Korean dating, YouTube videos, and daeri manjok

Modern Korean society has created a unique series of existential, psychological and economic pressures. Courtesy of Anthony Tran

Modern Korean society has created a unique series of existential, psychological and economic pressures. They are unique because although it is easy to see many commonalities in popular culture between Korea and the West, the differences that do exist are important.

The 1900s in Korea were marked by extreme tragedy and then great success at the bookends of the century. The ravages of imperialism and the forced introduction of external systems of social, political and economic control tore at the fabric of the traditional society and intensified otherwise dormant feelings of ethnic-nationalism, collective grief and unity through language and culture. Ultimately, a Korean identity was formed at this time through adversity.

Likewise, as the country created an economic middle class, its newly-minted citizens then demanded the removal of military generals, curfews and cultural repression. This fight for democracy and success in creating a new socio-political order also fostered a togetherness among the people. Whatever differences they might have had, they achieved a common goal through unity and struggle.

In the 21st century, however, Korea now has no national tragedy or national success. And this is not said disrespectfully. While politicians and sensationalists might point to the grave existential threat posed by China, Japan, North Korea, or America depending on the public mood and their need for support to bolster their own political ends, the reality is that South Korea's military and national defense is not the undertrained and underfunded institution it was when North Korea last invaded 72 years ago. Conversely, while BLACKPINK, and Squid Game are paraded across social media as a sign of the country's undoubtedly growing cultural impact, particularly in the West, considering the money spent and the stature of the nation, it is surely only right that Korea achieved such successes. It would be strange if the world's 12th biggest economy didn't occasionally do so.

With no tragedy or goal to unite the people, it is not necessarily a sense of division that is most problematic. Rather it is the downing ocean of existentialism in which people are told to be themselves and express their true thoughts while simultaneously being reminded we live in a post-truth era full of fake news and hyperbolic media. The two contradict each other alarmingly.

Speak your truth yet remember nothing is real. Be who you are but observe that all previously followed standards of family, community and religion are social constructions in the secular age. South Korean people are perhaps fortunate in that they do not yet have to contend too seriously with issues of gender and sexuality on top of this. While international students contact me with various pronouns, names, and genders they wish to be referred to as in pursuit of their own identity, a pursuit I naturally respect, such conversations have not entered the mainstream university classrooms here in Seoul yet.

Everyone has their own individual goals, of course, whether it be to promote more gender equality, expand class consciousness, champion the flourishing of the arts, or simply get a flash car to drive around Seocho. But what is the national goal? The idea of unification and peace with Pyongyang so passionately focused on by ex-President Moon Jae-in certainly had its supporters but many did not feel an affinity with the ruling class in Pyongyang or their values of control and order. The youth, in particular, are more interested in cosmopolitanism and multiculturalism than a shared 5000-year ethnic-nationalist history in which all Koreans are one blood, unified by the patriarchal "Dangun" (the legendary founder and god-king of Gojoseon, the first Korean kingdom).

Daeri manjok is a term you'll hear and see everywhere in Korea. It refers to getting satisfaction from other people doing things. It's most common manifestation is the "mukbang" trend where people watch videos and live streams of others eating. Korea Times file

With no national goal to work towards, and as it remains so terribly uncomfortable to look inside oneself for answers, a somewhat simple solution has been found in "vicarious satisfaction." "Daeri manjok" is a term you'll hear and see everywhere in Korea. It refers to getting satisfaction from other people doing things. It's most common manifestation is the "mukbang" trend through which people find comfort and solace in watching videos and live streams of others eating. It's not only found in Korea and it's not restricted to eating: there's also video games, opening boxes, listening to music and much more.

Scholars suggest that people favor these indirect experiences of eating and playing because it's more efficient than doing it directly. South Korean citizens suffer from burnout syndrome in a society characterized by intense heavy competition for jobs, money, and status. Thus, daeri manjok is quicker and cheaper than doing things yourself. It also comes in hyper-stylized slick V-logs.

The latest of these vlogs to provide the Korean youth some daeri manjok is the "e-byul" vlog. This translates to, the break-up vlog, and consists of people documenting their break-ups with their partners. Rather than actually go through the heartbreak, the passion, the confusion and the weirdness of dating, young people in Korea can now save their time, money, and ― more importantly ― their mental anguish. For the most part, these videos don't show the break-up itself but instead present the emotional fallout in super high-definition clarity, with tears, mood lighting and a lo-fi soundtrack.

The popular YouTuber Umjirella uploaded an e-byul vlog a week ago and quickly received nearly 300,000 views. But she is not alone. Pages of hugely popular videos, mostly featuring young women in their 20s, document the same romantic heartbreak. Many use the following template: The completely authentic waking-up intro shot with no make-up (honestly!), the determination to overcome the situation, the dressing-up, the going out, the release, the catharsis, and the newly-created individual, free from her partner and much richer from having earned YouTube revenue by selling emotions to those otherwise deprived of them.

Obviously, the cynic in me believes most of these break-up videos are not genuine. Instead, they are simply content creators following a cultural trend and capitalizing on people's feelings. Influencers are selling people tears and empathy in exchange for paid promotions and cultural capital. Some in Korea, however, insist they are real. Moreover, they are fun, enjoyable, and something worth watching.

Whether this new cultural phenomenon will have any impact on the world's lowest fertility rate or gender issues remains to be seen. Worryingly, it also seems to be atomizing people more and more and denying them those experiences which create a meaningful life, shaped by wisdom and connection with others.

However, that's my opinion. The South Korean youth seem to love what's happening. And it's their lives to daeri manjok however they please.

Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.