Essay Contest Result

This is my third year working at the Hokkaido International Exchange and Cooperation Center. The Center makes regular efforts to promote a better understanding of Korea by holding various events ranging from Korean classes to seminars introducing countries friendly to Japan. During the last New Year's holiday, I personally cooked some Korean holiday foods and made video contents about how to cook Korean cuisine. By representing our lively Korean culture in a way that no text could do, and seeing how satisfied the viewers were, I often felt that my efforts to close the distance between Japan and Korea were enjoyable and rewarding.

Despite being in a globalized world, however, the barriers between countries have recently grown taller due to the Covid-19 crisis. Even so, the Japanese people's interest in Korea has become more intense, and partly because they are unable to travel, it appears that the counteraction to the oppressed consumer sentiment has resulted in more active consumption of all things Korean. Over the past few months - even in downtown Sapporo, once a barren land of things Korean - the number of Korean restaurants and stores selling Korean products has increased rapidly and the local media have regularly reported about it. It would not then be an overstatement to say that everything related to Korea is considered "sensational" far more right now than at any other time.

From the brilliant performances of young Korean idols under flashy lights to mouth-watering snacks, Korea has been offering a variety of enjoyments, especially to the young generation in Japan, and at least to them Korea appears to be a very interesting country that sets and leads trends. Yet, from the objective standpoint of a Korean national living as a foreigner in Japan, I cannot deny the reality that here, Korea still carries the stigma associated with its past under the name of "Joseon." It was not hard to realize that. Every so often, while casually channel-surfing or watching the weather forecast on TV, I hear the term "Joseon Peninsula."

During one of my classes designed to promote a better understanding of Korean culture, I once mentioned the Korean Peninsula and the Korean War. The next day, I received feedback from a student to the effect that the content of my lecture had been interesting. Explaining the reason for this, the student expressed surprise at the fact that in Japan, the Korean Peninsula and the Korean War are commonly referred to as the "Joseon Peninsula" and the "Joseon War" respectively, and explained that this is how students in school were taught, whereas this Korean instructor had used different terms not known to them.

I replied that, "My country is not called 'Joseon,' so why is it still called 'Joseon' in Japan? A good comparison might be if we referred to the 'Edo Archipelago' instead of the Japanese Archipelago."

After receiving my reply, the student must have thought the term "Joseon" used in Japan might cause Korean people to feel a sense of disparity. The student went on to inform me how the name "Joseon" was added like a suffix to names of animal and plant species, such as "Joseon ginseng," "Joseon schisandra berry," "Joseon mantis," and many more. (Out of curiosity, I looked up why. I found out that in Japan, the name "Joseon" is a vestige of Japanese imperialism and the fact that the Joseon Peninsula was once a part of the Japanese territory.)

Feeling a sense of incongruity about the name "Joseon" in Japan perhaps might be attributable to the fact that I was a Korean national living in Japan. "The Joseon dynasty in the 21st century…?" Hearing the name of the former feudal kingdom that has long since ceased to exist stirs pangs of pain in the hearts of the Korean people, which perhaps explains why we care. In addition, I'm often faced with anachronistic situations concerning "hanbok," the Korean national costume.

During a preliminary meeting before organizing off-campus lectures or classes for citizens, I'm asked, without exception, by the Japanese staff in charge of the event to show up in a "chimajogori" for the event. Even if this option was not applicable to other Chinese or American exchange members, Koreans were expected to wear a "chimajogori" mainly because people were familiar with hanbok from popular period dramas like Daejanggeum: A Jewel in the Palace. For some reason, they assumed that a Korean person would have at least one "chimajogori" at home and wear it throughout the year like the characters in TV period dramas. Since I met many Japanese people who thought this way, I eventually came to think, "That's quite understandable…. The look fits well with what the Japanese perceive as 'Joseon'!"

Leaving aside the Japanese people's preconceptions about hanbok, the word "chimajogori" triggers something in my mind. "Shouldn't they know the proper name if they want to make a request?" Only after duly explaining that the correct name of the Korean traditional costume was "hanbok," which means "clothing worn by the Great Han, or Korea," did I feel relieved. Despite my small but incessant efforts, all over the Japanese media, whether Internet news or mainstream shows, the hanbok has long and popularly been referred to as the "chimajogori." I could arguably say that the Japanese people are not misinformed but rather that something different from what is commonly known in Korea has come to be used in Japan.

Having discussed the dwellings and clothing of the Korean people, I also have something to address concerning food. The names of the Korean foods that I can find in Japan are something of a culture shock to me. The popular "buchimgae" or "jeon," is invariably called "chijimi" here, and even Korean food producers export and sell frozen buchimgae very well under the name "chijimi."

I'm seeing how wildly enthusiastic non-Koreans are about products that do not even have proper Korean names or indeed a proper Korean identity. My point is this: Is it meaningful when the name of a particular culture is widely known around the world, yet that name is hardly known in its home country? As a person involved in promoting Korean culture, I cannot help feeling somewhat deflated. Examples of popular Korean dishes known under different names include choregi (geotjeori, fresh kimchi), chanja (changnanjeot, pickled fish viscera), kakuteki (kkakdugi, radish kimchi), and kimpa (gimbap, rice rolls). The semantic change is so great that these words would be good food quiz materials for native Koreans, but the big shift is also a manifestation of the food's localization. The more localized something is, the easier it is to find and buy. "Chijimi" as well as "choregi" are commonly found in Korean restaurants in Japan. ("Choregi" is known to have derived from "jaeraegi," the Gyeongsang region dialect for "geotjeori," i.e. fresh kimchi.)

So, do the Japanese enjoy eating Korean fresh kimchi? Not knowing the local culture, Koreans might find it amusing or feel proud about it. But what's called "choregi" in Japan is far from what Koreans in Korea think it is. It's an a-ha moment when I see Japanese diners in Japan enjoy eating "choregi" thinking it's a real Korean dish, when the dish is almost unheard-of in Korea.

Thanks to the World Wide Web, modern Korean culture is spreading rapidly to the wider world, but curiosity about Korean culture often ends at Korean dramas, K-pop idols, and the Korean foods found in the contents of Korean culture. In general, global citizens' interest in Korean culture hardly includes learning the Korean language or delving into Korean history. For a proper understanding of Korea and her culture, I strongly believe accurate contents must be provided.

The proper nouns used in the country, for one thing, embrace the cultural identity of her people. This is the reason why Korean traditional kimchi should not be called "pao cai" or "pickled cabbage." And we have yet to settle the recent controversy surrounding the random alteration of the Korean traditional Hanbok. If Korea has so far made considerable efforts to disseminate Korean culture widely, from now on the focus must be on securing the cultural identity of Korea. If Korea aims to clarify that the hanbok is indeed the country's traditional costume, the proper name that the Korean people use must be known and used accordingly.

To get closer to this goal, I propose creating some guidelines to improve the information which foreigners can access online. For example, the oft-used phrase "Experience Chimajogori" that appears at Korean tourism websites for Japanese tourists must be changed to "Experience Hanbok." Furthermore, revisions of the textbooks used in Japan are certainly required, but we could start small and keep things consistent by introducing guides on Korean tourism and brochures about Korean culture.

If the Japanese people start to ask the question, "This is not how Koreans call it, so why do we use a different name in Japan?", then our strategy for promoting Korea in a proper way will have succeeded to certain degree. Like it or not, it is through the process of assuaging people's curiosity, however trivial the question, that they will be able to broaden their knowledge of Korean culture and history.