Keeping up with the Confucians

Keeping up with the Confucians

“You come from a country of great artists – Dvorak, Smetana, Kafka. You go to a great school.
So why did you turn out so immature, selfish, and stupid?!”

I have a fierce Korean friend. His name is Chan. He goes to Yonsei University, where he has perfect GPA. He plays the violin in the best amateur ensemble in Seoul. When he speaks English, he sounds like a human version of Google translate – a bit too perfect. He often scolds me.

I met Chan through Mrs. Kim, my Korean teacher. I asked her for a language partner, and she said Chan was immediately interested in doing a language exchange with me. On the day we met, Chan seemed very excited to meet someone from the Czech Republic who goes to Yale. Like many of his peers, he held some pre-fixed opinions about what a boy from the Czech Republic who goes to Yale should be like. For some reason, the Czech Republic – and Europe in general – seems to strike chord with the sensibilities of educated Koreans. It is associated with intellectual and artistic superiority. Likewise, Yale seems coupled with Korean image of schooling par excellence, the pinnacle of Western education.

I could tell that Chan was disappointed when he first met me. I mean it’s hard to match Kafka and Kundera but I am afraid I might have been very far from matching my fellow countrymen. On our first men-date, I asked Chan whether we could go to movies. “Movies? You don’t want to go to a gallery?” I told him I’ve seen too much art and preferred to relax in a movie theatre. In the cinema, Chan picked the King’s Speech, I chose “Fast and Furious: Unlimited.” On our way home, Chan wanted to stop by at a traditional Korean restaurant. I politely told him that I cannot really eat any more kimchi and asked if I could just grab a slice of pizza at Papa’s Jones. Chan seemed confused.

The next week, we met a few times to study Korean and English for an hour. Throughout our language exchanges, we were able to learn a great deal about each other. For me, Chan served as a great introduction to the Confucian conventions of Korea. His opinions and values deeply rooted in the tradition of Confucianism – respect for elders, veneration of established institutions, worship of education – and lack of fun. Having spent the past year in East Asia, I felt fairly comfortably with hearing Chan’s standpoints that were in many respects very similar to those of his Japanese peers. Not having had much interaction with foreigners, Chan, however, seemed awestruck by my attitudes and opinions.

Everything I said seemed to arouse either disbelief or anger. On the topic of parenting, I shared with Chan a story from my teenage years. When asked by my parents for “a bit of respect,” I told my mum: “I didn’t ask you to give me birth.” Chan got nearly hit by a car on the street after hearing how “disrespectful” I had been to my parents. In a restaurant, I ordered a bowl of cheap bulgogi but couldn’t really finish it as it tasted pretty awful. Chan scolded me for being “selfish.” “Why am I selfish?” I asked puzzled. “You don’t care about the effort of the old cook lady!” “Come on, Chan, I’m sure it’s not the first time a customer hasn’t finished this atrocious bulgogi.” “Excuse me!?!” Every time, I met Chan he scolded me. His anger climaxed two days ago. Somehow, I didn’t save his number in my phonebook, and so when I received a missed call from him, I did not know from whom the call was. So, I simply replied by a text message: “Do I know you?” Chan went crazy. He called me back and went on a manic tirade. “You’re so selfish! Instead of saying “who are you?” you center everything around yourself, you’re asking me to tell you whether YOU know me. You come from a country of great artists – Dvorak, Smetana, Kafka. You go to a great school. So why did you turn out so immature, selfish, and stupid?!” He hung up.

I was really flabbergasted by Chan’s tirade. Am I really that culturally insensitive? Am I really such a shame to my country? Am I Yale’s admission’s mistake?

: NO. NO. NO.

It’s just in Korea, much more than in Japan, the greatness is defined under Confucian terms. To be great stands for extreme veneration of the elders and established institutions, and hard-work; it stands for the lack of self. In Korea, a great artist is someone who works ceaselessly on his craft, practicing every day for several hours without respite. In the West, on the other hand, a great artist is someone original, inspirational, Bohemian and often a bit crazy. Just think Oscar Wilde, Beethoven, or Warhol. In Korea, a great institution only takes students with best scores, the “most intelligent” kids. In the West, however, schools value extracurriculars, character, etc.

I am not Dvorak, Smetana, Kafka or Kundera. I am far from being great in the West – having been accepted to Yale for running a fun high-school blog rather than for having perfect grades. But I’m even further from the Confucian ideal. And that’s why I have been such a disappointment to Chan. He expected a great artist, a Confucian hero, but instead got a European male version of a Valley girl who wants to go to movies, eat pizza, hang out with friends, and have fun.

Recently, the Tiger mothers have been upstaging Japanese earthquake survivors and Libyan rebels. News about “lacking Western parenting” has been echoing throughout European and American media. Allegedly, Chinese economic success is due to the strict Confucian parenting. Respect your parents, and study hard to get into a good school. You can hang out with your friends on Sunday afternoon after you’re done with your Goldman Sachs job for the week. The issue is extremely sensitive. It does not assault Western politics (which we all know is corrupted anyway) or Western economy (easy talk, China, with undervalued yuan and wages). Instead, the Tiger mother invective is an assault on Western parenting, i.e. Euro-American dads and moms are no good. Ouch!

My adventures in Korea have, however, taught me that Western parents can stay relaxed. Tiger mothers might roar but they’re far from biting. Strict Confucian upbringing might work in an isolated, tempations-free environment, but cannot but fail in a world of TV, movies, playstations, and malls. Just like the Biblical Apple, fun is infectious.

Today, I got a call from Chan. He didn’t apologize – and neither did I think he would do so. Instead, he asked whether we could “grab a pizza” tomorrow. I said I was sorry I was not exactly what he had expected me to be. “Whatever. You’re kind of fun to talk to.” I didn’t know google translate knew to use “whatever.”

And so, Tiger moms might drill their kids as much as they want but it’s only a question of time before all the Chans start going to movies, eat pizza and hang out with friends. Girls just wanna have fun. And when the tiger moms start roaring, the Chans might just discount them with a nonchalant “whatever.”