By David Tizzard
K-culture is differentiated from Korean culture in a variety of ways. The former is primarily constructed for export, and its success or failure is determined by the waves it makes overseas. It is polite, well-mannered, and now contains a hybrid of many different styles so as to achieve mass appeal and maximum profits.
Much of what is produced by K-culture is "glocalized." That is, it creates a third-space of culture by taking and responding to elements of global influence, combining them with local processes, and producing something unique.
This newly-created culture therefore has both universal and particular characteristics. It has the production values and technological advancements expected from a successful nation as well as specific socio-cultural characteristics that reflect local tendencies in terms of economics, religion, and cultural ethos.
It can be seen to empower local communities, allowing them a means through which to express themselves and be understood not only by those around them but also a far wider audience. It is not homogenization but rather hybridization achieved through the interplay of two different forces.
The textual and structural impurities of many recent K-culture products, from BTS's "Dynamite" to "Itaewon Class," are ultimately a positive thing and have also come to characterize Korea's continued growth. Where Asia was once the region for Korean exports and the mending of relations among other nations, now Korea looks rightly and proudly to both North America and Western Europe and achieves great success with its cultural products characterized by mixed textual aspects.
Nothing escapes the commodification of K-culture. Even something as staunchly anti-capitalist as North Korea can have Hyun Bin's face put on it and be subsumed into the entertainment industry and turned into profit: Something as abhorrent as a North Korean prison-state can make people feel good in a fantasy world where nothing really bad happens and the good guy always wins…and gets the girl. The crash landing always ultimately ends up as a rather soft and pleasant heteronormative landing.
Korean culture, as opposed to K-culture, is, for the most part, constructed by Koreans, about Korea, for Koreans. It is a story Korean people tell themselves about themselves. It shapes the lives of people living here and is integrated into the daily experience.
Korean culture is of course not static but rather a dynamic process in which people, heroes, events, and collective memory are all subject to reinterpretation on a frequent basis. Because of the prolonged periods of repression on the peninsula, from the brutal Japanese occupation to the authoritarian military rule of the latter half of the twentieth century, the past is continually being reimagined and reconstructed.
Such reimaginings are carried out to help make sense of the world. To paraphrase an idea of American anthropologist Clifford Geertz: "Man is a spider suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun. Culture is that web."
Sometimes, it might be suggested that passionate international consumers and fans of K-culture only see the spider and completely miss the web in which she sits. They see, for example, the beauty, glitz, and hyper-reality of the latest K-cultural product but they do not understand the societal context in which it has been produced.
The two have begun to see significant overlap recently, however. Now the stuff made for domestic audiences is gaining greater traction overseas, and it's worth considering what that means.
The Covid-19 pandemic has claimed nearly 2 million deaths worldwide and the psychological, sociologic, and economic devastation has been very real for a great many more. Yet in a rather fortuitous manner, it has been quite the boon for the K-industry.
Social distancing and various levels of lockdown have seen much of the planet's population (at least those of us not invading Capitol buildings) stuck inside our houses. And while there, if not drinking, working from home, or trying to keep the children from climbing up the walls, many have been watching Netflix.
Netflix is available in 190 countries and currently has approximately 195 million subscribers. And because of the ease with which accounts can be shared by multiple people, there are most likely well over 200 million people watching its content.
Netflix's plan was always to use Korean content as a way to increase Asian subscriptions to the on-demand video platform. This was rather an astute decision because in 2020's top ten TV series in various countries around the region, Korean shows absolutely dominate: Malaysia (nine out of 10 were Korean), Vietnam (eight), the Philippines (seven), Thailand (six), Hong Kong (six), and Japan (five).
From "Winter Sonata" in 2002 onwards, great swathes of Asia have clamored to watch Cinderella-like fables acted out by beautiful stars. Many of these dramas have focused on promoting a sense of purity, innocence, and Disney-esque romances as two lovers strive to find the most romantic spot they can to either hold hands or, when it gets really steamy, kiss each other on the lips.
For comparison, it's worth considering that when "Winter Sonata" was a huge hit in Asia, the west was watching "The Sopranos" (1999) and "The Wire" (2002). Korea's compressed modernity and turbo capitalism over the past couple of decades is very real.
While saccharine dramas such as "Winter Sonata" are still popular and superbly produced, the latest Korean product to hit the headlines for its international success is not likely to be mentioned by President Moon in any of his speeches.
The President gave shout-outs to BTS, BLACKPINK and a host of sports stars and also promised to support these artists in their efforts to promote Korea abroad, rightly pointing to the great happiness they have brought to many.
The Moon administration created a Hallyu department last year seeking to create an environment in which artists can flourish. It's a far cry from the blacklists of the previous regime, but one can only hope the old guys in suits don't get too involved in the creation of culture for international consumers: "How You Like That" is a mood; "I Seoul U" still doesn't make any sense.
The Hallyu department said it would be focusing largely on the e-sports industry and beauty products. However, just like everyone completely missed that Psy would be the one who would first secure a huge hit in the States, the big wigs in the department also seem to have missed the latest international success.
The show "Sweet Home" has dominated Netflix charts around the globe. It has ranked first in 11 countries thus far, including Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Qatar, and also ranked top 10 in parts of North America and Europe.
"Sweet Home" had previously been a very successful webtoon (an online vertical scrolling Korean comic) and this will likely have contributed to much of its success. But it's the content that most interests me.
This is not a syrupy and sentimentally sweet family drama demonstrating middle-class values or an English language pop song purchased from abroad: this is a Korean product that brings to light some of the country's most distressing and dark realities.
In the first 15 minutes of "Sweet Home," you see the clear theme of suicide, a young girl battling to be a pop star and not be forced into prostitution, "gapjil" (arrogant and authoritarian attitude or actions of people in powerful positions), alienation, class consciousness, over-eager Christians, psychotic mothers, girls smoking and swearing, and people living in tiny cramped conditions.
This is Korea as it is. This is critical realism.
"Sweet Home" highlights the facts of Korean society rather than the constructed product created for export. It's realistic in that it exposes the great many flaws and troubles that afflict the citizens.
This is the spider with the web included, and constructed by the spider for other spiders having to deal with the same challenges of that same web.
Like the best-selling book, "Kim Ji-young, Born 1982," which highlighted the androcentric nature of Korean society and the Sisyphean battle many women here face, some of the latest things out of Korea to be successful abroad aren't self-congratulatory or part of a collective celebration. They are real reflections of the lives of Koreans.
Perhaps, in a weird way that was what Psy got right with "Gangnam Style": it was a critique of the rich and entitled people that inhabit the capital's trendiest neighborhood.
There are of course countless other examples which I have no doubt forgotten to mention, but the change in how the Korean story is told by Koreans to people overseas is becoming more nuanced and more real in places, and it's fascinating to observe it taking place.
Will this critical realism be what characterizes the new wave of Hallyu? We can only wait and see…while we're stuck at home watching Netflix.
Dr. David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean studies and is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University. He discusses the week's hottest issues on TBS eFM (101.3 FM) on "Life Abroad" live every Thursday from 9:35 a.m. to 10 a.m.
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Much of what is produced by K-culture is "glocalized." That is, it creates a third-space of culture by taking and responding to elements of global influence, combining them with local processes, and producing something unique.
This newly-created culture therefore has both universal and particular characteristics. It has the production values and technological advancements expected from a successful nation as well as specific socio-cultural characteristics that reflect local tendencies in terms of economics, religion, and cultural ethos.
It can be seen to empower local communities, allowing them a means through which to express themselves and be understood not only by those around them but also a far wider audience. It is not homogenization but rather hybridization achieved through the interplay of two different forces.
The textual and structural impurities of many recent K-culture products, from BTS's "Dynamite" to "Itaewon Class," are ultimately a positive thing and have also come to characterize Korea's continued growth. Where Asia was once the region for Korean exports and the mending of relations among other nations, now Korea looks rightly and proudly to both North America and Western Europe and achieves great success with its cultural products characterized by mixed textual aspects.
Nothing escapes the commodification of K-culture. Even something as staunchly anti-capitalist as North Korea can have Hyun Bin's face put on it and be subsumed into the entertainment industry and turned into profit: Something as abhorrent as a North Korean prison-state can make people feel good in a fantasy world where nothing really bad happens and the good guy always wins…and gets the girl. The crash landing always ultimately ends up as a rather soft and pleasant heteronormative landing.
Korean culture, as opposed to K-culture, is, for the most part, constructed by Koreans, about Korea, for Koreans. It is a story Korean people tell themselves about themselves. It shapes the lives of people living here and is integrated into the daily experience.
Korean culture is of course not static but rather a dynamic process in which people, heroes, events, and collective memory are all subject to reinterpretation on a frequent basis. Because of the prolonged periods of repression on the peninsula, from the brutal Japanese occupation to the authoritarian military rule of the latter half of the twentieth century, the past is continually being reimagined and reconstructed.
Such reimaginings are carried out to help make sense of the world. To paraphrase an idea of American anthropologist Clifford Geertz: "Man is a spider suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun. Culture is that web."
Sometimes, it might be suggested that passionate international consumers and fans of K-culture only see the spider and completely miss the web in which she sits. They see, for example, the beauty, glitz, and hyper-reality of the latest K-cultural product but they do not understand the societal context in which it has been produced.
The two have begun to see significant overlap recently, however. Now the stuff made for domestic audiences is gaining greater traction overseas, and it's worth considering what that means.
The Covid-19 pandemic has claimed nearly 2 million deaths worldwide and the psychological, sociologic, and economic devastation has been very real for a great many more. Yet in a rather fortuitous manner, it has been quite the boon for the K-industry.
Social distancing and various levels of lockdown have seen much of the planet's population (at least those of us not invading Capitol buildings) stuck inside our houses. And while there, if not drinking, working from home, or trying to keep the children from climbing up the walls, many have been watching Netflix.
Netflix is available in 190 countries and currently has approximately 195 million subscribers. And because of the ease with which accounts can be shared by multiple people, there are most likely well over 200 million people watching its content.
Netflix's plan was always to use Korean content as a way to increase Asian subscriptions to the on-demand video platform. This was rather an astute decision because in 2020's top ten TV series in various countries around the region, Korean shows absolutely dominate: Malaysia (nine out of 10 were Korean), Vietnam (eight), the Philippines (seven), Thailand (six), Hong Kong (six), and Japan (five).
From "Winter Sonata" in 2002 onwards, great swathes of Asia have clamored to watch Cinderella-like fables acted out by beautiful stars. Many of these dramas have focused on promoting a sense of purity, innocence, and Disney-esque romances as two lovers strive to find the most romantic spot they can to either hold hands or, when it gets really steamy, kiss each other on the lips.
For comparison, it's worth considering that when "Winter Sonata" was a huge hit in Asia, the west was watching "The Sopranos" (1999) and "The Wire" (2002). Korea's compressed modernity and turbo capitalism over the past couple of decades is very real.
While saccharine dramas such as "Winter Sonata" are still popular and superbly produced, the latest Korean product to hit the headlines for its international success is not likely to be mentioned by President Moon in any of his speeches.
The President gave shout-outs to BTS, BLACKPINK and a host of sports stars and also promised to support these artists in their efforts to promote Korea abroad, rightly pointing to the great happiness they have brought to many.
The Moon administration created a Hallyu department last year seeking to create an environment in which artists can flourish. It's a far cry from the blacklists of the previous regime, but one can only hope the old guys in suits don't get too involved in the creation of culture for international consumers: "How You Like That" is a mood; "I Seoul U" still doesn't make any sense.
The Hallyu department said it would be focusing largely on the e-sports industry and beauty products. However, just like everyone completely missed that Psy would be the one who would first secure a huge hit in the States, the big wigs in the department also seem to have missed the latest international success.
The show "Sweet Home" has dominated Netflix charts around the globe. It has ranked first in 11 countries thus far, including Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Qatar, and also ranked top 10 in parts of North America and Europe.
"Sweet Home" had previously been a very successful webtoon (an online vertical scrolling Korean comic) and this will likely have contributed to much of its success. But it's the content that most interests me.
This is not a syrupy and sentimentally sweet family drama demonstrating middle-class values or an English language pop song purchased from abroad: this is a Korean product that brings to light some of the country's most distressing and dark realities.
In the first 15 minutes of "Sweet Home," you see the clear theme of suicide, a young girl battling to be a pop star and not be forced into prostitution, "gapjil" (arrogant and authoritarian attitude or actions of people in powerful positions), alienation, class consciousness, over-eager Christians, psychotic mothers, girls smoking and swearing, and people living in tiny cramped conditions.
This is Korea as it is. This is critical realism.
"Sweet Home" highlights the facts of Korean society rather than the constructed product created for export. It's realistic in that it exposes the great many flaws and troubles that afflict the citizens.
This is the spider with the web included, and constructed by the spider for other spiders having to deal with the same challenges of that same web.
Like the best-selling book, "Kim Ji-young, Born 1982," which highlighted the androcentric nature of Korean society and the Sisyphean battle many women here face, some of the latest things out of Korea to be successful abroad aren't self-congratulatory or part of a collective celebration. They are real reflections of the lives of Koreans.
Perhaps, in a weird way that was what Psy got right with "Gangnam Style": it was a critique of the rich and entitled people that inhabit the capital's trendiest neighborhood.
There are of course countless other examples which I have no doubt forgotten to mention, but the change in how the Korean story is told by Koreans to people overseas is becoming more nuanced and more real in places, and it's fascinating to observe it taking place.
Will this critical realism be what characterizes the new wave of Hallyu? We can only wait and see…while we're stuck at home watching Netflix.
Dr. David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean studies and is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University. He discusses the week's hottest issues on TBS eFM (101.3 FM) on "Life Abroad" live every Thursday from 9:35 a.m. to 10 a.m.
