Week 3: Post your Blog Entries as Comments to my Main Post Each Week

Post by Sunday at Midnight.

1. Mark Whitaker

2. Korean Modernization, "Second Generation" Research Style

3. This is an excerpt from a book that the class would be interested in reading at some point I imagine. It is a case study of 'second generation modernization studies' for Korea.

On Friday, we discussed how it moved from a research about 'timeless, abstact hurdles' to cross like "tradition" that was assumed to be completely shared by all people in a country, to viewing it in a more complicated mixed tradition where there were different traditions and responses within a country to Western influence depending on different positions in that society.

Internal barriers fall internally and psychically on the one hand. On the other hand, internal traditions become cultural ways that can be used to assemble support for 'modernization' domestically.

This seems to me a case of internal culture slowing falling away: it talks about how western haircuts and western clothing became first a major political act in Korea though soon became just another status item among a slowly growing middle class during the colonization period.

(The second article talks about the same with Tonghak. Another example of internal cultural variety of responses would be how some sponsored Western ways as mechanisms of political change, and others chose to adapt Christianity for Korea. This is the Tonghak, a native "Korean version" of Christian sentiments with its similar radical equality issues that went against Confucian hierarchies and facilitated the silent grievances of a massive peasant rebellion. You could think of Chondogyo as well in this fashion. I will mostly talk about the clothing and haircuts in my comments here.)

If you are interested in the second generation modernization point of view, perhaps some of you would do a paper on Tonghak or Chondogyo. Just a suggestion.

Clothing and haircuts are a nice example of the "3M" issue I mentioned, linking micro and macro issues with certain research materials. In this case link them in specific research materials and the mechanisms that are cross-culturally common. The politics of clothing and haircuts in late 19th century Korea soon ceased to be political and started being seen as 'neutral status of affluence' emblem instead. I'm sure there is more contention about this change than is mentioned in this short essay.

Note which groups in Korea started this: the Korean court, the Japanese envoys, the Japanese tailors in Inchon, and the pro-Japanese Korean Enlightenment Party, and the Korean middle classes during the colonial era. Western clothing didn't really become the majority public style in Korea until after the Korean War.

All in all, an interesting essay on the politics of clothing and haircut changes in late 19th century and early 20th century Korea and Japan.

This was posted at Korea Times.

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(498) Suitable Attire

A tailor's shop for Western suits on a Jongno street near the Bosingak Belfry in downtown Seoul during the period of Japanese colonial rule. Tailor Lee Doo-yong opened the shop in 1916. / Korea Times File

By Andrei Lankov
Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul. He has recently published ``The Dawn of Modern Korea," which is now on sale at Kyobo Book Center and other major bookstores. The book is based on columns published in The Korea Times. He can be reached at anlankov@yahoo.com.



Korea, like most countries in East Asia, embraced the Western suit with great enthusiasm. Every Korean urban street during rush hour testifies to the tremendous popularity enjoyed by suits and neckties which over the last few decades have become the uniform of the Korean middle class ― that is, of a majority of Korean males.

But only 130 years ago, the arrival of a Japanese envoy dressed in a Western suit was seen by Korean officials as an absolutely scandalous act.

By dressing themselves in the manner of the ``barbarians,'' the Japanese dignitary denigrated himself and could not be seen as a civilized human being any more!

Back in the 1880s-90s, donning a Western suit was more a political statement than a fashion statement. By choosing the dress of the ``overseas barbarians'' over traditional attire, a Korean made it clear to everybody that he was on the side of modernity and Westernization, that he was against tradition and conservatism.

The young officials and students who were dispatched by the Korean government to Japan in the early 1880s were also the first to dress according to the then current Western gentlemanly fashion.

Some people insist that the most prominent leader of the reformist party, Kim Ok-kyun, was actually the first Korean to don such attire in public. There are other candidates, too, but all of them were members of the same faction of reform-minded young officials, which was known as the Enlightenment Party.

Incidentally, the sewing machine appeared in Korea before the Western suit.

In 1877 a sewing machine was bought from some Westerners by a prominent Korean diplomat Kim Yong-won who was visiting Japan.

The sewing machine enjoyed great popularity, and until the 1960s remained a prestigious symbol, a sign of family affluence.

Its prominence was important: with the exception of Western suits, most of the dress worn by Koreans until after the 1950-53 Korean War was home-made.

For Korean women a sewing machine was a great laborsaving device, and it is not surprising that they took it so seriously.

Until the mid-1890s a Korean man in a suit remained an unusual sight on Seoul's streets (and there were virtually no women in Western dress until 1900). The situation changed in 1895 when the surviving members of the Enlightenment Party came to Seoul again.

This time, they were backed with the power of the Japanese army and formed a puppet government. There was not much soul-searching, however, since in those times the reformers still saw Japan as a protector rather than as an aggressor.

One of the first laws issued by this new government was the notorious ``haircut act,'' which prohibited the traditional Korean topknots and required all males to cut their hair in Western style. Riots and strikes ensued, and the law was soon abolished.

As a part of the reform package, in 1895, a Western-style uniform was introduced for cadets in the military school. They were soon followed by soldiers and officers in the regular army.

From 1899 the Korean King Gojong (officially known as emperor by that time) began to appear in public clad in a Western-style military uniform, and from 1900 the official dress of civilian bureaucrats also was changed to a form of the Western suit.

This was not incidental: by promoting Western attire for the bureaucracy and military, Gojong and his advisers made clear that they favored modernization, and were ready to part with the Confucian past.

And where were these Western suits tailored? By 1900, Seoul had a number of tailors who specialized in this type of dress. Most of them were Japanese, which is not surprising: Japanese tailors were ubiquitous in the entire East Asia and the Pacific in the early 1900s.

Incheon, the major sea gate of the Korean capital, became the first place in Korea where visiting Westerners and Japanese (as well as adventurous Koreans) could order Western-style suits.

A Japanese tailor named Suenaga opened his shop there in 1884.

Five years later, another Japanese tailor, by the name of Hanaka, began to ply his trade in Seoul, thus starting an industry, which is still flourishing today.

Korean tailors appeared a bit later, in 1895 when Paek Wan-hyok opened his shop on Jongno, central Seoul. Paek made Western dress for high officials and members of the royal family.

The Western suit continued its gradual spread during the colonial era. In the 1920s-30s Western dress was a sign of affluence as well as an indication of the participation in the new, modern economy.

It was worn by teachers, bank officials, and clerical workers of all kinds ― in short, by the growing but still very small Korean middle class. In the 1890s, the Western suit was a political statement, but in the 1930s it could be seen as a status symbol and status declaration.

A vast majority of Koreans continued to don the traditional hanbok, occasionally with some Western elements (for example, many wore hanbok with a Western hat).

Only after the Korean War did men in suits and other Western attire begin to outnumber the hanbok-clad males on the streets of Seoul.

And what about women?

Until the 1950s they overwhelmingly remained loyal to hanbok, too.

Nonetheless, the first proponents of female Western dress appeared in the 1890s. They were mostly early Korean feminists, a very remarkable group.


Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul. He has recently published ``The Dawn of Modern Korea," which is now on sale at Kyobo Book Center and other major bookstores. The book is based on columns published in The Korea Times. He can be reached at anlankov@yahoo.com.



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http://koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/opinon/2008/09/165_27347.html

2.

06-12-2008 15:29
(496) Cult Worship

By Andrei Lankov

In East Asian countries, the 20th century was a golden age of the so-called ``new religions,'' a large array of strange, often bizarre ideological constructs. The ``new religions'' emerged in all countries from Korea to Japan to China.

It is easy to explain why such religious movements briefly enjoyed success in East Asia. For two millennia these countries safely, and generally quite successfully, existed in the ideological space defined by Confucianism ― not quite a religion in the Western sense, but a rather close approximation to it.

Some additional touches were added by the local variety of Buddhism (rather different from the Indian original) and assorted folk cults, which developed into Shamanism in Korea and Shinto in Japan.

However, the Western invasion resulted in the destruction of the traditional world. To many, if not most people, the old Confucian ideology looked completely discredited, since it seemed to be incompatible with the demands of the new age and also responsible for the supposed failure of East Asia to evolve and adjust.

In some cases, Christianity filled the spiritual void, but not everybody was ready to embrace the foreign teaching, especially when the West was seen as a treacherous and predatory enemy.

Hence, virtually hundreds of new religions were born, normally with some noticeable traces of Christian influence, but often with a strong nationalist background as well.

The ``new cults'' were (and still are) especially popular in Japan, so the recent Aum Shinrikyo affair, with its gas attack in the subway, was yet another reminder of this trend.

In Korea, the ``new religions'' reached the height of their popularity in the middle of the 20th century, only to wane in recent decades.

In most ― but not all ― cases, the ``new cults'' could not compete with the managerial skills, funds, and centuries-proven techniques of the Christian missionaries. They still exist, nonetheless, and the largest of them boasts up to half a million supporters.

In Korea, the most important of the new religious movements, and also the oldest of them, was the Donghak and its most popular offspring, Chondogyo (The Teaching of the Celestial Way).

Donghak emerged 150 years ago in the 1860s, being invented by an itinerant prophet named Choe Je-u. It was initially ``designed'' as a nationalistic answer to the challenges posed by the advent of Christianity.

Hence its name, Donghak or ``Eastern Teaching'' which deliberately puts the religion into opposition to Seohak or ``Western Teaching,'' the old name for Christianity.

Despite a deliberate critique of Christianity as unsuitable for Korea, the Donghak-Chondogyo heavily borrowed from its opponent. It is a monotheistic cult, which admits the existence of a unique and omniscient God.

Humans are seen as embodiments of the God, and should be treated accordingly, with the greatest respect and dignity. According to Donghak, all people are equal, and this made the teaching a natural ideology for the largest peasant uprising in Korean history.

It was after the bloody suppression of this uprising in the mid-1890s that Chondogyo leaders chose the present name for their sect, to distance themselves from all rebellious and subversive associations.

The second-largest ``new religion'' is Won Buddhism, founded in 1916 (the early 1900s was boom time for prophets). In spite of its name, and frequent use of established Buddhist expressions, Won Buddhism is not yet another sect of Buddhism, but rather an independent religion in its own right.

Less overtly political than early Donghak, Won Buddhism emphasizes moral self-development, but also self-reliant economic activity. Won Buddhism has also been very efficient in attracting supporters and proselytizing.

Currently it has a university and also a large network of welfare institutions, from kindergartens to homes for the elderly. Hence, Won Buddhism is one of the few ``new religions'' that records an increasing membership while the continual march of Protestantism and other forms of Christianity proceeds apace.

There are also a number of smaller sects, of which many belong to two major teachings ― Daejonggyo and Jeungsangyo.

Daejonggyo emerged in 1909, and it comes as no surprise to find that it contains serious nationalist elements (quite a natural thing for an ideology conceived during a period of utter national humiliation, on the eve of collapse of Korean independence).

The mythical founding father of the first Korean state, Dangun, is presented as the founder of this religion and bearer of the superior truth ― open, first and foremost, to Koreans.

In the colonial era, many Daejonggyo supporters took an active part in the resistance. It is interesting that Gaecheon Day, the Korean analogue of the Foundation Day, was first introduced by Daejonggyo and then won governmental approval as a national holiday.

Another ``new religion'' is Jeungsangyo, founded in 1901. Its founder Kang Il-sun claimed that he had discovered a way to build ``the Kingdom of Heaven on earth.'' Like early Donghak, the Jeungsangyo placed an emphasis on equality and the need for revolutionary transformations.

However, over a few decades the once powerful movement disintegrated into a dozen or so sects, each with its own peculiar cult brand, and none particularly popular.

Once upon the time, the ``new cults'' even had some impact on North Korean politics. The memories of those days are long gone, but I think this will eventually make another interesting story.

Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul. He has recently published ``The Dawn of Modern Korea,'' which is now on sale at Kyobo Book Center and other major bookstores. The book is based on columns published in The Korea Times. He can be reached at anlankov@yahoo.com.

http://koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/opinon/2008/09/165_25756.html