Hallyu's 'rupture' onto the world stage!

Psy and the CICI President

Korea Herald

Joel Lee, reporting for the Korea Herald on how "Ambassadors discuss globalizing Korean culture" (January 18, 2016), quotes the president of the Corea Image Communications Institute (CICI), who gave the CICI's opening speech at its annual award ceremony, where she reportedly attributed the success of the Korean Wave to:

thousands of years of condensed artistry that has ruptured onto the modern world stage.

As you can see from the bouquet of flowers in the photo above, the most 'ruptured' artistry was due almost entirely to the "great and powerful" Psy, whose "Gangnam Style" took the world by stormy surprise at how readily it 'ruptured' nearly 6000 years of Korean history through over two billion pinprick hits on YouTube!

Korean fans await the next e-'rupture' . . .

Hangeul Day - a holiday for much celebration . . . and little cerebration?

Hangeul
Wikipedia

Friday the 9th was "Hangeul Day," the day that Koreans celebrate their unique alphabet, Hangeul. Consequently, Kim Hoo-ran, an editorial writer for the Korea Herald, posted a column last Friday titled "For the love of humanity" (October 10, 2015) in praise of the Korean alphabetic system, about which she wrote:

Hangeul, at the time of its creation included 17 consonants and 11 vowels, but today 14 consonants and 10 vowels are in use. Each character represents a whole syllable and it is said that 12,768 phonemes are possible using the various combinations of consonants and vowels, making Hangeul a highly flexible writing system.

In an alphabetical system, the term "character" does not easily fit since the term ordinarily designates a Chinese ideogram signifying a meaning rather than a sound. I don't know how Kim is using this term, but Korean does divide its words into syllables in a way that most other alphabets do not, which may be what Kim is referring to, though I don't see how this is an advantage. Indeed, for the life of me, I cannot see the advantage on Hangeul over other alphabets, though Koreans often proclaim its superiority:

As a phonemic alphabet that can transcribe numerous languages, Hangeul could be an invaluable tool in preserving languages that face extinction and thus contribute toward preserving endangered cultures.

Any alphabet can do this. But what is being claimed?

In August, a group from Seoul National University successfully completed a three-year project to develop a Hangeul-based writing system to record the language of the Aymara Tribe in South America. The Aymara people, who number some 3 million, live spread across Bolivia, Peru, and Chile. The Latin alphabet used to write the Aymara language is inadequate in rendering the sounds of the Aymara language accurately and the use of Hangeul allows for easier and more accurate rendering of the language in written form, according to the team.

We'd need to see the evidence for this since Hangeul cannot even render all the sounds of English - consider the problem of "f" and "p" or "r" and "l" - without adding extra letters, which can be done with any alphabet, and I assume that's what's being done in this case. Note, for instance, the reference to "a three-year project to develop a Hangeul-based writing system." That's "Hangeul-based," not "Hangeul."

Similarly, the JoongAng Daily (October 9, 2015) devotes an editorial to the Korean language, titling it "Respect the integrity of hangul" (but disrepects its capitalization), and this editorial states:

In international conferences, the Korean language was chosen as one of the top ten in the world. Hangul has been receiving excellent appraisals from the international community, which says it's more scientific, ingenious and polysemantic than any other languages.

This excerpt conflates language and writing system, but even if the excerpt were not imagining such scholarly international conferences, the point would have to be made comparing Hangeul with other alphabets.

I'm not saying that Hangeul is unimpressive, but rather that extravagant claims are too often made on its behalf by too many Koreans, who - to be frank - seem not to know what they're talking about.

Mark James Russell: Young-hee and the Pullocho

Young-hee and the Pullocho

Amazon Books

I received an email invitation yesterday to a book-launching. The invite was from Mark James Russell, an acquaintance of my Expat Living days, if I recall correctly, back when I wrote columns for The Korea Herald:

So, at long, long last, my first novel, Young-hee and the Pullocho is out. Yay. I'm celebrating my first foray into fiction with a party, and you're invited - to Mudaeruk, a very cool bar in the Hongdae/Sangsu neighborhood.

We'll have some free food and beer (and you can always order wine and other things, too). I just ask that you please buy a copy of the book - it's just 10,000 won, cheap - and try to leave a short comment on Amazon, Kyobo Books or some other online bookstore.

Of course, feel free to bring along husbands/wives, friends, or anyone who might be interested . . .

That last line left the impression that this might be an open invitation, but upon checking with Mark, I discovered my error - the invite was to me - so I've corrected my earlier post, deleting the details of date and time:

Tuttle

launches

YOUNG-HEE

and the

PULLOCHO

by
Mark James Russell

at

Mudaeruk

Tuttle labels the book a YA (Young Adult), but Amazon says for grades 4 - 6. Amazon allows a peek inside, so you can read some to get a taste for the genre and appropriate age.

And don't forget my novella, The Bottomless Bottle of Beer . . .

Korea's Need for a Culture of Discussion?

Crash Site of a Three-Way Train Collision
Yonhap News
The Korea Herald

I'm teaching a course titled "Rhetoric and Composition," and we've just finished reading and discussing my article "Points Toward a Culture of Discussion," a paper I presented at the "2011 Global Forum Civilization and Peace." By coincidence, an article in The Korea Herald by John Power and Kim Joo-hyun, "How safe is Korea's rail?" (September 30, 2013), touches on a related issue, a culture of safety:

Shin Seok-kyun, business development manager of Korea transportation at Lloyd's Register, said many lower-level employees at KORAIL failed to grasp the safety implications of their work.

"They need to feel, 'Why (do) I think safety is first in my work?' They don't think that. 'Yes it is just routine work, that's all. I need to finish the work and go home earlier.' But such routine work can affect or cause a problem . . . . We recommended training. From the senior level to the lower level, we emphasized (that) maybe you need training for safety management, because . . . the lower level doesn't have any chance to have such training from the senior level. The company, especially the senior level, just thinks about money and any profit or (about how to) avoid any blame from the government or blame from the public."

Here's the connection to my paper's theme:

According to Shin, this laxity is compounded by the hierarchical nature of the company and general Korean culture.

"Everybody just follows such a structure and the safety culture cannot be changed within such a culture. That is the big difference between Korea and the other, Western countries . . . . In such a hierarchy, the lowest levels do not want to report the reality to the senior bosses. But the safety issue should be open to all levels, no matter the position. But still the safety culture is maybe 50, 100 years (behind) Europe or other Western (countries)."

Clearly, this issue indicates the need for a more developed culture of discussion in Korea, one in which hierarchy doesn't stifle the raising of questions, a general point upon which others, including Koreans, are agreed.

Dokdo Shown as Korean Territory in Japanese Textbook?

Dokdo in Japanese Textbook?

Korea Herald

Any expat who's spent a bit of time in Korea -- say, five minutes -- has already heard an earful on the Dokdo issue, those two rocks in the Sea of Japan (known to Koreans as the East Sea) that are claimed by Japan but possessed by Korea. Both countries point to maps as proof of valid possession, but the maps are often obscure and the arguments convoluted. Officially, my position is that Dokdo belongs to Korea. Unofficially, how would I know? I'm no expert. But to my relatively uninformed mind, Korea has a stronger claim, and for two reasons.

First, when Japan officially declared Dokdo (which they call Takeshima) to be Japanese territory in 1905, they did so on the basis of terra nullius, namely, that the rocks were land unclaimed by any state, evidence that Japan was not basing its official claim on longstanding Japanese possession.

Second, Japan actually seems to have considered the islets as Korean possessions, according to an article in Wednesday's Korea Herald, "Japan's old textbooks show Dokdo as Korean territory" (August 29, 2012):

Japanese textbooks from the late 19th century, written and published by the country's Culture Ministry at the time, indicate Dokdo as Korean territory, the Independence Hall of Korea announced on Tuesday[, noting that these] . . . textbooks -- mostly from the 1880s and some from the early 1900s -- prove that Japan's current claim over the islets is false . . . . "These books were written and published by the Japanese government at the time," said the Independence Hall of Korea institution, after unveiling five textbooks and two sets of maps of Japan to the public . . . . "This shows that the Japanese government did not consider Dokdo as part of their territory before Japan took over the islets during the Russo-Japanese War in 1905. This is another clear proof that Japan stole Dokdo even before it annexed Korea."

I'm a bit perplexed, however, by the map shown above, for its English caption reads as follows:

A map in a Japanese textbook published by the nation's Culture Ministry in 1896 shows Dokdo as belonging to Korea. The shaded areas around the Korean Peninsula indicate Korean territory and Dokdo is shown within them.

The Korean caption, however, uses the date 1887, which left me wondering if that were the actual date given for the textbook in the photo. Both dates are before 1905, of course, and either date would therefore establish Korea's prior claim -- if the tiny easternmost island depicted on the map represents the Dokdo islets (very likely) and if the shaded areas do indicate possession (entirely plausible) -- but carelessness never inspires confidence. I tried contacting the Korea Herald with the following query:

Dear Ms. Lee,

In the online article on Dokdo:

Here.

I see two different dates beneath the map: 1887 in Korean and 1896 in English.

I am intending to post a blog entry on this textbook, so I need to know which date is correct.

Also, does the textbook explicitly state that the shaded areas are national territory?

I ask not to challenge (since I side with Korea on Dokdo) but to clarify.

Best Regards,

Jeffery Hodges

In return, I received this from the "Postmaster" at the Korea Herald:

Action: failed

I tried from a different email. My wife then tried from hers. All three failed. So much for the Herald's openness to its readers. Meanwhile, the JoongAng Daily, in an article by Kim Hee-jin, "Old Japanese textbooks state 'Dokdo is Korea's'" (August 30, 2012), seems to clarify the date as 1887, for apparently the same map is depicted. Neither map identifies the island, so far as I can see, though the island definitely looks correct for Dokdo's position.

But I'd still like to know for certain if the Japanese textbook with this map explicitly states that the shaded areas are national territory . . .

Korea's Bbali-Bbali Culture

Elderly Korean Pipe Smoker

Robert Neff Collection

One of my students in Academic English this semester is writing on the rise of Korea's hurry-hurry (bbali-bbali) culture. I suggested that she find some citable evidence of a time when Koreans moved slowly, with no rush about getting things done, and she's probably done so by now, but I came across a helpful passage that she might wish to cite:

Foreigners who came to Korea in the early 20th century . . . complained about the intolerably slow tempo of the Korean people, who always seemed to be leisurely strolling, smoking a long bamboo pipe. Today, however, Koreans are astoundingly fast and dynamic.

That's from an article by Seoul National University Professor Kim Seong-kon, "A land of mystery, contradictions, logical fallacies" (Korea Herald, May 29, 2012). I've borrowed the photograph from a different source, an article by Robert Neff, "Tobacco and Korea" (10 Magazine, November 30, 2010).

I know Mr. Neff, having shared a few beers with him, and I suspect that he might even have written something on Korea's hurry-hurry culture and how it developed. The photo borrowed from his article dates to 1953, and the place was Pusan (now Busan), which is not quite the early 20th century, but that old fellow with the pipe still doesn't appear to be in any hurry. Now, he might have been tired because of the Korean War, which was dragging to its end in 1953, or he might have been a throwback to the earlier time remarked upon by Professor Kim, or Koreans in 1953 might still have preferred a slow tempo.

Having grown up in an agricultural region myself and made my particular transition to an urban life, gradually increasing my own tempo in the process, I'm guessing that this slow tempo may have characterized Korea not only up to the early twentieth century but also up to the time that Koreans abruptly moved from the countryside to the cities, which likely came with Korea's economic 'miracle' under the dictator Park Chung-hee, which started in the 1960s, and that Koreans started moving quickly at that time.

I'll have to see what my student uncovers . . .

Poetry Break: Seong-kon Column . . .

Korea Herald

Professor Kim Seong-kon, scholar in the English Department of Seoul National University, not only writes academic articles but also writes a weekly column for the Korea Herald that I enjoy reading, usually early Wednesday mornings on the subway train, Line 2, from Wangsimmi Station to Ewha Station. I can be so precise because I teach early at Ewha Womans University on Wednesdays and read my copy of the Korea Herald on the way to work.

This past Wednesday, Professor Kim published a column lamenting the loss of poetic sensibility in Korea: "Have Koreans forgotten their poetic sensibility?" (November 2, 2011). He opens his lament with these words:

In medieval Korea, poetry was often a medium of correspondence among learned men. People addressed each other in poetry and conveyed messages metaphorically in terse four or five-line poems or three-line sijo. The recipient of the correspondence would also reply with a poem. How poetic were our ancestors' lives in those days! Westerners may find it hard to understand, but the power of poetry was so potent in Korea that it could remit one's debts at times and even prevent war at other times.

Rather amazing, but Professor Kim offers an anecdote about a poem that stopped a war:

When General Wu of the Sui Dynasty in China invaded Korea in A.D. 612, Korean General Uljimundeok sent a short poem to persuade him to withdraw. After reading the poem, the Chinese general surprisingly decided to give up the campaign and pull back his troops to China. The anecdote is so famous because a short poem prevented the seemingly inevitable, imminent war.

Here's the poem in translation:

Your unfathomable strategies reached heaven
Your intricate calculations penetrated the earth
Winning so many battles already
You should know when to stop and withdraw.

Wilfred Owen would have appreciated the power of such poetry. Professor Kim offers other examples of poetry used instead of direct dialogue, but those days of poetic sensibility are now gone, as he laments:

Dismayed by our hostile society that lacks decorum, we often miss those good old days when people communicated with each other in poems.

I don't know Professor Kim well, but I know him well enough to know that he has a sense of humor, so I think that he'll understand if I respond to his poetic column with a bit of doggerel:

Soju-Shi

Though bright old moon yet may,
My best of five friends fine,
Implore me still to stay,
Drink in the night's moon shine,
I see another way,
’long sunken columns' line . . .

It's a silly little poem, I admit, but it might perhaps bring a smile to readers this morning, though I doubt that it will satisfy anyone's longing for those more poetic days of yore . . .

Oh, one more thing, just in case my boss is reading this, I didn't actually stay out all night drinking soju. I'm merely adhering to a poetic convention, like the old Confucian scholars who wrote poems to each other celebrating the joy of fellowship with friends over drinks, and my five drinking buddies were the conventional Water, Rock, Pine, Bamboo, and Moon, emblematic of the five virtues in a poem by Yun Seondo . . .

Rob York on Homeschooling: Interview with the Gypsy Scholar

Sa-Rah and I

Photo by Rob York

(Image from Korea Herald)

Rob York, a reporter for the Korea Herald, interviewed me a couple of weeks ago for an article on schooling one's children at home, and it appeared yesterday in print, "Homeschooling in Korea: Two sides to consider" (June 8, 2011), albeit not in interview format.

Rob, by the way, grew up on a dairy farm in Tennessee, and I've had a bit of experience with dairy cattle myself, having helped one of my best friends back in the Ozarks with the milking on his family's dairy farm about once every couple of weeks for nearly four years, so Rob and I had some experiences in common.

Moreover, he has a personal interest in the issue of homeschooling, for he and his Korean wife have a small child and will eventually face the same issue of how to educate someone who's not a full Korean. My wife and I had taken Sa-Rah out of the Korean educational system once she reached middle school because we weren't entirely satisfied, and we had placed her in an online school that had satisfied us fairly well academically, but Sa-Rah has grown dissatisfied with online schooling because she feels isolated and . . . but I'll let Rob tell the story:

For expatriates with children to raise, living in Korea brings new educational concerns.

If they can find somewhere for their children to live, sending them to their native countries is an option. If they can afford it, the parents may try an international school. And if they feel their child is sufficiently acclimated to Korea, they may go with the public school system.

Some parents, though, try something much closer to home.

That's Rob's introduction, which is followed by the first part of his article, a section dealing with a successful case of homeschooling in Korea, but I'll skip ahead to the second part, which deals with Sa-Rah's case, though I'll have to add some clarifying details in brackets, as you'll see:

Horace Jeffery Hodges, who teaches at Ewha Womans University in Seoul and is best-known in Korea for the Gypsy Scholar blog, has been homeschooling his 14-year-old daughter, Sa-Rah Ahyoga Hwang, for three years [in an online school].

"[As for our two children,] I've been homeschooling them both in English and various things since they were tiny, but both also went to Korean elementary schools from the beginning," said Hodges, who married Hwang Sun-Ae in 1995.

"When Sa-Rah reached middle school, we decided to stop her Korean education because some of the teachers used corporal punishment, not just for infractions of the rules but for giving the incorrect answers to questions of contents."

Furthermore, Hodges wasn't happy with the lack of discussion in class and said students were able to ask few questions. So, since then Sa-Rah has been studying online through the Keystone School based in the U.S. As Hodges is a native of Arkansas, both children have dual citizenship, making it [easily] possible for him to take them out of public schooling here.

The plan had been to continue her education this way, and then begin homeschooling her little brother, 11-year-old En-Uk Sequoya Hwang when he reached middle school. However, recently their plans changed, and they intend to put Sa-Rah back into public school when she reaches the ninth grade. It's not that there weren't benefits to homeschooling -- Hodges said that Sa-Rah's research and writing skills blossomed -- but during that time she became less outgoing.

Like the Gey van Pittius family [in the first part of this article], they had worked to counteract this at least partly through churchgoing -- the family attends an international congregation -- as well as social activities and making use of her former social connections.

Still, Sa-Rah sounds ready to return to socializing the way most children her age do.

"I miss my friends and social activities we had at school," Sa-Rah said, adding that there are also academic benefits. "I like to compete, that kind of makes me want to study."

Though she is half-Korean and speaks the language, Sa-Rah does not look like her peers in the Korean public school system. Still, aside from the occasional cultural faux pas -- such as misunderstandings resulting from her looking her teachers in the eye when they talk -- she has no horror stories akin to Petro's experience [of racism].

"I did get a lot of attention, but I didn't feel anything bad," she said.

Sa-Rah's homeschooling experience [online] has required more effort [in some respects] from her parents, particularly her mother, as Hodges had already been tutoring her at home [from the time that she was little].

"I no longer have to teach every course using a textbook. I can now check her [online] work and guide her with advice, teach her how to do research and related things. That's more interesting for me, so it's easier, [even though my responsibilities are greater,]" he said.

"For my wife, it is also [generally] easier [for Sa-Rah to do her schooling online], I think, but [it] causes a bit more worry since the [American] school system is different, leaving my wife uncertain of how best to assist her[, though Sun-Ae puts in a lot of effort, of course]."

As for the expense [of online homeschooling], Hodges said that while it costs more than public education, it is less expensive than an international school in Korea. Exactly how much depends on how involved one can be with their child's education.

"If one has lots of time, [then one can homeschool the children by onself and avoid the online schools entirely, and] the expense is minor [in that case,] but [also] time-consuming since one has to teach everything," he said. "But an online school can cost a good deal, e.g., at least a couple thousand [American] dollars per year."

Despite moving on, Hodges can see an upside to homeschooling: "The benefits derive from the research-based coursework that the online school offers," he said. "The teachers stress creativity and independent thinking. I'm not yet sure[, however,] if memorization is stressed enough."

So, when she returns to her education outside the home, Hodges will continue to help her with reading, learning to research and writing essays. He also plans to continue tutoring his son in the humanities while keeping him in public school and planning for their futures.

"I'll have to maybe administer the practice tests for the PSAT," he said. "Although Korean schools seem to be good at teaching test-taking."

That's all from us. The first part of the article, on the experiences of the Gey van Pittius family, is in some ways more interesting due to the conflict that one of the daughters experienced . . . but you can go to the link to find out about that.

Incidentally, I hadn't known when the article was going to appear in print yesterday, so you can perhaps imagine my surprise at seeing the above photograph, large and clear, jump out at me when I turned to the Expat Living section of the Korea Herald as I was riding the subway to Ewha Womans University yesterday morning. Startled at seeing myself so prominently featured in a 'major' newspaper, I glanced about nervously, wondering if the other passengers had seen the paper and recognized me.

I certainly hope not, or I'll have to start being more courteous as I use the subway system. No more pushing and shoving to get on and off trains, no more grabbing seats ahead of other riders, no more ignoring people who try to engage me in a broken-English conversation.

Ah, the downside of celebrity . . .

London and its Environs -- a 'Paradise' Lost?

"A copy of John Milton's Paradise Lost,

which is believed to be the only book

known to have the signatures of two founding fathers,

Thomas Jefferson and James Madison."

An article by Lisa M. Krieger, originally written for the San Jose Mercury News (apparently), was reprinted in the Korea Herald as "Rare book collection on display at Stanford" (March 3, 2011) and caught my eye with these words:

Highlights of the exhibit include a copy of John Milton's "Paradise Lost," the only book known to have been signed both by Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, close friends and political collaborators.

"We don't know what the back story is," Winterer said. "Was it owned by Jefferson, and lent to Madison? Or owned by Madison, and lent to Jefferson?"

Then there’s this mystery: "Why did Madison sign it five different times?" [Lisa M. Krieger, Korea Herald, March 4, 2011, page 16 (hard copy)]

That did intrigue me, but my eye was caught again, and the mystery deepened, as I looked at the illustrative photograph with its caption, shown above, which indicates that Thomas Jefferson -- or possibly James Madison, at least one of those five signifying times -- signed off as John Hancock on this copy of 'Paradise Lost.'

Somebody at the Korea Herald seems to have a high opinion of London and its Environs . . . perhaps an expat Englishman, some displaced Londoner forever lamenting his lost paradise?

Meanwhile, the truth is out there . . .

More Craft Beer in Seoul

Craftworks Taphouse and Bistro

(Image from Craftworks Website)

Although I've not yet patronized the place, a new craft beer watering hole owned and operated by a certain Mr. Park Chul has opened in Seoul and received a positive write-up, "Kapa's microbrews take palate for ride," penned by Jean Oh as a review published in the Korea Herald (December 3, 2010):

Craftworks Taphouse and Bistro, one of the city's newest pubs to specialize in craft beers, has hit the nail on the head.

How? The newly-minted Itaewon establishment keeps it simple and straightforward. They put out five top-notch microbrews for only 4,000 won to 5,000 won per pint.

Fifteen thousand won or less for three pints? Now, I'm interested. I'll have to talk my expat drinking buddy, the occasional blogger Sperwer, into joining me for a raid on this place. I wonder how the drinks are, other than being inexpensive:

One sip of the establishment’s American-style golden ale confirms the luxury that comes from being able to enjoy a beer crafted from pure spring water in a microbrewery just a few hours away from Seoul.

Strong aromas of caramel -- sweet and sugary -- tease the palate. One huge gulp unloads a flood of full-bodied, fruity flavors, namely banana with a hint of butterscotch, before packing a spiky punch at the end.

This is the kind of beer that you want to drink by the liter, over and over again.

Hmmm . . . banana. Gee, I dunno. Well, Ms. Oh does state that "it's . . . Park’s willingness to experiment with his brews that makes Kapa’s beers so memorable," so let's look further:

For example, Kapa's Geumgang Mountain Dark Ale is a dark brew that is leaner than the well-known Guinness, which is a dry stout with a creamy head and a thick, rich flavor.

With the Geumgang, grainy aromas and chocolate flavors are pared down by a sour bite and bitter aftertaste.

To achieve that balance, Park says he restrains the amount of roasted malt barley used, which makes the dark ale taste lighter.

That sounds more to my taste, bud. No, not Bud (though I admit to enjoying one of those after a workout). But as for Geumgang Mountain Dark Ale, I do hope that this Leninist label is tongue-in-cheek:


I think that it is meant in glorious socialist irony, given these words from the Craftworks description of the drink:

Take a walk on the dark side! Our Geumgang Dark Ale celebrates the forbidden mystique of North Korea's Geumgangsan, the only mountain in the North you'd ever want to visit! A malty, dark ale with a nutty taste, this brew is not for the timid. Bold, brash, and a little dangerous, our dark ale is so good, you'll be ordering it by the Dear Liter!

The "Dear Liter"? I thought it was inexpensive! And by what metric will we order when the 'Dear Leader' is gone and the Young General takes over? Whatever wordplay that comes down to us from Pun-yang City, the ale will surely rank four stars, generally speaking! But how does one get to this nutty joint? Ms. Oh has provided directions:

Craftworks Taphouse and Bistro is located in Itaewon near Noksapyeong Subway Station Line 6, Exit 2.

To get there just walk straight out the subway exit until you reach the underpass. Enter the underpass to cross the street and take the exit to your left. After you get out of the underpass, cross the street and pass NOXA. Craftworks will be to your left, a bit hidden from the main road.

That doesn't sound too complicated. I'm sure that my drinking buddy Sperwer can figure it out and lead me there.

Recognizing Kim Seong-Kon at the Daesan Literary Awards Ceremony

Daesan Literary Awards Logo

(Image from Daesan Foundation)

Though I didn't recognize the author Ch'oe Yun at last Friday's Daesan Literary Awards ceremony, I did happen to recognize someone else whom I'd also never met before. I had just arrived at the 20th floor of the Seoul Press Club building and greeted the translator Brother Anthony, whom I've known for years now.

To be precise, I've known Brother Anthony ever since my days at Hanshin University way back in 2001, when I first learned of his Sogang University website and contacted him by email about something or other having to do with English literature. I think that I was asking his advice about how to establish myself as a literary scholar in Korea since my background was history and religious studies. I can't say that I've been especially successful, academically, but I have managed to publish regularly as a scholar and critic . . . which might or might not be relevant to this anecdote.

At any rate, I greeted Brother Anthony, who told me that he couldn't stay for the ceremony due to the scheduled weekly prayers required by his Taize monastic community. He had decided to make a brief early appearance at the celebration because he had also served as a literary judge on the same board as I. Anyway, as we were speaking, Brother Anthony stopped a Korean man who was passing by and started to introduce us. I didn't catch the man's name, but he looked so familiar that I was certain that I had seen him before. As we shook hands, I said:

"You look very familiar. Perhaps we've met at a conference?"

I looked more closely as his face came into focus for me, and I knew who he was.

"Oh, now, I recognize you from your photo. You write for the newspaper! I read your weekly column."

The man looked briefly puzzled, then realized what I was talking about.

"Ah, the Korea Herald."

"Right," I agreed. "I really enjoy your column."

We then parted, and I was feeling good about having recognized the man's face since I'm often very poor at placing people's names and faces. In fact, I once failed to recognize the president of Korea University when he greeted me in the hallway outside my Korea University office even though he had personally interviewed me only weeks before when I had applied for my position there. That was one of my most embarrassing moments. In my defense, I should note that I had been up since 3:00 a.m. that morning, grading student essays.

I was thus feeling good -- as I said -- about recognizing the columnist's face. I recalled, also, that he was a professor at Seoul National University. I could not, however, dredge up his name, but a few minutes later, as I sat down at my table, he showed up again and handed me his card.

"Kim Seong-Kon," I read aloud, then rummaged around in my bag for my own cards and handed him one.

He looked at it carefully, then exclaimed, "Ah, the famous Dr. Hodges!"

I laughed, assuming that he was joking, and we parted again. But I then wondered if he had been joking. I had probably better hope so, for if I'm 'famous', then my fame is likely to be of the infamous sort since I've done nothing here in Korea to gain any positive fame.

But rather than go into the details of my infamy, I'd better just leave things at that . . .

Americans learning a little history . . .

Korean Academy for Educators

(Image from Korea Herald)

Speaking as a historian, I'm all for people learning more history. Indeed, if folks generally were more interested in history, I'd likely have an academic position somewhere teaching that subject . . . rather than one in which I spend my time trying to teach students the fundamentals of essay writing. So when An Ji-yoon reported in the Korea Herald on "Educating U.S. teachers about Korea" (November 26, 2009), I thought that this sounded like a good thing:

The Korea Academy for Educators is a private, nonprofit, nonpartisan organization based in Los Angeles, dedicated to informing American educators about Korean history and culture and the general Korean-American experience in order to promote cross-cultural understanding.

I especially appreciate the fact that the Korea Academy for Educators (KAE) is nonpartisan . . . or is it? Mary Connor, director of the KAE, offers an example of what they teach:

"For instance, Koreans should work to educate Americans about . . . the role of the U.S. in Korean history and the fact that we divided a country that had been unified for centuries."

I suppose that in an interview, one doesn't always speak with precision, but Ms. Connor's way of putting things doesn't sound especially nonpartisan. Saying that America divided Korea sounds remarkably like a talking point for the very partisan, 'progressive' Korean left. Based on the evidence, I'd have to agree with Robert Koehler, whose blog alerted me to this article, and echo his opinion that the KAE folks sound like the last people who ought to be teaching Americans about Korean history if the aim, as reported by An Ji-yoon, is to "ensure that Korean history and culture are correctly taught":

"In American courses on the history and culture of other countries, China and Japan are well covered, but Korea is not. This is one of the main reasons for my commitment to educating Americans about Korea. I want to help fill that void and ensure that Korean history and culture are correctly taught in American classrooms."

Teaching American instructors that the United States "divided a country that had been unified for centuries" isn't the best way to "promote cross-cultural understanding." It sounds more like one of those typical but inaccurate formulas found in politically 'correct' projects that promote American feelings of inferiority and guilt.

In a pseudonymous comment posted to Koehler's blog entry, a certain Seokso alluded in irony to the implications of expecting Americans to know detailed history on every part of the world:

Frankly, I was disgusted by my American teachers who totally failed to teach me about Korea and its important position in the world. Not only that, but they also neglected to teach units on Afghanistan, Albania, Algeria, Andorra, Angola, Antigua, Argentina, Armenia, Australia, Austria, Azerbaijan . . . . See where I'm going with this?

Netizen Kim, however, objected to Seokso's analogy:

Well, if you live in an Empire, the history book of the Empire is bound to be rather thick. It stands to reason, however, that the parts of the world that the American Empire has affected greatly (like as in millions of people dying in a war) should at least get more than a footnote treatment. Unlike, say, Andorra.

Aside from yet another instance of the currently very popular, but also very imprecise and misleading use of the term "empire," I have to agree that Netizen Kim has a point. There is, however, a downside to Americans learning more history, as I noted:

Agreed, NK. Andorra's historical drama gets sufficient attention from Max Frisch and thus needs no additional scrutiny from the US, especially given the American way of learning about foreign countries. I believe that it was Ambrose Bierce who quipped that "War is God's way of teaching Americans geography," so all of you out there grousing that Americans are still too ignorant of the world, take care in what you wish for . . . you might just get it.

Let's keep that in mind . . .

Ex-Student Blogs Gypsy Scholar!

The Western Heritage

- Kagan, Ozment, Turner -

Ex-Student on my Teaching, my Blog, my Self

(Image from Pearson Education)

A couple of days ago, as I was checking my Site Meter, I noticed that someone had visited from a website hosted by Naver, a Korean internet service. Curious about that, I clicked and found that a certain 'Zhunbei,' a former Korean student of mine from my Western Civilization course at Korea University, had posted a February 2008 blog entry about me . . . in Korean!

Well, the Korean-language thing is not actually surprising, but as long-time readers know, I make absolutely no claims to expertise in Korean, so I asked my wife to read the post and tell me what it said. She quickly rattled off what the student had written, but she had no time to help translate it closely, and I had no time to write down what she'd said until now. I have therefore had to rely mostly on "Google Translate," assisted by my memory of what Sun-Ae had told me, and both are very faulty instuments in this instance.

You can go to the site itself if you are interested in the Korean original, which was written in response to a piece that I had composed for the Korea Herald way back in February of this year, a tongue-in-cheek "Expat Living" column that my former student posted under the remarks about me in Korean, for which I offer below this very approximate paraphrase in English:

The author of the column was my instructor at university two years ago in Western Civilization (The Western Heritage), but he usually teaches literature courses. His full name is Horace Jeffery Hodges.

Now a professor at Kyung Hee University, he is very unusual and humorous, so you don't forget him. He has an extraordinarily high, bulging forehead, and the wrinkles around his mouth are hidden by his moustache. On his head, as a covering, he always wears a Turkish-like cap to hide his lack of hair. He would never tell us his age, so I can't even guess how old he is. Having studied English Literature in the United States, he's now teaching it here.

He always made a thorough search for plagerism in our essays, which he seemed pleased to confirm through a few simple Google searches. He noted every error -- even spelling and punctuation -- on our essays, which he also returned to us.

Thanks to his blog, I've become a morning person, for he gets up every morning around 4-5 to write. Sometimes, you can read what he has written about English literature, but at other times, he tells stories about his childhood home. The writing is sometimes intimidating, but it is also witty and humorous as well as fun and informative.

Some additional information . . . he seems proud of American traditions . . . and also seems to have a certain pride for the rural area in the United States where he comes from. He seems to be a strong believer in Christianity . . . and he presented Nietzsche's ideas as a good lesson of how one thinks when one does not believe. Looking at the contents of the religious blogs on his blog roll, there seem to be many. And his anti-Islamist sentiment is strong. Sometimes, the entries are about problems in Islam.

Finally, he takes pride in English Literature, and his article in the Korea Herald argues for the purity of the right phrasing and rejects impure, sexually allusive language in English writing. This man wants people to pay much closer attention to purifying language, so he writes his critique.

Interesting . . . to me, anyway. I had to guess at the meaning of some parts because "Google Translator" garbles a lot of things in translating from Korean into English, so I've very likely misunderstood several points, probably many points, and I've had to leave some phrases out that I simply could not decipher.

From what I understand, however, I think, however, that the student overemphasizes my 'piety' and perhaps misses the irony in my language column for "Expat Living," but any readers who notice that I've misunderstood what the student wrote are welcome to post a comment and correct me.

The student's remarks seem generally positive, but I come across as a bit weird . . . which reminds me of a George Carlin driving joke, "Idiots and Maniacs," that puts my 'weirdness' into perspective:

Have you ever noticed that when you're drivin', anyone goin' slower than you is an idiot? And anyone goin' faster than you is a maniac? . . . . [I]t's a wonder we ever get anywhere at all these days, what with all the idiots and maniacs out there.

You see, it ain't me what's weird. It's everybody else . . . which to my mind explains a lot that's wrong in the world.

Expat Living: "If you plagiarize, expect an 'F'"

"Effing A!"

(Image from Wikipedia)

Yesterday's Korea Herald came early, but I was so busy grading that I failed to notice it until nearly 6 p.m., when I finally took a break from evaluating final essays and opened the paper to the "Expat Living" section, where I saw, in great big, bold letters:

If you plagiarize, expect an 'F'

"What sort of jerk would threaten that?!" I growled, my hackles raised at the challenge. Below which, of course, appeared my column. "Oh, that," I muttered, realizing that my editor, the recently-stabbed Matt Lamers, had survived long enough -- this week, at least -- to re-title my latest "Language Column," which I'd modestly titled "Netting the plagiarist" (or something innocuous). I guess that I'd better hold off on that glowing obituary that I've already written for him. Better luck next time, Matt. Anyway, here's what I wrote on language:

The academic plague called "plagiarism" has a fascinating etymology, as I have recently learned, for it penultimately derives from the Latin word for "kidnapping," plagium, from plaga, "net" - an obviously handy device for nabbing the unfortunate individual to be abducted and held for ransom. More directly, "plagiarism" stems from the Latin plagiarius, by way of the obscure English synonym "plagiary." A plagiarius was a kidnapper!

I had never realized that plagiarism was such a serious crime, but, armed with this borrowed erudition, I henceforth intend not merely to flunk plagiarists, but also to arrest and march them off to jail, where they can reflect on their crime and reform their behavior. Students shall learn that plagiarizing a term paper has dire consequences indeed.

Many plagiarists, however, believe themselves too clever to get caught. For instance, some who plagiarize from online websites, and imagine themselves cunning, will borrow a passage from one online source but cite a different one. Such individuals think that I will check only the cited source, see that the topic is the same, find no plagiarism, and therefore conclude that all is well. Such plagiarists misjudge me, and therefore make careless mistakes.

One such cyberplagiarist recently submitted a paper on vivisection that briefly summarized the history of this experimental science, mentioning the pre-Socratic medical theorist Alcmaeon, who lived in the Greek colony Croton on the southern Italian coast and vivisected animals to demonstrate that cutting their optic nerve left them blinded. The plagiarizing student cited a rather lengthy article on vivisection, perhaps thinking that I would not bother to read it.

Well, I did not bother to read it; I merely had my trusty computer search the article for "Alcmaeon," and the name did not appear. Obviously, the student had found that name in some other uncited source. My suspicions aroused, I selected a phrase likely to have been copied from a source, plugged it into Google's search engine, and quickly found it in a brief, four-paragraph encyclopedia entry on vivisection that happened to mention Alcmaeon of Croton. Reading through the entry, I found entire stolen sentences and determined that my piratical student had kidnapped Alcmaeon and netted much else from that single, short entry. Further investigation established that the student had not used the lengthy article at all.

I confronted my student with the proof. Usually, plagiarists bow to that evidence and confess. This one, however, proved cheeky and tried to deny the obvious. I called BS on that.

Seeing that I accepted no denials of what was so easily proven, the student turned truly cheeky, pointed to the grade of "F," and informed me: "I can't accept this."

Profoundly annoyed now, I retorted, "You have to accept it. Listen carefully. You are being held to global standards now. If this were an American university, you might be expelled from school. You would certainly get an 'F' for the course. Now, you stop complaining and go work on cleaning up this essay for the final draft. Get rid of the plagiarism, do the work yourself, and turn in a better essay."

The student protested against my unfairness because some students had submitted no first draft at all, so a plagiarized paper should at least receive a grade higher than "F."

"If you plagiarize, you get an 'F,'" I stated. "That's automatic for egregious plagiarism. But only the final essay counts toward your grade."

At that, all protest stopped, leaving only the plagiarist's irritation at getting entangled in his self-woven dragnet.

If only all student protests were so easily thwarted.

Jeffery is a professor at Kyung Hee University and can be reached through his blog, Gypsy Scholar, at gypsyscholarship.blogspot.com - Ed.

I wrote that column by borrowing from a Gypsy Scholar blog entry of a couple of weeks ago, so I suppose that -- like Cheong Jean-gon -- I'm guilty of 'self-plagiarism'.

Now, back to grading final essays...

Expat Living: "Multiculturalism in Korea?"

Multiculturalism in South Korea?

Hanbok Parade at Hi Seoul Festival

(Image from Wikipedia)

My most recent language column for the Korea Herald has posted online but not yet appeared on my doorstoop.

I had to make a few last-minute changes yesterday afternoon to clarify what I meant about Muslims in Europe with respect to my point about radical multiculturalism. I explained to one editor that I was speaking about a form of multiculturalism that had left itself without the intellectual grounds for criticizing even something as problematic as Islamism, which was the term that I was using and which refers to the political use of a radical form of Islam, e.g., the sort promoted by Sayyid Qutb.

The editor suggested that I add another example of radical multiculturalism, so I included a reference to the genital mutilation of young girls, a practice imposed by some cultural groups now present in Europe, and I considered including a reference to the honor killings that also take place among some cultural groups in Europe these days.

Neither genital mutilation nor honor killings are specific to Muslim communities in Europe, for one finds these things also among some Christian groups, as well as among groups that are neither Christian nor Muslim.

That editor was satisfied with my changes, though I see that the editors have attached a note emphasizing that the views expressed are my own. Apparently, I've sailed into treacherous waters. We'll see:

Multiculturalism in Korea?

Back in a youthful decade of innocent wandering about the intellectual landscape of Europe from 1986 to 1995, I reveled in the multicultural world that I believed was being constructed there in that postmodern paradise.

What eventually came to be called the European Union was already a community of nations and therefore of cultures, which seemed like a perfectly good thing since the results for me personally were the enjoyment of delicious, ethnic foods, the challenge of new languages, the nurturing of international friendships, and, of course, the possibility of romantic intrigues across cultures.

What I only came to see clearly over time was that the multiculturalism that I had enjoyed was a moderate sort founded upon Western values and largely characterized by European cultures, a European multiculturalism, albeit with a few scattered communities of non-European cultures. This was largely a multiculturalism of human rights, individual freedoms, democratic values, and enlightened judgment. In short: moderate, constructive multiculturalism.

I have since become aware of another sort of multiculturalism, one founded upon the assumptions of a radical cultural relativism, probably borrowed from cultural anthropology, that takes as indisputable the belief that all cultures are equal and that no culture can legitimately pass judgment upon another since the values that one appeals to in passing judgment are derived from one's own culture rather than from some universal standard that is not culturally bound.

This radical multiculturalism, despite its intrinsic inconsistency -- is cultural relativism absolutely true for every culture? -- has come to exert such a powerful influence upon European thinking that Europeans often find themselves without the intellectual resources to repudiate such a practice as the female genital mutilation imposed by some cultural groups or to vigorously criticize Islamists who would wish to impose a stringent form of Islamic law upon Muslims now living in Europe. Some prominent Europeans actually capitulate to the Islamists. Such a public intellectual as Rowan Williams, the Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury, has openly spoken in favor of allowing Islamic courts to be established and given some degree of authority over Europe's Muslims. Such a move would constitute not a moderate, constructive multiculturalism but a step toward a deconstructive, radical multiculturalism instead.

But what does all this have to do with Korea? Not terribly much -- not yet, anyway. Multiculturalism exists in Korea only as a word, not as a clear and distinct concept, for it is usually conflated with multiethnicity, as though the two terms meant the same thing. Admittedly, an ethnic group usually does carry its own culture, but no necessary connection binds ethnicity to culture, so an expat living here might wonder if the Korean language makes no distinction between multiculturalism and multiethnicity.

Not being a Korean-language columnist, I checked with my wife for the Korean terms, and she explained to me that the Korean for multiculturalism is "damunhwajui" (다문화주의), whereas the Korean for multiethnicity is "dainjong" (다인종). After making this distinction, she added that the latter term rarely gets used in Korea because the word sounds too negative. Multiethnicity can hardly be a positive thing in a country that still celebrates the purity of its Korean blood. Koreans therefore prefer to use the term "multiculturalism" even when they are talking about "multiethnicity."

This misuse leads to misunderstanding even in Korea's English-language newspapers. Articles on international marriages -- or "gukjaegyulhon" (국제결혼) -- refer to the children as multicultural children even when the children are growing up in Korea, attending Korean schools, and becoming culturally Korean. Such children are not multicultural, but could more accurately be called multiethnic, in the limiting sense of mixed ethnicity.

Korea may therefore be developing into a multiethnic society if we mean by this the ethnically mixed children who are becoming ever more numerous as international marriages come to account for over 10 percent of the weddings taking place annually in Korea.

Such a process, however, will not lead to Korean multiculturalism, whether moderate or radical. For a multicultural Korea to develop, large-scale immigration of entire communities settling into self-isolating enclaves and maintaining their own cultural values would have to take place, and that does not seem to be happening.

Nor would that be a good thing for Korea if it were to happen, for the result would likely be an unworkable radical multiculturalism of the sort that currently looms in Europe.

Jeffery is a professor at Kyung Hee University and can be reached through his blog Gypsy Scholar at gypsyscholarship.blogspot.com. The views expressed here are his own. -- Ed.

Well, there it is. It seems pretty innocuous to me, but I'm probably not the best judge of that since I think that everything that I think is innocuous.

I suppose that I'll soon find out what others think.

Expat Living: Assay at an Essay

Writing that Essay

It's all so logical...

(Image from Free Dictionary)

My most recent language column appeared in yesterday's "Expat Living" section of the Korea Herald (April 23, 2008), a newspaper -- as you will recall -- that does not allow links to specific articles, which provides me at least one good reason for posting the article here on Gypsy Scholar.

You'll find no poetry in this particular language column . . . sniff. Yes, it's sad, but I was asked to tone down the poetry since most people don't generally read poetry because they find it difficult to understand.

Well, that's what they said. They also said that people are bitter, cling to their guns, their religion, their xenophobia (oops, foreign, elitist word), and their anti-trade sentiment (um . . . somewhat of a mixed message, that). Who ever knew that poetry could be so alienating.

So, anyway, I wrote the following, very prosaic piece on 'logical' writing:

"The what and the why of theses"

Because students learn best through writing, I require my students in nearly every course to write a research essay supporting a thesis.

People often complain about difficulty in composing their essay's thesis statement, but the basic statement is really quite simple. On some topic that you have chosen, ask yourself two questions: "what?" and "why?"

That might sound obscure, so let me provide an example.

Put yourself in Aristotle's shoes and suppose that you want to write some piece debunking Socrates, your philosophical rival's teacher, whom your rival portrays as having faced death courageously by anticipating an afterlife.

Reflecting upon these views, you ask yourself what you think and then, because you are Aristotle, you reply with the claim that Socrates is mortal. Next, you ask yourself why you think so, and you give as your reason the fact that Socrates is human.

You then compose your thesis statement by conjoining your claim to your reason: "Socrates is mortal because he is human."

Note that this has the following logical form: A is B because A is C.

That sounds fairly reasonable, but a concessive clause might further establish your reasonability: "Although Plato defends the soul's immortality, Socrates is mortal because he is human."

Not an especially impressive example, perhaps, but one of my students has already accounted for the statement's intellectual deficiencies by noting that we often fall short of using our intellectual gifts to their fullest:

Although humans have good brains, many people don't use their brains well because they don't recognize the importance of using their brains well.

To help this student use his own brain well, I have tidied his grammar and spelling, but I suspect that he needs to do some hard, brainier thinking before this thesis statement can capably sustain a semester-length research essay.

I will grant that his thesis statement has the proper logical form, but that alone does not suffice, as two more examples demonstrate. For instance, one student, perhaps having considered the oft-expressed comparison of sports to battle, takes that comparison perceptibly further:

Although military strategy and position are different from soccer strategy and position, soccer is similar to war because it has strategy and position.

I rather like this argument's redundancy, though I am not quite clear on what "position" means . . . but at least my insufficient understanding means that I still have something to learn from this student.

The other example -- a thesis statement that I rather fancy -- comes from a student with ecological concerns:

Although many people say that it is not too late to prevent global warming, the earth will be destroyed because it is already getting hotter.

I have noticed this myself. March was noticeably warmer than February, and if this trend continues through April and beyond, I expect that we will be suffering considerable heat by early July and utter destruction by early August.

If this student and I are truly lucky, the foretold destruction might occur even before grading.

Jeffery is a professor at Kyung Hee University and can be reached through his blog Gypsy Scholar at gypsyscholarship.blogspot.com - Ed.

Regular readers will recognize that I have again cannibalized a previous Gypsy Scholar post. Once again, I defend myself with the justification that the work put into my blogging ought to have some practical benefit for me.

So there.

Expat Living: "Dictating language to so and so"

Lincoln Steffens

"I've seen the furniture,

and it lurks (on the horizen)."

- ad blurb written for IKEA,

while riding a train through Sweden

(Image from Wikipedia)

Today's the day that I get to be 'lazy' and just post my latest from the Korea Herald, a column written in response to a reader who didn't like my previous article there on "Mucking up the English language" and accused me of speaking like a tyrant.

I know the guy from the Milton List. He's one of those old unreconstructed Marxists from the 1950s whose readings of what I and others post on that literary listserve are similar to what you'll see below in the quote that I provide from his 'critique' of my previous column:

Dictating language to so and so

I take delight in reporting a most passionate response to my recent column, "Mucking up the English language." Fellow Milton scholar Professor C. Cox has troubled himself to quote me briefly and comment upon my words:

"Horace Jeffery Hodges (in his column) wrote: '. . . Licentiousness, regrettably, is not liberty,' which as Lincoln Steffens magnificently argued, is not just not true, it is viciously untrue. This false contrast of Licentiousness and Liberty, and not (as Milton argued) necessity [and liberty] is the true plea of the Tyrant."

Thank you, Professor Cox. I take heart in having attentive readers and appreciate the gallant corrective, but you have neglected the context, which begins: "Lest pedants once again correct me on a point that I know full well . . ."

I myself would hardly be earning my own keep as official pundit pedant if I failed to draw attention to the unorthodox capitalization of "Licentiousness," "Liberty," and "Tyrant." Professor Cox is either reverting to seventeenth-century orthographic conventions, as perchance befits a Milton scholar, or he is committing the fallacy of misplaced abstraction, perhaps reading my frivolous remark as some Grand Pronouncement.

Or possibly, in hastening to correct me, the good man has simply erred in capitalizing these three common nouns. Well, hasten slowly, sir, so as not to sow the wind, for a stitch in time saves nine, else your white canvas doublet will sully! But not too slowly, either, for indolence begets indigence. Let me word it so:

So ...

I s'pose you know
It's best to sow
Than be a lazy so and so!

Though even the lazy sow and sow
If forced to, though.
I s'pose that's so.

When I say "sow,"
I don't mean "sew"!
If I meant so,
I'd tell you "sew"!

It's just, you know,
We'd better sow
To be in dough -- don't you think so?

Although, of those who sew and sew,
I s'pose also
It's also so.

I trust that I have made myself as vehemently clear as professor Cox has made himself. Vehement, that is; not clear.

For instance, I am not quite certain what the professor means by referring to the "false contrast of Licentiousness and Liberty." By "false contrast," does he mean that licentiousness and liberty are not altogether opposite in meaning? If so, I agree, for licentiousness even derives from a Latin word for freedom: licentia. Or does he mean, instead, that licentiousness and liberty are identical in meaning, having no contrast at all? I would find that problematic, for licentiousness entails the flaunting of rules, whereas liberty covers rather a broader range of meanings, including the freedom that one gains through following rules.

Similarly puzzling in its manner of expression is the professor's larger assertion that the "false contrast of Licentiousness and Liberty . . . is the true plea of the Tyrant." In identifying a "false contrast" as a "true plea," professor Cox might appear to be asserting a contradiction, but I think that I understand his meaning. The expression "true plea of the Tyrant" should be read as "true Tyrant's plea." The professor means that I expressed myself with the voice of a genuine tyrant when I wrote these words:

"Licentiousness, regrettably, is not liberty, and trapped in this prison house of language, I reflect upon my own linguistic crime of passion and perceive that I stand guilty of the very thing for which I have accused Larkin."

Professor Cox is right. I have been tyrannical in judging myself so harshly. I deserve amnesty, and as tyrant, I hereby declare myself pardoned.

Jeffery is a professor at Kyung Hee University and can be reached through his blog Gypsy Scholar at gypsyscholarship.blogspot.com -- Ed.

Well, judge for yourself my putative tyrannical character. I expect that Professor Cox will.

Meanwhile, can someone direct me to where Lincoln Steffens argued so magnificently about licentiousness and liberty?

William Kapoun Needs Help

William Kapoun

Before the fire.

(Image from Metropolitician)

I don't know William Kapoun personally, but the fire that trapped him in his apartment and burned him over some two-thirds of his body has reminded me of a danger that most of us, whether foreigner or native, face through living in Korea.

William Kapoun

After the fire.
(Image from Metropolitician)

As reported by Kang Shin-who, writing for The Korea Times, the twenty-six-year-old teacher "lived in an unsafe apartment" in which there was "no sprinkler system or fire alarm and he had only one exit, which was blocked by the fire." Lest one imagine that Mr. Kapoun freely chose this fire-trap apartment, note that these are the conditions under which very many people live in Korea, despite the otherwise modern conditions in this high-tech country.

The apartment that my family and I live in is only scarcely better, and I'm relieved that we live only on the second floor, from which we can safely leap if necessary.

I discovered Mr. Kapoun's plight through reading of him at Mike Hurt's blog, Scribblings of the Metropolitician, as well as at Robert Koehler's blog, The Marmot's Hole. I know Robert and have met Mike, and both of them link to the same website set up by Mr. Kapoun's family and friends requesting help with the cost.

My understanding is that originally, Mr. Kapoun was without insurance because his employer had no policy to cover him but that national insurance has been extended to cover some of his costs, as noted by Matthew Lamers in a Korea Herald article.

Mr. Lamers is the man who invited me to write the language column for the Korea Herald's foreign section, Expat Living, and I received this email from him yesterday:

I am writing to all Expat Living writers to let you know, if you didn't already hear, of a tragedy that happened on Feb. 25. An English teacher, Bill Kapoun, was critically injured in an apartment fire and is currently in intensive care with third degree burns over much of his body. After you include the cost of a Medivac back to the U.S., costs to his family are likely to soar north of $200,000.

If you could use your extensive social networks to spread awareness, it could potentially do a lot of help for this young man, and his family, too. A lot of fundraising events are in the works. I wrote an article yesterday, attached, for more information.

This also raises a lot of important issues that we sometimes overlook because of the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, such as medical insurance, smoke detectors, an escape route, and fire extinguishers.

I had already considered blogging about Mr. Kapoun's circumstances, and Matt's email convinced me to do so even though I don't know that my social network is especially extensive, but every little bit helps. Sun-Ae and I have made a financial contribution.

If you can help, then make your checks payable to the Help Bill Fund, and mail them to:

Help Bill Fund
P.O. Box 283
Bloomington, IN 47402
USA

If you are living in Korea, then you can transfer funds directly into this account:

KB Bank
794002 04 03 1635
Warren Franklin-William Fund

More information is regularly forthcoming at the Save Bill Kapoun blog.

UPDATE: I regret to inform everyone that William Kapoun has passed away due to injuries sustained from the fire that left some two-thirds of his body burned. Apparently, he died yesterday (Saturday, March 8th) sometime after I had posted my blog entry. Details are available in this article from today's Korea Times (Kang Shin-who, "Foreign Teacher Dies of Injuries From Fire," Sunday, March 9, 2008). Thank you to any who may have contributed, for your generosity has helped Mr. Kapoun's family cover part of the hospital costs. According to the article, 60,000 dollars has been donated, which is a pretty substantial portion of the estimated cost of 80,000 dollars. I'm sure that the family would appreciate help in covering the remaining 20,000 if any readers can spare the money. Again, thank you.

Expat Living: "Mucking up the English language"

Philip Larkin

Don't trust this guy alone

with your language!

(Image from channel4.com)

Well, that time has again come around, when what goes around comes around, namely, another of my Expat language columns packing a rounder to wallop a bounder on the chin.

I refer to the weakly double-chinned fellow above.

Ordinarily, one should not speak ill of the dead, who aren't around to talk back, but Mr. Larkin's poetry still raises a ruckus, so I'll make an exception in larrupin' Larkin's case.

Ladies and gentlemen . . . my rejoinder to the man and one of his poems:

Mucking up the English language

An assiduous reader has kindly informed me that my column on profane expressions utterly misconstrues the meaning of fuggedaboudit, which is neither profane nor derived from Norman Mailer's fugging novel, "The Naked and the Dead."

Turns out that in fuggedaboudit, the first six letters express not the past participle of Mailer's fug but a slangy pronunciation of forget and thus do not spell out the decline of Anglo-Saxon culture at all.

One might suspect slangy terms like fuggedaboudit as evidence of linguistic decline ... but forget about it. Norman Mailer is not the culprit anyway. I have uncovered a different dead white male whose canonical literary work bears responsibility for the current debasement of our language: Philip Larkin.

I know, I know. Readers will tell me that Larkin's poem "This Be the Verse" does not grease the skids of our decline but merely expresses our slippage. That argument, however, fails as fallaciously as the argument that gangsta rap merely expresses the reality of ghetto violence but does not advocate it, though everybody knows sure as shootin' that gansta rap glorifies street violence.

Indeed, the former argument fails even more egregiously, for Larkin's poem does not merely cite the "f word," it actively uses that word -- as if gangsta rappers were to fire off uzis on stage to enhance their performances.

Those who have never read Larkin's verse may imagine that I exaggerate, so allow me to quote his profane poem in full, excepting a minor bowdlerization in the offending word:

This Be the Verse

They f--- you up, your mum and dad,
They may not mean to but they do
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra just for you.

But they were f----- up in their turn
By fools in old style hats and coats
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can
And don't have any kids yourself.

No kids? As if that would stop our descent when it would in fact effect our terminal decline. Well, fight fire with fire, I always say, so I have composed my own little poem of unfriendly fire aimed in Larkin's direction:

This Be the Worse

When Philip Larkin wrote, that cad,
In nineteen-seventy-f------ -two,
He fouled me with the fault he had
Of saying well what isn't true.

But he was f----- up in his turn
From closely cultivating oats
That he had wildly sown to learn
What he could then shove down our throats.

"Man hands on misery to man"?
His own sits there upon my shelf.
"Get out as early as you can"?
At least he had no kids himself.

Lest pedants once again correct me on a point that I know full well, let me admit that Larkin wrote his poem in nineteen-seventy-one, but that would destroy my rhyme scheming, and given the choice between a pedant's accuracy and saying well what isn't true, I prefer the latter. Besides, I have poetic licentiousness and can do as I will.

Licentiousness, regrettably, is not liberty, and trapped in this prison house of language, I reflect upon my own linguistic crime of passion and perceive that I stand guilty of the very thing for which I have accused Larkin. In St. Paul's apt words: "Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things."

Peccavi. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Jeffery is a professor at Kyung Hee University and can be reached through his blog Gypsy Scholar at gypsyscholarship.blogspot.com -- Ed.

So it goes, "Mucking up the English language," and you can also read it online in the Expat Living section at the Korea Herald site . . . if you can find it there in spite of the website's bugginess.

Expat Living: "Profane expressions: fuggedaboudit"

Today's Korea Herald has my latest Expat Living column on language . . . which strikes me as odd, for it was supposed to have published my next-to-latest column. That other one would have been more appropriate, for it dealt with Ozark dialect, and I'm currently visiting family and friends in the Ozarks.

However, I must face profane reality, as does my column itself, so unless the use of explicit profanity offends you, go look for my column under Expat Living on the Korea Herald's buggy website with distracting popups -- or read it all here on Gypsy Scholar:

"Profane expressions: fuggedaboudit"

Although my old buddy Al Termini, who drove the Gutenberg Express between the Stanford and Berkeley libraries back in the 1980s, would litter his language with profane expressions like fuggedaboudit, I never expected to see a t-shirt with that word unabashedly emblazoned across its front, but the cursed thing is available at Amazon.com, which at least admits that this is an "Adult T-Shirt." Despite its adult status, however, anyone can access the site and order that shirt!

I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I blame Norman Mailer for initially popularizing the basest form of this word in his World War II novel, "The Naked and the Dead." Here is a typical instance of a character wantonly mouthing this term:

"Minetta was becoming irritated. It was impossible ever to win an argument with Pollack. "Aaah, fug you," he said (60).

Could this word possibly be more crudely spelled out? Mailer's trashy novel should have been banned 60 years ago, but that ship has long sailed and returned with cargo.

Some of that cargo has recently gotten unloaded in John Green's teenybopper novel, "An Abundance of Katherines," which not only incessantly uses the word but even depicts its 19-year-old main character openly hailing Mailer's book:

"(I)t's 872 pages, and it uses the word fug or fugging or fugger or whatever about 37,000 times. Every other word is a fug, pretty much" (120).

In homage to Mailer, this character and his best friend adopt the vulgar term for their own use. Shocking, yes, but not nearly so astounding as the fact that Green's book placed as a finalist for the Michael L. Printz Award in literary excellence!

Literary? A word like that, literary? Why, the word itself is a gross misspelling, as the renowned stage actress Tallulah Bankhead acidly observed upon first meeting Mailer: "So you're the young man who doesn't know how to spell."

Mailer's crude misspelling has spread even beyond the literary world and into popular culture, where it has undoubtedly wreaked even more harm by piercing the virgin ears of any who have ever heard of that rock band whose name was coined in 1965 by the band's cofounder Tuli Kupferberg as homage to Mailer's illiteracy: The Fugs.

Now, many may think me alarmist, but consider the long-term effect of Mailer's illiterate vulgarism. Language already suffers from a deleterious tendency toward semantic drift, and I see no good reason to encourage this vagabond neglect of proper English, so I've written a poem, "Semantic Drift," to warn against Mailer's misuse of our fine English language and to graphically protest his unorthographic influence:

"Wood" now no longer sounds crazy,
While "stout" only scarcely seems strong;
"Foul" connotes nothing of lazy,
And "sin" suggests nothing much wrong.

Words molt old meanings like feathers,
Make speaking a spiel of dumb luck,
Bring us all to the ends of our tethers
Leave us all without giving a f**.

This is my protest. I utterly refuse to use Mailer's three-letter word. Fuggedaboudit.

Jeffery is a professor at Kyung Hee University and can be reached through his blog Gypsy Scholar at gypsyscholarship.blogspot.com -- Ed.

Thus runs my column this week. Tomorrow, back to my Ozark reports...