Welcome, Cultivated Reader!
If you’re reading my essays explicitly declaring, “I’m going to write about Korea,” you’re probably someone genuinely curious and open to learning about other cultures. You’re likely well-educated, thoughtful, and eager to explore the world beyond your own borders.
Because you’re thoughtful and educated, if you’ve ever read online or heard news stories about Korean students spending nearly every waking hour—often sacrificing sleep—to study for university entrance exams, you probably thought something like: “Are they crazy? Isn’t this child abuse?”
It’s understandable you’d think that way, as such behavior indeed defies common sense and can border on child abuse.
The Question: Are South Koreans Truly Heartless?
Are Koreans really so ruthless and indifferent to their children’s well-being that they push them relentlessly, oblivious to their rights or happiness?
The answer, of course, is no. Korean parents love their children fiercely—arguably more passionately than parents anywhere else. So, what’s going on here? Why the contradiction?
Over the next few weeks, I’ll explore the deeper historical, cultural, and societal forces that have shaped this uniquely Korean phenomenon. By diving into the context, we begin to understand why something that seems irrational from the outside is, within Korea, often considered unavoidable.
Why Deep Understanding Matters
We humans are complex, contradictory beings. Despite our contradictions—or perhaps because of them—we continue to care for and love each other. But what exactly makes us love someone?
There are many possible explanations, but I believe that understanding breeds empathy, which in turn fosters love. It’s often our understanding of these contradictions that allows us to connect, empathize, and love deeply. We form strong connections with family, friends, and lovers precisely because we know their complexities—their strengths, flaws, contradictions, and vulnerabilities.
Think about your favorite book or movie. How do you know who the protagonist is? Typically, it’s the character you learn the most about—their history, struggles, dreams, and inner conflicts. The more you know about a character, the deeper your empathy becomes. You root for them precisely because you understand them.
The same goes for our relationships with countries and cultures. We hold complex feelings—love and frustration, pride and disappointment—towards our own countries precisely because we know them intimately. We know their histories, triumphs, and tragedies.
The Purpose: Beyond Love, Toward Understanding
My goal in writing about Korea isn’t necessarily to make you fall in love with it. Instead, my main purpose is for you—the thoughtful reader—to learn from Korea’s strengths while also recognizing its shortcomings as cautionary lessons.
Another important goal is simply to foster understanding. I’d like readers outside Korea to better grasp why Koreans behave as they do—not necessarily agreeing with all their decisions or actions—but at least understanding the circumstances behind them. Understanding doesn’t require agreement; it’s simply recognizing that there are reasons behind people’s actions.
Once you start viewing another culture through this lens of understanding—”Ah, that’s why they’re like that!”—this mindset naturally transfers when encountering other cultures as well. You’ll find yourself increasingly curious about people who differ from you.
Ultimately, the more cultures you explore with openness and curiosity, the richer and broader your life becomes.
So, Let’s Begin: How Old is Korea?
When we first meet someone, we subtly gauge their background through their age, experiences, or the era they grew up in. Countries, like people, carry the weight of their history.
Korea’s history stretches back thousands of years. The earliest known Korean state was Gojoseon (Ancient Joseon). While its exact founding date remains debated among historians, it’s generally agreed that it emerged during the Bronze Age around 2333 BCE.
From Gojoseon onward, numerous kingdoms rose and fell on this peninsula—splitting apart, merging together again, and sometimes disappearing altogether. I can’t possibly cover all of Korean history here. Instead, I’ll start from a pivotal turning point: the transition from Goryeo (918–1392) to Joseon (1392–1897).
This particular historical shift will help explain how Koreans came to internalize deeply within their cultural DNA a belief that “success depends entirely on doing well on exams.”
I’ll tell you more about this fascinating story in my next post.
