History Behind Seo Taiji's Sogyeokdong

[Cross-posted on Dramabeans]

Dear Korean,

Recently, Seo Taiji released a song called Sogyeokdong. From the music video and my limited Korean skills, I gathered that Sogyeodong must be a historical place. What exactly transpired there and what is the significance of the setting for Seo Taiji's music video? 

Curious person with poor Korean skills :(

Here is a simple rule for AAK!:  if you ask something about the new Seo Taiji song, your question will be published. First, let's listen to the music in question.

소격동
Sogyeokdong

나 그대와 둘이 걷던 그 좁은 골목계단을 홀로 걸어요
I walk alone, on that narrow alley stairs that the two of us used to walk
그 옛날의 짙은 향기가 내 옆을 스치죠
The thick scent of the past sweeps by me

널 떠나는 날 사실 난...
On the way I left, actually I...

등 밑 처마 고드름과 참새소리 예쁜 이 마을에 살 거예요
I will live in this pretty village, with icicles on the roof and sparrows chirping
소격동을 기억하나요 지금도 그대로 있죠
Do you remember Sogyeokdong? It still remains the same

아주 늦은 밤 하얀 눈이 왔었죠
On a very late night, the white snow fell
소복이 쌓이니 내 맘도 설렜죠
As they piled on, my heart stirred too
나는 그날 밤 단 한숨도 못 잤죠
I could not sleep that night, not even a wink
잠들면 안돼요 눈을 뜨면 사라지죠
Don't fall asleep; it all disappears when we open our eyes*

어느 날 갑자기 그 많던 냇물이 말라갔죠
The stream that used to be so big suddenly dried up
내 어린 마음도 그 시냇물처럼 그렇게 말랐겠죠
My young heart, like that stream, must have dried up too

너의 모든 걸 두 눈에 담고 있었죠
In my two eyes, I carried everything about you
소소한 하루가 넉넉했던 날
The days when the small days were more than enough
그러던 어느 날 세상이 뒤집혔죠
Then one day, the world turned upside down
다들 꼭 잡아요 잠깐 사이에 사라지죠
Everyone hold on tight; it all disappears in a moment

잊고 싶진 않아요 하지만 나에겐
I do not want to forget; but to me
사진 한 장도 남아있지가 않죠
Not even a single photo remained
그저 되뇌면서 되뇌면서 나 그저 애를 쓸 뿐이죠
I can simply try, repeating to myself, repeating to myself

아주 늦은 밤 하얀 눈이 왔었죠
On a very late night, the white snow fell
소복이 쌓이니 내 맘도 설렜죠
As they piled on, my heart stirred too
나는 그날 밤 단 한숨도 못 잤죠
I could not sleep that night, not even a wink
잠들면 안돼요 눈을 뜨면 사라지죠
Don't fall asleep; it all disappears when we open our eyes*

*Translation note:  Although TK assigned "it all" and "we" as subjects in this sentence, in the original Korean lyrics it is unclear who is opening his/her eyes, and exactly what is disappearing. Because Korean language does not require a subject in a sentence, this type of poetic ambiguity is common.

*                   *                   *

As the questioner gleaned, Sogyeokdong [소격동, pronounced "soh-kyok-dong"] is an actual place in Seoul. Located within Jongno-gu [종로구], it is in the heart of the old Seoul, abutting the Gyeongbokgung [경복궁] palace on the east side. Together with Samcheong-dong [삼청동], Gahoe-dong [가회동], Jae-dong [재동], Gye-dong [계동], etc., it is a part of the neighborhood called Bukchon [북촌]. Because of its quaint narrow alleyways and well-preserved traditional Korean houses, Bukchon today is a popular tourist destination. 

Due to its central location, Sogyeokdong has been at the forefront of Korea's turbulent modern history. However, Seo Taiji did not choose to sing about Sogyeokdong simply for the sake of history. He actually grew up in the neighborhood, having attended the nearby Jaedong Elementary School (which is Korea's oldest elementary school, established in 1895.) In an interview, Seo said that he simply wanted to sing about his childhood, but doing so would have been impossible without touching upon the history he had seen. The result, in TK's estimation, is a more elegant expression of the sinister sense of fear and loss that permeated the experience of Korean children at the time.

Seo Taiji was born in 1972, which means he experienced his Sogyeokdong childhood in the early to mid-1980s. What was going on in Korea in the 1980s?

(More after the jump.)

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

It is important to remember that, until late 1980s-early 1990s, South Korea was under authoritarian dictatorship. To be sure, the situation was better than North Korea's--but not by that much. In December 1979, General Chun Doo-hwan rolled tanks into Seoul, threatened the then-president Choi Gyu-ha at gunpoint, and later appointed himself to be the president. When the citizens of Gwangju protested the coup d'etat, Chun sent paratroopers to the city and murdered more than 600 people.

During Chun's dictatorship, the democratically elected National Assembly was no more than a shill. The true, shadow government was located in Sogyeokdong, under the name of the Defense Security Command. Growing up in the neighborhood, Seo Taiji likely could not help but notice the swirl of chaos surrounding the area.

Accordingly, in the music video for Sogyeokdong, one can see a number of historical tropes. The main boy character is wearing a military uniform, which is a standard issue in the 1980s. The dictatorship, in large part, justified its existence by playing up the threat of North Korean invasion. In order to instill constant fear, schoolchildren were required to take "military training" as a subject starting middle school. The boys would learn how to line up, march and handle a mock rifle, while the girls learned how to apply first aid. (Incredibly, "military training" remained as a high school subject until 2007.) 

Another scene of the music video shows the air raid drill: periodically, Koreans had to undergo the nighttime air raid drill, during which people were instructed to turn off all lights so that the incoming North Korean bombers could not see the targets below. (Or so the dictatorship told the people.) A modified version of this drill still goes on to this day in Korea, which tends to alarm tourists and foreign journalists into thinking that a war broke out between South and North Korea.

The Sogyeokdong music video also makes one direct allusion to a historical event. When the boy and the girl sit together on the stairs, one can faintly hear the radio speaking about 학원 녹화사업, or "School Greening Project." Like other dictatorial project names, the School Greening Project had little to do with planting trees around schools--instead, the "greening" was a code word for brainwashing. 

During the School Greening Project, college students who were involved in the democratization movement were forcibly drafted, i.e. randomly arrested and sent to military bases. There, the students were beaten and tortured until they agreed to serve as the government's spies within the democratization movement. It is believed that approximately 1,100 students were forcibly drafted during the School Greening Project; six were killed in the process.

Six college students who were killed during the School Greening Project.
(source)

The music video is not clear on what exactly happened, but it appears clear enough that someone in the girl's family is being taken away. One can see soldiers rushing to the girl's house, and there is a struggle. The lyrics of the song also allude to the event, as they repeatedly sing about disappearance, full stream running dry, and being left without even a single photograph.

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

Korea's Labor Productivity, and How to Interpret Data About Korea

An article titled Seven Reasons Why Korea Has the Worst Productivity in the OECD, from March 2014, has been recently making rounds in TK's Facebook feed again. It was a dumb article at the time of the publication, and it remains dumb today. Regardless, the article continues to receive approving reactions--which merits pointing out exactly what is dumb about this article.

First, the article itself. The author Michael Kocken, writing for Business Korea magazine, begins with this:

Korea was recently named the worst place for worker productivity in the OECD, which was featured in a recent article by this magazine. This news is not surprising for any professional previously or currently working in Korea, as the notorious overtime hours coupled with years of low growth have been a widely-discussed issue over the past few years.

Then the article makes the familiar, banal complaints about Korea's corporate culture:  Korea's corporate structure is too rigid and hierarchical; there is no honest and direct communication; worker distraction from the Internet and smartphones; hungover workers, valuing form over substance, new workers who are poorly equipped, and the need to put in useless "face time."

Typical office scene in Korea. Is this the home of low productivity?
(source)

What's dumb about this article?

First, the article's starting premise is flatly untrue. Korea's labor productivity was not the worst in the OECD. Korea's labor productivity per worker in 2012 (which was the most recent data available as of the article's writing) was at 23rd place among the 34 OECD member states. Sure, 23 out of 34 is still in the lower range. But it is a far cry from being at the worst place.

But let's be generous and make an ample allowance between the bottom third and the rock bottom. After all, it would be good for Korea to aspire to be on the above-average side of the OECD. However, even this allowance cannot save this article. The main problem with the article is that the author does not seem to understand what "labor productivity" means. This is apparent from the second sentence of the article's opening paragraph, which refers to Korea's long overtime hours. Even setting aside the factual inaccuracy that TK noted earlier, this is a strange statement.

Why is it strange? Because OECD measures labor productivity by, essentially, dividing "output" by number of hours worked. (The precise methodology is somewhat more complicated, especially on how one defines "output." If you are interested in the actual methodology, you can find it here.) This necessarily means that the longer one works, the lower the labor productivity, because if you increase the denominator while holding the numerator at the same level, the result is always a smaller number. In other words, Korea's labor productivity is low because of long overtime hours, not despite the overtime, as Kocken appears to imply.

This leads us to the most important lesson:  what OECD means by "labor productivity" is not what an ordinary person would think. When OECD states Korea has low labor productivity, the word "productivity" is not being used in the same manner in which regular people talk about being "productive at work." But the latter is exactly how the author Michael Kocken uses the term "productivity." Then the article simply runs with the incorrect understanding of the term, and make the trite, stereotypical complaints about Korea's corporate culture.

(More after the jump.)

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



Well then. If Korea's low labor productivity doesn't mean what a regular person may think it means, what does it actually show?

Korea's low labor productivity shows that the value creation in Korea's economy is heavily concentrated. The OECD report that focuses on Korea makes this very clear (at pp. 4-5): Korea's labor productivity is excellent in areas for which Korea is known, and very poor in other areas. Specifically, Korea's labor productivity in manufacturing is world-class, while labor productivity in service industry is below par. (As of 2010, labor productivity in Korea's manufacturing sector ranked second in the OECD.) In fact, labor productivity in Korea's service industry is only half as much as that of Korea's manufacturing industry. This ends up dragging down the whole of Korea's labor productivity per worker, because over 70 percent of Korean workers work in the service industry.

Why is the labor productivity in Korea's service industry so low? There are largely two reasons. First, unlike Korea's manufacturing industry, Korea's service industry does not compete in the global market. For example, Korea's legal industry was a closed market until very recently; foreign law firms will not be able to fully operate in Korea until 2017. Same is true for Korea's medical industry, whose market will not open to international hospitals until much later, if it ever does. Absent world-class competition, it is not a surprise that Korea's service industry does not have world-class labor productivity.

Second reason is that the Korean economy has an inordinately huge number of mom-and-pop shops, which technically belong to service industry. One of TK's favorite Korea trivia is:  Korea has 12.2 restaurants per 1,000 people, whereas Japan only has 5.7 restaurants per 1,000 people and the United States has 1.8. As much as Koreans love their food, gastronomical pleasure alone does not explain why Korea has nearly seven times more restaurants per capita than Americans do.

Because Korea has had a weak social security network, few Koreans could truly afford to "retire"--that is, take their savings, add them with governmental assistance, and stop working. Instead, upon "retiring" from their initial career, most Koreans have to take their savings and open up their own business to generate enough money to get through old age. This leads to a proliferation of restaurants, a business with pretty low initial barrier to entry. In particular, franchise restaurants--which are very easy to open without much experience--makes the barrier to entry even lower. (By the way, this is a large part of the reason why Korea has so many different fried chicken restaurants everywhere.)

And of course, this trend is hardly limited to restaurants: as of 2011, 28.2 percent of all Korea's workers were self-employed, which is a huge proportion compared to the OECD average of 16.1 percent. (In fact, the same number for Korea in 2010 was eye-popping 36.8 percent.) Such mom-and-pop shops naturally have low labor productivity, because the hours tend to be long and the value created tend to be small. And there are far too many of them in the Korean service industry.

The low labor productivity of the mom-and-pop shops weighs down the labor productivity of the entire service industry, which in turn weighs down the overall labor productivity of the Korean economy. This is arguably the most important reason why Korea tends to have low labor productivity.

*                   *                   *

The lesson here is simple: be diligent. If you are going to write about data regarding Korea, actually look at the data. Let the data speak, instead of inserting your own bias.

As shown above, OECD's labor productivity has nothing to do with Korea's corporate culture. If Korea's corporate culture were dragging down Korea's labor productivity, one should expect to see that drag across all sectors. But data says that is not true. Korea's manufacturing sector has world-beating labor productivity--and it is not as if Korea's manufacturing giants (e.g. Samsung, Hyundai, LG) are known for their touchy-feely lack of hierarchy. Having accurate knowledge about what labor productivity indicates, leads to the accurate conclusion:  if Korea is good at something, it has excellent labor productivity in that area; if Korea is not as good, its labor productivity in that area is poor. Simple as that.

Do you think Korean work culture is too hierarchical, to Korean economy's detriment? Fine, make that argument. TK is skeptical of the claim that the corporate culture which created a world-beating manufacturing sector can be a problem somehow, but he is willing to entertain a good argument to the contrary. Find actual data that supports your contention, and we will have a debate. But don't bring in irrelevant data because it kind of sounds like the thing you are going for--because that's just lazy, and laziness is what often leads to dumb articles like this one.

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

Korea and the Great War

Dear Korean,

Since the centennial anniversary of the First World War (1914-2014) is upon us, it would be worthwhile to ask: (1) How did the First World War affect Korea? (2) Is the "War to End All Wars" studied in any detail by Korean students today?

Trenchman

For the centennial anniversary of World War I, TK recommends everyone to visit Kansas City, Missouri, a deeply underrated city in his opinion. There, after having some of the world's finest barbecue, visit the National World War I Museum, which houses a relatively small but all-around-awesome collection related to the Great War. Fans of history and military equipment can easily spend an entire day there. TK had a wonderful time visiting.

National World War I Museum at Kansas City
(source)

But enough gratuitous plugging. How did the First World War affect Korea? Short answer:  it didn't. Speaking of World War I is a bit like speaking of the World Series--we all know what the terms are trying to say, but they do not really mean what they say. The supposed "World" War barely grazed East Asia. Sure, Australia and New Zealand engaged in some land battles in the then-German Samoa, and the Japanese laid siege to the German base in Tsingtao, China. (Fortunately, the Germans stuck around just long enough to teach the locals how to make proper beer.) But in East Asia, World War I was never an all-out war that affected the daily lives of most people. This was true in Korea as well.

The aftermath of World War I, however, did play a significant role in Korea. On January 8,1918, toward the end of the war, President Woodrow Wilson gave the famous Fourteen Points speech, in which he advocated for (among other things) national self-determination, i.e. the right of the colonized people to free themselves from imperialism and form their own national government. 

(More after the jump.)

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

To be sure, Wilson's version of national self-determination did not directly pertain to Imperial Japan--which was, at the time, part of the Allied Powers along with the United States. The Korea Independence Movement activists who hoped to make a case for Korean independence at the Paris Peace Conference (which took place shortly after the Fourteen Points speech) were shut out from the meetings. Wilson promptly ignored the petition suing for Korean independence that Syngman Rhee (who would later become South Korea's first president) sent to the White House as the representative of the Korea Independence Movement.

Regardless, the grand vision of national self-determination served as great inspiration for the colonized Korean people. The result was the March First Movement, the largest mass independence movement in the colonial period. Every major Independence Movement activist, located not simply within Korea but in Japan, China and the United States, collaborated to promulgate the Declaration of Independence. 

March 1st Movement near Gwanghwamun [광화문].
(source)

On March 1, 1919, the 33 Independence Movement leaders read the Declaration aloud in Seoul, which marked the beginning of a massive protest that lasted for months. Depending on the sources, between a million and two million Koreans marched for independence. In the following crackdown by Imperial Japan, thousands died. Until the colonial rule ended in 1945, March 1 Movement would mark the largest mass movement for independence.

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

50 Most Influential K-pop Artists: 9. Shin Hae-cheol

[Series Index]

9. Shin Hae-cheol [신해철]

Also known as:  Shin Hae-chul; Crom

Years of Activity: 1989-present 

Discography:  

As vocal/keyboard of Muhan'gwedo [무한궤도]
When Our Lives Come to End [우리의 삶이 끝나갈 때] (1989)

As a solo artist
Shin Hae-cheol [신해철 1집] (1990)
Myself (1991)
Crom's Techno Works (1998)
Monocrom (1999)
The Songs for the One (2007)
Reboot Myself Part 1 (2014)

As vocal/keyboard of N.Ex.T
Home (1992)
The Return of N.Ex.T Part 1: The Being (1994)
The Return of N.Ex.T Part 2 (1996)
Lazenca: a Space Rock Opera (1997)
The Return of N.Ex. T Part III (2004)
Re:Game (2006)
666 Trilogy Part 1 (2008)

As a member of NoDance
Golden Hits (1996)

As a member of Wittgenstein
Theatre Wittgenstein (2000)

Representative Song:  To You [그대에게] from When Our Lives Come to End

그대에게
To You

숨가쁘게 살아가는 순간 속에도
Even in the hectic living moments
우린 서로 이렇게 아쉬워하는 걸
We still want each other more
아직 내게 남아있는 많은 날들을
The many days that I still have left
그대와 둘이서 나누고 싶어요
I wish to share them with you

내가 사랑한 그 모든 것을 다 잃는다 해도
Even if I lose everything I have loved
그대를 포기할 수 없어요
I cannot let you go
이 세상 어느 곳에서도
No matter where in the world
나는 그대 숨결을 느낄 수 있어요
I can feel your breath
내 삶이 끝나는 날까지
Until the day my life ends
나는 언제나 그대 곁에 있겠어요
I will always be by your side

Translation notes:  "숨가쁘게 살아가는 순간" is weirdly difficult.

In 15 words or less:  The most significant Korean rock musician of the 1990s.

Maybe he should should be ranked higher because...  Both in terms of music and in terms of social participation, how many K-pop artists tried more different things than Shin did?

Maybe he should be ranked lower because...  How much direct influence did Shin have? How much in the current K-pop scene can be definitively traced back to Shin Hae-cheol, like the way in which one can definitively trace Korean hip hop back to Drunken Tiger?

Why is this artist important?

As we climb higher into the rarefied heights of Korean pop music history, a concise statement of an artist's importance is approaching ever closer to impossible. One could easily write a book about Shin Hae-cheol's career; unfortunately, we can only spare a few paragraphs here.

From the beginning, Shin Hae-cheol's musical career portended a daring, experimental musical vision. Shin debuted with his band Muhan'gwedo ("Infinite Track") on the Campus Song Festival, the scene-defining audition show at the time. The crackdown from Korea's dictatorship (which ended only a year before Shin Hae-cheol's debut) has neutered K-pop, making the saccharine and brain-dead soft rock (locally referred to as "ballads") the mainstream genre. But Muhan'gwedo would have none of it. Reversing the conventional pop progression that gradually built up to a climax, To You opens with a dramatic, synthesizer-induced flair and rushes full speed toward the finish line.

Shin Hae-cheol then debuted as a solo artist, engaging in a brief (and embarrassing-in-hindsight) stint of idol pop at the insistence of his record company. Then Shin finally found his musical homeland by forming N.Ex.T. (pronounced "next",) the most significant Korean rock band of the 1990s. Looking at the current K-pop scene in which idol pop has overrun the market, it is difficult to believe that a rock band like N.Ex.T. used to top the K-pop charts. But it is true. Led by Shin Hae-cheol, N.Ex.T stood firm on the foundation of progressive rock yet struck in all directions: heavy metal, thrash rock, electronica and Korean traditional music. Shin also put project albums as an individual (taking on a separate stage name of "Crom",) trying ever more daring sound and demanding the audience to simply get used to it.

But Shin Hae-cheol's musical achievement is only half of his story, as Shin is arguably one of the most socially active pop musician in K-pop history. Perhaps betraying his elite education (Shin attended Sogang University, one of Korea's top five colleges,) Shin maintained a sharp tongue that relentlessly criticized the Korean society's irrationality and hypocrisy as a proper rocker should. Shin Hae-cheol led the charge in the movement to repeal the Korean law that prohibited two people with the same last name from getting married. Shin was also the leader of the now-infamous concert in 2002, in which Psy (of the Gangnam Style fame) performed an anti-American rap number, to express his anger at the death of two young Korean girls who were run over and killed by an USFK armored car.

The best pop artists do not simply influence the artists who come after them; they change the society around them. By that measure, Shin Hae-cheol is about as influential as any in K-pop history.

Interesting trivia:  Shin Hae-cheol is often mistaken as being related to the legendary Shin Jung-hyeon [신중현], as the name of Shin Jung-hyeon's oldest son is Shin Dae-cheol, leader of the influential heavy metal band Sinawi. Shin Hae-cheol, however, bears no relation to Shin Jung-hyeon. Shin Hae-cheol is, however, a blood relative to a different K-pop legend: Shin is the second cousin of Seo Taiji. Reportedly, the two are close, often seen together fishing or skiing.

Further Listening:  A.D.D.a. from Reboot Myself Part 1, song recorded entirely as a one-man a capella.

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