The Language of Hallyu 9781000895254, 9781032130910, 9781032130927, 9781003227625

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The Language of Hallyu

The Language of Hallyu will re-examine the language of the Korean Wave by looking at popular K-content. In doing so, it will expose the meanings that get lost in translation, hidden under subtitles. Over the past decade, hallyu (the Korean wave) has exploded in popularity around the globe. K-films, K-drama, and K-pop were once small subcultures, known mostly by Korea’s East and Southeast Asian neighbours and Korean diaspora. Now, K-content has entered the international mainstream. Consequently, interest in the Korean language has grown, while interest in language learning in general has decreased. Many textbooks emphasise that Korean is a ‘polite’ language, but this book will highlight that this is not the case. The Language of Hallyu examines popular K-content, including Parasite (2019), Minari (2020), Squid Game (2021), and Pachinko (2022). The author introduces language stylistics to explain how Koreans style their language to suit every occasion. She argues that they do this via a process of visual scanning and social tuning, whereby visual clues are assessed in tangent with an individual’s sociocultural awareness. The author concludes by highlighting the danger of the jondaemal/banmal (polite/casual speech) divide, demonstrating that the Korean language is so much more than polite. This book will be of interest to students and researchers of Korean language and culture, particularly those interested in linguistics and pragmatics. Jieun Kiaer is Professor of Korean Linguistics at the University of Oxford. She publishes widely on East Asian translation, with particular emphasis on Korean translation. She also works on Hallyu and the impact of popular culture in the development of language. Her publications include The Routledge Course in Korean Translation (2018); Translation and Literature in East Asia: Between Visibility and Invisibility with Jennifer Guest and Xiaofan Amy Li (2019); Korean Literature Through the Korean Wave with Anna Yates-Lu (2019); On Translating Modern Korean Poetry with Anna Yates-Lu and Mattho Mandersloot (2020); and Pragmatics in Korean and Japanese Translation (2022) with Ben Cagan.

Routledge Studies in East Asian Translation Series Editors: Jieun Kiaer University of Oxford, UK

Amy Xiaofan Li University College London, UK

Routledge Studies in East Asian Translation aims to discuss issues and challenges involved in translation between Chinese, Japanese and Korean as well as from these languages into European languages with an eye to comparing the cultures of translation within East Asia and tracking some of their complex interrelationships. Most translation theories are built on translation between European languages, with only few exceptions. However, this Eurocentric view on language and translation can be seriously limited in explaining the translation of non-European literature and scholarship, especially when it comes to translating languages outside the IndoEuropean family that have radically different script forms and grammatical categories, and may also be embedded in very different writing traditions and cultures. This series considers possible paradigm shifts in translation theory, arguing that translation theory and practice need to go beyond European languages and encompass a wider range of literature and scholarship. Korean Wave in World Englishes The Linguistic Impact of Korea’s Popular Culture Brittany Khedun-Burgoine and Jieun Kiaer Pragmatics in Korean and Japanese Translation Jieun Kiaer and Ben Cagan A Linguistic Image of Womanhood in South Korea Jieun Kiaer and Jiyoung Shin Loanwords and Japanese Identity Inundating or Absorbed? Naoko Hosokawa The Language of Hallyu More than Polite Jieun Kiaer For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ languages/book-series/RSEAT

The Language of Hallyu More than Polite

Jieun Kiaer

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Jieun Kiaer The right of Jieun Kiaer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Kiaer, Jieun, author. Title: The language of Hallyu : more than polite / Jieun Kiaer. Description: New York : Routledge, 2023. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022060409 (print) | LCCN 2022060410 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032130910 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032130927 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003227625 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Korean language—Social aspects. | Korean language—Usage. | Popular culture—Korean influences. Classification: LCC PL908.84 .K364 2023 (print) | LCC PL908.84 (ebook) | DDC 306.442/957—dc23/eng/20230419 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022060409 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022060410 ISBN: 978-1-032-13091-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-13092-7 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-22762-5 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625 Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

List of Figures List of Tables Acknowledgements Romanisation Conventions

ix xii xiii xiv

Prologue

1

1

The One-Inch Barrier Hallyu Takes the World by Storm 4 Korean-Language Curiosity 6 The K-Wave in the Oxford English Dictionary 7 The Power of K-Tweets 9 Translation Tribulations 9 Hierarchical Hindrances 11 Sleuthing for Clues 11 More Than Words 12 Book Overview 13

3

2

Language Stylistics Into the ‘Language Wardrobe’ 18 Ending Stylistics: Age, Status, Environment, and Intimacy 19 Linguistic Routines 20 Particle Stylistics 21 Interjections 22 Gangnam Style-istics: English for the Vain 22 Summary 28 Linguist’s Corner 28

17

3

Address Matters Think of Me as a Friend 31 Address Ambiguity 32

31

vi

Contents Nameless Faces 32 Address Terms: The Fossils of the Korean Language 33 Nunchi: Visual Scanning and Social Tuning 34 One Big Happy Family? Using Kinship Terms With Non-Kin 35 Address Terms in Parasite 36 Address Terms: An Easy Remedy 37 Suffixes: a/ya, nim, ssi 39 Why Don’t You Call Me Hyeong? 39 The New Oppa 40 Job Titles 41 Director Bong vs Song Kang-ho 42 Seonsaengnim: A Safe Haven 42 Linguistic Injustice 43 Linguistic Capitalism: Ajumma 아줌마 vs Samonim 사모님 44 Second-Person Pronoun Problems 46 Embodied Learning: Gganbu 깐부 47 Summary 48

4

5

Negotiations: A Tug-of-War Between Power and Solidarity You Sounded Different on the Phone 50 All’s Fair in Tug-of-War 50 Negotiation Theatrics 51 Who Initiates the Shift? 52 Beware of Banmal 54 Consequences of the Wrong Tuning 54 Why Change Speech Style? 55 Stylistic Shift: School vs the Workplace 55 Transparent Language: Speech Style Shifts in Squid Game 56 Background Check 57 On the Periphery: Korean Diaspora and Non-Native Korean Speakers 60 Negotiation Online 60 Summary 61 Linguist’s Corner: The Half-Talk Shift 61 Social Media Stylistics The History of Korean Texting 66 The Basics of Korean Texting 67 Social Media Endings 69 Stickers With Text 70 Punctuation Playfulness 73

50

65

Contents

vii

One Decision, Three Emoticons 73 Emoji and Politeness: Case Study 74 Group-Chat Convention 77 Emojis and Gender 77 Summary 79 6

Bodily Speaking Eye Contact 83 Bowing 86 Nodding 88 Posture 88 Scratching One’s Head 88 Silence 89 Nonverbal Expressions in Orchestration 90 Moving Away from the Generalisation of East Asian Gestures 90 Summary 92 Linguist’s Corner 93

81

7

Privately Speaking Age Matters 96 Not Your Average Friend 96 Banmal in K-media 96 More Than an Ending 97 The Other Side of the Coin 98 Banmal in the Workplace 99 The Difficulty of Being a Younger Boss 101 Gapjil 102 Banmal Inefficiency 103 Subtitle Submersion 104 Summary 105

95

8

Formally Speaking Korean Politeness 107 Jondaemal 109 Calling Names 110 Jondaemal in the Military 111 Jondaemal in Extraordinary Attorney Woo 111 De-generalising East Asian Address Terms 113 Translator Tribulations 116 Changes in the Workplace 118 Summary 119

106

viii Contents 9

Interculturally Speaking Diaspora Communities 122 Interactions With Americans 123 Interfamily Issues 125 Cross-Cultural Space 126 Foreign Voices in Korea 128 K-Wave Fandom Communication 129 Summary 131

10 Women’s Words A Woman’s Work Never Stops Except When Eating 133 Linguistic Inequality 135 The In-Law Burden 136 Every Household Should Have Four Sons 138 Socioeconomic Stakes Are High 139 Does Language Make Society Unequal or Does Society Make Language Unequal? 141

120

133

Epilogue

143

References Index

146 151

Figures

1.1 1.2 1.3 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 4.1 4.2 4.3 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5

Posters for Hallyu! The Korean Wave exhibition in London Underground tunnels. A popular chain of Korean-street food restaurant in London called Bunsik (분식), the Korean word for street food. Mrs Pak puts her feet up on the seat near Mr Kim’s head, much to his dismay. Mrs Pak introduces Ki-jung as Jessica, in Parasite (2019). ‘Jessica, only child, Illinois, Chicago’ scene, in Parasite (2019). ‘My turn’ written in hangeul. A mix of English and Korean written in the Latin alphabet. A mix of orthographies. Korea’s complex system of address terms for family and friends. Mrs Kim begs Mun-kwang, using ‘eonni’ to do so, in Parasite (2019). Abdul calls out ‘hyeong’ (형), but Sang-woo has betrayed him, in Squid Game (2021). Gi-hun (right) turns to the recruiter (left) unimpressed. The eldest contestant in Squid Game asks if he and Gi-hun are gganbu. Jang Sunggyu (left) suggests to Chaewon (right) that he speak comfortably. Sechan (left) holds out his hand for a handshake, agreeing to treat Jongkook casually by speaking banmal. Jongkook (left) is shocked. Gi-hun pushes Deok-su off of Sae-byeok. A screenshot of a chat where ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ is used to show laughter, whilst stickers show other emotions. A likeness of a sticker pack entitled get the essential emoticons for office workers~. An example of two stickers that are very positive. Examples of three stickers showing a range of emotions. Screenshots presented as evidence in court in Extraordinary Attorney Woo Youngwoo (2022).

6 7 12 24 25 26 27 28 36 38 40 43 48 52 53 58 68 71 72 72 74

x

Figures

5.6 5.7 5.8 5.9 6.1 6.2

6.3 6.4 6.5 6.6 6.7 6.8 6.9 6.10 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 8.1 8.2 8.3

Examples of emojis suitable to use for older people. Examples of emojis suitable to use for friends/peers/juniors. A conversation between two women. A conversation between a man and a woman. A workshop participant’s visual representation of their culture’s greetings vs Korean culture’s greetings. Ji-young (left) avoids eye contact with her mother-in-law (centre) to show respect and submissiveness, and thus that she knows her place within the family unit, in Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019). Eun-yi with lowered head, indirect eye gaze, and compact posture when speaking to her new employer Mr Goh for the first time, in The Housemaid (2010). Mr Goh with raised head, direct eye gaze, and broad posture on his first meeting with Eun-yi, in The Housemaid (2010). Miss Cho with lowered head, indirect eye gaze, and compact posture, when expressing shame and apology to Eun-yi, in The Housemaid (2010). A rude stranger makes direct, prolonged eye contact when behaving confrontationally to protagonist Ji-young, Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019). Miss Cho the housekeeper bows at 45 degrees when saying goodbye to Mr Goh as he leaves for work in the morning, in The Housemaid (2010). Miss Cho bows 15 degrees to Mr Goh when the situation is less formal than the morning farewell in The Housemaid (2010). Mr Pak scratches head when confronting Mr Kim in Parasite (2019). Dong-su’s casual body language in Friend (2001). A Sketch Engine search of the word banmal in the Korean Corpus 2018. Im Changjung bows deeply to apologise to the musical director. Mr Kim follows behind Mrs Pak with the trolley in the supermarket, in Parasite (2019). Mr Kim follows behind Mrs Pak with a box as she chooses wine, in Parasite (2019). Mr Kim is silently furious as Mrs Pak places her bare feet upon the headrest next to his in the car, in Parasite (2019). Mr Kim and Mr Pak engage in their final tug-of-war, and in the scene that follows Mr Pak is murdered by Mr Kim, in Parasite (2019). A commoner greeting a man of nobility – Nohsangalhyen-do (Kim Deuk-shin) 노상알현도 (김득신). Words associated with ‘polite’ in English. Words associated with gongsun (공손 politeness) in Korean.

75 76 78 78 81

84 84 85 85 86 87 88 89 91 99 100 101 102 102 103 106 108 109

Figures 8.4

8.5 8.6 8.7 8.8 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4

A junior interrupts a meeting amongst his seniors to inform the most senior officer present of his appointment. He uses a formal style to do so, while the senior officer responds in banmal, in DP (2021). A senior speaks to new recruits who have just joined the army. The recruits also avoid eye contact no matter how insulted they feel in DP (2021). A soldier of a similar age is able to speak in banmal and perform patting and skinship to a new recruit because he joined before him and thus has a senior rank, in DP (2021). Young-woo (right) freezes after taking a bite of her father’s kimbap. Screenshot from Kiaer and Kim’s new English-Korean online translator. American man Paul hugs Mr Yi without knowing that this is culturally uncomfortable for Mr Yi, in Minari (2020). Mr and Mrs Yi are introduced to their colleagues by their employer who claps to welcome them. Minari (2020). Mija makes direct eye contact while refusing politely, in the 2017 film Okja (옥자). Ali calling his fellow contestants ‘sajangnim’, in Squid Game (2021). Ji-young’s younger brother runs around screaming without any repercussions. Ji-young’s mother holds her tongue. Mrs Pak leans casually while talking to someone older than her. Mrs Pak talking to Kevin with a casual posture.

xi

111 112 112 113 118 123 124 127 128 136 137 140 141

Tables

2.1 2.2 3.1 3.2 3.3 5.1 6.1 8.1 8.2 8.3 9.1

Relationships and their appropriate speech styles Situations and their speech styles Some of the address terms used in Parasite (2019) Casual and formal speech styles between characters in Parasite (2019) Address terms and their usage Selection of phrases commonly used on social media A selection of common interpersonal pragmatic expressions, both verbal and nonverbal, classified using this upward-downward notion English sentences vs Korean-outputted sentence from Google Translate Inputted vs outputted pronouns Types of sentence ending Address-term romanisations versus fandom romanisations

20 21 37 38 47 69 82 116 117 117 131

Acknowledgements

When I came to Britain 20 years ago, people didn’t know much about Korea. I remember that I was once in Camden Market, and I told someone that I come from Korea. I was surprised when they responded asking whether I was from the east or west! Since then, Hallyu has grown a lot – more than I could ever have imagined. Currently, there is an entire exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum dedicated to Hallyu. Korean popular culture is quite literally in the heart of London. I can’t quite believe it. I have endeavoured to write this book in an accessible manner so that all those now interested can learn about Korean language and culture in a fun and interesting way. I am very grateful to my colleagues, students, and journalists, who engaged with me at the various stages of this project. I am especially grateful to Louise Hossien, who helped me throughout. I also wish to express thanks to the Korea Foundation for supporting my fieldwork in 2021. This publication was supported by the Korean Studies Grant Program of the Academy of Korean Studies (AKS-2020-R-16).

Romanisation Conventions

At least 20 different systems for the romanisation of Korean have appeared in printed media, of which the McCune-Reischauer, Yale, and Revised Romanisation systems are the most widely accepted. In this text, apart from when presenting direct quotations from sources that use another form of romanisation, we have adopted the Revised Romanisation system. We have taken this route to make Korean words and phrases pronounceable for readers or viewers, regardless of their knowledge of the Korean language. Generally, the convention followed throughout this book is that, on every first occasion when a foreign word is presented, the word is provided in the following order and style: romanisation in italics, followed by the word in its own language, for example, hangeul for Korean or hiragana for Japanese, and finally the English translation in brackets. Following the first mention of a foreign word, the italicised, romanised form of the word is then presented on its own. There are occasions where it is necessary to present a word in its original language as well, or to mention its English translation again. For longer quotes, the English may appear first for readability. However, where possible, the aforementioned convention has been observed. In the references section, we have used hangeul script without romanisation to record the sources that are currently only available in Korean, as we felt that including our own romanisation and translation would not be helpful in these instances. Finally, when referring to Korean names, we place the family name first before the forename, as is the norm in Korea.

Prologue

What is the meaning of the K- in the words K-wave, K-film, K-drama, and K-pop? At first glance, the K- appears to refer to Korean, but upon further inspection, this unassuming K- means far more than first meets the eye. K- is the product of years of cultural hybridisation happening both in Korea and all around the world. K- represents a globalised form of Korean culture that is both domestic and international, and commercial and traditional. The K-wave (or Hallyu 한류 as it is known in Korea) is a dynamic version of Korean culture that is consumed by fans through online platforms, be that streaming services or social media. Some in Korea view the K-wave as the opposite of Korea’s 5,000 years of glorious history. They assume an uncompromising stance, whereby the K-wave is a superfluous form of popular culture that cannot stand in comparison to ‘real’ Korean culture. They place a lot of emphasis on preserving pure Korean culture and stopping it from being eroded by what we might call K-culture. In my eyes, K-culture and Korean culture are not two separate entities – they are actually more like two sides of the same coin. We must be able to understand the depth of K-culture, which is so heavily informed by Korean culture. When Parasite (2019) won an Oscar for Best Picture, people in Korea were ecstatic. When they went to watch Parasite, however, many staunch supporters of Korean culture were disappointed – the film indeed did not present the glorious side of South Korea! When the V&A requested to display the flooded bathroom set in their Hallyu! The Korean Wave Exhibition, people were once again confused. Why would the world want to see a dingy bathroom when there are so many more dazzling Korean cultural artefacts? Even though many Korean people are glad that the K-wave has grown in popularity, there is still an underlying sentiment that it is just a fad. To some, the K-wave does not present the real Korea, but an imaginary Korean culture. It is true that the K-wave is not a purely Korean entity; it is a hybrid mix of Korean and global cultures. At the same time, it is not actually possible for the K-wave to be completely removed from Korean regional culture. Many speak about purifying Korean culture, but if we purify Korean culture too much, then there will be nothing recognisable left. The power of the K- lies in its hybrid nature. K- is not only under Korean ownership, but also global ownership. It is dynamic and ever developing. The K-wave localises wherever it goes, DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-1

2 Prologue putting down new roots across the globe. It is time for Korean people to understand the glory of the K-wave and its role in disseminating Korean culture. K- is a multidimensional term that is at the forefront of what Korean culture means in the modern day. In this book, I hope to show the commonality between K-culture and Korean culture through a linguistic lens. There is so much that K-fans can learn from K-content. As readers will see, Korea is so much more than being polite!

1

The One-Inch Barrier

At the 2020 Golden Globes award ceremony, Bong Joon-ho, director of the globally successful film Parasite (2019), spoke of the one-inch barrier, saying: ‘Once you overcome the one-inch-tall barriers of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films’.1 The one-inch barrier refers to Western, Englishspeaking audiences’ disinclination toward watching foreign-language films. Bong suggested that if Western audiences could only overcome their aversion to watching films with subtitles, then they would unlock a whole new world of fantastic content. He was not wrong. There indeed are ample films in languages that aren’t English that are fantastic. However, overcoming the one-inch barrier for Korean-language content may be more difficult than Bong alludes to. Bong suggests that once audiences become accustomed to reading subtitles whilst watching films, they will have overcome the one-inch barrier. This may be true for some languages, but what of those languages that cannot be translated perfectly into English? What of a language like Korean that encodes so much contextual and attitudinal information into the language itself? The distance between the Korean and English languages and cultures is huge, so when it comes to Korean content, overcoming the one-inch barrier can be seen as a much greater task than many other languages. The gap is so vast that English subtitles often miss a lot of the nuance in Korean speech, and as a result, fans have criticised subtitles of K-content, like Parasite (2019), for presenting a lacklustre English translation. The Korean language is enriched with so much additional meaning, be it speech styles, address terms, gestures, or pronouns (all of which we will explore in detail in this book). English has no equivalent for these language features, and as such, we are perhaps overly optimistic if we believe that a willingness to read subtitles will dissolve all barriers between Korean and English. It may, however, be this mysterious aspect of Korean subtitles that keeps viewers engaged. As we explore throughout this book, there is so much contextual meaning encoded into even the simplest of Korean phrases, that viewers of K-content are constantly questioning the subtitles that they are reading. Were the Korean language to translate succinctly into English, then heated linguistic debates on Twitter, TikTok, and other online platforms would never have happened. Fans would not be crying out for more accurate translations (in their eyes at least), and so there would be much less noise around K-content in general. Thus, although DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-2

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The One-Inch Barrier

director Bong presents the one-inch barrier as an obstacle to foreign films in the English-speaking world, he perhaps misses the fact that the one-inch barrier is intriguing and refreshing to English-speaking viewers that are bored of the same old Hollywood blockbusters. Subtitles can be an indicator of innovation and fresh narrative, not just viewer deterrents. This book will help those interested in Korean language and/or content to better understand Korean in context. Learners of Korean will know that a huge emphasis is put on being polite and respectful when learning the language, but I aim to show that Korean interactions are so much more complex, nuanced, and emotionally enriched than just being ‘polite’. By looking at key scenes from popular K-films and K-dramas, I hope to help readers begin to understand Korean in context. There is no such thing as a perfect translation, and as such, there is no such thing as a perfect subtitle. However, by looking at examples of Korean’s unique linguistic features, I hope that readers will gain a better understanding of the Korean language, allowing them to access the Korean content that they love in an enhanced manner.

Hallyu Takes the World by Storm The Korean language has experienced an explosion in popularity over the last decade due to the Korean Wave, also known as Hallyu. Since the 1990s, K-films, K-dramas, K-pop, K-food, and K-beauty have gained popularity internationally. Hallyu first began by expanding regionally to Korea’s continental neighbours, and then spread around the world. Fast-forward to the present, and Hallyu is in mainstream Western entertainment and media, and successful in the Middle East and South America. The late 2010s and early 2020s have been particularly significant in this shift. K-films’ global success began with Bong Joon-ho’s smash hit film Parasite (2019), which received multiple awards, including the much sought-after Academy Award for ‘Best Picture’. The year after, Lee Isaac Chung’s film Minari (2020) collected a Golden Globe award for ‘Best Foreign Language Film’ and a BAFTA award for ‘Best Actress in a Supporting Role’, among many others. Then, during the global COVID-19 lockdowns, Hwang Dong-hyuk’s Squid Game (2021) had phenomenal success on Netflix, rising to the number one position in at least 90 different countries, and bagging multiple awards, including Best Supporting Actor at the Golden Globes for Oh Yeong-su. The show was so influential that even the games and costumes from the show trended around the world, to the point where the phrase Mugunghwa kkochi pieosseumnida 무궁화 꽃이 피었습 니다 (the mugung flower has bloomed) from the Red Light, Green Light game on the show can stimulate crowds of adults to freeze on the spot in open public spaces (as seen across TikTok). On school playgrounds, the games from the show have filtered down to children who haven’t even seen it. K-pop bands have also moved into the mainstream. BTS, whose fans are known as ‘ARMYs’, was the first K-pop group to receive a Grammy nomination for their 2020 single, Dynamite. BTS also collected their fifth number one hit on

The One-Inch Barrier

5

the Billboard Global 200 in 2021. They are the only singers to achieve this feat thus far. Accessibility to and consumption of Korean popular culture is only increasing. BTS has collaborated on singles with Western artists such as Coldplay. Meanwhile, Netflix is increasing its Korean content. ‘What’s on Netflix’ (2021) reported that there are currently 208 Korean movies and series on Netflix, and the streaming service is promising that 25 Korean original films and dramas will be released during 2022. Moreover, other streaming services seem to be jumping on the bandwagon, with Apple TV releasing a K-drama based on Min Jin Lee’s celebrated novel Pachinko. Korean food has also found its way into the mainstream. It is a mainstay at major supermarkets and local shops. It is even selected as the only foreign item in some cases, such as at the Costco café, where the Korean bulgogi wrap is the only non-European item. In September 2022, the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) in London opened its new landmark exhibition, Hallyu! The Korean Wave.2 The exhibition showcases the rise of Korean popular media, beginning in the post-Korean War era. It documents the key events leading up to Hallyu’s success, including the Seoul 1998 Olympics. The ensuing sections of the exhibit focus on K-dramas, K-films, K-pop, K-beauty, and K-fashion. Standout moments include the actual bathroom set from the Kim’s house in Parasite, costumes from Squid Game, Aespa and Ateez’s stage outfits, and exclusive garments created by Suh Younghee. The fact that the V&A opened a ten-month exhibition dedicated exclusively to the K-wave is a testament to its prominence in the world right now. As a Korean person, I was amazed to see that Korean popular culture has gained so much traction in the world that one of the most famous museums in the world dedicated an entire exhibition to it. Figure 1.1 is an image of the exhibit posters that you can see in many Tube stations in London while the exhibition is open. It is very interesting to me that the poster begins with 한류 in hangeul, followed by its romanisation, hallyu, finally followed by the English, the Korean wave. Ten years ago, there would not have been enough interest or general knowledge of the Korean alphabet to put the hangeul and its romanisation before the people of England. The V&A aims to pique visitors’ interest by using hangeul, an orthography that is recognisable but not familiar. I remember doing an interview with Korean news agency YTN in 2014 in which I marvelled at the growing interest for the Korean language in Europe. At that time, there was the sense that interest in the K-wave might be a passing phase.3 Eight years on from that interview, the V&As exhibit is evidence to the contrary. The K-wave is growing exponentially year upon year, and as of yet, it has not shown any signs of slowing down. A question may arise as to why K-content? Why has Korean content had so much success? Over the last 100 years or so, so much Western material has been received around the world, so much so that there is a surplus of Englishlanguage content. Now that the world, and the West in particular, is so diverse and multicultural, there is a desire for content to reflect diversity, and this can come in the form of foreign-language content. There has been huge investment

6

The One-Inch Barrier

Figure 1.1 Posters for Hallyu! The Korean Wave exhibition in London Underground tunnels.

into Korea’s media content,4 and large-scale receptibility outside of Asia. The gritty realism of Bong’s and Chung’s films and Hwang’s K-drama lends them well to a positive reception in the West. Meanwhile, K-pop stars are made into big personalities, and the music is catchy yet different to any other country’s pop music.

Korean-Language Curiosity With the rise of the Korean Wave since the start of the new millennium, the Korean language has sparked huge interest around the globe, both online and offline. For online language learning, this was exemplified by a 94% increase in people wanting to learn Korean in one month on one popular language-learning app following the release of Netflix’s smash hit, Squid Game.5 The growth of Korean-language study is visible offline in schools and universities: One study by the Modern Language Association shows that Korean uptake in US universities

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7

increased by 14% between 2013 and 2016, despite an overall decline in language enrolment.6 There are now over 14,000 students studying Korean in American universities, as compared to 163 two decades ago.7 Korean is the only language in the US for which the number of enrolments in undergraduate programmes is increasing. All other languages are showing falling numbers of enrolments, with the average percentage of change in number of enrolments being –9.2%.8 For K-fans, participation is an increasingly fundamental aspect of being a member of any K-fandom. The differences between the Korean and English languages are exciting to K-fans. Fans want to better understand what they are watching and listening to, and some understanding of Korean can aid this. Fans can easily find free resources for learning Korean online. Once knowing some Korean, it can be used as a sort of ‘social glue’ to a) foster solidarity amongst the fandom, and b) feel closer to the K-media of which they are a fan.

The K-Wave in the Oxford English Dictionary The impact of the Korean Wave is in its transmittance of Korean culture via language. Figure 1.2 shows a popular new fast-food chain that has sprung up in London. Named Bunsik, it mainly sells Korean-style street food, including tteokbokki, gimbap, and Korean corn dogs. Sandwiched between two shops with English names, Nature Republic (a K-beauty store) and Doughnut Time, Bunsik is a great example of how the Korean language is seeping into English-speakers’ linguistic landscapes. In 2021, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) added 26 Korean words (listed shortly) because the words were being used so often online in English-speaking

Figure 1.2 A popular chain of Korean-street food restaurant in London called Bunsik (분식), the Korean word for street food.

8 The One-Inch Barrier spaces. While most words follow the Korean government’s official romanisation system, called Revised Romanisation, many of the words added do not. K-fans often romanise words as they please, picking spellings that look most friendly to the eye of the English speaker, as global fans connect with each other online using English as a lingua franca. It is the spelling most friendly to fans’ eyes and ears. Fans also tend to use unique romanisation for Korean kinship terms. Unni (elder sister, said by women) and noona (elder sister, said by men) would be romanised as eonni and nuna according to Revised Romanisation, but fans use their own spellings. Unni and noona are typically used by K-pop fans to refer to their idols in tweets, posts, and comments to them. The way K-fans generate their own spellings highlights that they innovatively create language. K-fans leave behind proof of which words they are adopting in their online posts, allowing us to understand how English is evolving and embracing new words more clearly than ever before. Far from a fad, the activities of K-fandoms demonstrate how our ever-globalising world is influencing the English language. Non-English words are being absorbed into English rapidly, meaning English now lives across borders.9 No one country can claim ownership of the English language, and we know this because of K-pop. The 26 Korean words added to the OED in 2021: • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

aegyo banchan bulgogi chimaek daebak dongchimi fighting galbi hallyu hanbok japchae KK-drama kimbap Konglish Korean wave manhwa mukbang noona oppa PC bang samgyeopsal skinship tang soo do trot unni

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The OED is expected to add more Korean words to the English dictionary. Words likely to be added include: Hyung – ‘older brother’, as said by a man. Should be spelt hyeong, but fans romanise it to be more readable Dongsaeng – ‘younger sibling’ Hubae – ‘junior’, at school or in your field of work Sunbae – ‘senior’, at school or work. Should be spelt seonbae officially Maknae – ‘the youngest’ Daesang – ‘grand prize’ Sasaeng – denotes a crazy fan who is closer to a stalker than fan Ajumma – ‘middle-aged woman’ Ajusshi – ‘middle-aged man’, should be spelt ajussi officially, but the addition of h makes the pronunciation clearer in fan’s eyes All these words are used by K-fans online regularly enough that they will likely enter the OED in 2023.

The Power of K-Tweets In 2021, #KpopTwitter generated 7.8 billion tweets on Twitter. This number is an indication of how important Twitter is to K-fans. Twitter allows fans from all over the world to connect with each other, even if they are thousands of miles apart. It is where fan translators post translations for international fans, and where fan sites post their most recent pictures of Korean celebrities. Twitter, thus, acts as a bridge between the Korean and non-Korean fans of K-pop. As a result of the immense frequency of communication taking place, a high level of cultural exchange takes place on Twitter every day. Twitter is one of the main places where we can find evidence of linguistic exchange between Korean and English. K-fans on Twitter follow other K-fans on Twitter, and so a community of speakers with a shared understanding of the Korean language forms for each K-fan. Twitter is the perfect place for fans to use words like aegyo, hallyu, manhwa, noona, oppa, unni, and so on, as one’s followers will be able to understand them. The power of K-tweets is not to be underestimated. Twitter has even created a dedicated K-pop-partnerships team, showing that the K-fans are just as important to Twitter as Twitter is to K-fans. The combined efforts of K-fans and Twitter have meant that Twitter is an important platform upon which the sociolinguistic effects of the K-wave play out. We can be particularly sure of this because tweets leave behind public records of how fans are employing language. When considering which words to put forward to the OED, fans’ use of Korean on Twitter played an important role.

Translation Tribulations Alongside the rise in K-content’s popularity, translation has become a mainstream topic of debate in the news and on social media. A lot of the discussion

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is sparked by Korean diaspora or Korean speakers who are baffled by what they deem mistranslations of K-content. For example, an online debate was sparked by Youngmi Mayer’s viral TikTok post criticising the English subtitles of Squid Game (2021).10 One viewer, referred to here as Critic X, criticised Netflix for having subtitles that she claimed would result in Korean and English-speakers ‘watching a different show’. One example she provided was of the English translation of oppa 오빠 to old man, along with other lines that she felt were important to the characterization of the characters and to grasping the main point of certain episodes. Youngmi’s claims were investigated and discussed by fellow fans, who then posted their findings and thoughts. This provides a representative example of how Korean-popular-culture translators participate in educating other fans. An occasional BTS translator on Twitter, referred to here as Translator Y, retweeted the video with her criticism of the original creator’s opinions. Translator Y pointed out that the viral TikTok had not used the English subtitles as reference, but the English closed captions. The closed captions (CC) are not translations of the character’s Korean lines, but rather transcriptions of the English dub. CC are often used by the deaf or hard of hearing, as they not only are transcriptions of the English dub but include descriptions of the other sounds in the media. Translator Y specifically uses Mi-nyeo’s line as an example. She shows how Mi-nyeo’s original line mwol bwa? 뭘 봐? was changed to ‘Go away’ in the English dub, to match the mouth movements of the actor. In comparison, the English subtitles say ‘What are you looking at?’ which expresses the original meaning of mwol bwa? Translator Y argues that it is misguided to direct this kind of frustration towards the closed captions. Restrictions in dubbing due to matching the mouth movements of the characters are commonly accepted sacrifices in the world of film. Translator Y also discussed on another scene with Mi-nyeo, where she uses the kinship term oppa 오빠 (older brother). Address terms are often debated when it comes to the translation of Korean, since English tends to lack satisfactory equivalents. They also mean different things in different situations. A search of the term oppa may bring up the translation ‘older brother’ but it can also be used to address a woman’s romantic partner. Translator Y argues that the word ‘babe’, which appears in the English subtitles (rather than ‘old man’, which appears in the CC), is appropriate in the context. On this occasion, the address term shows Minyeo is trying to appeal to Deok-su by reminding him of their sexual relationship, rather than expressing her juniority or teasing him for being older. Fan translators, like Translator Y, play an important role online, beyond influencing, as guides for the increasing numbers of fans who want to understand and even produce content for the popular culture with which they choose to engage. Moreover, fans appear to want to communicate with each other, debating, educating, and developing translations that meet the needs of the consumers with faithfulness to the products at heart. Fan translators are emotionally invested in the products that they are translating.

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Hierarchical Hindrances There are hierarches in every society, but in Korea, the hierarchical structure of society is much more rigid and explicit. In most cases, those who are of lower status have to communicate politely in terms of both verbal and nonverbal behaviour. Broadly speaking, this takes two main forms: Those who are younger must behave politely towards their elders, and those who are of a lower socioeconomic status must act politely towards those of a higher socioeconomic status. Of course, there are exceptions. If two people are particularly close, then their level of intimacy may allow for more casual interactions. A key example of this is a grandparent and their grandchildren: Although the age gap is large, they interact casually. Levels of politeness are further complicated by whether an interaction takes place in public or in private. A child may talk to their parents casually when alone with them, but if a neighbour were to visit, they would talk to their parents politely. The social hierarchy in Korea is something that those born and raised in Korea navigate every day, learning throughout their childhood how best to behave. Even though it is safe to use honorific or polite speech forms, this also creates a feeling of distance between the speakers. Switching to a casual speech style can create a strong sense of closeness between people but can be offensive if not negotiated properly. As such, there is no one-size-fits-all strategy for choosing speech styles. Korean people tailor-make their own styles of interaction gradually throughout their life, following and bending the rules as they see fit to balance politeness and intimacy within each interaction. In Chapter 2, we will elaborate on what the honorific, polite, and casual speech styles look like, and in Chapter 4, we will examine how Korean people negotiate the switch from polite to casual speech.

Sleuthing for Clues When it comes to age, even a one-year age difference will require the junior of the interaction to use polite speech in most standard situations. Pairing this with the influence of socioeconomic status, Korean people need to know quite a lot of information about any new person that they meet to decide how to interact with them. This situation is comparable to wearing a mask during the pandemic. Suppose you were meeting a group of friends, and some people were wearing masks and some not. You may feel it necessary to ask whether people are comfortable taking off their masks or not. It isn’t a matter of simple politeness. There are a range of factors to take into consideration before deciding how to proceed. Without seeming rude, you would have to work out what others are comfortable with and negotiate what you are comfortable with too. Korean is far more complex in comparison to this. There is a need to work out and negotiate which communication behaviours both parties will be happy with, and it should be done succinctly. Oftentimes, negotiation in Korean begins right away at the start of an interaction, and typically by asking each other’s age.11 This could be asked directly (‘How old are you?’), but is often asked indirectly (as is a common general practice

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in East Asian cultures) in the form of ‘What year did you graduate?’ or ‘What year did you enter school?’ to avoid any awkward moments. Sometimes Koreans also ask whether someone is married or has children, as this could also be used to decide seniority, especially if both are the same age but have only just met (the thinking being that ‘marriage/children = maturity’ and therefore that person is senior). This can be risky too. Often, if you walk around the children’s section at a clothing store, they will start calling you eomeonim 어머님 (mother). Koreans ask for and look for visual clues to help them make the best choices in every interaction.

More Than Words Much of the debate on social media has been about subtitles and the meanings that have been missed between what is said and what is written. However, there are also many nonverbal aspects of Korean communication that cannot be translated. More information about Korean nonverbal communication will be discussed in Chapter 6, but for now we will look at one key example from Parasite (2019). Parasite (2019) provides a realistic example of the violent results that can ensue from insensitivity to the complex dimensions of one’s interpersonal environment, particularly in conflicting hierarchies.12 In Korea, it is seen as rude to show the bottom of your feet to someone who is older or of a higher status. As such, when sitting in a chair, the junior of the interaction will sit with both feet on the floor, rather than crossing one leg over the other – as is common in Western cultures. Figure 1.3 shows a famous scene from Parasite, when an enraged Mr Kim, who is a generation older than his employer, drives as she places her bare feet up on the headrest of the seat beside him – an act that would be considered unacceptable and an insult to the age seniority that he holds. Mrs Pak’s disregard for balancing power with respect in this delicate tug-of-war is one of the many instances that led to Mr Kim finally murdering her husband, Mr Pak. To a Western eye, Mrs Pak’s behaviour is a little distasteful, so

Figure 1.3 Mrs Pak puts her feet up on the seat near Mr Kim’s head, much to his dismay.

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the sentiment does not go entirely missed. However, the weight of blatant disrespect cannot be entirely understood without some previous knowledge of Korean culture. Mrs Pak’s behaviour belittles Mr Kim and is a key symbol of societal inequality in Korea. As per the nature of Korean society, Mr Kim’s age should necessitate a certain level of respect, but Mrs Pak denies his right to that respect. This is another blow to Mr Kim, who is constantly looked down on. To a Western eye, the gravity of the situation may not have been so apparent.

Book Overview In this book, I hope to provide readers with an accessible, jargon-free exploration of K-content and the Korean language. We will journey through the attitudinal meanings of Korean, examining how much nuance is lost in the process of translating Korean into English. What is being seen and heard from start to end in Korean is so indicative of the relationship between two characters, meaning that Korean is a very transparent language. K-content reflects these features of the Korean language too. The way dramas and films are scripted and acted reflects the reality of how Korean people negotiate a hierarchical language and society every day. In looking at selected examples from popular K-dramas and films, I hope to elucidate a) what fans have been missing, and b) how those learning Korean can better negotiate interpersonal dynamics when speaking Korean. This book will focus heavily on Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite (2019), Hwang Dong-huk’s Squid Game (2021), Kogonada and Justin Chon’s Pachinko (2022), and Kim Bo-young’s Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019), which is an adaptation of Cho Nam-joo’s novel of the same title. These are all K-films and K-dramas that have been very popular in the West. As such, they are appropriate for looking at how Korean is translated into English and what is lost in the process. A short overview of each chapter follows: Chapter 2, ‘Language Stylistics’, introduces how the Korean language and Korea’s hierarchical society are intrinsically linked. I put forward the concept of language stylistics to describe the continuous and spontaneous language choices that Korean speakers make every time they interact to show respect or intimacy, or a mix of the two. Language stylistics comprise both verbal and nonverbal aspects of communication. This chapter focuses on the verbal aspects, including speech styles, particles, English, and Konglish. It considers not only how speech styles change according to whom you are speaking, but also where the interaction takes place. I highlight the complex linguistic nature of language stylistics. Chapter 3, ‘Address Matters’, looks at another verbal feature of language stylistics: address terms. In Korea, you cannot simply call someone by their name – in fact, it is more common not to know someone’s first name in Korea, especially as an adult! I propose the concept of visual scanning to describe how Korean people decide which address terms to use by taking a visual scan of the other party before speaking. Accordingly, Korean people decide if they should use a kinship term, job title, or avoid address terms altogether. I also examine how address terms can be used in a persuasive manner. By using a respectful address term, one

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can remind the other of their obligation to look after those who are younger or of a lower status than them. Examples from Parasite (2019) will be provided. I also consider how the address system in Korea is exclusionary to foreigners in Korea, and thus how hard it is for foreigners to integrate into Korean society. Finally, I explore the issues related to using second-person pronouns in Korean. There is no universal ‘you’ in Korean, and often avoidance is the best strategy. All these complexities of address are rarely translated in subtitles of K-content. Chapter 4, ‘Negotiations: A Tug-of-War Between Power and Solidarity’, considers how Koreans shift from polite to casual speech, or vice versa, when the dynamics of a relationship have changed. I look at who initiates a shift to banmal: in offline spaces, it is usually the person of higher status (be that in terms of age or socioeconomic status), whilst in certain online spaces, it can be anyone who initiates the shift. The likelihood of a shift varies according to environment – the school and workplace are completely different, for example. I analyse examples of switching between polite and casual speech in Squid Game (2019), highlighting how the Korean language is inherently transparent. The style of speech that you use demonstrates whether you look up to or down on someone, or whether you view them as an equal. There is no neutral choice. I conclude that social tuning is needed to be able to navigate jondaemal and banmal effectively. It requires years, if not a lifetime, of learning how to read signs and manipulate language to effectively choose attitudinal meanings. Once again, this means diaspora, and those who speak Korean as a second language often end up left out of society as they cannot engage in linguistic stylistics to such a sophisticated level. Chapter 5, ‘Social Media Stylistics’, will examine how linguistic stylistics need to be employed in online spaces too. This chapter reminds us that online communication is no longer a peripheral part of communication; we rarely go a single day without engaging in some kind of online communication. I stress that the use of both linguistic and semiotic resources (emojis, stickers, punctuation, and so on) is different according to language and culture. As such, Korean texting is affected by Korean society’s hierarchy as much as offline language. Looking at a selected scene from Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022), we will see just how important social media language is, as it even holds weight in legal cases. Chapter 6, ‘Bodily Speaking’, discusses the nonverbal aspects of Korean language stylistics. Using Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019) and Housemaid (2010), I examine how nonverbal expressions, such as bowing, nodding, posture, scratching one’s head, and passing and receiving objects all express attitudinal meaning in Korean. Having noticed a tendency to conflate the three, I also explore the differences in nonverbal communication in Korea, China, and Japan. The nonverbal expressions used in East Asia vary greatly from country to country. Overall, this chapter shows readers that Korean is much more complicated than the banmal/ jondaemal dichotomy. Chapter 7, ‘Privately Speaking’, explores how Korean people speak in private – that is to say, how they use banmal (casual speech). Many Korean textbooks state that banmal is a style of language used with friends, but the nature of a friend in Korean is not the same as in the west. A chingu (friend) can only be someone of

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the same age in South Korea. Thus, banmal is actually the language that you use with people with whom you are close in private spaces. Banmal may also be used by a senior to a junior in private spaces too. I highlight the inefficiency of banmal. Although it is a symbol of closeness and intimacy, its existence by nature creates the potential for mistakes and offence. Banmal can also be very difficult to navigate when someone older is working for a younger boss. The employee has status because of their age, but the boss has status because of their rank at work. We will look at the dissonance this creates using an example from Parasite (2019). Banmal being used by bosses has caused big issues in South Korea. Incidents of high-positioned bosses scolding their employees using banmal for the tiniest inconveniences have been reported in Korean news numerous times. Incidents are so common that a new term, gapjil 갑질, was coined to describe them. I end the chapter by looking at gapjil and the issues that the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy causes, and how this information is lost in translation. Chapter 8, ‘Formally Speaking’, looks at jondaemal (polite speech). I reflect on what it means to be polite in Korea, and how its connotations vary to those within the UK. I then examine examples of jondaemal in The Accidental Detective (2015) and Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022). In conjunction, I explore why big corporations in South Korea, such as Samsung and LG, are promoting the use of jondaemal to all employees rather than just to those of a higher rank. The banmal/jondaemal dichotomy silences the voices and ideas of those of a lower status in a company’s workforce. Big companies are trying to promote a greater horizontal work culture to avoid this. Finally, I move on to consider how AI translators manage jondaemal and banmal. I find that online translators randomly match jondaemal and banmal expressions together, meaning that most translations never sound natural. I conclude by emphasising the importance of jondaemal and how it might be better if we always spoke in jondaemal in Korea. Chapter 9, ‘Interculturally Speaking’, considers the Korean language in light of a growing number of non-Koreans living in South Korea and a growing number of Korean diaspora across the globe. I highlight that non-Koreans in South Korea are excluded from ever truly being part of Korean society because they are never fully let into the fold of address terms. I provide interview data from a survey in which my Korean respondents said they would not use Korean address terms with foreigners. I look at how minorities use the Korean language, exploring examples from Minari (2021). Diaspora often stick to Korean politeness rules more strictly than Korean people living in Korea because it is a way to hold onto their cultural identity. I conclude by looking at how Korean is being used by K-wave fans, and the role that they are playing in developing the Korean language. Korean is no longer the language of just the Korean peninsula, it is being shaped at a global level. Chapter 10, ‘Women’s Words’, explores how women face different expectations when it comes to communication. Taking examples from Pachinko (2022) and Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019), readers will see that women are still being affected by Neo-Confucian norms of the Joseon dynasty that expected women to be quiet, reserved, and submissive. The only way that they might somewhat be

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emancipated from these pressures is through socioeconomic status. To explore this idea, I examine Mrs Park in Parasite, who is a wealthy woman. She is able to be more outspoken and still be respected, and the main reason for this is because of her socioeconomic status. I end the chapter by reflecting on whether language makes society unequal or vice versa.

Notes 1 “Bong Joon-Ho Subtitle Speech.” YouTube, 2020. www.youtube.com/watch?v=8GmJc 1HbEDE. 2 “V&A· Hallyu! the Korean Wave – Exhibition at South Kensington.” Victoria and Albert Museum. Accessed November 9, 2022. www.vam.ac.uk/exhibitions/hallyu-the-koreanwave#objects. 3 YTNnews24. “‘사랑해요. 한국!” . . . 유럽에 부는 ‘한국 붐’/YTN.” YouTube, June 29, 2014. www.youtube.com/watch?v=CP5cFDgG0LI. 4 Shim, Doobo. “South Korean Media Industry in the 1990s and the Economic Crisis.” Prometheus 20, no. 4 (2002): 337–350. 5 Memrise. “2021: AYear of Learning on Memrise,” 2022, www.memrise.com/blog/2021 -memrise-learning-review. 6 Looney, Dennis, and Natalia Lusin. “Enrollments in Languages Other Than English in United States Institutions of Higher Education.” Modern Language Association, 2018. www.mla.org/content/download/83540/file/2016-Enrollments-Short-Report.pdf. 7 Pickles, Matt. “K-Pop Drives Boom in Korean Language Lessons.” BBC News, 2018. www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-44770777. 8 Looney and Lusin. “Enrollments in Languages.” 9 Kiaer, Jieun, and Brittany Khedun-Burgoine. Korean Wave in World Englishes: The Linguistic Impact of Korea’s Popular Culture. Abingdon: Routledge, 2022. 10 @youngmimeyer. “#Squidgame Translations Are Sooo Wrong Here’s a Little Example.” TikTok, 2021. www.tiktok.com/@youngmimayer/video/7013820557414141189. 11 Song, Vivian. “Where Asking Someone’s Age Isn’t Rude.” BBC Travel. BBC, 2022. www.bbc.com/travel/article/20211214-where-asking-someones-age-isnt-rude. 12 Kiaer, Jieun, and Loli Kim. Understanding Korean Film: A Cross-Cultural Perspective. Abingdon: Routledge, 2021.

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Language Stylistics

The Korean language intrinsically presents the complex interpersonal dynamics of Korean culture.1 Social hierarchy is mainly established through age and rank within Asian communities. Gender, class, and religion also play some roles in this dynamic. Although in the modern day they are much more simplified compared to those before the 20th century, age and status still influence daily language use in Korea, and are thus vital for Korean-language learners in order to be competent in communicating with members of these communities. Korean is a pragmatically complex system of communication, compared to Western languages like English, but also compared to other Asian languages.2 In Korean, all expressions, verbal and nonverbal, are subject to Neo-Confucianbased hierarchy, and subsequently are highly sensitive to the expression of attitudinal meanings. Rank, age, socioeconomic status, and intimacy play a major role in this, with wealth being the most powerful factor in contemporary Korean society. There are only a very limited number of loopholes for bypassing the system – perhaps the most accepted being education. A single sentence in Korean expresses not only the lexical and emotional meaning of the words, but also relational and attitudinal meaning. This is because the words, gestures, and grammatical forms chosen all convey what the speaker believes their relationship to be with the hearer. It is impossible not to do so, since one must choose a respectful or casual style for every utterance made, be it verbally or nonverbally.3 Attempting to leave sentences unfinished in order not to choose in itself is meaningful. Korean communication can be thought of as a kind of theatrical performance. Koreans are especially sensitive to the interpersonal pragmatic expressions in this performance, which must fit within the expectation of Neo-Confucian social relations. Complexifying matters further, this doesn’t merely apply to verbal language, but to nonverbal expressions too; so even before a person opens their mouth, their gaze, posture, whether they are standing upright or leaning forward slightly, and even the positioning of their hands can convey attitudinal meanings. Both the verbal and nonverbal must subsequently be orchestrated carefully and in alignment with each other, to communicate successfully in Korean. Therefore, embodied learning is important when learning Korean, because the verbal and nonverbal must be learnt together within the Korean cultural context to grasp the multifaceted nature of Korean expressions. DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-3

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For people who are less knowledgeable about Korean language and culture, the interpersonal pragmatic value of expressions can often be rendered invisible. Koreans make allowances for foreigners making errors, however, incorrectly expressing interpersonal relations often causes insult or discomfort to others, and thus tolerance can only be extended so far. We must not forget that insults caused by incorrect expressions of interpersonal relations between Koreans are well known to result in physical violence.4 When it comes to respect-related violence, films like Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite (2019), in which Mr Kim unexpectedly murders his employer Mr Pak, can even be considered partial realism.5 The purpose of this chapter is to look at what I have coined language stylistics. These are the conscious choices that Korean speakers make when interacting with others every minute of the day. Language stylistics comprise speech styles, particles, address terms, pronouns, gestures, posture, and more. The way that these are put together is unique to every individual, meaning that each person has their own set of language stylistics that they use to navigate a hierarchical society – much like everyone has their own clothing style. This book is aimed to be as accessible to those who don’t speak Korean as to those who do, so this chapter will introduce the most significant speech styles, particles, and body language, so that Korean speakers and non-Korean speakers alike will have a good understanding of the language features mentioned throughout this book.

Into the ‘Language Wardrobe’ The process of selecting speech styles can be thought of as similar to the process that we go through when selecting an outfit for a particular occasion. Depending on where we are going, we choose an outfit in an appropriate style. We wear pyjamas to bed, not to go to work, and we wear a suit to work, but not to go to bed. Our destination is important. Other aspects of the environment are also taken into consideration. We might dress more formally when meeting someone for the first time, such as on a first date, and then dress more informally as the relationship develops. We might even be influenced by further factors, like meeting a friend who always tries to dress well, and so we do too. In Korean communication, speech and gesture styles need to be selected for the occasion, and similar factors to those considered when one chooses an outfit are considered when choosing how to communicate. The skill of tailoring one’s ‘style’ of communication specifically for each social situation – each ‘performance’ – can be difficult (even for Koreans!). One must consider, ‘Where am I?’, ‘Who am I speaking to?’, ‘Is this a first meeting?’, ‘How do I know you?’, ‘How do you like to communicate?’, ‘Do we have shared acquaintances, and how important are these relationships to me?’, and ‘Who else is here?’ Even in monologues (self-talk) in films, the speech style is often changed depending upon who may overhear. Tailoring one’s style is moreover a skill employed not only from situation to situation, but within situations, tailoring one’s style constantly, as the (in)formality fluctuates.6

Language Stylistics 19

Ending Stylistics: Age, Status, Environment, and Intimacy Korean has different levels of speech styles that show different levels of politeness. These speech styles can be broadly divided into: level 1) casual; level 2) polite; and level 3) honorific. (See Linguist’s Corner for more a detailed breakdown). Each speech style has its own set sentence ending, and for the honorific speech style, there are different words for terms like ‘age’, ‘eat’, ‘sleep’, and so on, that will only be used in the honorific register. Generally speaking, honorific speech is characterised by the -bnida -ㅂ니다 ending, polite speech is indicated by the -yo -요 ending, and casual speech is indicated by a lack of -bnida or -yo. Take, for example, one of the Korean words for ‘thank you’, which may be familiar to readers: gamsahada 감사하다. The stem of the word, gamsa 감사, remains the same, and the ending changes according to the speech style: Honorific: gamsahabnida 감사합니다 Polite: gamsahaeyo 감사해요 Casual: gamsahae 감사해 Korean people have to think about speech styles every time they interact with someone. Suppose a child hears a knock on the door and is about to ask who it is in Korean. The child pauses and starts to wonder whether the person outside the door is an adult or a friend. The child knows she say will say nugu 누구 (who), but can’t decide whether it is appropriate to use casual speech nuguya? 누구야 (‘Who is it?’ for friends) or polite speech nuguseyo? 누구세요 (‘Who is it?’ polite form for adults) without knowing the person behind the door. This linguistic conundrum is unnecessary in English, but in Korean, even when speaking a very simple sentence such as the previous example, one must know their relationship with the person to whom they are speaking. In accordance, they adopt certain language stylistics which fit with a) societal expectations, and b) their own personal languaging style. The system of speech styles is far more complex than the two levels demonstrated, and learners of Korean often find this complex honorific system challenging to understand. As in any sort of dialogue, one must determine one’s relation to the other party before they can speak. Broadly speaking, the three speech styles are used as shown in Table 2.1. As can be seen in the table, it is not only the relationship between the speaker and listener that affects the choice of speech styles, but it is also the context in which the interaction takes place. In a public space, where one may be subject to the judgement of others, it is typical to use the polite or honorific registers, but in a private space, Korean speakers may employ a more intimate speech style to create a sense of closeness between speaker and listener. For example, in a formal meeting, employees will always use the honorific (-bnida) form to their bosses, but at a company dinner, employees may be more relaxed around their bosses, and thus they may use the polite (-yo) form instead of honorific style. The age factor in interactions can also be overridden by intimacy. The honorific style can create a feeling of distance between the speaker and listener, as can the

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Table 2.1 Relationships and their appropriate speech styles Relationship

Public or private space?

Speech style

Someone older than you

Public Private Public Private

Polite or honorific Polite Honorific Polite

Public Private Public Private

Polite Casual Polite Casual

Someone senior in terms of socioeconomic status (i.e., your boss) Someone of the same age Someone younger than you

polite style, although perhaps to a lesser extent. The casual style creates the greatest sense of closeness and intimacy between speakers. Hence, family members will almost always use the casual style to each other when in private spaces, even though there may be a big age gap between, say, the grandparents and grandchild. Were someone outside of the family to be part of the interaction, then they would likely switch to the polite style.

Linguistic Routines Koreans learn to balance politeness and intimacy throughout their lives, and are able to fine-tune their styles for different occasions. In doing so, they establish some fundamental ‘routines’ for how to use speech styles. While interpersonal relations develop and change, these routines remain a starting point for successful interaction. Returning to the analogy about the language wardrobe – is there a particular outfit in your wardrobe that gets great reviews when you wear it on a date, to work, or at weddings? Something you always know that you can rely upon to make the right impression in a particular environment? The routines that Koreans establish for how they approach interactions are similar. These tried and tested approaches are the ‘perfect outfit’ for certain occasions. Table 2.2 provides a bird’s-eye view of some of the conventional speech-style routines that one comes across often in Korea. Despite linguistic routines, the choice of speech style may shift as the interpersonal relationship changes. For instance, when two people first meet, they will typically use the polite form with each other, even if they are the same age. Yet, once they become closer to each other, they will start dropping -yo to consolidate a more intimate, close relationship. Yet, in doing so, one needs to be very careful. If the negotiation is not done properly, with both parties opting to drop the -yo, one side may feel offended (see Chapter 4 for more on this). In fact, this is an oftreported conflict, even resulting in actual crimes. Using -yo shows respect but distance, and dropping -yo can show intimacy but could also sound disrespectful. Therefore, making the right decision between formal and informal speech is not easy. However, once decided upon, speech levels

Language Stylistics 21 Table 2.2 Situations and their speech styles

Situation: comfortable and informal gathering with friends and juniors Speech style: casual Reason: the situation is very relaxed for all, so you would typically use the casual style (banmal). Situation: formal gathering with friends and juniors Speech style: polite Reason: if there are observers around or the situation is more formal, then it is most appropriate to use the polite (-yo) form. Situation: comfortable and informal event after work event with your boss Speech style: polite Reason: in a less formal situation, for example a company dinner, employees feel a little more relaxed around their bosses, and thus they may use the polite (-yo) form. Situation: highly formal work event with your boss Speech style: honorific Reason: in a highly formal environment, e.g., an important meeting, employees will always use the honorific (-bnida) form. This shows the appropriate respect in a high-profile context. Situation: comfortable and informal gathering with family in private Speech Style: casual Reason: within a relaxed setting, using the casual style (banmal) is standard, even if a family member is older than you. Situation: gathering with family in a public space Speech style: polite Reason: if someone outside of the family, e.g., a neighbour, is part of the conversation too, then it is common to use the polite (-yo) form towards family members to seem polite in front of others.

between people can also be renegotiated as relationships change. In Korean, formality and informality are always being negotiated at every point in interactions and relationships.

Particle Stylistics Particles are another vital part of Korean linguistic stylistics, which present attitudinal meanings. Particles like -eun/-neun -은/-는 and -i/-ga -이/-가, which are used to demarcate the topic or subject of a sentence respectively, and the endings used at the end of the utterance, such as -ya -야, -yo -요, -bnida -ㅂ니다, all work together to form another level of pragmatic stylistics.

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The meanings that are added through these particles are far from truth-conditional meanings for the proposition, but rather form a subtext, which demonstrates the speaker and hearer’s interpersonal dynamics. One typically uses the particle -i/-ga when speaking factually, rather than giving one’s own opinion. For example, in a discussion about science, -i/-ga would be used to explain the results of an experiment. While, if one is speaking about personal matters, often -eun/-neun is used, because its use reflects the speaker’s involvement in the event. Na-neun 나 는 literally means ‘in my view’ or ‘my thoughts’. Hence, it becomes much more relevant in subjective and emotive descriptions. On the other hand, -i/-ga lessesn the speakers’ involvement, hence it is more often used in describing scientific fact.7 This is why -eun/-neun will often be found in a Korean novel, compared to nonfiction works where -i/-ga is common. When the subject of a sentence is a much older person or a person with a higher social status, ggeseo -께서 is often used rather than -i/-ga. When ggeseo -께서 is used, the honorific verbal particle si -시- should be added to the main verb of the sentence. Though the use of ggeseo is not obligatory in Korean grammar, the use of si -시- is obligatory when the subject is of considerably higher status. Since the subject is dropped frequently in Korean, when si -시- is attached, one can guess that the unmentioned subject is a highly respected person. These particles all add greater meaning to Korean that cannot be easily demonstrated in English.

Interjections Interjections are another relatively small aspect of communication that carry a lot of contextual meaning in Korean. The purpose of using interjections is generally to signal that one is still speaking, to prevent interruption, or to make time for planning further speech. In Korean, again, attitudinal meanings are also expressed through interjections, because the type and frequency of interjections are also influenced by interpersonal dynamics. This is well observed when one looks at the way people talk on the phone. Broadly speaking, interjections eo 어 or eung 응 can be used when speaking to equals or juniors, while the interjections ne 네 or ye 예 can be used to superiors. But these stylistics are far more than honorifics and politeness, as they are used in a multidimensional negotiation of power, intimacy, and distance. For example, an employee using the interjection ne to their boss at the office shows subordinacy to the power of the boss, and creates distance between employer and employee; but if the employee switches to eo while out drinking with his employer, in a friendly context, this implies the desire for or development of intimacy between employee and employer. It is more than simply a matter of politeness or rudeness. Thus, we see another form of language stylistics and how they can create intimacy, and not just convey respect.

Gangnam Style-istics: English for the Vain The term ‘Gangnam style’ became known worldwide following Korean singer Psy’s hit single ‘Gangnam Style’ in 2013, but for many, precisely what Gangnam

Language Stylistics 23 style is remains a mystery.8 Gangnam, which means ‘south of the Han River’, is a district in the city of Seoul. Thanks to government investment, the district has undergone extensive development since the 1960s, and is now one of the most expensive districts in which to live in South Korea. It is one of the busiest entertainment districts, and also well known for luxury goods and lifestyles. statistica. com (2022) reported that, as of November 2021, Gangnam was the most expensive area in Seoul, ‘with an average apartment sales price of around 2.3 billion South Korean won’; at the current exchange rate, this is equivalent to around 1.8 million pounds.9 The area is known for having inhabitants that are wealthy and well educated, and it is this specifically that motivated Psy’s song. Gangnam style is far more than simply luxury products, homes, and lifestyles, though. It is exhibited in Korean language stylistics, and, particularly, the use of English by Gangnam’s wealthy and well-educated inhabitants. English words signify higher social status, because, in Korea, speaking English is associated with being well educated and having studied abroad, and is considered social capital. It is even the cause of many parents opting for controversial mouth surgery for their children to improve their pronunciation of English, and placing their children into the highly stressful environment of English-speaking elementary schools.10 English first entered Korea around 130 years ago, not long by most standards, and yet English quickly established a strong presence in Korea. Only a few decades after Korea opened up to the West, Yi Jonggeuk wrote the following in the first loanword dictionary in Korea: I have heard comments from various people moaning that, ‘I can’t make out what the recent newspapers say because they use too much English’. Indeed, foreign language has been trespassing on our modern society (particularly for the last ten years), so much so for this period to be termed the ‘Era of Foreign Language Intrusion’. Every single newspaper and magazine now mix foreign language into their Korean. So-called modern writers and artists are competitively adopting foreign languages, and sometimes almost thoughtlessly parade them. . . . Now, journalists look like they are incapable of writing a single sentence without using foreign words. Consequently, newly coined foreign words are being incessantly produced each day; the increasing number of foreign words is overwhelming.11 This was just the beginning of Korea’s development into a translingual era. It is now pretty much impossible for Koreans to go about their daily business without using English words. In fact, there are even challenges in Korean variety shows in which participants have to avoid speaking English words. Such games always prove difficult, which is proof of how ubiquitous English has become in Korean. It is not only the Korean language that is being transmitted in K-fans’ 7.8 billion tweets. English is also being transmitted to Korea online, to the extent that English and Korean now co-exist in Korea in an irreversible manner. Thus, even though English was once a privileged asset in Korea, it is

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now becoming a common asset. English used to be like an expensive piece of jewellery: an accessory to indicate one’s wealth. As more and more English words take root in the Korean language, more and more people have access to the English language, and thus it is less of an asset for the privileged few. This is not to say that everyone speaks fluent English in Korea. It still requires a lot of money to pay for English lessons, so it is still a skill for the privileged. What I am referring to here is that everyone in Korea has some knowledge of English loanwords and buzzwords, as they are so ubiquitous now. For this reason, English is a somewhat vain language in Korea. Being fluent in English is still seen as exclusive, so Korean people sometimes have the opinion that using English too much is impolite. Its use can make the speaker appear to be showing off or looking down on the listener.12 Parasite (2019) is an excellent example of how English is wielded as a social asset in Korean. In fact, the film is famous for its characters’ jarringly unnecessary use of English words, phrases, and even names. The English language is almost ‘worn’ by the Paks, just like their designer clothes, bags, expensive Pomeranian dog, luxury car, and home, and through these satirical Korean upper-class stereotypes, a purposeful contrast is made to the destitute Kim family. The Paks even choose to call Ki-jung and Ki-woo by English names – Jessica and Kevin – when they come to work as art therapy and English tutors respectively for the Paks’ children, as if granting them status in doing so (Figure 2.1). The Kims are only too aware of the power of English, and the artefacts associated with this, as seen in the infamous moment where Ki-jung and Ki-woo go over these elements before entering the Pak household, chanting ‘Jessica, only child, Illinois, Chicago’ (Figure 2.2). The following examples are only some of the many occasions in which Mr and Mrs Pak use English words and phrases. These excerpts are presented in chronological order, so that you may locate them with ease when viewing Parasite.

Figure 2.1 Mrs Pak introduces Ki-jung as Jessica, in Parasite (2019).

Language Stylistics 25

Figure 2.2 ‘Jessica, only child, Illinois, Chicago’ scene, in Parasite (2019).

‘Is It Okay With You?’ When interviewing Ki-woo (Kevin) for the role of her daughter’s (Da-hye) tutor, Mrs Pak explains to him that she would like to sit in on his first lesson, to make sure that she is happy with the standard of his tuition. After making this statement in Korean, Mrs Pak says ‘Is it okay with you?’ in English. ‘This Is Dong-ik’ A short time later, Ki-jung comes for her interview with Mrs Pak for the role of the son’s art therapist. After the interview, Mr Pak arrives home, and Mrs Pak introduces him to Ki-jung. However, when she does, despite all those present being Korean, she says ‘This is Dong-ik’ in English. Calling Mr Pak by his name is highly irregular in Korean, and even more so due to Ki-jung being younger, and his employee. Since there is no context for Mrs Pak trying to disrespect her husband, or create discomfort, it is clear that her speaking so unnaturally is only to show off her status through her English-speaking ability. ‘I Am Deadly Serious’ Following the discovery of the woman’s underwear in Mr Yoon’s car, and his swift removal from his position in the Pak household, Ki-jung goes about trying to get another of the Kim family employed in the household. After suggesting a ‘friend of her father’, who is actually her own father (Mr Kim), Mrs Pak responds positively. Ki-jung, taken aback at how easy it was to gain her agreement, asks if Mrs Pak is sure. This part of the conversation takes place in Korean. Then, Mrs Pak replies with ‘I am deadly serious’, entirely in English. Mrs Pak’s use of the phrase is not only unusual because it is an entire phrase spoken in a language that is not the first language of anyone present, but also because it is an idiomatic phrase, and subsequently even more difficult to understand.

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Language Stylistics

‘Belt of Trust’ Mrs Pak then goes on to explain her swift decision to Ki-jung, explaining how she prefers to employ people through recommendation, referring to this as ‘Mideumae Belteu’ 믿음의 벨트, meaning ‘A belt of trust’. This is an analogy, which plays on the idea that connections between people – what Koreans often call jeong 정 (links) – can be trusted and relied upon. It is somewhat of a similar analogy to the ‘circle of trust’, famously coined in the Hollywood blockbuster Meet the Parents.13 ‘Do You Know What I Mean?’ Towards the film’s end, Mrs Pak decides to throw an impromptu birthday party for their son Da-song. She phones friends and employees to invite them, whilst getting ready in the morning. At one point, she calls Ki-jung to invite her. In reference to her being paid for attending, Mrs Pak switches from Korean to English, asking, ‘Do you know what I mean?’ Mixing Korean and English is not always well received in South Korea. In Korean variety shows, it is common to see subtitles that are either a) in English, b) in English but written in hangeul, or c) that mix hangeul with the Latin alphabet. In Korean variety shows, subtitles are used all the time as a form of creative editing. Not all sentences spoken are rendered as subtitles, but most are. They are added in an imaginative and playful way to emphasise particularly humorous or strange things that are said. In recent times, editors have taken to playing around with language and orthography to keep their subtitles engaging. Below, we see a scene from Hospital Playlist Goes Camping 2, a show in which the cast of K-drama Hospital Playlist go camping together one night.14 In Figure 2.3,

Figure 2.3 ‘My turn’ written in hangeul.

Language Stylistics 27

Figure 2.4 A mix of English and Korean written in the Latin alphabet.

the shot is captioned ‘마이 턴’ mai teon, meaning ‘my turn’. In a playful way, the editors render English using a Korean spelling. In another scene from Hospital Playlist Goes Camping 2, we see the caption ‘So Gusu~!’ In this instance, the editors mix English with Korean (Figure 2.4). They combine so and gusuhada 구수하다 to mean ‘so interesting’. By mixing English and Korean, and representing Korean in the Latin alphabet, an eccentric and humorous tone is given to the utterance. Finally, it is also becoming common to see a mix of hangeul and the Latin alphabet. In Figure 2.5, we see the letter ‘A’ used with ㅏ, the Korean ‘a’ sound. This is a common rendering of the exclamation ‘Ah!’ in Korean variety shows these days. The mix of two orthographies serves to emphasise the ‘Ah’ sound in a way that can make the ‘Ah’ sound more awkward or more surprised, depending on context. The ‘A’ also serves to replace the that ㅇ (silent eung) might precede a vowel in a hangeul consonant block. Authorities in Korea have not received the artistic liberties taken by variety show editors in a positive way. Around the time of Hangeul Day in 2021, there was a lot of negative press about variety shows mixing hangeul with the Latin alphabet. Variety shows were accused of destroying hangeul and all that it represents. Some even threatened to take the shows off air if they continued to ‘destroy’ hangeul in such a way. The reality is, however, that Korea has already become a translingual country. The boundaries between English and Korean will only continue to blur, as exchange between Korea and international communities continues.

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Figure 2.5 A mix of orthographies.

Summary This chapter has introduced some of the linguistic features that Korean people employ to navigate respect and intimacy in a hierarchical society. I call the use of these features linguistic stylistics. Much as we dress in the West according to whom we are meeting and where, Korean people change their language according to whom they are talking to and where they are. As we have seen, this can involve speech styles, particles, interjections, and the addition of English into one’s speech. Language stylistics help those speaking Korean to create sentiments of respect, politeness, closeness, intimacy, and humour. They allow the user to present themselves in a variety of ways, as demonstrated by Parasite. Later in this book, we will see how address terms, pronouns, and nonverbal communication also contribute to language stylistics.

Linguist’s Corner Speech Styles in Korean: banmal (반말) vs jeondaemal (존댓말) 존댓말 When it comes to speaking appropriately in Korean, speech styles are extremely important. Choosing the correct speech style is not straightforward. Though there is some dispute, it is generally agreed that there are six speech styles in Korean.15 Among these, the semiformal (3) and familiar (4) styles are rarely used in contemporary Korean but can often be heard in historical dramas.

Language Stylistics 29 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Formal style: possible endings with ㅂ니다/-까 (for question) e.g., 사랑합니다. 감사합니다. 미안합니다. Polite style: generally ending in – 요 e.g., 사랑해요, 감사해요, 미안해요 Semiformal style/-하오: possible endings with – 오 (hardly used these days) Familiar style – 하게: possible endings with – 네/는가 (hardly used these days) Half-talk or intimate style/반말: possible endings with – 어/아 e.g., 사랑해, 감사해, 미안해 Plain style: possible endings with – ㄴ다, 느냐 e.g., 사랑한다, 감사한다, 미안하다

Formal and polite speech styles are considered honorific and are prescriptively used with superiors, strangers, and non-intimates. The semi-formal and familiar styles are used by older adults towards younger adults and have the nuance of authority and formality. Intimate and plain speech styles are seen as non-honorific styles and are to be used with intimates or subordinates in terms of age or rank.16 Rather than using just one speech style constantly, Korean speakers tend to use either the honorific formal and polite speech styles or the non-honorific intimate and plain styles together. Changing between the styles conveys different nuances. The formal style is used more when addressing someone of high rank in a formal setting, whereas the polite form is used more frequently when talking to a non-intimate of similar age and rank, or an elder speaker to someone younger, and/or of higher rank to a lower rank. The six-style system is complex, but the actual usage of speech styles in modern contemporary Korean society is somewhat more simple. Lee and Ramsey explain that ‘Today . . . when Koreans talk about speech styles, the most common . . . contrast is between banmal 반말, “informal, intimate speech” and jondaemal 존 댓말, which, roughly translated means “polite speech”’. In this simplification of the six systems into two, banmal refers to plain style and half-talk style, and jondaemal refers to polite style and formal style, leaving out familiar style and semi formal style, which are rarely used in contemporary spoken Korean. This is why I speak of the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy throughout this book.

Notes 1 Kiaer and Kim, Understanding Korean Film. 2 Kiaer, Jieun. The Routledge Course in Korean Translation. Abingdon: Routledge, 2017. 3 Kiaer, Jieun. Pragmatic Particles: Findings from Asian Languages. London: Bloomsbury Studies in Theoretical Linguistics, 2020. 4 Kiaer, Jieun, Jennifer Guest, and Xiaofan Amy Li. Translation and Literature in East Asia: Between Visibility and Invisibility. Abingdon: Routledge, 2019. 5 Kiaer and Kim, Understanding Korean Film. 6 Multi-modal Modulation Hypothesis in Kiaer, Jieun. Translingual Words: An East Asian Lexical Encounter with English. Abingdon: Routledge, 2018: 93. 7 Kiaer, Pragmatic Particles. 8 “Psyofficial. PSY – Gangnam Style (강남스타일) M/V.” YouTube, 2012. www.youtube. com/watch?v=9bZkp7q19f0.

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9 Statista Research Department. “South Korea: Most Expensive Areas to Live in Seoul 2021.”Statista, July 19, 2022. www.statista.com/statistics/1023632/south-korea-mostexpensive-areas-to-live-seoul/. 10 Morgan-Brown, Jessica M., Jieun Kiaer, and Naya Choi. Young Childrens Foreign Language Anxiety: The Case of South Korea. Bristol: Multilingual Matters, 2021. 11 Yi, Jonggeuk. Motŏn chosŏn oe-rae-ŏ sachŏn [Modern Korea Loanwords Dictionary]. Seoul: Hansŏng tosŏ chusik hoesa, 1937: 1. 12 Kiaer, Jieun. Pragmatic Syntax. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. 13 Roach, Jay. Meet the Parents. TriBeCa Productions, 2000. 14 Shin, Won-ho. Hospital Playlist Goes Camping, 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watc h?v=zr7WB3lS3ao&list=PLvRi4hnUzW2hzt0XwnbpghFv3ZEaNF8lQ. 15 Brown, Lucien, and Jaehoon Yeon. Korean: A Comprehensive Grammar. Abingdon: Routledge, 2011: 17. 16 Ibid.

3

Address Matters

Think of Me as a Friend After I married my husband, Ian, and moved to the UK full time, I lived with my father-in-law, Stanley, for six months. He was a lovely man, but we had our fair share of difficulties in the early years. He wanted us to be friends, but being friends with my father-in-law was something I couldn’t fathom. In Korean culture, in-laws are divine. You must treat your father-in-law with the utmost respect and serve him by cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the household. To be too casual or friendly with one’s father-in-law is impolite. I liked Stanley, but I simply couldn’t be his friend. One particularly awkward way in which this clash of expectations manifested was through language. I didn’t know how to address him. Because of my cultural upbringing, I couldn’t bring myself to address a man 45 years my senior, my father-in-law no less, by his first name. In English, it was strange to call him ‘father-in-law’. For a long time, I avoided addressing him altogether. When I had no choice – for example, when his friends came to visit and asked after him – I referred to him as Ian’s dad. Even indirectly, I couldn’t call him Stanley. In Korea, terms of address are an important indicator of respect. Even among friends, if there is an age gap of more than a year, the proper language should be used. A friend in Korean can only be someone of the same age, sometimes they must even be born in the same month. Order is at the heart of Korean interpersonal relations – even with twins, Koreans pay attention to who is older and who is younger.1 As such, I found it very difficult to interact with older people in England, such as Stanley’s friends. I naturally bowed to show my respect. Every instinct I had resisted the idea of casually waving hello or using first names. It took a long time for Stanley and me to understand each other. I grew to realise that being friends didn’t have to mean I was being rude, and Stanley came to understand that my reluctance and avoidance did not mean that I didn’t like him. Nevertheless, if I ever saw other Korean people waving to Stanley or trying to treat him as a friend, I would feel defensive. My old cultural instincts said, ‘How dare you?’

DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-4

32 Address Matters

Address Ambiguity The terms by which one calls another in Asian communities is highly important.2 Compared with Western European languages in particular, Asian languages generally have a huge repertoire of address terms that require much more consideration. Of course, in a language like French or German, there is some consideration required to decide whether to refer to someone as tu or vous, or Sie and du, but once it is set, the tension is lost. In comparison, there are a whole host of other pronouns and address terms that those who speak Asian languages may pick from. Mandarin Chinese, for example, has a great number of terms to refer to different members of the family, taking into account which side of the family that they are on, and whether they were first-born, second-born, third-born, and so on in their sibling group. Thai also has great variation, with address terms that are based on profession, too.3 It is not clear whether this trend in Asian languages stems from culture, religion, or society, but it is likely a mixture of all three. To the best of my knowledge, Korea presents the most extreme case, where what you call someone can have so many underlying connotations. Korean address terms not only take age and vocation into consideration, but also wealth, education, and intimacy. It is the only language that I know of where address terms are constantly being negotiated and renegotiated in a tug-of-war-like manner. In Korean, it is rare to call someone by their name directly. It is also rare to be able to refer to a person directly, using the second-person pronoun, you. As such, translation between Korean and English is very difficult. The way you refer to someone in Korean says just as much about the relationship between two speakers as the speech styles and particles that we looked at in Chapter 2. Using the wrong address term could imply that you think a person is something that they are not, and this can result in offence. Address terms, however, can also be used to flatter, and thus can create a favourable relationship dynamic between two speakers if used successfully. Although Korean grammar textbooks often prescriptively provide lists of address terms for different kinds of relationships, finding the proper address term is a more complex and contextual issue than such simple lists imply. The rules for when a certain address term should be used are not fixed, and different people may feel differently about the appropriate address term for a given situation. Choosing address terms usually requires negotiation for Koreans. When meeting somebody for the first time, one might begin without using a particular address term. After this initial stage, one might ask about the other party’s age or background, in order to feel out the relational dynamics. Then, after these negotiations have settled, and the correct address term and hierarchy has been worked out, proper conversation can begin. This negotiation also affects the use of pronouns, or lack thereof. Such negotiation is not limited to face-to-face communication; it also occurs in virtual communication and texting.

Nameless Faces People in Korea often don’t know the full names of the people to whom they are speaking, as it is just not necessary. They think of people as so and so’s mum or

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33

. For example, in Shin Kyung-sook’s critically acclaimed Please Look After Mom (2009), a 69-year-old mother, Sonyo, goes missing and her family begin to search for her. Her children decide to put up missing-person posters for her, but then they are stopped in their tracks when they realise that they need to put her name on the poster. They know her as eomma 엄마 (mum) and rarely hear other people say her name. It is actually awkward for them to have to think of and use their mother’s name. Not knowing a woman’s name is particularly common in Korea. Women are often known as the mother, wife, or daughter of someone. They may even be known according to where they come from, for example, the wife from Seoul. This situation of knowing people but not their names rarely comes across in translations of K-content. Many K-films, K-dramas, and K-novels have been translated using people’s names in the place of address terms. This is likely motivated by the desire for the translation to seem natural to an English ear. In doing so, however, the enriched and nuanced meanings indicated by address terms are completely lost. This convention is now changing. More and more elements of Korean are beginning to be retained in literature translations. One prominent example is the English translation of Han Kang’s much celebrated novel The Vegetarian (2007), translated into English by Deborah Smith in 2015. Smith’s translation retained Korean address terms through a more literal translation into English, rather than replacing them with proper or given names. For example, cheohyeong 처형 is translated as ‘sister-in-law’, and cheonam 처남 is translated as ‘brother-in-law’, without any use of their names. Addressing someone as ‘sister-in-law’ rather than their name may feel unnatural in English but, in this case, the use of characters’ names would have meant the loss of vital pragmatic meanings – primarily the value and role that the characters hold within the family. Reverence and filial piety are significant in Korean households and so preserving address terms in the translation can be seen as a structural manifestation of this system within the narrative. The choice to maintain address terms makes the rigidity of the hierarchical system in the social and cultural landscape and how centrally it functions within a familial setting tangible for readers (e.g., the children having to call the protagonist’s father-in-law Father, rather than Dad). This then extends to understanding of characters’ attitudes, emotions, and personalities, such as the sisterin-law’s dedication and the brother-in-law’s disinterest. As K-content’s popularity has grown exponentially since 2015, so have people’s understanding of Korean address terms. Oppa, unni, nuna, and more are all in the Oxford English Dictionary, so some translations are retaining Korean address terms in their transliterated forms.

Address Terms: The Fossils of the Korean Language I cannot stress the importance and impact of address terms in Korean enough. Even in Korean diaspora communities, where the younger generations may not speak Korean well or at all, address terms are some of the few words that they always know. Address terms build solidarity by demonstrating that you understand the

34 Address Matters other person and their place in relation to yours. Address terms flatter, distance, and unify Korean speakers, even in diaspora communities. Even if a family is heavily involved in the new language and culture of the country that they have moved to, Korean address terms are an unchanging constant that will always be used within Korean diaspora communities. In this way, address terms are the fossils of the Korean language in the sense that they preserve Korean culture wherever Korean people are.

Nunchi: Visual Scanning and Social Tuning In order to work out appropriate address terms, Korean people use nunchi 눈 치. There is no easy translation of the word nunchi. It is a term better explained rather than translated. Nunchi can be explained via two terms that I coin: visual scanning and social tuning. When a Korean person enters into an interaction, they commence visual scanning. They consider how old someone appears, what clothes they are wearing, their gender, who they are with (children, spouse, etc), and any other clues that could help them to pick an appropriate address term and speech style. The ability to carry out visual scanning successfully requires social tuning. Social tuning is the process by which you assess what you see and make associations with status indicators that are not just limited to age and socioeconomic status. Social tuning is a skill that is acquired over one’s lifetime. It is culturally informed and intuitive, and crucial for belonging to Korean society. Using visual scanning and social tuning, Koreans begin to form an idea of what kind of person they are talking to, although this will, of course, be based on guesswork. The way in which one chooses to interact afterward is a gamble that causes no problem most of the time, but can have consequences if inappropriate. A good example of using nunchi is the service industries.4 Environment, gender, and appearance are all considered by service workers when considering how to address a customer. A woman in an expensive designer store would usually be referred to as samonim 사모님 (Ma’am, referring to a wealthy married woman), as long as they look like they belong there. Meanwhile, a woman in a market may be referred to as ajumma 아줌마 (Mrs, referring to a middle-aged married woman) instead. A woman in a children’s clothing department may be referred to as eomeoni 어머니 (mother). In other cases, the customer is generally addressed as sonnim 손님 or gogaeknim 고객님, where the -nim suffix implies an honorific tone. Gogaeknim is becoming more popular than sonnim, as it sounds more respectful. These choices about address terms are all made according to visual cues and societal norms. Address terms demonstrate how the speaker perceives the hearer. If the expression is inappropriate for the social dynamic, then it implies that the speaker does not think highly of the hearer, and may even be aiming to purposely agitate them. However, if a non-neutral address term is used appropriately, then it may create a very positive interpersonal dynamic between customer and clerk. Choosing a non-neutral address term may be high risk, but it can also have a high pay off.

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One Big Happy Family? Using Kinship Terms With Non-Kin Koreans (whether accurately or not) see Korea as a relatively homogeneous country, and the idea that everybody in Korean society symbolically belongs to one family was prevalent until quite recently. This has dramatically affected the system of address terms. To show intimacy, Koreans often use kinship terms for people with whom they have no familial relationship. This could be calling an older waitress in a restaurant imo 이모 (auntie), calling a friend’s mother eomeoni 어머니(mother), or calling an old man on the street harabeoji 할아버지 (grandfather). Despite often being translated as ‘brother’, it is standard for women to call their older boyfriend or husband oppa 오빠, and sometimes women call them oppa even if the boyfriend/husband is not older. When parents or older siblings call the names of their children or younger siblings, they almost always add the vocative particles -a/-ya/-i -아/-야/-이 after the name, depending on the context and whether the name ends with a consonant or a vowel. This can also be the case for close friends when one is older and one is younger. It is important to note, however, that even within Korea there are differing views on this practice. You might think it is a heart-warming experience to be called imo, oppa, or harabeoji. However, some may find this approach to be too familiar, and subsequently feel uncomfortable. Figure 3.1 below presents a general overview of the kinship terms that one might use to refer to others. As we will move on to see, there are a whole other plethora of address terms that could also be used. You might notice that there is a choice to call a man who is older than you abeoji or oppa/hyeong, and an older woman eomeoni or nuna/eonni. The difference between the two terms lies, broadly speaking, in the generational gap (or lack thereof) between you and the addressee. If the addressee is of the same generation as you and older than you, then hyeong, oppa, nuna, or eonni are most appropriate. If the addressee is approximately one generation older than you, then abeoji or eomeoni is most appropriate. Likewise, if the addressee is two generations older, then you would refer to them as halmeoni or halabeoji. This does have potential to offend, however. Halmeoni and halabeoji used to refer to people of around 65 years or older, but in an ageing population, the age of 65 is still quite young. Thus, you can imply someone looks very old by calling them halmeoni and halabeoji. It is also important to note that the use of eomeonim () and abeonim () can also be used to refer to those who are parents, regardless of whether the user is older or younger than the addressee. If a woman is walking around the children’s-clothing section of a department store, then she will likely be referred to as eomeonim by the workers there. This has potential to cause great offence, if the woman is not a mother, as it imposes societal expectations. In Parasite (2019), the three characters of Jessica, Kevin, and the Paks’ original housekeeper call Mrs Pak eomeoni because she is a mother, despite the fact that Jessica and Kevin are younger than her and the housekeeper is older.

36 Address Matters

Figure 3.1 Korea’s complex system of address terms for family and friends.

Address Terms in Parasite In Parasite (2019), a plethora of kinship terms are used that are not translated in the subtitles. Parasite tells the story of the destitute Kim family, who lie and cheat

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their way into the employment of the prestigious Pak family. In the film, verbal and nonverbal expressions are crucial to understanding the relational dynamics between characters and demonstrate several reasons for their use, including how to do so humorously. Table 3.1 documents some of the kinship terms used by the characters.

Address Terms: An Easy Remedy The use of kinship terms (excluding 아/야/이) has the potential to create two sentiments: intimacy and subordinacy. In times of conflict, using an address term to imply solidarity or subordinacy can act as a quick remedy to the problem. It reminds the senior in the situation that they should look after the younger, and may remind the younger in the situation that they should respect their elder. In Parasite (2019), when conflict appears between Mrs Kim and exhousekeeper Mun-kwang, Mrs Kim appeals to Mun-kwang using the term eonni, Table 3.1 Some of the address terms used in Parasite (2019). Address terms

Example

Meaning

Translation

eomeonim어머님

When Jessica calls Mrs Pak, she calls her eomonim, even though she isn’t her mother. Mrs Pak is referred to as samonim.

Literally means ‘respectful mother’ but is subtitled as madame. If you are well dressed and look like a wealthy married woman, you might be referred to as samonim (teacher’s wife). This was never translated. This can be used between close friends or siblings.

Madame

This term is used between women to show the hierarchy and intimacy.

sis

samonim 사모님

-a/-ya -아/-야

eonni 언니

Min-hyeok and Ki-Woo refer to each other as Min-hyeok-a and Ki-woo-ya. Munkwang calls Mrs Kim eonni when begging for a favour. Mrs Pak also refers to Munkwang, former housewife, using this term to create friendliness between them, on one occasion.

Madame (often, this term is omitted in the subtitles).

Hey

38 Address Matters Table 3.2 Casual and formal speech styles between characters in Parasite (2019). Types of relations

Speech styles used

Mr Kim vs Mr Pak

Mr Pak is younger than Mr Kim, but Mr Pak is the boss. Hence, Mr Kim uses polite and formal styles to Mr Pak. Mr Pak tends to use the polite style, yet his verbal and nonverbal expressions show that he is showing minimal respect for his employee (chauffeur). Ki-jung is younger than Mrs Pak, yet she is Mrs Pak’s son’s tutor. Hence, Mrs Pak uses polite and formal styles to Ki-jung, and vice versa. At one point, Mrs Pak uses the casual style to Ki-jung in order to show her trust and intimacy towards her. Mun-kwang uses a polite speech style to Mrs Kim initially, but when she realises their plot, she switches into casual style. The styles that the two women use switch as the interpersonal dynamics swiftly change throughout the film. Mr Kim and Mun-kwang’s relationship is distant, so both use formal, polite styles. However, after Mun-kwang’s death, Mr Kim shows the utmost respect to the dead Mun-kwang.

Mrs Pak vs Ki-Jung

Mun-kwang vs Mrs Kim

Mr Kim vs Mun-kwang

Figure 3.2 Mrs Kim begs Mun-kwang, using ‘eonni’ to do so, in Parasite (2019).

which means ‘older sister’ (Figure 3.2). The term suggests that Mun-kwang should take care of her ‘younger sister’ as the older of the two, but this feels manufactured due to the context of the scene. The English translation in the subtitle used the word sis, which doesn’t convey the same feeling of respect (younger to older) that it does in Korean. Order is very important in Korea, as it helps avoid

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conflict when everyone knows their place. By calling each other eonni, Mrs Kim is actually asking Mun-kwang to take pity on her. This uniquely Korean method of resolving conflict cannot be portrayed by the word ‘sis’. On one occasion, Mrs Pak also calls her housekeeper Mun-kwang eonni spontaneously, as a token of intimacy. In this case, rather than as a form of persuasion in a desperate situation, the term is used to persuade Mun-kwang to do as Mrs Pak wishes and to express her appreciation. Mrs Pak desperately wants to know what is happening in her son’s art lesson with Jessica, but Jessica has said that Mrs Pak should not interrupt. Mrs Pak realises that Mun-kwang could take some drinks to the lesson and survey the situation as she does so. Mrs Pak then calls Mun-kwang eonni as she makes the request.

Suffixes: a/ya, nim, ssi When using another’s name or title, suffixes can be added to infer additional meaning. In intimate relationships with those of similar age or younger, a first name may occasionally appear on its own, but more commonly is suffixed by the vocative form -a/ya. In more distant relationships, those who are older may refer to the younger by their . This is a simple polite form of address that is unlikely to incite any offence. -nim -님 is a suffix typically added to job titles or kinship terms. For example, kyosu-nim 교수님 (professor), kisa-nim 기 사님 (driver), eomeo-nim 어머님 (mother), hyeong-nim 형님 (older brother). These endings are very important to convey the tone of an utterance, but often they go untranslated, particularly in film or drama subtitles. In novels, they sometimes appear in italics, depending on the translator’s preference.

Why Don’t You Call Me Hyeong? Address terms prove to be very tricky for non-Korean speakers – after all, native Korean speakers are not always sure about which address terms to use. A certain amount of leniency is afforded to foreigners if they use inappropriate address terms, but there is still potential to cause offence inadvertently. In Korea, foreigners who speak Korean are often not referred to using kinship terms, and foreigners may also feel awkward using them.5 For those of East Asian descent, the use of kinship terms may arise in speech more naturally, as East Asian languages have equivalent kinship terms too. Most Korean people are aware that Westerners don’t use any kinship terms at all in their languages, and thus may not use kinship terms with them.6 It is quite common to hear Western name-ssi used to refer to foreigners, instead of kinship terms. For foreigners, whether to use kinship terms poses great difficulty, as without using them, foreigners are cut off from truly integrating into society. Kinship terms act as a boundary to truly effective communication. An interesting case of this appears in Squid Game (2019). When Abdul Ali, a Pakistani immigrant, meets Sang-woo for the first time, the Squid Game contestants have just begun banding together for survival. Initially, when introduced

40 Address Matters

Figure 3.3 Abdul calls out ‘hyeong’ (형), but Sang-woo has betrayed him, in Squid Game (2021).

to Sang-woo, and for some time in their interactions that follow, Abdul uses the address term sajangnim 사장님 to address both Sang-woo and Gi-hun. Sajangnim is an honorific address term, meaning ‘boss’ or ‘manager’. Abdul uses this address term multiple times without Sang-woo or Gi-hun commenting on it, however it is clear that the interpersonal relations are incorrect. The subtitles translate sajangnim as ‘sir’, so the wrongness is not so obvious in English. Sang-woo and Gi-hun try to be warm towards Ali, and Sang-woo tells him he doesn’t need to use such an honorific term. Despite this, Ali continues to call them sajangnim, as it is a safe term that is commonly used by Asian immigrants in Korea to refer to men politely. Ali only switches to hyeong 형 desperately when Sang-woo betrays him. Ali really exemplifies the difficulty that address terms pose to those who have immigrated or wish to immigrate to Korea. By using the inappropriate address term, Ali’s ‘otherness’ in Korean society is starkly highlighted. It is awkward for Sang-woo and Gi-hun to hear themselves referred to as sajangnim, and as such, their interactions with Ali take on an unnatural undertone. Their relationship with Ali is very good natured (until Sang-woo’s betrayal in Figure 3.3), but there is still a sense of distance between them. This summarises the experience of a lot of foreigners in Korea. It is an issue created by the unique nature of Korean address terms.

The New Oppa The forms and meanings of address terms change over time. One effect of the Korean wave has been a change in usage of the word oppa 오빠. Because of

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its use in romantic relationships, oppa has come to be seen as a flirty term for many non-Korean K-fans. In Southeast Asia in particular, oppa has taken on the meaning of ‘attractive Korean man’, regardless of age. In Korea, however, the word is used in romantic, platonic, and familial contexts, and so it doesn’t have such specific romantic connotations for Korean people. Instead, it is more of an acknowledgement of age. For Koreans, using an address term like oppa, eonni 언니, nuna 누나, or hyeong 형 settles the hierarchy between two individuals. The user of the term acknowledges that they respect their elder, and in turn they request that the elder look after them. Being the elder or more respected person in a relationship means that one receives respect, but it also means that one takes on great responsibility. Korean society functions on the idea that those who are older look after those who are younger, and then when the younger people become the elders, they pay the same care forward. As such, address terms are about hierarchy and maintaining an equilibrium between giving and taking. The way that oppa and eonni are used in English does not imply such agesensitive respectful sentiments. They are terms of endearment to K-fans. For this reason, some K-fans use these terms to refer to K-idols, as a token way to feel closer to them. This new additional meaning is a linguistic phenomenon that is totally unique to the Korean language. Where else are address terms evolving and taking on new meanings so rapidly?

Job Titles Aside from kinship terms, job titles are often used as address terms. In formal situations, such as at work, job titles will almost always be used, and sometimes they will be used in informal settings as a safe way to refer to someone. Job titles can be a safe way to address someone. Often, this form of address appears as , or job title-nim. Not all job titles are created equally, however. Job titles with suffix -sa are often seen as ‘respectable’ jobs: euisa 의사 (doctor), byeonhosa 변호사 (lawyer), kyosa 교사 (professor), yaksa 약사 (chemist), and so on. The sa is so desirable that nurses even requested to change their job title from kanhowon 간호원 to kanhosa 간호사. In comparison, there are many jobs that end with the suffix -won that are seen as less desirable: hwesawon 회사원 (office clerk), mihwawon 미황원 (cleaner), kyeongbiwon 경비원 (janitor). Thus, linguistic discrimination lives not only in the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy, but in address terms of the language as well. The linguistic DNA of Korean is inherently hierarchical, and thus it is prone to discrimination at all times. In Parasite, Mrs Pak refers to Ki-woo by his job title. She begins calling him Kevin ssaem, which is like saying ‘Mr. Kevin’. Using an English name gives him an extra layer of social status, as knowing English is a form of social currency in Korea. The job title ssaem 쌤, an abbreviation of seonsaengnim 선생님 (teacher), adds respect. Throughout the film, Ki-woo is always referred to as Kevin ssaem by the Paks.

42 Address Matters As with Ki-woo, after Ki-jung is accepted as Da-song’s art teacher, she begins to receive the same respect from the other people serving in the Pak household. Driver Yoon shows respect to Ki-jung because she is the teacher of his superior’s son. The English subtitles render his address to her as Miss Jessica, but in Korean, the driver calls her Jessica seonsaengnim (the honorific term for a teacher). The driver and Jessica are not bound by any professional relationship, but the driver nevertheless shows the highest degree of respect to her in his language.

Director Bong vs Song Kang-ho Aside from oppa and eonni entering the Oxford English Dictionary, we are also starting to see some other elements of Korean address terms realised in the English language. After gaining huge renown and success in the West, Parasite and its director, Bong Joon-ho, became a huge talking point for film enthusiasts and critics alike. Interestingly, many film critics refer to Bong Joon-ho as ‘Director Bong’, rather than just Bong, as they might with Spielberg or Tarantino. Notably, BBC Radio 5 presenters Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode, who have spoken a lot about Parasite on Kermode & Mayo’s Film Review, always refer to Bong as Director Bong. When I wrote to them with my observations, noting that their use of Bong’s professional title demonstrated some awareness of Korean culture, they said they did so because John Hurt, who starred in Bong’s film Snowpiercer (2013), insisted specifically that he should be referred to as Director Bong. I also pointed out that they, and many other film critics alike, would always refer to Song Kang-ho (Mr Kim in Parasite), by his name, rather than any title, as is also done in Korea. Song Kang-ho was a renowned actor in Korea long before Parasite, and he is also older than Bong. As such, he is, theoretically, of very high seniority. However, as he is an actor, which is not a traditionally respected profession that comes with an address term (doctor, professor, director, etc.), hence he is not afforded an address term in Korea or in the West. Whether consciously or not, these address-term standards are starting to appear in the English-speaking world.

Seonsaengnim: A Safe Haven Seonsaengnim 선생님, which literally means teacher, is an easy and safe term that can be used to address people in a respectful manner. The use of this term stems from the Joseon dynasty, which grouped the emperor, teachers, and fathers together as being those that one should follow. This was widely known from the phrase gun sa bo il che 군사부일체 (君師父一體), which literally means ‘the ruler, teacher, and father are of one body’. What this actually means can be summarised in the words of Yi Yi (李珥), a famous Confucian scholar and politician in the mid-Joseon Dynasty: ‘The emperor, teachers, and parents are one, so we must respect them with the greatest sincerity’. During the Joseon dynasty, seonsaengnim linguistically referred to someone who was older than you. As such, seonsaengnim is a term of respect, despite the fact that being, say, a primary school teacher is not a highly revered job.

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Figure 3.4 Gi-hun (right) turns to the recruiter (left) unimpressed.

In contemporary Korea, seonsaengnim really refers to a man that you respect. It can be used to address men regardless of age or occupation, and demonstrates that the user looks up to the addressee in one way or another. For women, there is no such term, and so there is a discrepancy in the respect that women receive linguistically as compared with men. Just as Ali used sajangnim to address Gi-hun and Sang-woo in a respectful, stereotypically foreign way, seonsaengnim is the Korean ‘native’ equivalent. Seongsaengnim addresses someone politely, whilst keeping some level of distance between the two speakers. Ssaem 쌤, a shortened form of seonsaengnim, has also come into use to make seonsaengnim feel less hierarchical, and more informal and intimate. Thus, although address terms can often seem rigid and fixed in Korean, they are in fact always changing and evolving. We see such use of the term seonsaengnim in the first episode of Squid Game (2019). When the Squid Game recruiter, played by Gong Yu, initially approaches Gi-hun, he sits down next to Gi-hun and addresses him as ‘seonsaengnim’. Gi-hun turns to the recruiter with a slightly baffled look upon his face (Figure 3.4). Upon taking in the recruiter’s appearance, Gi-hun assumes that the recruiter is a Christian trying to convert him to Christanity. Gi-hun understands the recruiter’s use of ‘seonsaengnim’ as being aimed at schmoozing him to make him more inclined to convert. On the one hand, the recruiter succeeds in picking a safe address term that does not offend Gi-hun, and yet does get his attention. On the other hand, Gi-hun is bemused by the recruiter’s use of seonsaengnim, knowing that his appearance is not one of a respectable seonsaengnim, and as such, Gi-hun is actually more wary of the recruiter at first because of his superfluous choice of address term.

Linguistic Injustice As is probably becoming apparent by now, it is great to be someone of high social status, be that in terms of wealth or education, in Korea, as it affords you a lot

44 Address Matters of grace. Gender has an influence too. There is no equivalent term to seonsaengnim for women. If a woman holds a PhD, however, her level of education may afford the title baksanim 박사님, but marital status, age, and wealth can influence whether baksanim is used or not, and so it is not a universal term in the same way that seonsaengnim is. Two other commonly used terms are ajumma 아줌마 and samonim 사모님. We will explore these two terms in more detail in the next section, but in general, ajumma is either a neutral or negative term that is used to refer to middle-aged women. The term ajumma indicates that the addressee is not of great wealth or education. In comparison, samonim is a more respectful term that acknowledges one’s wealth and education, but it can only be used for married women. As such, there is a vacuum in the address-term selection when it comes to unmarried, educated, and/or wealthy women. Choosing how to address women is thus very difficult because there is a limited selection from which to choose. As an example, I was recently asked about how to address two Korean visitors to Oxford University. Ultimately, I ended up answering that it would be best to avoid addressing them directly, as we didn’t know if the two women were married or held a PhD. Were they men, then the term seonsaengnim may have sufficed. I refer to this problem as linguistic injustice. The linguistic landscape in Korea shows clear preference towards men, and has fewer adequate respectful terms for women.

Linguistic Capitalism: Ajumma 아줌마 vs Samonim 사모님 In pre-modern Korea, the Joseon dynasty operated on the basis of a class system made up of yangban (the noble class) at the top, jungin (the middle class), sangmin (labourers, fishermen, craftsmen, and merchants), and cheomin (butchers, shoemakers, shamans, female entertainers). In 1894, the Gabo Reforms began, which abolished this class system. However, what has emerged since is a new class system based on wealth, in line with capitalism. Yangban used to sit at the top of society, and now they have been replaced by the mega rich. A high socioeconomic status grants you a lot of linguistic respect. This is what I would like to call linguistic capitalism. It divides society and causes a lot of the inequality issues that Parasite and Squid Game are centred around. There is no way to overcome the wealth bias, except through education. This is the reason for which education fever is so prevalent in Asia. In Korea, it is the only way to gain more respect in society, if you lack financial means. Ajumma vs samonim are two common terms used to refer to women, but they have completely different meanings because of the wealth gap between the two. When one mentions ajumma, a very specific image comes to mind. The ajumma is middle-aged. Her clothing lacks style; she wears only what is functional and available. An ajumma’s signature look is often characterised by mismatched patterns, brightly coloured hiking gear, ill-fitting clothes, and permed hair. An ajumma doesn’t fuss much about her appearance. She is loud, outspoken, and always willing to help. The ajumma was born, raised, and came of age in times of hardship; thus she is hardworking and resilient. She is a powerful force to

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be reckoned with – so much so that a popular joke describes the ajumma this way: ‘Who would be left in this world if it ended? Cockroaches and ajummas’. Typically, an ajumma has a low to middle working-class connotation. Many South Koreans would agree that it was by the sweat of the ajummas’ brows and through their unspoken sacrifices that South Korea became the powerhouse it is today. Parasite offers excellent examples of the sorts of behaviour only allowed for ajumma. Parasite has two major ajumma figures: Mun-kwang, the former housekeeper of the affluent Pak family, and Mrs Kim, the wife of the penniless Mr Kim who takes over Mun-kwang’s position in the Pak household after she is fired. Both Mrs Kim and Mun-kwang are loud and outspoken. They boss their incompetent husbands around, while still remaining fiercely loyal to and defensive of them. Because Mrs Kim and Mun-kwang have entered the later stages of middle age and do not have the resources or societal pressure to remain young-looking and feminine, they are afforded much more freedom in the way they carry and express themselves. Thus, both women assume the crude attitudes and postures tolerated only in ajumma. Both women spread themselves out comfortably in wide postures that would be deemed rude in younger or higher-class women, and pay little mind to who is watching them when they do this, because they have passed the time in their lives when they must try to be attractive. The samonim is a breed distinct from the ajumma. She possesses what the ajumma lacks: wealth and status. She is classy and well dressed. She dutifully keeps an orderly and stylish house and raises her children in a similar fashion. She is unendingly supportive of her husband and is always keeping up appearances. The overbearing Gangnam helicopter mom is an example of a samonim. She pays large sums of money to send her children to the best hagwon 학원 (after-school tuition), spends high amounts on prestigious tutors, and pushes her children to study abroad. No price is too high to secure the best for her husband, her children, and herself. The term samonim itself is difficult to translate. While it is often translated as madam, teacher’s wife, or pastor’s wife, here it would be better defined as affluent wife because of the class connotation it carries. Despite the fact that, like the ajumma, she is characterised in relation to her husband and children, the samonim dons an honorific title and a place of higher regard because of her elevated social status. The upper-class social role and attitudes differ from that of the workingclass ajumma, and Director Bong’s representation of Mrs Pak in Parasite (2019) seems to encapsulate this. Mrs Pak is nearing middle age but does not look it. She is fashionable and attractive. She obsessively frets over her children’s image and success. When hiring house staff, she focuses more on repute from others in her circle than on the candidate’s qualifications. Second only to her husband in the household hierarchy, she rules her domestic domain with dignity and poise. Because Mrs Pak is a samonim, she must fulfil a different set of obligations not required of ajumma. For example, she is expected to maintain some level of attractiveness throughout her life because her affluence affords her luxuries such as designer clothing and cosmetic surgery. Thus, under the pressure to remain an ever-youthful, sexy wife

46 Address Matters for her husband, Mrs Pak makes an effort to maintain her appearance while also acting as a competent and dutiful mother and homemaker. Though she lacks the unrelenting grit of the ajumma, the samonim still fights ruthlessly for the advancement of her husband and children. However, unlike the ajumma, she is expected to maintain a level of composure and attractiveness because of her status. Where the ajumma derives power by acting unfeminine, the samonim guards her femininity and finds influence in the privileges granted by her social and financial status.

Second-Person Pronoun Problems In Asian languages, there is always trouble when choosing how to refer to someone in the second person.7 English has a universal second-person pronoun, you. No matter who you are speaking to or where you are, you can always refer to another person as you without a second thought. You is one of the hardest words to translate into Korean. Between friends, neo 너 can be used when a casual speech style is employed. However, if two friends are talking in a public space, neo 너 is too informal to use. Dangsin 당신 is another term for you that a lot of K-fans hear in K-dramas, but its use is limited in real life. It can either be a term of deference or an insult, and is often better to avoid altogether. A common way of referring to the other party is using geujjok 그쪽. This literally means ‘that party’, and is often accompanied by a gesture towards the other party with two hands. This is especially common when two people are unfamiliar with each other. If the two parties know each other well, then it is likely that they will use their established address terms, referring to each other in the third person. For example, one could ask ‘Is this yours?’ by saying, igeoseun samchoneui geoyeyo? ‘이것은 삼촌 삼촌의 거예요?’, which literally translates to ‘Is this Uncle’s?’ In English, one would never refer directly to another party in third person, but in Korean you could ask ‘Is this Uncle’s?’ directly to your uncle, and it is far more acceptable than igeoseun neo geoyeyo? ‘이것은 너 거예요?’ (‘Is this yours?’) Another common tactic is just to avoid using any second-person pronoun at all. Either the listener will work out who the speaker wishes to refer to using context, or some form of gesture or body language will be used to indicate who the speaker is talking about. Table 3.3 provides more information on the words used in the place of the English word ‘you’. As Table 3.4 shows, the second-person pronoun is not easy. Over 100 years ago, Pak Seungbin (1880–1943) called for reform of the Korean language. One change in particular that he suggested was to make the name suffix 씨 ssi into a universal term, to replace the plethora of existing address terms, including those for the second-person pronoun. At the time, -ssi was typically added to the end of women’s names as a politeness marker. Pak proposed that it be used for both men and women, regardless of age. In this way, language would stop propagating out-dated hierarchical systems, and allow society to develop outside of class limitations. His cries for change, however, went unheard.

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Table 3.3 Address terms and their usage Term

Usage

neo 너

Used by a senior to a junior in an informal setting where the two are very close, also possibly between family members or close friends. This can be very disrespectful if used between strangers. Husband and wife can call each other this to show affection (e.g., honey, darling), or it can be used as an honorific pronoun if used in a religious context. It is common to use the other party’s title/address term directly in the position that ‘you’ would go in an English sentence. As long as an appropriate address term has been negotiated, this is a fail-safe way to replace the need for ‘you’. This literally means teacher. Koreans use this term, however, to show respect to a person regardless of their actual job, although usually this term is only used to refer to men. Geujjok is a fairly neutral way to refer to the other party, without having to pick a subtextually loaded second-person pronoun or address term. It is often used when you first meet someone, before address terms have been negotiated. It would usually be used by a senior to a junior, however. Jane is used by a much senior person to refer to a junior. Jane is a distinctively male pronoun, often used by men to men. Rather than using a pronoun at all, a person’s name followed by -nim/-ssi can be used when the need for the second person arises. A junior would never call a senior by their , however. Address terms can be replaced with gestures. These gestures often take the form of gesturing to the other person a) using two hands on top of each other, palms flat and facing upward, or b) one hand with palm flat and facing upward, and the other hand placed on the outstretched forearm. Avoiding using any pronoun can be the easiest choice at times. Gestures will instead be used to clarify who is being referred to.

dangsin 당신

Address term

seonsaengnim 선생님 geujjok 그쪽

jane 자네 [Person’s name] -nim 님 or -ssi씨 Gestures

Avoidance

Embodied Learning: Gganbu 깐부 K-dramas and films provide a unique means of language learning. They allow users to experience embodied language learning, without having to be in Korea itself. In a series of seminars that I gave during the pandemic about K-wave translation, I asked which Korean words my participants remembered from Squid Game (2021), and the most common answer was gganbu 깐부. Gganbu is an old pure Korean word that denotes a true and trustworthy friend. The word, however, is not in the Korean dictionary, and is not commonly used in contemporary Korean language. Nonetheless, it has become one of the most widely recognised Korean words in the world, thanks to its repeated use in Squid Game. The integration of this word into the global lexicon was

48 Address Matters

Figure 3.5 The eldest contestant in Squid Game asks if he and Gi-hun are gganbu.

easy and simple. It was a buzzword for the show, and thus viewers naturally picked it up. Embodied learning is the main way that Korean people learn how to use address terms and speech styles. Just as viewers of Squid Game will have learnt what gganbu means and that it should be used with close friends to create a feeling of solidarity, Korean people learn by watching and trying different address terms throughout their childhood and into adulthood. For those who are learning Korean, embodied learning holds the answer to dealing with Korean pragmatics, although it will always be difficult.

Summary The reality of picking address terms in Korean requires careful consideration. Koreans are always tuning and retuning their senses about which address terms to use and when. They are also constantly assessing the situation to ensure that their choice of address term remains appropriate. There is no one-size-fits-all approach that can be adopted when it comes to address terms, despite what Korean textbooks may say. The situation is far more dynamic, as I hope the examples from K-dramas and films in this chapter have shown. Korea has a complex hierarchical society, and navigating it is complex both for Koreans and non-Koreans. There are rumblings in the younger generations of society that show movement towards a less hierarchical language. Most Korean university students no longer call their seniors using kinship terms. They only use kinship terms for seniors that they are very close to. In the past, they were generally used for all senior students, but their use is more limited now. This shows a general trend towards a

Address Matters

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more individualised society where solidarity matters less. Kinship terms suggest that one looks up to the older person, meaning the younger person is lowered, and the older person takes on a responsibility to look after the younger person. The Korean youth no longer want to be diminished or forced to take on such responsibility. As a result, more and more leniency is becoming visible in the younger generations of society.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Kiaer, Pragmatic Particles. Ibid. Ibid. Shin, Moun Kyoung. A Comparative Study of Honorific Systems in North and South Korea: Shifts since 1950. Order No. 27679000. UK: The University of York, 2017. 5 Kiaer, Jieun, Derek Driggs, Lucien Brown, and Naya Choi. “Ideologies in Second Language Learning: The Case of Korean Address Terms.” Journal of Language, Identity & Education (2022): 1–21. 6 Ibid. 7 Kiaer. Pragmatic Particles.

4

Negotiations A Tug-of-War Between Power and Solidarity

You Sounded Different on the Phone One time, I spoke to someone Korean on the phone, and I must have spoken in a very mature way. I spoke to the other person very politely and they spoke back to me politely. When we later met in person, he discovered that I was much younger than he was. He was shocked, almost as if I had deceived him. Suddenly, he changed his language stylistics and nonverbal behaviour to be more casual. Without the option of visual scanning, the person that I had spoken to had imagined me to be completely different to who I was. Accordingly, he switched his language stylistics without any negotiation, which is quite rare in Korea, but does happen in such situations. In this chapter, we will look at how and why Korean people switch their language stylistics with others, and what the significance is.

All’s Fair in Tug-of-War Thus far, we have explored how Korean people pick speech styles and address terms, but do not be fooled, Korean pragmatics involve far more than finding one appropriate speech style and address term and sticking to it. As a relationship between two people develops and changes – whether it be that they get closer or less close – Korean people’s speech styles and address terms also change too. Similar to the visual scanning that we discussed in Chapter 3, Korean speakers constantly assess and reassess the relationship between themself and the person with whom they are speaking. They consider how the balance of power and solidarity may have changed over time, and as a result, their linguistic choices change. Two friends of different ages who have known each other for a while and gotten close may decide to start using casual speech together. This would be achieved via a period of negotiation, where the elder (usually) would ask the younger if they were happy to speak casually. Were the same two people not to see each other for several years, then they would likely switch back to polite speech when they met again, as it would be symbolic of the new distance between the two people. One’s chosen method of negotiation is expressive in itself – when to shift, with whom, and how to do so smoothly to avoid offence or misunderstanding DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-5

Negotiations 51 is implicative of so much in Korean. How one negotiates shows how one views the hearer as well as oneself. If a speaker respects a hearer, and isn’t eager to put themself first, this will be made clear in how they use expressions of deference, demonstrating that they are not looking for power or intimacy. In comparison, if there is a lack of respect, or more concern about themself, this can be made clear in rapidly moving to informal language that demands intimacy or acknowledgement of superiority. Timing, pace, and the careful crafting of nuance that is not offensive, but purposeful, is key in successful Korean interactions; even in interactions between Koreans and non-Koreans, this tug-of-war is taking place.

Negotiation Theatrics The tug-of-war between power, intimacy, and politeness happens on a daily basis in Korea. In every single interaction, Koreans evaluate the relationship between themselves and to whom they are speaking. According to the context, they decide whether they want to communicate in a manner that satisfies a) distant politeness, b) intimacy and solidarity, or c) the superior-junior dynamic. The resulting changes are much more complex and significant than just changing an address term. No matter the situation, Korean people always establish the dynamics of the relationship with anyone that they meet for the first time.1 This can be achieved verbally or nonverbally. If one does not establish the dynamics of the relationship upon the initial meeting, then it reflects poorly on oneself. The initial negotiation of address terms, speech styles, and other pragmatic factors is a rite of passage when you meet someone for the first time. To not work out the relationship appears inconsiderate and presumptuous. For some relationships, the initial negotiation will be enough. In most cases, however, relationships change over time. What if people get closer and then want to use more intimate speech? What if they become distant and then feel uncomfortable using such intimate speech? What if the power dynamics change between two people, and now someone is of higher superiority than they were before? These are conundrums that Korean people have to work through every day. The answer to these questions lies in the theatre of negotiation. Negotiating speech styles once the dynamic in a relationship has changed is almost like a performance. In the case of moving from polite speech to casual speech, the elder in the relationship usually initiates the shift. They might say, mal pyeonhage halkka? 말 편하게 할까? (‘shall we speak comfortably?’). Much like picking a speech style and address term can form part of a linguistic routine, negotiation of changing the linguistic stylistics is somewhat like a routine, too. Nonetheless, each situation will require its own fine tuning. These periods of negotiation are extremely common in the Korean language. They are a daily occurrence. Watch any Korean variety show and there will always be some discussion of language in regards to politeness, superiority, or intimacy. Figure 4.1 displays an example of an unscripted negotiation of shift in speech styles. This happens in Workman, a popular weekly Korean YouTube

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Figure 4.1 Jang Sunggyu (left) suggests to Chaewon (right) that he speak comfortably.

show, in which Jang Sunggyu (former news anchor), tries out different jobs for the day (Figure 4.1). In episode 148, he is joined by Chaewon of K-pop group Iz*One. In the opening of the show, Jang says to Chaewon, ‘I’ll speak comfortably so that we can have fun working together today’ (pyeonhage 편하게, which literally means ‘comfortably’, is interestingly translated as ‘frankly’ by the show’s translator).2 As the older of the two, Jang is in a position to initiate casual speech, during their initial meeting. Chaewon replies using casual speech, ‘Then, I will speak comfortably too.’ Jang replies, ‘How so?’ and Chaewon answers, ‘Ya’, which is an exclamative used only to juniors by their seniors. Clearly, this is a joke to create humour and entertainment for the audience. Nonetheless, it shows how the process of negotiation can be fun and humorous. Those in a senior position in Korea do not rule over their juniors with an iron fist. Thus, although it is possible to offend someone during negotiation, it is often the case that people want to talk in a comfortable and friendly manner, and this is one of the reasons why negotiation is so important.

Who Initiates the Shift? As aforementioned, it is usually the senior in a relationship who initiates a change from polite to casual speech. This is because the senior in an interaction usually sets the tone of the conversation, and the junior follows. As such, there is less potential for a senior to offend a junior, although it is still possible. In some cases, a junior can also request that their senior not use such formal language, saying mal noheuseyo 말 놓으세요 (please lower your speech), but a junior will never suggest that they themself lower their speech style. They would need the senior in the situation to invite them to do that.

Negotiations 53 In Figure 4.2, there is another example of an unscripted shift from polite to casual speech, but this time it is not successful. This is from Running Man (2010-present), a long-standing Korean variety show in which a group of celebrities participate in various challenges. In this episode, Jongkook and Sechan have been paired up as a team to go on a trip abroad together.3 Jongkook is older than Sechan, and he is known for being quite fierce personality-wise. Once they have been paired up, Jongkook says, ‘Travel with me as if we’re friends’. Jongkook refers to himself as ‘hyeong’ in this sentence, highlighting his superiority in the dynamic. In response, Sechan cheekily replies, ‘Okay, then let’s be comfortable, Jongkook’. Sechan switches to the casual speech style, and calls Jungkook by his name + the vocative particle ‘a’. Jongkook is shocked to hear this, and Sechan immediately switches back to formal speech, saying ‘joesonghamnida, hyeong’, ‘sorry, hyeong’. Jongkook replies, ‘“As if” we’re friends, doesn’t mean we have become friends’. In this case, friend (chingu) really means ‘the same age’. Jongkook wanted Sechan to be comfortable around him, but not so comfortable that they are like same-age friends. In this negotiation, Sechan was too bold as a junior, and it shocked his senior. Of course, this was an act that was far from being serious. It made all the other celebrities on the show laugh. Nonetheless, it is a good example of why juniors follow their seniors’ lead when it comes to negotiation. Speakers do not always go from formal to informal speech, however. Sometimes, speech styles move from informal to formal. This can happen with family members who you see as a child and then later on as an adult. Your aunts and uncles might refer to you by your name + vocative particle as a child, and speak to you using banmal, but when you grow up, they may not feel this is so appropriate anymore. To acknowledge the distance between you and them, they may switch to polite speech and avoid calling your name. This is a very respectful thing to do,

Figure 4.2 Sechan (left) holds out his hand for a handshake, agreeing to treat Jongkook casually by speaking banmal. Jongkook (left) is shocked.

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as to do otherwise could force an uncomfortable intimacy upon two people who do not know each other very well.

Beware of Banmal Banmal, or casual speech, is very important for creating solidarity in Korean society, but its use is risky when compared with other speech styles. I carried out a neuroimaging study with 25 Korean native speakers at Seoul National University.4 In the study, we had several conversations where the politeness or intimacy level of the conversation was mismatched. I found that an overuse of politeness elicited very little response in the brain, but an inappropriate use of banmal gave a strong N400 effect. The N400 effect is like a red alarm going off in the brain. I concluded that over-politeness is tolerable in Korean society. Even if the politeness is unnecessary, it likely only creates a sense of distance and awkwardness. In comparison, an overly casual interaction is shocking to Korean speakers. Using banmal can suggest that the user looks down on the listener. It is okay to be too polite, but being too casual can be jarring.

Consequences of the Wrong Tuning Beyond shocking or offending the hearer, using banmal in the wrong place at the wrong time can have more serious consequences. Offending someone in this manner can even result in violence. Below are some stories that made newspaper headlines after fights broke out about the use of banmal. Generally, conflicts tend to occur most between middle-aged men. There are comparatively few stories about women, and those that do exist are usually about celebrities. Three male-male conflicts: Professor B of Police Studies was playing a card game with Professor A, who was ten years his junior, when Professor A spoke banmal to him. Professor B physically attacked him for the next two hours (Kyunghyangshinmum). A and B met over a computer game. A, who was younger, spoke in banmal to B. They argued, and then met in person. B proceeded to stab A with a knife (Gukmin ilbo). B attacked and killed A, who was his subordinate from the Marine Corps, when A spoke to him in banmal (Seokyeo ilbo).

Three female-female conflicts: A video of the actress Lee Tayim cursing at the singer Yeywen has been published. Lee claims that Yeywen used banmal first. Yeywen denies this but it is confirmed that Yeywen used banmal to Lee first (Hanguk ilbo). A broadcaster, Sa Yuli (Japanese but fluent in Korean) asks the announcer Bae Hyeonjin how old she is after Bae speaks banmal to her. Upon finding out she is younger, Bae apologizes (Heleldu kyeongje). The singer Ka In makes an appearance on a program and complains about the younger singer, Seo Inyeong, speaking banmal to her group member, Narusha (Sekye ilbo).

Negotiations 55 These headlines demonstrate the seriousness of stylistics in the Korean language. Though the male-male conflicts are particularly serious cases, it is worth understanding the gravity of speech styles and address terms and how much they can mean to people in Korean society – especially those in older generations.

Why Change Speech Style? Having read the previous two sections about banmal and its potential negative implications, you may be wondering why anyone chooses to use it at all. I have asked several Korean speakers about their use of banmal and these were the positive responses that I received:5 Male, age 24: ‘Wherever you go, and whomever you meet, if you are the same age or one of you is younger, by communicating with banmal, you can develop a bond of sympathy very quickly’. Female, age 22: ‘When you use banmal, you can break down walls and get close. When you use jondaemal, no matter how close you say you are, there is always a feeling of a barrier there’. Male, age 63: ‘When banmal is used without reservation and not in a condescending way, with a close friend or in a trusting subordinate relationship, it creates a feeling of extreme closeness, without any mental barriers, so I think it is [positive]’. Female, age 41: ‘It is a mark of intimacy, and evidence that you have become close with someone’.

Stylistic Shift: School vs the Workplace The way that shifts to and from banmal happen vary in accordance with the environment. In schools, for example, teachers use banmal to their younger students without needing to negotiate. However, when children are of high school age, then the tone changes, and the use of banmal is less frequent. This penetrates into university, too. When I was a student, one of my professors spoke to me using banmal and addressed me as Jieun-a, as I was in a very junior position. Once I had achieved my PhD and become a professor, the dynamics between us changed quite abruptly. Now, my professor refers to me as seonsaengnim (teacher) or paksanim (doctor) and speaks to me using the polite -yo form. Teachers and professors often teach their students over long periods of time, meaning the relational dynamics change, affecting linguistic behaviour. Amongst students pre-university, the use of polite speech may be a bit more lax. Less negotiation may be needed to switch to banmal. In school settings, one can hear the elder and younger in an interaction both speaking banmal quite often, as students seem to feel more open to sharing an informal relationship, often using kinship terms to refer to each other. Workplace settings are very different. An older person would only use banmal only once both speakers agree. Nonetheless, older speakers feel less guilty to shift

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to half-talk even when there was no prior negotiation between the two interlocutors, if there is a significant age difference. For instance, it would be easier for someone in their 50s or 60s to shift to half-talk with a teenager without negotiation. When it comes to the military, however, the use of banmal between junior and senior is very rare. Ranks are clearly established, and those who are more senior always expect polite speech from their juniors.

Transparent Language: Speech-Style Shifts in Squid Game Shift in speech styles, as well as address terms and other Korean pragmatics, all demonstrate what one person thinks of another. Polite speech creates distance between two people, establishing that they are not close and so are politely considerate of each other. Banmal, on the other hand, creates a sense of intimacy, but the casualness of it can seem rude. As such, Korean is a wholly transparent language, where whatever you say has attitudinal connotations attached. The attitudinal connotations attached to a shift in speech style are very hard to portray in an English translation. Subtitles in K-dramas are often unable to indicate the shift when it happens. Korean listeners gain an enriched contextual understanding of the characters and their relational dynamics, whilst for non-Korean speakers, this goes unseen. There are plenty of examples of half-talk shift, and the tug-of-war between power and solidarity, in Squid Game (2021). In one scene, the contestants have just entered the Squid Game arena for the first time. Deok-su, the violent and cruel ‘gangster’ of the contestant pool spots Sae-byeok, a pickpocket North Korean defector amongst the crowd. Sae-byeok had originally worked for Deok-su, but then went independent, creating bad blood between them. As Deok-su is confronting Sae-byeok, the series’ protagonist, Gihun, who has been pickpocketed by Sae-byeok, realises who she is. Enraged, Gihun storms over to confront Sae-byeok, shoving Deok-su out of the way. Gi-hun gets a few sentences out, asking Sae-byeok to return his money, and then Deok-su shoves Gi-hun out of his way. The following altercation ensues:

Speaker Korean

Netflix subtitles

Speech style Address terms

Gi-hun

What the hell!

Banmal

N/A

Who are you? Who the hell are you?

Banmal

Deok-su refers to Gi-hun as neo, an informal address term, which is rude in this case because the pair don’t know each other N/A

아 씨! 뭐야?

Deok-su 너 뭐야?! 너 뭐야?! 이 새끼야 !

Gi-hun

네, 저, 저는 Me? Well . . . I’m Polite 쌍문동 사는 Seong Gi-hun from 성기훈인데요 Ssangmun-dong.

Negotiations 57 Speaker Korean

Netflix subtitles

Speech style Address terms

Deok-su 어이, 상 문동 씨

Hey, Mr Ssangmun-dong.

Banmal

Gi-hun 예 Deok-su 나 이 년이랑 아직 얘기가 안 끝났는데 Gi-hun 아, 예, 죄송합니다, 저도 이 자매님이랑 급한 용건이 좀 있어서요. Deok-su 너 이 새끼! 이 년이랑 무슨 관계야? Gi-hun 하, 잠, 정말, 그러는 너는 무슨 관계신데요?

Yes. I wasn’t done with this bitch.

Honorific Banmal

I’m sorry but I also have some urgent business with this lady over here.

Polite

You bastard. How do you know this bitch? My god. Then how do you know her?

Banmal Honorific

Deok-su refers to Gi-hun as Ssangmun-dong ssi. Ssi is a polite suffix to add to one’s name, but Deok-su refers to Gi-hun by his hometown name, thus mocking him. N/A Deok-su refers to Saebyeok as nyeon, which literally means girl, but is derogatory in this context. Gi-hun refers to Saebyeok as jamae-nim, which literally means sister, and features the honorific -nim particle at the end. Deok-su refers to Gi-hun as neo again. N/A

Gi-hun begins talking to Deok-su using banmal, but upon seeing Deok-su and completing a visual scan of him, he quickly changes back to polite speech. Gihun sees Deok-su as a threat to his safety, and thus, although it is not clear who of the pair is older, Gi-hun defers to Deok-su. Deok-su’s use of banmal shows that he looks down upon Gi-hun and knows his physical power. This scene in Squid Game presents a dramatised version of what is happening in Korean society every day. Gi-hun assesses the situation and reacts accordingly, because he is not in a position of power. Deok-su, who has a lot of power, is much more carefree. As such, their attitudes towards each other are completely transparent. Deok-su is undaunted by Gi-hun and looks down on him. Gi-hun is afraid of Deok-su and so tries to appease him with polite speech.

Background Check There are three important yeon 연 (relationships) in Korea that can make the negotiation of communication styles much smoother: hyeolyeon혈연 (kinship

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Figure 4.3 Gi-hun pushes Deok-su off of Sae-byeok.

relations), hakyeon학연 (school relations), and jiyeon지연 (hometown relations). Finding out you have a link to someone through one of these relations can establish an instant closeness between speakers. The majority of the ambiguity between two people disappears when they find out that they have some kind of shared background. Obviously, those of the same family will likely know that they are related by blood. Kinship relations imply a certain level of trust. Chaebol (rich families) notably favour kinship bonds, and they tend to have all the branches of their economic empire controlled by family members. In other situations, finding out that someone went to the same university, high school, middle school, or even kindergarten immediately establishes a seonbae 선배 (senior) – hubae 후배 (junior) or same-age relationship between two people. This can remove all the uncertainty about age, socioeconomic status, seniority, and marital status, leaving two people to communicate in a more friendly manner. The same is true of hometown relations. Hometown relations can be as broad as being from the same area, that is to say that just two people being from the southeast of South Korea can be enough to create a great sense of shared identity between two people. This shared experience of being from the same area will sometimes be obvious verbally in accent or dialect. Hometown relations can also be very specific, including relationships of people from the same ancestral clans. Many Koreans share the same surname, although this does not guarantee that they are of the same ancestral clans. One need only look to the South Korean national football team for proof of this. There are five Kims, three Hwangs, and two Jeongs (spelt Jeong and Jung) on the team. As this reflects, Kim makes up the largest proportion of surnames in Korea, followed by Yi and Bak. These shared surnames cause problems for commentators who usually refer to players by their last names

Negotiations 59 alone, as the players cannot be differentiated. However, just because players have the same surname, it does not mean they are of the same ancestral line. Being from the same area or clan can establish immediate closeness between two people. It can also make elders look upon someone younger than them more favourably. In Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022), one of the judges cares about hometown relations particularly strongly. During one trial, Woo Young-woo and her colleague Choi Su-yeon are defending a North Korean defector who has been charged with bodily harm as a result of robbery. At one point, Young-woo interrupts the prosecutor, and the judge cuts her off, asking, ‘Which family clan (본 관 bon gwan) are you from?’ Taken aback, Young-woo replies that she is of the Woo clan from Danyang. The judge replies, ‘Danyang is in Chungcheongbukdo province, right? So why are you in such a hurry to cut what someone else is saying off?’ Upon hearing the judge talking about family clans, the prosecutor asks, ‘Is your family clan the Ryus from Pungsan?’ When the judge asks how he knows, the prosecutor responds, ‘Aren’t the Pungsan Ryus a longstanding clan from Andong Hahoe Folk Village? You give that kind of impression. My family is from Andong too, and since Pungsang is a part of Andong, we are from the same hometown.’ The judge chuckles good-naturedly and says that he is glad to have met the prosecutor. Young-woo and Su-yeon observe the interaction with grim expressions because they know that the prosecutor is trying to curry favour, and is succeeding. Young-woo and Su-yeon encounter the same judge again in a later episode when, much to their dismay, they are facing a lawyer of the Pungsan Ryu clan. Upon finding out they are of the same family clan, the judge asks, ‘What generation name does your father belong to?’ The lawyer asks why he doesn’t ask which generation name she uses. She is a lawyer who usually defends women’s rights, and the idea that women cannot continue their family line is seen as discriminatory. She proceeds to explain that she is of the 26th generation of the clan, and then she works out the judge is of the 27th generation, concluding that she is technically his ‘aunt’, even though she is younger than him. The judge is a bit shocked, but he looks favourably upon the lawyer later in the trial. Even though the two have never met before in their lives, just the fact that they have the same surname is enough to make the judge feel closer to the lawyer than he does to Young-woo’s team. Being of the same family clan immediately throws off feelings of wariness and distance between two people. If there is no shared bond, then people revert to age, seniority, and socioeconomic status to work out how to communicate, but this creates more room for causing offence and thus is comparatively stressful. The Korean ‘background check’ that comes up in conversation naturally and frequently is one of the reasons why Korean society can seem so closed off to foreigners, and to second-generation Korean diaspora too. If you do not belong to a Korean family clan, did not go to school in South Korea, and aren’t related to any Korean people, then you can suddenly feel quite distant, particularly from older generations. Without that initial common ground, it can be so very difficult to establish warm relationships with anyone in South Korean society. Even North Korean defectors can find South Korean society impenetrable because just being

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Korean still isn’t quite enough to establish their place. Some think of this as corruption, and to some extent, this can be true. Politicians are famously known for forming factions according to region. Whilst Korea still sees itself as a homogenous country, however, it will remain the norm. As South Korea becomes more transnational, transcultural, and translingual however, we may see the system adapt to better suit the reality of life in the country.

On the Periphery: Korean Diaspora and Non-Native Korean Speakers Korean people learn how to engage in negotiation throughout their lives. By growing up in Korean society, they naturally pick up on the best way to navigate this part of interpersonal relations. Many members of the second-generation Korean diaspora state that they find getting the pragmatics of the Korean language right very difficult, and that it acts as a barrier for them to feel comfortable when in South Korea. No matter how well they speak Korean, it is hard for members of the second-generation Korean diaspora to tune into Korean society, when they haven’t lived there all their lives. One may think that mastering negotiation is not necessary for second-language learners. However, with foreign interest in Korean on the rise, and the public’s interest in understanding both Korean interpersonal pragmatic communication and Korean nuance, there are certainly foreigners who want to and do negotiate.6 It is through these more complex and, until now, neglected aspects of Korean second-language learning that foreign learners of Korean can gain a real fluent command over the language. Many Korean-language learners today are keen to participate in the Korean products that they are purchasing. The number of foreigners living in Korea is also rising. Numbers have tripled since 2005, reaching 3.6% of the population in 2015.7 As of 2018, 5% of children born in Korea are multi-ethnic, and it is predicted that 10% of the population will be either foreign-born or multi-ethnic by 2030.8 Learning these unique elements of Korean communication therefore can only serve to meet foreign Koreanlanguage learners’ aims and provide them fulfilment in learning Korean.

Negotiation Online South Korea is at the forefront of virtual immigration, with virtual reality spaces becoming very popular amongst students. VR sites like Zepeto and Roblox are leaders in the metaverse, and are influencing language in South Korea. In these VR spaces, a new kind of negotiation is taking place. The Gen Z community using Zepeto care less about formalities than the older generation in Korea. For Gen Z, it is common to ask a new friend, banmohalkkayo? 반모할까요? when online. Banmo is a neologism made up of the Korean word banmal (informal speech), and the English word ‘mode’. ‘Banmohalkkayo?’ means ‘Shall we speak in banmal mode?’ It is acceptable for the younger or older person in the interaction to ask this. The aim of the question is to stop there being an awkward distant feel between two online friends.

Negotiations 61 In the scene from Figure 4.1, the Workman editors added the subtitle ‘banmo’ ‘반모’ to the top of the screen when Chaewon spoke banmal to her elder, Jang Sunggyu. This was an acknowledgement of her generation, suggesting that a member of the Gen Z generation has activated their banmal mode. It also demonstrates how variety shows adopt new neologisms as a way of creating humour and staying up to date with the latest online trends. In this way, variety shows accelerate the diversification of the Korean language, and promote linguistic innovation.

Summary In this chapter, we have seen the metaphorical tug-of-war that happens in Korean speakers’ minds when they communicate with anyone. Korean speakers juggle the desire for intimacy and closeness with the need to acknowledge hierarchical power structures and politeness. With the addition of online environments and more and more second-language speakers of Korean, the process is always evolving to suit our linguistic needs. Consequently, the tug-of-war is becoming ever more complex to negotiate. The key, once again, lies in social tuning, and the ability to comprehend what is appropriate in which situation. With careful negotiation, positive interactions can be achieved.

Linguist’s Corner: The Half-Talk Shift Shifting between banmal and jondaemal is one of the primary forms of negotiation, and the one that requires the most caution. Thus, it provides an ideal case for us to delve into further here. According to Yeon and Brown, in Korean honorifics the speaker must ‘calculate [their] relationship with the person they are talking to’.9 Lee and Ramsey, among others, regard age and social hierarchy or rank as defining factors in this calculation.10 Some scholars emphasise the important roles power and solidarity play on Korean speakers’ choice in speech style. The recent structural and sociolinguistic changes in Korean speech styles is related to the fact that, in Korean society, power and formality have been pushed aside by solidarity and informality.11 Furthermore, when comparing the paradigmatic and syntagmatic patterns of honorifics among American English, Japanese, and Korean speakers, Americans appear to render the greatest relative importance to intimacy, Japanese to groupness, and Koreans to age.12 Other scholars agree that speech styles are a function of power. However, the actual usage of speech styles is much more complex than these descriptions, and often contradicts views like Lee’s. For instance, grandchildren use half-talk with their grandmothers or equivalents, who are obviously much older and more senior. Likewise, even adults often use half-talk to their mothers in their private speech, only using the politer -yo form in the presence of others. Strauss and Eun explore the difference in the polite -yo ending and the deferential -upnida ending, challenging the traditional notion that these forms have a purely hierarchical function.13 They conclude that ‘rather than relating to

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social status and hierarchy, honorific speech level choice is actually motivated quite strongly by information status with respect to both speaker and interlocutor’.14 Information status refers to the difference between the sharing of information that was previously unknown and the sharing of information that was already known. A later study on the -yo and -upnida forms by the same authors finds another basis for speech-style choice. They find that ‘the phenomenon of honorific speech level alternation in Korean relates more, if not entirely, to . . . exclusion and inclusion . . . than it does to actual social factors such as age, profession, and status’.15 Brown (2015) examines these two speech styles (-upnida and -yo) in further depth. He disagrees with Strauss and Eun, claiming that, actually, ‘The difference between -yo and -upnida is that the former lacks the presentational qualities of the latter’.16 The presentational quality refers to utterances made in a specific role versus those made outside of that role. These different perspectives on the usage of speech styles challenge the prevalent conception that speech styles are used purely to express social status, and reveal that speech styles have a wider, more complex set of functions. There are also some studies that claim that speech styles are shifted for interpersonal purposes. For instance, it has been claimed that teachers shift their classroom default of polite speech to half-talk when giving discipline, advising, or warning.17 In college-level L2 classrooms, on the other hand, instructors shift their polite speech style to half-talk during conversations on personal topics to express their solidarity with students.18 Many Korean speakers identify politeness as the main role of their honorific system.19 Levinson and Brown (1987) propose three variables – distance, power, and imposition – in order to explain politeness. The contrast between the distance and power variables is one that is often discussed in relation to half-talk. Lee Jeongbok describes the concept of distance, or intimacy, as a ‘secondary factor’20 in Korean honorifics, admitting that ‘Even when there is a great difference in level of power, it is possible for people who are intimate or close to [not use honorifics]’.21 Lee’s discussion of ‘distance’ is determined by ‘gender and familiarity’ and ‘can be divided into physical distance and psychological distance’.22 He goes further to illustrate how physical distance includes both ‘time distance and space distance’.23 When a speaker is referring to even a very high-ranking figure from history, honorific speech is unlikely to be used because of the time distance.24 Similarly, when referring to a high-ranking figure in another country, honorific language is rarely used because of the space distance.25 When this distance is present, ‘even in relation to someone who, under the power factor, should be treated honorifically’, people will not use honorific speech.26 Lee acknowledges that sometimes the interplay will become more complicated depending on the levels of intimacy and power, explaining that ‘In situations where the two factors collide, one factor does not take precedence over the other, but rather, according to conversation or linguistic usage context, and . . . relationship, the [impact] of the two factors will be different’.27 Other researchers have gone to further lengths to prove the importance of intimacy as a function of the half-talk shift (shifting from jondaemal to banmal), showing

Negotiations 63 how it is often more important than the power variable. Park (2017), for example, uses reality TV shows to show that shifting to half-talk is a way to establish an intimate relationship, and particularly that the failure to do so directly indicates a lack of closeness in their relationships.28 Kim elaborates on the idea that speech level could be more related to intimacy than hierarchical power. He even comments that the use of honorific language in the wrong setting may cause ‘serious offence’, as it indicates a feeling of disconnection or separation.29 On the other hand, the lowering of speech into non-honorific levels will often be seen by the subordinate as a sign of intimacy or closeness, rather than disrespect, he explains.30 From the existing research (much of which is summarised previously) on the Korean honorific system, it is clear that speech styles comprise a hierarchical system but have complex, diverse functions. It is important to understand this, because, as mentioned, most Korean speakers see their language as not a six-tier system, but as a dichotomy of respectful language and intimate language – jondaemal and banmal.31

Notes 1 Kiaer, Guest, and Li. Translation and Literature in East Asia. 2 “Hellish Fasting House That Even Starves the Bugs . . . | Fasting House | Workman Ep.148.” YouTube, 2022. www.youtube.com/watch?v=h66mDJZ6kcg&t=67s. 3 Choi Hyung-in. Running Man. SBS. 2010-present. Episode 390. 4 Kiaer et al. “An ERP Study on the Pragmatic Processing of Korean Honorifics and Politeness.” submitted. 5 Kiaer, Guest, and Li. Translation and Literature in East Asia. 6 Kiaer and Kim. Understanding Korean Film. 7 OECD. “Foreign Population (Indicator).” 2022. Accessed November 10, 2022. https:// doi.org/10.1787/16a914e3-en. 8 Ibid. 9 Brown and Yeon. Korean, 171. 10 Lee, Iksop, and S. Robert Ramsey. The Korean Language. SUNY Series in Korean Studies. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000. 11 Sohn, Ho-min. “Power and Solidarity in the Korean Language.” Research on Language & Social Interaction 14, no. 3 (1981): 431–452. 12 Hijirida, Kyoko, and Ho-min Sohn. “Cross-Cultural Patterns of Honorifics and Sociolinguistic Sensitivity to Honorific Variables: Evidence from English, Japanese, and Korean.” Research on Language & Social Interaction 19, no. 3 (1986): 365–401. 13 Eun, Jong Oh, and Susan Strauss. “The Primacy of Information Status in the Alternation between Deferential and Polite Forms in Korean Public Discourse.” Language Sciences 26, no. 3 (2004): 251–272. 14 Ibid., 271. 15 Strauss, Susan, and Jong Oh Eun. “Indexicality and Honorific Speech Level Choice in Korean.” Linguistics 43, no. 3 (2005): 611–651. 16 Brrown, Lucien. “Revisiting ‘Polite’ – Yo and ‘Deferential’ – Supnita Speech Style Shifting in Korean from the Viewpoint of Indexicality.” Journal of Pragmatics 79 (2015): 43–59. 17 Kim, Jyu-hyun, and Kyung-hee Suh 서경희. “Style Shift in Korean Pedagogical Discourse.” 사회언어학 15, no. 2 (2007): 1–29. 18 Park, Mi Yung. “Teachers’ Use of the Intimate Speech Style in the Korean Language Classroom.” Korean Language in America 17, no. 1 (2012): 55–83.

64 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

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Lee. “Principles of the Function . . .” 177. Ibid., 272. Ibid., 319. Ibid., 272. Ibid., 298. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 332. Pak, Mee-jeong. “Negotiating Solidarity and Politeness in Korean Interaction.” 국제 한국어교육 3 (2017): 201–240. 29 Kim, Alan Hyun-Oak. “Politeness in Korea.” Chapter. In Dániel Z. Kádár and Sara Mills (Eds.), Politeness in East Asia (pp. 176–207). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011: 195. 30 Ibid., 197. 31 Lee and Ramsey. The Korean Language, 251.

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When I learnt English, I practised by sending hand-written letters to an American pen pal. I would go to the post office to send a letter from Korea to Oregon and wait several weeks to hear back. Sending a letter seems archaic now. Since the introduction of smartphones to our lives, the way we communicate has been transformed. In the past, we could only write letters or speak to each other on a wired phone, if we were not with somebody in person. The computer allowed us to send emails, but only when we were sitting at our computer. The smartphone, however, provided us with a portable device that we could take everywhere with us. The development of widespread network coverage across the world means that we can communicate with almost anyone, no matter where they are, and we can do it instantly. How we communicate is now intrinsically linked to the online world. Social media communication is ubiquitous, not only in Korea but all over the globe. We can’t think about human communication without considering how we talk through social media platforms. The way that we choose to communicate online is different to the way that we communicate in person, and this varies in accordance with which languages and cultures that we belong to, too. As such, it is not only important to learn how to write, read, and speak another language in person and on paper, it is now also important to learn how to text speak and emoji speak. Emoji speak is a term that I have coined to describe how we communicate on social media these days.1 Pre-smartphone and social media, we used to text using characters only. Now, we emoji. Emoji is an umbrella term that encompasses a range of audio-visual features in online communication, including, but not limited to, the emoji keyboard, sticker packs, memes, gifs, soundmojis, Animojis, memojis, emoticons, and avatars. We use emojis so often that they are just a part of the way that we communicate online. Before we used letter words only to communicate, now we use emoji words too. For this reason, I propose that emoji be used as both a noun and a verb, to emoji, much like text can be used as both a noun and verb. Emojing and texting are now permanently interwoven. Sometimes, text can even become emojis, as we will see later in this chapter. Just as we can’t go back to the analogue era, we cannot return to a time of communicating without emoji speak. Developments in AI and big data are making us more dependent on technology, and such developments will influence our human communication for many years to come. DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-6

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Emoji speak is borderless. It does not live within any one language, but across languages. This does not mean, however, that the individual cultures and subcultures to which we belong do not affect how we emoji. Different (sub)cultures have different standards for communication, and these are reflected in our online communication too. Cultural differences are not, however, always reflected as exact replicas of conventions from offline communication. Online communication is free from grammatical norms, and there is much more room for creativity. In the case of Korea, this raises the questions: how are speech styles and address terms used in online communication? And how does one be considerate of age and socioeconomic status when using emojis with Korean people? These are two questions that we will answer in this chapter. For learners of Korean, or any language really, online communication is very important. Pen pals are a thing of the past; they have been replaced with online language buddies. Many of my students practise Korean with Korean people that they have met online. Of course, they could also practise their language on a telephone or voice call, but this can put a lot of pressure on language learners, especially those who are less experienced. Messaging online gives language learners time to think about their response and read it over, rather than them having to reply instantly. As such, some language learners may get more out of messaging online.2 Some language buddies may be able to meet in person, but distance, and now pandemic restrictions, make meeting up with a language buddy more difficult than communicating online. South Korea is a country in which the prevalence of social media is especially high. Internet coverage in Korea services over 95% of the country, which is the highest coverage for any Asian country outside of the Middle East.3 Korea also has the fastest internet speeds in the world.4 According to the Pew Research Institute, South Korea has the highest smartphone-ownership rate in the world, at 94%.5 What is more, South Korea has the third-largest population of active users on social media at 91.2%. As such, when thinking about Korea in particular, it is important to consider how Koreans communicate online, as this type of communication is so widespread.

The History of Korean Texting The application of the visual features of keyboard characters in South Korea dates back to the 1980s and 90s when pagers were widely used. The main purpose of the pager was to receive a notification with a phone number, which the user would then dial when available. Although it betrayed the main purpose, some users attempted to send a sentence using numbers. For example, the sequence 177155400 meant ‘I miss you’. The number 1 represents the Roman alphabet letter i, 77 represents m, and 5 represents s. The 4 represents y, and 00 represents ou. The standard meaning of each number is irrelevant here; the visual similarity between numbers and characters is the key to decode this message. Another elegant example can be found in the sequence 38317, which was used to express affectionate feelings towards the receiver. When read upside down, 38317 resembles the German word LIEBE (‘love’) written in capital letters.

Social Media Stylistics 67 Text messaging services on mobile phones, which were becoming popular in the late 1990s, led to a whole new texting culture in South Korea. This was when emoticon use became widespread in the country. Alongside simpler smiley faces such as (^_^), there were numerous early emoticons used at the time. For example, (-_-) was used to express mild annoyance or frustration. Meanwhile, ; was used as a visual representation for sweat, with the addition of one or more semicolons to an emoticon serving to express a sense of nervousness, for example (^_^);;. Some services included pre-set libraries of complex emoticons to save time for the end user.

The Basics of Korean Texting One of the first things to know about contemporary Korean texting and social media is that Korean communities tend to use different platforms to those that are most popular in the West. After the third generation of iPhones appeared in the South Korean market, KakaoTalk (the first Instant Messaging program in Korea, which was exclusive to the mobile platform), was released in March 2010. There was a rapid movement towards touch-based smartphones in South Korea, and KakaoTalk messaging soon began to replace text messaging. Amongst all the messaging services available, KakaoTalk has been the dominant messaging service in South Korea.6 KakaoTalk, also referred to as KaTalk in South Korea, is a messaging application run by Kakao Corporation. It had over 53 million active users worldwide as of 2021, and it is the most popular mobile application in South Korea. In fact, 93% of all smartphone users in Korea are reported to use the application.7 After Kakao merged with Daum, Korea’s second biggest internet portal in 2014, Kakao’s revenue almost tripled with sales surpassing 2.4 trillion Korean won in 2018. In a 2016 survey of 7300 people, WiseApp found that the average Korean spends 20 minutes on KakaoTalk per day, whilst they only spend 6 minutes reading per day.8 This average was highest amongst women in their 20s, who spent around 36 minutes a day on KakaoTalk. This number has likely only grown since the pandemic, which has accelerated our digital migration. There are a few key features of Korean texting that you will only find used in Korean communities. One of the first things to note is that the terms imotikon 이 모티콘 (emoticon) and seutikeo 스티커 (sticker) are more commonly used than the term emoji in the Korean language. This is largely because of KakaoTalk. The platform launched its own emoticon service in November 2011, soon after iOS began supporting an emoji keyboard. The pre-set emoji keyboards on Apple and Android phones are designed by Unicode, a board made up of mostly American members.9 As such, the emoji keyboard does not have a satisfactory range of expressions for East Asian users. KakaoTalk’s sticker packs, which are designed to target the Korean and East Asian market, allow for manga-like expressions of emotion, and full-body images of characters, which help to make their intended meanings more nuanced. Emojis are based on the Unicode standard and are used across platforms, but KakaoTalk emoticons are exclusive to KakaoTalk’s own platform.

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KakaoTalk’s unique use of the word emoticon not only changed the way Korean customers perceive and use the word, it affected other forms of branding. In Korean, you would refer to an Apple emoji keyboard as an emoticon. In the Korean-language setting, Apple even uses the word emoticon to refer to its emoji keyboard. More recently, Apple introduced Animoji and Memoji features in 2017 and 2018 respectively for their own messaging service, iMessage. The names of the newer Animoji and Memoji features (these resemble animated emojis that reflect a user’s facial expressions, mapped and recorded by the front sensors and camera onto an animal’s or human’s face, respectively), have been translated to Animoticon and Memoticon for the Korean market. These examples suggest that the word emoji is losing ground in Korea. The next thing to know about Korean texting is that hangeul (Korean alphabet) characters are also very frequently used as emojis, much like the way ‘xxx’ is used in British to mean kisses. The letters ㅋ, ㅎ, and ㅠ are frequently used in an emoji-like way. ㅋ and ㅎ, which are akin the to k and h sounds in English, are used to reflect laughter, much like hahaha and hehehe in English. ㅠ looks like an eye with tear drops falling from it, and so it used to represent crying. ^^ is commonly used to reflect a smile, as ^^ looks like smiling eyes or eyebrows. ~ is often added to the end of light-hearted messages, much like a smile as well. The combination of these signs creates an amicable atmosphere and empathy between two people texting. In Figure 5.1, you can see how ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ is used to show

Figure 5.1 A screenshot of a chat where ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ is used to show laughter, whilst stickers show other emotions.

Social Media Stylistics 69 laughter instead of stickers. To a learner of the Korean language, these texting conventions would be unfamiliar.

Social Media Endings In Chapter 1, we saw how Korean speech endings can broadly be divided into three levels: -ubnida (honorific), -yo (polite), and the casual form with no -upnida or -yo ending. On social media, however, a whole new variety of endings have emerged. Firstly, it has become common to add an extra consonant to the end of the -bnida and -yo endings, as well as common words.10 These extra consonants tend to be ㅇeung, ㅁ m, and ㅂ b. For example, rather than sending gamsahabnida 감사합니다 (thank you), it is also acceptable to say gamsahabnidang 감사합니당, but only on social media. Some other examples are listed in table 5.1: Table 5.1 Selection of phrases commonly used on social media Phrase

Romanisation

Meaning

Added consonant

넹~ 알겠읍니당 그래욤 넵!

neng algesseubnidang geureyom Neb

Yes Got it Okay Yes

ㅇ ㅇ ㅁ ㅂ

One must be careful when using these additional consonants because they change the feeling of a sentence. In general, adding these consonants make a message sound cute and friendly. They add a nasal sound to the end of a message that serves to soften the end of a sentence as per the concepts of aegyo or kawaii. The eung (ㅇ) consonant can also sound attentive and placatory, meaning that it can be polite as well. In comparison, piup (ㅂ) adds a firmer sound to the end of a phrase. As such, it can be perceived as being either firm and determined or soft and friendly, depending on context. The addition of an exclamation mark or ‘~’ could serve to show the difference. Outside of additional consonants, a new speech style known as – handayo style is becoming widespread and popular in online messaging.11 The use of the – handayo style stems from the process of quickly turning an unconjugated verb into a polite form. For example: (a) Original sentence in polite -yo form: 지금 알바해요. jigeum albahaeyo. I’m working now. (b) – handayo style: 지금 알바한다요 jigeum albahandayo I am working now

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The – handayo style is half-way between banmal and jondaemal. In online messaging, this style makes speech cute, soft, and intimate. It also brings an element of playfulness by violating regular styles. This ending is often also found in the Jella dialect. On social media, the -handayo style sounds fine, but in speech and in formal writing, it is hardly used and is regarded as unnatural and ungrammatical. Another new style is keubsikche 급식체, or school meal style. In the past, very few Korean schools served school meals, and many students took their own lunch to school. As of 2013, however, all schools serve school meals, and 99.6% of students eat school meals every day.12 As such, ‘school meals’ refers to Korean teenagers, and school meal style refers to how they communicate online. Keubsikche is creative. Often, only the first consonant of each word is used to denote common phrases. For example, ㅇㅈ is used to denote injeong 인정 (‘I agree’), and ㅇㅇㅇㅈ is even used to denote eung eung injeong 응응 인정 (‘yes yes I agree’). In other cases, the first syllables of a phrase will be combined into one word. For example, bikachung 버카충 could be used to represent beoseukadeu chungjeon 버스카드 충전 (‘Topping up bus card’). The speech style even has its own grammatical constructions. -haneun kakijyo ~하는 각이죠 has become a common sentence ending used to imply a sense of necessity or high plausibility. Keubsikche is widespread amongst Korea’s students. Of a survey of 7,582 students, 71.8% said that they use keubsikche, and only 1.9% said they don’t use it at all.13 School meal style reminds us that Korean speech styles are dynamic and ever evolving. There is lots of variation in speech styles amongst different age groups and different subcultural groups. This is especially helped along by the internet, where the same grammatical rules do not apply.14 Jondaemal and banmal are just two conventional speech styles out of the array of speech styles that exist in South Korea.

Stickers With Text Thus far, we have looked at written and visual resources separately. Now, let us look at the combination of the two, as found in sticker packs. A sticker is a bespoke image available for use through a particular messaging service, or downloadable for general use through a particular app. Many messaging services provide their own stickers as part of their strategy for brand differentiation. The range of stickers available is immense, and spans all imaginable topics and themes, from cartoon characters and celebrities to faces from paintings by European master painters. These stickers often feature brands or trademarked characters, and some apps, including KakaoTalk, feature a sticker marketplace where creators can sell sticker packs featuring their original characters for real money. Stickers often have no text at all, making them pure visual resources, like emojis. Nonetheless, some stickers do have short lines of text on them. This may be one or two words, or a short sentence. The text is punchy and highly expressive. For such stickers, text and image work in tandem to create and reinforce exactly what meaning the sticker conveys. As such, there is less chance of the meaning being misconstrued. This proves particularly useful when messaging work

Social Media Stylistics 71 colleagues. Korean people are hesitant to use emojis in online formal work chats. When used correctly, stickers and emojis can help to add some fun to a formal conversation, but it is a difficult line to toe. This is where sticker packs can help. There are, in fact, specific sticker packs in Korean instant messaging services that are made for talking in a work setting. Figure 5.2 shows a likeness of a sticker pack entitled ‘Get the essential emoticons for office workers~’.15 It is categorised as being for people in their 30s. The sticker pack is made up of images of celebrities edited in a manga-like manner. The text written playfully on each sticker is highly animated and all of a somewhat jokey style. Messages include: ‘Persevere!!!’, ‘Shall we go for a drink?’, ‘Finally, it’s home time!!’. The nature of these statements show that they would be used by colleagues of a similar status in a humorous manner to relieve stress. In Figure 5.3 and Figure 5.4, we see the likenesses of two sticker packs that could be used by juniors to their seniors. The first is entitled Super Positive Work Life, and the second, A Workers Yes-moticons. As implied by the names, these stickers show cartoon office workers responding to their seniors in a variety of positive ways. Notably, both packs combine images with text including the eung ㅇ and bㅂ endings that we looked at earlier, changing ne 네 (yes) into neng 넹 and neb 넵. The stickers with neb demonstrate that neb may have a snappy and attentive feeling in a work environment. In Figure 5.3, the two employees stand in salute in the 넵 neb sticker.16 In Figure 5.4, however, there is more variation. In one sticker, the employee makes an ‘okay’ symbol with his hands,

Figure 5.2 A likeness of a sticker pack entitled get the essential emoticons for office workers~.

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Figure 5.3 An example of two stickers that are very positive.

Figure 5.4 Examples of three stickers showing a range of emotions.

Social Media Stylistics 73 implying a snappy neb.17 In another, he bends over disheartened, suggesting a weary neb. In another, he makes a heart shape with his arms, invoking the sense of a drawn out, cute neb. In this way, we see just how important images are for changing the meaning of text; an entirely different sentiment can be implied through the presence of a simple image. Text is not to be dismissed however, as it reinforces the sentiment that the image is invoking. In a dual feedback loop, text and image work in harmony to express a clear meaning, allowing the user to choose effectively.

Punctuation Playfulness In online spaces, there are no grammatical rules. As such, punctuation conventions are changed too. Full stops hardly ever appear in the messages of young Koreans, nor do question marks. Though this is not necessarily unique to Korea, it is important to know that full stops can seem serious and rigid in an online conversation. As one sends messages in speech bubbles, it is obvious when one has finished a sentence. Sometimes, young Korean people will send lots of question marks ‘?????’ but this is for emphatic purposes to show confusion, rather than for its standard grammatical function of ending a question. Perhaps more unique to Korean messaging is the trend of ignoring spacing conventions between words. It is common to see whole sentences with no spaces between words on social media. As in many countries, very grammatical writing in online spaces can seem very formal and cold. Playing around with punctuation norms adds style and feeling to cold text.

One Decision, Three Emoticons If, by chance, you are still thinking of emojis and social media language as trivial facets of our everyday communication, then you might be surprised to learn what great importance social media messages can take in court cases. Social media messages are the paper trail of the 21st century. What someone did or did not say offline can be hard to verify, but social media messages are hard evidence, generally speaking. Although how serious social media messages and their emoji content are still needs to be investigated, judges have been known take social media messages into account. For example, politician and ex-presidential candidate Ahn Hee-jung was jailed in 2019 for sexually assaulting his secretary, Kim Ji-eun.18 A lower court had acquitted Ahn in August 2018, but Seoul High Court overturned the ruling, finding Ahn guilty of nine counts of sexual assault. One key piece of evidence that affected the verdicts was online messages sent by Kim to Ahn. In her messages, Kim used emoticons such as ^^, ㅠ, ㅎ, as well as neng 넹 (yes), which Ahn’s lawyers argued expressed affection. The Seoul High Court disregarded this part of Ahn’s defence, stating that such expressions were routinely used in young people’s online messaging, without having any special significance. This was part of the reason why the Seoul High Court overruled the original not guilty verdict.

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Examinations of text messages can also be seen in K-drama Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022). In the tenth episode of the season, Attorney Woo and her team are defending a man accused of sexual assault. As part of his defence, the team put forward a screenshot of a conversation between the plaintiff and defendant to argue that the two were in love (Figure 5.5). The exchange takes place on a made-up social media site, called alkongdalkong 알콩달콩, which can be translated loosely as lovey-dovey. The messages, however, are confusing to the presiding judge. Many abbreviations are used, such as kono 코노 (short for ko’in norebang coin karaoke), ojeochigo 오저치고 (short for oneul jeonyeok chikin go, chicken for dinner tonight), 뜨밤 (short for ddeugeoon bam, hot night). They are so obscure that the judge, a man who looks to be in his 50s or 60s, has to ask what they mean. He also asks what sujubi sujubi 수주비수주비in one of the plaintiff’s messages means, but he says sujebi 수제비 instead, which is a kind of soup. Woo quickly realises that he is referring to sujubi 수주비, which is a play on sujubda 수줍다, meaning to be shy. In her explanation of the term, Woo likens sujubi to the defendants use of bogoshipundaeng 보고시푼뎅 (I miss you) and eonje kkeunayoo 언제끄아요오 (when will you be done?), which both modify the end of a verb too. This scene really serves to demonstrate the significance of social media language, and its independence from offline language forms. Social media has its own emerging forms of speech registers, which are almost unintelligible to those in older generations. However, as online messages are clear written evidence, they will continue to appear in court cases. Therefore, the seriousness of online communication should not be disregarded.

Emoji and Politeness: Case Study19 So having looked at some of the key features of online communication in Korea, you might be wondering how the polite and casual registers that we have looked

Figure 5.5 Screenshots presented as evidence in court in Extraordinary Attorney Woo Youngwoo (2022).

Social Media Stylistics 75 at in the previous chapters translate into online spaces. In this section, we will look at some responses that I received from a group of Korean interviewees. The first issue that we will look at is whether to use emojis when speaking to those of a higher status than you, be that in terms of age or socioeconomic status. In offline communication, respect for older individuals is readily found in gestures, manners of speech, and general demeanour. The body language and nonverbal communication of the online world are the visual resources that we employ, like emojis and stickers. In Korean contexts, stickers and emojis are often seen as a casual form of communication. As such, they are rarely used when communicating with seniors: • • •

•

•

‘I think using emojis is inappropriate when writing to seniors’. ‘I feel that even if a professor talks to me casually with emojis, I should be polite and formal, so I try to stay away from using too many emojis’. ‘Everyone has different standards for being polite and different distances they keep from others. To try to differentiate how to use emojis to one person and not to another one takes effort. It takes too much cognitive effort, so I don’t use emojis to begin with. I also feel that there is a greater risk of misusing emojis when you use them, especially when it comes to people you need to be more polite to, like professors. When communicating with my friends, there is no such risk’. ‘I’m looking at my emojis, and an overreaction rabbit (name of emoji character) is on my recently used list. There’s an emoji that says, “Hahahahaha”, as the rabbit moves back and forth. I don’t think I would use this with seniors because the rabbit is drooling, which can seem rude’. ‘In my opinion, emojis are a sign of intimacy, so I use them a lot in group chats with close people. But I try not to use them, if I can, to people with

Figure 5.6 Examples of emojis suitable to use for older people.

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Figure 5.7 Examples of emojis suitable to use for friends/peers/juniors.

whom I have business relationships or to seniors. I only use emojis such as the bow emoji, to say “thank you” when I feel like my answer is too brief. And these emojis are the default ones that come with Kakao. I just send them occasionally, but I think I rarely use emojis to send messages to the seniors’. Emojis that are large, dynamic, playful, and funny tend to be deemed inappropriate to send to older recipients. Nonetheless, there are certain emojis that are deemed safe to send to those of a higher status. These tend to be small, simple, plain, and static emojis. For example, it would be okay to send KakaoTalk’s default smiley emoji and smiley faces typed using hangeul graphemes, as in Figure 5.6. In comparison, it is fine to use emojis liberally when engaging with speakers of the same or younger age. Many of the most used emojis amongst friends and juniors are funny or cute, as in Figure 5.7. There is a strong relation between participants’ use of honorifics and emojis. Koreans tend towards a reserved use of emojis when addressing someone with whom they use honorifics. If they are speaking casually, however, emoji use is relatively unrestrained: •

•

‘Yes, if I am using casual speech, it would mean that I am close with the person, so I would be able to use any types of emojis, including funny ones, whereas with people using honorifics, I wouldn’t feel comfortable to use those funny emojis – it wouldn’t be polite’. ‘Yes. If someone that I use honorifics to is my age, I feel free to use emojis. But for example, if someone I use honorifics to is older than me, I rarely use

Social Media Stylistics 77 emojis. I think it may be because of the types of emojis that I mostly use. For instance, I only have emojis that look like the kind of dog I raise, and funny and bizarre emojis that I have saved from my friends. For these reasons, I don’t use emojis much’.

Group-Chat Convention Korean group chats with people of different ages or statuses are also a complicated affair. One has to consider what someone older or of a higher seniority might think of their messages, even if the messages are directed to someone in the group chat that is the same age or younger. Being in a group chat, thus, is comparable to being in a public situation: even if you are speaking with a friend of the same age, one might use polite speech, as others are listening. Let us consider a group chat for a teacher and their students. Even if students are talking together on the group chat and their teacher does not even appear to be online, students will use polite speech to talk to each other and mind the emojis that they use because they know that their teacher could see. This is an everyday issue in Korea that English speakers would rarely ever face. Of course, you would not use vulgar language in a class group chat with your teacher, but you would not have to go out of your way to use formal language. Group chats in Korea change the whole tone of a conversation in an exceptional way.

Emojis and Gender Another factor that Korean people take into consideration when texting is gender. Gender plays a major role in forming both relational hierarchies and solidarity in Korea. In the context of online messaging, certain emoji use can create a distance between two speakers of the opposite sex, while it builds bonds between two speakers of the same gender. In most East Asian countries, people tend to be quite reserved about showing affection to the opposite gender and the same remains true in digital context. Emojis used to express affection in cross-gender conversations are relatively restrained in non-romantic relationships. We asked our group of Korean interviewees about how their messaging styles change when talking to someone of the opposite gender: •

•

Female Korean speaker: ‘I would never send a heart shaped emoji to a male senior. I feel that it’s in our tradition to show caution when expressing affection to the opposite gender. We have to be very careful about sending heart related emojis to the opposite gender. For example, I would only send heart emojis to my boyfriend. Whereas I feel that in Western cultures, people are more liberal in saying “I love you” and sending heart shaped emojis. It seems to be a natural part of their culture, so I would feel more comfortable sending those types of emojis to my American friends’. Female Korean speaker: ‘Yeah, I can send heart emojis more easily with people of the same gender, especially if I am closer to them. If I am talking to

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Figure 5.8 A conversation between two women.

Figure 5.9 A conversation between a man and a woman.

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•

my male friends, I would not use heart emojis at all – just in case they misinterpret my intentions’. Male Korean speaker: ‘I wouldn’t worry about my close female friends misinterpreting my intentions for using heart emojis, but I still wouldn’t send affectionate emojis to my female friends just because I wouldn’t feel the need to. I would send funny emoji though’.

The screenshots of KakaoTalk conversations in Figures 5.8 and 5.9 show that, overall, female speakers use more emojis when conversing with another female friend than a male friend. Less use of affectionate emojis were seen in crossgender conversations. As compared with Western cultures, Koreans may be more reserved in showing affection to the other gender. For example, heart emojis tend to be used with caution when a woman is talking to a male recipient. This is because there is a risk of the recipient misinterpreting the intention of the emoji. Even if there was no need to worry about such misinterpretations with close friends, Korean people still tend to feel that there is no need to use an affectionate emoji with opposite gender friends.

Summary Technology has become a crucial part of our lives. We simply can’t live without it. For language learners, this means that learning how to communicate on social media is also crucial. The way we use language online is totally different to how we use it offline. Acquiring competency in emoji speak is just as important as having competency in written and spoken language. In Korea, social hierarchy needs to be translated into one’s messaging practices. One must adapt their use of emojis accordingly, considering the relative status that the receiver(s) of the message have to them. In group chats, this is even more complicated, as you must consider the relationship you have to all the people in the group, even if you are not messaging them in particular. Gender also has an influence, and allowances should be made for cultural differences in this area. Overall, gaining competency in online language is important to help one negotiate Korean society effectively.

Notes 1 Kiaer, Jieun. Emoji Speak: Communication and Behaviours on Social Media. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2023. 2 Kiaer, Jieun, Emine Çakır, and Laurence Mann. Online Language Learning: Tips for Teachers. Cham, Switzerland: Springer International Publishing, 2022. 3 Chan, Joei. “Explained: The Unique Case of Korean Social Media.” Linkfluence, 2022. www.linkfluence.com/blog/the-unique-case-of-korean-social-media. 4 Smith, Oliver. “Mapped: The World According to Internet Connection Speeds.” The Telegraph, 2017. www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/maps-and-graphics/countries-with-fastestinternet-connection-speeds/. 5 Silver, Laura. “Smartphone Ownership Is Growing Rapidly Around the World, But Not Always Equally.” Pew Research Center’s Global Attitudes Project, 2022.

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Social Media Stylistics www.pewresearch.org/global/2019/02/05/smartphone-ownership-is-growing-rapidlyaround-the-world-but-not-always-equally/. Kemp, Simon. 2016. “Digital 2016: Global Digital Overview.” DataReportal. Accessed February 8, 2022. https://datareportal.com/reports/digital-2016-global-digital-overview. Jobst, Nina. “KakaoTalk: Monthly Active Users 2021.” Statista, March 3, 2022. www. statista.com/statistics/746249/south-korea-kakaotalk-monthly-active-users/. “한국인이 가장 많이 사용한 앱은카카오톡, 37억분 사용.” Platum, March 9, 2016. https://platum.kr/archives/56223. Kiaer. Emoji Speak. Han, S. Mobile Instant Messaging in Korean: Linguistic Variations among Patterns, Unpublished Mst Dissertation, University of Oxford, 2017: 27–28. Lee, Jungbok. Sahoicek sothongmang (SNS)uy ene mwunhw yenkwu [A Study on Linguistic Culture Through SNS]. Seoul: Sotong, 2019: 219. Woo, T. “The School Meal System and School-Based Nutrition Education in Korea.” Journal of Nutritional Science and Vitaminology 61, no. Supplement (2015): S23–S24. 장 지훈. “초·중·고교생 71.8％ 평소 ‘급식체’ 쓴다.” 이린이조선일보, 2017. http:// kid.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2017/12/14/2017121402286.html. Kiaer. Emoji Speak. “직장인 필수 이모티콘 받아가세요~ㅎ.” 네이트판, May 28, 2015. https://m.pann. nate.com/talk/327258323. “초긍정직장생활.” KakaoEmoticonShop. Accessed November 18, 2022. https://e. kakao.com/t/super-positive-office-life. “직장인의 넵!모티콘.” KakaoEmoticonShop. Accessed November 18, 2022. https://e. kakao.com/t/always-yes. 송 진원. “안희정에게보낸애교이모티콘 . . . 법원‘의미없는습관적사용.’” 연합 뉴스, 2019. www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20190202032100004. Kiaer and Han. “Multi-modal Endings in Korean Instant Messaging: The Case of Korean Youth.” Presented at the 29th Association of Korean Studies at Europe (AKSE) Conference, Rome, 11–14 April, 2019.

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Koreans use body language, such as nodding and bowing, to show their respect to elders and higher ups. Koreans also use polite words to elders/higher ups. This doesn’t exist or isn’t as common within English language and body language.

The previous statement was a response that I collected from a learner of Korean when I asked about their perception of Korean nonverbal politeness. They mentioned nodding and bowing as a way to show politeness to those older than you and of a higher status. Figure 6.1 shows a drawing that I collected from a participant during a Korean language workshop. On the left side, the Koreanlanguage learner has drawn an image of a typical Western greeting: hugs, kisses, and pleasantries. On the right, the language learner has drawn a Korean-style greeting: one person bowing and looking down, the other standing straight. I am sure you have noticed the same actions in Korean dramas and films as well. To native Korean speakers, nonverbal behaviours have great significance, but as the previous quote notes, English speakers, and many speakers of European languages, will not have the same sensitivity. Just as attitudes towards the hearer are encoded verbally into address terms and endings, there is a constant exchange of nonverbal and gestural behaviours that indicate politeness, respect,

Figure 6.1 A workshop participant’s visual representation of their culture’s greetings vs Korean culture’s greetings.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-7

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intimacy, or rudeness. You might be surprised to learn that making eye contact with an elder or boss is considered rude and provocative in Korea, as in the West, eye contact typically shows that you are listening attentively. Similarly, your posture, the way you sit, the way you pass things, and the way you receive things are all of significance. Table 6.1 displays a range of nonverbal expressions and their significance according to the relationship dynamic. Notably junior can refer to someone of a younger age or lower socioeconomic status. In any workplace or formal setting, socioeconomic status takes precedence over age. From head to toe, every decision that one makes about their nonverbal behaviour in South Korea is akin to talking without words. When genuinely trying to convey politeness, one’s verbal and nonverbal choices should match up. For example, if one were to speak using polite -yo forms, but hold strong eye contact and sit casually, then their politeness would seem insincere. However, were they to sit with their legs together, both feet on the floor, and hands clasped together in their lap, all while avoiding eye contact, then the use of the polite -yo form in their speech would seem genuine. The necessity that both the verbal and nonverbal pragmatic features align in Korean communication is what makes this language so very difficult. Such nonverbal pragmatic features exist throughout a lot

Table 6.1 A selection of common interpersonal pragmatic expressions, both verbal and nonverbal, classified using this upward-downward notion Nonverbal expressions

Appropriate for seniors to juniors or between equals (↓)/Appropriate for juniors to seniors (↑)

Nodding Bowing No bowing or nodding at all Relaxed posture Leaning posture Staring Avoiding eye contact Using two hands to gesture, and pass and receive objects Using one hand to gesture, and pass and receive objects Scratching head Waving Hands clasped in lap Legs crossed when sat Legs together with feet on the floor Touch Head Lowered Unfinished sentences Fewer turns when speaking than the hearer Speaking more than the hearer

↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ↑ ↓ ↑ ↑ ↓ ↑ or ↓ ↓ ↑ ↓ ↑ ↓ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↓

Bodily Speaking 83 of Asian languages, but this is widely unknown in the West, despite large Asian diaspora communities. This is one of the reasons why learning Asian languages is so hard for people whose first language is European. There is no comparable nonverbal system of politeness in the West. Learning the nonverbal aspects of Korean can be difficult in a classroom setting, where interactions are limited to those between student and teacher, and amongst peers. Similarly, textbooks are unable to provide the in situ learning needed for Korean nonverbal behaviours to feel natural. The best way to acquire competence in the nonverbal indicators of politeness is to spend time in Korea. This, of course, is costly and requires a lot of spare time. This is where K-content comes in. By watching K-dramas and K-films, viewers see how actors, directors, and scriptwriters believe a character should behave depending on whether they are trying to be either polite, rude, or intimate. In seeing these depictions, viewers begin to learn conventional Korean (im)politeness in an embodied way. They learn subconsciously, picking up the significance of different nonverbal signs without being explicitly told by a teacher or textbook. Simultaneously, they learn which nonverbal signs should be used in which contexts. K-viewers watch different interactions between people of a variety of different relative statuses. They see a range of nonverbal behaviours carried out by characters of a range of different genders, age groups, occupations, and personality types. Though this nonverbal behaviour goes untranslated, Korean learners will naturally pick up how characters act nonverbally and in what situations with very little conscious effort. In the linguistics field, nonverbal behaviour is often overlooked. In many Asian languages, the nonverbal is far more important and complex than in Western societies. With Korean-pop-culture content gaining more and more popularity in the West, it is important to increase understanding of what Asian gestures mean. Western viewers notice characters bowing and nodding in K-dramas and K-films, but they don’t always know the real significance of such gestures and how they have nuanced meanings. Communication goes beyond letter words in both our online and offline worlds. It is important to be aware of both the verbal and nonverbal to truly understand Korean and other Asian languages. In the following section, we will look at some examples of nonverbal behaviour in Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019) and The Housemaid (2010) to explore this topic in further depth.

Eye Contact In Korean communication, making direct eye contact can be confrontational, especially if it is maintained over an extended period of time. As such, eye contact is generally a casual expression. Juniors will often avoid or break eye contact momentarily in order to avoid conflict. Avoiding or breaking direct eye contact is a respectful expression, showing humility and submissiveness. For instance, Figure 6.2 shows an example from Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019), in which the protagonist Ji-young avoids eye contact with her mother-in-law, as

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Figure 6.2 Ji-young (left) avoids eye contact with her mother-in-law (centre) to show respect and submissiveness, and thus that she knows her place within the family unit, in Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019).

Figure 6.3 Eun-yi with lowered head, indirect eye gaze, and compact posture when speaking to her new employer Mr Goh for the first time, in The Housemaid (2010).

a submissive expression. Similarly, in The Housemaid (2010), the Goh family’s new housemaid, Eun-yi, averts her eyes frequently when speaking to Mr Goh, while he maintains direct eye contact (Figures 6.3 and 6.4). Mr Goh slouches back casually, assuming a position that is both extremely casual and also extremely male. Men and women are subject to different expectations in South Korea, and women’s nonverbal behaviour is often expected to remain respectful, even when

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Figure 6.4 Mr Goh with raised head, direct eye gaze, and broad posture on his first meeting with Eun-yi, in The Housemaid (2010).

Figure 6.5 Miss Cho with lowered head, indirect eye gaze, and compact posture, when expressing shame and apology to Eun-yi, in The Housemaid (2010).

they are in a position of power.1 Mr Goh’s position in Figure 6.4 would rarely ever be seen on a woman. When seniors are remorseful, however, they may also lower their eyes. In the scene, shown in Figure 6.5, Miss Cho is apologising to Eun-yi. Miss Cho is a generation older than Eun-yi, and normally would be able to make direct eye contact without it being rude, however, because Miss Cho is in the wrong, she shows her shame by averting her eyes. Hierarchy is not the only factor to consider. Even between strangers of the same age, maintaining eye contact is a ↓ expression. In the scene in the featured still (Figure 6.6) from Kim Ji-young: Born 1982, a stranger of a similar age to

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Figure 6.6 A rude stranger makes direct, prolonged eye contact when behaving confrontationally to protagonist Ji-young, Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019).

Ji-young makes rude comments about Ji-young when she drops a coffee in the café, calling her names. Ji-young confronts him, and the man maintains eye contact with Ji-young throughout the confrontation. Even though he does not know how old Ji-young is, or the relative status between him, he uses casual body language. This characterises him as aggressive and rude.

Bowing We have all seen bowing in K-dramas and K-films, but what you might not know is that there are a wide variety of bows from which to choose that are selected according to the social dynamic and environment. 15-degree, 30-degree, and 45-degree bows are the most common bows in daily life in Korea.2 The deeper the bow the more respectful that it is. Smaller bows are more appropriate for seniors to use to juniors or between equals. There are also different types of bowing. There are bows for formal and ritual occasions. The baekkeobinsa 배꼽인사, or ‘belly-button bow’, in which the hands are clasped together at the navel while bowing, is used in formal situations and to bow to elders. Bowing on one’s knees, known as sebae 세배 (ritual bow) or keunjeol 큰절 (big bow), is reserved for traditional holidays, such as seollal 설날 (Korean New Year), and ceremonies, such as jesa 제사, when Koreans memorialise their ancestors. Bowing etiquette is far more extensive and intricate than even this selection of examples suggest. In Korea, regardless of the type or degree of bow, there are also fundamental rules for how bowing in general must be carried out. Firstly, Koreans expect a verbal expression to accompany a bow, as silence while

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Figure 6.7 Miss Cho the housekeeper bows at 45 degrees when saying goodbye to Mr Goh as he leaves for work in the morning, in The Housemaid (2010).

bowing is considered rude, unless it is required at the location (e.g., at a library). Bowing often accompanies expressions such as annyeonghaseyo 안녕하세요 (hello), joesonghamnida 죄송합니다 (sorry), and algesseumnida 알겠습니다 (understood/consider it done).3 Bowing must also be conducted with both parties standing at the same ground level, as bowing downwards to someone from above is not acceptable (e.g., bowing while at the top of the stairs to someone standing at the bottom of the stairs). Eye contact should never be maintained while bowing, and arms should not be left to hang loosely, but be kept neatly in whichever position required for the bow. Bowing should also only be conducted while standing still. Whether one should bow at all is also something to consider. In the scene in Figure 6.7 from The Housemaid (2010), who bows and who does not is an important indicator of intimacy and distance and the employer-employee relation. In the scene, household staff bow to Mr Goh as he leaves to go to work, while Mrs Goh and the Gohs’ daughter do not bow at all because of their intimate relationship with Mr Goh. A clear distinction is shown here between intimates and nonintimates, and one that is especially relevant in the relationship between employer and employee. Also, if one does bow in a particular social dynamic, such as Miss Cho to Mr Goh, the situational context can also affect how the bow is conducted, and it is worth demonstrating this in order to show not only the factors involved in making these decisions, but how one adapts their nonverbal expressions. In Figure 6.7, Miss Cho bows to Mr Goh as he leaves for work. Because his leaving of the house is almost a daily ceremony in Korea, in which he is always greeted and bid farewell by all the members of the household standing at the door, Miss Cho honours this moment with a 45-degree bow. However, within the household, Miss Cho employs a 15-degree bow or slow nod when given an instruction (Figure 6.8). Despite her elderly age, she performs the gesture to respect her employer.

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Figure 6.8 Miss Cho bows 15 degrees to Mr Goh when the situation is less formal than the morning farewell in The Housemaid (2010).

Since there is less formality in the privacy of the home, there is no need for a deeper bow.

Nodding Nodding can be considered similar to bowing. It is a step below a 15-degree bow. Showing the top of one’s head traditionally puts one in a vulnerable position, and as such, it is also a sign of submission. Nodding can also be used to indicate attention when someone is speaking. When listening to someone of a higher status, the listener will often nod diligently at appropriate moments to show that they are attentive and receptive to what the speaker is saying.

Posture Slightly leaning forward and making one’s posture compact to minimise one’s physical presence in the space would typically be carried out by the junior in an interaction. This is an expression of respect, deference, subordination, and even humiliation – the latter of which is more likely when employed by a senior (Figures 6.2 and 6.3). Standing or sitting up straight and broadening one’s posture, that is to say maximising one’s physical presence in the space, implies seniority. The space that we consume is expressive of one’s social status, or our opinion of our own status, and our opinion of others’ who are present.

Scratching One’s Head Scratching one’s head means something entirely different in Korean communication as compared to what it means to English speakers. There are two

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Figure 6.9 Mr Pak scratches head when confronting Mr Kim in Parasite (2019).

predominant uses of the gesture. The first is as a senior to junior expression, which can express anger or irritation, or discomfort with something that is happening, much like direct eye contact. The expression of negative feelings can be achieved through this gesture when used by both seniors and juniors, though the expression would be especially strong if used by a junior, or in a social dynamic where there are conflicting hierarchies. Figure 6.9 shows a still from Parasite (2019). In this scene, Mr Pak finally confronts Mr Kim about how he has been acting unacceptably. It is only at this time, when losing his temper, and confronting Mr Kim, that he scratches his head. Sometimes, however, scratching one’s head can be a junior-to-senior expression used to gently get someone’s attention. Thus, interpreting a scratch of the head is dependent on the context.

Silence Silence in Korean can have a multitude of significances. Speaking less can show someone’s juniority in the social dynamic. Speaking more and taking long and frequent speaking turns is a privilege afforded only to seniors. Silence can show that one knows one’s place as a junior. Silence can also be an indicator that something is wrong, that someone is insulted or upset, because expressing emotion directly in Korean is avoided. In Figure 6.9, Mr Pak begins the confrontation with a silence, accompanied by a prolonged blink of his eyes. This is in fact the second time in the film that, following one of Mr Kim’s unfavourable behaviours (the earlier occasion was when he used profanity while driving), Mr Pak was silent for a moment before proceeding, though on the former occasion he chose to ignore Mr Kim’s behaviour and move on. Silence may also be employed as a consideration to the other person. This is the case when there is a conflicting hierarchy, so it is politer to avoid speaking than to attempt to negotiate (such as between an employer and their older employee).

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Nonverbal Expressions in Orchestration The combination of bodily speech with verbal speech is no simple matter when communicating in Korean. It isn’t only a matter of being concise in what one is saying, one must also understand how misalignment can imply a diverse range of meanings that are on top of what is being said. Returning to Figure 6.4, which shows Mr Goh meeting his new housemaid Eun-yi for the first time, his nonverbal expressions are misaligned with his verbal ones. Mr Goh’s nonverbal expressions, as mentioned earlier, are those of a senior, which he is. However, when he speaks, he uses polite speech. One could argue that since it is a first meeting, it is a formal occasion, so he should speak more politely regardless of Eun-yi’s status. However, if this was the case, then his nonverbal gestures would not be as comfortable as they are. In particular, his posture is incredibly informal, as he is practically laying down. As we go on to find out through the course of the film, both he and his wife generally use polite speech. The reason for this is then explained when their daughter tells Eun-yi that her parents have taught her to always speak politely to employees: her father told her that it may seem like politeness, but it is actually a way for them to put themselves first. In other words, he says that speaking down to people is simply less effective in motivating them. Thus, in this case there is a complete misalignment, which characterises the Goh family as insincere and self-serving. An example of temporary misalignment – a misalignment used for a particular sentence that creates a layer of meaning – can be found in the film Friend (2001). In one scene, two childhood friends, Dong-su and Joon-seok, who as adults belong to opposing gangs, meet to discuss the murder of one of the men’s gang members, Doruko. Dong-su and his gang members are guilty of the murder, and Joon-seok knows this, so he purposely asks Dong-su why he didn’t attend Doruko’s funeral. Dong-su has been speaking informally throughout the meeting until this point. His nonverbal gestures also have been consistently casual, with broad posture, direct eye gaze, and his head raised high confrontationally (Figure 6.10). When Dong-su lies about why he did not attend, he switches to polite speech, although his gestures remain casual. Doing so is insincere and even sarcastic.

Moving Away from the Generalisation of East Asian Gestures Though I spoke earlier of the vast differences between Western and Asian gestures, my intention is not to suggest that all Asian cultures employ the same gestures. Even amongst East Asian languages, which one might expect to be culturally similar, there are significant cross-cultural differences in the meanings of gestures.4 Kiaer, Lo, and Kim (forthcoming) argue that ‘de-generalisation is vital for developing current knowledge of Asian expressions’. Let us take bowing as an example. In Asia, bowing etiquette is diverse, and bowing has a vast range of meanings that differ from culture to culture. Commonly,

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Figure 6.10 Dong-su’s casual body language in Friend (2001).

bowing is recognised as a way of respectfully greeting or saying goodbye to someone, or to apologise, show gratitude, directly express respect (e.g., in ceremonies), or as an expression of worship and veneration in some religions. Forms of bowing also vary. In Indonesia, bowing is limited to the lowering of the head. In Korea, bows range from a nod of the head to bows from the waist at varying degrees. There are bows that are performed reciprocally by two or more people, while others require one person to perform one form or degree of bow and the other person another form or degree (e.g., a junior bowing at a higher degree, while a senior bowing at a lower degree). In Japan, the bow, which the Japanese call the ojigi, is an obeisance that was first practiced exclusively among the nobility, beginning sometime during the Asuka and Nara periods (538–794 AD), after its introduction to Japan through Chinese Buddhism. Ojigi is performed either standing or kneeling on the floor, depending on the situation, and in contemporary Japan, it is used by everyone. It is a mandatory expression, like in Korea, that serves a wide range of meaningful functions in everyday life – from greetings, introductions, and saying goodbye, to expressing gratitude, showing respect, asking for goodwill, commencing business, expressing congratulations, for asking a favour, and even for praying to the gods. Like in Korea, in Japan, nodding, and degrees of bowing, such as 90-, 15-, 30-, and 45-degree bows, are all common expressions. Nonetheless, there are still considerable differences in bowing etiquette and there is much room for miscommunication, should elements of either culture’s etiquette be used in the other’s system of communication. In Japan, for instance, men place their hands in front of their knees and women place their hands together

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in their lap to show respect when bowing as a standard. While in Korea bows like the baekkeobinsa 배꼽인사, in which the hands are clasped together at the position of the navel while bowing, are used less frequently, and are restricted to more formal situations and to bow to elders. The Chinese bow also involves the hands, but it entails making a fist with the right hand and holding it in the palm of the left at stomach level before bowing, with the depth depending on the level of respect being conveyed. Nowadays, people often only lean slightly or nod instead, and reserve this form of bowing only for honouring elders at formal occasions and traditional holidays. It would be highly unlikely to see any bow at all in China during a regular day. In Japan, if a greeting takes place on tatami mats, then it is performed on the knees. In Korea, however, there is no custom for bowing in this manner due to the flooring. Instead, bowing on one’s knees is reserved only for traditional bows, such as sebae or keunjeol, during ceremonies on traditional holidays. In China, the kowtow (叩头 or 磕头), which is similar to the keunjeol, is an expression of deep respect. Unlike Korea, it is hardly ever used, except perhaps for honouring the graves of ancestors. Overall, the frequency of bows is most common in Korea, then Japan, and then China. The repercussions of not bowing properly are significantly more severe in Korea, then Japan, whilst in China, there would be no repercussions. When it comes to the etiquette of gesture, even in nearby regions, what seems like subtle cross-cultural variations are actually quite severe differences in etiquette. Incorrect etiquette could make one’s bow inappropriate for the cultural context, and the implications of this miscommunication can be serious. As Kiaer and Kim (2021) stress, ‘an inappropriately respectful bow can come across as insincere or sarcastic, while a bow that is too casual will be considered rude’.5 Thus, generalisation, such as simply bowing because it is common knowledge that people bow in East Asia, is simply not enough.

Summary Just as one has to attune their verbal behaviour to the context of an interaction, one must also attune their nonverbal behaviour. Though often overlooked, nonverbal behaviour informs so much of a Korean’s perception of a person. Initial visual scanning takes in much of how a person looks, and this does not just mean how they are dressed. Once an interaction has started, nonverbal behaviour informs the listener of what the speaker thinks of them just as much as their verbal behaviour does. Just like Korean people adapt their emojis to appease who they are messaging in online spaces, Korean people adapt their nonverbal behaviour to appease who they are speaking to in real life. When people talk about the ‘untranslatables’ of Korean content, it is not only the verbal aspect of communication that they mean. Subtitles have no way of highlighting the significance of the gestures, postures, and other nonverbal actions of the characters that we see on our screens. Those unfamiliar with Korean culture will totally miss the significance and nuance of characters’ nonverbal behaviour,

Bodily Speaking 93 and what is more, they would not be able to discern when there is a discrepancy between the respectfulness of a character’s verbal and nonverbal behaviour. Knowledge of this aspect of Korean communication enriches the experience of watching K-content.

Linguist’s Corner In the linguistics field as a whole, there is a tendency to focus on the verbal elements of all languages. Even where there are studies of gesture and other nonverbal behaviours, study of them in Asian languages has been relatively limited. Kendon (1988) explains how words have to follow a standard set of rules according to syntactic norms, whereas gesture can be used in a much more general and less regulated sense.6 McNeill (1992) agrees that gestures are fundamentally different from language, for similar reasons to those presented by Kendon.7 Wharton (2009) addresses many of the previously mentioned descriptions of gesture in relation to language. He seems to refute the claim that gesture is not communicative, stating that it can be as long as it is both salient and relevant.8 Vangelisti and Knapp (1996) describe nonverbal communication in terms of communicating intimacy and dominance, assuming that showing dominance rather than subordinance in social situations is always desirable.9 While this may be true in a Western context, East Asian culture often requires interlocutors to take a position of deference, which is different from both dominance and subordination. For interlocutors in an East Asian context, nonverbally communicating deference is often an important face-saving act.10 In a Korean context specifically, deferential gesture is used almost inseparably from the honorific system, making it an essential part of pragmatics in any Korean interaction. Some of the main features of the deferentialgesture system include bowing, nodding, posture, and gaze, among others. Though these gestures are certainly not defined or standardised, they virtually always accompany honorific and deferential interactions to the extent that their absence may undermine the honorific function of verbal honorifics. To learners of Korean and other Asian languages, the presence of these gestural honorifics may pose challenges in becoming pragmatically effective communicators.

Notes 1 Kiaer, Jieun, and Jiyoung Shin. A Linguistic Image of Womanhood in South Korea. Abingdon: Routledge, 2022. 2 Kiaer and Kim, Understanding Korean Film. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid., 131. 6 Kendon, A. How Gestures Can Become Like Words. Chicago: Hogrefe & Huber Publishers, 1988: 132.

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7 McNeill, David. “Guide to Gesture Classification, Transcription, and Distribution.” In Hand and Mind: What Gestures Reveal about Thought (pp. 75–104), 1992. 8 Wharton, Tim. Pragmatics and Non-Verbal Communication. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. 9 Vangelisti, Anita L., and Mark L. Knapp. Interpersonal Communication and Human Relationships. Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1996: 448–456. 10 Levinson, Stephen C., and Penelope Brown. Politeness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987.

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Let us now take a more detailed look at the most casual speech style in Korean, banmal 반말. Banmal can be literally translated into English as half talk. It is a register used by those who are very close and of the same age or family in private situations. Sometimes, those who are elderly and those who are in very high positions of socioeconomic status may use banmal to those who are their juniors, too. It is important to note that though banmal is different to jondaemal, that does not necessarily mean that banmal is a rude or disrespectful speech style. When used in the correct situations, banmal is a casual and friendly way of communicating that builds solidarity between its users because speakers can relax. If used in the wrong situation, banmal can be rude, of course, but the honorific style can also be rude if used in the wrong context. In this way, banmal is a bit like wearing a slouchy, comfortable outfit. You wouldn’t wear the outfit in front of people you weren’t close with, and you certainly wouldn’t wear it in a workplace situation, unless you were very secure in your position. Even if two people always use banmal when they are alone, they may switch to polite speech if someone they are not close with joins the interaction. For example, if I were talking with a close friend using banmal and then a colleague came and joined us, I would switch to speaking in the polite register to both my friend and my colleague. Similarly, if a family were talking casually and then a neighbour came over, the whole family would switch to using polite speech. This even happens in online group chats. If there were a class group chat with a teacher in it, the students would talk politely to each other, even if the teacher was not involved in the conversation. Public vs private situations greatly influence one’s choice of speech register. In a familial setting, however, one might hear a range of different speech levels. I always remember that my own mother had to use three speech levels one after the other at times in our household. When my mother-in-law had come over for a family meal, she would first tell her that dinner was ready, saying, jinjideuseyo 진지드세요 (please eat), which is an entirely honorific phrase. Then, she would call my father: siksahaseyo 식사하세요 (please eat) in a polite and considerate tone. Finally, she would call me: bab meokeo 밥 먹어 (food’s up) using banmal. As you can see, Korean speech styles are not always the most efficient, but there was nothing that my mother could do. There is no one-size-fits-all speech register. DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-8

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Age Matters Age is never just a number in Korean society. Every interaction that takes place happens on the basis of knowing the other party’s age. Unlike in Western societies, it is not rude to ask someone’s age in Korean, be that by asking directly, asking about the year of which animal they were born in, or which year they started school/university. Age matters so much that children are taught to ask the age of any other children that they meet, so much so that they may ask how old another child is before asking their name. A year’s age difference might not seem like much in Western societies, but in Korea, it is enough to merit a whole different style of interaction and different considerations of respect, even if, say, one person was born 31 December 1990 and the other 1 January 1991. Koreans would acknowledge that one day’s difference isn’t much, but they would argue that the correct address terms and speech styles need to be maintained for the overall order.

Not Your Average Friend You might be thinking that banmal is the speech register that you would use with friends – well you may need to think again. Chingu 친구 is often translated as ‘friend’ in English, but what it really means is ‘same-age friend’. The idea that you can use banmal with a chingu actually means that you can use banmal with someone of the same age, if you are close enough to call yourselves friends. The importance of being the same age is so pronounced in Korea that even twins have older- and younger-sibling status, with it being common for the younger to call their older twin hyung, nuna, eonni, or oppa. This is not to say that people of different ages never use banmal together; if the right negotiations have taken place, then there will be no problem. It is, however, crucial to know that just being ‘friends’ in the Western concept of the word is not enough to allow for the use of banmal. In the West, a ‘friend’ is simply someone that you are close to, but to whom you have no familial relation. In Korea, it is about maintaining societal order.

Banmal in K-media If an intimate relationship or the conditions for developing one exist, this reduces the need or desire for respect, and instead produces the need and desire for expressing closeness in order to reach the communicative goals of the social relations at play. Under this condition, banmal transforms from a means of taking respect into the giving of intimacy. Whether banmal is being used between parents and children, friends, or two people becoming closer (e.g., new friends or in a budding romantic relationship), using banmal in these social contexts is usually a positive act. This is shown in how Korean inner monologues, featured in films, are generally spoken in banmal, because one can speak intimately with oneself. The only time intimates will usually change to polite speech is when one is being sarcastic or joking by artificially elevating the other person’s status

Privately Speaking 97 through language, or because they are in the presence of others. For example, in Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019), Ji-young and her husband speak in banmal when they are alone, but when they visit his family, Ji-young speaks to her husband in polite speech in front of them. By respecting him in front of his family, she is keeping up appearances – wearing the outfit of the idealised Korean wife, and in doing so also wearing the outfit of the perfect Korean daughter-in-law. In Parasite (2019), we can observe a similar use of banmal between Mr and Mrs Kim. They speak banmal to each other when they are alone, or in only the presence of their children, however they often speak in polite speech in front of others. What this ultimately shows is that Koreans, when they are most at ease and comfortable, speak in banmal. When two people fight, the choice to use banmal is not to be intimate but rather to be disrespectful in order to insult the other person. The primary difference to speaking English is that when you speak comfortably with someone who you shouldn’t in Korean, it doesn’t merely feel awkward, it is more like swearing, which is why switching from speaking formally to speaking comfortably can be difficult. When they wish to increase intimacy with their fellow interlocutor, many people will test the water by inserting a little banmal while speaking in polite or formal styles, and see what kind of response they get before proceeding further.

More Than an Ending Banmal isn’t as simple as grammar books suggest. Often banmal and jondaemal are spoken about in respect to the end of sentences, primarily focussing on whether to add -yo onto the end of a sentence. However, jondaemal and banmal divides are much more complex than this, as every single word carries the property of being ↓ or ↑, and so banmal affects word choice from the start to the end of each sentence. Further, as previously mentioned, mixing styles can appear insincere, so the goal should be to be consistent unless for a particular purpose (e.g., sarcasm). In this respect, selecting any verbal, or nonverbal, expressions is a matter of choosing banmal or jondaemal. In the following example, the same phrase will be presented in banmal and jondaemal, with its English translation beneath (reflecting the respect level of each style), following which the sentences will be broken down from start to finish. The breakdown will demonstrate how banmal is a choice that is made from the start to the end of the sentence, and can be simply applied to Korean sentences in general. Banmal sentence Eo, naega geugeol julge. 어, 내가 그걸 줄게. Yeah, I’ll give it to you.

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Jondaemal sentence Ne, jega geugeol deurilgeyo. 네, 제가 그걸 드릴게요. Yes, I will give that to you. Each sentence begins with an interjection, and both are different. The banmal sentence begins with the informal eo 어, which is similar to ‘yeah’ or even ‘mmm’ in English – while the jondaemal sentence begins with the respectful ne 네, which is the equivalent to ‘yes’ in English. The second word in each sentence is the first-person pronoun, and this is different in each sentence too. In the banmal sentence, the informal nae 내 is used. While in the jondaemal sentence, the humble je 제 is used. The third word geugeol 그걸 (that) is the same in both sentences. Then, the final, fourth word is different again. In the banmal sentence, julge 줄게 is used for ‘will give’. There is no politeness marker -yo 요 added to the end. In the jondaemal sentence, the word deurilgeyo 드릴게요 is used. This is an honorific version of the verb ‘to give’, conjugated into future tense with a polite -yo added to the end. An interesting example of the shift to comfortably speaking that takes place, and how this affects sentences beyond simply the endings, is shown in Parasite (2019). In the film, Ki-woo and the Pak’s daughter, Da-hye, begin by having a typical seniorjunior relationship. Ki-woo is her tutor and older, so he is senior, and Da-hye has higher socioeconomic status due to her parents’ wealth, but this does not make her senior because the two forms of seniority that Ki-woo holds outweigh hers. Therefore, during their first class, Da-hye speaks to Ki-woo in jondaemal. When Ki-woo asks her a question, she responds with a polite ne 네. She also uses turn taking in speech to express her juniority, by speaking less often and giving short answers. This use of silence aligns with jondaemal, whereas Ki-woo speaks in banmal and takes longer speaking turns, and speaks more often. However, when the two begin a secret romantic relationship, like married couples in the earlier examples given in this chapter, when alone the two speak to each other entirely in banmal.

The Other Side of the Coin Though banmal can be a very friendly and casual way of speaking that emphasises the closeness between speakers, it can also take on an offensive tone when used in the wrong contexts. When Korean people argue, they always switch to banmal. The polite pretences of jondaemal simply cannot portray anger properly. Using banmal, Korean people can say what they really mean, especially when they are annoyed. It is for this reason that it can be offensive to use banmal at the wrong time. Banmal gives the sense that the speaker is belittling the hearer. Using banmal inappropriately can even lead to physical fights. A Sketch Engine search of the word banmal shows the most common terms that are used alongside banmal in a corpus of internet texts made up of over a billion words.1 Figure 7.1 shows the results. The more frequently that a word appears, the bigger it appears on the graph. One of the biggest words on the graph

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Figure 7.1 A Sketch Engine search of the word banmal in the Korean Corpus 2018.

is yokseol 욕설, meaning swear words. Other related words include makmal 막말 (rude words), pokeon 폭언 (rude words), murye 무례 (impolite words), nongdam 농담 (jokes), jorong 조롱 (ridicule). As you can see, these words are far from having positive connotations. This illustrates the other side of banmal, which divides rather than unites.

Banmal in the Workplace Banmal in the workplace poses an interesting problem. Bosses tend to speak in banmal to their younger employees, as they feel their higher status grants them that freedom. The line between banmal and bullying can, at times, be hard to distinguish. In 2021, the Workplace Harassment Act was updated to crack down on bosses taking advantage of Korea’s hierarchical society to exploit their workers. The article specifies that workplace harassment involves ‘taking advantage of superiority’, ‘beyond the appropriate scope of work’, ‘causing physical or mental suffering to other employees or deteriorating the work environment’.2 The update has called into question whether banmal is appropriate for the workplace or not. In a survey carried out by Joseon Daily, 7 in 10 people responded that banmal is used in their workplace. 65% stated that their boss used banmal to their juniors,

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57% stated that older employees spoke banmal to younger employees, 56% stated that employees who are personally close spoke banmal together, and 53% stated that banmal was used between same-age employees. Opinions about bosses speaking banmal to their juniors varied. The majority of respondents said they did not care about their boss using banmal, 57.4% of men, and 46.6% of women. However, 45.2% of women responded that they dislike their boss using banmal because it feels rude. In comparison, only 29.9% of men gave the same response. 12.7% of men and 8.1% of women responded that they liked it when their bosses spoke in banmal as it made them feel close. Overall, there was a general consensus (81%) that respondents would rather all office workers use jondaemal regardless of their rank or age when in the workplace. Assuming that someone is younger than you and using banmal to them can also be a source of embarrassment and conflict. This happened in an episode of Same Bed, Different Dreams (동상이몽, 괜찮아 괜찮아 Dongsangimong, gwaenchanha gwaenchanha), season 2, which centres around the lives of celebrity couples.3 One scene featured South Korean singer-songwriter and actor, Im Changjung, rehearsing for a musical with the musical director of the show. Im behaves very casually during the scene using a mix of banmal and jondaemal until Musical Director Kim says: ‘Changjung-ssi, do you know how old I am? Why are you using banmal?’ Im chuckles good-naturedly and replies, ‘Me? What did I say? But you look younger than me?’ The pair then proceed to discuss which year they were born in, Kim says she was born in the Year of the Pig, which would make her either one year older than Im or 11 years younger than him. She eventually tells Im that she is 52, one year older than Im. Im goes over to her and apologises, bowing deeply (Figure 7.2). The conversation is light-hearted and joking overall, with Kim saying she was flattered to seem younger than her age. Nonetheless, Im was embarrassed and Kim was certainly unhappy at first.

Figure 7.2 Im Changjung bows deeply to apologise to the musical director.

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The Difficulty of Being a Younger Boss The only time that someone of a younger age might use banmal to someone older than them is when they are a senior in a workplace situation. In such a situation, banmal has no other significance than reflecting hierarchical positions. In fact, this presents a new social context in which a senior using jondaemal would even appear exaggerated or sarcastic. This does not mean, however, that there will not be some awkwardness when age and socioeconomic hierarchies come into opposition. We see this in Parasite (2019), where Mr Kim is younger than his employers, the Paks. As such, he is constantly on the edge of conflict with them. This occurs because of Mr Kim’s age seniority, which leads him to believe that he has the right to push for solidarity in certain moments, such as making personal comments about Mr Pak’s feelings towards his wife. Because of Mr Pak’s positional seniority as Mr Kim’s employer, and his high socioeconomic status, he feels he has the right to demand subservience with strict boundaries that his employees should not cross, regardless of what he asks of them. The final occasion, of course, is when the Paks request that the Kim family work during the weekend, at an impromptu birthday party for Da-song. All the Kims are inconvenienced, with the Paks having little empathy. However, Mr Kim suffers the most. He is shown following behind Mrs Pak as she shops. First, he pushes her trolley, while she saunters down the aisles of a luxury grocery shop, selecting the finest foods, all the time talking on the telephone to her potential guests about her party (Figure 7.3). A similar scene plays out in the wine shop, with Mr Kim following behind Mrs Pak holding a box that Mrs Pak is filling with wine, while continuing to talk on the phone (Figure 7.4). Mr Kim appears a mere prop, dehumanised entirely. When Mr Kim is driving Mrs Pak home, the camera slides to the side to reveal Mr Kim’s infuriated expressions, as while doing so, Mrs Kim puts her bare feet up on the headrest beside him (Figure 7.5) This demonstrates pure disrespect in how she disregards his age entirely, because of how low she feels his status is.

Figure 7.3 Mr Kim follows behind Mrs Pak with the trolley in the supermarket, in Parasite (2019).

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Figure 7.4 Mr Kim follows behind Mrs Pak with a box as she chooses wine, in Parasite (2019).

Figure 7.5 Mr Kim is silently furious as Mrs Pak places her bare feet upon the headrest next to his in the car, in Parasite (2019).

When he returns to the house, Mr Pak expects Mr Kim to perform with him in a Native American skit in front of the guests at the birthday party, which would be degrading for someone of his age and experience. When Mr Kim tries to create solidarity in the moment by pointing out that Mr Pak being is good husband, Mr Pak directly rejects this negotiation, even reminding Mr Kim that he is being paid to be there (Figure 7.6).

Gapjil Although a senior in a workplace setting using banmal will not often cause problems, there are incidents where seniors take it too far. Their use of banmal can become demeaning, rude, and entitled in severe cases. The most shocking cases make it onto the news. This phenomenon has gained so much attention that a neologism was coined to describe it: gapjil 갑질. Gapjil is a combination of gap 갑 meaning

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Figure 7.6 Mr Kim and Mr Pak engage in their final tug-of-war, and in the scene that follows Mr Pak is murdered by Mr Kim, in Parasite (2019).

‘employer’ and jil 질, which is a suffix added to demonstrate a negative action. This is such a common problem that changes to the Korean Labour Standards Act were made in 2019 to combat the issue. The updated act prohibited ‘acts of an employer or employee that causes physical or mental suffering or worsens the working environment of another employee by taking advantage of his or her status or relationship within the workplace beyond the appropriate scope of work’.4 The changes meant that employers are required to investigate workplace harassment, whilst allowing the victim a change of workplace or paid leave.5 If a workplace-harassment case is confirmed, then they must take appropriate action against the perpetrator.6 Employers can face penalties for failure to investigate properly. This is a very important update in the plight to make Korean hierarchies more fair. One of the most famous gapjil incidents, known as the ‘nut rage’ incident, took place in 2014. This happened when Heather Cho, former Vice President of Korean Air and daughter of Korean Air’s CEO, raged at a flight attendant for serving her macadamia nuts in a bag instead of a porcelain bowl.7 She demanded that the plane return to its gate so that the flight attendant could be removed. This abuse of power over such a minor issue sparked outrage amongst Koreans. Heather Cho was sentenced to one year in prison for violating aviation law. The flight attendant took Cho and Korean Air to court, asking for 400 million won. It was ruled that Korean Air should pay the attendant 30 million won as compensation and a further 30 million won for trying to coerce him into dropping the case.8 Since, Heather Cho and her sister, Emily, have both been let go by Korean Air – Emily Cho too had a gapjil scandal, when she threw water in the face of an advertising executive.

Banmal Inefficiency As you may be coming to realise, banmal can be the cause of a lot of problems. The existence of banmal and jondaemal ends up creating a lot of barriers in

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communication, meaning that people are not able to speak freely. Although it means transparency in the speaker’s attitude towards the hearer(s), it can often do more harm than good. The effort exerted to decide which address terms and speech registers to use can often mean that speakers never get to the point of fruitful discussion because they are so caught up in the formalities. This is true even in the Korean National Assembly. Politicians have often got into arguments over use of banmal, often forgetting the topic at hand. For example, an argument broke out at the Planning and Finance Committee held on 20 August 2020, when Kim Taeheum criticised the Democratic Party.9 As he was speaking, a member of the Democratic Party shouted in banmal, ‘Are you really speaking so carelessly?’ and ‘Watch what you say’. Kim Taeheum likewise responded in banmal, saying, ‘Watch what you say! You really are shameless’. The chairman asked the two to respect each other, but the pair continued arguing, with Kim Taehum exclaiming in banmal, ‘You want to speak like that?! As someone younger?!’As you can see, the argument centred around how the two were speaking to each other, rather than about whether the criticism of the Democratic Party was fair or not. As such, the whole altercation was superfluous and unproductive. This is an archetypal example of the inefficiency caused by the existence of banmal and jondaemal. It does not allow for a productive discussion culture to exist in South Korea. People can get so caught up in exclaiming ‘How dare you speak banmal to me!’ that no productive outcome actually comes from the conversation. Speaking banmal is even seen as worse than swearing at times. This is a problem that is uniquely severe in Korea, because its speech registers and address terms are so nuanced and complex. This is why integrating into Korean society can be so difficult for foreigners. People who have grown up in South Korea speaking Korean have jondaemal and banmal flowing in their blood. It is part of their social identity. Thus, efficient use of banmal and jondaemal is not something that can be acquired overnight for Korean-language learners.

Subtitle Submersion The instances of banmal explored previously typically pass unremarked in subtitle translations. There is no way to truly demonstrate the nuance of Jiyoung’s family switching between speech styles in Kim Ji-young: Born 1982, or the insulting way that the Paks speak to Mr Kim in Parasite (2019). As we saw in Parasite, using banmal to the wrong person or at the wrong place or wrong time can have consequences as severe as violence. Korean people can become furious if they believe that they are being looked down on unnecessarily. As such, great anger can also cause Korean people to start using banmal to make their speech even more insulting. Such switches into banmal often appear in K-films and K-movies, but viewers reading the English subtitles are none the wiser. Therefore, a large proportion of emphatic and attitudinal meaning submerged beneath the subtitles. This is a very big issue that translators have been grappling with for a long time. For example, when the Bible was first translated into Korean by John Ross, it was written without the proper usage of banmal and jondaemal. This caused a lot

Privately Speaking 105 of controversy. Later, James Scarth Gale created another translation that brought respect and hierarchy back into the translation. Thus, problems go both ways. There is no way to represent speech styles accurately in a Korean-English translation, but conversely, English-Korean translations have to add new attitudinal meanings to their translations that did not exist in the English originally.

Summary Banmal is a very crucial part of communication in Korea, despite the fact that it is often left on the sidelines in Korean textbooks. On the one hand, banmal can evoke feelings of solidarity and closeness between its users. On the other hand, banmal can be greatly inefficient. There is no general consensus about when banmal is appropriate to use and when not. Each person has their own personal preference, and, as such, the use of banmal has to be decided on a case-by-case basis. At best, the use of banmal in the wrong moment will create embarrassment and awkwardness, at worst, it will create conflict and offence. In K-dramas and K-films, the nuance of this is lost. Unless a translator takes a lot of creative liberties, it is hard to convey the same sense of casualness that banmal naturally has in Korean. If the translator wants to evoke the implied informality, then faithfulness to the original script may be lost. As such, banmal is a tricky matter for native speakers and translators, not just Korean-language learners.

Notes 1 Adam Kilgarriff, Vít Baisa, Jan Bušta, Miloš Jakubíček, Vojtěch Kovář, Jan Michelfeit, Pavel Rychlý, and Vít Suchomel. “The Sketch Engine: Ten Years On.” Lexicography 1 (2014): 7–36. www.sketchengine.eu. 2 Seoul Law Group. “Workplace Harassment in Korea: What Is Workplace Harassment?” Seoul Law Group, April 5, 2021. https://seoullawgroup.com/workplace-harassmentin-korea/. 3 SBS TV. Same Bed, Different Dreams 2, 2017–present. 4 Yulchon, L.L.C. “South Korea – What’s New in Employment Law in 2019 – Ius Laboris.” [online] Ius Laboris, 2019. Accessed August 4, 2022. https://iuslaboris.com/insights/ south-korea-whats-new-in-employment-law-in-2019/. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid. 7 KnowingKorea. “‘Gapjil’ and the Rage of Korean Air’s Daughters: Knowing Korea.” 2018 [online]. Accessed August 4, 2022. www.knowingkorea.org/contents/view/166/ Gapjil-and-the-rage-of-Korean-Air-s-daughters. 8 Ibid. 9 이, 석희. “툭하면 나오는 단골 막말싸움, ‘당신!’ ‘어린 것이!’ [레이더P].” 매일경 제, 2021. www.mk.co.kr/news/politics/9877739.

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Korean politeness standards are closely linked to the Neo-Confucian-style order that was prevalent on the Korean peninsula from the 17th century onward. Neo-Confucianism, as it was employed in Korea, created a strict class system. Society was split into four classes: yangban (nobility), jungin (middle class), sangmin (commoners), and cheonmin (social outcasts). The distinction between these classes was very strict. Were a sangmin to encounter a yangban, then they would have to bow, regardless of whether the yangban was younger or older than the sangmin. In Figure 8.1, a sangmin greets a yangban by bowing deeply. We do not know which of the two is the oldest, but it does not matter, because age would only be important if two people were of the same class.

Figure 8.1 A commoner greeting a man of nobility – Nohsangalhyen-do (Kim Deuk-shin) 노상알현도 (김득신).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-9

Formally Speaking 107 When the Joseon dynasty fell in the late 1800s, the class system was abolished. Nevertheless, Korea’s hierarchical past still lingers in contemporary South Korea. Neo-Confucianism in Korea centres around the Five Relations. These are: 1 2 3 4 5

kun shin yu eui 군신유의 There is loyalty between ruler and vassal bu ja yu chin 부자유친 There is closeness between father and son bu bu yu byeol 부부유별 Husband and wife are distinct hyeong je o ae 형제우애 Older and younger brothers have affection jang yu yu seo 장유유서 Old and young have order

Generally speaking, the Five Relations stipulated that youngers should follow their elders, juniors should follow their superiors, and women should follow men. Except for ‘husband and wife are distinct’, the Five Relations that were the pillars of the Joseon dynasty are not as far removed from contemporary Korean society as one might expect. ‘Old and young have order’ is still extremely relevant in Korean society. Even an age gap of one year requires the younger to show respect to the elder in their speech and nonverbal behaviour. In return, the elder in a relationship may look out for the younger and treat them to meals or provide for them by some other means. However, relationships that include age dynamics may also turn sour, with the youngest expected to serve those who are older than them. Any defiance expressed by the younger in a relationship, even if legitimate, can cause tension or breakdown of a relationship. The Five Relations are important because they demonstrate how Korean society functions through established orders. In Korea, it is comfortable when everyone knows their place. They know who they need to respect, and they know who they can relax around. By having a relatively clear system of hierarchy, Korean people can fit themselves into the order of whatever group/community/family/company that they may be in. Slotting neatly into the hierarchy is actually a way of maintaining peace in Korea. Korean society finds peace in order.

Korean Politeness As you may be starting to see, politeness in Korean is markedly different from that of English and many Western cultures. Being polite when speaking English does not require us to change our language at a fundamental level. Although there are words that are specifically associated with politeness, such as ‘please’, ‘thank you’, ‘pardon’, and ‘excuse me’, these are few and are lexical rather than grammatical in nature. In English, polite and non-polite sentences are based on roughly the same grammatical rules. A large part of what English speakers consider politeness consists of considerate gestures, such as asking a guest if they would like any refreshments; avoiding taboo subjects or offensive language in conversation; and asking about the other person in small talk. In this way, English politeness revolves around being considerate of the other party.

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In comparison, Korean politeness is about social order. Politeness depends on hierarchy, meaning that the appropriate way to speak and act is always changing depending on the hierarchies between speakers: how you speak depends on who you are and who you are talking to. Hierarchical relationships are encoded into the language grammatically, to the extent that it is impossible to avoid specifying the relationship between the speaker and the hearer. One cannot hide one’s attitude towards the listener. Being more polite can create distance between speakers, however, meaning that one must constantly decide whether to prioritise respect to avoid causing offence, or intimacy to build a closer relationship. Politeness in Korea also serves to maintain Confucian etiquette (yeui 예의 禮儀). Confucian etiquette centres around paying proper respect to one’s seniors. When Koreans see someone behaving inappropriately or rudely, they use the word manner, saying maeneo eopda 매너 없다, which literally means no manners. When someone behaves badly to their elders, Koreans say yeui opda 예의 없다 (no courtesy) or beoreut eopda 버릇 없다 (no good habits), and it is the latter context by which people talk about ‘being impolite’. Respect based on hierarchy and order is the key concept in Korean politeness, in contrast to the emphasis on being considerate in English politeness. The graphs in Figures 8.2 and 8.3 are the results of a Sketch engine search for gongson (공손, 恭遜), the Korean word for politeness.

Figure 8.2 Words associated with ‘polite’ in English.

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Figure 8.3 Words associated with gongsun (공손 politeness) in Korean.

These graphs display collocations: the words that are most often used alongside another word. The larger the word is displayed in the graph, the more frequently it is used alongside the centre word. For instance, we can assume that the word ‘society’ is quite large in the first graph because of the common phrase ‘polite society’. We can compare these two graphs to understand how the collocations for the concept of polite vary between Korean and English. The collocations for English give us a certain sense of what politeness means in English: words such as ‘respectful’, ‘helpful’, ‘courteous’, ‘pleasant’, ‘considerate’, and ‘friendly’ illustrate that politeness in English refers to kind and thoughtful behaviour towards others. On the other hand, the Korean collocations include words like ‘filial piety’, ‘honorifics’, ‘senior’, ‘speech styles’, ‘bow’, ‘meek’, and ‘serve’. The Korean collocations imply a greater emphasis on order, hierarchy, and respect, in contrast to the focus on considerate behaviour in the English collocations.

Jondaemal Broadly speaking, the opposite of banmal is jondaemal 존댓말, which literally translates as respectful speech in English. Jondaemal is used in public situations with people

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that you are not close to, or with people who are older and/or of a higher status than you. Jondaemal includes both the polite -yo and honorific -bnida sentence endings, and respectful nonverbal behaviour. Whilst banmal can build intimacy between speakers, jondaemal creates distance. It is polite and can be somewhat friendly, but it clearly denotes that two speakers are a) not equals, or b) not close. It may seem logical that two people would either remain using jondaemal throughout knowing each other or move from using jondaemal to banmal as they get closer, however, it is also possible to go from using banmal to using jondaemal. This happens when two people lose touch for a period of time. For example, my uncle called me Jieun-a (name + vocative particle) when I was a child, which is standard in families. However, now that I have grown up and we are less close, he calls me by my job title instead to be polite and respect the distance between us. Setting also greatly influences whether jondaemal is used or not. Jondaemal is the equivalent of wearing a suit or formal wear. You would not wear it in casual situations, but you would definitely need to wear it in the workplace and in other formal environments. This means that if you are in a workplace, you would likely talk to a close friend using jondaemal because the environment necessitates it. The same is true of the Korean military. All Korean male citizens must complete two years of mandatory military service sometime between being 18 and 35 years old. The Korean military has a very strict hierarchy and, as such, jondaemal is very often used. Korean men find it very difficult to adapt to this rigid environment, as there is very little room for negotiation in the army. Another formal environment is school, where children are expected to use jondaemal to their teachers. You would also hear jondaemal being used between in-laws, and to parents-in-law.

Calling Names Koreans hardly ever simply call each other’s name, unless they are very close. In formal situations, name calling rarely ever occurs. This isn’t only Korean culture either, but rather common amongst most Asian languages.1 In fact, Asians often experience culture shock when juniors appear to call their senior’s name in the English subtitles of Asian films and television programmes. At school, names alone are only ever used reciprocally between close friends of the same school year, and often the same class. Even being just one year-group apart, which might only be a few months apart in age, warrants hierarchy. The same rule is found in banmal use. In the military, however, regardless of whether you are the same age and unit or not, having met after school makes it increasingly difficult to create the kind of intimacy where people can reciprocally call each other by name as equal close intimates. This is similarly found in workplaces where address terms are essential. Indeed, the negotiation that is a necessity in Korean communication is not normally attempted when it comes to address terms in workplaces or the military at all. The older one gets, the more difficult it becomes to create intimacy. It is perhaps for this reason that childhood friendships are treasured by Koreans.

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Jondaemal in the Military Figure 8.4 shows a scene from the hit Korean television show DP (released in 2021). The series, directed by Han Jun-hee, follows new recruit Private Ahn Joon-ho and Corporal Han Ho-yul who are teamed up to find military deserters. In DP, junior soldiers can always be heard speaking in jondaemal to seniors, while seniors always speak in banmal. The seniors are particularly harsh, but the soldiers must remain entirely obedient. An example of one of many scenes in which banmal is used harshly to juniors is shown in Figure 8.5. In the scene, the new recruits have only just arrived at the military base and are greeted at their lodgings by a senior officer. He speaks coarsely, and even insults them, a lot like you might hear in Hollywood military movies also. However, much of the coarseness, insult, and even swearing, which is translated in the English subtitles, is actually banmal. Even between soldiers of a similar age, if one soldier joined the army before the other, then the one who joined first holds a senior rank. In Figure 8.6, a slightly senior soldier (left) speaks in banmal and uses informal nonverbal behaviour, while his junior, who is also a new recruit (right), speaks in jondaemal with polite and reserved body language. He avoids eye contact, often lowers his head, and keeps his posture modest and compact, in direct contrast to the senior soldier.

Jondaemal in Extraordinary Attorney Woo Extraordinary Attorney Woo is a 2022 Korean drama, featuring an autistic protagonist, named Woo Young-woo. The drama tells the story of Young-woo starting a new position as an attorney in a large law firm in Seoul. The drama has garnered great popularity in South Korea, having the highest ratings on its channel, ENA,

Figure 8.4 A junior interrupts a meeting amongst his seniors to inform the most senior officer present of his appointment. He uses a formal style to do so, while the senior officer responds in banmal, in DP (2021).

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Figure 8.5 A senior speaks to new recruits who have just joined the army. The recruits also avoid eye contact no matter how insulted they feel in DP (2021).

Figure 8.6 A soldier of a similar age is able to speak in banmal and perform patting and skinship to a new recruit because he joined before him and thus has a senior rank, in DP (2021).

ever. The drama is also available internationally on Netflix. Young-woo is an interesting character linguistically. She does not use banmal and jondaemal in the conventional manner. Young-woo speaks in jondaemal to pretty much everyone, using the -upnida ㅂ니다 form and honorific particles, such as -nim -님, -ssi -씨, and -ggesseo -께서. She uses honorific language to speak to her father, even when they are in a private setting. Young-woo’s father owns a kimbap shop, and kimbap is one of Young-woo’s ‘same foods’ (Figure 8.7). Autistic people can find new things daunting, and some tend to eat the same food often, as it is comforting. Here is an

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Figure 8.7 Young-woo (right) freezes after taking a bite of her father’s kimbap.

excerpt of dialogue from a scene where Young-woo is eating breakfast alone with her father; the honorific sections of her speech have been underlined: Young-woo: ‘Have you changed the ham in the kimbap?’ ‘김밥 속에 햄 바 꾸셨습니까?’ ‘gimbap soge haem bakkusyeotseumnikka’ Father: ‘Yes, why?’ ‘어, 왜?’ ‘eo, wae?’ Young-woo: ‘It does not taste great’. ‘맛이 별로입니다’. ‘masi byeolloimnida’ Father: ‘Says a grown woman who is a princess that can’t even set the table for her father! Just eat it, grumpy guts!’ ‘어쭈! 다 큰 녀석이 아빠한테 밥 상을 차려주지 못한 왕자인, 그냥 먹어 반잔 투정이냐!’ ‘eojju! da keun nyeoseogi appahante bapsangeul charyeojuji motan wangjain, geunyang meogeo banjan tujeonginya’ The exchange takes place in her father’s restaurant before it has opened in the morning, so there is no one else around. Despite being in a private situation with her own father, Young-woo uses the polite -upnida ending each time she speaks. Her father talks to her casually in banmal, as is conventional. Young-woo adopts this polite tone to almost everyone that she speaks to at work. Even when it is not necessary for her to use highly honorific words, she still does. Overall, this habit makes Young-woo an endearing character to watch. Although we talk about jondaemal creating distance, it doesn’t make someone unlikeable. Instead, the story’s conflicts tend to stem from Young-woo not being able to express herself exactly as she wishes. Woo Young-woo serves to remind us that although there is convention in Korea, there is also room to find your own path for your own unique situation.

De-generalising East Asian Address Terms It is worth briefly de-generalising East Asian usages of address terms, and specifically their use in formal environments. Chinese, Japanese, and Korean address

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terms are similar in that they each recognise a certain social hierarchy in their communication systems. However, the degree of nuance and the motivation behind using different address terms varies significantly from country to country and language to language. The variables affecting address terms in each language include the following: • • •

Age Position/seniority Closeness

The use of address terms used specifically in school settings will be provided as an example. The following includes a brief description of school-appropriate address terms used in each language, based on the three variables listed previously. Korean: 1) Age: The address terms used in the Korean language are heavily influenced by age. In a high school setting, for example, a student born in 2000 would always refer to students born in 1999 as hyeong, nuna, oppa, or eonni, which are all kinship terms, depending on the genders of the interlocutors. They may also refer to older students as . Students born in 1999 would address the younger students by their first name, usually with an added vocative particle (a/ya/i). 2) Position/seniority: The Korean high school system is such that all students in the same class or year are also of the same birth year. Therefore, rules for addressing seniors and juniors in school are the same as the rules regarding age. The term seonbae (-nim) may also be used to address a senior, but is very rare in the high school setting, and more common in university settings. In a school club or team, captains and other officers are usually still addressed by normal address terms, not by titles. This changes in official utterances where office needs to be mentioned. 3) Closeness: Kinship terms are used almost universally. Being students at the same school and in the same class creates a pre-set closeness. However, after high school, kinship terms are used with less and less frequency. In university, they often are used to friends at least one year older. Usually, when two students are close, kinship terms replace terms like seonbae, even within the same department. After school and university, kinship terms become less and less common, as does the direct calling of names. Japanese: 1)

Age: Address terms in Japanese are not as dependent upon age as they are in Korean. In a high school setting, your year in school would be considered

Formally Speaking 115 more important than age in determining address terms. The same is true for a university setting. 2) Position/seniority: In a high school setting, those of lower seniority refer to their seniors never by first name alone, and usually with the title senpei. Seniors refer to juniors by first name with an added suffix, usually either -kun or -chan, which both express a certain level of intimacy. Outside of school, when seniority is not known, is the most common form of address. In a school club setting, the captain of the club may be referred to by position title or with the normal senpei title. 3) Closeness: Closeness is also important but does not undermine the role of rank. Junior students do not refer to their seniors without a suffix or title, but may be much more casual with friends of the same position or lower position. Before any sort of relationship is established, is often used, and after becoming close, becomes more common. Chan and kun are both considered fairly intimate. First name alone may be used in very close relationships. Chinese: 1) Age: Chinese address terms do not depend upon age, even in a school setting. Students of different ages may use each other’s names. 2) Position/seniority: In a high school or university setting, this plays a somewhat important role. Students will often refer to students of more seniority as . To other students who are younger or in the same year, they simply use names. Titles are usually used in club or team settings. 3) Closeness: Closeness in a relationship supersedes the need for formality based on age or position. Even to friends who are a few years older or in a higher position, address terms are foregone, and names (either surname then forename, forename, or nickname) are used comfortably. These observations lead us to assume that, at least in school settings, in Korean, age is the strongest factor in determining address terms; in Japanese, position/ seniority is the strongest factor in determining address terms; and in Chinese, closeness is the strongest factor in determining address terms. We also briefly looked at second-person pronouns. Interestingly, in Korean the second-person pronoun is only used in close relationships (including school relationships) of equal age or by seniors to juniors. In Japanese, the second-person pronoun is very rarely used, and address terms or names are used instead, even in a school setting. In Chinese, the second-person pronoun is used easily and comfortably, but with discretion to people of authority, like teachers. For example, a Chinese student might refer to the teacher as laoshi (teacher) instead of ni (you), but would still probably refer to their parents as ni (you). It can be inferred that in Korean and possibly Japanese, first-person pronouns function as a part of speech style, and are therefore much more flexible than second-person pronouns, which function as address terms.

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Translator Tribulations In this digital age, there is almost nothing that technology can’t help us with. Online translators have become more and more accurate and useful as our AI capabilities develop. One can translate English into almost perfect French, Spanish, or German using Google Translate. When it comes to Korean, however, the situation is not the same. Google Translate seems to have no awareness of Korean speech registers and address terms. Originating from an American company, it has not taken into account that users would need to provide contextual information about a sentence for it to be translated into an appropriate speech register. What is more, Google Translate’s translations come out using a random mix of polite, casual, and honorific speech registers, leading the translations to sound very strange. The AI software of Google, much like Naver’s Papago, simply spews out the most frequently used terms that it has learnt. In the case of Korean, where there is no one-size-fits-all speech register, this simple doesn’t work. In Table 8.1, we see examples of mismatched pronouns and speech styles. There is no consistent pattern in the combinations of pronouns and speech styles. For example, if we look at the first-person pronoun, (1) has an explicit first-person Table 8.1 English sentences vs Korean-outputted sentence from Google Translate Number

Inputted English

Outputted Korean (Hangeul)

Romanisation

1

I am coming

naega ganda

2

Could I give you some water? I will give you some water

내가 간다 물좀 드릴까요? 물 좀 줄게 당신이 오고 있다 당신은 내 가장 친한 친구입니다 너 정말 사랑스러워 당신은 정말 겁장이야 그녀는 내 동생 그녀는 나의 엄마입니다.

mul jom julge

3 4

You are coming

5

You are my best friend

6

You’re so lovely

7

You’re such a wimp

8

She is my sister

9

She is my mother

muljom deurilkkayo?

dangsini ogo issda dangsineun nae gajang chinhan chinguipnida

neo jeongmal sarangseureowo dangsineun jeongmal geopjangiya geunyeoneun nae dongsaeng geunyeoneun naui eommaipnida.

Formally Speaking 117 pronoun, whereas (2) and (3) omit the first-person pronoun. As for the secondperson pronoun, both dangsin and neo are outputted, but their use appears totally arbitrary, as in Table 8.2. The selection of sentence endings is equally random too, as in Table 8.3. Ultimately, translations with these random selections of pronouns and sentence endings are unnatural due to pragmatic conflict.2 This is a huge problem in Korean translation. To help resolve this problem, I have created a translator that offers a range of translations in different speech registers with the help of Eubin Kim.3 Users can choose which sentence to use according to whether they are in a private or public space, and whom they are talking to (boss, family, friends, juniors). Figure 8.8 shows an example. In Figure 8.8, ‘I will arrive at 3pm tomorrow’ has been translated. Both the pronouns and endings changed according to the context of the sentence, and importantly, the pronouns and endings match. For a comfortable and informal setting with friends, juniors, and family, the casual pronoun na 나 is used for ‘I’ and the neutral ending has been matched with it. For formal settings with friends, juniors, and family, the formal pronoun jeo 저 (I) has been matched with the polite ending -yo -요. This version of the sentence would also be acceptable to use in a comfortable and informal situation with a boss at work. The most formal sentence matches jeo (I) with the honorific -bnida -ㅂ니다 ending. This appears in the ‘boss at work’ formal-situation category. The politeness tuner is a work in progress, but it aims to help people translate their sentences appropriately to avoid them causing any offence inadvertently. Table 8.2 Inputted vs outputted pronouns Inputted English

Outputted Korean

Location

I

Ne 내 (omitted) Tangsin 당신 Neo 너 (omitted) Kunyeo 그녀

Example 1

I You You You She

Example 2, 3 Example 4, 5, 7 Example 6 Example 8, 9 Example 8, 9

Table 8.3 Types of sentence ending Sentence-ending style

Location

Formal honorific Polite Intimate Neutral

Example 5, 9 Example 2 Example 3, 6 Example 1, 4, 8

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Figure 8.8 Screenshot from Kiaer and Kim’s new English-Korean online translator.

Changes in the Workplace In the past, the workplace hierarchy has been almost as strict as the military’s hierarchy, but companies are gradually beginning to change. Big international companies are trying to promote a horizontal work culture, rather than the vertical one that currently exists. Major companies, such as Samsung, Hyundai, SK, and LG are trying to improve their workplace cultures. A horizontal work culture is seen as better for allowing workers to freely voice their opinions. Korean hierarchical culture emphasises that juniors should follow their seniors, and so putting forward ideas could be seen as too bold and, thus, rude and insubordinate.

Formally Speaking 119 At Samsung, the rankings in the company have been reduced from seven to four: assistant, professional, senior professional, and principal professional.4 The company has made it so that these ranks no longer appear in the company’s intranet to further reduce conceptions of hierarchy within the workplace. All workers are expected to address each other as ‘pro’, rather than by names or other titles.5 All workers are also expected to speak to each other using jondaemal. The initiative is still in its teething phase, however. One Samsung employee told the Hankyoreh Daily that although it was a positive change, the office had been quiet all day because suddenly using jondaemal is awkward.6 Thus, although many support horizontal working, actually putting it into practice is counterintuitive for many Korean employees. Such changes come at a time when many companies are trying to improve their workplace culture in general. Companies, such as Hyundai, have introduced home working, voluntary-seating systems, and relaxed dress codes. In the past, older generations have not been so receptive to these changes, but Generation MZ (Millennials and Gen Z) are more in favour of more liberal working environments, and so these changes might just take hold.

Summary As we have seen in this chapter, speaking in public relies on the hierarchical relations between two speakers. It almost always results in the use of jondaemal. Jondaemal is more than just polite and honorific endings, it also involves pronouns, address terms, and gestures. Constant tuning is required to ensure that one uses the right speech levels, and this can be inefficient. The accidental use of a wrong speech register can create awkwardness and embarrassment. Constantly having to maintain face can also be tiring. Thus, efforts like Samsung’s to change work culture seems to be very positive.

Notes 1 Kiaer, Jieun. Study Abroad in Korea: Korean Language and Culture. Abingdon: Routledge, 2020. 2 Ibid. 3 Link to the app: https://eubinecto-politely-main-streamlit-4vmces.streamlitapp.com. Project explanation: https://github.com/eubinecto/politely. 4 송,형.“과장·차장계급장떼고 . . .’김프로’‘박프로’로불러주세요.” [online] 한경닷컴, 2021. Accessed April 6, 2022. www.hankyung.com/economy/article/2021111632151. 5 Ibid. 6 서 지윤. “삼성전자 ‘상호 존댓말 쓰기’ 직원들 반응은?” 스토리오브서울, April 3, 2022. www.storyofseoul.com/news/articleView.html?idxno=10100.

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Interculturally Speaking

Intercultural communication is an important but often neglected facet of language learning. It is the cross-cultural differences that we encounter in intercultural communication that create invisibility, untranslatability, and subsequently misunderstandings. Furthermore, the way that we relate to the language we are learning, not only on a linguistic level, but on a cultural and historical level, can affect the way that we view and experience that language. Exploring this subject can only be of benefit to language learners seeking to excel beyond typical grammar textbooks, and to bring visibility. South Korea is often thought of as being an ethnically and linguistically homogeneous country, but this is not strictly true.1 The number of Korean residents classed as ‘foreigners’ surpassed 2 million in 2016, peaking at 2.52 million in 2019. Chinese residents account for 43% of the foreign population, totalling 840,000 residents, Vietnamese residents number 208,000, Thai 171,000, and American 140,000.2 This number has fallen below 2 million since the pandemic, however.3 Many immigrants to Korea move for marriage. The number of marriage migrants has increased year on year, from 148,000 in 2012 to a record high of 170,000 in 2020.4 Women accounted for 81.8% of marriage migrants, totalling 137,000 in 2020. Chinese people make up the majority of marriage migrants at 35.6% (about 60,000 people), followed by Vietnam with 26.1% (about 44,000 people), Japan with 8.7% (about 14,000 people), and the Philippines with 7.1% (about 12,000 people).5 In 2018, 5% of children born in Korea were multi-ethnic, and it is predicted that 10% of the population will either be multi-ethnic or born outside of South Korea by 2030.6 Hence, South Korea is well on its way to becoming a multilingual and multicultural society. The reality is, however, that it is not all plain sailing for foreigners who want to integrate into Korean society. This is true even for members of the Korean diaspora who were born outside of South Korea. Simple everyday matters, like opening a bank account and calling a taxi, can pose big problems for foreigners moving to Korea. This is in part due to the complexity of Korean communication, which cannot be carried out successfully without knowledge of the listener’s social background. Koreans carry out a visual scan of the person with whom they are going to interact, before they even say a word. Someone who looks older will be spoken to in jondaemal, someone who looks younger will be spoken to more DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-10

Interculturally Speaking 121 casually, and so on. When Koreans encounter a non-Korean, however, they can’t be sure what to do. They know a non-Korean might not be familiar with Korean pragmatics, but on the other hand, most Korean people are so used to interacting within the rules of Korean pragmatics. As such, the situation is uncomfortable. There are no rules or precedents for interacting with foreigners. Address terms pose a particular problem. How do you refer to someone nonKorean using a system of address that is so uniquely Korean? I conducted interviews with Koreans on this topic and these are a sample of the responses that I received:7 • • •

•

‘For me, if it was a [Korean American] who speaks good Korean, I think I would call them eonni [older sister] or oppa [older brother]. For foreigners, or white people, I just use their names’. ‘I think I would just call her by name. For me . . . using eonni [older sister] or oppa [older brother] to a foreigner just feels awkward. Something about using address terms to foreigners is . . . I don’t know, I’m just not used to it’. ‘I just call them by name. I used to use words like hyeong [older brother] or nuna [older sister], but now I only do that if I’m joking around. Calling them by name is much more natural . . . because Americans all use each other’s names, so I don’t feel a need to call them hyeong [older brother] or nuna [older sister]’. ‘I would just call him by name because he’s a foreigner. . . . Honorific speech and informal speech only exist in Korea. Foreigners don’t pay attention to things like that’.

As you can see, many Koreans feel that foreigners exist outside of the Korean system of address terms, particularly kinship address terms. The irony is that many Korean-language learners spend a lot of time learning about address terms, only to not end up using them in real life. For example, I know an American professor who works at a university in South Korea. While many of his students refer to him as 교수님 (Professor), some of his students refer to him by his first name. Despite being American, this professor was not so comfortable with his students calling him by his first name, whilst addressing other professors formally with an address term. There is just no precedent for how to deal with these situations. The students do not know how best to address him, and the professor does not know how to respond. It is exactly this kind of problem that speaking interculturally poses in South Korea. The difficulty of negotiating South Korean politeness is hard even for North Koreans to deal with. In my experience, even North Korean defectors that are living in the UK prefer speaking in English to South Koreans. The social tuning required to pick the right speech registers and address terns is so specific to contemporary South Korean society that North Koreans would rather not speak their first language with them. It is simply easier to speak in English so that everyone can be on equal footing. The divide between North Koreans and South Koreans can seem vast at times. New Malden in London has the largest population

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of North Korean defectors and a large population of South Koreans, yet North Korean and South Korean families tend to send their children to different Korean schools. There is one for South Korean families, and one for North Korean families. There is also one community centre for North Koreans, and one for South Koreans. Korea’s extremely complex politeness system is inefficient at times, as it is just so tricky to navigate. This is only further complicated when Korean speakers who haven’t grown up in South Korea enter the picture, as they may feel alienated from South Korean speakers entirely. This shows that language and our identity are strongly linked. The way we use language, even if it is the same language, constructs our social identity in a manner that can unite or divide us. Aside from cultural and linguistic barriers, there are also problems with discrimination in South Korea. Asians in South Korea face a lot of prejudice. Migrant wives are known as 이주 여성 yiju yeoseong (migrant women), which has become a term with heavy negative connotations. In the Korean dictionary, yiju yeosong is defined as a ‘woman who has left her own country to marry and live with a Korean man’. The term really only refers to Asian women. A European or North American woman would never be referred to as yiju yeoseong. As such, there is a strong sense of racial prejudice contained within the term. Asian men are not much better off. Asian immigrants to Korea, such as Ali in Squid Game (2019), are often employed as solutions for cheap labour, and are often looked down upon by Korean society. This is a serious problem in South Korea that many charity organisations are working to change. With English fever taking over Korea, Korea is certainly opening up to the outside world more and more. It has begun to acknowledge its new multilingual and multicultural nature, but there is still a long way to go. Representation of Korea’s multiculturalism is rare in Korean media. Very few non-Koreans are featured in Korean films, dramas, and variety shows, though the number is growing. Where non-Koreans do appear, they tend to be Westerners, despite the fact that Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai residents make up the largest proportion of Korea’s foreign population. Greater voice needs to be given to these communities for Korea to truly honour its developing multiculturalism.

Diaspora Communities When people think of Korean culture, they think of South Korea. They often forget the large Korean-diaspora population that also influences what ‘Korean culture’ is. As of 2019, there were over 7 million overseas Koreans, with over 2.5 million living in the US and 2.3 million in China.8 Diaspora culture diversifies Korean culture. Though based on the same principles, South Korean culture and diaspora culture are different. Lee Isaac Chung’s much celebrated Korean American film Minari (2020) depicts some of the struggles that diaspora families face. The film tells the story of the Korean-immigrant Yi family who have moved from California to rural Arkansas, where the father hopes to grow Korean produce to sell to vendors in Dallas. The Yi family have two children, and Mrs Yi’s mother comes to stay with them too. The story depicts the trials and tribulations

Interculturally Speaking 123 to which interculturality can lead. The production of the film and the way that it was received reflects issues surrounding diaspora communities in the West almost too perfectly: Despite being shot in America about American issues by an American filmmaker, Minari was still nominated in the Best Foreign Language Film category at the Golden Globes. The nomination almost seemed to say, ‘you are not real Americans’. One plight of being a diaspora member in any country is validating your place in a new country whilst also holding onto your heritage. Both the film and the reception of the film demonstrate the difficulty of striking this balance, and how Western societies aren’t always accepting of diaspora communities.

Interactions With Americans Diaspora families exist in a liminal space between their heritage culture and the culture of the country in which they live. Navigating the differences between the two is not easy. Minari provides an array of examples of intercultural communication between Korean and English (American). Minari is filled with humorous and uncomfortable instances that result from cross-cultural untranslatability, which ultimately arises because of differences in cultures and the way two cultures relate to each other and approach these differences. The K-wave has made being Korean ‘cool’ in America – the fact that Minari is known by its Korean name, rather than its translation (water celery) is an indicator of this. Koreans were not always received so welcomingly however, as Minari, set in 1983, serves to show. After the Yis first move to set up their farm, they meet a local American farmhand named Paul when he comes to sell Mr Yi his tractor. When they seal the deal, Paul hugs Mr Yi (Figure 9.1). Although Paul is trying to be warm and friendly, this is an uncomfortable moment for Mr Yi. Physical affection simply isn’t as common in South Korea, especially with someone that you have just met. Mr Yi

Figure 9.1 American man Paul hugs Mr Yi without knowing that this is culturally uncomfortable for Mr Yi, in Minari (2020).

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Figure 9.2 Mr and Mrs Yi are introduced to their colleagues by their employer who claps to welcome them. Minari (2020).

is undoubtedly uncomfortable. Rather than bringing them closer together, this gesture may even drive Mr Yi to dislike Paul. This hug is indicative of the chasm of cultural difference between the two men. Similarly, when Mr and Mrs Yi begin their jobs at a chicken-sexing factory, their new employer wishes to give them a ‘warm welcome’, so he suggests that the current employees clap for them. He is the only one who claps in the end because all the employees are Asian and this is not a common greeting (Figure 9.2). When no one joins in, the boss awkwardly clasps his hands together in front of his chest. Paired with his uncomfortable smile, it is implied that the employer thinks that his good intentions are going over the employees’ heads because they are of a different culture. There is a grim sense of condescension expressed by the boss’s mannerisms. This tension is a major theme in Minari, highlighting the difficulties that diaspora members encounter when trying to go about their lives in the US. A simple bow can have a different pragmatic value within different cultures, depending upon a range of factors, including depth and the positioning of one’s hands. These factors become less important in a translanguaging space, where one is trying to find the most appropriate elements for that situation from what they have available to them in their repertoire. In Minari (2020), when Mr and Mrs Yi begin their new jobs at the chicken-sexing factory, they bow to greet their new colleagues. Their colleagues are from a range of East Asian backgrounds, with only one Korean woman amongst them. Although the specifics of their background are unknown at this point, bowing is a more appropriate choice for the Yis than waving, since bowing is common in East Asia, and it is clear that this is felt to be better than any other form of greeting. One may argue that the Yis might think the other colleagues are Korean too, however, it is made clear that they do not expect this to be the case. When they sit to begin working, Mrs Yi is very shocked to be spoken to in Korean by one of her new colleagues.

Interculturally Speaking 125

Interfamily Issues Discomfort created by cultural gaps even happens between first- and secondgeneration immigrants, as the second generation operate in a dual dimension of culture and language. To help bridge the gap between two cultures, multilingual families ‘translanguage’. This means freely mixing all one’s language resources in a borderless way to communicate in the most effective way. In the case of Minari (2020), translanguaging means mixing Korean and English together. For example, Mrs Yi says ‘hana, dul, cheese’ 하나 둘 치즈 (‘One, two, cheese’) to David and Anna when she is taking a photo of them, mixing Korean numbers with the English phrase ‘say cheese’. The Korean equivalent would have been ‘hana, dul, kimchi’ 하나 둘 김치 (‘One, two, kimchi’). Mrs Oh mixes English and Korean to appeal to her children’s knowledge and comfortability with speaking English. When the children speak to their parents in Korean, however, they tend to speak in the polite form. For example, when Anna asks her dad why he is growing Korean crops rather than typical American ones, she uses jondaemal to politely ask him, ‘Wouldn’t it be better to grow American vegetables?’ (‘Miguk chaesoryu simneun gae natji aneulkkayo?’ ‘미국 채소를 심는 게 낫지 않을까요?’) When her father replies, saying that 30,000 Korean people are moving to the US every year, and that they will want to eat Korean vegetables, Anna replies with the a polite, nasal ‘ne’ 네 (‘yes’). Up until this point, we have emphasised that family members tend to use banmal to each other in private settings. Anna and her father are in a private setting, and yet Anna still uses jondaemal. Here, we begin to see one of the differences between Korean-diaspora communities and Koreans living in South Korea. Members of the Korean diaspora place a lot of emphasis on respecting elders. As they have travelled away from South Korea, they feel they need to bring their values with them and stand by them, which means they can be very strict. Overseas Korean schools, which Korean parents tend to take their children to on the weekend, often place great emphasis on teaching Confucian values, like filial piety, to overseas Korean children. As a result, Korean-diaspora children deliberately use Korean when speaking to Korean adults to allow them to access the Korean registers of politeness that do not exist in any other language.9 Anna and David negotiate their relationship with their parents quite well. The children speak politely in Korean to their parents, and the parents make an effort to incorporate English into their speech when speaking with the children. Problems arise, however, when Mrs Yi’s mother comes to stay with them. The grandmother has little understanding of American culture, and she has little inclination to learn. David and Anna aren’t familiar with anyone like their grandma, and so they do not immediately get on. In one scene, David finds his grandmother sat on the floor watching boxing on the TV. He says to her, albeit politely, ‘You’re not like a real grandma’. When the grandmother asks what a real grandma looks like, David responds, ‘They make cookies, and don’t swear, and don’t wear men’s boxers’. David’s idea of a ‘real’ grandma is highly Americanised. Regardless of her nationality and ethnicity, the grandma is quite an eccentric person, so it

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is unsurprising that there is some clash between her and her grandchildren who would prefer their grandma to fit the American stereotype. This does not mean that David’s grandmother doesn’t make an effort to bond with her grandchildren. The grandmother speaks very little English, but although David can speak Korean, she occasionally tries to use an English word to create solidarity. On one occasion, she tries to compliment him. She wants to tell him that he is handsome, but instead she calls him ‘pretty’, which in English is generally associated with feminine beauty. This results in David taking insult, making his grandmother’s attempt at bridging the cultural gap through David’s seemingly preferred culture and language a failure. This creates conflict, humour, and subsequently empathy. David in particular dislikes his grandma. This reaches a boiling point when he pours away the tonic that his grandma made for him using oriental medicine and replaces it with urine. He then gives it to his grandmother, who is still sitting on the floor watching wrestling. She takes a sip and quickly realises what has happened. When David’s parents find out, they punish him harshly, even threatening to hit him with a stick. Their response demonstrates the importance of filial piety (hyo 효) to the Korean diaspora. Children are expected to be respectful and grateful towards their parents and grandparents. This form of respect is the backbone of politeness in Korean-diaspora communities. Even though David is ill with a heart murmur, his parents believe disrespect towards his grandmother to be worthy of a harsh punishment. Eventually, however, David is won over by his grandmother’s ‘Korean-style love’. He often refused to speak to his grandmother in Korean, but after she has a stroke, he starts to sympathise with her and speak Korean with her more willingly. This demonstrates the importance of language within diaspora communities. Language can build solidarity between diaspora members, although, as David and his grandmother show, it can also create divides.

Cross-Cultural Space Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja provides examples of intercultural discussion outside of the family. It demonstrates some of the meaning that is lost because of a lack of intercultural understanding. The cultural differences between English and Korean create such a gap that one would have to speak both languages in order to understand the significance of what is taking place in the film. Okja (2017) tells the story of Mija who cared for a giant pig, Okja, in the mountains of South Korea for the international conglomerate Mirando Corporation. The time comes for the pig to be returned to the corporation and, unbeknownst to Mija, be slaughtered. When Mija finds this out, she travels to New York to save Okja. The film provides numerous examples of how intercultural interactions give way to more layers of meaning than monocultural interactions. In one scene, animal rights group ALF (the Animal Liberation Front) rescues Okja from the Mirando Corporation. Their underlying motive, however, is to use Okja as a mole to expose Mirando’s animal abuse. To do this, they would have

Interculturally Speaking 127 to hack into Okja’s monitoring system and allow the super-pig to be taken back to the lab. Jay won’t go through with the plan without Mija’s consent, but the only way to communicate with her is through fellow ALF member, K, a Korean American character, because only she speaks Korean. When K asks Mija if she will agree, Mija says that she wants to take Okja home to the mountains in South Korea. K ignores this and lies to Jay, unbeknownst to Mija, saying in English that Mija agreed. With that, the ALF members abandon Mija to her surprise, with K the last to go. Before he leaves, according to the English subtitles, K’s final words to Mija are ‘Mija! Try learning English. It opens new doors!’ But what he actually says is, ‘Mija! Also, my name is Koo Soon-bum’. This is a mistranslation that would only be apparent to those who can speak both Korean and English, and a subversion to the supremacy of English in Korean society because you would need to speak Korean rather than English to understand what K says. This scene plays on the interaction of Korean and English languages, creating meaning that requires one to speak both English and Korean in order to understand the joke. The name ‘Koo Soo-bum’ is quite an old-fashioned name. In Alex Jung’s article ‘Did You Catch the Translation Joke in Okja?’ actor Steven Yeun who plays K explains: ‘“Koo Soon-bum” is sort of like a white man saying his name is “Buford Attaway”. . . . When he says, “Koo Soon-bum”, it’s funny to you if you’re Korean, because that’s a dumb name. There’s no way to translate that. That’s like, the comedy drop-off, the chasm between countries.’10 Okja (2017) also features intercultural interactions where the two characters do not understand the other person’s feelings or attitudes completely because of their own languages and cultures. In one scene, Mija becomes increasingly frustrated when impatiently waiting to see if Okja is safe. At one point, she refuses something offered by an older woman who works for the Mirando Corporation, and when she does, she makes direct eye contact for a period of time with the woman (Figure 9.3). Although she refuses politely verbally, Mija is being confrontational in her nonverbal gestures. The woman, however, has no idea what this gesture

Figure 9.3 Mija makes direct eye contact while refusing politely, in the 2017 film Okja (옥자).

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means pragmatically in Korean terms, and so has no idea about Mija’s attitude or feelings, nor what to expect from her character; and importantly, Korean-speaking viewers are aware of the woman’s lack of understanding too.

Foreign Voices in Korea We could not talk about interculturality without returning to Squid Game (2019). The show’s narrative deals with social stereotypes, and immigrants are one of the character tropes explored. The struggles of these characters as immigrants are untranslatable in English, however if you speak Korean, it is explicit in how they use the language. Pakistani migrant worker, Ali Abdul, frequently refers to male contestants as sajangnim 사장님 (meaning ‘manager’ or ‘boss’). His use of this term indicates his life as a factory worker, because this is what he would call his boss, who is likely also an older Korean male (Figure 9.4). Improper use of an address term can thus indicate further layers of meaning when it is used by a nonKorean. Ali is even told by his fellow contestant Sang-woo that there is no need to call him sajangnim because the term belongs to a professional environment and implies that Sang-woo has significantly higher status and power over Ali when he does not. The misuse of the term, in this case, ultimately has implications of the difficulties that Ali will have endured in Korea. Ali represents the many South Asian workers who have faced exploitation and discrimination in South Korea. Amnesty International has published several articles on issues with migrant labour in South Korea. In 2009, they published a report entitled Disposable Labour: Rights of Migrant Workers in South Korea.11 The report outlines the exploitation of migrant workers in South Korea. Many

Figure 9.4 Ali calling his fellow contestants ‘sajangnim’, in Squid Game (2021).

Interculturally Speaking 129 migrant workers work long shifts over 12 hours, 7 days a week. They are lucky to have one day off per month.12 They live in squalid conditions, and any overtime that they work goes unpaid.13 Their employers have little sympathy if they are ill or injured, and they often verbally or physically abuse their workers. Female migrant workers also face sexual abuse and exploitation.14 Migrant workers report that their Korean counterparts encounter far fewer of these issues: Korean workers get more time off and they get paid overtime.15 What is more, migrant workers receive inadequate support from government institutions. Migrant workers, who may not be able speak Korean fluently, lack access to interpretation services. Amnesty International reports that language barriers and a lack of will or patience means labour offices are more likely to back an employer when complaints are raised.16 Authorities often suggest that migrant workers drop their complaints and apologise to their employer, or ask them to sign a release form.17 Korea’s Employment Permit System functions in such a way that leaving a job could result in a migrant’s deportation.18 As such, migrant workers live at the mercy of their employers. For this reason, many migrant workers suffer in silence, as they have no other viable choice. Ali’s continued use of the polite address term sajangnim, therefore, is demonstrative of more than just the fact that his Korean is not fully fluent. Sajangnim is a word that migrant workers living in factories will have learnt to appease their bosses. In Squid Game (2019), we see Ali’s boss being abusive towards him. It is implied that Ali will have learnt the term sajangnim to placate his bosses’ sense of Korean superiority just to live without any conflicts. When Ali meets older Korean men in the Squid Game arena, he then addresses them as sajangnim to gratify them in a manner that betrays how Korean people look down on migrant workers. Rather than being an amusing quirk, Ali’s use of address terms highlights serious underlying issues in Korean society. South Korea is a country that places a lot of emphasis on one’s race. In a survey looking at the ‘most important defining criteria of self-identity’ by country, 23% of South Korean participants responded that ‘race or culture’ was the most defining aspect in their eyes.19 South Korea had the highest response rate for this option. The global average for ‘race or culture’ was 8%. Other options included ‘national citizenship’, ‘being a world citizen’, ‘local community’, and ‘religious tradition’. South Korea’s focus on race likely engenders some of the discrimination that migrant workers face there. This is well demonstrated in Squid Game (2019).

K-Wave Fandom Communication Intercultural communication also takes place online. The internet allows us to connect with people all around the globe. Often, we use the internet to connect with family, friends, and work colleagues, but some people also use the internet to connect with fellow fans. In the world of K-content, fans of K-pop idols, K-actors, K-dramas, and K-films connect with each other online. Internet culture is an intrinsic part of belonging to a K-fandom. Fan sites upload pictures

130 Interculturally Speaking of K-idols on their Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr pages. Fan translators post translations of idols’ social media posts, interviews, and television appearances on various platforms. Fans discuss their opinions on the latest happenings in the K-world on Twitter, and much more. To highlight just how global K-fandoms are, the top ten markets tweeting about K-pop in 2020 were (1) Japan, (2) USA, (3) Indonesia, (4) South Korea, (5) Philippines, (6) Brazil, (7) Thailand, (8) Malaysia, (9) Mexico, (10) India.20 From a small subculture popular only in Asia, K-content has exploded in popularity all over the globe. Twitter plays a central role in K-fandom discussions, allowing for ease of exchange between many fans at a time. K-fandoms are equally important to Twitter. In 2021, #KpopTwitter generated over 7.8 billion tweets.21 19 out of the 30 most retweeted tweets come from K-pop boy-group BTS’ account.22 Twitter even has a dedicated K-pop team, led by Head of Global K-pop Partnerships, Yeonjeong Kim. On Twitter, K-fans discuss a range of topics related to the K-wave, including Korean culture. They use their own online language, creating a shared sphere of culture between Korean and non-Korean fans. For example, certain emojis take on a unique significance in the K-fandom. For example, the blue heart emoji indicates a fan of BTOB, because their official colour is sky blue. Cherry Bullet fans use cherry and pistol emojis to refer to the K-pop girl group, and Twice is represented by a lollipop. BTS is signified by a purple heart. Fans have even taken to saying, ‘I purple you’, meaning ‘I love you’, because BTS member Taehyung once said ‘Purple is the last colour of the rainbow colours so it means I will trust and love you for a long time’. Being a fan of any form of K-content or K-celebrity necessarily requires fans to come into contact with the Korean language. As a result, fans begin to mix words from the Korean language into their social media communication. It is not uncommon to see a K-fan refer to an idol as oppa or unnie in a comment on an idol’s social media post. Words like daebak 대박 (amazing), saranghae 사랑해 (love you), neomuhae 너무해 (that’s too much) can all be found in K-fans’ social media posts. Korean emojis, like ~, ㅋㅋㅋ, ㅠㅠ, ^^ can also be found mixed into posts and comments that are otherwise written in English. ~ and ^^ are used in other parts of Asia too, particularly Singapore and China, but it is not too far a stretch to presume that while some of these tweets come from those living in Asian countries, some also come from those living outside of Asia. Interestingly, K-fans tend to make up their own ways of romanising Korean words. There are many romanisation systems that can be used to write Korean using the Latin alphabet, including Revised Romanisation and McCune-Reischauer, but K-fans choose their own spellings regardless. Table 9.1 demonstrates some of the differences. The romanisations that K-fans create tend to be more friendly to the English speaker, as English is the lingua franca of the Internet.23 Unnie and hyung look much more friendly to an English speaker’s eye, than eonni, ŏnni, hyeong, or hyŏng, which require specialist knowledge of how to pronounce oe or ŏ. Romanised Korean words received a ‘survival of the fittest’ treatment, with the spelling that is friendliest to fans’ eyes surviving.

Interculturally Speaking 131 Table 9.1 Address-term romanisations versus fandom romanisations Terms

Meaning

Revised romanisation

McCuneReischauer

Fandom romanisation

언니 형 누나 막내 아저씨 아줌마 선배 후배 아이구

Older sister Older brother Older sister Youngest Mr Mrs Senior Junior Oh no

eonni hyeong nuna magnae ajeossi ajumma seonbae hubae aigu

ŏnni hyŏng nuna mangnae ajŏssi ajumma sŏnbae hubae aigu

unnie/unni hyung noona maknae ahjussi ahjumma sunbae hoobae aigoo

The dynamic interaction between international fans and the Korean language demonstrates how Korean is becoming a language of the world. Typically, Koreans think of their country and language as being homogenous and relatively introspective, but the K-wave and Korea’s continued economic success means that it is now becoming an important country on the global stage. If uses of the Korean language do not solely stem from Korea, then the forces influencing the development of the Korean language have become international. As such, the very nature of the Korean language is fundamentally changing. This actually means that understanding of Korea and its culture is growing, although greater intercultural understanding is still needed. Before our eyes, what it means to be a ‘Korean speaker’, what it means to be a ‘Korean’, and the meaning of ‘Korean language’ is transforming. Although it may not seem like much in this ever-globalising world, the fact that so many people are discussing Korean culture all over the world in a language other than Korean is a big milestone for Korea, which has been slowly but steadily asserting its place on the international stage. The lines between what is ‘Korean’ and what is ‘global’ are blurring, indicating a move towards greater international translingualism, transnationalism, and transculturalism. Korean culture now goes beyond traditional ‘koreaness’ and includes a lot of outside influence too.

Summary Intercultural communication is more important, and more common, than we may initially realise. The more varied a cultural understanding that we can have, the more we can better interact with people in our lives. The more that K-fans understand about Korean culture, the more that they will understand the clever nuances and humour that is hidden beneath the subtitles in K-content. Films like Minari (2020) serve as important reminders that diaspora members make up a country’s culture just as much as those living in the country proper. One country’s culture comprises a lot of diversity, and diaspora culture is an important element of that. Korea has typically seen itself as a homogenous country, but this is rapidly changing. Media that better represents Korea’s foreign population will soon be needed,

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as Korea becomes more and more multicultural. Korea will also need to face how to deal with Korean hierarchy and politeness rules when non-Koreans are involved in a situation. This will facilitate greater ease of intercultural communication.

Notes 1 Brown, L. Korean Honorifics and Politeness in Second Language Learning. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2011. 2 Yonhap. “Number of Foreigners Staying in S. Korea Decreased 3.9% in 2021 Amid Pandemic.” The Korea Herald, January 26, 2022. www.koreaherald.com/view. php?ud=20220126000736. 3 Ibid. 4 Ministry of Justice. “체류 외국인 현황.” 국가지표체계, July 26, 2022. www.index. go.kr/potal/main/EachDtlPageDetail.do?idx_cd=2756. 5 Ibid. 6 Larmer, Brook. “South Korea’s Most Dangerous Enemy: Demographics.” The New York Times, February 20, 2018. www.nytimes.com/2018/02/20/magazine/southkoreas-most-dangerous-enemy-demographics.html. 7 Kiaer, Driggs, Brown, and Choi. “Ideologies in Second Language Learning.” 1–21. 8 외교부. “다수거주국가.” 외교부. Accessed November 9, 2022. www.mofa.go.kr/ www/wpge/m_21509/contents.do. 9 Kiaer, J. Learning Beyond Words. Multilingual Matters, Forthcoming. 10 Jung, E. Alex. “Did You Catch the Translation Joke in Okja?” Vulture, June 29, 2017. www.vulture.com/2017/06/okja-did-you-catch-the-joke-for-korean-americans.html. 11 Amnesty International. Disposable Labour: Rights of Migrant Workers in South Korea. London: Amnesty International Publications, 2009: 53–68. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. 17 “South Korea: End Rampant Abuse of Migrant Farm Workers.” Amnesty International, October 19, 2014. www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2014/10/south-korea-endrampant-abuse-migrant-farm-workers. 18 Ibid. 19 “Global Citizenship a Growing Sentiment among Citizens of Emerging Economies: Global Poll.” BBC World Service. BBC, April 2016. https://3ng5l43rkkzc34ep72kj9as1wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/2021BBC_GlobeScan_Climate_Polling_Oct21_Press-release.pdf. 20 Kim, Yeonjeong. “#KpopTwitter Achieves New Record of 6.7 Billion Tweets Globally in 2020.” Twitter, February 4, 2021. https://blog.twitter.com/en_us/topics/ insights/2021/kpoptwitter-achieves-new-record-of-6-billion-tweets-globally-in-2020. 21 Kim, Yeonjeong. “#KpopTwitter Reaches New Heights with 7.8 Billion Global Tweets.” Twitter, January 27, 2022. https://blog.twitter.com/en_us/topics/insights/2022/-kpoptwitterreaches-new-heights-with-7-8-billion-global-tweets. 22 Oladele, Bashirat. “K-Pop Culture: The Power of 6.7 Billion Tweets • Container Magazine.” Container Magazine, June 28, 2021. https://containermagazine. co.uk/k-pop-stan-culture-the-power-of-6-7-billion-tweets/. 23 Richter, Felix. “Infographic: English Is the Internet’s Universal Language.” Statista Infographics. Statista, February 21, 2022. www.statista.com/chart/26884/ languages-on-the-internet/.

10 Women’s Words

Prior to the Joseon dynasty, Korean men and women were fairly equal. Women in the Goryeo dynasty (918–1392) split their inheritance equally with their brothers and possessed a high degree of liberty in decision making.1 A husband would often go to live at his wife’s house after marriage, and as women remained close to their brothers, if desired, a divorce was fairly simple, without many major negative social or economic consequences.2 Moreover, widowhood was not stigmatised, and a woman in the Goryeo dynasty could easily remarry.3 This all changed in the Joseon dynasty as Neo-Confucianism gained more and more currency in the top echelons of Joseon dynasty. By the 17th century, women’s lives had been transformed. They could no longer inherit wealth, they could not show their faces in public, and they could only go out at certain times. Men and women were strictly separated, even in their own homes. Women were expected to deal with the internal affairs of the house, whilst men were expected to handle all external affairs. In general, women were expected to be subordinate to men, and diminish their presence to be as small as possible. In the modern day, Neo-Confucianism and Joseon societal norms no longer exist, but echoes of their existence still linger in contemporary South Korea.4 Evidence that women are still expected to show subordinance exists in the language that women are expected to use. It is impossible to say that women speak in one way, and men speak in another. However, if we look at the standards that women must live up to in order to be seen as graceful and feminine, then we see that women are expected to use certain verbal and nonverbal behaviours that show subordinance.

A Woman’s Work Never Stops Except When Eating As the popularity of Neo-Confucian ideology grew during the Joseon dynasty, many Neo-Confucian texts were translated from Chinese characters into hangeul (the Korean alphabet). Admonishment for Women (Naehun) was written by the mother of King Seongchong (1457–1494), Queen Sohye, who is also called Queen Mother Insu. Written in 1475, this was the first book composed for women in hangeul. Queen Sohye published this book to make an important piece of literature accessible to women who typically did not learn to read Chinese characters DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-11

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as middle- and noble-class men did. Naehun prescribed strict rules for the ideal woman. The following extract demonstrates just how heavy the expectations placed upon women were during the mid and late Joseon dynasty: The virtue of a woman is not about being brilliant in her ability and intellect and isn’t about her eloquence. Appearance is not about being pretty. Achievement is not about being better than others. It is about being clean and quiet, right and stable, behaving appropriately, and not acting shamefully. Movement should be appropriate for setting. This is a woman’s virtue. Being able to speak appropriately, yet not speaking harshly. Thinking deeply, without making people feel uncomfortable. That is a woman’s words. Washing dirty things and wearing clean clothes, and washing frequently so as not to leave the body unclean. That is the woman’s appearance. Working hard for needlework and not enjoying playing or laughing, and serving guests well with food and rice wine. That is a woman’s achievement. . . . Confucius said, ‘Women should not do things according to their own thoughts. There are three ways they should follow. Before they are married, they should follow their father’s will. When they are married, they should follow their husband’s will. When their husbands die, they should follow their son’s will. They should never follow their own will’. They should not let the commands of the family head go out of the house. Their work never ends except when eating. Women should never do anything of their own will and should never decide anything on their own. In whatever situation, they should act only when they know everything that is going on. They should only speak when they have personal experience to contribute. They shouldn’t lay about in the yard in the daytime. When they walk around in the evening, they should bring a lamp. This is the way to keep the virtue of a woman.5 Kiaer and Driggs’ translation in Kiaer and Yates-Lu (2019) As you can see, the ideal woman according to Queen Sohye was one who was reserved, quiet, tidy, clean, and hard working. Women were expected to always be working, apart from when eating. In terms of speech, Naehun told women not to talk much and not to rock the boat with what they say. Naehun demonstrates that women were expected to be subordinate and diminish their presence so as not to disturb the men around them. Talking too much was even one of the ‘Seven Evils’ (chilgeojiak 칠거지악 七去之惡), a list of reasons for which a husband could divorce his wife (and not vice versa). As such, language and society’s expectations of women have been intertwined since the mid-Joseon period. Pachinko (2022) demonstrates how Neo-Confucian ideals were adapted to suit Korea after the annexation. Sunja, a young woman born in the 1910s, faces numerous hardships under Japanese rule. After her father dies from tuberculosis, Sunja is raised by her mother alone. Together, she and her mother run the lodging house that they inherited from her grandparents on her father’s side. In doing so,

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Sunja learns how to deal with affairs that would have typically been deemed the matters of men during the Joseon dynasty. When she later moves to Japan with her husband, she continues her enterprising ways. When she finds out that her brother-in-law is in debt, she pawns an expensive watch that she received from a rich lover back in Korea. When her brother-in-law loses his job, Sunja takes to the streets to sell kimchi. In this way, Sunja became a breadwinner for the house, as she began to deal with affairs external to the household to support her family. Nonetheless, her unrelenting work effort calls back to Naehun’s idea that women should work tirelessly. Were Sunja to have parents-in-law that needed looking after, then she may not have been able to devote so much time to earning for her family. Free from this burden (unlike Kim Ji-young, as we will see later), Sunja was able to become the anchor of the family, bringing everyone together.

Linguistic Inequality In the modern day, Korean society is no longer explicitly Neo-Confucian. Women receive inheritances, are no longer confined to their houses, and can go out and work as they please. This does not mean, however, that there are no lingering sentiments from Joseon society. There are several sayings that still exist in Korea now that paint women in a negative light. For example, ‘If three women get together, then a dish will be broken’ (yeoja sesi moimyeon jeobsiga ggaejinda 여자 셋이 모이면 접시가 깨진다) is a common saying in Korean. It paints women out to be squabbling troublemakers who should not be left to their own devices. Another common saying is, ‘If a hen crows, the household is ruined’ (amtalgi ulmyeon jibani manghanda 암탉이 울면 집안이 망한다). The ‘hen’ in this proverbial expression refers to the woman of the family. The implication is that when a woman voices her opinion and intervenes in the family affairs, nothing will turn out well. Such sayings and their related misogynistic sentiments perhaps go to explain why women’s voices are far less heard in Korean society than men’s. 100 Minute Debate is the longest running panel debate show in Korea, which has run from 1999 to the present. Regular hosts and invited panellists discuss a variety of topics including reunification, national security, politics and election, real estate, and economy. Of the show’s 15 regular hosts, only two have been women, and they only appeared on the show for a very short time. Over the past 20 years, only 10.6% of panellists were women on average. In 2017, only 5.7% of panellists were women, but this rose sharply to 20.5% in 2021 – though this number is still low. The lack of women appearing on this show is no coincidence. The numbers provide insight into who Korean people believe to be knowledgeable and worthy of speaking on serious matters. Women’s voices are seen to hold less weight, while men are deemed worthy of speaking about important topics. This calls us back to the saying, ‘If a hen crows, the household is ruined’. We saw the idea that a ‘good woman’ is silent in Naehun, and the seven evils back in the Joseon dynasty. We can also find similar sentiments in Kim Ji-young: Born 1982. In a flashback to Ji-young’s childhood, we see Ji-young and her older sister

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playing together, discussing where they want to travel in the world. Ji-young’s sister starts tickling her and Ji-young starts squealing because she is ticklish. Hearing this, their grandmother comes into the room and tells them to stop being so loud. She tells them that women should be quiet, calling the girls ‘jijibae’ 지지배, which is a derogatory term for girls. She then asks them to go and help their mother prepare food. A few seconds later, Ji-young’s younger brother runs past screaming and their grandmother does not bat an eyelid (Figure 10.1). This scene was set some time in the 1980s, showing how women were still expected to be quiet and reduce their presence almost 100 years after the fall of the Joseon dynasty. Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019) and 100 Minute Debate show that Korean society has not changed as much as one might think since the Joseon dynasty. Women speaking out has long been seen as a disgraceful action, and even though Park Geun-hye was the first woman in Korea to become president, there is still far to go. Women’s voices are not given enough platform. When women discuss important issues, they are hardly paid attention to. There is still far to go before women’s voices hold the same weight as men’s in South Korea.

The In-Law Burden The diminution of women’s voices happens not only in public spaces, but also in private ones. This is particularly true when married women are with their in-law family. Women are expected to be placid, attentive, polite, and composed around their in-laws, so as to appear the ‘ideal wife’ in their eyes. Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019) demonstrates this in both Ji-young’s generation and her mother’s generation. In the same flashback to Ji-young’s childhood, Ji-young’s mother sits silently as her mother-in-law complains that Ji-young’s mother should have another son,

Figure 10.1 Ji-young’s younger brother runs around screaming without any repercussions.

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Figure 10.2 Ji-young’s mother holds her tongue.

and that Ji-young should grow up to get married. Ji-young and her sister pluckily defend themselves, saying that they will look after their mother when they grow up. As they are children, they can afford to be cheeky. Ji-young’s mother, however, is under pressure to seem deferential towards her mother-in-law, and so she says nothing. She observes the conversation, holding her tongue, as a filial daughter-inlaw would do (Figure 10.2). Similarly, when Ji-young goes to visit her in-laws during the holidays, Jiyoung and her mother-in-law prepare food, whilst her husband and father-inlaw sit on the sofa. Ji-young sits with a small, narrow posture, answering ‘ne’ 네 (yes) politely to everything that her mother-in-law says to her. When Jiyoung’s husband comes over complaining that they should have ordered food rather than made it, Ji-young keeps her head down and does not say a word. When her husband goes to the sink to help wash the dirty dishes, Ji-young hurries over and whisper-shouts at him to go away. In this situation, there is no space for Ji-young to express her real self. She has to become a meek and subservient housewife, exclusively using jondaemal and polite body language so as to persuade her in-laws to see her in a favourable light. During the Joseon dynasty, women typically managed the internal affairs of the household, including cooking. Although the internal and external affairs of a household are no longer strictly separated, it is still tradition for the women to cook during family holidays. This tradition is infamously burdensome on Korean women: married women must do all the cooking and serve the entire family and extended relatives under the command of their mother-in-law. Burnout from the stress of holiday periods is so common that it has been termed myeongjeol jeunghugun 명절 증후근 (post-holiday syndrome).

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Overall, the echoes of Neo-Confucianism that exist in South Korea mean that women reduce their presence and voice. Neo-Confucian ideals in Joseon Korea asserted the ideal woman as elegant, unphased, in control, and reserved. In contemporary Korea, this means that women are expected to speak using jondaemal and maintain neat body language, far more than men. In Kim Jiyoung: Born 1982, the unfair pressures on women in Korean society contribute to her postpartum depression, ultimately worsening her condition. Ji-young is pushed into a corner because she has to look after her child, as well as taking care of her parents-in-law. She has a very unhealthy relationship with her mother-in-law, who sees Ji-young mostly as free labour. Such troubles still exist in South Korea to this day.

Every Household Should Have Four Sons For a long time in Korea, having a son, rather than a daughter, was seen as more desirable. Before the 1960s, it was common for couples to have lots of children. Then, when food shortages began in the 1960s, the media began to promote having smaller families and the government began to introduce birth control measures. Korea News published an article stating, ‘We must give birth to our children appropriately and raise them well. If you secretly give birth, then you will not be able to avoid poverty’. A 1964 edition of the Korea News proclaimed that women should not ‘suffer by giving birth’.6 Instead, the issue suggested that they should ‘give birth to fewer children and raise them well’.7 The government opened public health centres and initial-family planning clinics to provide free contraception. With worsening food shortages, the messages got even stronger in the 1970s, with one issue of Korea News stating, ‘There are many people in our country who have had too many children and are unable to escape poverty because of the false notion that having food is a given’.8 During the Joseon dynasty, it was still seen as favourable to give birth to a son because Joseon society was heavily patriarchal, but when having several children began to be discouraged in the 1960s and 70s, people began to wish one of their few children to be a son. Of course, by the 60s, the Neo-Confucian order, as it was during the Joseon Dynasty, no longer existed. Nonetheless, the expectation that a daughter-in-law would serve her in-laws still existed. Having a son who was married was seen as a way of securing care in one’s old age. Having a daughter who was married meant giving her up to her husband’s parents. A daughter would not be able to see her parents much, even during festivities, because she would have to look after her parents-in-law instead. Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019) demonstrates the pro-son sentiments. In one scene, Ji-young, her mother, two grandmothers, and brother and sister are sitting and eating a meal together. Ji-young’s grandmother (on her father’s side) complains to Ji-young’s mother, ‘A family should have four sons. I really hope that you’ll have another son’. Ji-young’s mother doesn’t respond, but Ji-young’s older sister interjects, ‘Our uncles hardly ever come to see you, so why do you like sons so much?’ Ji-young then adds, ‘I am going to be filial to my mother’, much to her grandmother’s dismay. This scene takes place in the 1980s,

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demonstrating how pro-son sentiment was strong at the time, even though the Joseon dynasty was almost a century gone. This, however, is changing. As of 2008, a majority of parents said that they would prefer to have a daughter over a son. 37.9% of mothers said that they would prefer to have a daughter, 31.3% chose a son, and 30.8% said no preference. 37.4% of fathers chose daughters, 28.6% chose sons, and 34% had no preference. This survey came over a decade after the equalised-inheritance system was written into Korean civil law. Before the 1990s, siblings did not receive equal inheritance. This stemmed from the inheritance system standardised in the latter part of the 17th century whereby the eldest son would inherit property. It also stemmed from a switch from all siblings holding memorial services for their ancestors on a rotating basis, to the eldest son alone holding the services. In 1977, remnants of this system meant that siblings inherited unequally with the ratio of inheritance for the eldest son, other sons, unmarried daughters and married daughters being 1.5:1:0.5:0.25 respectively. This changed again in 1990 when the inheritance system was equalised so that all siblings would inherit the same amount, no matter their gender. Further equality in families was achieved when hyoju 효주 was abolished in 2008. The hyoju system made men the head of a family. It meant a system of patrilineal inheritance in which a father would be succeeded by his first son, rather than his wife. When a couple has a child, the children are added to the father’s family register, and even if a couple divorces, the children keep the father’s name and remain on his family register. This cannot be changed without the father’s permission. In 2008, the Constitutional Court ruled the hyoju system unconstitutional. They changed legislation so that women have the right to register as head of the family as well. The new ruling has increased women’s standing in divorce and child-custody cases. The abolition of the old hyoju system demonstrates a shift towards greater gender equality in South Korea, although there is still far to go.

Socioeconomic Stakes Are High The only means by which a woman can overcome the lingering Neo-Confucian ideals that promote deference is via socioeconomic status. In many contexts, the person with the most education, wealth, or experience will take a position of seniority in an interaction. This is the case regardless of age or gender. When a woman is wealthy, she receives different treatment and faces different expectations. She is not entirely free from the weight of Neo-Confucian ideals, but there is much more wiggle room. A married woman of high socioeconomic status will often be addressed as samonim 사모님, which could be translated literally as affluent wife. Due to her socioeconomic status, the samonim is able to express herself in a more assertive manner, and she is allowed to take up space in a manner that the ajumma may not be able to. Mrs Pak in Parasite highlights this. As a stylish wife in a wealthy family, Mrs Pak is an archetypal samonim. Mrs Pak is not so dissimilar from Kim Ji-young in the sense that she is a mother of a similar age. They even look and dress somewhat similarly. Yet, the two are a world

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apart when it comes to how they communicate because of their vast difference in socioeconomic status. Mrs Pak’s socioeconomic status allows her freedom in her interactions with Mr and Mrs Kim, who are older than her, and Kevin and Jessica, who are more educated than her. When Mrs Pak is instructing Mrs Kim on how to set up for her son’s birthday party, Mrs Pak assumes a posture that only a samonim could. She leans on the countertop in a relaxed manner, making broad hand gestures and direct eye contact with Mrs Kim, who is a generation older than her. In this scene, it is Mrs Kim who has to maintain a compact posture and listen attentively. The only reason that Mrs Pak can behave like this is because she has higher socioeconomic status. Were Kim Ji-young talking to Mrs Kim, then she would assume a similar posture to the one she assumed around her mother-in-law: compact posture and little eye contact. Mrs Pak assumes a similarly relaxed posture when interviewing Kevin (or Kiwoo). Although Kevin is younger than Mrs Pak, he is more educated, and he is someone from whom Mrs Pak is requesting a service. As a result, you might expect Mrs Pak to communicate with him in a respectful and appeasing manner. This is, however, not the case. Though Mrs Pak speaks in jondaemal to Kevin, she also mixes English words and phrases into her sentences. Speaking English holds strong social currency in South Korea, and thus, Mrs Pak’s words serve to remind Kevin of her own education. Mrs Pak sits boldly holding her fluffy lap dog. She makes no effort to diminish her presence or make Kevin feel at ease. She can do this because of her high socioeconomic status. If Ji-young were seeking a tutor for her daughter, she would likely be very deferential, using honorific language, as well as bowing, avoiding eye contact, and maintaining a neat posture. Ji-young would never mix English into her sentences, as it would seem too insincere. Mrs Pak is free from the fear of these negative judgements because of her socioeconomic status. During the Joseon dynasty, Korea’s social hierarchy was based upon class: there was the nobles, the middle class, working class, and outcasts. Although the class system has long since been abolished in South Korea, a new system has emerged. One’s place within the capitalist system now informs which rung of the hierarchical ladder one is on. Age still plays a role, but wealth and education

Figure 10.3 Mrs Pak leans casually while talking to someone older than her.

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Figure 10.4 Mrs Pak talking to Kevin with a casual posture.

are equally important. Just as a young person of the noble class would have had higher status over an older peasant during the Joseon dynasty, a young person with high socioeconomic status may hold a higher status over someone older but less educated or wealthy. Women hold a unique space because they are subject to harsher expectations than men. Even though Mrs Pak is not free from the NeoConfucian expectation of elegance and calmness, she is able to assert more dominance than most women can because of her status. In comparison, Kim Ji-young, who is of relatively average social status, constantly has to restrain her verbal and nonverbal behaviour so as to avoid conflict.

Does Language Make Society Unequal or Does Society Make Language Unequal? It might surprise you to hear that people have been advocating for more equal language in Korea since the turn of the 20th century. When the Joseon dynasty fell, the class system was abolished, and some saw that as the opportunity to rid the language of its hierarchical nature too. One notable advocate was Pak Seungbin, who was born in Gangwon-do in 1880, now 140 years ago. He believed that Korean language should drop its rigid system of politeness: Since ancient times, the Korean language has had a special kind of class system, it is a product of the past that is useless in the face of the needs of modern society, for which an equal society is the aim.9 Pak believed that the unequal ways that Korean people spoke to each other was hindering Korean society. As a linguist questioning how Korea could best move forward, Pak believed that throwing off the yolk of Neo-Confucianism could help Korea down the path to modernization. One of his main concerns was that Korea had

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no equivalent to the universal Mr or -san of English and Japanese. He thus proposed that the suffix -ssi (씨) be used, added to people’s names as an indiscriminate form of address. -ssi (씨) is typically added to the end of women’s names, but Pak suggested all should be referred to as name-ssi to achieve some form of universal address term. He also advocated that children be spoken to politely as well. Evidently, Pak’s vision of the future was not realised. The Korean language has continued to highlight Korea’s hierarchical structures. The question arises, then, as to whether Korea’s hierarchical society makes the Korean language hierarchical, or if the Korean language being hierarchical makes Korean society hierarchical. This really is a chicken-and-egg style question. Language and society are linked in such a way that they constantly influence each other. Language takes time to change, and society must be seeking something different for any kind of change to come about. The ways that women are expected to use language betrays the underlying prejudices that women face in Korean society. Such prejudices are pressing and require a shift in linguistic norms. In the current moment, millennials and Generation Z are indeed looking for change. Many young people are more relaxed about address terms, and often initiate using banmal in online spaces. Older generations are more rigid in their thinking and are less receptive to suggestions of change. However, if issues of gender and age disparity are not addressed, then they could lead to greater issues of disparity in Korean society as a whole. Now is the time to start having constructive conversations about making society more equal. South Korea is in need of Pak Seungbin-style change.

Notes 1 Deuchler, M. “Propagating Female Virtues in Choson Korea.” In D. Ko, J. Haboush, & J. Piggott (Eds.), Women and Confucian Cultures in Premodern China, Korea, and Japan (pp. 142–169). Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2003: 143. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4 Kiaer and Shin. A Linguistic Image. 5 Yates-Lu, Anna, and Jieun Kiaer. Korean Literature Through the Korean Wave. Abingdon: Routledge, 2019. 6 대한뉴스 454호, 1964년. 7 대한뉴스 456호, 1964년. 8 대한뉴스 854호, 1971년. 9 Pak, Seungbin. “씨’ 문제.” 매일신보, 1920: 16.

Epilogue

When people think about the Korean peninsula, their minds are often drawn to the north-south divide. Little do they know that there is a more sinister divide lurking in South Korean society: the banmal/jondaemal divide. Banmal 반말 refers to casual speech, whilst jondaemal 존댓말 denotes formal and honorific speech; all speech registers in Korean language can be categorised as either banmal or jondaemal. On the surface, banmal and jondaemal might not seem anything insidious, but in reality, the existence of these two types of speech can cause chaos, and banmal is primarily to blame. On the one hand, banmal is the language of solidarity, intimacy, and closeness. Using banmal with your close circle indicates that there is no need for social graces; there is an implicit level of familiarity implied within the speech style. On the other hand, banmal is the language of disdain, jibes, and insults. Using banmal, as opposed to jondaemal, implies that you look down on someone. As such, banmal can be degrading, diving people rather than uniting them. Banmal causes so many issues that related disputes are commonly reported in the news. Many service industry workers are affected negatively by banmal. Older men in particular tend to look down on service workers and speak to them rudely, using banmal. A recent report by the Chosun Ilbo described an altercation between a young service worker in his early 20s and a man in his 70s.1 When the older man entered a convenience store to buy cigarettes, he asked the younger man, the cashier, the price using banmal. The cashier replied, ‘20,000 won’, without adding any jondaemal politeness markers. The older man immediately responded, ‘Why are you using banmal? I’m older than your father!’ implying that the cashier should have used jondaemal to show respect for his age. The cashier replied, ‘Because you used banmal first!’ The enraged older customer replied with an onslaught of swearing and namecalling. This altercation resulted in a lawsuit. The younger cashier sued the older man for defamation. The older man was found guilty, but he appealed the decision, claiming that no one had overheard the altercation, so it could not be classed as defamation. The court ultimately overruled his appeal, as the shop door was open and so people outside of the store heard his insults. The older man was ordered to pay the younger man 500,000KRW as compensation. Cases like this are not rare in South Korea. Altercations between young DOI: 10.4324/9781003227625-12

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people working in the service industries and older men in their 60s and 70s are reported in the news every few weeks. Older men in Korea are so concerned with receiving the right respect that they have even committed murder over the use of banmal.2 Issues with banmal even seep into the top levels of Korean governance, where politicians are often seen arguing over the use of banmal rather than policy issues.3 Munhwa Ilbo has found that workplace harassment has been experienced by over a third of cleaners, caretakers, and facilities workers.4 They also find that 63% of nurses have experienced verbal abuse, as well as 12% of graduates. Over the years, there have been many reports of caretakers who work in luxury apartments committing suicide because of the abuse they receive at work. Workers are now trying to fight back. Some cafes even have signs stating, ‘If you use banmal, you will receive banmal in return’. The use of banmal in Korea has gone too far. Even though the class system of the Joseon dynasty was abolished during the Gabo reforms of the late 1800s, a new economic form of classism has emerged, which takes socioeconomic status as its foundation. This has been the root of many bosses abusing their employees, incidences of which are known as gabjil 갑질. As previously discussed, the most infamous gapjil incident is known as the nut rage scandal, whereby Korean Air’s Vice President raged at a flight attendant for serving her nuts in a bag rather than a bowl, and ordered the flight to return to the airport so he could be removed. Overall, the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy is hugely powerful. It is creating deep divides in South Korean society, meaning these speech styles may be doing more harm than good. Although speech styles might seem harmless, they can be destructive or even cruel in some situations. It is impossible to know whether the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy is responsible for the hierarchical rift in Korean society, or if Korean society is responsible for the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy: that is like asking whether the chicken or the egg came first. The reality is that society feeds language and language feeds society in a dual feedback loop. It is my opinion that the issues caused by speech styles in Korea are so severe that we cannot sit around and wait for language and society to evolve over time. This has become an issue that needs a linguistic intervention. It is my hope that by changing our language habits, South Korea would be able to change its social norms gradually too. In Korean textbooks, the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy is often simplified into being an issue of politeness. It is for this reason that many people have the impression that Korea is a polite and mannerly country. As this book has shown, describing the banmal/jondaemal dichotomy as an issue of politeness is an injustice. For this reason, I have entitled this book More than Polite. As much as banmal and jondaemal can be used for positive communication, there is a darker sinister side to the dichotomy that must be considered too. Korean hierarchical language is a cultural code that is multi-faceted and complex. Non-Korean speakers might not realise that it is difficult even for Korean first-language speakers to use banmal and jondaemal appropriately. Korean people constantly have to navigate the two speech styles to avoid disaster.

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Notes 1 양 은경. “‘왜 반말해’ 편의점 20대 알바에 욕설한 70대, 2심도 벌금형.” 조선일보. 조선일보. Accessed November 9, 2022. www.chosun.com/national/court_law/2022/08 /28/5KER5YSNMNCTLP3VELTK5EJM4Q/. 2 유정 정. “‘넌 생각이 없냐’ 반말이 부른 모멸감 . . . ‘을들의 죽음’ 내몰아.” Munhwa, 2021. www.munhwa.com/news/view.html?no=2021072201030821339001. 3 “‘야, 너 뭐라 했어’···오늘 국감도 반말·고성.” YouTube. 중앙일보, October 8, 2019. www.youtube.com/watch?v=tu750Y3XgrI. 4 유정 정. “‘넌 생각이 없냐’ 반말이 부른 모멸감 . . . ‘을들의 죽음’ 내몰아.”.

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Filmography Bong, Joon-ho. Okja. Netflix, 2017. Bong, Joon-ho. Parasite. Barunson, 2019. Choi Hyung-in. Running Man. SBS, 2010-present. Episode 390. Chon, Justin. and Kogonada. Pachiko. Apple TV+, 2022. Chung, Lee Isaac. Minari. Plan B Entertainment, 2020. Han, Jun-hee. DP. Netflix, 2021. Hwang, Dong-hyuk. Squid Game. Netflix, 2021. Im, Sang-soo. The Housemaid. Mirovision, 2010. Kim, Do-young. Kim Ji-young: Born 1982. Spring Wind Film Company, 2019. Kwak, Kyung-taek. Friend. Korea Pictures, 2001. Roach, Jay. Meet the Parents. TriBeCa Productions, 2000. SBS TV. Same Bed, Different Dreams 2, 2017–present. Shin, Won-ho. Hospital Playlist Goes Camping, 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=zr7WB3lS3ao&list=PLvRi4hnUzW2hzt0XwnbpghFv3ZEaNF8lQ. Yoon, In-shik. Extraordinary Attorney Woo. Netflix, 2022.

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News Articles “‘Gapjil’ and the Rage of Korean Air’s Daughters: Knowing Korea.” 2018 [online]. Accessed August 4, 2022. www.knowingkorea.org/contents/view/166/Gapjil-and-therage-of-Korean-Air-s-daughters. “Global Citizenship a Growing Sentiment among Citizens of Emerging Economies: Global Poll.” BBC World Service. BBC, April 2016. https://3ng5l43rkkzc34ep72kj9as1-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/2021BBC_GlobeScan_Climate_ Polling_Oct21_Press-release.pdf. “한국인이 가장 많이 사용한 앱은 카카오톡, 37억분 사용.” Platum, March 9, 2016. https://platum.kr/archives/56223. Yonhap. “Number of Foreigners Staying in S. Korea Decreased 3.9% in 2021 amid Pandemic.” The Korea Herald, January 26, 2022. www.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud= 20220126000736. YTNnews24. “‘사랑해요. 한국!’ . . . 유럽에 부는 ‘한국 붐’/YTN.” YouTube, June 29, 2014. www.youtube.com/watch?v=CP5cFDgG0LI. 서 지윤. “삼성전자 ‘상호 존댓말 쓰기’ 직원들 반응은?” 스토리오브서울, April 3, 2022. www.storyofseoul.com/news/articleView.html?idxno=10100. 송 진원. “안희정에게 보낸 애교 이모티콘 . . . 법원 ‘의미 없는 습관적 사용’.” 연합뉴 스, 2019. www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20190202032100004. 송 형. “과장·차장 계급장 떼고 . . .’김프로’‘박프로’로 불러주세요.” [online] 한경닷컴, 2021. Accessed April 6, 2022. www.hankyung.com/economy/article/2021111632151. 양 은경. “‘왜 반말해’ 편의점 20대 알바에 욕설한 70대, 2심도 벌금형.” 조선일보. 조 선일보. Accessed November 9, 2022. www.chosun.com/national/court_law/2022/08/ 28/5KER5YSNMNCTLP3VELTK5EJM4Q/. 외교부. “다수거주국가.” 외교부. Accessed November 9, 2022. www.mofa.go.kr/www/ wpge/m_21509/contents.do. 정 유정. “‘넌 생각이 없냐’ 반말이 부른 모멸감 . . . ‘을들의 죽음’ 내몰아.” Munhwa, 2021. www.munhwa.com/news/view.html?no=2021072201030821339001. 이 석희. “툭하면 나오는 단골 막말싸움, ‘당신!’ ‘어린 것이!’ [레이더P].” 매일경제, 2021. www.mk.co.kr/news/politics/9877739. 장 지훈. “초·중·고교생 71.8％ 평소 ‘급식체’ 쓴다.” 이린이조선일보, 2017. http://kid. chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2017/12/14/2017121402286.html.

Index

Note: numbers in bold indicate a table. Numbers in italics indicate a figure on the corresponding page 100 Minute Debate 135, 136 address, modes of 31–48; address terms, importance of 33–34, 37–38; address terms in Parasite 36, 37, 38; address terms in Squid Game 39–40; address terms and their usage 47; ajumma vs samonim 44–46; ambiguities in 32; embodied learning and 47–48; to friends and family 31; gganbu and 47–48; job titles and 41–42; lack of proper names in Korean (structural identification over individual identification) and 32; linguistic capitalism and 44–46; linguistic injustice and 43; Nunchi and 34; secondperson pronoun problems and 46–47; seonsaengnim, use of 42; social tuning and 34; suffixes: a/ya, nim, ssi 39; oppa, new meanings of 40–41; tuning and retuning awareness of which terms to use 48; using kinship terms with non-kin 35; visual scanning and 34 address terms and their usage 47, 48 address terms, importance of 33–34, 37–38 address terms in Parasite 36, 37, 38 address terms in Squid Game 39–40 affluent wife see samonim ajumma (middle aged woman) 9, 34, 44–46, 131, 139; samonin vs 44 ajusshi or ajussi (middle aged man) 9 Amnesty International 128, 129 Animoji 65, 68 avatars 65 ‘background check’ 57–60 baekkeobinsa (belly-button bow) 86, 92

Bak: as surname in Korea, commonality of 58 banmal 14–15, 21; among family members 53; challenges and pitfalls of 54–55; in DP 111, 111, 112; in Extraordinary Attorney Woo 113; family members’ use of 125; friends, use with 96; gapjil and 102–103; –handayo style and 70; inefficiency of 15, 103–104; joendaemal sentence compared to banmal sentence 98; jeondaemal vs 28–29, 41, 62, 63, 70, 95, 109–110, 143–144; Kim Ji-young, use in 97; K-media and 96–97; Korean National Assembly, controversy over use of 104; N400 effect from incorrect usage of 54; Parasite, use in 97, 98, 101–102, 104; people fighting, use between 97; in Running Man 53, 53; sketch engine search of word in Korean Corpus 99; school vs workplace use of 55–56; social hierarchy in Korea and 144; social tuning required to navigate 14; Squid Game examples of 56–57, 57; subtitles and 104–105; in Workman, The 52, 61; workplace use of 99–102, 102–103; young people in online settings, use of 142 banmal mode see banmo banmo neologism 60–61 Bible translated into Korean 104 body language 14, 81–94; bowing, meaning of 86–88; East Asian gestures, moving away from 90; eye contact, meaning of 83–86; nodding, meaning of 88; nonverbal expressions in orchestration 90; posture, meaning of 88; scratching one’s head, meaning of 88; silence, meaning of 89–90

152

Index

Bong Joon-ho: as ‘Director Bong’ 42; Okja 126–127; Parasite 3, 13, 18, 45; on one-inch barrier 3, 4; realism of films directed by 6 bowing, meaning of 86–88 BTS see K-pop casual and formal speech styles between characters in Parasite 38 casual body language 91, 141; bow 92; male 84, 86, 90, 91 casual pronoun: na 117 casual speech 11, 14, 69; moving from polite speech to 51, 53; see also banmal; emojis; stickers casual speech style 19, 20, 21, 95; between friends 46 cheomin (social outcasts) 44, 106 class group chat 77, 95 class hierarchy in Korea 140–141 classism, economic 144 class system in Korea 44, 106–107, 140–141, 144 class year (school), mode of address based on 110, 114 closed captioning (CC) 10 commoner greeting man of nobility 106; see also sangmin; yangban deaf audiences: closed captioning and 10 diaspora: Asian 83; Korean 10, 14, 15, 59, 120 diaspora communities 33, 34, 122–123; interaction with Americans 123–124; interfamily issues among 125–126, 131; see also Minari (film) DP (Korean television show) 111, 111, 112 East Asian gestures, moving away from 90 embodied learning 17; gganbu as example of 47–48 emoji 14, 65–68, 92; animated 68; court cases, use in 73; formal work chats, use in 71; friend, suitable for 76; gender and 77–79; group chat conventions for 77; K-fandom use of 130; Korean language (hangeul) alphabet as 68, 130; older people, suitable for 75; politeness and (case study) 74–77; as verb (‘to emoji’) 65 emoji keyboard 67 emoji speak 65, 66 emoticons 73 eomeoni or eomma (mother or mom) 12, 33–35; as address term 35, 37; as kinship term 35, 37

eomeo-nim (mother) 39 eonni 8, 35; as address term 41, 96, 121, 130, 131; as kinship term 114; in OED 42; Parasite, use of term in 37–39 -eun/-neun particle 21–22 eung 69, 70, 71; silent 27 Eun-yi see Housemaid, The Extraordinary Attorney Woo 59, 111–113, 113 eye contact, meaning of 83–86 family members: banmal, use among 125 fandom romanization 130, 131 filial piety 126 Five Relations (neo-Confucian) 107 foreign voices/foreigners in Korea 128–129; see also loanwords formal speech 106–119; calling individuals by their names 110; East Asian Address Terms in 113; jondaemal in 109; jondaemal in the military and 111; jondaemal in Extraordinary Attorney Woo 111; politeness in 107; translation and 116; workplace changes and 118 friend: banmal use among 96; casual speech between friends of different ages 50; chingu (friend, in Korean) 14–15, 53; close 48; emojis suitable for 75, 76, 77, 79; gganbu 48; kinship terms for non-kin, including 35; Korean system of address terms for 31–32, 36, 47; neo 46, 47; online 60; Running Man example of speech between 53; secondperson pronouns including conversation between 46; speech style used with 19, 21; texting (KakaoTalk) 79 Friend (film) 90, 91 friendly: being too friendly 31; consonants (eung; piup) 69; context 22; jondaemal as being 110; k-fan romanisation as being English-speaker friendly 130; manner 52, 58; spelling 8; see also banmal ‘friendly’ as word 109 gabjil or gapjil 144; banmal and 102–103 Gabo Reforms 44, 144 gapjil see gabjil Generation MZ (Gen MZ) 119 Generation Z (Gen Z) 60–61, 119, 142 gganbu, awareness of 47–48 Gi-hun (fictional character, Squid Game) 43 Google Translate 116, 116 Goryeo dynasty 133 group-chat convention 77

Index half-talk 29, 95; see also banmal half-talk shift 56, 61–63 Hallyu 4–6, 9; in OED 8 Hallyu! The Korean Wave exhibition, V&A xiii, 1, 6 –handayo style 69–70 hometown relations 58 honorific address terms 40, 42 ‘honorifics’ as word 109 honorifics, use in Korean language of 61–63, 140; emojis and 76; gestural 93; -nim ending 35; -ubnida ending 69 honorific particles: -ggesseo 112; -nim 35, 112; -ssi 112 honorific speech registers 113, 116 honorific speech style 11, 19, 29; nonhonorific styles 29; rudeness, potential for 95; situations involving 21; see also jondaemal honorific title 45 honorific verbal particle 22 Hospital Playlist Goes Camping (K-drama) 26–27, 27 Housemaid, The (film) 14, 83–85, 85, 87, 87, 88, 90 hubae 58, 131 Hwang: as common Korean surname 58 hyeong or hyung (older brother): as address term 41, 121, 130, 131; hierarchy and 41; as kinship term 35, 114; K-fan’s use of 130 hyeong-nim 39 hyo (filial piety) 126 hyoju system 138 hyong see hyeong intercultural conversation 120–131; Americans, interactions with 123–125; cross-cultural space and 126–128; diaspora communities and 122; foreign voices in Korea 128–129; interfamily issues and 125–126; K-Wave fandom and communication 129–131 interfamily issues 125–126 James Garth Scale 105 Jeong: as common Korean surname 58 jijibae (derogatory term for girls) 136 joendaemal sentence compared to banmal sentence 98 jeondaemal vs banmal, jeondaemal/ banmal divide 28–29, 41, 62, 63, 70, 95, 109–110, 143–144 job titles 41–42 Joseon Daily 99

153

Joseon dynasty 42, 44, 107, 133–141, 144 Jung: as common Korean surname 58 jungin (middle class) 44, 106 K-, meaning of 1–2 KakaoTalk instant messaging 67–68, 68, 70, 76, 79 K-beauty 4, 5, 7 K-content 3, 129 K-drama 1, 4, 5, 6, 13, 33, 48; banmal in 105; bowing and nodding in 83, 86; dangsin used in 46; Hospital Playlist 26; language learning via 47; in OED 8; online vectors of connection for 129; subtitles, limitations of 56; see also Extraordinary Attorney Woo Kendon, A. 93 keubsikjche style 70 keunjeol (big bow) 86 K-fandom 7–8; communication and internet culture of 129–131, 131; globality of 130 K-fashion 5 K-films 1, 4, 5, 13, 33, 83, 86, 104, 105, 129; see also Minari; Parasite Kim: as surname in Korea, commonality of 58 Kim, Alan Hyun-Oak 63 kimbap 8, 112–113, 113 Kim family see Parasite Kim Ji-eun 73 Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (film) 138–141; average social status of Kim Ji-young and 141; banmal used in 97, 104; Cho Nam-joo’s novel 13; eye contact, examples of 83–86, 84, 86; in-laws and unfair pressures on women in 136–138; nonverbal communication in 14; speech style switching in 104; subtitling in 104; younger brother screaming without repercussion 136; women and gendered expectation of communication in 14–15; women and gendered expectations of work in 135–136; women’s voices, diminution of 136–137 kinship terms used with non-kin 35 K-media: banmal and 96–97 Konglish 8, 13 Korean Air nut rage incident 144 Korean Diaspora and non-native Korean speakers 60 Korean language: curiosity in 6–7; nonnative speakers of 60; Pak’s calls for reform of 46; see also pragmatics

154

Index

Korean National Assembly: banmal controversy in 104 Korean Wave (K-Wave; Hallyu) 1–2, 4, 6; exhibition in London 1, 5–6, 6; fandom communication 15, 129–131; gganbu, awareness of 47–48; minari (plant), awareness of 123; OED and 7–9; oppa, change in usage due to 40; translation 47 K-pop 4, 5, 6; #KpopTwitter 9, 130; BTOB 130; BTS 4–5, 10, 130; Cherry Bullet 130; fans 8, 9, 129; Iz*One 52 K-Tweets 9–10 K-Wave see Hallyu; Korean Wave Kwak Kyung-taek (fictional character) see Friend language and inequality 141–142 Lee, Iksop, and Ramsey, S. Robert 29, 61 Levinson, Stephen C. 62 linguistic capitalism in Parasite and Squid Game 44–46 linguistic discrepancies related to women 43–44 linguistic inequality and women 135–136 linguistic injustice 43 loanword (English) 24 loanword dictionary, English to Korean 23 marriage 12, 133 marriage migrants 120, 122 McCune-Reischauer system xiv, 130, 131 McNeill, David 93 Meet the Parents (film) 30 Memoji 65, 68 military, banmal and language use in 111 millennials 119, 142 Minari (film): awards won by 4, 123; diaspora in American culture 131; diaspora family as depicted in 122; intercultural communication represented in 123–124; interfamily issues and translanguaging in 125; minorities’ use of language in 15 misogyny 135–136 modes of address see address, modes of N400 effect 54 Naehun (Admonition for Women) 133–135 names in Korean, calling individuals by 110 negotiation and negotiating 50–61; background check 57–60; Korean Diaspora and non-native Korean speakers 60; negotiation theatrics 51; school vs the workplace, changing

speech styles 55; speech style, changing 55; wrong tuning, consequences of 54–55; speech style shifts in Squid Game 56–57; online 60 negotiation tactics 51 Neo-Confucianism 15, 17, 133 nodding, meaning of 88 nonverbal behaviour 81–84, 107, 110; in DP 111; in Okja 127; subordinance in 133 nonverbal communication 11–14, 17, 97; East Asian gestures as 90–93; emojis and 75; in Friend (film) 90; in Housemaid 87, 88, 90; importance to Korean speakers 81–82, 82, 83–84; language stylistics and 28; negotiation and 51; in orchestration 90; in Parasite 37, 38, 141, 141; silence and 90 nonverbal expressions 82, 87 nuna 8; as address term 41, 114, 121; as kinship term 35, 96; in OED 33; revised romanization of 131 nunchi 34 Okja (film) 126–127 online negotiation 60 oppa 9; as address term 41, 121; English translation as ‘brother’ 35; English translation as ‘old man’ 10; among friends 96; as kinship term 35, 114; new meanings of 40–41; in OED 33, 42; in reference to a K-pop idol 130 Pachinko (novel and television show) 5, 13, 15, 134–135 Pak family see Parasite Pakistani migrant worker see Squid Game paksanim 55 Pak Seungbin 142, 143 Parasite (film) 13–14; address terms in 36, 37; ajumma figures in 45, 139; banmal in 15, 97, 98, 101–102, 104; bathroom set, exhibition at V & A of 5; BBC coverage of 42; casual and formal speech styles in 38; English language as a social asset in 24–25, 41; gapjil conflict in 102–103, 103; incorrect expressions of interpersonal relations examined in 18; kinship terms used with nonkin in 35–36; language stylistics in 28; linguistic capitalism in 44; nonverbal communication in 12; Oscar won by 1, 4; scratching of head, examples of 88–89, 89; socioeconomic

Index status in 16, 139–140; subtitling of 3; younger boss and age-related dynamics in 101–102, 102 Park Geun-hye 136 Park (Mrs.) see Parasite people fighting, use of banmal between 97 physical distance 62 Please Look After Mom (Shin) 33 politeness 62 posture, meaning of 88 pragmatic conflict 117 pragmatic expressions 82, 82 pragmatic meanings 33 pragmatics, Korean 48, 50, 56, 60, 121 pragmatic stylists 21 private speech 95–105; age in relationship to 96; banmal and 96–101; banmal inefficiency and 103–104; gapjil and 102; friendship in relationship to 96; subtitles and 104 pronouns: first person 98, 115, 117; inputted vs outputted 117; mismatched pronouns and speech styles 116; second person 14, 32, 46, 115, 117 psychological distance 62 Psy (Korean singer) 22–23 Queen Mother Insu 133 Revised Romanisation system xiv, 130, 131 Roach, Jay see Meet the Parents Running Man (Korean variety show): banmal in 53, 53 Ryus from Pungsan 59 sajangnim used in Squid Game 40, 43, 128, 129 Same Bed, Different Dreams (Korean television show) 100 sangmin (commoners, labourers) 44, 106 samonim: in Parasite 37, 139–140 samonin vs ajumma 34, 44–46 Sang-woo (fictional character, Squid Game) 39–40, 43, 128 school-meal style 70 scratching one’s head, meaning of 88 sebae (ritual bow) 86, 92 second-person pronoun problems 46–47 sentence endings 19–20, 21, 70–71, 117, 117; banmal or jondaemal 97–98, 110; see also speech endings seonbae 58, 114, 131 Seongchong (King)

155

seongsangnim 42–44, 47, 55; as polite mode of address 43; ssaem as short form of 43 Seoul: Extraordinary Attorney Woo set in 111; Gangnam district 23; wife from 33 Seoul 1998 Olympics 5 Seoul High Court 73 Seoul National University 54 ‘Seven Evils’ 134 Shin Kyung-sook 33 silence in Korean, meaning of 90 social hierarchy in Korea 144 social inequality and language 133, 141–142 social media endings 69–70 social media and social media stylistics 65–79; emojis and gender 77; emojis and politeness: case study 74; emoticons 73; group-chat convention 77; phrases commonly used on 69; texting in Korean, basics of 67–69; texting in Korean, history of 66; stickers with text 70–73; punctuation 73 social stereotypes of immigrants in 128–129 social tuning 34, 61, 119, 121; consequences of incorrect 54; nunchi and 34; required to navigate banmal 14; visual scanning and 34 Sohye (Queen) 133 Song Kang-ho 42 sons, status tied to and obligation to have 138–139 Squid Game (television show) 13; Ali Abdul and immigrants in Korea 122, 128–129; banmal 56–57, 57; English subtitling of 10; ggangbu used in 47–48, 48; hyeong used in 39–40; influence and global success of 4, 5, 6; interculturality in 128–129; Pakistani migrant worker (Ali Abdul), mode of address used by 39–40, 128; sajangnim used in 40, 43, 128, 129; seongsangnim used in 43; social stereotypes of immigrants in 128–129; speech style shifts in 14, 56–57; wealth bias explored in 44 speech endings: suffixes 39; Parasite as example of 98; three levels of (-ubnida (honorific), -yo (polite), and the casual form with no -upnida or -yo ) 69 speech styles 21; changing 55; formal and polite (honorific) 29; intimate and plain (non-honorific) 29; in Squid Game 56–57

156

Index

statistica.com 23 stickers with text 70–73 subordinance, subordination: age and rank 22; deference distinct from 93; posture used to express 88; of women 133–134 subordinacy: intimacy and 37, 63; kinship terms and 37 subordinates 29; banmal usage among 55 subtitles: banmal and 104–105 suffixes: a/ya, nim, ssi 39 texting in Korean: basics of 67–69; history of 66; stickers with text 70–73 transcription 10 transculturalism 60, 131 translanguage 124, 125 translation joke 127 translingualism 23, 27, 60, 131 transnationalism 69, 131 tuning see social tuning Twitter see K-pop; K-tweets unni (elder sister) 8, 9; as address term 130, 131; in OED 33 Vangelisti, Anita L. 93 visual scanning 13, 34, 50, 92 wealth bias 44 women and women’s communication in Korea 10, 133–142; conversation between a man and a woman 78; conversation between two women 78;

Five Relations rules for 107; in-law burden of 136–138; KakaoTalk use by 67; linguistic discrepancies related to 43–44; linguistic inequality and 135–136; as marriage migrants 120, 122; misogyny directed toward 135–136; nonverbal behaviour expections imposed on 84; sons, status tied to and obligation to have 138–139; social inequality and language 133, 141–142; socioeconomic stakes related to 139–141; subordinance expected of 133–134; as wife, mother or daughter 33; see also ajumma; Extraordinary Attorney Woo; Kim Ji-Young: Born 1982; noona; unni women’s names: -ssi added to end of 46 Woo Young-woo (fictional character: Extraordinary Attorney Woo) 59, 111–113, 113 Workman, The 52, 61 workplace use of banmal 99–102, 102–103 yangbang 44, 106 yeon (relationships) in Korea 57–58 Yi: as surname in Korea, commonality of 58 Yi Jonggeuk 23 yiju yeoseong (migrant wives) 122 -yo ending 61 young people in online settings, use of banmal 142; see also emojis Young-woo see Woo Young-woo (fictional character)