The Sewol Tragedy: Part I - The Accident

[Series Index]

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To be completely honest, I really did not want to write this post. I do not want to re-live this awful tragedy, seeing again what I saw, hearing again what I heard. Writing this post was greatly upsetting. Many times, I had to stop, take a deep breath, scream in anger, or clench my teeth before I could continue writing.

But I cannot possibly write another post about Korea without addressing this terrible accident. More than 300 lives, most of them young students, perished in an entirely preventable accident. This story needs to be told, and not in the manner of the disgusting disaster porno put on by cable television news.

So here it is: a summary of the most relevant information regarding the sinking of Sewol. This summary will be in three parts:  (1) description of the accident and the rescue efforts; (2) causes and contributing factors of the accident, and; (3) political and social reactions from Korea.

THE ACCIDENT

Who and what were involved in the accident?

The Sewol was a cruise/ferry ship that traveled between Incheon, a port city near Seoul, and Jeju-do, a tropical resort island. The ship was carrying 476 passengers, as well as several trucks and container cargoes. Vast majority of the passengers--325 to be exact--were second grade students from Danwon High School, a high school in Ansan, a suburb of Seoul. 

Inside of the Sewol. Photo was taken the day before the accident.
(source)

Because Korean high schools have three grades, the second grade students are equivalent of juniors in American high schools, i.e. between 16 and 17 years old. Korean high schools usually go on one long school trip per year involving all students in the same grade. As Ansan is a working class neighborhood, the students tended to be from blue collar families. 

How did the ship begin to sink?

The travel by ferry between Incheon and Jeju is approximately 13.5 hours. The ship had traveled overnight, and entered the western shore of Jindo island, nearly at the southwestern tip of Korean Peninsula.

At 8:49 a.m. of April 16, 2014, the ship made a sharp turn, turning more than 10 degrees within one second, according to the ship's Blackbox. Immediately, the ship began to list due to the sharp turn. There are reasons to believe that the ship had an imbalanced construction, and the cargo was not properly secured. It appears likely that the cargo shifted to one side, causing the ship to list and sink. More on this in the next part of the summary.

When did the authorities first learn the accident?

At 8:52 a.m., the first report of emergency came out of the Sewol--not from the ship's crew, but from a student on board calling 119 (equivalent to 911 in the U.S.) In a couple of minutes, the student was connected to the Coast Guard. (The student, named Choi Deok-ha [최덕하], was found dead.) In response, at 8:58 a.m., the Coast Guard station in the nearby port city of Mokpo dispatched the first rescue team.

At 8:55 a.m., the Sewol's captain Lee Jun-seok [이준석] communicated to the Vessel Transportation Service (VTS) station in Jeju that the ship was listing and sinking. (Note, however, that the nearest VTS station was at Jindo, not Jeju. More on this later.) At 9:10 a.m., the Coast Guard headquarters formed a rescue central. At 9:31 a.m., President Park Geun-hye was notified.

How did the ship's crew respond to the accident? How did the passengers respond?

The ship's crew, particularly the captain, responded with grievous, deadly incompetence. It is probably fair to say that the incompetence by the captain and the senior crew members bears the majority of the blame in letting this incident escalate from an expensive accident to a horrific, full-scale disaster.

As soon as the Jindo VTS station established contact with the Sewol, the VTS repeatedly asked the captain whether the passengers were able to escape. In a reply that is almost certainly a lie, the captain replied they could not. At 9:25 a.m., approximately 30 minutes after the ship began to sink, Jindo VTS station ordered the captain in unequivocal terms: have the passengers put on life jackets, and evacuate the ship. Inexplicably, the captain did nothing, telling the Jindo VTS that the ship's PA system did not work. This was a lie, as the PA system was completely functional at the time. Jindo VTS again told the captain to do what he could to evacuate the ship. The captain, again, does nothing. At 9:33 a.m., Jindo VTS station orders the captain to release all emergency floats from the ship. The captain, again, does nothing other than to keep telling the VTS station to send rescue boats as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, manning the PA system in the lower deck were junior crew members, who continuously asked the bridge if they should evacuate the ship. The bridge, where the captain was, did not respond. Without information, the crew followed the manual and repeatedly told the passengers to stay in their rooms.

Park Ji-yeong, one of the Sewol's heroes
(source)

When the first responders arrived at 9:30 a.m., 22-year-old Park Ji-yeong [박지영], 28-year-old Jeong Hyeon-seon [정현선] and 45-year old Yang Dae-hong [양대홍], all of whom are crew members, directed all passengers they saw to get out of the ship. Realizing that there was no PA announcement, Park rushed to the PA system and ordered the passengers to jump into the water--at 10:15 a.m. Unfortunately, this was far too late, as the port side (left side) of the ship was already fully under water by 9:54 a.m. Once submerged, the passengers in the port side cabins were doomed.

Park and Jeong were later found dead; Yang is still missing. Surviving students recall that Park saved many students by putting on life jackets on them and pushing them upstairs. When the students asked if Park wasn't leaving, she replied: "The crew has to stay until the end." Before returning to rescue, Yang telephoned his wife and said:  "the ship listed a lot. Use the money in the bank account for the children's tuition. I have to go save the students."

According to survivors, many students gave their lives trying to save each other, or to save little children. A six year old boy put a life jacket on his five year old sister, and told her that he was going to find his parents. The five-year-old was rescued; the boy, and his parents, are missing. Danwon high school student Jeong Cha-ung [정차웅], a blackbelt holder in kendo and the first confirmed casualty from the Sewol, perished after giving up his life jacket to a friend and trying to save more. According to surviving students, two of Danwon high school teachers, 36-year-old Nam Yoon-cheol and 24-year-old Choi Hye-jeong, each saved at least 10 students before succumbing to the rising water.

(More after the jump)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Wait, go back. What the hell was the captain and the senior crew doing during all that time? Why were they lying to the Vessel Traffic Service?

For now, we cannot be certain. One tidbit, however, is revealing: between 9 a.m. and 9:37 a.m., the captain and the crew spoke on the phone with the ferry company's headquarters six times. Police investigation is heavily focused on what was said in these communications.

How effective was the first response?

The first responders, consisting of two boats and two helicopters, did their best given the circumstances. -EDIT 2015/04/15- Because of the additional facts uncovered since the accident, the preceding clause is not true. For additional context, please refer to this update post.

The first rescue team, dispatched by the Mokpo Coast Guard station, arrived at the scene by 9:30 a.m. and began taking people off the ship by 9:35 a.m. Jindo VTS also ordered the nearby ships to join the rescue effort at 9:30 a.m.

Then the now-infamous moment occurred: Lee Jun-seok, the captain, was one of the first to escape. Critically, the captain left the ship without announcing to the passengers and other crew members to abandon ship or deploying the life boats. In a case of stomach-turning injustice, the captain and the crew arrived at the port of Jindo by 10:30 a.m., only moments after the ship sank.

Video of the crew escaping before the passengers

Though the first rescue team arrived as quickly as it could, it was already too late. The first responders did not have adequate equipment to rescue the passengers who were trapped inside the ship. Korean Navy responded, but its ship did not arrive until 10:21 a.m.--when the Sewol was mostly underwater. A ship with rescue divers did not arrive until 11:24 a.m., four minutes after the ship sank completely.

At 10:06 a.m., the Coast Guard saw passengers screaming inside a ship's cabin. The Coast Guard broke the window, and rescued seven passengers from inside the cabin. Those seven were the only ones rescued from inside the ship. Many of the passengers who were trapped inside the ship were not able to escape, even as they were watching the rescue boats outside. The students of Danwon high school took the worst end of it, as most of them were in the lower decks of the ship where the fare was cheaper.

How many survived?

In the end, 174 out of the 476 survived. Out of the 325 students of Danwon high school, only 75 survived. Although there was faint hope that rescue divers may be able to save at least a few trapped inside the ship, the survivor count did not go up after the first day of the accident.

Part II will discuss the causes and contributing factors for the accident. If you have a burning question regarding this tragedy, please email and I will consider adding to this post, or addressing in the later parts.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

#NotYourMascot, and Why You Should Care

Normally, I make it my practice to silently observe the discussion involving other social groups of America. The reason for this is simple: it is important for each social group to speak with its own voice. Even if I wanted to help, it is the better habit to refrain. I have seen too many cases in which good intentions were translated into stumbling, inartful words, setting back the agenda rather than advancing it. That was not going to be me.

Despite those reservations, I feel compelled to speak out in solidarity for the movement against having a racial slur, i.e. "Redskins," as the name of an NFL franchise. I feel the compulsion for two reasons. First, I am a sports fan and a resident of the Washington D.C. area, which makes the name of the local franchise more relevant than those living outside of the region who don't care about sports. Second, I am an Asian American, and I have been mired in the ill-advised hashtag campaign from a few weeks ago that distracted the national attention away from this important issue. Though I have been speaking out on the stupidity of the hashtag campaign, it is undeniable that I, too, contributed to the distraction.

How shall I express my solidarity with the campaign against "Redskins," without running afoul of my personal rule that I should not speak on behalf of others? Answer: I can speak about my own experience, which points toward the same result. Here is my attempt at doing so.

*               *               *

I am a first generation immigrant, having emigrated from Korea to Los Angeles area in 1997. I will not bore you with the sob stories about my adjustment into American life at age 16, since I have already done that in this space already. It would enough to say that, the first year of my American life was defined largely by loneliness. In Seoul, I lived in the same neighborhood throughout my childhood. I had a close group of friends who attended the same elementary school, same middle school and same high school. The move to U.S. was the first major move I remember--and it had to be across the Pacific, in a new land where no one wanted to talk to the new kid who spoke broken English.

(More after the jump)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

But it did not take long for me to realize that, in America, there is a shortcut to forming a closer relationship with a total stranger. In Los Angeles, the shortcut came in the names of Dodgers and Lakers. I have always been a sports fan, watching baseball and basketball in Korea before I moved. The Lakers, in particular, had just drafted an exciting young rookie named Kobe Bryant. I watched the emergence of a legend with rapt attention.

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"Lakers." "Kobe." I soon found out those were magic words. Hearing those words was an open invitation to everyone within the earshot to jump into the conversation. It is perhaps one of the few instances of American social etiquette in which it is rarely rude to jump into the conversation between total strangers. Say the magic words, and a conversation developed instantly, if only because some stranger was guaranteed to jump into the conversation. It did not matter that I was an awkward FOB with broken English. The congregation for the church of basketball can happen anywhere, and all those who followed the sport were equal participants.

The idea that pro sports in America promote social cohesion is hardly new. Less appreciated, however, is just how special pro sports can be to new immigrants and racial minorities. Jay Caspian Kang put it perfectly:

[M]y own stake in baseball comes from the fact that I am the foreign-born child of Korean immigrants, and that sometimes finding acceptance in this country is as simple as shouting out in a crowded bar that you know who started each game of the 1986 World Series because you, like the rest of the people there, watched every game on TV and talked about it the next day at school.

Immigrant Misappropriations: the Importance of Ichiro [Grantland]

The word "acceptance" is the key. For all the claims of color-blindedness, there is an instinctive filter between people of different color and culture that makes the person in front of them not an individual, but a scale model of the various stereotypes we hold. Much like Christianity claims to work more for the meek and the downtrodden, the magic of professional sports--America's civic religion--works more for immigrants and racial minorities. Talk about the 1986 World Series, Derek Fisher's miraculous 0.4 second shot, or 17-1 Patriots and the Helmet Catch, and the filter disappears as if by miracle. Invoke the incantations, and one can instantly regain one's humanity in the eyes of others. 

Which brings us to the Washington Redskins.

Here is something that one can only learn through experience: a group eventually comes to take on the character of the core around which the group has coalesced. The name of your sports teams matters, because the value embedded in the names will seep into the fandom. This truth can only be learned through experience because it is purely inductive. There may not be a logical compulsion leading to this conclusion, but the entire human experience is behind it.

Los Angeles sports fans are notorious for being nonchalant about their teams. This is neither correct nor fair; visit the playoff games for the Dodgers or the Lakers, and the error of that notion will be made self-evident. But the notion does have a grain of truth, in this sense: Los Angeles sports fans realize that, ultimately, sports are not THAT important. Angelenos are not like Midwesterners, whose collective mood swings wildly depending on the performance of the Green Bay Packers or the Chicago Bears that week. And one cannot help but realize that the absurd names of the LA sports teams--Lakers, Dodgers--contributes to the mindset peculiar to the LA sports fans. There is no lake in Los Angeles to speak of, and there is no trolley to dodge in the streets. Saying those names as one talks about pro sports makes one realize that, at the end of the day, pro sports in America is a giant inside joke and we are all just playing along. This allows LA fans to become a bit more detached from their sports teams, allowing them to ration their emotion until they liberally spend it in the important moments that count.

Names matter, because the values behind them reach out and touch us. Another Washington sports team had already recognized this and changed its name. Washington Bullets, one of the oldest NBA franchises, changed its 34-year-old name to Washington Wizards in 1997, as the team owner Abe Pollan felt that it was inappropriate to have a team called "the bullets" in what was then-murder capital of America. I wonder why Dan Snyder could not learn from Pollan's example.

There should be no serious debate that the name "Redskins" is noxious. It makes a racial slur appear normal. It reduces living, breathing humans into a permanent stereotype, which is then printed on uniforms, caps, t-shirts and flags that become ubiquitous in our living spaces. That Redskins is by far the most popular sports team in the Washington D.C. area should be worrisome. That Asian Americans of this area (recall that D.C.-Maryland-Virginia metro area has the nation's third largest Korean American concentration) would use "Redskins" as the magic word to gain acceptance in the mainstream society should be even more worrisome. 

In the end, we become the air we breathe. Use poison as a building block of our identity, and we ourselves become poisonous. Pro sports matters more to Asian Americans. This is why we should care about this issue.

Got a question or comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

How to Make it in America with Music

Dear Korean,

I'd love to hear your opinion on what it would take for a Korean or Korean-American act to "make it" in the US music industry. You could answer that from a macro (shifts in music business corporate strategies, national news outlet coverage) or micro (would the act have to have certain characteristics, would the songs have to be in a certain genre) perspective. I think it is without question there is original, vibrant talent originating or having origins from South Korea. Talent that if all other things were equal, would easily go toe-to-toe with American pop talent and be equally represented. 

Jason J.

This is a question that the Korean intended to answer as a final wrap-up for SXSW, until the #CancelColbert hashtag war occupied the attention of everyone on the Internet. Better late than never, so here it is. By the way, did the Korean mention that SXSW was freakin' awesome, and everyone should go? Just in case people missed it: SXSW is incredible, and everyone should go. It's absolutely amazing.

Jambinai's performance at Spider House.
TK's favorite picture from SXSW.

Truth is, TK answered this question in previous posts, albeit somewhat obliquely. (Here and here.) To make the point more directly, the Korean believes that the "mainstream-ization" of Korean pop music in the United States will take place in several stages:

First, there needs to be a dedicated group of Korean pop music fanatics, who would serve as the log-rollers of a larger trend. Every band needs that snotty group of fans that says: "I was into them before they became big." The Korean jests, but the role of the enthusiastic early adopters is critical. They act as the constantly-burning pilot light, ready to ignite the trend as soon as the atmosphere is correct. 

It took a better part of a decade for K-pop to build this infrastructure in the United States. But from his experience at SXSW, the Korean is convinced that this infrastructure is now firmly in place. K-Pop Night Out was one of the most successful showcases at SXSW, and the people came out not just for Jay Park and HyunA, but for Crying Nut and Idiotape. Seoulsonic showcase had so many non-Koreans speaking fluent Korean, chatting excitedly about Glen Check. The only other place where I saw that many non-Koreans speaking fluent Korean was at a high-brow diplomatic function Washington D.C. Even in San Antonio, a smaller city that one would not readily associate with Korean pop music fandom, drew a solid crowd for a Sunday night show. Separately from SXSW, Dynamic Duo's recent showcase at the Kennedy Center drew at least 500 spectators, half of whom were not Korean but screaming as loudly as any other. The early adopters are already here.

Second, there needs to be a baseline of respect for Korean pop music among the movers and shakers of America's music industry. This, in fact, was a crucial component for Gangnam Style's success. Many consider Gangnam Style to have come out of nowhere, like a strike of lightning out of a clear blue sky. Not so. This graph is worth revisiting:

This graph, from a study that YG Entertainment commissioned, shows the interplay between the log rollers and the power brokers of American pop music. Numerous log rollers, chief among them Allkpop, promoted Gangnam Style's music video through its Twitter. Rapper T-Pain had enough baseline respect for Korean pop music to pay attention when enough log rollers became excited about Gangnam Style. T-Pain took the time to look at PSY's music video, and promoted to other industry insiders. The rest, as they say, is history.

In the Korean's estimation, this stage is partially constructed for Korean pop music. Korea's idol groups are the farthest along. Lady Gaga's recent pick of Crayon Pop to open her shows this summer is but one piece of evidence. Among the powers that be of American pop music, Korean idol groups are taken seriously. 

Korean rock and hip hop acts are trailing behind. Korean rock suffers from fighting in a crowded field; as delightful as listening to, say, Deli Spice is, there is simply no shortage of U2-inspired modern rock bands in the U.S. market. Even so, certain Korean rock bands manage to find an angle that is not sufficiently explored in the U.S. rock scene--for example, Jambinai with Korean traditional instruments or Glen Check's sophisticated synth-rock. Hip hop will probably have the toughest time, as the audience for hip hop tends to care a great deal about (perceived) authenticity. Unfortunately, to many U.S. hip hop fans, an Asian face does not scream "THUG LIFE." 

Third, the interplay between the first and the second stages results in a sizable corps of fan base. This group would be much, much larger than the log rollers in the first stage. Their interest in Korean pop music would not be as rabid as the log rollers', but they care enough to continuously purchase albums and attend concerts once in a while, to the extent Korean acts tour in the United States. Ideally, this group will be large enough for Korean bands to continue directing at least some effort toward the U.S., in the form of making their music available in the U.S. (via, for example, YouTube and iTunes) and putting on regular tours. Likewise ideally, this group will be large enough that, when an American person says "I listen to Korean pop music," it would be received as if she said "I like listening to classical music" rather than "I listen to radio static to find signs of life from outer space."

If Korean pop music gets to this point, the Korean would consider Korean pop music to have "made it" in the U.S. market. One has to be reasonable: Korean pop music is not of the U.S., and it is highly unlikely that Korean pop music will be a perennial presence in Billboard top 5. Much more attainable is the level at which the quality of Korean pop music is widely known, such that it is accepted as a legitimate preference of pop music among many. Korea's idol pop is at the cusp of getting to this place; other genres of K-pop have a longer way to go.

Then there is the fourth and final stage:  a viral, mainstream-ized hit a la Gangnam Style, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as if by magic. But of course, nothing cultural comes out of nowhere--each viral hit is a sudden unleashing of pent-up cultural accumulation. As the base of K-pop appreciation becomes wider and deeper, the interval between new viral hits will become shorter and shorter.

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

Against Hashtag Warriors: Their Arguments and Why They are Wrong

For the last week, I have had a chance to survey the landscape of opinions regarding the #CancelColbert campaign. Here are the major arguments in favor of the hashtag war, and why they are wrong.

- The Main Argument:  "Regardless of what Stephen Colbert intended, the use of the phrase "ching chong ding dong" is reminiscent of the racism that Asian Americans face. (In other words, it is "triggering".) To remind Asian Americans of racism in such a manner is insensitive and racist."

This is the crux of the #CancelColbert supporters' argument. Note that, under this argument, context in which the phrase is said does not matter, and neither does intent. Whenever the phrase is said, it triggers. Whenever the sound of the phrase is heard, it is racist. This is "magic word racism," pure and simple: if you say the word X, no matter what the circumstance, you are being racist.

#CancelColbert was not a worthy effort in large part because it is just another rendition of the magic word racism. I made this point previously, but it bears repeating and amplifying: magic word racism causes real harm. It distracts the attention from racism's core, which resides in the heart rather than words. Magic word racism lends support to, for example, the incessant whining about why black people get to say "n-----" but not white people. (If word itself is the problem, why do some people get to say it?)

Only by being sensitive to context and intent can one avoid the pitfalls of magic word racism, but #CancelColbert demands that we look away from the context.

- The "What About Black People?" Argument:  "Stephen Colbert wouldn't use African Americans as a topic and use the n-word, would he? So why is it ok for him to use Asian Americans and 'ching chong?'"

This argument, again, displays lack of consideration toward context--in this case, a historical and social one. To state plainly, Asian Americans are not African Americans, and "ching chong" is not "n-----". Historically, we Asian Americans never experienced anything close to what African Americans experienced on account of our race. Even the darkest moments of Asian American history--Chinese Exclusion Acts, the World War II Internment, Vincent Chin--are not comparable to slavery, mass rape and lynching that African Americans historically endured. Currently, Asian Americans are not experiencing a comparable level of discrimination to which African Americans are subjected. There is no stop-and-frisk program targeting Asian Americans. There is no current Asian American equivalent of Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis.

Are African Americans accorded greater deference in the media than Asian Americans are? Yes, and rightly so, considering the historical and contemporary context. Black folks has gone through more shit, and are going through more shit, than Asian Americans have and are. To give African Americans a bit more breathing room is the right thing to do.

Critics of Colbert have argued that Stephen Colbert should not be allowed to try and support one minority group (Native Americans) by using another (Asian Americans) as a prop. But when they raise this argument, it is the critics who use the African Americans as a stepladder. 

(More after the jump.)

Got a question or a comment for the Korean? Email away at askakorean@gmail.com.

- The "We are Getting Racist Attacks!" Argument:  "Suey Park received an avalanche of genuinely racist attacks, even death threats. If the Colbert Report is not racist, why do racists support it so extremely?"

This is frivolous. We are talking about the Internet, in which racism and death threats may as well be the wind and the rain. Thoughtful reactions count; crazy ones do not. That an argument attracts a lot of crazy reaction does nothing to support the initial argument.

If this is not obvious, consider this. Before Suey Park, another Asian American woman was subject to vile racism and death threats due to her outspoken position. Her name? Amy Chua. The amount of racist bile that Chua received after her Tiger Mother article was no less than Park's share. Now, ask yourself: did your opinion Amy Chua and the Tiger Mother theory change because of the racist attacks against Amy Chua? The only honest answer is "no." Same is true here.

- The "We Didn't Really Mean 'Cancel'" Argument:  "The word 'cancel' in #CancelColbert was a rallying slogan rather than a literal demand. Why do people focus on 'cancel' rather than focus on the real issue: the Colbert Report's racism against Asian Americans?"

Fundamentally, the answer is this: because there was no racism against Asian Americans in Colbert's joke. "Magic word racism" is not a valid approach, and it is not convincing to say that simply saying the word automatically equals racism.

But even one sets that aside, this is a strange argument. Suddenly, it is the #CancelColbert supporters who are calling for people to get past the semantics and focus on the intent behind the literal meaning of the words. Why can't they apply the same standard for Colbert's joke? If one can say "cancel" without actually conveying the meaning of the word "cancel," is it so inconceivable that a satirical comedian can say "ching chong" without conveying racism?

In an interview with the New Yorker, Suey Park claims that she had to go over top to make a point: “There’s no reason for me to act reasonable, because I won’t be taken seriously anyway. So I might as well perform crazy to point out exactly what’s expected from me.” 

This claim does not pass the laugh test. Suey Park is already an established writer of international fame, having recently come off of the very successful #NotYourAsianSidekick campaign. Park was already at a point where she could get herself published on a major platform at any time she wanted. (And she did, as she published a more detailed explanation of #CancelColbert campaign on the Time magazine.) If she did feel offended by Colbert's joke, Park would have had plenty of audience without having to "perform crazy." But she chose otherwise, harming others in the process. (More on this below.)

- The "But My Feelings!" Argument:  "Regardless of Stephen Colbert's intent, the phrase 'ching chong' really is triggering to a lot of Asian Americans, causing them to feel alienated from their country. Why is this so objectionable?"

It is objectionable because the #CancelColbert supporters are not simply expressing their feelings; they are calling for the cancellation of the Colbert Report.

Let me be clear: one has a right to feel anything and everything, no matter how frivolous and irrational. Such little irrationalities are important, as they may well be what makes us individuals. Who are we if not a collection of our random characteristics? Likewise, one has a right to express those feelings and discuss them among like-minded people. This is how, for example, great novelists make their names. Those feelings are valid, and so are the expression of those feelings.

However, arguments for a collective action are not like emotions unique to each individual. There is a threshold one must meet before one can persuasively demand another to cater to one's emotions. There really is a line that separates serious arguments from frivolous ones, strong arguments from untenable ones. The precise location of that line may be difficult to nail down, but there should be little dispute that disproportionately shrill reaction to a nonexistent offense falls on the wrong side of that line.

For that reason, #CancelColbert is on the wrong side of that line. It decries racism where there is none, and demands extreme measures to that fictional racism. The argument is indefensible.

- The "What's it to You?" Argument:  "Call me shrill, oversensitive, annoying, a social justice misanthrope without a sense of humor.  . . .  If I’m overreacting then why are you still bothered by it?"

Above are the words of Shawna F., who emailed me for my take. 

The #CancelColbert movement bothers me because it causes several concrete harms.

First, #CancelColbert is based on "magic word racism," which causes harm. It urges people to put a blindfold over themselves, so that they may ignore the intent behind words. Magic word racism does nothing to fight the actual racism, which resides in the intent. Instead, it encourages a version of racism that eschews those magic words while discriminating in a more subtle, insidious manner. Worse, it may be used as a cudgel to deprive self-determination from racial minorities. (E.g. "If whites cannot say the n-word, neither can blacks!")

Second, #CancelColbert distracts from the ongoing, severe issue that Stephen Colbert intended to highlight: the continuing insult to Native Americans in the form of a name of a major NFL franchise. 

Some have objected to this point by claiming that advocacy is not a zero-sum game. I beg to differ: public attention is a finite thing. If it were not, the people and entities who feed on public attention--political parties, media, writers, entertainers--would not be spending the money and effort to get themselves in front of people, trying to get their voice heard. If one topic becomes large enough, it does displace others from the minds of the public.

Do you think listening to the harmed party is important? Then listen to the Native Americans, who are rightly aggrieved that the movement against the offensive racial slur was hijacked by this stupid campaign. As an Asian American and a D.C.-area resident, I am mortified.

Third, #CancelColbert debases the legitimate battles that Asian Americans fight against media bias. There truly are worthy battles to fight in this area, and this hashtag war made a mockery of it.

Credibility is a precious thing: once you lose it, it is exceedingly difficult to regain it. Call this "respectability politics" if you want. All I know is what I have learned by being a licensed advocate my entire adult life: if you don't have credibility, you are finished. You are a Cassandra, over whose words the "mute" switch is on. The #CancelColbert supporters love to talk about how their viewpoint is "silenced." But when you destroy your own credibility, you are silencing yourself.

I am not optimistic that mainstream America would be so discerning to distinguish #CancelColbert from other, more worthwhile fight against media bias in the future conducted by Asian Americans. This hashtag war incurred a cost, and Asian American activists in the future will have to pay it down the line.

Fourth, #CancelColbert divides the Asian American community.

Let me be clear on this point: in certain contexts (hey, there's that word again,) speaking of an "Asian American community" is fallacious. Asian Americans are a hugely diverse group, within which there are a number of different ethnicity, languages, food, custom, socio-economic status, etc. Accordingly, there are many issues regarding which the Asian American community does not speak with one voice, nor should it. 

Media bias against Asian Americans is not one of those issues. Just in case the #CancelColbert folks still don't get it: no one disputes that there is bias against Asian Americans in the media. There truly are worthy battles to fight in this issue. Just to give a few examples: a troubling lack of Asian Americans in the lead role; stereotypical, two-dimensional Asian characters; cultural appropriation and debasement; whitewashing an Asian story or an Asian character. The list can go on.

Addressing this bias helps all Asian Americans, not just a select few. Media representation of Asian Americans will influence the perception of all Asian Americans, not just Asian American men or Asian Americans who are higher on the socio-economic ladder. This is an issue that ought not cause a split among Asian Americans.

Yet here we are. #CancelColbert has created a schism among Asian Americans. For example, there is now a hashtag civil war among Asian Americans, as those who disagree with Suey Park's tactics have begun a new hashtag campaign called #BuildDontBurn. As I wrote in the previous post on this topic, this is what happens when one chooses an unworthy battle to fight. A large swath of Asian Americans (by my count, the majority) simply cannot sign onto the argument that Stephen Colbert was being racist with that joke, because he was not. 

A large part of the blame for this must rest the feet of Suey Park and her coterie, and the take-no-prisoners tactic that they employ in their hashtag war. To this group, respectful dissent is a foreign concept. When a Native American activist complained that #CancelColbert was distracting from the original issue, Suey Park and her gang bullied her into silence. Any Asian American who disagreed with Park's message or tactics was branded as an Uncle Tom. Jeff Yang, journalist for the Wall Street Journal and arguably the most high-profile Asian American dissenter, was called "Asian in yellow face" and "merkin for the white man." In a height of irony, a white man who is friends with Suey Park called me a "white supremacist", apparently because I did not listen to the white man's directive that I should feel offended, even though I am not.

Juliet Shen, a co-activist for the #NotYourAsianSidekick campaign with Park, was not spared from this flame war. Her description of Suey Park's gang is enough to make one at a loss for words:

Let’s call this what it is: cyberbullying. I’m not saying it’s Suey, but I am saying that it’s her followers. There is a large group of people who have created an echo chamber that repeatedly enables and reinforces bad behavior. Harassment. Stalking. Name-calling. Character assassination. Misinformation. Emotional manipulation. Propaganda. This isn’t calling people out for racist, sexist, homophobic behavior — it’s using these terms so freely that we lose sight of the actual racists and sexists and bigots. It’s hurling the term gaslighting so often at other people and inaccurately while actually gaslighting the same people. I think that there are a lot of people who follow Suey for her politics while not knowing her tactics. I’d probably do the same if I wasn’t aware of the way she treated people. 

I guess this all leads to one question: what now? I’m still hesitant and I’m still scared. I don’t want to post anything and I don’t want to write about politics or feminism or racism. I have seriously considered going completely offline, just getting a job, moving to California, and pretending there aren’t a million things I want to say about the institutional and individual oppression we face every single day. Every time I tweet something relatively political, someone comes after me with academic rhetoric, claims of homophobia and racism, and accusations of being a sell-out. I’ve gone from confident and optimistic speaker glowing about the magic of social media in community organizing to scared and increasingly apathetic college student contemplating leaving activism behind.

Similar revelations from those who had been close to Suey Park and was burned are coming to the public as this saga drags on. With each story like this one, Park's credibility becomes lower and lower, circling around the drain. I wouldn't mourn the loss, except I know already that this will play out. It will play out in a way that damages not just Suey Park, but all Asian Americans.

To make up for the lost credibility, Park's gambits will become more and more outrageous. She herself signaled this exact game plan, in so many words: if people don't take you seriously, do crazy things. By becoming more outrageous, Park will guarantee herself a consistent level of public visibility in the media, which loves no one like it loves circus clowns. Park will join the long heritage of media clowns who generate far more heat than light, the likes of Coulter, Palin, Moore and Sharpton. Similar to those who came before her, Park will become that one example that the opponents use to discredit the entire Asian American experience.

This, to me, is the greatest harm that came from the hare-brained campaign of #CancelColbert, and this is why I am so angry at this stupidity.

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