Grief tourism and the laptop class

Courtesy of Jason Matthews

By David A. Tizzard

Modern education and meetings involve being sat at a computer, staring at a filtered version of yourself, listening to people talk, and trying hard not to look at your phone or open another browser. We are provided a slew of new words to describe this bum-numbing phenomenon: “untact,” hybrid, meta. It's a fourth industrial revolution of which we should all be proud. The signal of a new dawn heralded by the shots in our arms, the masks that cover our frowns, the QR codes on our phones, and a host of politicians that no-one really wants or even knows how they got here. It's the way we have to wear a mask to enter or exit a restaurant but can then sit there inside for hours talking, eating, and drinking with our faces free and blowing in the oral wind of others.

And it's working. Just look at the rising national GDP. Korea's is now $1.82 trillion. Samsung stocks were around the 50,000 won mark when the pandemic hit; they're now around 78,000 won. Their biologics department has gone from 400,000 won to 838,000 won. Naver's have risen from 180,000 won to nearly 400,000 won; Kakao from 30,000 won to 125,000 won. Companies are making serious bank during the pandemic. Capitalism is always looking for new markets to solve the inherent contradictions it contains and the pandemic has helped.

To be fair, we must give the companies their dues. After all, without them we wouldn't have the vaccines, the boosters, the emoticons, the delivery food and the streaming platforms. They provide services which are clearly in demand. They are also contributing to public health in valuable ways. But if the pandemic has been so insanely profitable for these companies, how likely are they to suggest that the current situation be brought to an end? If the lines on their profit charts have been rising so dramatically over the past couple of years, what will motivate them to suggest a change in circumstances which might negatively affect this growth? I mean, who actually asks for less money?

And what about those who have lost money during this? The people who work outside the major tech-based corporations: The people who own cafes, nightclubs, concert halls and wine bars. The people who we live next to when we're not on Zoom. Some have survived, but you only need to walk down the once bustling streets of many of Korea's districts to see dark windows, empty interiors, and bright red “for rent” signs all over the place.

Economic inequality and the wealth gap in Korea was already a problem before the pandemic. The middle-class, in part responsible for elements of the country's democratization, was small and shrinking pre-pandemic. In 2020, data suggested that said Korea had the second most unequal society in the OECD with a poverty rate (those whose income is less than half the median household income) at 17.4 percent. The top income earners were seeing their wealth rise; the lowest earners seeing their money slowly disappear. What will the statistics say once the dust has settled on this pandemic? I think we might be bearing witness to a huge transfer of wealth. Money is moving upwards, from citizens and the self-employed to large corporations and conglomerates that dominate the financial landscape by dint of their size.

The pandemic has brought out some of the best in people. It has shown us the dedication and selflessness of the medical and healthcare workers. It has demonstrated the exceptional fortitude of those tasked with delivering our yoga mats and Chinese noodles. We call these people essential workers because we cannot live without them. However, I fear that calling them essential places a further burden on them. It tells them that they cannot stop. They should not stop. Their efforts are for the greater good. They are essential.

But aren't we all essential? Aren't we all meant to be in this together somehow? Or is this the next inherent contradiction that will slowly unravel: that collectivist attitudes are incompatible with atomized digital lifestyles?

I've been incredibly thankful to have been living in Korea during the pandemic. My young family and children have felt safe and secure. The services, infrastructure and healthcare have been fantastic. I'm also part of the laptop class (I think). I work at universities and in media through computers and digital technology. In many ways, I've benefited from the pandemic by being able to work at home and thus save on commuting fees, lunches and buying new trousers and socks (the computer cameras thankfully don't go down that far). So maybe this class consciousness from me is grief tourism. Maybe I'm writing about other people's plights without really experiencing it or understanding it. Maybe. But I'm trying. And I hope more might try, too. Because otherwise we might be on Zoom for a long time to come yet.

Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies. 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. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.