Regarding the relationship between ruler and subject, the latter had to show absolute loyalty. The ruler, though, could expect to be removed if he did not respond with benevolence. This argument was used by pro-coup neo-Confucianists to justify Yi Seong-gye’s overthrow of the Koryo Dynasty, which Joseon’s founders believed was failing the people. The trading of benevolence in return for loyalty is still a factor in Korean offices: whistleblowing is rare, as it goes against the employee’s obligation to his superior. A typical Korean boss is also more paternalistic than one from a non-Confucian society. He will take greater interest in the personal lives of his staff, and feel the need to treat them to lunch or dinner with regularity.
Within the home, the father held authority: his wife and children were expected to do as he commanded, and in return, he was to be a just ruler and provider. Males in this neo-Confucian order were privileged over females, to the extent that a woman who had given birth was referred to simply as “X’s mother.” In a house where the father had died, the firstborn son rather than the mother became the new head or master. This was a consequence of the “three obediences” of the later Joseon period: daughters were obedient to their fathers, wives to their husbands, and widows to their sons. Women were denied all inheritance rights (prior to the Joseon era, women had equal right to inherit property, as well as noble titles), and restricted from access to education. Books distributed by the government ordered women to refrain from being agnyeo (immoral women), by staying out of public affairs. This latter commandment was part of naewaebeop, a set of rules delineating the “internal” sphere from the “external.” The woman’s realm was considered to be the former, and thus her duty was to maintain a good household and cover her face on the rare occasions she went out in public. Covering the face became standard practice among upper-class women in the seventeenth century and among most Korean women by the nineteenth century.
Shin Saimdang, who lived in the sixteenth century and was a devoted mother to her son Yulgok (a leading Confucian scholar and government official), is still seen by some today as an ideal Confucian woman: in 2007, the Bank of Korea chose to place her portrait on the 50,000 won bill—the highest value bank note—due to her “mothering skills and filial piety,” according to a Los Angeles Times article. (Yulgok himself appears on the 5,000 won bill, and another Confucian thinker, Toegye, features on the 1,000 won bill.) A bank official referred to her as "the best example of motherhood in Korean history.” More than twelve Korean feminist groups protested, arguing that it reinforced stereotypes of women as subservient and worthy of recognition only for their ability to serve their children or husbands. If Korea can legitimately be accused of sexism, then Confucianism is the culprit.
How Old Are You?
The relationship between older and younger is also of great importance. When two people meet for the first time in Korea, one of the first questions that will be asked is, “How old are you?” Once it has been determined who is older, the younger person will be expected to act with a degree of deference. Special titles emphasize this hierarchy: a younger man will call an older male friend Hyung, and a younger woman will call an older female friend Eonni. In the case of a friendship between people of different sexes, an older man will be Oppa, and an older woman Nuna. The younger person in the relationship will simply be called Dongsaeng.
Traditionally, if a young man went out to eat and drink with an older man, he would be expected as a matter of courtesy to turn his head away when taking a sip from his glass. He would listen attentively to (and agree with) whatever the older man said, regardless of his true opinions. Today, such behavior may seem excessively deferential, as the power of Confucianism is in fact weakening, to some extent. Still, the young owe the old a certain amount of respect—and in return, the oldest person at the table pays for the meal.
Language reflects the age hierarchy in other ways. Korean has different levels of speech, based on the degree of respect required for different situations. Banmal, the most basic, exists for friends and social equals. After banmal, there are then six degrees of honorific speech, classified as jondaemal. In the most commonly-heard form of jondaemal, haeyoche, sentences ending with verbs conclude with the suffix haeyo. Another form, haerache, ends with handa and is used a great deal in newspapers and books. Hapsyoche is more deferential and ends in hamnida; this is typically used with customers, and on television news programs. With one’s Hyung, one may use haeyo endings or perhaps even banmal these days; with an elderly, respected person, hamnida may be necessary. The chairman of one’s company would probably require “hamnida” as well. With children speaking to parents, haeyo is standard, though there are many these days who use banmal when talking to their mother or father.
Family and Ancestry
Confucianism holds family bonds to be the most important of all. Not only are one’s living relatives deserving of respect, but a sense of duty and devotion also exists for deceased family members. Jesa, a ceremony to commemorate a departed relative on the anniversary of their death, and charye, a special type of jesa that takes place on the two national holidays of Chuseok and Lunar New Year, are held to remind people of the importance of their family and lineage. These are Confucian rites in which food is offered at a shrine set up for the occasion, and family members bow in front of it. Traditional jesa foods include rice cakes known as songpyeon, which are offered alongside an elaborate spread of vegetables, fish, and soup dishes. There is room for variation, though, as it is also customary to lay out the favorite dish of the deceased person. In 2011, photographs of a jesa table containing pizza were run by the national press; when the family was asked why they laid out such a non-traditional food, their response was simply, “Our father liked pizza.”
Jesa suggests to many that Koreans practice ancestor worship or that Confucianism is a religion with special rites of its own. Indeed, some early Korean Christians were martyred for refusing to perform it. These days, some Christians do not do jesa, and Protestants may even follow their own “jesa replacement” ceremony, chudo yebae. However, Zhu Xi did not believe that the souls of the dead actually exist, but rather viewed such rites as the opportunity to demonstrate respect and remember. In this way, the act of commemoration serves the purpose of upholding one’s filial piety, as well as promoting li.
To one’s ancestors, one owes respect. To one’s parents, one owes a lifelong debt. This debt can never be truly repaid, since without one’s parents one would not exist. For this reason, the debt must be acknowledged throughout one’s life, and one must strive to come as close to repaying it as one can. A child should not marry whomever he or she wants, but rather the person his or her parents approve of. The same applies to the child’s choice of studies in school and career; rather than follow one’s dreams and become an artist or a musician, for instance, one ought to select the most highly paid and stable job available in order to provide for one’s parents in their old age and create a secure environment in which to raise children—since there is also an imperative to continue the family line.
Today much of the influence of Confucianism on the parent-child relationship is being eroded. Children exert more free choice and are more likely than before to marry whom they please, and argue with their parents. Many see jesa as a burden. Furthermore, with regard to Confucian gender hierarchy, over the past generation women have gained equal access to education, as well as a dramatically increased role in public life, albeit one that is still far from equal. Traditional respect for elders is also in decline. Tourists in Seoul who have read about Korea’s Confucian culture sometimes express surprise when riding the subway and seeing an infirm old person waiting in vain for a youngster to give up a seat.
Education
It would be a mistake, however, to assume that South Korea is ever going to truly rid itself of Confucianism. Aside from its enduring influence on this country’s hierarchical corporate culture and language, Confucianism’s power can be felt in the realm of the national obsession, education. South Korea is famous for its unhealthy preoccupation with exam results and the pursuit of admission to the best universities.