Collectivism and the Lack of Individuality

This is a critique of Korean culture.  Its focus is more philosophical than anything.  Koreans are markedly collective in ideas, values, and virtues.  This is both a good and bad thing.  I thought I’d reflect on it a bit in the following piece.  Before reading this you should know this:  thus far I’ve enjoyed just about everything Korea has to offer.  I find Korean people to be some of the most congenial and hardest working people I’ve ever met.  The following is what I’ve observed or read about in my short 8 months here.  This short piece could be classified as cultural criticism, if you’re into labels.  I don’t doubt much of what I say isn’t completely accurate, least this keep me from thinking and writing about my thoughts and ideas.  It’s only natural of me to be critical, in the scholarly sense, of where I live out my life.  I can’t help it.  If you think this is in any way too harsh or condemning, please refer to what I say about America.

I’ve been studying Korean earnestly since I came to Korea about 8 months ago.  One thing I picked up early on was the difference in the uses of possessive pronouns.  English speakers commonly speak of things belonging to them – “my home,” “my job,” and “my country.”  Whereas Koreans see these things as belonging to a group of people (i.e. students, families, or citizens).  They typically use the possessive pronoun meaning “our” – “our home,” “our job,” and so on.  So, from a Korean perspective, the English speaker is remarkably ego-centric.

If you’re ever to visit Korea for an extended period of time there’s one thing that stands in stark contrast to America, or other Western nations.  Korea is decidedly more collective than the West.  They often eat from the same dish, think in noticeably similar ways, and even look extremely identical.  Koreans are one of the most ethnically homogeneous nations in the world.  The CIA World Factbook says Korea is entirely homogeneous with the exception of about 20,000 Chinese!  (I guess other ethnic groups are so small as to be statistically insignificant?)  It is true that everyone looks like they could be a brother, sister, or not-to-distant cousin.  Really.

I admit, there are many benefits to being a collective society.  Familial support, strong social networks, and strong natinoal cohesion (re:  nationalism)  can help maintain a strong social system and allow a nation to endure extreme hardships (or which Korea has no doubt admirably suffered through).  If it’s “our” country then there is, theoretically, no one person, only one country for which everyone must do their patriotic deed.

Aside from the positive aspects, there are a multitude of foreseeable problems with being an extraordinarily collective society.  With collectivism comes a lack of individuality.  As alluded to above, a prevalent trait amongst Koreans is their identical trains of thought; perhaps one could call this a collective consciousness.  I understand that all nations have “their” particular prejudices and preconceptions, but Koreans seem to have a more rigid and unyielding version. Some consequences of this are harmless, even if extremely annoying.  Take for instance Korean music.  When one song is deemed popular, it’s taken in entirely by the whole country.  All age groups listen to the song ad nauseam.  The song is played in mini mart, department stores, and even in bathrooms.  There’s no escape.

Aside from the more trivial things, certain ramifications of highly collective thinking have more detrimental effects.  In Korean society, there is a noticeable lack of creative thinking skills and individuality.  Individuals who fall too far outside the accepted social, political, or philosophical boundaries are stigmatized as odd or awkward.  It goes without saying that people don’t typical aspire to social marginalization, so being an “individual” in Korea is commensurate to being unKorean.  It seems to me that being Korean means acting like all other Koreans.

To illustrate my point, let me recall a conversation with one of my Korean friends about eating rice.

ME:  “What did you eat for breakfast?”
FRIEND:  “Rice.”
ME:  “Really?  Man, you eat rice all the time.  Do you really like it that much?”
FRIEND:  “No, not really.”
ME:  “So, why do you eat it?”
FRIEND:  “You don’t understand.  It’s Korean-style.”

Perhaps I don’t.  This phrase “Korean-style” has been evoked by several of my Korean friends to justify a whole host of things, some trivial and others morally suspect.  It’s somewhat understandable, and rather innocuous, that someone eats what everyone else eats — even if they may not really like it that much.  But the moral/ethical considerations are fundamentally different when it’s used to justify something like female prostitution (an illegal but overlooked practice) or why someone has to drink unhealthy quantities of alcohol in order to be accepted by a work, school, or social group.  I acknowledge that all societies have their issues and that the fear of becoming a social outcast is a social angst realized in all countries; it just seems that the ability to criticize certain social practices or act in a way contrary to the “Korean-style” is a more difficult task in Korea’s collective society.

From a socio-philosophical perspective, there seems to be no recognized social classification or category for those outside the mainstream.  The social corridor considered the vanguard seems to be much narrower and the fringe much wider in Korea than in the West.  In my Western-conditioned opinion, the label of social renegade seems to be an almost venerated position – viz. The Renegades of Funk.  This doesn’t seem to be the case in Korea.  It seems that being a renegade is discouraged.  The stigma of being marginalized in a highly collective society effectively deters “thinking outside the box” and thus results in a lack of individuality.  In an example begging Orwellian criticism, the Ministry of Culture and Tourism has attempted to stop air play of several of songs by the Korean Hip-Hop/Indie group Epik High.  Many of the songs deal with sexual crimes, war, and education — all sensitive subjects in Korea.

Although I think Korea’s expedited entry into modernity coupled with the massive infusion of Western culture and a steady increase in its foreigner population has helped to make being a long dissenter more bearable, there is still a strong sense of “oneness” here that pressures one to abandon the self and conform.  In a globalized, inter-connected 21st century the freedom to think independently and freely is a lauded virtue.  I’d like to see Korea more readily adapt the notion of individuality.