Courtesy of Kim Seung-hyeon
David A. Tizzard
When we received a phone call saying that our son had broken his finger at Hapkido, we tensed up. My wife's usually calm countenance was replaced immediately by a worried look of anguish. Our children had suffered all sorts of bumps and scrapes but this was the first time we had encountered a broken bone. Luckily, Edward was fine. He was sat on a chair with his instructor waiting for us when we arrived. But it was what happened next that made me reconsider the ppali ppali (quick quick) culture that underpins much of modern Korea.
We took him to the hospital and, after only about 30 minutes, he had seen a doctor, had an x-ray, returned to the doctor, and then had a small support applied to his hand. Everything had been confirmed, recorded, and treated. Edward was disappointed that he would not be able to swim or play piano for a few weeks but the doctor encouraged him to walk and run outside instead. As we left the modern hospital replete with its state-of-the-art technology and hygiene, our bill came to just over 3,000 won (approximately $3).
The shock of having our son break a bone was immediately relieved by the fact that a few minutes later we were sat with him at home, not out of pocket, and fully informed as young parents what we were to do. My mind raced as to how the British NHS might have reacted to a young child with a broken finger. How quickly would we have got the x-rays and counselling? And then to the United States: how much would all that cost? I don't really know but I can't imagine it would have been a very nice bill to come home to.
And this is where Korea gets so many things right. Ppali ppali underpins much of the health system here. Yes, there will always be extreme cases, but for the most part, people expect results and action immediately. And they receive it. This mindset naturally extends beyond simply getting medical treatment. It filters through every layer of society, from food deliveries, office talk, to the ordering and buying of coffee. You will even hear foreigners, unable to speak much else of the language, say ppali ppali to each other. Older Koreans will type 82 82 in their text messages to convey the same meaning.
Culture Shock
It has long been known that you can never truly understand a culture until you have left it. Doing so provides a new paradigm with which to compare things: a different frame of reference so you can understand just how big, small, fast, or slow things actually are. The textbook example is of when you ask a fish how the water is and the fish replies, “What's water?” We can't see our own culture most of the time.
So when we travelled to Vietnam over the Chuseok holiday, we were able to see what a non ppali ppali culture was like in practice. Ordering a coffee meant sitting down and waiting ten minutes. Food took a long time. Cars crawled along the roads behind swarms of bikes at around 40 kilometers per hour. Everyone smiled, took their time, and went at a far slower pace than we were accustomed to. Essentially, you don't realize how quick Korean society is until you actually leave it. Until then, you become swept up in the whirlwind of speed and action.
Rush to Modernize
Ppali ppali is a modern phenomenon, however. And, it is a necessary one. It also applies to many other industrial societies around the world. Nevertheless, Korean history and culture is unique to this land and so it will bring with it certain idiosyncrasies. Because of imperialism, colonization and war, the country lost many of its opportunities to modernize slowly or alongside other western nations. It has always been playing catchup. When the specter of North Korean communism threatened to take over the land, there was a necessity to quickly build a nation capable of defending itself against the tanks and troops of Kim Il-sung. This was done through Park Chung-hee's New Village movement. When the Olympics were awarded to Seoul in 1981, the country had seven years to not only build a country that the outside world would consider developed, but also to remove the latest military dictator that had had hundreds of Korean people gunned down in the streets of Gwangju and install democracy in his place. The amazing thing is, they achieved this. Korea has always gone in head first simply because it hasn't had any other choice.
Following on from this, the country quickly dismantled much of his history and tradition and rushed to install modern buildings, practices, and behavior. Traditional wrestling gave way to baseball, Confucianism was replaced by Christianity. Hot dogs and hip hop became the sound of the city. Korea rapidly became something that the west could not only understand, but also something it desired. Something that was profitable, consumable, and perfect for the atomization and neo-liberalism of the modern age. But it wasn't always like this.
Traditional Slow Korea
Many early visitors to the Korean Peninsula decried the slowness of life. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. This was emphasized by a Confucian expression that said, “Noblemen do not run even when it rains.” Aristocratic life was leisurely and the yangban's hands were placed behind his back as he strolled the palaces. The language was also meant to be spoken in a long drawn out manner. The pansori and traditional court sounds centered on a musical bar of 12 beats rather than 4, with each season being reflected in 3 of these beats. Life was lived according to the rising and falling of the moon rather than a digital clock counting each second.
The philosopher Tak Seok-san has argued in his writing that the geographical conditions of the Korean Peninsula, with its narrow mountainous terrain and extreme seasonal changes, have given rise to a worldview in which a focus on speed was always likely to emerge. Tak suggests the four characteristics of the Korean people are secularism, life philosophy, nihilism, and pragmatism. The first places an emphasis on the reality of this world over the spiritual realm; the second lays a focus on the senses, believing pleasure comes before the law; the third tells us that everyone was born empty handed so it is better to just let go of things; the fourth advocates that anything is okay as long as it brings practical benefits. When this worldview came face-to-face with industrialization and neo-liberalism, there was only ever going to be one result. A society so fast they said it twice.
The loss of Yeoyu
In the previous article of this series, I explored yeoyu. This is a word used frequently by Koreans to describe (often in a negative sense) a state of material, temporal or spatial sufficiency. It means the time, space, and mental freedom to do something. Koreans are forever thinking of this because the necessary rise of modern ppali ppali culture has resulted in a loss of yeoyu. It is for this reason that monks, philosophers, and even musicians like Jang Gi-ha will advocate taking a slow walk just so you can avoid the speed of modern Korean culture and find some of that more traditional yeoyu in your life.
The two concepts of ppali ppali and yeoyu are in a constant dance with each other, chasing each other like the fish and dual opposites represented in the yin-yang. A balance is always required between the two: too much of one and we stagnate; an excess of the other and we suffocate. Korean bookstores and internet pages are thus filled with expressions seeking a "work-life balance." Though it is not always explicit, one might suggest that this task involves managing one's yeoyu with the ppali ppali system we inhabit here.
Convenience
The question that Korean people always have to contemplate is, “Is it worth it?” They have built a remarkable society in a short period of time and, in my mind, deserve far more praise for what they have achieved than many critics who often lack a historical perspective are willing to give them credit for. Nevertheless, alongside the speed of the hospitals, Edward's recovery, and the pace of the coffee, some citizens are slowly asking themselves “Is this the right way?” As always, I look forward to observing their answers and the next steps they take.
Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online.