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| Courtesy of Kristina Tripkovic |
By David Tizzard
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Over the past few years, Korea has positioned itself as a vibe that hits different. A culturally-ascending hypermodern technical wonderland attracting young people from all over the world. A sense of pride has pushed out chests. A feeling of achievement has filled local cash registers. Young and old have smiled with a deep sense of national belonging as the news reports another Korean success on the global stage. So much so that Korean adoptees from Sweden to Boston, once afraid of the Korean heritage, have found a sense of confidence in their identity and a renewed love for their homeland.
During all this, I too shared in the joy of Korean people. Having lived here for so long, I was able to see what it meant to the citizens. It was about recognition. It was about arriving. The ruins of war and dictatorship had been overcome. It was showing the world that not everything had to be seen through the perspective of a white-tinted Hollywood camera lens. Instead, Korean directors could be the world's most famous auteurs, their pop stars the most desired artists.
Yet despite all these marvelous successes nothing has made me realize my love for the country, its people, and its culture more than when experiencing tragedies. It is when the nation's heart breaks, when the people cry in pain and anguish, when a silence descends across the cities and a tangible feeling of mourning grips society that I realize just how much I love the people here. The tears move me more than the smiles. The grief grips me more than the joy.
The big tragedies change us. The complex world suddenly becomes simple. I feel at one with the Korean people. I am more cooperative. More willing to accommodate. Filled with trust and compassion for those around me. Shared vulnerability becomes a catalyst for increased social bonding, to stand and support each other. A profound sense of togetherness takes place amidst the anguish. Our common humanity shows us our most beautiful aspects: social connection and love.
In peacetime, our societies are wracked by disunity. Differences and disagreements dominate media and discourse. Trivialities give rise to great anger and animosity. But in anguish, the most important values become obvious. In the face of disaster, things become much simpler. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish we could find the resolution, the empathy, the love, and the words for each other before the tragedy strikes. But perhaps that is our tragedy. That we only desire to come together when that which is so dear to us is sadly taken away. And once again, we have seen things so tragically taken away.
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.
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