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Though English by birth, I have spent considerable time in France, and have worked in Australia and Malaysia as well as Korea.
One thing that makes living here rather different to living in the other countries is how strong a grip Korea exerts, how powerfully it engages the minds of its foreign residents. (I should clarify here: I am writing of "Western" residents, I cannot speak for brides and manual workers from developing nations.) Indeed, when two foreigners meet in Korea, chances are good that their topic of conversation will be analysis of their host nation.
However, there has been, over the years, a colossal change in the attitudes expressed during these conversations.
I first visited Korea in 1989. The mentality of the small expatriate community back then was almost that of a community under siege. The conversational topic was predictable: What a rough, unfriendly, unpleasant place Korea was to reside in.
The diplomatic community called it a "hardship posting." Beyond hamburgers, sushi and jajjangmyeon, foreign cuisine was unknown. Barely anyone spoke English. Immigration officials made clear that foreigners were unwelcome. Koreans were aggressive: it was common to be jostled or bumped in the street.
Korean women with foreign men were the target of snarled abuse. An English friend planning to marry a local told me how, when the latter's mother heard that she was going to wed a foreigner, suggested the two of them drink weed-killer. An English language newspaper's essay contest was won by a lady whose topic was why mixed race children made her uncomfortable.
Foreigners could not own land. Overseas investment in Korean companies was unwanted. Exports were "good," imports "bad." Some parking lots refused entry to foreign cars, and a group of young Koreans, the "Orange Tribe," who had the temerity buy foreign brands, were savaged in the media. Above all was a prevalent attitude that foreigners were responsible for Korea's historical woes, wished Korea ill, and were untrustworthy.
When I relocated here in 1998, things were different. By then, Koreans themselves had been free to travel overseas for a decade. Public manners had improved. Much distrust of foreigners had evaporated; there was a national mania to learn English. The "IMF Crisis" had forced open the doors for overseas companies and raised investment ceilings. Foreign products and cuisine were increasingly available; foreign firms were investing heavily.
All this was reflected in expatriate conversations. The moaning and whining had ameliorated; people seemed to genuinely want to help Korea overcome its financial crisis. The main topic was how much better things were getting and, over the last decade, this conversation has been amplified. Indeed, one thing that does not change in Korea is constant change.
English is now widespread. Foreign cuisine is ubiquitous. The taboo about foreign products has disappeared. Mixed marriages are frequent; being mixed race now is cool, rather than a handicap.
Foreign faces are increasingly visible in domestic media. Internet and cable TV mean global media access is easier than in the past, but there is also a wider choice of local English language outlets: A range of expatriate-focused magazines is available, and most of their content is lifestyle- and leisure-related.
Of course, Korea is not perfect. There is still an "us and them" mentality; nationalism remains strong. Anti-Americanism has waned, but anti-Japanism is waxing. It is fine for Korean companies to make big bucks, but if a foreign investor does, it may be accused of "excessive profits."
Foreign schools are too few and too expensive. English teachers still suffer at the hands of unscrupulous hagwon owners. And so on. But generally, things for aliens have improved: Koreans are today far more welcoming.
The foreign community also changed. In the past, most expatriates I met were not here by choice: they had been posted here ― they were here to earn money and get out or were simply losers or misfits who could not make it back home. Today's expatriates seem more respectable, more presentable; they are definitely happier to be here.
An ambassador's husband told me how excited their daughter was when she learned that they were being posted to Seoul. An Irish English teacher told me how her sister had given up a job in Spain and was relocating here after being bowled over by Korea on a visit. A pair of British teachers who were leaving, said they would be ambassadors for Korea when they returned home.
In a sign of this country's increased global prominence, another change in the foreign community is how much bigger and more diverse it is ― yet Korea continues to engage its collective mind. Happily, however, the attitude in its discourse has shifted from Koreaphobia to Koreaphilia.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
