#137. 방구석 여포 -- Pick on someone your own size!

I spent my early childhood in Korea, when StarCraft and e-sports were on the rise. While I was more interested in K-pop idols such as H.O.T. and Fin.K.L. along with the other girls in my class, most of the boys spent their free time talking about StarCraft strategies. After school, they would go to internet cafes (PC방 in Korea, literally "computer room") and play against each other, and they worshipped pro gamers -- I have never played StarCraft myself, but I still knew that Terran was everyone's favourite mode to play StarCraft in my class, and that the best StarCraft player of the time was Ssamzang ("쌈장", the winner "장" of fights "싸움").

Ah, the good old days. Fin.K.L. was probably my favourite among all Kpop groups when I was a kid!

Needless to say, reading books was not high on the boys' list of priorities. That being said, the book "삼국지" (Romance of the Three Kingdoms) was the only exception to the rule. Every boy (and me!) had read some version of it by the time we were about 10 years old.

Making a literary reference is generally a risky social move, since the other person might not get it, and you'll probably come across as a book nerd (and "not cool" when you're a 10-year-old). But 삼국지 was different. You knew that everyone read it, and even if you hadn't, you heard daily references to the book that you knew about the three men 유비, 관우, and 장비 who swore to be brothers for life in the garden full of peach flowers (weirdly romantic). You knew about the genius strategist 제갈공명 who worked for the three sworn brothers, and the sly 조조 who fought to destroy the three brothers.

Here are some illustrations of the main characters of 삼국지, taken from an abridged version intended for children.

It was also popular among the adults. Having been the bookworm of my class, I had not only read the various versions for children (including a cartoon version!), I also read the version intended for adults, which is a series of 10 books with a serious amount of Hanja in it. It is actually one of the only books in Korean that I still own. There is a saying among the Koreans:

"삼국지를 세 번 읽은 사람과는 상대하지 말라." (Do not get into arguments with those who read 삼국지 three times.)

This is because 삼국지 details the history of three ancient Chinese kingdoms (Wei, Shu, and Wu in English; 위, 촉, and 오 in Korean) that emerged at the end of the Han dynasty (184 AD to 280 AD), and it is essentially an Asian version of the Game of Thrones... except that it actually happened.

The book deals with the intrigue, trickery, heroics, treachery, loyalty, and military strategies of those who were living in the uncertain times when the Han dynasty could collapse any day. It is said that if you read 삼국지 three times, you will be able to recognize anything that people might be scheming against you, because the characters in 삼국지 more or less use all of these against one another.

This is 여포, one of the characters in 삼국지.

여포 is an interesting character in 삼국지. It is said that his contemporaries used to proclaim,

"人中呂布 馬中赤兔 (인중여포 마중적토)" (Among the people is 여포, and among the horses is 적토)

여포, riding his horse 적토, was probably the strongest warrior of his time, so much so that it seemed that anyone who could get him to fight for them was sure to be in the running to be the first emperor of the next dynasty that would rise after Han Dynasty fell. He was such an attractive asset that many people offered to adopt him as a son and heir (adopting someone as a son was much more common in the ancient times, to carry on the family name, and it was also a way to show your complete trust). Aside from his biological father, 여포 was adopted twice, and eventually killed both of his adopted fathers. Brave but ruthless and without conscience, 여포 was feared in battles, and he is described as being able to run through a battlefield as if there was no one else in it, because he would just kill anyone in front of him without a second thought, and no one could actually fight him.

You can probably imagine that young boys would go crazy over this ridiculously strong character who seldom had a match, despite his serious personality flaw, especially if he came out as a video game character. Which he did.

This is 여포 as a video game character. On second thought, I wonder how many of my classmates had actually read 삼국지...

Unlike the Western countries where people mostly move out from their parents' homes when they attend university, Koreans usually live with their parents until they get married -- Korea is a small country, and if you're working or studying within commuting distance from your parents, it is the economical option. This also has the advantage that your parents are likely to be there to support you when you're going through the hard times of your early-to-mid 20s when you're often frustrated and unsure of your future.

The downside (aside from the obvious lack of privacy and possible lack of independence) of this living arrangement is that the easiest targets for taking out your frustration and anger are your parents. This paints a rather sad picture that is not so common in the Western world, where the yet-jobless 20-somethings, frustrated at the stream of rejections, are playing video games in their rooms to escape their reality for a while. Concerned parent looks in, and the 20-something unleashes their frustration at their mom, yelling "LEAVE ME ALONE, I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF."

In Korea, where the Confucianism values still rule the society, this paints a serious ethical problem (and Koreans suspect that rather a large number of people have committed this sin at some point in their lives), and many people make an effort to point this out. In the usual Korean humour, the internauts have also made an attempt to do this. In particular, a very simple post by an internaut drew out a lot of empathy from the others:

First line: "When I'm out meeting other people"
Second line: "When I'm talking to mom at home"

The first photo is 유선, another character in 삼국지 who was known for being weak and meek in personality, and the second photo is obviously 여포. This internaut wanted to satirize the fact that many of these people would not dare to say anything negative in front of others, but that they would be ruthless and cruel like 여포 when they're talking to their mom.

This post led to the creation of the phrase "방구석 여포" (여포 in your room). "방" means "room", and "구석" usually means "corner", although in this case, it is used as a derogatory diminutive (similarly, you can talk about your "집구석" which you can use to refer to your house in a negative way). It mocks the people who are tough only with their mother, while being a complete loser in the eyes of the others. And it is used in precisely this context only (but weirdly often). If you saw a friend who seemed rude to your mom, you could advise:

"방구석 여포 되지 말고, 엄마한테 잘 해드려." (Don't be like a 여포 in your own room; be nice to your mom).

If you saw someone particularly aggressive on the internet that you wanted to insult, you could try:

"방구석 여포같은 새끼야. 엄마 우시는거 안보이냐?" (You little b*tch acting like a 여포 in your own house, can you see that your mom is crying right now?)

Okay, definitely don't use the second phrase in real life. Aside from the bluntness and rudeness of this phrase, I really like this phrase because it is not every day that you see a literary reference used to really insult someone. Furthermore, it points out a pretty unique Korean phenomenon, so it only makes sense that the expression corresponding to it should also be uniquely Korean with no equal English translations!

This phrase is relatively new; I think I heard it for the first time maybe last year, but I am told that among the male users on the internet, this phrase was common since about 2016 (which makes sense since the men are definitely more into 삼국지 than women). Prior to the invention of this phrase, the word "강약약강" was used, which is a shortened form of

"강자 앞에서는 약하고, 약자 앞에서는 강하다." (In the presence of the strong, they are weak, and in front of the weak, they are strong)

which could be used like:

"준호는 전형적인 강약약강형의 인간이야." (Junho is the typical 강약약강 type)

 or

"야, 애들한테 강약약강짓좀 그만해. 보는 내가 다 창피하다." (Stop acting so tough in front of the small kids, and pick on your own size. You're embarrassing me)

This word is still used widely (for example, among women, who rarely seem to make 삼국지 references among themselves), and it also has variations like "강강약약" (strong in front of the strong, and weak in front of the weak).

Anyway, in the wake of COVID-19, hope that you all manage to stay safe. My school has just shut down; maybe I can use the time to read 삼국지 once more in the hopes of becoming invincible. I strongly recommend it!

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#136. 총공 -- Why the Koreans have united to wage a cyber war this week

Call me vulgar, but I love drama and juicy gossip. I don't even make an effort of trying to look uninterested when people start fighting, and I shamelessly collect all the rumours and construct the entire story (God forbid should I miss even the tiniest detail!) in my head. That's probably why I got into K-Pop in the first place, and this is definitely why I started spending way too much of my time on the Korean internet.

The Korean internet has so much character. The Koreans, who are the nicest, most polite, and amazingly helpful people in real life, transform themselves into these primitive things on the internet. They usually belong to one or more "tribes" or internet communities, who hate other communities. It is surprisingly commonplace for an internet tribe to decide that justice needs to be dealt to another internet tribe, and engage in a battle. How are these battles fought? One community decides on the date and time of the attack, and everyone belonging to this community starts flooding the other community's forums with offensive posts (in the internet slang, we call it "게시판을 도배한다", or "wallpaper the forum"), eventually causing the server to crash.

The process leading up to the decision is the most fun of all. Some instigators start attracting other people's attentions with funny but witty posts detailing the crimes committed by the other community, until more and more people become emotionally embroiled in the conflict, then the hivemind of the internet community magically comes up with the date, time, and the method of attack. Given that these communities either do not have an obvious leader, or the leaders tend to discourage these kinds of behaviour, the frequency at which these attacks happen is astounding. Of course, those who are not directly impacted by the conflict also have fun, because word gets around that a battle is raging on, and the others gather around their computer screens with a bag of popcorns, and watch the battle unfold. It's even more fun if some people decide to take the battle offline, by either challenging someone to a physical fight (the appropriate internet slang is "현피뜨다") or by bringing the other person to court for libel (you can say, "고소미 먹었다.")

In Korean, the bystanders would be gleefully telling each other, "팝콘각이다!" (The situation is setting itself for some popcorns)

Take what I'm about to tell you in whatever way you prefer -- the reason I am writing this post is because probably one of the most epic internet battle in my memory of the Korean internet is unfolding as I'm writing this post. Perhaps you'd like to get a bag of popcorns; or perhaps you will feel compelled to be more proactive and help the Korean warriors (because that's what they are in this story). This story is a long and complicated one, that starts several thousand years back. Also, a disclaimer: being of Korean heritage, I am of course biased, and I have learned that history has many sides. If you feel that something is misrepresented, please leave a (nice) comment!

Everyone knows that the three (four, if you count North Korea) countries in the far east -- Korea, China, and Japan -- absolutely hate each other. I've written several posts on the Korea-Japan conflicts, but I didn't really write about why Koreans don't like China. The short story is that China, being the big and powerful neighbour, was always interested in trying to make Korea their own. Let me give you a few examples (absolutely not exhaustive).

1. The Tang Dynasty ("당나라" in Korean) attacked Goguryeo ("고구려") in 644 AD. The obstacle standing between the powerful and numerous Tang army (approximately 200,000 men) and the capital Pyongyang was a small castle called "안시성" containing 5,000 men. Miraculously, the 5,000 men held down the fort for several months, while Tang Dynasty used their strength in number to build a castle out of sand so that they could shoot into 안시성 from the same height. Funnily enough, the Goguryeo army managed to take this sand castle during heavy rain, and they stopped the Tang Dynasty from entering Pyongyang.

Fun fact: The Tang Dynasty came into power because the preceding Sui Dynasty ("수나라") was considerably weakened after their 17-year battle with 고구려 (598 AD - 614 AD), in which they were completely defeated. They really couldn't leave 고구려 alone!

2. The Yuan Dynasty "원나라" (and the preceding Song Dynasty "송나라") essentially ruled Goryeo (고려) (1259 AD - 1356 AD), and the Yuan Dynasty even had the final say in who became Goryeo's king. They went as far as replacing the current kings in office by more co-operative people, and some kings actually spent most of their lives (including while they were ruling Goryeo) in China. Of course, Goryeo periodically sent valuable goods and beautiful women to Yuan Dynasty as well.

Thankfully, Goryeo had a wise king ("공민왕") who fought to escape the Chinese rule, and he was further aided by the fact that Yuan Dynasty was on the decline, and was eventually replaced by the Ming Dynasty "명나라". Unfortunately, Goryeo also fell and Joseon (조선) came into power not too long afterwards.

This is a portrait of 공민왕 -- notice that his clothes look Chinese! Whenever Korea was under a foreign occupation, Korea always lost a piece of itself, whether it be the clothes, or its language.

3. The Qing Dynasty ("청나라") invaded Joseon (조선) in 1636. Joseon was unable to hold the Qing soldiers at bay, and in just two months, Joseon surrendered. The king of Joseon then had to kneel before the emperor of the Qing Dynasty, and agreed to be their subject. Joseon is said to have maintained a good relation with the Qing Dynasty, so this somewhat unequal relationship continued until the Japanese invasion of 1910.

Here, the Korean King 인조 is kneeling before the Qing Emperor; he was asked to kneel three times, bowing three times each time he knelt. Legend has it that 인조 was so furious that he was smashing his head against the ground each time he bowed, eventually bleeding profusely from his forehead. The Koreans still remember this event as "삼전도의 굴욕," or the humiliation at 삼전 island.

4. And of course, the Chinese army played a huge role in the Korean War (in Korean, "6.25 (육 이오) 전쟁") 1950-1953. Kim Il-Sung (김일성), the founder of North Korea, convinced the Soviet Union and China to support his war against South Korea. While Stalin was said to be concerned about the possibility of the World War III and offered minimal help, China responded more positively, sending in nearly 3 million soldiers into the Korean peninsula. Without China, North Korea probably would not exist today; and even today, China and North Korea maintain good relationship, China going as far as sending back the escaped North Korean refugees to North Korea, should they get caught (knowing that they will probably be tortured or killed).

It is often said that there were so many Chinese soldiers, that it was almost like seeing a sea of men. Koreans call this "인해전술," the strategy using so many people, so that it looks like a sea of men.

Given all these interventions of China throughout Korea's history, it is not surprising that the Koreans often regard the Chinese government with some mistrust. As long as I can remember, there were always whispered rumours of the Korean-speaking Chinese population (called "조선족" in Korean, meaning the "Joseon (조선) tribe (족)"). Surely their ancestors were from 고구려 or 고려 or 조선, and they probably live in China simply because they never made it back into Korea before Korea actually became a country that grants citizenships. Nonetheless, the long period of separation made the Koreans wary of 조선족. Are they expats who miss Korea? Would they still be loyal to Korea? Or are they simply Korean-speaking Chinese people, which perhaps makes them more dangerous?

As long as I can remember, there were always whispered rumours about these 조선족. That they are the Chinese spies. That they would not hesitate to eat human flesh. That they kidnap healthy Koreans and sell their organs. Some of the worst serial killers in the Korean history were 조선족, and it seems that a lot of phishing scams are tied to 조선족 for whatever reason. It is a fairly common reaction of the almost-scammed Koreans to start insulting the Chinese leaders (such as Xi Jinping or Mao), to see if the almost-scammer would react to it -- and if they become angry, surely they are 조선족!

For whatever reason, the Koreans believe that insulting pictures of the communist party of China will bring out the worst reaction in the Chinese people. The Koreans believe that even looking at these pictures might be enough to get the 조선족 in trouble with the communist party; I cannot verify or refute this claim, but I imagine that this belief is based on the stories of North Korea, where such things would certainly be true.

Korea has been in a political and economic turmoil for the past several months. And with the recent emergence of COVID-19, the Koreans are more fearful than ever of their future. Taking part in the Korean internet communities, I have been hearing rumours of possible Chinese collusion, that the Chinese government employed thousands of 조선족 to flood the Korean internet with pro-government propaganda to manipulate the public opinion. That these 조선족 알바 (the part-time 조선족) are getting paid per online comment that they make, and that the Chinese have already infiltrated the Korean online communities, and that most moderators are 조선족. Of course, this woman of science doesn't really believe without proof, but nonetheless, such rumours are widespread in the Korean internet.

For most people who are not interested in politics, including myself, the story began with the outbreak of COVID-19. When the story broke that a new strain of virus was discovered in Wuhan, the Koreans voiced concerns, since Korea receives a large number of tourists from China. As the infections began to spread through Wuhan, Koreans waited for the government to ban the entry of Chinese travelers. After all, many countries, including the US, Australia, Japan, North Korea, Russia, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Vietnam, have placed the ban.

List of travel bans on China; despite being marked on the map as having an entry/exit ban, Korea has restricted entry/exit for those who are coming directly from Wuhan.

Surprisingly, the ban never came. Fearful and desperate, the Koreans signed a petition for the government to impose a quick entry ban, and the total number of signatures was approximately 760,000. The doctor's association also advised the government to quickly close its borders. Every news article was flooded with pleas to the president to make a swift decision.

The government would not budge. It cited reasons that China is Korea's biggest trade partner, and that closing the border would impact our business. The government also sent large number of medical supplies, including 2 million face masks, to China. In addition, the government also announced that should the Chinese travelers get sick while being in Korea, the government would pay for their treatment, as well as their living expenses while in Korea. Finally, the government asked the Koreans not to call this disease Wuhan Pneumonia, as it encouraged hatred towards the Chinese, and to call it instead "Coronavirus."

The price of face masks skyrocketed tenfold. Even with ten times the usual price, Koreans are still having problems securing masks, even today. And various government organizations at the federal and the provincial level are still sending masks to China.

This article claims that over 100 times the usual amount of fask masks have been exported to China in January, and it doubled again in February. This is in addition to the masks that the government sent to China as aid.

Chaos seemed to reign the Korean internet. Every community could not stop talking about the "Wuhan Pneumonia (우한 폐렴)", as it became known in the Korean internet. Voices of criticism against the president Moon Jae-In and the government started getting stronger. An online petition launched in the Blue House (equivalent of the American White House) website, calling for the impeachment of the president. This petition gathered over 1.3 million signatures.

Then something strange happened. A counter-petition supporting the president also launched, and quickly gathered 1.1 million signatures. In many online forums, the top three comments in the posts criticizing the government policy would be pro-government, often calling the original poster foolish and insulting them in many ways. Weirdly enough, all comments after the top three comments would be anti-government. Soon, the Koreans noticed that the difference between the "likes (추천)" and the "dislikes (비추, short for 비추천)" was constant.

Exhibit one, the differences between likes and dislikes in the top three comments are between 661-663. The comments support the government, and blame the doctors and religious organizations for not being able to manage COVID-19.

Exhibit two, where the difference between the likes and dislikes of the top three comments are held constant at approximately 250. The fourth highest comment calls the government "the worst government ever, because the merchants are going bankrupt, citizens dying from the Wuhan Pneumonia, and the housing bubble at its highest."

The rumours of online manipulations by the Pro-China forces seemed more and more likely, although there were no definite evidences. The Koreans already knew that the internet could be manipulated; when the scandal of the former Korean minister of justice was raging on (in which the minister, Cho Kuk (조국), was caught forging his children's college and professional school applications, among other things), the top two trending search words on Naver, the largest search engine in Korea, had clear political motives. The #1 said "Courage to Cho Kuk" and #2 said "Cho Kuk must resign".

Then on February 27, two decisive things happened.

First, a post titled "어느 조선족의 고백 (Confessions of a 조선족)" appeared on the Korean internet (follow link to see the full text + translations). The writer of the post alleged that he was a 조선족 who saw himself as a Korean (and not Chinese), and that the Chinese government was involved in all aspects of the Korean society, including the presidential election. He also alleged that the 조선족 are indeed involved in manipulating the online opinions, by systematically upvoting designated pro-government comments and using their strength in numbers to make certain search terms appear to be trending.

Of course, this post was all words and no proof, and the post alone probably would not have gained much traction. After all, there are many attention-seekers ("관종") on the Korean internet who would make up a lot of fake stories.

But then, one tech-savvy Korean internaut found what many Koreans believed to be a decisive evidence of the Chinese involvement in the Korean internet communities. He thought of the idea that he would analyze the traffic to the Blue House website, which hosts the petitions to the government, including the petition to impeach the president, and the petition to support the president. If the Chinese were indeed involved in this, surely it would show from the traffic analysis! And indeed, he found that the recent Chinese traffic to the Blue House website has increased by over 70%.

One of the most popular search terms that people used to access the Blue House website was even in Chinese. Now, in the presence of a somewhat concrete evidence, the situation started to look a bit more serious.

Actually, I'm under-stating this. The Korean internet communities blew up.

And here is the one awesome thing about Koreans. They are hilarious. Especially online.

I am not sure how the other cultures would have reacted in the presence of this knowledge. But the Koreans decided that this was the right time to test out a theory that was more of an urban legend. 

The legend has it that the Chinese government often inspects the browsing history of its citizens. And the legend says that if the citizens are caught browsing websites that go against the doctrines of the Communist Party (for example, Free Tibet or dongtaiwang.com, which apparently deals with information that the Communist Party would like to block from its citizens), then they can be punished by the government. There are some who believe that people who are noticed by the Communist Party end up as exhibits in Body Worlds (in Korean, "인체의 신비" or "Mysteries of the Human Body").

The Koreans decided to make phishing links that looks like a link to the pro-president petition, but actually redirects to dongtaiwang.com when you click on it. Then they started planting these links everywhere on the Korean internet, because, you know, the 조선족 are supposed to be everywhere. Why dongtaiwang.com instead of freetibet.org? When you read "dongtaiwang" in Korean, it sounds like "동태왕". "동태" is frozen pollack, and "왕" is king. So it just sounds funnier.

Random fun fact: Pollack is "명태" in Korean, but frozen pollack is "동태".

The response to these phishing (no pun intended) links were almost immediate, and kind of astounding. When people mistakenly clicked on these phishing links (which are essentially harmless unless these urban legends are true), there were some violent reactions. Here are some reactions:

"이봐요 나에게 왜이러는겁니까" (Hey, why are you doing this to me?)

"난 그냥 개인이오" (I'm just an individual)

(mentioning the above person) "들어가셨습니까? 저 어떡해요" (Did you actually click? What am I going to do?)

"절대 절대 들어가지마세요... 해킹 당합니다... 난 그냥 개인이요" (Never never click the above link... You'll get hacked. I'm just an individual)

"난 개인이요 어디 변절을 합니까? 내 의지가 아니다" (I'm just an individual. I would never betray. It's not my free will) 

For a harmless prank, the responses were disproportionately strong, and also uniform in that many people wrote, "나는 개인이오" (I'm just an individual). Not only did this phrase not make sense, it is not a phrase frequently used in Korea. However, if it came from a 조선족, whose grammar and vocabulary are often slightly different from the Koreans, it started to make a little bit of sense.

A Korean internaut claiming to be a 조선족 explained: you can indeed get into trouble for accessing these forbidden websites. Nonetheless, the government also recognizes that people make mistakes, and often you just get off with a mild reprimand. However, if the government determines that you accessed this website as a part of an organized group action, then you can actually disappear without a trace one day, so people who have clicked this link are rightfully fearful. Since they must still stay true to their character and not give away their identity that they are actually Chinese people infiltrating the Korean web, they write in Korean "나는 개인이오" (I'm an individual) to signify to the government inspectors that they are not part of some organized group against the Chinese government.

The language barrier between China and Korea is too great that this information cannot be verified immediately. But this made the Korean internauts only too gleeful. Now taunting those who fall into this trap, the Koreans made more and more phishing links. When someone fell for it, the Koreans started telling them:

"이제 신비해지겠네" (Now you will become mysterious),

referencing the fact that they are likely to become an exhibit in "Body Worlds" (whose title in Korean is translated as "Mysteries of the human body"). Yes, I witnessed the birth of yet another internet slang phrase!

This Korean internaut claims that he succeeded in making an atomic bomb. When a suspect 조선족 clicks on his link, his computer will access all of the addresses listed above (all clearly anti-government), AND use his credentials to sign the impeachment petition.

Soon afterwards, the Koreans analyzed the visitors of dongtaiwang.com, and the results were perhaps not surprising. The ranking of the website within China went up significantly, and most visitors were from China. Since all of the phishing links were written in Korean, which most Chinese people do not speak, it does seem to add credibility to the claim that there are many Chinese people on the Korean internet.

And soon after these fake links started going up everywhere, the comments sections of online articles cleaned up considerably. The top three comments were anti-Moon, with almost no dislikes. Many people commented that they have not seen comment sections like this one in a long time.

First comment: Please investigate the Chinagate. Please.
Second comment: We must get to the bottom of the connections between Moon Jae-In and China. No sane person would do anything like this.
Third Comment: Moon Jae-In has completely lost his mind. He must really owe the Chinese.
Fourth Comment: Another phishing link targeting the 조선족...

So, as the various situational evidence started piling up, more and more people started believing this rumour of Chinese collusion. And the communities that normally hate each other (men vs. women, democrats vs. republicans, etc.) started talking to each other. They started wondering whether it was the 조선족 that exacerbated the conflicts between them. They started talking about what they could do to bring the mainstream media to pick up on this allegation.

Thus the Korean internet warriors started talking about a large-scale attack. The best course of attack online (as determined by the experienced Korean internauts) generally tends to be something that can attract the attention of the mainstream media. And the Korean mainstream media pays attention to the trending search words on Naver.

So, on March 1st (which has a historic significance, as one of the largest manifestations against the Japanese occupation happened on this day), some tens of thousands of the Korean internet warriors will gather together to launch a full-scale attack on Naver, hoping to get the search word "차이나게이트 (China Gate)" onto the top of the trending words chart. And to boost the public awareness, they will also search the words "나는 개인이오" (I'm just an individual).

They are using yet another internet slang, saying that

"3월 1일 오후 1시에 네이버 총공이야" (There will be an all-out attack on Naver on March 1st at 1pm)

where "총공" is short for "총 (everyone) 공격 (attack)". This word is normally used for K-Pop idols, that the fans are all streaming some music to put it on top of a music chart. But of course, this word is extremely relevant in this case as well.

If the attack is successful, the mainstream media will be forced to investigate and publish news articles on what has been alleged so far. The Koreans are hoping that this will be the beginning of some positive change.

This poster, advertising the attack on Naver, is now making its way around the Korean internet, hoping to recruit more people.

Of course, it is possible that they are chasing shadows. But even then, is a 총공 really that bad? It united the Korean internet communities for now, and people who would normally hate each other have set aside their differences. And if an investigation determines that there was no Chinese involvement, at least it will put everyone's mind at ease.

In any case, I am watching this case with interest, and I may even join in their efforts to bring these two words, "China Gate" and "I am just an individual" to the top of the trending search words on March 1. Because if the allegations are true, no amount of help is too small for these brave (or foolish, only time will tell) internet warriors.

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#132. Don't write your name in red (Shamanism 11)

The most successfully marketed piece of the Korean superstition is undoubtedly the folklore of fan death. It sounds incredible, but I grew up being scolded by my parents and grandparents for falling asleep with the fan on and door closed, and hearing stories of "near-death experiences" of my classmates, where they almost suffocated to death because they forgot to set the timer on their fan.

But in fact, the Koreans are quite superstitious; there are many other taboos in the Korean culture that were passed down through many generations. I encountered one such piece of taboo that I had forgotten about for many years just a few weeks ago.

I was headed home after a three-month stay in Paris, and I was doing some last-minute shopping at the Charles de Gaulle airport for my family, just minutes before boarding started. I hurriedly went to the counter, paid by my credit card, and the store clerk gave me the receipt to sign, and pushed a red pen towards me to use.

I'm not particularly afraid of airplanes, nor am I superstitious, but I had to resist the urge to pull out my own non-red pen and sign the receipt -- somehow, the fact that I was moments away from boarding a plane for some seven odd hours made me remember my mom (and my teachers) telling me not to write anyone's names in red, because that's bad luck. Like, really bad luck, as in death-grade bad luck. Just to bring closure to the story, I did end up signing my name in the red pen that the clerk gave me. I'm a woman of science, after all!

I had forgotten about this experience almost immediately, until my friend Jess brought this up in a completely unrelated conversation a few weeks later! She was completely confused about why Koreans avoided the colour red, especially when almost every Korean has a personal seal (called "도장") that you stamp on legal documents, using red ink.

If you don't have your own 도장, sometimes you press your fingers against the red ink, and stamp with your fingers instead.

Anyway, aside from the case of 도장, the Koreans generally avoid writing their names in red, and it would be a social faux pas to write someone else's name in red. I mean, what are you trying to do? Curse them to die?

No one ever explained to me why writing names in red was bad, so I did some research. It seems that there are three plausible explanations, and all of these are so interesting -- I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

1. Sejo of Joseon Dynasty

Sejo (세조), not to be confused with King Sejong (the creator of Hangul), was not a particularly well-regarded king. He was the second son of King Sejong, and thus not eligible for the throne. However, his older brother Munjong (문종) died after only two years on the throne, and his only son, Danjong (단종), was only twelve years old when he ascended the throne, and by this time, all of his grandparents and parents were dead. 단종 really didn't have anyone in the world who would look out for him.

Long story short, 세조 killed his nephew 단종 and became the king of Joseon. In the coup d'état that he staged, he planned to kill everyone who supported 단종, so he made a death note (called 살생부 in Korean). 

Many Koreans don't like to acknowledge Sejo as a proper king. So many people call him 수양대군 instead, refusing to use the -jo or -jong suffix accorded to kings, and using -대군 suffix for princes.

He used his nephew's name to call every highly ranked government official to the Gyeongbok Palace (경복궁), and killed everyone whose names were on the so-called death note. The legend has it that the names of the people to be killed were written in red.

2. Qin Shi Huang of China

Qin Shi Huang (진시황 or 진시황제), literally meaning the first (시) emperor (황) of the Qin Dynasty (진), is probably the most well-known Chinese emperor in Korea. Although he seems to have done well politically as well, he is known in Korea for his antics relating to shamanism. He built a large mausoleum for his afterlife (and didn't finish by the time he died), built the Great Wall of China, and searched everywhere for the herb of everlasting youth (불로초). 

This is what his tomb might have looked like; SO extra!

This obviously greedy man also loved the colour red; red was always a lucky colour in China (something that carried on to the present-day China), and Qin Shi Huang supposedly decreed that no one else was allowed to write their names in red. If someone broke this decree, they would be put to death. It is said that people were afraid of writing their names in red from then on, and this Chinese fear eventually made its way into the Korean peninsula.

3. The Korean War

During the Korean War (6.25전쟁 in Korean, because the war started in the morning of June 25), many young Korean men either volunteered or were drafted into the war. The Korean casualties were large, around 140,000 soldiers and an additional 350,000 civilians from South Korea were killed during the three years of war (and around 800,000 deaths in North Korea).

It is said that when the notices for the soldiers killed in action were sent to their families, their names were written in the notices in red. I can easily imagine people dreading seeing their loved ones' names in red, and it is the last plausible explanation for why the Korean people are so afraid of writing names in red.

If I had to make a choice among the three, I'd put my money on this last one; the Korean war was recent enough that many witnesses are still alive, my grandmothers included. And interestingly enough, North Koreans seem to have less fear of writing their names in red; often writing the Kim family's names in red. So it seems that this superstition is specific to South Korea only, which makes me think that this superstition came into being after the Korean War.

A North Korean textbook, talking about the great revolution Kim Il-Sung started (to be honest, I have no idea what revolution they're talking about!)

So, there you have it. I don't really love that the Koreans are so superstitious; nonetheless, it does make me a little bit more content that there seems to be an interesting piece of our history (or maybe three!) embedded in this particular superstition. Somehow, this makes it a little bit more okay for me!

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#130. Six more words with Japanese origin that you shouldn't use in Korea

It looks like the trade war is getting worse and worse, and it looks like the Koreans are really planning to make the Japanese boycott a long-term thing! I figured that I should also do my part by completing the second part of the blog post on the Korean words of Japanese origin.

Without further ado, here they are:


6. 쇼부(勝負, しょうぶ) --> 승부, 흥정 (to decide the winner for once and for all; to negotiate)

As I reflect on the correct translation of this word, I realize that this word is super interesting! The word "쇼부" simultaneously refers to the outcome, and the process of negotiation. Perhaps the Koreans (and maybe the Japanese too, although I don't speak enough Japanese to know!) saw winning and losing as a fluid thing; it's not just that there's a winner, they're also speaking about the process to determine the winner, and according to the Koreans, the process is just as important as the outcome!

So, for example, in a seven-game playoff final, two teams are currently tied at 3-3. As you walk into the stadium to watch the last game, you could tell your friends,

"드디어 오늘은 쇼부를 보겠군." (Finally, today, we get to see who comes out to be the winner.)

What you should be saying instead.

Or, two of your friends always brag about who is faster at that 100m dash. You have had enough of it, and you arrange for an actual match to take place; to convince the two friends to come and battle it out, you probably told them:

"맨날 싸우지만 말고 제대로 쇼부를 봐." (Stop fighting all the time, and let's see for ourselves who is faster.)

In a completely different context, you could be at a traditional market, and you're engaged in a back-and-forth price negotiation with a merchant. You want the item for $5, the merchant wants $10. You could suggest:

"7달러로 쇼부보는거 어때요?" (How about we negotiate and shake hands at $7?)

Interesting that in this case, there would be no winner, but that you can still use this word!

While this word doesn't have a great alternative in Korean, we can try to fix them: I would say

"드디어 오늘은 결과를 알 수 있겠군." (Finally I will know the outcome of this match)

"맨날 싸우지만 말고 제대로 한 번 겨뤄봐." (Instead of just arguing with words all the time, you should actually compete against each other.)

"7달러에 합의를 보는것 어때요?" (Let's agree on $7?) 

7. 땡땡이무늬 (てんてん(点点)) --> 물방울무늬 (polka dots)

So, usually I feel that the Korean language is richer than the English language, in the sense that I often come across the Korean words with no English translations, but not the other way around. The word "땡땡이무늬" is an exception; I don't think that there's a pure Korean word (of non-Japanese origin) that can accurately represent "polka dots." This word is also full of contradictions that confuse me to no end; allow me to explain.

Suppose that you have a random question that you want to ask your friend. The dialogue might go like this:

Me: 나 어제 무슨영화 봤게? (Guess what movie I watched last night?)
Friend: 음... 해리포터? (Hmm... Harry Potter?)
Me: 땡! (Wrong!)

I actually re-watched Scream last night. Not that you care.

Anyway, the word "땡" (spoken forcefully and loudly, to express the glee you feel when someone gets something wrong) means "wrong." In my head, it's onomatopoeic for that quiz-show buzzer that goes off when you get a question wrong (in Korea, often a single ring of a xylophone is used for an incorrect answer).  Of course, if we were grading an exam paper in Korea, a correct answer (you can say "딩동댕" because correct answers get three xylophone rings) is marked with a circle, and a wrong answer with a backslash (/, "땡!").

Nonetheless, the word "땡땡이무늬" means polka dots, and not backslashes.

I guess this is because in Japanese, the word "ten ten" (てんてん(点点)) means a small circular shape. And "무늬" just means "patterns." So, if you want to compliment your coworker's polka dot dress, you say:

"그 땡땡이무늬 드레스 진짜 잘 어울려." (That polka dot dress really suits you.)

So, in order to properly boycott Japanese, we would have needed a pure Korean word to replace "땡땡이" with; the Academy of the Korean Language suggests "물방울무늬" (waterdrop pattern). Perfect little circles aren't the first shapes that I think of when I hear "waterdrop," but I guess as the Korean say:

"이가 없으면 잇몸으로라도 살아야지." (If you don't have teeth, you make do with just your gums)

The popular Korean dish made from Tofu, eggs, meat, and vegetables, "동그랑땡" (Circular 땡; circle circle?) probably also comes from Japanese. I am completely lost on how to boycott the Japanese in this word, unfortunately! 

As a final parting thought, "skipping classes" in Korean is "땡땡이 치다." I'm pretty sure that this has no connections to the polka dots, though!


8. 스시 (寿司) --> 초밥 (sushi, vinegary rice)
사시미 (刺身) --> 회 (sashimi)

Here's  a quick one: "sushi," or "스시" when written in Korean, is Japanese. That is definitely not surprising, but the Koreans also have a pretty commonplace word to replace "sushi." Instead of saying "스시," you can say "초밥."

Yum!

"초" means vinegar ("식초"), and "밥," of course, is just rice. If you want to say salmon sushi, you say "연어초밥."

Similarly, "sashimi" is definitely Japanese, and Koreans instead say "회." If you want sashimi pieces out of red snapper (도미), you can say

"도미회 주세요." (Could I have some red snapper sashimi, please?)

9. 밧데리 --> 배터리, 건전지 (batteries)

The word "battery" is, of course, not Japanese. However, the Korean language evolved so quickly that you need to be careful even with the words of English origin! Some of these words coming from English were actually originally pronounced with a Japanese accent.

The word "밧데리" is a great example; the older generation, being much more familiar with Japanese (due to the colonial era, and the fact that the students were forced to study in Japanese), pronounced the word "battery" as "밧데리." This pronunciation is frowned upon, unless you're 70 years old or more. The word "밧데리" carries a negative connotation because of its association with Japanese, but also it feels OLD. Only the older people would use it; if you were writing a novel set in the 1960s, using this word would give a great feeling for the era.

Interestingly enough, although there is a Korean word for battery ("건전지"; dry power source), the word "배터리" is just as common, and comes with no negative connotation!

Here are some other words that can be pronounced with a Japanese accent, and a more acceptable way of saying them:

- extract: 엑기스 (Japanese pronunciation of "ex") --> 농축물
- running shirt: 난닝구 (Japanese pronunciation of "running") --> 런닝 셔츠
- sweatpants: 츄리닝 (Japanese pronunciation of "training") --> 트레이닝복
- overcoat: 오바 (Japanese pronunciation of "over") --> 코트
- salad: 사라다 (Japanese) --> 샐러드
- stainless steel: 스뎅 (Japanese pronunciation of "stain") --> 스테인레스 스틸
- dozen: 다스 (Japanese) --> 열두개 (12)

Fascinating that the Koreans differentiate between two foreign languages; they seem to be living the motto "Japan bad, America good." This, of course, reflects our history.


10. 기스 (きず) --> 흠, 긁히다

Still commonly used among even the younger Koreans, this word is often used to describe a new object (such as a car or a phone) being scratched. For example, you can say:

"어제 주차하다가 차가 담벼락에 닿아서 기스가 났어." (Yesterday I scratched my car while parking, because I scraped my car against a wall.)

Or

"핸드폰을 떨어뜨렸는데 다행히도 기스가 좀 난 것 이외에는 작동에 문제가 없어." (I accidentally dropped my phone, but aside from some scratches the phone is working fine.)

Here's a photo of a 기스-less phone!

The word "きず" means a "scar" in Japanese, so it feels quite appropriate for the situation that we're trying to describe; however, it is preferable to use a Korean word. You can instead say:

"어제 주차하다가 차가 담벼락에 닿아서 좀 긁혔어."

Or

"핸드폰을 떨어뜨렸는데 다행히도 본체에 흠이 좀 난 것 이외에는 작동에 문제가 없어." 

Currently, even the younger Koreans are using the word "기스" from time to time, but I do think that the Koreans are aware of the fact that this word is Japanese, and they would appreciate the effort of not using the Japanese word.


11. 구라 (晦ます)--> 거짓말 (lies)

This one is a bit complicated; people don't all agree that this word came from Japanese, but the evidence feels compelling enough to me that I have decided to include it in my blog.

There are two Japanese words that begin with gura-: One is "晦ます (くらます), guramasu," meaning "to disappear, or to deceive the observers." The other is "グラサイ, gurasai" which means a loaded die.

In Korean, "구라" means "to lie." For example, when you're sure that someone is exaggerating and lying, you can call them out by saying:

"구라치지마" or "구라까지마" (Don't lie).

This Korean celebrity's name is "김구라," or "Gura Kim." Of course, this is a stage name, probably chosen intentionally. 

Of course, this word is easy to fix without sacrificing much of the nuance. You can say instead:

"거짓말하지마."

"구라" is a bit more colloquial, but the nuance is uncomplicated, and you lose almost nothing by replacing "구라" with "거짓말" anywhere. So you can also say:

"거짓말치지마" or "거짓말까지마,"

although it is grammatically incorrect.

 

 

And that's it! As always, thank you for reading, and for waiting for new posts. My blog must be the most delinquent blog in terms of updates, and I am always grateful when I see that people still visit my blog :)

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#119. 주작 -- God of lies

It is still snowing where I live. It has been a really long winter, and although I try, it is difficult to look upon the winter season with kindness when it has been dragging on for nearly six months. Save for the Christmas season, winter is the depressing time of the year where the land is barren and the weather harsh. It is something that you must prepare for during the happy and plentiful seasons of spring, summer, and autumn.

Did you ever stop to think that the House Stark is perhaps being a little unfair to winter?

Having lived in Korea, I can tell you that the winter in Korea is just as unpleasant as the winters anywhere else. However, the Koreans seemed to have made a valiant effort against the (well-deserved) notion of "winter sucks," and here is how:

The central idea behind the Daoist philosophy (in Korean, this is called the "도가 (Daoist) 사상 (philosophy)"), which is one of the ingredients that shaped the traditional Korean shamanistic beliefs, is that one must not struggle against what is natural. For example, getting old, dying, as well as the winter, is just a natural way ("도" in Korean) of life, and it is pointless to resist. Furthermore, by enduring and obeying the natural way, one eventually arrives at something positive, such as birth (many Koreans believe in the past life and rebirth to some degree!) or maybe even spring.

The Daoists presumably needed to come up with a simpler way to explain this idea to the laypeople (Daoism was born around 400 BC, by the way!) Their idea seems to have been that they would correspond a "mascot" to each of these ideas, and there won't be a preconceived positive or negative notions attached to these mascots.

They began by assigning a god to each direction. They assigned:

- "청룡", or a blue ("청", as in "청바지" meaning blue jeans) dragon ("룡", as in "공룡" meaning dinosaur) to the east;
- "백호", or a white ("백", as in "백조" meaning swan) tiger ("호", as in "호랑이" meaning tiger) to the west;
- "주작", or a red ("주", as in "주황색" meaning orange colour) bird ("작", as in "공작" meaning a peacock) to the south; and
- "현무", or a black turtle-snake (this imaginary animal is said to have the body of a turtle, and the face and the tail of a snake), to the north.

These mural paintings of the four gods are often found in the ruins and tombs of Goguryeo -- it is said that the Tang Dynasty sent some of its Daoist priests to Goguryeo as part of their diplomatic efforts.

These are called 사방신 in Korean, or four (사) gods (신) of directions (방) if you translate it. These gods not only guard the evils coming in from these directions, but they are also in charge of various other elements of life. For example:

- the 청룡, or the blue dragon (east), is in charge of spring, childhood, and the feeling of anger;
- the 백호, or the white tiger (west), is in charge of autumn, elderliness, and the feeling of sadness;
- the 주작, or the red bird (south), is in charge of summer, youth, and the feeling of happiness;
- the 현무, or the black turtle-snake (north), is in charge of winter, death, and the feeling of fear.

By using these imaginary animals, the Daoists tried to place the everyday occurrences on an equal footing, and emphasized that one is not superior than the other. Living through things as they come may have been easier with this analogy.

It is not a coincidence that the Korean flag is made up of the four colours of the four gods -- red, blue, black, and white.

You can find these gods everywhere in the Korean history. You may find some artwork that draws its motives from these four directional gods, or you may find some ornaments in the Korean architecture (almost like gargoyles) in their shapes. The people of Goguryeo used to paint these gods in the appropriate directions in their houses, in hopes that they protect their houses from all bad things that lurk outside.

However, in this age of the internet, the four gods are no longer on an equal footing. Instead, the 주작, the red bird of the south, the summer, and the youth, is more popular and better-known compared to the other gods, thanks to none other than StarCraft.

StarCraft, of course, could be the game that built the reputation of Korean gamers on the international stage. It was the game that everyone played since the 2000s, and the Korean gamers were the best in the world. Korea even had some betting sites, where you could bet on the outcomes of StarCraft games in the professional league.

In 2010, there was a huge scandal in the Korean gamers' community, where several professional gamers were bribed to rig the outcomes of the games (it seems that they were paid around $5000 USD per game). When this scandal, called "승부 (outcome) 조작 (rigging) 사건 (scandal)," came to light, it shook the Korean gamer community to the core. Several professional gamers were expelled from the gamers league on top of being indicted, at least eight professional teams disbanded, and StarCraft never regained its high level of popularity.

This is 마재윤 (Jaeyoon Ma), one of the professional StarCraft players who was involved in the 승부조작 scandal.

The expelled gamers received an unprecedented amount of hate from the Korean gamers, and it seemed unlikely that they will ever become professional again in any game whatsoever. However, one of the expelled gamers, 마재윤 (Jaeyoon Ma), shocked the Koreans by becoming a streamer via Afreeca (think of it as a precursor to YouTube streaming, as covered in a previous post).

When he started his streaming, the chatrooms were full of the words "조작 (rigging)," designed to insult him. For example, you could type something like

"이것도 조작이냐?" (Are you rigging this, too?)

whenever he did or said something.

Thankfully, as the streamer, he had some control of the chatroom, and he set the word "조작" as a "금지어" (forbidden "금지" word "어"), meaning that you would be banned from entering the chatroom again if you ever type this word.

So his viewers started coming up with clever ways to insult 마재윤. Instead of saying "조작," they started looking for words that sound similar to "조작." For example, a birch tree ("자작") was a popular choice, and one might have said something like:

"이것도 자작이냐?" (Is this a birch tree, too? -- meaning "are you rigging this, too?" with an intentional typo)

to avoid the auto-filter from booting you out of the chatroom. You might be even more roundabout by saying things such as:

"어디서 자작나무 타는 냄새가 나는것 같은데?" (I think I smell a birch tree burning? -- meaning "I think he's rigging this.")

Birch trees

When this caught on among his viewers, 마재윤 also set "자작" as a forbidden word. And thus began the game of hide-and-seek. 마재윤 sets a new forbidden word, and his viewers come up with yet another word that evoke the word "조작" in some way.

The most popular of these was "주작," the red bird of the south and the summer. In particular, the phrase

"날아오르라 주작이여" (Rise, O the red bird of the south -- meaning "lol, he definitely rigged this.")

became wildly popular on the internet, to the point where this phrase migrated beyond the chatroom of 마재윤's personal stream, into the general region of the Korean internet. Nowadays, it is actually more rare to see the word "조작" than "주작" when accusing someone of having made something up, or rigged something!

The font in this picture definitely has to be in 궁서체 -- see this post if you don't get the reference!

For example, if someone posts a tear-jerking story of their childhood, where they were raised by tigers and carried home by a stork when they were sixteen, people might type:

"주작을 하려면 좀 티가 안나게해라." (If you're going to make something up, at least make it less noticeable.)

or just simply:

"주작" (Red bird of the south, although it simply means "fake" in context.)

or, if you want to be particularly sarcastic:

"날아오르라 주작이여."

Interestingly, "주작" is a homonym -- it can mean a red bird (朱雀), but it can also mean "making something up" (做作), although the latter was a very old usage that was barely used prior to 마재윤's internet streaming! So, it is not incorrect to use the word "주작" for something that is fake, and this may be one of the reasons this expression caught on (but in this expression, the word "주작" definitely came from the red bird!)

The nuance of this word is definitely one of sarcastic humour. Not only are you accusing someone of having faked something, you are making fun of them by invoking the name of one of the four directional gods. Yet, as someone who spends way too much time on the Korean internet, the word "주작" almost feels more natural than "조작," and I always have to stop for a second to ensure that I am using the correct word ("조작") when I am speaking in a formal setting. I think that many Koreans would not even bother to stop and think, and just use the word "주작" in most settings!

Finally, to finish off the story of 마재윤, he also eventually set the word "주작" as a forbidden word. The Korean internet users continued to come up with new words (although none of them caught on quite like 주작), such as:

- 저작권 (copyright), 조직 (organization), for sounding similar to "조작 (rigging)";
-  백호 (white tiger), 청룡 (blue dragon), 현무 (black turtle-snake), for being the other three directional gods, and for reminding the viewers of the word "주작";
- 불사조 (phoenix), because a phoenix is another mythical bird;
- 여자친구 (girlfriend), because a girlfriend is also a mythical being among the Korean gamers;
- 전현무 (Hyunmoo Jeon, an anchorman whose first name is "현무", which reminds people of the black turtle-snake, and consequently of 주작), 노무현 (Roh Moo-hyun, a previous president of Korea, whose first name "무현" backwards "현무" is the black turtle-snake);
- 아나운서 (anchorman), because 전현무 was an anchorman, and he reminds people of "현무," which reminds them of "주작," which sounds like "조작."

This is 전현무, an ex-anchorman who now freelances as an entertainer.

All of these words were eventually set as forbidden words in 마재윤's streaming. He never gained popularity as a streamer anyway (as you can tell from the fact that his Instagram account has just 894 followers!) and he probably deserved that, first from his involvement in the rigging scandal, then from his ruthless filtering of his chatroom (although it ended up producing one of the most popular internet neologisms of this day!)

Anyway, that's the story of an ancient Korean god, whose name is still uttered by the Koreans millions of times each day. Does that please him? I am not sure, but I hope that he might be amused by the wittiness of the Korean internauts, and that he does not succumb to anger, in the true Daoist fashion where you just let things happen without fighting them.

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