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I have to admit that I am surprised at the groundswell of outrage that seemed to take over the Korean society against recently appointed Minister of Justice Cho Guk's alleged hypocrisy. More specifically, outrage against how his daughter managed to do a student internship at a medical lab and be listed as the primary author on a paper that was published in a respected medical journal, which she supposedly used to enhance her college application.
Then there was the matter of how his daughter received a commendation (accused of being a forgery by her mother) for voluntary work that she used to get into college. Another one was how she received scholarships even though she never applied for them.
I would have thought that the allegations surrounding the hush-hush family investment fund when Cho was serving as a senior official in the Blue House would have been tastier fodder for the public's appetite. But, no. Cho's confirmation hearing was all about how his daughter managed to get into a top university based on privileged access.
This was the issue that sparked the most outrage: how a rich girl used her parents' connections to receive a leg up in getting into a prestigious university. The level of moral outrage seemed almost pornographic in its indulgence across the whole swath of Korean society. It wasn't just the elderly, flag-waving warriors of the right. This was students waving their candles again.
Therein lies the unholy peculiarity of modern-day South Korea: the disproportionate influence that graduates of Seoul National, Yonsei, and Korea University wield in Korean society. It's not an overstatement to say that acceptance into one of these universities ― appropriately termed SKY ― would have a definitive impact on your future socioeconomic standing. It's also no wonder, then, this state of affairs incentivizes the parents to do everything in their power to ease their children's entrance into what amounts to a guaranteed road to success.
Since the number of students in SKY is limited, this naturally leads to an ever-increasing competition to get into these schools, with the parents' respective status and connections becoming the arbitrator of whether an applicant gets in or not. This was especially the case when Cho's daughter was applying to colleges when more weight was given to the totality of an applicant's portfolio of achievements than the score on the dreaded national college entrance examination.
In short, what should have been a level-field, merit-based criteria for entrance to SKY ― and consequently lifelong opportunity for success ― has been in effect transformed into a system of inheritance of privilege in which the well-to-dos can pass down their privilege by giving their children an unsurmountable lead in getting into SKY. The schools have become an insulated and inaccessible castle of the new aristocracy.
This isn't anything new or surprising. It's Economics 101. Scarcity will lead to competition to obtain that which is scarce ― in this case, access to SKY ― with people using whatever means necessary to win the competition. At the same time, Korea's narrative has always been that you can overcome scarcity by giving something up and sacrificing in order to obtain the scarce resource. In other words, give up your childhood to study hard to score high enough on the exam to get into SKY. Well, the story of Cho's daughter once again showed that this story no longer holds.
The extra outrage came from the fact that people thought Cho was one of them. People expected the conservative rich and powerful to already act this way. However, Cho was supposed to be their champion for justice and fairness. He talked the talk. But he wasn't walking the walk. And the people raged.
But I can't help feeling that the rage isn't more of a schadenfreude rather than purely moral outrage in the pursuit of justice. While it's true that we all feel self-righteous and happy when bad behavior is publicly punished, Cho's case seems more akin to the "tall poppy syndrome."
According to Big Think, "the tall poppy syndrome is often referenced in the United Kingdom and Australia. It's informally defined as "a perceived tendency to discredit or disparage those who have achieved notable wealth or prominence in public life. Cultures or people that resent high-status individuals feel good when misfortune is brought down upon them. If an individual's status gets too high, they may be targeted by the tall poppy syndrome. Then if they're knocked back down to size, people will feel schadenfreude at their resulting downfall."
Further, schadenfreude is often rooted in envy in wanting to see the rich and famous experience a downfall. Since we inevitably view our status in relation to others', a prominent person's misstep becomes a cause for pleasure, albeit a guilty one. Sure, we package our little meanness by expressing righteous anger and paying lip-service to justice, but how many Korean parents would say "no" to their children getting into SKY? Candlelit vigils don't automatically make the cause noble or selfless.
Who was it that spoke about casting the first stone? Just saying.
Jason Lim (jasonlim@msn.com) is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture.
