we are often told to fight, hustle and never give up. The mantra of our age is resistance: resist traffic, resist the boss, resist the temptation to check your phone during dinner.

Yield means to surrender, give way or step aside. But curiously, the word yield also whispers a different philosophy, meaning to produce, generate or bring forth. The paradox is delicious: Sometimes, when we yield, we yield more.

Take the morning commute: Drivers who refuse to yield at congested roads often end up yielding nothing but honks, curses and insurance claims. The stubborn refusal to let another car pass is a small act of defiance, but it rarely yields happiness. On the other hand, the driver who graciously yields the right of way discovers that traffic flows more smoothly, tempers cool and the journey yields more peace. Yield yields yield.

Consider workplace politics: The employee who insists on winning every argument and never yields in meetings may think they are producing results. In reality, they yield resentment, eye-rolls and whispered complaints. Contrast that with the colleague who occasionally yields, who concedes a point and who lets another take the spotlight. That act of surrender often yields goodwill, collaboration and better outcomes. Yield yields yield.

Even in personal relationships, the lesson is clear. Couples who refuse to yield in disagreements often yield nothing but silence at dinner tables and cold shoulders at bedtime. Yet the partner who yields and says “I’m sorry. Let’s just do it your way,” discovers that the act of concession yields laughter and maybe even affection. Yield yields yield.

There is a comic irony in how modern culture treats yielding. Self-help gurus preach “Never give up!” while yoga instructors whisper “Let go.” Economists measure crop yields while philosophers measure moral yields. Politicians yield the floor while farmers yield the harvest. The word itself is a linguistic yield farm, producing meanings as diverse as surrender and abundance.

Perhaps that is the secret: Yielding is not weakness but strategy. The farmer yields to the seasons and the soil yields crops. The scientist yields to evidence and the experiment yields truth. The comedian yields to the audience’s laughter and the show yields joy. Yielding is not defeat; it is the art of turning resistance into production.

The next time you are tempted to dig in your heels, remember the paradox that yielding may feel like loss, but it often yields gain. Yielding may look like surrender, but it often yields strength. Yielding may seem like silence but it often yields harmony.

Yield is the quiet rebel of vocabulary. It mocks our obsession with victory by showing that surrender can be fruitful. It satirizes our fixation on productivity by reminding us that sometimes the best way to yield results is to yield control.

What do you think about my introduction of this tongue twister? Do you agree that the outcome of this Samsung negotiation can be meaningfully compared to it? I sincerely hope it will become so.

Sho Chang-young is a retired high school teacher and former principal of Gunsan Girls’ High School.