I intervene in an altercation . . .

Seoul Subway Station Hoegi

Wikipedia

At about 5:30 on the subway home yesterday evening from teaching my final Friday class at Ewha, after I had changed trains at Wangsimni Station and had just passed Hoegi Station toward Jungnang Station on the Jungang Line, I heard a ruckus to my left . . . an ajeossi voice raised in command. But when I looked, I saw not a middle-aged man, but a harabeoji, a grandfather type who had been drinking, probably soju. The old fellow was trying to get a young African man to move to one side because he felt that the man was blocking people's passage from one set of exit doors to the other.

The African man was annoyed but trying hard to ignore the old man -- and in fact was listening to music on his earphones, so the old man removed them, poked the African man in his belly, and despite being much shorter tried to physically move the black man to one side, at which time, the latter pushed back, angering the old Korean man, who instantly expressed his upset emotions by further raising his voice.

I recognized the old man as an alcoholic who had two or three times accosted me, mumbling each time in Korean to ask me something that I couldn't comprehend, but I had always been polite, and he had each time relented, so I realized that I knew him well enough to intervene and therefore stepped between the two, taking the old Korean man gently by the shoulders and lightly restraining him while saying, "It's okay, it's okay . . ."

Remembering me, he settled down and complained less loudly, took my hand to shake it, and allowed himself to be mollified. A middle-aged Korean woman, an ajumma, then joined me, as did another Korean man, middle aged and therefore a real ajeossi, and among us, we calmed the old fellow down, though he pushed back a bit at them in his drunken state (but never pushed me).

When he was again stabilized and his attention directed elsewhere, I turned to the African, made the motion of downing a bottle, and received a nod in return, acknowledgement that he knew the man was drunk. I added, "He's spoken to me several times while drunk." The African man smiled and politely asked, "Has he?" I smiled in reply and nodded . . .

Mangu Station came a couple of stops later, whereupon, not seeing the Korean woman, I thanked only the other Korean man for his assistance and exited the train.

Not quite so exciting as that other altercation . . .

Expat Still Living

Hieronymus Bosch

The Haywain Triptych

Not quite like this...

(Image from Wikipedia)

Matt Lamers, the man at the Korea Herald who asked me to write a language column for the paper, invited all of us Expat-Living writers to a Saturday afternoon meal on the patio of Watts on Tap, near Yonsei University, at four o'clock, and I arrived a little after four to find Matt waiting on the street, his left arm in a sling.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I got stabbed," he replied.

I truly hadn't expected that. "Stabbed? Really? With a knife?"

"No," Matt explained, "with a broken bottle."

At it turns out, Matt and another editor were sitting in a park near Hongdae a couple of weeks ago, and two [sic., three] college-aged Korean men approached them and threatened to kill them. Matt and his friend had laughed, thinking it a joke, but the two [sic., three] men attacked, and one of them broke a bottle and stabbed Matt in the arm.

That particular injury was 'accidental.' The man had aimed for Matt's chest, but Matt had raised his arm in self-defense. Otherwise, I might be without an editor.

Matt didn't bother to report the 'incident' to the police even though he'd lost a bit of blood, had seen three taxis refuse to help, and had endured the first hospital that he'd visited do little but send him on to another hospital.

"Why didn't you report it?" I asked.

"I've written enough articles about police inaction when foreigners are attacked that I knew nothing would be done," he explained.

I knew what he meant. When Koreans are attacked, the police do little, and even less for foreigners. Later in the evening, when I told Sun-Ae, she was indignant but also reluctant to believe that the police could be so unreliable. I reminded her of the 12-year-old girl attacked in an elevator whose ordeal had been captured on film, yet the police had done nothing until President Lee Myung-bak had reprimanded them when the video had become publicly available on the internet.

I then gave my opinion. "The old Confucian social ethic is almost gone, and nothing has replaced it except a sense of narrow, intolerant nationalism, so you see this sort of violence against foreigners."

I'm sure that there's more to it. My wife says the young people are simply empty-headed...

UPDATE: Matt Lamers has posted his own telling of the attack at Dave's ESL Cafe. Note also the report by Bart Schaneman, the man with Matt at the time of the attack, in the comments to this Gypsy Scholar blog entry.

Virginia Tech: Typically American Violence?

Woo Bum-kon

H/T Metropolitician

(Image from Spree Killers)

One of my regular readers, JJ Mollo, wondered about my characterization of Seung-Hui Cho's rampage as the typically American story of the "insane loner with guns":

I don't know if we can blame it on American culture though. Does this sort of thing never happen in Korea? The murder of a mayor in Japan strikes me as no different from things that happen here. Some places, especially homogenous cultures, are more peaceful in general, and the people may have less access to and money to pay for weapons.

JJ has a point -- and a good example in the shooting murder of Nagasaki mayor Iccho Itoh. This sort of violence isn't specific to America. Korea, too, has had a very violent history, even during the Park Chung-hee dictatorship, when society was more controlled, a point that has been reinforced for me recently, for I've just finished reading Cho Se-hui's novel from 1978, The Dwarf (translated by Bruce Fulton and Ju-Chan Fulton), which depicts a Korea replete with violence of all sorts and at all levels of society. I therefore acknowledged in a reply to JJ:

As for violence in Korean society, there's actually quite a lot, but since guns are more difficult to obtain here in South Korea, then the violence takes other forms (e.g., beatings, stabbings, burnings, etc.). Still, living in Korea is generally safer than living in the U.S.

As for specifically this sort of thing happening in Korea, check out the case of Woo Bum-kon, who killed 58 persons (including himself) on a murderous rampage here in Korea in 1982. You can find the story on Wikipedia.

Nevertheless, Seung-Hui Cho would likely have been rather Americanized after 15 years in the States, and he does fit a type with which we're familiar.

That doesn't mean that his Koreanness played no role, but we won't know that part until much further along in the ongoing investigation. Everybody has a story, including Cho.

I expect that we'll be finding out rather a lot about Seung-Hui Cho over the next few weeks. Eventually, somebody will write a definitive book on him and his madness, linking the Korean and American details to make sense of something senseless.

And we'll then wait for the next, ineluctable, senseless act...

Virginia Tech: Shame vs. Guilt

Korean Fears, American Reassurances

(Image from Korea Times, 04-19-2007)

The Korea Times, in an article "Americans Show Understanding Over Koreans' Backlash Worry" (April 19, 2007), reports:

Koreans and Americans appear to have different views on the causes of the Virginia shooting spree as the Korean fear of backlash was overcome by an American outpouring of compassion and help.

Koreans, especially those living in America, are still fearful that the recent Virginia Tech tragedy would spawn an anti-Korean backlash but Americans in general have extended their hand of support to Koreans, claiming that this incident had nothing to do with race.

Rather, they say, it was the case of a deeply troubled young man.

The article does not say what Koreans think about "the causes of the Virginia shooting spree," so I assume that what is meant not "different views on the causes of the Virginia shooting spree" but "different concerns about the Virginia shooting spree."

Fortunately, the American reaction so far has generally been supportive of Koreans in America. For the most part, Americans have viewed Cho Seung-hui's actions as those of a profoundly disturbed individual, not specifically as a Korean.

Probably, Koreans also think that Cho was simply insane. Nevertheless, they feel great shame over his actions, as is consistent with the degree to which South Korea is still a "shame culture." They thus also worry about Americans blaming all Koreans. My own students here at Kyung Hee University inquired about this two days ago, as I noted in one of my own comments to my initial blog entry on this Virginia Tech issue:

My students asked me if Americans would "hate Koreans" after this.

I said that I thought that most Americans would see this as yet another very American pattern of "insane loner with guns." I pointed out that this sort of thing happens every few years in the U.S. and that we know the pattern by now.

One of my readers, JK, suggested, "Assure your students that the focus is not on hating neither is most feeling directed; at. The greater feelings here are directed; for." I replied:

JK, I think that you said it fine, and I will pass along your message. My students will be glad to hear that Americans, of all groups, direct not hatred at [Koreans] but sympathy for [them].

We can't exclude the possibility of some disturbed individuals expressing hateful actions, of course, but such actions would be broadly and roundly condemned by nearly everyone . . . I think, hope, and believe.

And I do think that most Americans will focus upon the individual Cho Seung-hui rather than Koreans in general, for America, characterized by a "guilt culture," looks more to individual responsibility and blames Cho but not Koreans generally.

May this continue to be the case.

Preventing future Virginia Techs?

Overview of Virginia Tech

(Image from Wikipedia)

On the John Milton Listserve to which I belong, we have been discussing what has happened at Virginia Tech and how to prevent it from happening again.

One scholar, Carol B., suggested psychological profiles on every potential university student to keep out those individuals who might prove dangerous -- perhaps along with an administrative system for catching those students who might grow dangerous while at university (though this point was less clearly made). Otherwise, she asked:

. . . how many more 'copycats' can we afford to expose our young people to?

Another scholar, Alan H., responded:

What about "our" unstable, disturbed young people, and all who might at some point in their lives be considered as such by teachers and counselors of varying levels of competence and fair-mindedness, 99.9999999% of whom pose no threat to anyone? Are they to be blacklisted from school and employment?

While emotionally, I can emphathize with Carol B., I share the concerns of Alan H., so I posted the following to the Milton Listserve:

All day yesterday, I was thinking about the same point raised by Alan.

I recall being something of a 'loner' as a young man in university -- keeping to myself a lot and feeling alienated from fellow students as I underwent my 'existential encounter with nothingness' for a couple of years.

So ... did I need counseling, or more philosophy?

I'd be averse to seeing this sort of intellectual crisis treated as pathological when it's actually, often, a sign of significant intellectual growth.

Suppose that I had been 'noticed' and referred for counseling. I'll bet that I would have been resentful at the implication that I was 'troubled' and would have grown even more sullen -- which likely would have resulted in a psychological evaluation that I required further 'treatment.'

I foresee a Teufelskreis of eccentric, epicyclic complexity that, once a student were spun into it by administrative machinery, would be exceedingly difficult to escape without the student fully accepting the 'diagnosis', willingly submitting to the 'treatment', and gratefully acknowledging the 'cure'.

"Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated."

Or blacklisted as a threat, as Alan wonders? Similarly to Alan, I worry that, in attempting to prevent a future Viginia Tech, we could do more harm than good.

So . . . let's be careful and make sure that in our concern to catch potential killers, we not set up administrative systems that will treat 'difficult' individuals as pathological threats.

Question Mark: Ismail Ax?

Cho Seung-Hui

(Image from Wikipedia)

I just learned that the suspect in yesterday's Virginia Tech shootings was a 23-year-old South Korean man named Cho Seung-Hui (조승희, 曹丞禧) who had lived as a legal resident alien in the United States since 1992, when he arrived at the age of 8 with his parents.

I guess that we'll soon discover his motives, for according to this report in the Belleville News Democrat, he left behind a note several pages long:

ABC News, citing confidential law enforcement sources, reported that Cho left a long and "disturbing" note in his dorm room. The note, running several pages, reportedly begins in the present tense and then shifts to the past tense. It contains passages explaining Cho's actions and says, "You caused me to do this," the sources told ABC News. (Kytja Weir et al., "South Korean undergraduate identified as VA Tech shooter" (April 17, 2007))

Since two hours separated the first two killings, in a dormitory, from the 30 other killings in a classroom building, I wonder if he wrote this message during that time. The past tense of the statement "You caused me to do this" might refer to what he had already done and was now imminently intending to do. The report says that the dormitory where the first shooting took place was immediately locked down and secured by police, so Cho must have left that dorm immediately after the shooting. If he went from there to his own dorm, which was elsewhere, he could have written a long note at that time.

According to the same Belleville report, Cho seems to have been a loner:

University spokesman Larry Hinker called Cho a "loner" and said university officials were having a hard time finding information about him.

Even the Koreans on campus seem not to have known him well:

Young-Hwan Kim, president of the Korean Campus Crusade for Christ on campus, said his group had tried repeatedly to get Cho involved in its activities at Virginia Tech. Cho rebuffed the invitations and declined to provide contact information, said Kim, 24, a graduate student in civil engineering.

"No one knew him," Kim said. "We had no contact throughout four years. It's amazing. We could not reach out to him."

From the information provided in this Yahoo! News report by Matt Apuzzo, "Va. Tech gunman writings raised concerns" (April 17, 2007), Cho seems to have wanted little contact with anyone:

Classmates . . . said that on the first day of an introduction to British literature class last year, the 30 or so English students went around and introduced themselves. When it was Cho's turn, he didn't speak.

The professor looked at the sign-in sheet and, where everyone else had written their names, Cho had written a question mark. "Is your name, 'Question mark?'" classmate Julie Poole recalled the professor asking. The young man offered little response.

Cho spent much of that class sitting in the back of the room, wearing a hat and seldom participating. In a small department, Cho distinguished himself for being anonymous. "He didn't reach out to anyone. He never talked," Poole said.

"We just really knew him as the question mark kid," Poole said.

Cho has left behind a lot of question marks.

One question is what he meant by writing, in red ink, the expression "Ismail Ax" on one of his arms (presumably his left forearm if he was righthanded). Two sorts of speculation have emerged -- the literary and the religious.

A certain "Ray F." has suggested to Hot Air that the reference might be to a character in a story by James Fenimore Cooper:

You probably already know this, but in James Fennimore Cooper's story "The Prairie," the settler Ishmael Bush, who is attempting to escape from civilization, sets out across the prairie with two key tools, a gun and an axe. Each has a symbolic meaning. The axe -- which can either kill or provide shelter -- stands for both creation and destruction. Given that the VT killer was an English major, might this be the likely meaning of the words on his arm? Just my two cents.

But Boing Boing reports Daniel J. Geduld's tentative suggestion of the main character in the book Ishmael by E.D.E.N. Southworth, the 'relevant' passage being this one:

But there, my dear! that boy has slipped out, and is cutting the wood; I'll go and do it for him," said Reuben, as the sound of Ishmael's ax fell upon his ears.

Hannah arose and followed Gray to the door, and there before it stood Ishmael, chopping away at random, upon the pile of wood, his cheeks flushed with fever and his eyes wild with excitement.

Since Cho was an English major, who knows? Maybe he did identify with some Ishmael character. If so, why not the famous "Ishmael" in Herman Melville's Moby Dick. That character probably used an axe somewhere in that epic story.

But I don't think that any of these suggestions are likely, for Cho -- being an English major -- would probably not have altered the spelling of "Ishmael" to the Muslim spelling "Ismail." The spelling "Ismail" suggests a different source, and this is where the religious speculation pops up. The same Boing Boing report notes a suggestion by a reader, William McEwan, who points to a possible link to an Islamic story about Ibrahim (Muslim name for Abraham):

He left his father after he lost hope to convert him to the right path, and directed his efforts towards the people of the town, but they rejected his call and threatened him. By Allah, he said, I shall plot a plan to destroy their idols. He knew that a big celebration was coming soon, where everybody would leave town for a big feast on the riverbank. After making sure that nobody was left in town, Ibrahim went towards the temple armed with an ax. Statues of all shapes and sizes were sitting there adorned with decorations. Plates of food were offered to them, but the food was untouched. "Well, why don't you eat? The food is getting cold." He said to the statues, joking; then with his axe he destroyed all the statues except one, the biggest of them. He hung the ax around its neck and left.

The connection here is that Ibrahim was the father of Ismail, and his moral fervor in destroying the statues might reflect Cho's 'moral' fervor in condemning his fellow students, for the note left behind in his dorm room condemned "debauchery" and "deceitful charlatans" at the university.

But I don't think that this Islamic story is likely as a reference either, for the axe is not Ismail's but Ibrahim's. And since we're on the topic, I very strongly doubt that Cho has anything to do with Islam, despite the Muslim name "Ismail" in the expression "Ismail Ax."

The question mark remains.

UPDATE 1: My Korean wife informs me that in Korean culture, writing one's name in red ink is believed to bring bad luck.

UPDATE 2: On the package that Cho sent to NBC's New York headquarters, the return address had the name "A. Ishmael," which increases the likelihood that Cho was referring to James Fennimore Cooper's story "The Prairie," with its main character, Ishmael Bush, and his axe (and also further increases the likelihood that this this massacre has nothing to do with Islam).

Gangbangers on Alcatraz

Alcatraz Island in 2005

(Sighted from Wikipedia)

I used to live on Alcatraz.

I mean, of course, that I used to live not on the island but in a rented, second-floor flat of a large, three-story house at the border between Berkeley and Oakland on the avenue of that name, Alcatraz, from where the island could be viewed clearly.

The island, in fact, would have been safer. Every time that I stepped outside, I felt that I was putting my life in someone's rifle sights, which was absurd, I know, because the favored gun for drug dealers was not a rifle but an Uzi, and gangbangers are notoriously poor shots.

I did, however, have genuine reason for concern. Alcatraz Avenue not only separated Berkeley from Oakland, it also set the border between at least two druglords, neither of whom accepted the status quo and each of whom wanted hegemony. The crack wars were thus fought out in the streets around our neighborhood and even in front of our house.

One Friday evening, as I was sitting at the kitchen table studying Coptic grammar, I heard the pow-pow-pow-pow-pow of ... fireworks? One of my housemates, Scott Corey, emerged from his room, as did another, Charles Weathers.

"Was that fireworks?" I asked them.

"It didn't sound like firecrackers," Charles replied.

"It sounded like gunfire," Scott told us, and we believed him because he had served in the Marines and in our opinion ought to know.

The three of us went outside and found, across the street from our house, two young men shot and bleeding on a lawn that they had been cutting across in an attempt to escape a fate that they knew was coming. They weren't dead ... yet ... and maybe didn't die, for we called an ambulance.

But if they weren't going to die that time, they probably would the next time, or the time after that in their drug-dealing game of an Americanized Russian roulette. It was a Hobbesian world with lots of minor leviathans warring murderously for a hegemony that none could manage to achieve in a kingdom where none would wish to live.