By Hur Mi-young
Jon Huer's Jan. 31 article in The Korea Times posit a simplistic thesis that ``most American businessmen, diplomats, military personnel, tourists, teachers and any number of those who have had a brush with Korea find its thought pattern among the strangest, and its behavioral rationale among the most difficult to comprehend.''
Huer describes himself as one who believes in ``rational explanation for all social phenomena.'' But without objectivity, how can one be truly rational? Instead, he betrays himself with a Euro-centrism that is almost quaint if not downright passe.
He writes: ``As for geography, if you take Europe as the starting point and expand your horizon in both directions, east and west, the Korean Peninsula is seen at the very edge of the world.''
He continues, ``If Alexander the Great had pushed on toward the `farthest point of the world,' as he had originally wished, he would have stopped in Korea. Of all the nations he encountered on his eastward progress, the cluster of the tiny kingdoms now called Korea would have been at the very edge of the known world.''
Cartography as well as global communications would indeed be so much easier if the world was flat. I suppose, in this intellectual exercise, we are to imagine that before we sail off the edge of the world, we are to ignore the lands and peoples further east than Korea.
For example, Japan and Australia and Siberia do not count. And as for all those island dwellers, they don't even exist on the map, not the one belonging to Alexander the Great, anyhow.
For some reason, Huer not only limits his discussion geographically, but also historically. Why are we to measure the world as it was defined in antiquity? Are Americans, or the ones that Huer has interviewed for this piece, that culturally myopic?
Thus, I am insulted not only as a cultural relativist, but also as a budding world conqueror. The world is much bigger now, even bigger than what it was in the days of Marco Polo, but he was only a proto-sociologist.
There are many more ``strange" and ``impenetrable" ― dare I say even ``inscrutable" ― people to categorize and generalize. In fact, as a collector of antiquarian maps, I'm rather peeved that Huer has not consulted my mappa mundi, preserved from the medieval age, which I consult when planning any international trips.
Perhaps this was Huer's intent, to illustrate in his own mappa mundi through schematic simplicity and not by any scientific analysis, that Korea is ``the strangest'' because of its easternmost geography (in relation to Alexander the Great), and its language the ``most difficult.''
(Never mind that linguists place it in the Turkic-Altaic linguistic family, which also includes Turkish, Finnish, Hungarian and Japanese. But those cultures don't count. The Ottoman Empire was simply a fluke.)
A sociologist studies human societies, its development and structure. But Huer loads his slender piece with such dangerously reductive terms that discourage rather than enlighten.
It's provocative, to be sure, and a daring piece of scholarly work that argues: Korea is ``strange'' to foreigners because it is a foreign culture. Is it the most strange because it is the most foreign? How does one measure that?
This opinion in itself is not interesting enough, however, so he repeatedly emphasizes that Korea is one of ``the strangest'' and ``most impenetrable.'' Surely that would ruffle some feathers. But why the superlatives? And who's polling?
Perhaps we should remind ourselves that though Huer is a sociologist, he is writing an opinion piece, not submitting an academic paper. But he almost advertises it as such by bandying about his field of study as if that is enough to bolster his thesis.
As for evidence, he lists a few headlines, but instead of trying to understand Korea within its specific context, he judges and labels from an outsider's, or a rhetorical outsider's, point of view. A more constructive piece would have attempted to explain these recent events within the context of Korea's culture.
But for whom is Huer speaking? He is not only generalizing all of Korean culture ― his understanding gleaned from having lived in Korea for over a decade ― but he is also generalizing foreigners. That, also, I'm assuming, was gained from the experience of having lived in Korea, mostly as a foreigner.
As a global citizen, I find this patronizing. Are we really that chauvinistic, or can we remain as such, when the global economic shakedown will surely produce a new multi-power world-scape?
And as if his thesis wasn't defeatist enough, Huer extends his article into a deterministic and rather fatalistically dramatic conclusion:
``As a curse, it keeps Korea forever in the black hole of impenetrable oddness. Trapped by such immutable aspects of history and culture, Korea will remain strange and incomprehensible to the rest of the world for a long time to come.''
But perhaps the sociologist should not be faulted for his prose style. He has submitted his opinion and incited controversy. He has begun a dialogue. Perhaps he will attract defensive writers who'll simply re-orient their rhetoric to his, again allowing the outsider to both judge and influence and structure.
Or perhaps his piece will inspire both native and foreigner to think and reflect deeply, to explore and analyze rather than come to such quick conclusions.
We are not limited by language and culture if we endeavor to study and understand others, as well as help others understand our own perspective. Willingness and hard work are necessary to bridge gaps, certainly, but language does not confine us.
Language is, however, dangerous when used irresponsibly, and the language of Huer's piece is such, misleading and dismaying. He ``offers'' his own reasons for Korea's ``strangeness,'' but prefaces it as someone who's lived in Korea for over a decade and values ``rational explanations for social phenomena.'' Rational thought, however, depends on nuanced and complex analysis, especially when it comes to history and culture.
Also, it's telling that in his article, Huer seldom puts forth his own opinion except at the very end. Before that, all his ideas are credited to ``many foreigners.'' He possibly hides his own alienation and incomprehension behind the collected opinions of ``most Americans'' who've had a ``brush with Korea.''
Opinions belong to one man. They should not be attributed to a general whole about another general whole. And where he does assert his own opinion, he writes about Korea's cursed fate, trapped in the ``black hole of impenetrable darkness.''
A poet and a doomsayer prophet. But what has he been teaching all these years in Korea? That his students will be forever mired in their inscrutability, or simply that he could never reach through to them? And what is the rational explanation for that social phenomenon?
Hur Mi-young is a professor of English at the Hankuk University of Foreign Studies. She can be reached at angela.hur@gmail.com