Casey Lartigue Jr.

This year, I finally began saying "we" about the Korea Times newspaper. My association with the paper started in 2013 as a columnist, and in 2018, I added my "Workable Words" weekend blog to the mix.

Despite that, it wasn't until this past Thursday night at a dinner for columnists that I said "we" to Korea Times staffers. From the start of the dinner, I knew something had come over me. As I met newspaper executives, reporters, editors, and fellow columnists, I took a photo with each one. Most people who take photos with others at events typically wait until it is wrapping up, but it felt like a celebration for me, and the best time to celebrate is right now. The "me" had become "we."

I heard a story years ago about former boxer Muhammad Ali speaking at a Harvard commencement in the 1970s. Someone in the crowd allegedly called out for him to give them a poem. Without missing a beat, Ali responded with what may be the shortest poem in history: "Me, We."

In my career, there have been times when I've embraced "we" and other times I've been content with being "me."

Being a leader or creator often begins as a "me, myself and I" endeavor. When the organization survives, then there is often a founder's dilemma, where the organization's identity has become entwined with the founder's. As the organization grows, the founder may struggle to relinquish control.

As the co-founder, co-president, and chairman of Freedom Speakers International (FSI), it was "Me, We" from the beginning. Knowing about the founder's dilemma, I separated my own presence by avoiding posting on the organization's social media, I made it a priority to attend as many meetings as possible to learn lessons, and relinquished control over many parts of the organization. There is still plenty of "me," however. One day, when we were taking a group photo, I mentioned we needed a banner, and FSI co-founder Lee Eun-koo said, "Your face is the FSI banner."

As the co-country director of Giving Tuesday Korea, I also have a feeling of "Me, We." The parent organization, Giving Tuesday, put its trust in me and has patiently waited for us to develop our mission and activities. At some point, I may unleash "me" and truly find a way to raise awareness about the mission of spreading generosity.

Is longevity a factor in feeling "we" within a place or community? Years ago, during a round table discussion with author Michael Breen, he said "we" when talking about Korea. He first arrived in Korea in the early 1980s and has been here most of his life. I am not surprised when he and other Westerners here who have educated their children in the local schools, paid taxes for decades, and no longer have residence in their native countries call Korea "we."

How does responsibility influence a sense of "we"? I have taught public speaking at the Seoul University of Foreign Studies (SUFS) since 2017, but it's only recently that I've started feeling "we." This shift is mainly due to the way professors and students have embraced me. However, I still maintain boundaries. For example, when I'm in the classroom, I rarely take photos. I treat it as a serious, professional space. But when I arrange for guest lecturers, it's different. We take many photos together and it is a carefree mood.

The absence of a leadership role or specific accomplishments can limit a sense of "we." I have been on the board of directors of the Korea-America Association (KAA) for about four years. I am active but without any particular accomplishments to point to so far; perhaps that's why I don't say "we." Recently, I've gotten more active as a member of the editorial board, so things could change.

Similarly, I was on the board of trustees of the Frederick Douglass Memorial Historical Association for a dozen years but had no major achievements to note before I resigned in 2016.

Receiving an award can shift my feeling and connection to an organization, but often it requires more. The Hansarang Rural Cultural Foundation gave me a "Social Contribution" award in 2017, but I don't necessarily feel a strong "we" connection. In contrast, the Shin and Kim law firm gave Freedom Speakers International an award last week and has been collaborating with us since 2015. They regularly reach out, stay engaged, ask for updates, and even highlight us. They've made it clear that they see us as part of their community, and I feel a stronger sense of "we" with them.

When I was awarded Seoul Honorary Citizenship, my feeling about Seoul deepened, but not to the point of saying "we." Still, Seoul will always be special because it is incredible to be chosen by a city. With organizations like the Ministry of Unification and the Hana Foundation, however, I don't feel "we" at all, even though I have won awards from them. The organization Challenge Korea has given me two awards, but we are only in contact when they inform me that I have been nominated.

With Harvard University, though, I've felt "we" since I was first accepted. Unlike some Harvard students and graduates who mention feeling imposter syndrome and wonder if they are worthy, I always figured it was Harvard's problem if it made a mistake in accepting me (twice). Though I live in Seoul, I am active on the Alumni Council of the Harvard Graduate School of Education, mentor graduate students at Harvard, have given about 25 speeches at Harvard events, am an Alumni Admissions Ambassador, belong to four different Harvard Clubs in South Korea and the USA, etc. Although it has been decades since I was an executive editor on the Harvard Crimson newspaper, I visit it during every trip to Cambridge and have partnered with it recently. I may leave instructions in my will to be buried in my Harvard Crimson T-shirt along with my diplomas.

Through such experiences, I've noticed how the "me, we" connection varies.

Many activities are supported by those who pay or donate, but does that entitle them to say "we"? I was recently listening to a sports talk debate show when the announcers (including a former football player) debated with the other announcers and fans about when it is okay for fans to say "we." Fans often feel a sense of ownership over their team's success, proudly saying, "we won!" But when they encounter athletes, whether on the radio or in person, they code-switch to saying "you guys" or "the team."

It's similar with donors. I agree with those who say the donor is the hero because he or she makes the work of others possible. But donors aren't the ones on the ground doing the day-to-day work. So, should they say "we"?

Financing or supporting an activity doesn't always mean entitlement to say "we" They weren't in any planning meetings, didn't come up with any strategy, and weren't directly involved, but proclaim, "We did it!"

On the other hand, there are some situations where paying or donating doesn't entitle anyone to claiming credit. When an airplane lands, passengers don't stand up and shout, "we did it!" They recognize that the pilots and crew did the work. But later, they can say, "We had a great flight." Some will even critically critique the landing.

Two of my favorite quotes that have stuck with me come from ideological opposites. Ayn Rand, a leading intellectual for capitalism, would often say, "the smallest minority on earth is the individual."

Socialist activist Emma Goldman has been attributed with saying, "If I can't dance, then I don't want to be part of your revolution."

In my case, only after there is a "me" can there be a "we." Living in Korea, there is often a "we" before there is a "me." Things have changed somewhat, but this is still the country of "the nail that sticks out must be hammered down." I was once advised by a South Korean influencer who cautioned me against being too visible in Korea. He warned that people would question my motives and even suspect me of misusing donations. Despite this advice, I chose to be public, and gave up control over the organization's budget. If I can't be "me," then there would be no "we" of Freedom Speakers International as I have designed it.

So how did I choose to be "me" at the dinner for Korea Times columnists? When it was my turn to introduce myself, I didn't stand near my seat as the others did. I walked to the front of the room and stood under the Korea Times banner as I spoke. It was "me, we."

When it came time for the group photo, I waited for them to take the official photo their way. After that, I pulled up a chair and took a seat in front. I was sitting, but Emma Goldman style, I was dancing as the photographer snapped photos and my colleagues at the Korea Times cheered.

Casey Lartigue Jr. (CJL@alumni.harvard.edu) is the co-founder of Freedom Speakers International with Lee Eun-koo and co-author with Han Song-mi of her memoir "Greenlight to Freedom: A North Korean Daughter's Search for Her Mother and Herself."