Calculating Infinity

The wake of Kim's death

2012-01-01T12:23:00.001+09:00

Diplomat

2012-01-01T12:21:00.001+09:00

Next of Kim

2011-12-20T12:12:00.002+09:00

It’s thought to be a sign of getting old when a person of one’s own age assumes control of a country. In the wake of North Korean leader Kim Jong-il’s death, his youngest son Kim Jong-eun is apparently set to take the reins of the rusted nation. Jong-eun is believed, though no one is certain, to have been born in the same year I was. No one is eager to feel old, but I think him becoming a world leader has more to do with his country being extraordinary than me getting on.

Plus, it’s not like he did much to earn his recent promotion. In the words of the recently (and tragically) departed Christopher Hitchens, the concept of a hereditary leader makes about as much sense as hereditary physician, or engineer. There is no reason to believe Jong-eun is prepared to lead a country, even one as centralized as North Korea.

Since his father’s illness became grave over a year ago, the North Korean machine has scrambled to get Jong-eun some experience in seeing how the country is run. He has taken up his father’s pastimes of clapping at state functions and casting his vacant glare on factories and military installations across the country. The past year has allowed North Koreans to get used to the idea of their new leader, even if he’s not ready for his new job.

Jong-eun’s youth will be an obstacle for him, especially when coupled with his inexperience. Age matters in Korea. One almost never hears of a young person having authority over someone his or her senior. This is changing as South Korea becomes more meritocratic, but in the reactionary North, Jong-eun will have a tough time ordering around men and women old enough to be his grandparents.

If he’s shrewd and humble, he’ll be able to make the transition without much friction. If unfriendly factions of the People’s Assembly and military clash, and Jong-eun’s isn’t able to quell dissent, he might not last. But it borders on cliché to mention how long analysts have been predicting the collapse of North Korea. Many proclaimed the end of the DPRK after the death of the eternal lead Kim Il-sung in 1994.

This week has seen the end of a number of lives, some which will be more fondly remembered than others. The youngest Kim now takes the helm of a country history has left behind, one in desperate need of some kind of invigoration. For reasons unrelated to feelings of aging, I hope to outlive not only his rule, but the repressive apparatus he fronts.

On adoptions

2011-12-02T04:25:00.002+09:00

For Asia Sentinel

U.S.-South Korea ties

2011-11-10T03:28:00.000+09:00

For World Politics Review.

FTA debates

2011-11-05T05:37:00.002+09:00

South Korea's newly invigorated opposition resists free trade agreement with the U.S.

The changing nature of employment

2011-11-04T08:39:00.000+09:00

For Asia Sentinel.

The end of fishcake politics

2011-10-28T01:30:00.001+09:00

In Seoul

From Mongolia

2011-10-25T01:38:00.000+09:00

For YaleGlobal

Corruption

2011-10-19T00:26:00.000+09:00

Is an increasingly visible issue.

Rhodes Journalism Review

2011-10-14T05:47:00.002+09:00

I've contributed to this year's Rhodes Journalism Review with an article on changes in the South Korean media.

My latest

2011-10-14T04:45:00.000+09:00

From Asia Times Online

In Mongolia

2011-09-15T17:43:00.001+09:00

On a reporting trip to Mongolia. Here's a piece I did for the Diplomat.

Free lunches for all

2011-09-15T17:41:00.001+09:00

Travelling and didn't post this piece on the recent school lunches referendum in Seoul.

Climate change in South Korea

2011-08-08T19:44:00.002+09:00

The climate is changing and not in good ways, as I discuss in this piece for Asia Sentinel.

Asia Times

2011-07-20T22:43:00.000+09:00

Online

From the Muslim south of Thailand

2011-07-13T23:33:00.000+09:00

For New Matilda.

Tensions rising

2011-06-26T22:58:00.000+09:00

As described for Asia Sentinel.

More on beefing students

2011-06-20T21:56:00.001+09:00

For the Diplomat.

Asia Sentinel

2011-06-17T21:41:00.000+09:00

Student protests to start the summer!

YaleGobal

2011-06-17T21:40:00.001+09:00

A piece on changes in South Korea for YaleGlobal online.

On the topic of foreign marriage

2011-06-04T23:28:00.001+09:00

Demographic growing pains in rural South Korea.

By-elections for the Diplomat

2011-05-08T14:13:00.002+09:00

South Korean voters are turning away from the Lee Myung-bak government, according to the results of recent by-elections.

Build and destroy

2011-04-27T23:23:00.007+09:00

When a building is in the midst of construction in Korea, a striped blanket is hung around the perimeter to contain dust. The blanket appears soft and flimsy. Its colors are dull and feminine. The coziness of a blanket is oddly matched with the rubble and twisted metal of the freshly demolished building. It’s always the same sheet at construction sites all over.

When we moved to this area of Seoul, there was constant construction. We live near a broad point of intersection between three streets. One direction leads to a bustling area full of students and the enthusiasm of young life. Going south leads through a standard commercial area and towards the Han river, the broad body of water that squiggles through Seoul, separating the city into two unequal parts. On our side, the road leads away from the core, to the comparative quiet of the city’s outskirts.

Two years in, the construction has changed, but is still ongoing.

Government construction projects have been underway since before we moved in. A new subway line was recently opened at the nearby station and a huge area has been under construction since before we moved here, almost two years ago. Now a commercial building at the edge the intersection has been gutted and is being rebuilt.

I doubt anyone was sad to see this particular building go. It was of the typical appearance for commercial units in Seoul with a plain exterior, originally a white that has long since been turned a pasty grey by dust and pollution. Over that bland base, multicolored signboards stood announcing the businesses inside: cheap restaurants, internet cafes or clothing stores. Once the building is rebuilt it will likely contain the same things but in newer, revamped form. The lights will shine brighter and the surfaces will be cleaner.

The process is more repackaging than reinvention. It’s called jae gae bal in Korean: urban redevelopment, tearing down old buildings and replacing them with new ones. The rents then go up; those who can’t afford to stay are forced to relocate some cheaper place on the city’s periphery.

And through jae gae bal comes a spike in revenue. When it comes to buildings to Korea, ‘new’ is synonymous with ‘good’. Old buildings are considered unattractive and that unattractiveness is reflected in the prices prospective tenants are willing to pay to live there.

As the ugly sheet hides the ruins inside, the gleam of the new building glosses over the past.

Blossom

2011-04-20T20:49:00.003+09:00

Cherry blossoms are a burst of beauty in an otherwise plain city. Seasonal tourists come to view flowers in Yeouido, Seoul’s financial center, which happens to be bisected by a tree-lined park. In the shadow of glass and concrete towers, the flowers crowd the branches of trees that are bare for much of the year. Before long, petals blanket the ground and are trampled by workers on their way to the office.

Spring and autumn have become short in Korea, say those who have been around a while. The intervals of pleasant, mild weather are shorter and shorter windows between the hot, wet summer and the frigid winter. It is fitting in a country of such determination and focus that moderation be phased out by extremity.

Many will come and, shoulder to shoulder with others, pose for pictures to commemorate their brush with beauty.

Polarization under Lee

2011-04-08T23:34:00.002+09:00

A Hankyoreh study has substantiated what many in South Korea feel to be the new reality of life in the country. Under the administration of President Lee Myung-bak, corporate tax cuts have created massive profits for conglomerates while job growth has lagged far behind. The deliberately undervalued currency helps export firms sell their goods abroad but squeezes family budgets by inflating the prices of consumer goods.

I'm traveling tomorrow to Gimhae hoping to gain insight into what may be a precursor for the next national election. Gimhae, along with three other traditional GNP strongholds will hold parliamentary by-elections on April 27. Many experts predict a turn against the Lee regime brought on by the growing class divide.

Tsunami diplomacy

2011-04-03T23:11:00.000+09:00

Did a piece for GlobalPost on Korea and Japan's latest beef.

Post-earthquake in Japan

2011-03-22T15:48:00.000+09:00

In his enthralling essay Sun and Steel, the great Japanese writer Yukio Mishima tells of his evolution from adolescence to maturity. Mishima was a fierce patriot with a fanatical affection for his country.

He recounts, “Only through the group, I realised — through sharing the suffering of the group — could the body reach that height of existence that the individual alone could never attain.”

The recent earthquake in Japan has brought Japanese society great collective suffering. It is the latest instance of tragedy in Japan’s history. In the disaster’s most quoted sound bite, the Prime Minister called the earthquake and resultant nuclear emergency the worst crisis for Japan since World War II. Through the anguish brought by that war, Japan worked to create one of the modern world’s most impressive societies.

Nations show an intimate side of themselves in times of trouble and Japan has proved an inspiring example. While seeking to restore some sense of order, to meet people’s basic needs in a time of calamity, the observing world can’t help but be impressed with the composure of suffering Japanese.

Earthquakes and other natural disasters don’t care who you are; everyone is subject to their wrath and cooperation becomes essential.

Various press outlets have praised both the foresight and subsequent resolve of the Japan’s people. The earthquake came as a shock, but buildings in Japan are generally constructed to mitigate their effects. In a less prepared country, it would have been much worse. Press coverage has shown residents patiently waiting in lines for their allotted share of food, water or blankets.

South Korean television broadcast an elderly Japanese woman who, after being rescued from a flood stricken area, sincerely apologized for being an inconvenience to emergency workers.

In the western press we are told that Japan has lost its ambition. It is no longer the forward-bound juggernaut that was expected to take over the world. It is said, with more than a hint of condescension, to have accepted the limits of an anemic economy and resigned to second tier status.

The Tokyo stock market has been slumping for years and the annual economic growth rate sits around one percent. Last year it was overtaken by China as the world’s second largest economy. Our economic analysis has come to rely almost entirely on large-scale figures, those that indicate the prosperity of the top while neglecting reality for regular people. As one example, the most recent economic crisis was pronounced over as Wall Street earnings rebounded and unemployment remained unacceptably high.

This tendency to fixate on the top skews the reality of Japan. The country’s excellence in providing its citizens with peaceful, stable lives is reported far less often. Japan’s levels of poverty remain low. Literacy, access to health and education are nearly universal. Life expectancy continues to increase.

Visitors’ recollections from Japan, mine included, depict a clean, prosperous country. There are no obvious signs of poverty. The people are stunningly well mannered. There is none of the yelling into mobile phones or shoving on the subway common in other countries in the region. Personal space is respected. People don’t throw garbage on the street.

Daily life in the country, and the response to the earthquake, seem to aspire to the truth of the Mishima quotation: the group bringing inimitable meaning to the existence of the individual.

Japan’s politics has for years been characterized by infighting and a revolving door of leaders who fail to keep promises or inspire the population. Japan is linguistically and ethnically cohesive and in the past has united quickly in times of difficulty.

This is undoubtedly a time of immense, collective challenge. Don’t be surprised if through this suffering, Japan reaches new heights that cannot be found through selfishness.

Crackdown

2011-03-02T20:18:00.005+09:00

Migrants' Trade Union President Michel Catuira faces possible deportation after having his visa cancelled by the South Korean government. It appears that he, like other union leaders in the past, is being targeted for his organizing activities.

I interviewed Catuira in September for an article ahead of November's G20 Summit. He has done a lot to bring attention to the challenges faced by migrants in South Korea.

He told me by phone today he is waiting to hear the results of a legal appeal. There will be a rally in front of Seoul immigration this Friday. More on this case as it develops.

Korean lessons for Egypt

2011-02-18T10:14:00.002+09:00

I've been watching the events in Egypt and other countries struggling to break the yoke of dictatorship with a near obsessive interest. It made me think of Korea's protest-beaten path to democracy. I wrote a short column of comparison for today's Joongang Ilbo.

Chang Ha-joon

2011-02-16T20:00:00.004+09:00

South Korea’s composure makes it amenable to the provision of social welfare. With its unilingual, ethnically harmonious population and large middle class, governments in the past have typically been able to pass measures meant to aid lower income households.

The past decade or so has seen a general shift to the right in the country’s politics. Social welfare has become a major issue. The ruling Grand National Party advocates only poorer classes having access to the benefits of a welfare state. South Korea’s most internationally renowned economist, Cambridge University professor and critic of global capitalism Chang Ha-joon, provides some fresh insight on this topic in an interview in today’s Joongang Daily.

In particular, his argument against the targeted provision of welfare is sensible and persuasive. Many in South Korea disagree with Professor Chang’s arguments, but no clear-minded observer could dispute his concluding thought: the old models have failed and we need new ideas.

With an election to be held in 2013, South Korean president Lee Myung-bak will soon find himself in lame duck territory (this English expression is commonly used in Korean language media and conversation). That election will be pivotal in determining Korea’s continued ability to prosper in a competitive global economy and the issues discussed by Professor Chang are expected to be among the most important to voters.

So you wanna shoot me?

2011-02-08T11:34:00.006+09:00

“I’m going to shoot you tonight.”

Korean friends often say this to each other, but it’s not a threat of violence; it’s an offer to buy dinner or drinks.

It’s customary for one person to pay the bill when out in groups. The Korean verb to shoot (쏘다) is an expression used to mean one person picking up the tab. To shoot is to treat. ‘Bullets’ (총알) are slang for money.

I’ve always thought that this kind of expression could only be tastefully used in a country with almost no actual gun violence. Quips about being shot carry little humor in countries with high instances of street or political violence. Koreans can joke about shooting each other because they'll almost certainly never be shot in the real way.

After a violent clash in the Arabian Sea, a South Korean ship captain lays in critical condition. He sustained gun shot wounds; it came out in the Korean press yesterday that one of the removed bullets came from a Korean Navy commando’s gun. One Korean inadvertently shot another. Koreans were killed in the Yellow Sea in November in an artillery exchange with North Korea.

Language reflects changes in thought. Maybe now isn’t the best time to joke about bullets. Will encroach of violence change the vernacular?

New year

2011-02-05T16:37:00.005+09:00

Seoul is unusually quiet this week. Many of the city’s residents have left for the provinces to celebrate lunar New Year with family. The bitter cold of winter ceded in time for the five-day holiday.

And Truthdig has published a piece of mine about the upcoming trial of five Somali men who were involved in the hijacking of a South Korean ship. The trial is scheduled to move along after the holiday.

Losing one's lunch

2011-01-08T17:05:00.000+09:00

A piece on South Korea's rightward turn for GlobalPost.

GlobalPost

2010-12-29T21:37:00.002+09:00

A visit to Gimpo for GlobalPost.

Stranded in the suburbs

2010-12-24T09:57:00.002+09:00

I'm continuing to follow the evacuated residents of Yeonpyeong Island for the Star.

Pics and more Truthdig

2010-12-07T22:34:00.001+09:00

I also wrote a piece for Truthdig while on Yeonpyeong. They used a few of my pics; here are a few more.

The island's main commercial street, which happened to sustain the most damage of anywhere I saw there.

Some more busted buildings.

Oh Jeong-oak was washing the dishes that had been left in her sink since the attack. She was dignified and very courteous. She answered all my questions politely and wished me well at the end of our conversation.

Ahn Hae-seong had stayed behind ever since the attack. He was gathering wood and fixing his boiler. He was so helpful he even offered to pose for me.

Yeonpyeong

2010-12-06T14:34:00.000+09:00

I spent this past weekend on the bombed out island reporting for the Star.

Words from the master

2010-11-26T10:35:00.000+09:00

If you're at all interested in the Koreas, anything written by Brian Myers is essential reading. Fluent in Korean, his analysis of North Korean propaganda is some of the most clear-eyed and enlightening work on the subject. He is that rare breed of scholar who is able to write just as effectively for a specialized or general audience; his articles in the mainstream press are as incisive as his academic work.

But no, I'm not his publicist. I asked him for an interview when researching my Truthdig piece and he graciously agreed. I could of course only include a small portion of what he said. I thought I'd post the full transcript since it's all more than worth reading.

1) You specialize in propaganda. What kind of propaganda spin is this situation getting in North Korea?

As might be expected, the North Korean media is claiming that it was only striking back against artillery from the South. Also, and perhaps more interestingly, the KCNA released photographs on the 22nd, the day before the attack, of Kim Jong Il and Kim Jong Un visiting the military facilities in the same region from which the North's artillery was fired. The North has also broadcast some characteristically stilted and rehearsed-looking "man in the street" interviews in which citizens condemn the South for its provocative exercises and express their resolve to punish any violations of NK territory. On the other hand, it's not exactly dominating NK propaganda as far as I can see. While the North can exploit the incident as a military victory over the Yankee puppets, the deaths of civilians is a bit problematic. The North's mission is to free the Southern masses from the Yankee yoke after all. The greater propaganda value of the incident lies in the tension that will result from it.

2) If the North is explaining their opening fire by claiming self-defence, will that fly in North Korea? Do you imagine that claim is persuasive to most North Koreans?

I think it will be persuasive to most. The fact that military exercises were being conducted in the South at that time will lend credence to the North's claim that its territory was violated. We need to keep in mind that the average North Korean is psychologically invested in the system, and wants to believe what he is told. He also desperately wants something to be proud of; it's a basic human need. MInd you, even in the South there will be people parroting the North's line in this regard.

3) Is it possible this is contrived to get the youngest Kim some military experience on his resume before he takes power?

It is possible and indeed likely that these considerations played a role; the publication on the 22nd of photographs of Kim and son visiting military bases in the area would certainly seem to confirm an intention to play up his role in things. But I don't like the current Western journalist habit of attributing NK's every show of belligerence to the succession dynamic. It implies that things will change in the future once Kim Jong Un is settled in. I don't consider that likely; when you are a military first state you have to keep flexing your muscles on the world stage.

4) What happens if the U.S and South Korea make threats then do nothing again? When does that pattern of action become untenable?

I think that pattern has already become untenable. If the US and South Korea cannot do anything for fear of Seoul coming under attack, and are foolish enough to make this line of reasoning public, then a future "provocation" is merely a matter of time. A lot will depend on the South Korean public's reaction. The North is sensitive enough to South Korean public opinion not to want to alienate it entirely. If the left-wing here remains critical of North Korea, and the country as a whole rallies around President Lee, the regime in Pyongyang might well think twice before doing something like this again. But I fear that as the initial shock wears off, criticism will focus on President Lee's allegedly hardline policy towards Pyongyang, as happened after the Cheonan sinking. In that case, the North will draw the logical conclusion that it has nothing to lose and everything to gain by escalating its acts of aggression. At the very least it can hope thereby to bring about a return to an appeasement minded left-wing administration in Seoul.

My latest dig for truth

2010-11-26T09:06:00.001+09:00

The fine folks at Truthdig have welcomed me back.

Star 2.0

2010-11-25T14:48:00.000+09:00

Another "Special to the Star"

The Guardian was all like, "hey, can you do this?"

2010-11-25T14:47:00.001+09:00

I was like "yea."

G20 on Truthdig

2010-11-15T23:05:00.000+09:00

My G20 report has been published on one of my favorite sites, Truthdig.com

Star

2010-11-10T08:25:00.000+09:00

My piece from my hometown's biggest daily.

It has begun

2010-11-08T14:39:00.000+09:00

In front of Seoul city hall and in the shadow of a several-story portrait of figure skating star Kim Yu-na, the country’s most radical labor union staged a rally in advance of the G20 Summit, which will take place in Seoul this week.

The Korean Confederation of Trade Unions was the main organizer. It’s leading a coalition of labor and civic groups protesting the G20. They say the body of the twenty most advanced economies spreads the kind of failed neo-liberal policies that caused the most recent economic crisis.

Beneath the picture of the figure skater was a stage flanked on each side by huge, painted model workers, shiny and embossed, like something out of a cultural revolution-era Mao poster. The figure on the right hand side was a man displaying protest slogans, on the left a woman holding a book of labor laws. From the stage where I stood, the audience was a sea of dark colored clothing and synchronized fists.

The voices of the speakers boomed, echoing through Seoul’s district of business and government. They used the most formal strains of the Korean language voiced in guttural thrusts. They mixed outrage and formality.

As I discussed with some NGO volunteers who introduced themselves as socialists, it’s tough to be a leftist in Korea. Notions of financial, professional and educational excellence dominate South Korean society, and a leftist orientation doesn’t help attain any of them. Leftist thought also relies on class-consciousness. Very few South Koreans are eager to publicly identify as members of the poor or lower classes.

The continued relevance of trade unions in Korea is remarkable to me, since in North America organized labor has become a kind of anachronistic joke. An autoworker told me their union gets smaller every year, but even so, I couldn't imagine any of North America’s major cities being paralyzed on a Sunday by militant workers.

The protest was apparently large and threatening enough to warrant an army of riot police. Mostly fresh-faced lads in their early twenties completing their mandatory military service, they moved in groups behind a leader holding a flag, making them look like high school kids on a field trip. The soldiers wore sleek pads, making lumpy, tentative movements that collectively resembled those of a peewee football team heading out for the season’s first game.

I was told that KCTU had negotiated with the Seoul city government for permission to hold the rally outside of City Hall, but the government had refused to allow protestors to march from there to the bell at Jonggak. The word at the protest was that union members planned to go ahead with the march anyway, clashes with police notwithstanding.

As the rally approached its five o’clock end time, I noticed the multitude of youthful riot cops had hemmed in the square, in some places with lines of parked buses and battering rams. There were rumors of imminent violence.

I heard the final speaker yell “Jin gun habsida!” Let’s march.

But there would be little violence. Protesters mostly stayed within the sectioned-off area, dancing and beating traditional Korean drums in front of the police. The week of protest has begun.

"MB" refers to South Korean President Lee Myung-bak

Three fat bears

2010-11-03T13:43:00.000+09:00

According to conservative Korean newspapers, a popular Korean children’s song has been turned into political satire on a wall in the North Korean capital.

The song’s title (곰세마리) translates as Three Bears; it tells the story of a happy family who live in one house. Each short verse is dedicated to one of the family members: father, mother and baby. The lyrics describe each bear with an adjective: father is fat, mother is thin and baby is cute.

The renegade North Korean street artist rewrote the lyrics with the names of the three members of North Korea’s hereditary succession, but described them as fat or greedy. It’s an obvious poke at the Kim dynasty’s corruption and illegitimacy.

Pyongyang is said to have almost no electricity; the writing was presumably done under the cover of night.

It speaks to the absurdity of totalitarianism that should this brave writer ever be found by authorities, he or she will almost certainly be put to a violent death for the crime of writing a joke about bears. At the same time, let observers be heartened that the regime hasn’t managed to eradicate its subjects’ senses of humor and irony.

R.I.P. Park Chung-hee

2010-10-26T16:50:00.001+09:00

With his legacy a frequent topic of discussion nowadays, today is the 31st anniversary of Park Chung-hee's assassination. The Joong-ang Daily has an intriguing retrospective in today's paper.

Away from the sun

2010-10-25T15:36:00.000+09:00

Yeosu is about as far south as one can go in South Korea. The town is tiny and sits on an uneven coast. Nothing is smooth; Yeosu's ground is composed of sharp hills and the shoreline is jagged. Wetness hung in the air on Sunday morning, creating an earthen sky that darkened the ground and clashed with the garishly colored signs of restaurants and singing rooms.

The previous night the town had been a kind of hub of local activity: the area at the coast was full of families out late, children eating ice cream and running around while their parents chatted in groups.

As a subtle rain fell on Sunday afternoon, we caught the train back north to Seoul, the country’s genuine hub.

The capital is the center of Korea almost to a fault; talent from the provinces all bleeds into Seoul creating an unevenness of congestion on one hand and desertion on the other. At the end of the weekend, people in places like Yeosu were joining the country’s transportation arteries to be taken back to the productive north.

I sat facing a broad window in the train’s dining car. We had booked our tickets late; only overflow space was available, but we were able to stake out a prime spot since we joined the upcountry trek early, at the base of the peninsula. The six-hour ride would take us almost the full length of the country.

The noise level and the train’s density increased with every stop.

The sun gleamed as we reached north Jeolla province, turning the sky blue and glinting through the coarse green vegetation, which was showing early signs of turning with the season. The area is the country’s most productive agricultural region; its lack of industry makes it crisp. It has few urban centers; we passed some villages set into mountain. They seemed isolated and content, any cry of ambition inaudible from distance.

On getting to the urbanized area around Jeonju, the sun retained its glow but began to hang low. Its hue drew denser north of Daejeon where it struggled to stay above the factories and apartment buildings that competed for the horizon.

The dining car became a shoulder-to-shoulder squeeze; the snack bar ran out of some items. Passengers stepped on each other’s feet while circulating. Yells came from the karaoke stalls; children whined from discomfort.

When we finally pulled into Seoul, there was no sun; it was overpowered by neon and fluorescent. The train emptied like a balloon being punctured. We all shuffled beneath pale light and started the journey’s next phase.

Kimchi or KOSPI

2010-10-12T16:57:00.000+09:00

Last week the Korean press served up one of its regular coincidences and was characteristically negligent of the irony.

All week there were stories of cabbage, a staple used to make the national dish kimchi, being sold at sky-high prices. Late summer rains cut supply; demand is constant. Prices were driven to twice their normal levels. All Koreans (yes, all) eat kimchi a few times a day, but this kind of price spike is disproportionately hard on the poor.

Meanwhile, there were giddy stories celebrating the success of the KOSPI, the country's stock market. It hit record highs as foreign investors came to consider Korea a safe market for investment.

It's a pretty potent image of polarization: regular folk lined up to buy cabbage before the market price can shoot up anymore and bloated gains from an increasingly financialized economy. Those who produce nothing getting a boost, those vulnerable to scarcity struggling.

And no one seemed to notice.

Busan

2010-10-06T14:51:00.000+09:00

Busan is built into a set of mountains in the Korean peninsula’s southwest corner. It is of one of the busiest ports in the world and South Korea’s second largest city. It is best known for blending urbanity and beach along its main stretch. Next week, Busan will host its international film festival and be visited by film stars and admirers.

The picturesque skyline sits above the famous Haeundae beach. Like everywhere else in this country, it is covered with construction sites. When finished, these buildings will be some of the most expensive real estate in Asia.

Most domestic visitors arrive in Busan after riding the quick and comfortable KTX rail line, which connects Seoul to Busan in less than three hours. Near the station is a street officially called Choryang Shopping Street for Foreigners, but goes in conversation by its original name, Texas. It got that moniker after it became a destination for American soldiers stationed nearby. That base is now closed and there aren’t many Westerners around. Signs written in Cyrillic are now common and the street and its environs now cater to the Russians who live and work here. They run bars and restaurants and work in shipping.

I’m invited in to a cavernous little bar by Svetlana, a forty-five year old woman from Russia’s far east. She is short and stout and seems happy to have someone to chat to. Her affection for alcohol and cigarettes is shown in the sagging, bulbous state of her face, which she has covered with makeup. She is fully comfortable using neither English nor Korean so we speak a wobbly mix of the two.

While there are no customers in the early afternoon when I visit, she says the place is patronized by a mix of Korean and visiting Russian and Japanese businessmen. When I ask her how business is going she says it is “small.” The bar is cramped and has no windows. The floors are linoleum colored a muddy pink and matched by the walls and furniture. She brings me a beer and pours herself red wine from a large, barrel shaped bottle. She lays out a platter of cheese, bread and roe that she says will go well with vodka.

When we get to occupations, she says she teaches Russian language but becomes noticeably uncomfortable when I ask where and to whom. She does say that her students are proficient. I’m unaware of any demand to study Russian in South Korea.

Svetlana has lived in the city for three years, but as Russians are ineligible for most work permits, she is a perpetual tourist; every three months she must she must make a visa run back to Russia where she has her passport stamped and is then able to return. She isn’t sure how long she’d like to remain in Busan. She jokes about always being able to spot Russians when abroad because in crowds they’re the only people who never smile.

Her employer at this bar is an elderly Korean woman who has lived in Busan her whole life. She comes in smoking and complaining about the midday heat. She is dressed in the like fabric of garish colors common for Korean women of her age. She also has a visage of thick makeup highlighted by thick, painted on eyebrows. Her and Svetlana argue over whether or not to turn on the fan. Theirs seems an odd bond that is neither personal nor professional.

Though there are thousands of Russians and Chinese living and working (illegally) in South Korea, the government denies them visas. It claims that Russia and China are both developed enough that their citizens shouldn't need to emigrate to find work. Russians like Svetlana hang on at the margins in city centers.

Marx and ajumma

2010-09-26T12:31:00.000+09:00

In a Chomsky essay I came across a quote from Marx that made me think of the ladies who clean the subway I ride and refill my kimchi at the restaurants where I have lunch.

According to Marx, wage labor “mutilates the worker into a fragment of a human being, degrades him to become a mere appurtenance of the machine, makes his work such a torment that its essential meaning is destroyed;”

This led me to think of those who are known in Korea as ajumma. The word translates as middle-aged women. In Korea it’s common to address someone based on his or her age and gender, but the ubiquitous ajumma is more than an age or gender group in Korea: it’s a kind of identity. Ajumma are often generalized to be surly, aggressive and have a distinct resolve and strength of character. (My personal dealings with them have been almost invariably pleasant).

Many can be found at work cleaning subway stations in Seoul. For a system used by ten million people every day, Seoul’s subway is remarkably clean. It literally glistens. It’s a huge challenge to keep a place like that clean all the time; the reason is simple: hard work.

In reading Marx, one would think that their work (specifically tedious, physical work) would erode their soul and will to live, but it seems just the opposite is true. They work diligently in clean, well-coordinated outfits. They seem to take their work seriously and are determined to do a thorough job. On a recent subway trip I saw a female custodian pick up a clump of human hair with her bare hand.

My theory on why Seoul’s subway system shines and Toronto’s is a toilet is this: ajumma are willing to work for measly wages. I don’t know how much they earn to buff the floors of subway stations, but I expect that it isn’t much. I’ve been told that ajumma who work in restaurants are typically paid something like 1.2 million Korean won (about a thousand bucks) a month for around 60 hours of work a week. There is a minimum wage in Korea, but the walls are high and the government far away. Employers abuse workers all the time. Korean society is corrupt; business owners sometimes have wink and nod agreements with police and most Koreans would rather not complain publicly and draw attention to themselves, especially on an embarrassing topic like one’s pauper-like wages.

In Toronto and other Western cities, to have someone clean a subway station you’d have to pay them a higher wage. As far as I know, custodial staff in transit stations in Canada are unionized and make decent money. So the city can’t afford to have a few people in each station working at useful but unnecessary tasks like making sure the the cars are clean at all times of day. And from what I know of the Westerners who toil in the same jobs as ajumma, they don’t tend to be all that positive about it. In general, people who end up in crappy jobs in the West don’t hide the fact that they’re unhappy with their station in life and can share their displeasure with people they come across.

In Korea, where hard work is perhaps the highest national virtue, the ajumma seem content, maybe even proud, to be contributing to the society they live in. What they do isn’t glamorous, but it’s valuable. In the West, there doesn't seem to be that same drive to make whatever contribution one is capable of making. Work doesn’t make these women fragments of human beings; it makes them closer to whole.

So the moral of the story is: don’t read Marx to understand ajumma. And that work can benefit the human psyche.

Taxi think tank

2010-09-19T10:12:00.000+09:00

On my way to the Korean Confederation of Trade Unions’ offices, my cab driver told me that Korea needs a strong leader, like Park Chung-hee, the military dictator who ruled from the early sixties until late seventies. Central Seoul at midday was clogged with traffic as usual; we fell into political chitchat.

His country has become a pushover, he said.

He went on to speculate that the March sinking of South Korea’s Cheonan warship, apparently by a North Korean missile, wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for liberal president Kim Dae-jung’s Sunshine Policy, a program of engagement with the North. A lynchpin of Park’s heavy-handed rule and curtailing of rights was the chance of North Korean attack.

The driver was happy with current president Lee Myung-bak, who he feels is taking the country back where it should be.

It’s ironic that I was going to the Union’s offices to research an essay on this very topic, and that these kinds of views are somewhat common in the country. They’re also being reflected in the halls of power.

South Korea’s highest levels of economic growth were seen under Park Chung-hee. This set a precedent for a ruling style that stymies rights to facilitate economic development; it’s akin to the freedom-for-wealth government-citizen exchange model now being executed in China.

There are parallels between Park’s rule and the direction being taken by the current administration. Much more on them later.

NOW

2010-09-17T11:53:00.000+09:00

Here's a piece of mine from Toronto's NOW Magazine on the Seoul government's campaign ahead of the G20.

Endless in Iraq

2010-09-03T11:20:00.000+09:00

Not just the combat phase, but the occupation itself should be ended

When the war on Iraq started in 2003, I was a second year university student. I loathed the new war but I was beginning to appreciate nuance.

I listened to my Harvard-reared international relations professor argue that while there would be teething, that though the next few years may be rough, eight or ten years from now it was overwhelmingly likely Iraqis would feel a significant improvement in freedom, security and general quality of life. The Saddam clan was gone and Iraqis could begin working, however slowly, toward real self-determination.

I was persuaded. Unlike most prognostications, it wasn’t just a projection, an expectation that things would continue as they were. It seemed a weighted, realistic expectation. It was the kind of unconventional but safe stance that would allow me to seem original among the ‘no blood for oil’ crowd.

For all desired nuance and hope, it’s nearly unbelievable to now see that it hasn’t even come close to being true. I haven’t lived under war or dictatorship so I won’t compare their relative merits, but it’s obvious that no large improvement has been visited upon Iraqis.

Like almost everyone else, I stopped paying close attention to the imperial fiasco in Mesopotamia after a few years. There seemed little to follow besides a Groundhog Day of violence, mutual mistrust, a stubborn lack of bonding between invaders and locals. It got too disenchanting to follow a conflict whose composure bore such scant resemblance to the mission the public and press bought into.

It’s ludicrous to claim that the mess is over. More than 50,000 American troops will remain in Iraq doing basically the same things they were doing before August 31.

By ending the ‘war’, Obama is looking to tell Americans that one crisis can be struck from the list. He, with good reason, says problems at home should take precedence. We asked for the wrong thing: Obama may have ended the ‘war’, but we should have demanded an end to the ‘occupation’. As noted, Obama is skilled in the nuance I longed for as an undergraduate. Choosing to end the ‘war’ but continue the occupation is a false milestone.

It’s tired to rerun the conspiracy theories of the real reason for invasion. Oil? Weapons? “Genuine moral revulsion” as that same professor later wrote in his book? Maybe this supposed end can give rise to reflection that will give the whole misadventure a kind of practical clarity it has lacked since the beginning.

We may never know the real reasons the occupation started, but it’s possible at this moment to know that it isn’t actually over.

My writing and not my writing

2010-08-30T11:58:00.000+09:00

A piece I wrote was published in today's Joongang daily. I am not responsible for the brutally unsexy title and don't know why they decided to post it twice.

R.I.P Tony Judt

2010-08-09T14:21:00.000+09:00

A week after I published a review of his work, Tony Judt has passed away. He succumbed to the effects of Lou Gehrig's disease at the age of 62 in a New York hospital.

Long live his legacy.

Ceasefire

2010-08-03T08:58:00.000+09:00

I recently wrote a review for Ceasefire magazine

“We know what things cost, but have no idea what they are worth,” Tony Judt writes in the introduction to his latest work, Ill Fares the Land. Judt is one of the English-speaking world’s most accomplished academics, and he shamelessly identifies with the waning Left. His latest book is an impassioned plea to change the way we live, to broaden the limits of public conversation.

Peace beneath the din

2010-07-19T11:52:00.000+09:00

Seoul is one of the densest places in the world. While density creates the city’s busy atmosphere, which is the lifeblood of its allure, it can be grating or stressful. Noise doesn't sooth the human psyche. Life in a city of its size is a challenge.

When I decided to move into my apartment, in one of Seoul’s noisiest areas, I envisioned myself at a perch observing a seething city. A year later, as the city seethes beneath, I wish it would shut up.

I’ve proved unable to grow used to the noise; I’m not sure that’s possible. It can be coped with or ignored. There is a constant inflow of noise in my apartment. It’s mostly the engines of cars and trucks. There are loud conversations between people on the street below. When I spent my first summer here, I grew somewhat accustomed to it. In my mind it gradually became quieter. It became less intrusive, easier to maneuver around. It demanded less and less attention as time went on. Eventually it almost wasn’t there. During the winter I was able to keep the windows closed which cut the noise significantly. As the weather has become warm again, I’ve reopened the windows; with the breeze comes noise.

Similar to how I once sat on the porch of my family’s home, bored with the quiet, I now think fondly of the peace of Canada. Toronto is a grey, densely urbanized city by Canadian standards. It’s something like Eden compared to Seoul. On my recent visit home I grew infatuated with the greenery. The green of the trees was most beautiful when viewed next to the rich blue sky. The sky in Seoul, and much of East Asia, isn’t really blue, but a sort of confused grey. The summer sun can resemble a bare light bulb placed behind a dusty bed sheet.

Another part of my original vision for living in this spot was being a permanent participant in the city’s noisy spectacle, always connected to what was happening. I would only want to live in a busy city, but I’m questioning my desire to be connected all the time. Periods of silence compliment a productive relationship with a busy city.

I just spent a week in a kind of silence. I was staying in a woodsy village a couple of hours south of Seoul. There were few cars and no raised voices. While indoors at night, outdoors seemed silent from behind walls and windows. Once in the open, there was the noise of insects, the sound of water dripping off trees after a recent rain. Even the humidity thickened the air with something like sound. The aura seemed unified.

We associate noisiness with uneven and unpredictable sounds. A sound is more disruptive if unexpected. The sound in a docile place is more even and consistent. It seems cohesive instead of fractious and competitive. Quiet gives a longer life to the sounds that interrupt it. It’s possible to hear the full cycle of an approaching engine, its growth from a distant wail to a full roar to a receding whistle.

Silence fades at the moment it becomes apparent. It is in many senses an absence, but this absence is relative. It is a clearing. It allows other sounds to take the place of other noise. These new sounds are internal and can be controlled.

The silence in most places in this country is created by rules: curfews, trespassing regulations, mandatory closing times for stores. The way to silence in this country is to acquire large amounts of private property and set the standards of conduct.

When in a silent place, one’s thoughts grow louder and demand more attention. They expect to be acted upon. This is the inverse of the distraction brought on by noise. Maybe that is the value of silence. So much is accomplished in this dense little country. It’s tough to fathom it as impoverished a few dozen years ago. One needs to both hear and turn off the murmurs of progress at different times, to mull over and act on one’s thoughts.

Still in denial?

2010-07-16T13:03:00.000+09:00

If you’re crazy about visual political propaganda like I am, this is fascinating for a few reasons.

The above image was captured in Pyongyang by a visiting Chinese businessman. It depicts a North Korean soldier crushing a ship similar to the Cheonan, South Korea’s vessel that sank in March. The hangul text translates as “Ready to crush any attack with a single blow!”

It’s believed that indirect impact from a torpedo caused the rupture that brought the ship down. South Korea and the UN have mentioned North Korea as the attack’s likely perpetrator. Pyongyang has denied any involvement.

Perhaps most remarkably, this case shows how technology is making it more difficult to keep information sealed in or out of a totalitarian state.

Joong-ang

2010-07-13T06:48:00.001+09:00

A piece of mine is in today's Joong-ang Ilbo

http://joongangdaily.joins.com/article/view.asp?aid=2923062

Notes from a recent trip to Wall Street

2010-07-06T20:15:00.001+09:00

When walking downtown to Wall Street in Manhattan, the city’s multifarious mess becomes neat. The street is filled with suited men who speak in high, authoritative tones. The air becomes cooler as the air-conditioned towers gust onto the street.

“Wall Street makes the world go round”

I heard this more than once during my stay in New York. The city’s atmosphere of financial lust causes this sentence to be spoken in awe-struck tone. Many people who live in New York are so enthralled with money that they couldn’t speak ill of the centre of wealth, the place where capital is manufactured and personal fortunes are made. The rich are above criticism.

No one asks why and how Wall Street is so much bigger than it was even twenty years ago or about the effects of a huge portion of the U.S’s most talented graduates going into a field that produces nothing. It should be asked if the kind of sustained prosperity needed in the American economy will be created while the financial services industry is allowed to dominate as it does. A strong case can be made, given the events of the last couple of years, that Wall Street actually does quite a bit of harm.

To believe in Wall Street as a source of growth is to mistake cause for effect. When defending the large firms that work on Wall Street, the most common (and assumed to be the most effective) argument in its favor would be that slip-ups on Wall Street affect markets all over the world. When something bad happens in lower Manhattan, bad stuff then happens in Europe, Asia and in financial markets everywhere else.

One of the industry’s flagship firms, Goldman Sachs, is in the beginning stages of what will surely be a protracted investigation by federal authorities. I talked about this with an old friend who has worked there since graduating a few years ago. He described the company’s culture as strictly by the book. He said as an employee he was told, and learned from his company’s regulations, that “if you do something illegal, you’re fucked.”

That may be true on many levels, but there's still plenty of reason to be suspicious of what takes place in the tall buildings that line Wall Street.

All good things

2010-07-05T11:15:00.000+09:00

South Korea’s World Cup run is over. They lost to a skilled Uruguayan squad late on Saturday night.

The energy of an elimination game on the world’s biggest stage was in Seoul’s murky air all day. It rained for much of the match. The game’s emotional peak came when, with the Korean side down by a goal, Lee Chung-yong headed a high ball past the Uruguayan keeper in the second half. Euphoria engulfed the city. Everyone left their feet, beer was spilled, strangers embraced. I hugged someone I had referred to as a “cunt” less than an hour earlier. For the next while, a feeling of real hope was felt in the crowd. The chants became louder; people drew their companions closer.

Then after another goal by the opposition it was all but over. The South Koreans were unable to beat Uruguay for the first time in five attempts. They wouldn't repeat their incredible run from 2002. The thrill of victory wouldn't infuse Seoul’s Saturday night spectacle. There was genuine sorrow in the city, but no one hung his or her head for long. The night and life moved forward.

North Korea is more than Kim Jong-il

2010-06-22T10:49:00.000+09:00

Nearly all of what the outside world knows (or purports to know) about North Korea comes from its English-language news releases and quotes from leader Kim Jong-il. North Koreans almost never get to speak for themselves.

The country’s football team got stomped by Portugal 7-0 last night. The North Koreans fought admirably in the first half, but their opponents went into all-out attack mode in the second and their defence collapsed.

In one of their few exchanges with media, the North Korean players said they were seeking to change their country’s image. Their effort, while unrewarded, may do a little of that.

It would be tempting for many western spectators to view last night’s competition as the developed west triumphing over a backward, dictatorial eastern country, which in some ways it was. It isn’t a new rhetorical trick to draw geopolitical metaphors from athletic competition.

Regardless of outcome, the performance of the isolated state’s football team is a rare and compelling glimpse behind the veil. North Korea is more than a large labor camp where the masses suffer under a totalitarian regime. It is a country populated by diligent, proud people with talent and ambition.

War in Korea

2010-06-03T09:17:00.000+09:00

For a place of supposed turmoil, the Korean peninsula was pleasantly welcoming when I touched down. In the later stages of a transitional season, times of gorgeous weather in this land, the air is fresh and bright. Pessimism doesn't prosper in such a setting.

On my recent visit to North America I was asked several times about the situation on the Korean peninsula. I was, out of genuine concern for my safety, asked for my estimation of a likelihood of war. (In late March, a South Korean ship was sunk and it looks like a torpedo launched by the North Korean military probably caused it).

As a general critic of the actions of men in uniform, I opined consistently that war was neither likely nor desirable.

The biggest reason is this: the line between business and government, feeble in most countries, is especially blurry in Korea. The ruling Lee Myung-bak regime is heavily staffed with luminaries from the country’s commercial elite. South Korea’s towering conglomerates, or chaebol in local parlance, are the true holders of power here. They are turned to before any significant decision is made in government. For all president Lee’s talk of action, nothing will be done that stands to damage the country’s precious economy, which military action certainly would. The South Korean government regularly goes to all lengths to downplay the perception of the peninsula as a place of war, which officially, it is (there has never been a peace treaty signed between the two Koreas). Attacking the North would run counter to so much that the South values.

There are some who believe that the sinking of the Cheonan ship was a theatrical ploy executed by the South Korean and American militaries. While the claims of conspiracy theorists channel a youthful kind of sanction in me (it’s tempting to believe that the most nefarious possibility is also the most likely), I can’t claim to have been persuaded. Holders of this position point to two bits of information to support their suspicions:

1) Sources say that on Kim Jong-il’s recent trip to China he effusively and convincingly denied any involvement in the ship’s sinking.

2) The torpedo thought to have pierced the Cheonan was German, a country not known to supply weapons to North Korea.

I stop short of calling them holes, but there are shortcomings in this case. The first is that a lack of admission on Kim’s part is by no means basis for a presumption of his innocence. As for the second point, does anyone know conclusively who supplies North Korea with its weapons? For anyone who claims to, how exactly do they know? None of this information is made publicly available. What bits of info do leak out of the hermit kingdom can’t be fully relied upon. There is also the troubling matter of believing that South Korean officials were willing to sign off on the deaths of dozens of young soldiers as fodder for their ploy.

My best guess is things that will continue as before: the politicians will squawk, the outside world will fret, and the diligent, dignified lives of Koreans will continue as before.

Clinton at Yale

2010-05-31T12:41:00.000+09:00

Yale’s old campus was the setting for Bill Clinton’s graduation speech, which I attended. I sat deep into the large audience, so I had only a slight view of Clinton as he spoke. I could hear him fine, though.

Bill Clinton reminds Americans of better times. His rule was a time of greater security and prosperity and of fewer worries. Clinton had the good fortune of having his rule nestled between wars and recessions. The man is a bit of an enigma unto himself. He’s considered to be a bleeding heart liberal by some, a right-wing wolf in sheep’s clothing by others. Judging by his reception at Yale, his supporters far outnumber his enemies.

With employment opportunity for recent graduates shrinking, the task of delivering an uplifting speech is now more challenging than it once was. Fortunately, Clinton is a master of spin. Also, those gathered at schools like Yale are to some extent insulated from the effects of a faltering economy and growing underclass.

He appeared after a gushing introduction during which he was referred to as “one of the most recognizable and powerful” people in the world and a “true hero”. His introducer said since his tenure as president, he has “remained in the public eye devoted to service”, determined to “alleviate problems” and “work tirelessly for the betterment of lives” with “unwavering dedication”.

Fortunately Clinton himself relied less on the hackneyed and overstated. All the standard words of these kinds of speeches appeared early in his speech: celebrate, achievement, future, hope, reflection. He got them out of the way early. He then, with either real or feigned humility (with Clinton’s charisma it’s difficult to tell which), claimed he was about to give the audience “the best he could do”.

He found optimism in an interesting form by claiming that the approaching era, the one the funny-hat-wearing graduates were stepping into, would be the most interesting time in human history. I guess war and economic turmoil are indeed interesting.

He used statistics from biology to illustrate how all human beings are almost exactly the same. We should concentrate on this stuff that we have in common instead of the small bit that sets us apart. Clinton says the world’s problems are that it is too unequal, too unstable and too unsustainable. Graduates’ goals should be to deal with these challenges as an integral part of their lives.

The standard poverty statistics then made their unsurprising appearance. Clinton went through the laundry list of how many people live on less than one or two American dollars a day, how many lack clean water, basic education and other essentials. The most noteworthy was probably his mention that 2/3 of American households have lower real incomes than twenty or thirty years ago. Also unsurprising was his choice not to acknowledge his own role in creating that situation.

Optimistic rhetoric often phrases crisis as opportunity, and right on cue Clinton framed his remarks by stating “This is the greatest opportunity this country has faced since World War II.” Even an ardent pessimist could be turned by Clinton’s contention that pessimism and cynicism will accomplish nothing.

Think positive. Work together. Serve the public. Clinton covered familiar ground but managed to do it in a fresh way. The trick of an effective (but not truly great) speaker is to leave the audience feeling as though they heard more than they actually did. In that, as in much else, Clinton was successful.

Taipei

2010-05-14T06:51:00.000+09:00

Taipei has some of the smells but none of the charm of the tropics. Its rich area at the city center has pushed away the street life that animates warm-weather Chinese cities. There are chain restaurants instead of noodle houses. The avenues are wide, the distance between each building great. It’s the same absurdity in every large Asian city: ritzy big buildings built over what the place really looks like, a sort of developmental make believe, or sleight of hand. The shining and modern, like in comparable cities, is the side Taipei officially shows to the outside world. It likes to present itself as glitzier than it actually is. The city’s promotional photographs (one of which I would see almost daily on the subway in Seoul) feature pictures of the city at night. Darkness is forgiving of shortcomings. It covers the city’s blemishes. The lack of natural light gives voice to the artificial kind. Ubiquitous neon signs are color laid upon the dim canvas of night. The very tall Taipei 101 building is featured prominently. The city’s officials would rather not portray it as the grainy, disenchanting city that it is.

At least some (maybe most) of my displeasure can be attributed to the circumstances under which I visited Taipei. I arrived in the Taiwanese capital on a rainy Sunday night, maybe the worst time to see an active city. I wasn't intending to spend much time there, as I was on a stopover, traveling between Seoul and Toronto. I had a pretty bad cold. I was staying in a cheap hotel. Travel loses its romance when, runny-nosed, having slept poorly in a cramped, humid room, one is found searching a soulless underground shopping arcade first for a place to relieve a stinging bladder, then for something to eat other than a watery bowl of noodles. I only found one of those.

Maybe the most damning criticism a traveler can make is to leave a place with no communicable impression of it. To be moved to say nothing about a place after leaving is a subtle but thorough put-down.

After my brief stay, I was happy to be moving on, but unhappy to find myself on a creaking, heaving bus on some milk-run around Taipei. Every time the driver used the turn signal, a shrieking beep would emit from the bus’s speakers. I had bought a ticket for what was advertised as an airport express. Nearly an hour after leaving the main bus terminal, we were still in what looked like central Taipei, dropping off and picking up passengers for short trips. A glance at a clock told me my flight would leave in two hours. I had planned to arrive at the airport at this time. Still not out of the city, I began to worry. I was paralyzed by lack of language, as I didn't know Chinese for “Um, are we actually going to the airport? Can you hurry the fuck up?”

I was leaving from the airport’s Terminal 2. We pulled up at the arrivals section before running completely out of time. A worn-looking woman tapped my shoulder and said something in Chinese with the intonation of a question. I told her I didn't understand. She laid her palm flat then raised it in a take-off motion. I said yes, I was flying out, but this is the arrivals area. She tugged on my shoulder so as to say ‘you need to get off here’. I grabbed my bags and jogged into the airport. I found a sign for departures. I didn’t look back.

우리 집에 가요

2010-05-10T10:39:00.000+09:00

At the beginning or end of many long days in Seoul, I find myself in taxis going either to or from home. That’s the only time I ever hear Korean radio, most of which seems made up of banal talk programs, which are interspersed by one of a few commercials. One of which features a meek sounding young Korean girl singing the lyrics “ooh ri jib ga yo.” Each time she sings it, it’s repeated like an echo. It translates as “we’re going home.” I think it’s an ad for a department store. As I sit in the backseat, groggily mulling over the day just passed or the day ahead, this would routinely (and unwillingly) remind me of how far I was from home and the comfort that comes with it. The singing voice would, as a result of my sleepiness, channel parts of my brain that would allow it to sound both silly and sweet.

But now I finally am going home. Not permanently, but after more than a year away, I’m making a three-week visit to Canada and the U.S, with a brief stay in Taipei at the beginning. I’m looking forward to it and will write some posts about the places I visit.

Worse than Arizona

2010-05-07T11:06:00.000+09:00

For a state law, the measure recently passed in Arizona has earned a huge amount of attention, and this isn’t a fluke. The new law ‘obligates’ police to check the legal status of anyone they ‘reasonably suspect’ to be in the country illegally. It’s unclear how something as distinct as ‘obligation’ can neatly hinge on something as ambiguous as ‘reasonable suspicion’. But of course the law is worded euphemistically. Vagueness in the language of enforcement is a more potent enemy of freedom than any terrorist. The act’s subtext is that Hispanic ethnicity is grounds to suspect, with apparent reason, that someone may be undocumented. It requires that immigrants carry documentation at all times and live in fear of being deported any time they step outside.

It’s a step toward a police state and counterproductive to creating the kind of cohesive society everyone wants.

I’ve spent some time in Korea reporting on migrant workers who come from South and Southeast Asia to work in the country’s manufacturing and construction industries. Koreans have an aversion to physical labor and import workers out of economic necessity. Ever since Korea opened to foreign workers in the 1990’s, they have faced conditions far worse than anything about to come into effect in Arizona.

The current system in Korea encourages workers to overstay their initial one-year visa, as they can earn higher wages working illegally. This means they remain in the country until long after their visas have expired. For the past couple of years there has been a pronounced ‘crackdown’ on foreign workers. Police often go round to restaurants where migrants are known to gather, ask everyone for their papers, then round up and deport anyone without valid documents. There is nearly no outcry in Korean society about this.

If you’re ever overcome with the scale of your own problems, have a conversation with someone who’s unsure if they will spend that evening at home or in a jail cell, en route to being deported from their country of residence. It does wonders for perspective.

In Arizona, South Korea or anywhere else, when a society allows one group to be persecuted, everyone is less free.

Democratic regression

2010-05-05T16:31:00.001+09:00

At times, Korean society seems like a massive audience for a tiny group of performers. A small group of rich men run this country.

Korea will hold municipal elections in June. Outsiders revere the country as a successful democracy, one whose economic development was accompanied by advances in social and political freedoms. It made a thorough transition from military dictatorship to consolidated democracy with all the principal features of an open society. In many ways this perception is accurate; though its accuracy may be one the wane. It’s tempting to view democratic transition as moving in one consistent direction.

A democracy’s health can be gauged by the distance between its leaders and its people.

Samsung president Lee Gun-hee was recently granted a full presidential pardon after being indicted on charges of tax evasion. Conventional wisdom is that his connections would help Pyeongchang city’s bid for the 2018 winter Olympics.

President Lee Myung-bak has recently been on a campaign to replace the president’s of the country’s major financial institutions with cronies of his.

The large middle class is largely responsible for the society’s success, but it’s shrinking. A recent report by the Hyundai Research Institute has shown more Koreans falling into poverty. The country’s major corporations continue to grow impressively, but job growth hasn't kept pace.

Korea’s democracy was gained through street protests and other forms of public pressure, notably in 1919 and 1987. It’s unlikely that present-day would erupt into large, spirited protests any time soon, seeing as it’s a pretty apolitical place where nearly everyone is too busy with school or work to worry much about the workings of government. As such, the distance between the leaders and the public grows. As that distance grows, Korea’s stable, prosperous nature is eroded.

Would Kim win the war?

2010-04-29T10:16:00.001+09:00

With tensions rising between North and South, it was ironic to find this 1994 issue of Time magazine on a stack of old books outside a used bookstore near my home in Seoul last week.

New bike

2010-04-20T09:58:00.001+09:00

One day years from now, this kid will look at this bike and feel a sense of shame that will dwarf the pride he felt on this day.

The enigma of poverty

2010-04-12T11:11:00.000+09:00

In Orwell’s fictionalized study of the sociology of poverty, Down and Out in Paris and London, a rueful narrator suggests that poverty may at first seem simple. Poverty is determined by a lack of options. The existence of those without wealth is necessarily narrow. But even within these constraints, it is in no way simple; it’s endlessly complicated. It’s also becoming more common. The nature of what it means to have not is varied and evolving.

The poverty that exists in Korea is an atypical kind. For starters, there isn’t all that much of it. This is a country of widely distributed wellness, with a large middle class and a social structure that often prevents destitution. The society’s standards are generally meritocratic. Those who show aptitude are usually rewarded.

But every city has its dark corners. Much of the street crime that does exist in Korea takes place in Shilla, a neighborhood that is said to contain large groups of poor people. Shilla is located within striking distance of the country’s most prestigious university, a degree from which is thought of as a ticket into the country’s upper echelon.

The area is populated by people in their late twenties and early thirties, most of whom are unemployed. Their form of poverty is unconventional. They are in perennial preparation for the entrance exams for some of Korea’s most stable professions: civil servant, public school teacher, lawyer. The competition for each is intense. Those who don’t pass often retake the test. But not all pass; regardless of how many times the test is taken.

The neighborhood has a slew of private educational facilities that help students study for the exams. There has also been a proliferation of other amenities, mainly bars and brothels, which cater to the isolated. No one is sure what came first, the clients or the providers.

The area has a ragged, unmade atmosphere. Korea is a country of clear direction. In Shilla, that direction seems stalled or lost.

In the heart of the country

2010-03-25T13:08:00.000+09:00

It’s difficult to determine where the heart of Korea lies. It is a country with generally agreed upon national character and direction, but no sentimental hub, no place where the nation breathes deepest.

The commercial, cultural and administrative head is undoubtedly Seoul. It’s the country’s largest, most important city by a wide margin. But like many capitals of small countries, it’s almost an entity unto itself. Its size, development and cosmopolitan composure leave it little in common with the rest of the country. Koreans born in Seoul and those born elsewhere have different experiences.

The Republic of Korea is the product of the merging of three dynasties. Regional rivalries from those eras persist to this day. The southwest of the country is highly developed as a consequence of being the home region of former president Park Chung-hee. The area has a large population and forms a powerful constituency.

The short end of the deal went to Jeolla province, a humble, heavily agricultural area in the country’s center-west. It received less government assistance and corporate investment than the other regions. It still relies on agriculture as its main industry. Jeolla-do is the only place in South Korea where the view of land horizon isn’t obscured by buildings or mountains. The curse of neglect bestows the blessing of stasis.

Much of this country has been paved over. This synthetic makeover severs the connection of land with its past. The area found among the back roads of Jeolla-do is something like the heart of the country. There is still a connection of land to people, and person to person.

A child in Korea

2010-03-24T10:20:00.000+09:00

Sokcho

2010-03-08T09:56:00.000+09:00

During winter, the mountains in the North lose their greenness and sink into a dull brown. They become uglier when the brown is juxtaposed with snow. Coming north of Seoul, to surprisingly colder temperatures, is like moving back a few months, to a time further away from the warmth of seasonal change. This sense of regression is unpleasant.

The landscape is mountainous. The mountains are a form of defiance. They’re the only land in this country not covered with buildings. They mock Korea’s development. If they weren’t impossible to build upon they’d be covered in commerce.

Sokcho, like other small cities in Korea, has an atmosphere of desertion. There are almost no young people around. Most people of working age have left; the brightest among them leave to attend university in Seoul. The less accomplished leave to seek work after graduating. All the good jobs are in the big city. To remain here into adulthood is seen as a sign of failure.

The sense of desertion is doubled by the city’s seasonal nature, for Sokcho is a beach town. In early March, there are almost no tourists here. I was the only guest in the hotel I stayed in. This whole country vacations at the same time. In July and August this town would be crowded beyond belief. Beneath a thin blanket of wet snow, it waits for its time.

A handful of middle-aged women (or ajumma as they’re known locally) stood along the main road into evening. They tried to flag down cars and convince the people riding in them to stay at the hotels they worked for.

I wondered the same things I always wonder when observing people working at time-consuming, unskilled work with no guaranteed income. I wondered how much money they actually made doing this and what kind of a standard of living that afforded them. They likely made their money as commission when someone agreed to stay at their hotel.

A tall woman with the standard short hairstyle asked me if I would like a room. I told her I already had one. She then gracefully shed the commercial orientation of our exchange. She asked the basic introductory questions. She then asked me how I was able to converse in Korean if I wasn’t a student. I told her I didn’t know, then said I was being sarcastic.

I wanted to ask her about the limitations of this kind of work, how she supports herself. She likely had children who held jobs in another city. Instead I told her it had been nice meeting her and stepped back into my warm hotel. She said it had also been nice meeting me and remained in the cold.

The Olympics speak to something we're losing.

2010-03-01T16:04:00.000+09:00

It’s easy to be critical of the Olympics. Indeed, it’s pretty much a moral necessity to disapprove of the rampant corporatism, the inflated security budget, the massive government spending in neglect of Vancouver’s real social problems.

It’s fair to expect that the games won’t leave the host a better city after they're over. People in Montreal or Athens would probably agree with that. It’s more likely that the games will accelerate the trends already reshaping urban centers. When the circus leaves town, Vancouver will likely be less personal, less affordable, more unequal, more in debt. The elites wanted the Olympics because they benefit from playing host and hob-knobbing with the rest of the rich and powerful. The goal was never to benefit the public as a whole.

But one benefit the public can gain from the set of events is a reminder that it does exist. Each of us belongs to something much bigger than ourselves. This comes in a variety of forms. The Olympics are a potent reminder of shared identity and achievement.

In today’s world one can easily lose awareness of membership in a broader collective. The ties that bind society- community groups, permanent employment, unions, enduring friendships- are weak and getting weaker. So many of us are now contract workers and Facebook friends.

The Olympics take place against a backdrop of economic and social turmoil. In a neat bit of irony, the Great Recession has sparked a series of virulent right-wing backlashes. Instead of banding together to face the crisis, many are retreating into enclaves of frustration.

In light of my own criticism of the Olympics, I couldn't help but foolishly jump about a bar in Seoul when the Canadian men’s hockey team won gold. It was the first time I’d watched a hockey game since the last Olympics. I don’t even live in Canada at present. It’s even easier to become lost in one’s individualism while living abroad. Maybe that’s why I appreciated some contact with home.

The problems of our current era won’t become any easier to solve if we deny our shared experiences of nationhood and humanity. Regardless of what form it comes in, it's useful to be reminded of them.

The curious case of Bob the salaryman

2010-02-24T09:18:00.000+09:00

As I mentioned in my piece for Adbusters, many Koreans have similar goals. The most common of which is probably a well-paying job for one of the country’s flagship companies. In particular, many Koreans have ambitions of working in the financial sector, mostly drawn by the industry’s high salaries. It isn't a huge leap of faith to presume that someone who has accomplished all the standard ambitions held by the people of this country would be happy with his or her station. That’s the whole idea, right, to be happy?

Consider the curious case of Bob the salaryman. Bob (not his real name, though he does use an equally funny ‘English’ name) works for one of the country’s largest securities firms. He earns well. He joined the company after graduating from a prestigious university. He has done well in his career. He’s been promoted a few times. Now in his late 30’s, he’s married to a pretty woman who also works at his company. They have two children. They live in an upscale neighborhood of Seoul.

And as best as I can tell, Bob hates his life.

Whenever I see him I ask, “Hi Bob, how are you?” He usually responds with a statement of one or two words.

“Exhausted.”

“Angry.”

“Not good.”

He hates working from seven in the morning until ten at night. He thinks his boss is an arrogant, incompetent fool. He hates listening to his mother complain about how she doesn’t want to care for his children while him and his wife are at work.

He has never traveled abroad. He wishes he had more time to read. He wishes he had studied something in university that would have taught him more than the workings of financial markets. He longs for a kind of freedom he has never known.

The end of the line

2010-02-21T22:45:00.000+09:00

Mokpo is the last city on Korea’s southwestern edge. It’s the main port serving ships to and from Jeju-do, China and Southeast Asia. It’s known to be the home of Korea’s mafia.

The city’s residents are mainly employed in the shipping industry. Like port cities everywhere, it’s a bit raw. The day I visited, the small city was bathed in sunshine, which along with the fresh sea air and colourful buildings gave it an almost Mediterranean feel.

An outpost of progress

2010-02-15T13:26:00.000+09:00

Suwon Fortress is about an hour outside of Seoul. It was a defensive point built during the Joseon dynasty. It’s now just like all tourist destinations in Korea: meticulously maintained evidence of the country’s sad past.

The most remarkable aspect of the fortress isn't the structure itself, but the view it allows of the massive city that has sprouted during its existence.

The Dark Side of the Moon

2010-02-10T17:31:00.000+09:00

Two kinds of story appear almost daily in the Korean press. There are those that celebrate the country’s economic recovery with news of optimistic predictions, stock markets gains and strong growth rates. The Korean stock market is at a relative high point. The country’s flagship companies like Samsung and LG are enjoying large profits. It is argued by business and media analysts that the global recession is largely over.

The others tell a curious side of the same story. They are concerned with the reality of those unattached to Korea’s elite institutions. They suggest what is politely called ‘a jobless recovery’. The country’s unemployment rate is at its highest point in decades. The number of economically inactive people recently topped four million.

On the northern outskirts of Seoul, is the Dal Dong Nae or Moon Village. It is the last of an infamous kind of settlement that was once common in the Korean capital. The name Dal Dong Nae has its origins in the community’s elevation. Being high on a hill, there is a closer view of the moon. Poor residents settled there because the land’s uneven composure made it less suitable to agriculture and therefore less expensive. In this community of flimsy housing, the nighttime glow of the moon is the only discernable luxury.

Local residents are tenuously holding on to their property in and around the Moon Village. As Seoul’s population balloons, speculators are buying up land, expecting it to be purchased by a developer and turned into condos soon.

Korea’s economy is disproportionately concentrated in Seoul. The already massive city has seen its population double in the last thirty years. Thousands of new residents arrive each week. This creates a demand for housing that is impossible to satisfy. It also creates a huge profit incentive in demolishing low-lying buildings and replacing them with high rises. In various parts of the city, police forces have forcibly evicted residents on behalf of developers.

On January 20^th 2009, five residents died in clashes with police in Yongsan, a central area of Seoul. Local residents had occupied a building and were refusing to leave their homes to developers seeking to build high-end condos. A settlement was reached between the government and the victim’s families ahead of the incident’s anniversary in January. It’s believed that the government paid up to make the issue go away. The Moon Village situation suggests that it hasn’t and isn’t about to go away.

Promising headlines about elite prosperity can create a misleading impression. There is recovery for those with access to large stores of capital, who work in one of a few industries, and are part of a small number of elite organizations. The reasons for the disconnect between improving macroeconomic figures and reality for regular people goes unexplained.

It’s worth wondering how long the Moon Village will be able to withstand the encroaching city. It’s also worth considering where its residents will go after being priced out of their neighborhood.

In Korea, material improvement is the animating substance of progress. Most tangible evidence of the civilization’s extensive history was lost to war. Physical development has been an integral part of recovery the country’s from its tragic history. Newness is now viewed as being interchangeable with prestige. ‘Modern’ is taken to signify luxury; anything old is a sign of poverty. But to visit the Moon Village and see only poverty in its weathered homes is to miss the beauty of autonomy and resilience.

On the grind

2010-02-05T18:34:00.001+09:00

An awful noise comes from somewhere beneath my apartment. I hear it every day. It sounds like a set of gears grinding something into a powder. Or like a motorized machine running low on oil.

I have no idea what it is. I’ve figured it’s probably some kind of productive activity, someone working on something. This is Korea and work is king.

But it happens at all times of day, from the morning to the middle of the night. It creates a soundtrack for everything I do. When I step out into the hallway, it vanishes. I wonder if any of my neighbors can hear it. It seems to come from within the building.

It irritates the hell out of me, mostly because of its mystery. It isn’t the noise as much as the question of what it is that tugs at me. An annoying sound is manageable; a constant grumble I can’t explain is much worse.

I thought western people don't like that

2010-02-03T12:14:00.000+09:00

Eating at restaurants is a foundational aspect of socializing in Korea. I’ve spent many evenings recently out at dinner with Koreans. Friends and deals are both made over grilled meat, rice and kimchi. Conversation is lubricated by soju, the foul-smelling Korean national liquor.

Last week a dinner companion suggested we go for hamburgers. I grimaced. It’s not that I don’t like hamburgers, but in Korea western food is almost always overpriced and unremarkable. Korean food tends to be inexpensive and delicious, which makes the choice between them pretty easy.

I asked my friend why she had suggested hamburgers. She said that she assumed that I would prefer something western. She thought Korean food would be too spicy for me.

We ended up eating Korean barbeque. Throughout our meal and others like it I’ve had, whenever I would reach for some item of Korean food on the table, I’d hear the same comment: “You like that? Wow, I thought Western people don’t like that.” Servers in restaurants often double-check that what I’ve just ordered won’t be too spicy for me.

I’m occasionally asked what ‘western people’ think of a certain topic, as if westerners were a unified group that I’m somehow qualified to speak on behalf of. It’s tough not to sound condescending when I attempt to explain that western people come from a variety of countries, not all of whom speak English or have fair skin. To assume uniformity among ‘western people’ is ridiculous.

Koreans tend to project their own country’s consistency on other parts of the world. They seem to think that because their country has a generally agreed upon culture others must be the same. It’s even more difficult to explain that in western countries it’s encouraged to think differently from the norm. While I may enjoy a certain kind of food, that doesn’t mean that there was some sort of westerner tribunal that took place to decide if we liked it or not.

I write because I can’t afford therapy. I wrote this because it will make it less likely that I’ll flip out the next person who sees me tearing into a bowl of deinjang jjigae and says “oh, I thought western people don’t like that.”

How the mighty keep falling

2010-01-31T17:09:00.000+09:00

Since Adbusters posted my piece about the psychological dimension of recovery in Korea, there has been another high-profile suicide in the country’s elite. The vice-president of Samsung Electronics was found dead outside his apartment building last week. He is believed to have jumped to his death.

He was a prototypical Korean success story. He graduated from Seoul National University, the nation’s top school. He did graduate work at Stanford. In 2006 he was awarded a prize after being named Samsung’s top engineer. He lived in a luxury apartment in Kangnam, Seoul’s wealthiest district. He earned an annual salary of over 1 billion Korean won (a little less than a million dollars).

He claimed the stress of his job was too great. He is survived by a wife and two children.

Adbusters

2010-01-28T07:58:00.000+09:00

A piece I wrote for Adbusters has just been posted.

In South Korea the economy is seen to be recovering, but that is just one part of the process of healing from the economic crisis. The psychological side of the crisis is rarely discussed. It defies diminution into growth rates and statistics. There are deep, difficult to detect scars on the South Korean people. The country has an extensive history of tragedy that has never been thoroughly addressed. It suffered through colonial occupation and a brutal civil war. It remains divided.

https://www.adbusters.org/blogs/dispatches/i-will-work-harder.html

Curious

2010-01-22T17:26:00.000+09:00

There are confirmed cases of hoof and mouth disease in the south of Korea. The illness was found among han woo cows, a breed of cattle indigenous to Korea. Their meat is considered a delicacy. Like the other unique aspects of Korean culture, it is a source of national pride.

In 2008, vigorous protests erupted when president Lee Myung-bak agreed to resume beef imports from the U.S. There had been a case of mad cow reported several years earlier. Korea has an ongoing ban on the import of Canadian beef due to a case of the same disease reported in 2003.

Amidst concrete evidence of infection (albeit of a less serious condition) among Korean cattle, han woo restaurants remain popular. There are no protests outside government buildings urging a limit on production or consumption of domestically produced beef.

Recently released statistics show rates of crimes to be more than twice as high among Korean nationals than foreign-born residents of Korea. This news is relegated to the back pages of the country’s major newspapers. The headline simply tells readers that new statistics have been released. It makes no allusion to this curious set of findings.

In Korea there are casinos and resorts that are available exclusively to foreigners. There will also soon be a jail. One of the world’s first foreign-only jails is being opened in Cheonan.

One can reasonably observe these seemingly minor but concurrent news stories and conclude that a degree of xenophobia exists in Korea. Though not its original meaning, this word is usually used to signify a hatred of or distaste for outsiders. In the case of Korea, its literal meaning is accurate. It is as though Koreans are scared of foreigners. This country guards its autonomy passionately and is unnerved by foreign influence. These two cases suggest a lack of a factual basis for mistrust of the non-Korean world and assumptions of purity at home.

Photo by Jessica Abrego :p

Central Asian village

2010-01-04T18:27:00.001+09:00

Korea is a country that likes to consider itself ethnically homogenous. Given the country’s history of Japanese and Chinese influence, this homogeneity has always been more rhetoric than reality. As the Korean population declines, the ethnic composure of Korea is becoming more varied.

There are a few well-established pockets of diversity in the country. Near Dongdaemun market, one of Seoul’s trading hubs, is a mini-village of Central Asian businesses. Traders from Russia and Uzbekistan began to frequent the area to do deals with leather and textiles.

Over a heavy, meaty dinner in what looked like an Uzbek living room, it was tempting to wonder when the day will come that non-Koreans don’t seclude themselves in enclaves but engage in broader society. Like all myths, the tale of homogeneity is difficult to shake. It will likely last until after reality has proved it false.

Yongsan victims receive compensation

2009-12-31T14:47:00.000+09:00

An agreement has been reached between the Seoul Metropolitan government and the families of the victims of the Yongsan massacre.

Nearly a year ago, on January 20 2009, five activists were killed by police agents in a raid. The activists were former tenants of a building set to be demolished and replaced by an up-scale development. It’s part of a long-term trend of displacing low-income residents of Seoul.

Since then, groups of activists have demanded an inquiry into the incident. The government refused to comment publicly and disclose materials from their own investigation.

When I spoke to Mr. Zo, the group’s English-language spokesperson, in early December, he told me they had no plans to commemorate the massacre’s one-year anniversary. They hoped and expected the matter would be resolved by then. While I admired his resolve, given the Korean government’s track record on these matters, it was difficult to share his optimism.

This morning it was announced that the victims’ families received compensation from the government, the terms of which were not disclosed.

Many aspects of the incident remain unclear. During our interview at the movement’s headquarters, Zo told me “It’s still a mystery how those five people died inside the fortress. The judge sentenced the activists to five, six years in prison. We appealed and the prosecutors actually made 10000 pages of investigation paper right after the massacre. But during the trial the prosecutors only submitted 7000 pages. And so the defending lawyers, the other activists and the families couldn’t access those remaining 3000 pages. We strongly believe that the truth about how the people died is hidden in those 3000 papers. During this legal battle the prosecutors still are refusing to release those documents. Even though the judge ordered the prosecutors to release them. It’s a big mystery.”

The government has yet to make a statement on the terms of the victims’ deaths, which according to Mr. Zo, warrant further investigation. “They did an autopsy without the consent of the family members. The five dead bodies are still being kept at the hospital. The family members actually were allowed to see those dead bodies. They then realized that the cause of death was not burns because the ankles and the wrists were cut off. The family members could see bruises all over the bodies so actually the wives are totally convinced that those five dead activists were severely beat up by the police and some of the bodies were actually found outside of the fortress after the fire. So the whole thing was fabricated by the police, the scientific investigation unit. They escaped from the fortress but later they were found inside the fortress so it’s natural for us to believe that they were beat up by the police and then thrown back into the burning fortress to make it look like they had burned to death.”

“We hope that before the one-year anniversary we can settle this matter. We couldn’t have a funeral for these five activists. It’s been one year without a proper burial. It’s a really terrible thing. It’s not about money. People got killed.”

A funeral will be held on January 9^th. Today’s announcement shows optimism was warranted and the group’s work not fully in vain. That being said, this is no closed case.

The site of the massacre

MTU Update

2009-12-16T23:29:00.000+09:00

Since my piece on the Korean government’s persecution of migrant workers went to print in Briarpatch magazine, the crackdown has continued. Last week I met with Jeong Young-sup whom I interviewed for the piece. As we peeled oranges in his chilly central Seoul office, him and Sanjib Chapagain, the union president, told me that around 100 workers are still being deported every day. Police show up at public places where migrants are known to frequent. They demand IDs and take into custody those who don’t have them.

This past Sunday I attended a rally the union held outside of Seoul station.

The translator who can't speak English

2009-12-06T23:07:00.000+09:00

Earlier this year, I was sitting on a patio enjoying afternoon drinks with a friend when she pulled a Korean language novel out of her handbag. I picked it up and looked it over. In the liner notes I saw that the writer was a Westerner and the book had been originally written in English. I asked my friend where she had gotten this. She said that the translator was a friend of hers and he had given it to her. I asked her more about her friend. She said he worked full-time translating literature from English into Korean. I asked if I could meet him sometime. After a short phone call, she said he would come join us on the patio.

For some time I’ve been interested in literary translation. Some of my favorite writers (Dostoevsky, Mishima, Kapuscinski) wrote in languages other than English. All of their writing is rich and full of nuance, making translation difficult. Translation requires an acute mastery of both languages.

When he arrived, we shook hands and exchanged pleasantries in Korean. After he sat down, I asked him a question in English. He smiled the nervous smile of the East Asian and said reluctantly “English-y don’t speak well”.

I was confused. This is a guy who makes his living translating literature from a language he says he can’t speak well. I thought that whoever pays him for this should ask for their money back. It was then explained to me, across multiple attempts, that he does have a strong understanding of English but since he never needs to speak that language, it’s really difficult for him to express himself verbally. I still couldn’t get past my expectation that he should be able to comfortably speak a language he translates from as a vocation.

Over the rest of the afternoon, we spoke a mixture of Korean and English. There were times where for him and I to communicate, my female friend would have to interpret for us. She is a professional engineer, he a professional translator.

I’ve heard stories of English classes in Korean middle and high schools consisting of a teacher at the front of the class dictating grammatical principles as if they were equations. The students sat silently and took notes. Never did they actually speak in the language they were studying. The result of this is a generation of Koreans who know all about English grammar, but can barely hold conversations.

My Korean is nowhere near good enough to read his translations and tell if they’re any good, but I kept going back to my conviction that a translator needs to be fully proficient in two languages. Korean translations are notoriously bad. Maybe his are good, maybe they aren’t. I wish I could ask him and have him explain it himself.

Obama in Seoul

2009-11-20T13:23:00.000+09:00

Obama’s trip to Asia highlights the disappointment of his tenure to this point. He comes here not as a progressive leader with a new vision, but as one pushing the same tired lines.

Korea has recently proved its faith as an ally and interest in mimicking failed conservative policies by pledging troops to assist the NATO-led coalition in Afghanistan. Obama is here to congratulate the Korean government on its decision to become involved in an unwinnable war. He also promised a “stern message” for North Korea while meeting with South Korean president (I won’t refer to him as a ‘leader’) Lee Myung Bak.

Though elected under promises to scale back America’s imperialist presence, Obama’s foreign policy has largely catered to the American war machine. This sector of the government is composed of people who speak no Korean and have never visited the peninsula, yet guide policy on the country. Their jingoism isn’t helpful to anyone but Kim Jong-il.

The North Korean dictator maintains power by convincing his citizens of America’s intention to invade and take over the country. North Korean propaganda tells them they live in the only true Korea, that the South exists under the control of the Americans. Every time an American leader makes these kinds of statements it bolsters this perception and lends the regime credibility.

So free trade pacts, more troops for destructive wars, threatening but ultimately hollow rhetoric for rogue states all sounds familiar, too familiar for a guy who was elected in a celebration of change. That ‘change’ remains now what it was then: an inspiring but intangible idea.

Basketball

2009-11-08T19:31:00.000+09:00

Korean professional basketball is a little like the country in general: an erratic, ungraceful jostle of too many people in too small a place. The game is a noisy and disorganized spectacle.

Each team is allowed two foreign players, only one of whom may play at a time. The foreigners tend to be American and tall.

Briarpatch Magazine

2009-11-04T09:50:00.000+09:00

My article about undocumented workers in Korea is now in print and online.

Two-tier workforce: South Korea’s migrant underclass bears the brunt of the recession

On May 2, 2009, Korean police apprehended Torna Limbu and Abdus Sabur. The arrests were separate but connected. Both men had long been active in South Korea’s Migrants’ Trade Union and had just been elected to the respective positions of president and vice-president. That evening, as they made their ways home from the union meeting, they were taken into custody and eventually deported.

South Korea’s export-led economy has been hard hit by the global economic crisis, and the country’s migrant workforce has made a particularly easy target for politicians looking for scapegoats. South Korea has historically been ethnically homogeneous and has had a tepid relationship with outsiders even in prosperous times; during times of hardship, these workers face even greater scrutiny and discrimination.

The full article can be found at:

http://briarpatchmagazine.com/two-tier-workforce/

The Last Frontier

2009-10-27T12:58:00.000+09:00

As a matter of policy, North Korean soldiers patrolling the DMZ are forbidden from displaying any kind of emotion. They remain frozen, standing rigidly upright with clenched fists. Aviator sunglasses hide their eyes. They make no acknowledgement of the troupes of visitors from the capitalist West who come to gaze upon them.

I’ve never looked at anyone and wondered more intensely about what might be taking place in his or her mind. Did these soldiers really consider themselves better off than the well-fed, camera-wielding tourists who gawked at them as if they were animals in a cage, as North Korean propaganda would have them believe? The Cold War is still very much alive at the DMZ, but do North Koreans actually believe themselves to be on the right side of it? Dishonest propaganda and fastidious control of information are the only ways to achieve such an end. It would be an incredible feat of misinformation if the uniformed lads were fully invested in their party’s Stalinist doctrine.

The Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea was created the same year that George Orwell’s 1984 was published. The young men who patrol the 38th parallel are proof of that work's continued relevance. But do they really love Big Brother?

Ask but don't tell?

2009-10-15T12:13:00.000+09:00

Koreans love when an ethnic Korean or Korean national makes it onto the world stage. A country with a sad history, Koreans feel as though they are lent a kind of prominence by seeing one of their own acknowledged on a global level.

Manchester United footballer Park Ji-sung is a national hero as a result of playing for the world’s biggest club. Hines Ward of the NFL, who was born in the U.S to a Korean mother and African-American father, is showered with praise when he visits this country. One has to wonder if similar adulation will be given to Dan Choi, a Korean-American currently making headlines in the U.S.

Mr. Choi is an openly gay U.S military officer. As a result of the military’s ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy, it is a dischargeable offence to openly state a homosexual orientation.

What this policy amounts to is asking homosexual members of the military to go their whole career hiding the fact that they're gay. It requires that they live a lie. It's based on the idea that the military couldn’t function with gays being able to live freely.

Mr. Choi is challenging this inhumane policy by speaking out about his plight on national television and lobbying president Obama to end “don’t ask, don’t tell”. He has done well. Obama recently pledged to end the policy, though he didn’t set a timetable.

So it seems Mr. Choi has been successful in working towards an admirable goal, one more worthwhile in my view, than scoring either goals or touchdowns. Will he inspire national pride in a country still uncomfortable with homosexuality?

The rich get richer

2009-10-13T21:20:00.000+09:00

Barack Obama seems to have won the Nobel Peace prize for having good intentions. Maybe he hasn’t done enough to deserve it. But this award was a waste for another reason: he doesn’t need it.

The current president is undoubtedly talented but his rule so far hasn’t been all that successful. His toning down of American foreign policy and reform of health care, while sensible, have been marred with difficulty. He was elected promising to pull American troops out of Iraq but in order to placate the American political war machine, he has had to pledge more troops to Afghanistan, a conflict that is deteriorating with no end in sight.

They gave the award to somebody who doesn’t stand to gain much from it. Obama is already a household name all over the world, already adored by millions, already wealthy and already a darling of the media. If anything, this award just makes things more difficult for him by adding the pressure of recognition and feeding the perception of him as someone long on words and accolades but short on actual accomplishments.

Why not give the award to somebody whose standard of living and ability to pursue their cause would have really changed because of the prize money? A prize as prestigious as the Nobel could have drawn huge attention to an overlooked cause. Had Chinese dissident Hu Jia won it would have (along with recognizing his tireless activism) put pressure on the Chinese government to make good on their overdue pledges to improve their human rights situation. Or even Zimbabwe’s Morgan Tsvangirai, who literally risks his life daily in a coalition government with his psychotic enemy Robert Mugabe in an effort to bring some measure of stability to his country. At least he could have benefitted from being paid in something other than hyper-inflated Zimbabwean dollars.

But neither would keep the award in the news. The Obama brand must have been more appealing than, you know...fostering peace.

Chuseok

2009-10-03T16:15:00.000+09:00

The coincidence of Chuseok with fall's enchanting weather is powerful. The noise of Seoul cedes to a graceful hum after the exodus of people leaving for their hometowns cuts the city’s population.

While past the torrid climax of summer, the sun still shines. The breeze that streams across the land is invigorating. Within this setting of warm, soothing tranquility, the focus of this bustling city briefly turns away from productivity and advancement and towards gratitude and reflection: honoring those who have passed, appreciating the presence of those one shares each day with. But this lull is not a departure; the forward momentum of Korean society will be resumed, only now recharged and newly focused.

The platter graciously prepared for me by my landlord's wife. The small cakes in the bowl on the right hand side are song pyoun, the traditional Korean rice cake made during Chuseok.

Kuta Beach

2009-10-03T13:18:00.000+09:00

The story of Indonesia is a story of conversion. The procedures of history have made over this territory, leaving it little connection to its origins. All over Indonesia traditional, animistic beliefs were supplanted by theistic faiths brought in from elsewhere. Groups of Indian traders converted most of the archipelago to Islam and Bali to Hinduism. After gaining independence Indonesia converted itself into a singular state composed of a wide swath of islands. It is now attempting to convert itself from a fractious, underdeveloped state into a prosperous democracy.

Animisms consider the world as a seamless whole. People are not just connected to land and animals, but form part of the same entity. To destroy one’s environment is an act of violence against oneself. The bond of a people to their land is severed when these beliefs are replaced by foreign dogmas.

Many similar ruptures and replacements are now taking place in Indonesia and elsewhere, except in much subtler forms. There is something disheartening in a place that has sold its collective soul to tourism. Kuta Beach is the epicenter of Bali’s tourist trade. To call Bali’s Kuta beach unremarkable is almost to flatter it. It was made that way by the strong waves that rhythmically splash against its shore. Bali was made infamous by the surfers who began to visit in the 1960’s and 70’s.

A place visually identical to Kuta could be found nearly anywhere on the globe. Its shopping malls and chain restaurants make it interchangeable with other towns that try to make outsiders comfortable by recreating the places they came from. The preserved temples around the island harken a by-gone era.

It provokes the odd self-loathing of the traveler- disliking a place because it is full of so many others like oneself. To believe this is to believe that locations are corrupted by the presence of those who visit from outside.

Kuta’s tourist trade has attracted poor Indonesians from across the country to work in its service facilities. This is supposed to lift a country from poverty.

I met a young woman as she worked in a bar in a relatively upscale section of Kuta.

She came to Bali from Borneo with her brother, he university-educated in economics, her in English. They came to find jobs serving tourists. They earn barely enough to pay the rent on the tiny room they share. They are only able to eat a small amount. He is fortunate to be provided food by the restaurant he works at, which he fears will close soon. Soon after arriving she fell victim to an ATM scam that deleted her savings. A group left the bar she works at without paying and the sum of their bill was taken out of her wages. Her boss told her that she needed to be responsible. She wants to return to Borneo soon, though she doesn’t have enough money for the flight. At least at home she’s provided with food and a free place to stay by her mother. She says she wants to die.

The flow of globalization goes in reverse. Poor people from rural areas are now going back where they came from, scarred and humiliated, their contact with modernity damning. She and others like her will return to the traditional ways of the village, only now without the dignity of inexperience.

Why I don't want a Kindle

2009-09-29T14:31:00.000+09:00

I recently read off a Kindle for the first time. I was somewhat relieved that the experience did nothing to make me want one. The fact that I was relieved reveals something about the bias I approach the device with. I’m unnerved by the digitization of art. I think there’s a lot to lose in trading paper and ink for a screen.

As I browsed through the selection of books stored on it, I came across some appealing titles. I’d read some of them, most I hadn’t. The odd thing was that at no point did I feel the intrigue or excitement that comes with finding an interesting book in a store or on a friend’s shelf. The stories felt muted, their abilities to speak for themselves snuffed out. I felt handcuffed by the inability to pick up each one, turn it over, read the liner notes and examine the cover art.

Sure there were buttons that could have accomplished all of these for me, but it just didn’t excite my brain like real books do. Not only was it not the same, it felt hollow.

The experience lead me to think of how I felt when I first published an article. My writing didn’t seem real or worth anything until I had held the printed paper in my hands and saw my words and name in ink. Something from my mind had been given a physical existence. It was now accessible to anyone who chose to read it. It wasn’t until I experienced these physical sensations that I felt I had made any contribution to public discourse or added anything to the tradition of the written word.

In all likelihood, what I wrote was read by few and soon became landfill fodder. Its physical life was short. But as we remove the physical component of ideas, their worth and our appreciation for them is eroded.

Only physical items bear consistency with their age: paper withers and yellows with time. Through this kind of deterioration we can appreciate the passage of time, the distance between two points and the events that passed between them. We can appreciate the fragility of existence and our own vulnerability. To give intellectual property a physical dimension is to place it within the whole of which it is part.

As we continue in this direction, we will sequester our ideas in digital form. We will increasingly look at pictures instead of telling stories. Our thoughts and conversations will become shorter and flatter.

I remember as a child feeling awe as I looked through the music and book collections of adults when entering the homes of family and friends. Each piece of art was accompanied by color and texture. The next generation of children will have no less of a desire for ideas, but will find only images on a screen, a laptop computer, a Kindle and an Ipod.

And I’m aware of the irony of using the soulless medium of a blog to write about this.

Jakarta

2009-09-21T21:31:00.001+09:00

As one approaches Jakarta, the city’s transition is played out at the side of the road. At the highway’s edge sit rice paddies and other fragments of the vegetation that once covered the land, but has since ceded to the encroaching city. The canals gradually become filled with more garbage, the slums busier and less dignified. Eventually the buildings become tall and modern. The natural is overtaken by the processed and this is progress.

When Indonesia gained independence in 1949, Jakarta was a leafy city of 1.5 million. It’s now a filthy, deafening sprawl that stretches far beyond its original limits. Curiously, it doesn’t create the sensation of largess found in other massive Asian cities. There is an odd sense of intimacy on its streets. Jakarta is more low-lying and less dense than its reputation might lead one to believe. It has been built out more than up, its growth taking the shape of improvised settlements that build off each other, accommodating new arrivals from the countryside who come to the capital to escape poverty and chase their dreams. The city is softened and made more forgiving by some remaining tropical vegetation, but is mostly the color of wear and decay- rust, dust, garbage, neglect, toil. It is drenched in heat, the tropical brand of heat that settles on one’s skin and feels like an eddying set of vapors.

Skyscrapers poke above the flat, crawling slums. They don’t seem to have been created in consistency with the flows of the city, but are foreign and offbeat. It was difficult, at this moment of arrival, to fathom the distance between the people in the skyscrapers and those in the gutters below them. It was more difficult to imagine them having any shared identity, anything that could bind them across such aesthetic and practical disparity. The concept of a unified Indonesia seemed quixotic at that moment.

The city itself is anachronistic, built to accommodate far fewer people than now call it home. Like the other swelling centers of the developing world, it is a city of dreams. Everyone arrives here with expectations.

Travel inevitably becomes a test of one’s expectations. Preconceived visions are tested against the reality of the ground and streets. Incongruity in these comparisons is often the result of ignorance or undue credulity.

On my way into the city I sat in the front seat of a taxi next to a driver with the physique and temperament of a twelve-year-old boy. He couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. He was being denied full manhood by poverty. His limbs were freakishly thin and he giggled almost constantly. He seemed to coat his discomfort in a veneer of jubilance. He interacted without confidence, speaking tentatively and making overextended gestures. Every few minutes he’d raise his thumb in a gesture of approval and say “Jakarta- good!” The nail on the end of his thumb was grotesquely long. His words had the effect of creating uncomfortable humor, though none was intended. Muffled techno music throbbed from the car’s cheap speakers.

The sun made a colorless descent; the grayness in the sky overwhelmed any oranges or yellows. It was evening- the apex of Jakarta’s protracted rush hour. The surge of cars, motorbikes and rickshaws was a disorderly, jagged flow, the roads felt ready to burst at their brittle seams. Massive intersections held no discernable set of directions, but were full of a tangled clump of vehicles jostling for space. There was no order, only conflicting destinations. While passing fetid canals lined with shanties, the traffic slowed to a crawl. It took more than fifteen minutes to cross a single bridge.

As we sat without moving, the driver looked dismayed and morosely said “Jakarta no good…I don’t money slow.” He spent his days driving back and forth between the city and the airport. The delays caused by traffic ate into his earnings. He eyed me and asked me about the hotel I would stay at and my plans for the evening in the nosey way many locals interact with travelers.

The day I arrived was the Friday before the beginning of Ramadan. That evening, I walked across central Jakarta to Masjid Istiqal, the biggest mosque in the region. It is an imposing structure, gold in color, occupying a large lot and surrounded by palm trees. The dome and minaret create a compelling silhouette when viewed against Jakarta’s late evening sky. Reams of worshippers were packing away their shoes at the building’s entrance as I approached.

As an inquisitive traveler, it’s necessary to sometimes stick one’s nose where it doesn’t belong. That’s exactly what I, as an unreligious Westerner, was doing by turning up in a mosque on one of the holiest days of the year.

After being warmly received by a man behind a counter who stored my shoes, I washed my feet among the faithful. It was obvious to all that I was out of place, but there was none of the implicit disapproval I’ve felt in such situations before. In making my way across the enormous complex, I walked barefoot as the sun sank beneath the horizon. The tiles underfoot retained some warmth from the sun in the fresh darkness of night.

I was asked several times if I was a Muslim and would truthfully answer “no.” There was no scorn or suspicion in how I was greeted. I was welcomed. Many even went out of their way to greet me. I sat down on the floor of an observation area two stories above the prayer floor.

I was overcome by the scale of what I observed, the thousands of worshippers in a building of such grandeur. They were divided by gender, a side for men, a side for women and, by consequence, children.

What followed was a set of moments I can’t describe. I have no affection for religion of any kind and while I don’t admire the worshippers at Masjid Istiqal for their piety, I couldn’t observe the events of that evening without emotion. I don’t see the power of this experience as evidence of beauty in Islam, but more as part of the incredibly welcoming and inclusive nature of Indonesian society.

Late on my second night, I was taken to a Jakarta neighborhood known as the golden triangle. It is the starkest illustration of the city’s inequality. It’s an area between three of the city’s major thoroughfares full of offices and upscale housing. It’s an enclave for the winners of globalization. While most of Indonesia remains desperately poor (unemployment is believed by some to be around 40%), there is a small, well-connected urban elite that has become rich since the economy was liberalized after the financial crisis of the late 1990’s.

From the 37^th floor of a luxury apartment, I looked upon a complex of high rises that house the city’s newly rich elite. The slums, which make up most of the city, aren’t visible in the darkness.

In spite of poverty, natural disaster, colonial interference, Indonesia is unified and infectiously positive. The warmth of the Indonesian people is incredible. I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived here but I didn’t expect this. I felt silly and gullible for arriving here with expectations that were so different from what I found.

Indonesia is challenging. I don't mean for that word to be read as "difficult", as it is often taken to mean. Indonesia challenges the preconceptions one arrives here with. Through its complexity it challenges visitors to attempt to formulate views that are more reflective of the country's reality. The conclusions reached are one's own and they likely differ from expectations.

Jakarta Animated

2009-08-31T19:43:00.002+09:00

As I walked from Jalan Jaksa in central Jakarta to Sunda Kelapa on the city's north side, people frequently stopped me and asked to have their picture taken.