By Mark Peterson
My attitude about Korean-Americans has changed over the years. When I first encountered Korea, living there, I met people who wanted to go to America "by hook or by crook."
And indeed, many were able to cobble together reasons to get a visa to visit America, and then they disappeared or overstayed their visas, but eventually ended up gaining American citizenship. I thought the whole enterprise was corrupt and I wanted to have nothing to do with it.
I felt that a good Korean should be patriotic and loyal to Korea. I felt a desire to stay in Korea and do what I could, in my work in the field of education, to help Korea to develop. And indeed, I arranged through various opportunities to live in Korea for a total of 15 years.
I was doing what I could do to help Korea to build and develop, and I did not appreciate those Koreans who "ran off" to America or other countries, and I really didn't like people who came to me to ask for me to help them get to America.
I was absolute death on those who wanted to emigrate, legally or illegally ― especially for those who would emigrate by some illegal scheme or other. Korea in the mid-60s was desperately poor. Per capita income was $125 per year.
Some people could barely get enough to eat, and housing was inadequate and dangerous. Dangerous? Heating was by coal briquettes where the smoke from burning the coal wound its way through flues under the floor. But if the clay flooring cracked and the smoke leaked into the room, it was usually not heavy smoke, but the odorless carbon monoxide that would poison the residents of the room.
I lost a good friend to the "yeontan" smoke in 1968. And I had another class friend who came home from a trip to Busan and intended to go straight to work, but somehow, a little voice in his head said "go home" and he did, only to find his wife unconscious from the carbon monoxide. He rushed her to the hospital and she recovered.
There were other factors of public health. I had a friend killed in an automobile-pedestrian accident. Another friend drowned. Traffic was chaotic and dangerous. Seat belts? Unheard of. And society was chaotic in many ways. There was no queuing up for the bus. People of "higher status," in their own minds, thought they should get on the bus first. And getting on the bus was a scene of pushing and shoving. Disorderly.
Many students I knew were majoring in economics. It seemed that everybody knew that there was a way forward and that they should study something that would help the country to develop.
Everyone knew that America and Japan were countries where people were well off. And everyone had hoped that Korea would catch up. There was no question about it. Korea would become a wealthy country, and a well-off country, like Japan and the United States.
I felt like I was part of the "hope." I felt like my contributions in religion and education were part of the building of Korea. So, when people came to me and spoke of going to America, I didn't think well of them. Especially if they had an illegal strategy in mind.
But I've changed. I like my Korean-American friends. All of them. I don't look at their visa status. I don't look at their bank accounts or the car they drive. Korean-Americans look at the car the other drives. There's a kind of "status chase" that I don't like ― often measured by the car one drives.
Strangely, the car one drives says something about the Korean-American's standing. Most strange, in my view, is that attitude of many Korean-Americans who will purchase a Japanese car. I drive two Korean-made cars ― a Hyundai Sonata hybrid, and a Kia van (grandma's van). I tease my Korean-American friends that "I am a patriot."
But the large number of Korean-Americans first buy an inexpensive Japanese car, and then a better Japanese car, and then a German-made car. Those of you who know Korean-Americans know that this is an odd phenomenon.
I feel a strange pity for some of my Korean-American friends because many of them are not as "well-off" as the friends and family they left behind. Some would have been better off had they stayed in Korea.
At this stage of life, I see everyone has struggles, especially with this virus that has impacted all of us. Some who spent all their efforts to make money have seen family failures and heartache that has made them re-think their values. Some who have failed to make a lot of money have been blessed with loving family relationships.
Mark Peterson (markpeterson@byu.edu) is professor emeritus of Korean, Asian and Near Eastern languages at Brigham Young University in Utah. The views expressed in the above article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.
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And indeed, many were able to cobble together reasons to get a visa to visit America, and then they disappeared or overstayed their visas, but eventually ended up gaining American citizenship. I thought the whole enterprise was corrupt and I wanted to have nothing to do with it.
I felt that a good Korean should be patriotic and loyal to Korea. I felt a desire to stay in Korea and do what I could, in my work in the field of education, to help Korea to develop. And indeed, I arranged through various opportunities to live in Korea for a total of 15 years.
I was doing what I could do to help Korea to build and develop, and I did not appreciate those Koreans who "ran off" to America or other countries, and I really didn't like people who came to me to ask for me to help them get to America.
I was absolute death on those who wanted to emigrate, legally or illegally ― especially for those who would emigrate by some illegal scheme or other. Korea in the mid-60s was desperately poor. Per capita income was $125 per year.
Some people could barely get enough to eat, and housing was inadequate and dangerous. Dangerous? Heating was by coal briquettes where the smoke from burning the coal wound its way through flues under the floor. But if the clay flooring cracked and the smoke leaked into the room, it was usually not heavy smoke, but the odorless carbon monoxide that would poison the residents of the room.
I lost a good friend to the "yeontan" smoke in 1968. And I had another class friend who came home from a trip to Busan and intended to go straight to work, but somehow, a little voice in his head said "go home" and he did, only to find his wife unconscious from the carbon monoxide. He rushed her to the hospital and she recovered.
There were other factors of public health. I had a friend killed in an automobile-pedestrian accident. Another friend drowned. Traffic was chaotic and dangerous. Seat belts? Unheard of. And society was chaotic in many ways. There was no queuing up for the bus. People of "higher status," in their own minds, thought they should get on the bus first. And getting on the bus was a scene of pushing and shoving. Disorderly.
Many students I knew were majoring in economics. It seemed that everybody knew that there was a way forward and that they should study something that would help the country to develop.
Everyone knew that America and Japan were countries where people were well off. And everyone had hoped that Korea would catch up. There was no question about it. Korea would become a wealthy country, and a well-off country, like Japan and the United States.
I felt like I was part of the "hope." I felt like my contributions in religion and education were part of the building of Korea. So, when people came to me and spoke of going to America, I didn't think well of them. Especially if they had an illegal strategy in mind.
But I've changed. I like my Korean-American friends. All of them. I don't look at their visa status. I don't look at their bank accounts or the car they drive. Korean-Americans look at the car the other drives. There's a kind of "status chase" that I don't like ― often measured by the car one drives.
Strangely, the car one drives says something about the Korean-American's standing. Most strange, in my view, is that attitude of many Korean-Americans who will purchase a Japanese car. I drive two Korean-made cars ― a Hyundai Sonata hybrid, and a Kia van (grandma's van). I tease my Korean-American friends that "I am a patriot."
But the large number of Korean-Americans first buy an inexpensive Japanese car, and then a better Japanese car, and then a German-made car. Those of you who know Korean-Americans know that this is an odd phenomenon.
I feel a strange pity for some of my Korean-American friends because many of them are not as "well-off" as the friends and family they left behind. Some would have been better off had they stayed in Korea.
At this stage of life, I see everyone has struggles, especially with this virus that has impacted all of us. Some who spent all their efforts to make money have seen family failures and heartache that has made them re-think their values. Some who have failed to make a lot of money have been blessed with loving family relationships.
Mark Peterson (markpeterson@byu.edu) is professor emeritus of Korean, Asian and Near Eastern languages at Brigham Young University in Utah. The views expressed in the above article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.
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