Foreign Professors in Korean Dragnet: "Just the facts . . ."

Banner

Although I taught three years at Korea University, I have no firsthand knowledge on the dispute reported in David McNeill's article "In South Korea, Foreign Professors Can Have a Hard Time Fitting In," The Chronicle of Higher Education (January 7, 2013) between Professor Michael Foster and the Korea University English Department. Because I taught in the English Department there, I have heard from both sides in mass emails (my address must be on a KU list), but having no firsthand information, I plead ignorance . . . except for one thing, the need for a factual correction about the academic career of another professor, Gary Kennedy:

The speed of internationalization has produced problems. Institutions often put much more effort into recruiting foreign professors in a short-term bid to raise rankings than into retaining them, says Gary Kennedy, an American who has taught in the English departments of three universities in South Korea over the past eight years. They fail to prepare for foreign hires, he says, adding that employment contracts, policies, and support structures are often lacking.

When they arrive, new foreign professors struggle to integrate into Korean faculty, where older professors dominate departments in a system Mr. Kennedy describes as "feudal." "Anyone who lacks a champion is likely to be in a weak position," he says, so when foreign professors run into problems, "there is nobody to turn to for help and advice."

In his experience, the employment arrangements seem to favor Korean academics, with many foreign professors working on contract. Dispute resolution often involves little more than simply agreeing with the most senior Korean faculty member, Mr. Kennedy says.

I know Dr. Gary Kennedy personally, he is a physicist from England, not an English scholar from America, and he has taught mainly in physics departments, not English departments -- assuming that there are not two Gary Kennedys, and I'm applying Occam's razor here.

As for the substance of Gary's complaints, it generally fits much of my experience: Foreigners are netted abroad and dragged into an academic system utterly unlike their own, and they must sink or swim in deep waters with no lifeguard to call on for rescue if they begin to drown . . .

Some Sturdy Students' Semester Studies Overseas Sans Homesickness

Budapest, Hungary
Wikipedia

A couple of days ago, I blogged on homesickness, which I've never suffered abroad, but there may be ever more cases of this 'illness' as unprecedented numbers of students spend a semester or more abroad . . . or maybe there won't be an epidemic, given contemporary youths' apparent flexibility, which reminds me of my own experience in other lands:

When Sid Mathur first arrived in Budapest for a study abroad program in 2009, he was shocked by the empty streets, which called to mind old stereotypes he had of Eastern and Central Europe.

"It was crazy, because we were walking and it was empty, like dead," he said, remembering his first Sunday afternoon wandering the Hungarian capital. "I was like, 'Where am I, what did I do?'"

Within a few days, however, Mr. Mathur and his newfound friends discovered a "thrilling nightlife" and the perks of living in the spacious apartments offered to students enrolled in his course, a Budapest Semester in Mathematics.

"What I loved about Budapest at first was the art and bar scene, but of course also academics," he said, over a local beer at a new bar. "The math grabbed me. It was great, it really was."

Mr. Mathur, 25, is no stranger to travel. A native of India, he grew up in the Philippines and spent three years at college in Ohio before arriving in the European city.

While in Budapest, he enjoyed meeting people from all over Europe. "I made friends with a lot of Germans who are very out of their element here -- maybe not as much as I am, but almost."

Mr. Mathur's experience reminds me of my own in Germany. I never got as far east as Hungary, but German cities were also rather dead on Sunday afternoons. That lack of activity, however, made Sundays a good time for biking through nature on the wonderfully well-maintained German bike paths, so I never felt homesick. My life was lived at a higher standard than at home -- why feel homesick? There was even art and alcohol as well, as in Mr. Mathur's account. One merely needed to seek life out, which is not always lived in the street. Homesickness doesn't seem to afflict the adventuresome types such as myself, Mr. Mathur, and others described by Palko Karasz in the article "New cultures and languages challenge beyond the classroom" (International Herald Tribune, March 28, 2012, page 10; update: also now in NYT), as long as one keeps busy with interesting new experiences in the new culture:

"If you want to interact with locals in a foreign environment, you need to be very open to cultural differences," said Mr. [David] Ottlik[, a Hungarian native]. "With all the new things to discover [in Paris], I didn't have time for homesickness."

And with all the foreign students flocking to Korean universities these days, this city that I've made my home, Seoul, is destined to grow ever more cosmopolitan, for "South Korea [is one of the] . . . 'emerging market' destinations according to Chiao-Ling Chien of Unesco's Institutes of Statistics, which carries out studies on foreign students," or so reports Christopher F. Schuetze in "Smart Shoppers in Global Market" (NYT, March 27, 2012). This transformation, which seems to be occurring in cities across the world, promises to make living abroad both more complex and more familiar, thereby occasioning fewer instances of homesickness in expats.

But there might arise cases of native-born homesicknesses for a less complicated, more isolated past, future shock as nostomania . . .

Guess he didn't see that one coming . . .

Breaking 'Noose' from Saudi Arabia

(Image from Yahoo News)

As a foreigner in Korea, I occasionally complain about how I'm treated by the Koreans. For instance, from my wife and kids -- Korean citizens all -- I don't get no respect! Yes, there's a dangerous field rigged with landmines awaiting the unwitting foreigner who treads too boldly into Korean territory.

But for those foreigners here who complain overmuch, consider the words of that expat Belial in Paradise Lost 2.163-164:

. . . is this then worst,
Thus sitting, thus consulting . . . ?

Exactly right! We foreigners here in Korea can sit around our computers debating pretty freely about our future prospects in this country, and things really don't look so bad. Things could indeed be much worse. Look what's happening to this forward-looking fellow who recently visited Saudi Arabia:

A man has been sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia for witchcraft because he makes predictions on television.

Ali Sibat is not even a Saudi national. The Lebanese citizen was only visiting Saudi Arabia on pilgrimage when he was arrested in Medina last year.

A court in the city condemned him as a witch on November 9.

The only evidence presented in court was reportedly the claim he appeared regularly on Lebanese satellite issuing general advice on life and making predictions about the future.

The poor fellow is clearly innocent since he manifestly failed to foresee the consequences of stepping onto Saudi territory! At most, he should only have been found guilty of 'charlatanry', for that carries a lighter punishment:

In 2006 a Jeddah court convicted an Eritrean national Muhammad Burhan for "charlatanry" because he possessed a phone book that contained writings in the Tigrinya alphabet used in Eritrea . . . . [Prosecutors] classified the booklet as a "talisman" and the court accepted that as evidence, sentencing him to 20 months in prison and 300 lashes.

If only the incarcerated Mr. Burhan hadn't demanded his right to a phone call, the Saudi police might never have noticed that 'talisman'. So much for its talismanic powers! But I'd bet that Mr. Sibat is dying for a punishment as light as those 300 lashes, given that he'd also be provided with 20 months to recuperate.

Remind me -- if I should happen to forget -- never to go teach English in Saudi Arabia . . . and never to forget how good we foreigners have it here in South Korea.

Foreigners and Foreignness in Korean Eyes

Essential Foreigner

But a 'Multicultural' Friend?

(Image from The Free Dictionary)

Brian Deutsch, over at his blog Brian in Jeollanam-do, asks an interesting question about the Korean word for "foreigner": 외국인 (wei-guk-in).

Can wei-guk-in ever refer to a Korean?

The question arises because we non-Koreans expats here in Korea receive the impression that wei-guk-in refers only to non-Koreans. Brian cites a passage from an article by David Kosofsky, "Exploring Korean Culture Through Korean English," which appeared in Korea Journal nearly 20 years ago (Volume 30, Number 11, November-December, 1990, pages 69-83). Brian directs our attention to page 75 for Kosofsky's experience with the Korean concept of "foreigner" (transliteration and translation added):

[I]n a Korean restaurant in San Francisco, . . . I was eating dinner with a young Korean man doing graduate studies at Berkeley. Pointing to a group of non-Asian diners at a nearby table, he remarked, "A lot of foreigners come to this restaurant." It was all I could do to continue chewing my 냉면 (naeng-myun, i.e., "cold noodles") without blurting out, "You're absolutely right, Mr. Kim, and you're one of them!" Apparently there is a dissonance between the English word, foreigner, and the Korean conceptual model.

Kosofsky then adds:

In English, the word refers to an abstract relationship, not an intrinstic attribute. Nobody is inherently a foreigner; anyone can become on simply by crossing a national border. Foreignness is a question of context, not essence.

The implication here is that Koreans consider foreignness an essential quality of non-Koreans. This sounded plausible, but I wondered if it were true, so I asked the first two native speakers of Korean that I could find and posted the results in a comment at Brian's blog:

I asked my wife and daughter about this, and they insist, as native speakers of Korean, that 외국인 (wei-guk-in) can refer to Koreans, too.

Some Koreans might have intellectual difficulties with this concept of Koreans as 외국인 (wei-guk-in), but I admit to calling various Europeans 'foreigners' while I was in Europe -- usually, but not always, as a joke.

I think that this is more an issue of provincialism than of semantics, for if my wife and daughter are correct, then 외국인 (wei-guk-in) can refer to a Korean outside of Korea.

Perhaps we need to ask more Koreans about this.

I therefore left Brian's blog and emailed a couple of Korean friends. First, I asked Dr. Suh Ji-moon, noted translator and a professor of English at Korea University about this, and she replied (parenthetical details added):

As for your query, I myself would never refer to an overseas Korean as a 'foreigner' (외국인, wei-guk-in), except as a figure of speech, so to say -- for example, 'why, he's almost a foreigner' (i.e., "almost a wei-guk-in"). But of course . . . young people may have a different concept of the word.

I therefore also asked a somewhat younger professor at Korea University, Dr. Moon Hi-Kyung, also of the English Department, and she wrote (transliterations and other parenthetical remarks added):

About your query -- an intriguing point. I would say that 외국인 (wei-guk-in) is a term which is used ambigously and could have two different meanings: it is used mostly to indicate a racial difference, so even if you (i.e., meaning not ethnic Koreans) are Korean nationality, you would still be a 외국인 (wei-guk-in). But of course in a stricter sense and when one is talking about nationality, then we talk about 외국인 (wei-guk-in, i.e., outside-country-person) and 내국인 (nae-guk-in, i.e., inside-country-person). But the former (i.e., racial) category is more usual in everyday conversation, I think.

Meanwhile, back over at Brian's blog, the discussion had continued. The learned Gomushin Girl wrote (referring to me in her comment as "HJH"):

Etymologically, it breaks down thusly:

外/외/wei/outside (same as in 외출: outing and 외도: go astray/wrong course)

國/국/guk/country

人/인/in/person

The question is whether the 國 component should be seen as possessive, as "my country" in reference to the speaker. In that case, then yes, calling all non-Koreans "foreigner" would be the correct way to use this word. However, I'm inclined to agree with HJH in that this use is unthinking and provincial, and not intrinsic. There are Koreans who are linguistically cautious and avoid using the word indiscriminately, and then there are Koreans for whom it works for any non-Korean, anywhere, anytime.

I note in passing the connection between being "foreign" and "going astray" -- but this is a point peculiar to the original Chinese term (and observe the irony that 외국인 (wei-guk-in) is a foreign term, borrowed from the Chinese language). Gomushin Girl's main point is that the term 외국인 (wei-guk-in) does not intrinsically refer to a non-Korean.

The equally learned Sonagi, however, differs a bit on this point (transliterations and translations added):

Your wife and daughter are correct that the dictionary definition allows for this usage, but I have only ever heard or read Koreans using the words 외국인 (wei-guk-in) and 외국사람 (wei-guk sa-ram, i.e., "foreign person") to refer to non-Koreans. Even ethnic Korean residents and citizens of foreign countries are usually distinguished as 한인 (han-in, i.e., Korean person), 한국계 (han-guk-gye, i.e., "ethnic Korean"), 교포 (gyo-po, i.e., "overseas Korean"), and 동포 (dong-po, i.e., "overseas Korean").

Unlike English speakers, Koreans will refer to a non-Korean as a "foreigner" even when the nationality is known. While retelling experiences abroad, Koreans have called Australians, Canadians, and Americans "foreigners." The Koreans knew these people were locals. An English speaker would refer to a German, a Japanese, or a Mexican as such and never use the word "foreigner" to refer to specific person of a specific nationality. Koreans will, too, but they will also call specific persons of a specific known nationality "foreigners."

The general Korean worldview can be thought of as a Venn diagram. In one circle are ethnic Koreans with Korean citizenship. In the other, are non-ethnic Koreans with foreign citizenship. In the middle are ethnic Koreans with foreign citizenship and Korean citizens with partial or non-Korean ancestry. Because your wife and children are part of a multicultural family, their worldview is probably not representative or typical of Koreans.

Sonagi may be correct about my wife and daughter, but I have also asked my class of about 25 students at Ewha Womans University, and these young native speakers agreed that 외국인 (wei-guk-in) can refer to Koreans as well as to non-Koreans, so the younger generation might hold more flexible views. (Or they might have been telling me what they thought that I wanted to hear.)

Language use reflects how people think, I suppose, and while many (perhaps most) Koreans may still speak as if "foreignness" were an essential quality of non-Koreans, the term 외국인 (wei-guk-in) can be used more flexibly (as the Chinese linguistic roots demonstrate) and is perhaps coming to be used to refer to Koreans in some contexts . . . but more investigation is needed on this intriguing point.

I lack the Korean linguistic skills for this sort of research endeavor, but I think that a good, concrete question to ask individual Koreans would be the following (composed with the help of my daughter, Sa-Rah):

Could you, as a Korean visiting a non-Korean country, say, "이 나라에서 나는 외국인이다" (e nara-esuh na-nun wei-guk-in e-da, i.e., "I am a foreigner in this country")?

With appreciation to my daughter Sa-Rah for the Korean sentence, apology to Korean experts for my poor transliteration, and appeal to everyone interested for their additional insights on this vexed cultural-linguistic issue.

'Foreigners' in Korea

Ever feel like a paidhi here?

Apologies to C. J. Cherryh

(Image from Wikipedia)

Yesterday's principle quote -- "Treat them like foreigners, but with respect" -- was actually misquoting the principal, for School 34's principal, in advising teachers how to deal with North Korean students actually said something rather different, as Sonagi reports:

I emailed the writer, Samuel Songhoon Lee, asking for clarification and the original quote in Korean, if possible. Mr. Lee responded promptly. He acknowledged that the quote had caused a stir among both expats and Korean-Americans. He explained that the original article was edited for length, and thus, the quote became distorted. He has given permission for me to post the original quote on blogs:

"애들을 외국인 처럼 대하세요, 그들이 우리들과 다른점을 인정하고 존중해주면서요"

I humbly offer a translation:

"Treat the kids like foreigners. Acknowledge their differences and give them respect."

There are two pages of comments accessible at the end of the article. Mr. Lee posted two long responses on the second page of the comment thread.

The word "but" in the shortened 'quote' would better have been 'and': "Treat them like foreigners, and with respect." The principal, therefore, is guilty of nothing worse than being misquoted.

However, the misquote rang true for many expats living and working here in Korea, for we know that a lot of non-Western foreigners are treated with disrespect, and even Western foreigners sometimes encounter disrespectful treatment (though I've personally experienced very little).

I'm not singling out Korea as unique, for I've lived in Germany, where I noticed the same sort of attitude there toward foreigners. From these two cases -- Germany and Korea -- I infer that ethnically based states generally prefer individuals of their own ethnic group.

However, foreigners of the same ethnicity find themselves both included and excluded -- included for ethnicity, excluded for being different. I've seen this in Germany as well as in Korea. Those foreign Germans and foreign Koreans, respectively, who cannot speak their 'native' tongues, encounter disrespect among the natives. I recall being on a bus in Germany and overhearing a German from Russia speaking with a heavy Russian accent trying to communicate with the driver, who was having great difficulty understanding. In frustration, the Russian German exclaimed, "Ich bin Deutsch!" -- meaning, "I am German!" Some wit from the back called out, "Man hört es!" -- which translates literally as "One hears it!" But the remark was intended in irony and thus meant something like "You don't sound German at all!"

North Korean defectors who've come here to South Korea also encounter disrespect for their differences. Ostensibly, they speak the same language, but with a different accent and a somewhat different vocabulary. So, they're marked as 'different.'

Korean-Americans encounter special problems. They're criticized for not being fluent in Korean (unless they are fluent) but often rejected as teachers of English for not being native speakers of English (even if they speak English as their native language).

One Korean-American woman, Kyung Eun Davidson, who happens to be an adoptee raised by an American Jewish family, has written a letter to the JoongAng Daily (April 3, 2007) stating that she has encountered all sorts of difficulties here in Korea, including -- in her own words -- "racism." In light of the recent Lee Won-bok controversy over antisemitic cartoons in his graphic comicbook on America, I wonder if Davidson means that she has encountered antisemitic prejudices. She doesn't specify, but I'm quoting her letter here in full:

Globalizing means opening minds

I am a Korean adoptee, and have been living in Korea for two years. Among the most shocking things I have encountered during my life in Korea are the racism and discrimination that I have been subjected to here, repeatedly.

Having never experienced even one incident of racism in the United States, it was utterly bewildering and vexing to be confronted with it in my "motherland."

I recently came to a breaking point when I was told by an English language institute that, "unfortunately, they only want a native teacher." This was imparted just two days after I had been told that my resume was more than satisfactory, and that [the institute] really wanted to schedule an interview with me.

This came immediately after I had quit my job, which was in part because I have been told that Koreans regard adoptees as trash because we have no parents.

I have also been told that my biological parents had to have been both stupid and immoral, and that Americans only adopt Korean children because they get welfare [benefits] as a result.

While I cannot judge the veracity of the first assertion, the latter claim is easily refuted by logic. What country would give people money to adopt children from other countries? Financially, it would be an absurdity.

I have discovered that no matter what I do, I am always confronted with the problem that I'm not Korean enough or white enough to be accepted in this country.

I have found this paradoxical situation rather farcical since, by American standards, my minority status only serves to augment my suitability; as a Jew and a Korean, I am statistically in the top echelon of the academic world [in the United States].

American people treat me accordingly, and I have always been treated no differently from a white American.

If Korea is sincere in wanting to join the global community, its people are going to have to curb their racist attitudes and prejudiced perceptions.

The Korean people need to open their eyes and stop holding adoptees to a double standard.

Either treat us fairly, as fellow Koreans, or treat us with the esteem granted to "native," i.e. white, Americans.

The most interesting part for me is that Davidson states that she has "never experienced even one incident of racism in the United States." I found that surprising, for racism certainly exists in America, even against Asian-Americans, so I can only conclude that she has been rather fortunate.

Anyway, if Ms. Davidson happens to see this blog entry, I'd be very interested in hearing what she means by the "racism" that she has been subjected to here in Korea, for it must be an extremely complex sort of racism fraught with profound ambiguities and ambivalences.

Finally, and only tangentially related, I report that in my class Monday on British and American Culture, I made reference to "Monty Python's satires of British traditions." Blank looks. Helpfully, I added, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail?" Blank looks. So, I tried "The Life of Bryan?" Blank looks.

Stymied, frustrated, and thinking of the Foreigner Universe, I exclaimed, "I feel like I'm talking to people from a different planet!" My students all laughed, and I added, feeling my age, "Well, the past is another country."

I suppose that the past is also another universe...