HAN AND HEUNG
Often when Westerners think of East Asians, the stereotypes of stoicism and self-control—the so-called “inscrutable Oriental”—come to mind. But Koreans in fact tend to be very expressive and open with their feelings. Somehow, sadness and happiness both seem to be magnified in Korea. Two key cultural code-words will help us examine this further: han and heung.
HEUNG AND HAN-PULI
Because han comes from unresolvable trauma, its cause never goes away. So what do you do about it? You can wallow in your pain, but you can also temporarily forget about it by pursuing all-out, manic fun. This is where heung comes in. Heung is pure joy. The word isn’t as famous as han, but I think that it should be. Even traditional Korean funerals used to feature extreme alcohol consumption, raucous singing, and the like.
Whether you want to “untie” your han (han-puli), or simply go a little crazy, Korea is a great place in which to do it. Young or old, rich or poor, everyone is allowed to get drunk, dance like a fool, or sing at the top of their voice. Tapgol Park in Seoul is often full of pensioners drinking rice wine, and throwing some shapes to the sound of old Korean music.
Korea has a history of poverty, colonialist invasion, and latterly, division into two separate countries. And crucially, a national narrative has been built around these sad events. While South Koreans can be justifiably proud of what they have achieved in such a short space of time, they still tend to view their country as a tragic victim. Korean art reflects this: the most popular ballads, TV drama series, and movies, tend to have a seriously melancholic, han-like aspect to them.
A traditional Korean funeral was a noisy, colorful affair full of han-puli.
Late-night Heung
Korea isn’t famous as a party destination—but it should be. If you find yourself out and about at 5 AM on a Friday or Saturday night, you can always drop by an “afterclub,” which as its name suggests, just gets going after normal clubs are winding down. Roadside bars named pojang macha serve soju—the lethal Korean national spirit—at all hours, too. Then try a noraebang (a kind of karaoke room) with your friends. Thousands of English songs are also available, and even if you can’t sing, there’s no excuse not to dance and shake a tambourine.
MILITARY SERVICE: THE FORMATIVE YEARS
All Korean men of sound mind and body must spend two years serving as conscripted soldiers. It is a tough experience that no one looks forward to. But it is also a highly formative period in a young man’s life, and one that results in life-long friendships. It also has a major influence on company life, strengthening hierarchy and unity between male co-workers.
Kim Kyung-hyup, a friend of mine, served in the marines—haebyeongdae in Korean. Haebyeongdae is considered the toughest and most tightly-knit of the services a conscript can enter. I asked him a few questions about his life then, and military service in general.
What kind of training do you go through?
Before joining a unit, you have six weeks of basic training down at Pohang [a city on the southeast coast]. Traditionally Haebyeongdae recruits receive training from a non-commissioned officer, a tough drill instructor who really bullies you for six weeks. In the first week they put you through tests, and send you back [to the regular army] if you aren’t physically or mentally strong enough. After that, basic training proper starts—lifting tree trunks, and training in the mud. In the third week, you learn how to shoot, and something called Bbangbbare starts. Bbangbbare means waking you up in the middle of a winter’s night, and forcing you to train outside wearing only your pants. Then they’ll spray you with a fire hose. That’s a Haebyeongdae tradition. It’s so cold… and you can’t sleep…
Bbangbbare continues, but in the fourth week you also start guerrilla and airlift training. Following that is tactical marching up Cheonjabong [a mountain around Pohang], and amphibious vehicle training. Finally, in week six, it’s the completion ceremony. The whole place is a sea of tears—six weeks of built up pain and emotions just come flooding out.
What happens after that?
When you complete your six weeks you are assigned to a division, where you’ll spend the rest of your two years. The main ones for Haebyeongdae are based in Pohang, Kimpo, and Baekryeong-do [an island very close to North Korea]. As for me, I was stationed at Baekryeong-do. Baekryeong-do Haebyeongdae is basically the northern-most line of defense in the West Sea. My unit was known as a special forces surprise attack unit. We differed from usual soldiers in that we did lots of training with IBS (Inflatable Boat, Small). This is a black rubber boat that carries seven people and weighs 230 lbs (105 kg).
Elite Haebyeongdae soldiers in training.
What was the toughest part?
Something called “twelve kilometer head-carrying,” which is a kind of training for secret landing, infiltration, and reconnaissance. Six of us would have to carry one IBS on our heads, for twelve kilometers. If you haven’t done it, you can’t imagine how painful it is. You really think it’s going to break your spine. When you complete it and put the boat down and your seniors congratulate you, you can’t help but cry. My best memories of the military were the times when I got to sit down with a beer after head-carrying. We’d receive extra money for it as well, 40,000 won each. It’s more now, but at the time that was enough to enjoy yourself on a leave day.
Also, Haebyeongdae has a lot of idiots. For example, seniors who dig up bugs and force you to eat them. Lizards, frogs, caterpillars too. And if you have to work at night with rotten seniors, they might beat you. There was always some bastard like that.
What is the effect of military service on a young man?
You feel thankful to your parents, and also that that you helped Korean society. You lament the loss of two years of your life on rotten work, but you do become more mature.
In some ways it is cruel to spend two years conscripted into the army. Generally, Korean guys go in their second year of university, and then come back two years later. By the time they’ve graduated, they’re about 26 or 27 years old. That’s late compared to other countries. Of course, there are many who emerge more mature, but there are also a lot who think it was a waste of time.
What impact do you think military service has on Korean society?
Military service is a very important part of Korean life. Simply because we’re a divided country, we have conscription, and the only people who don’t go are either the physically or mentally handicapped, or those who have enough power and connections to get out of it [this is actually a highly controversial issue in Korea]. For ordinary guys, the only choice you have is between Haebyeongdae, Air Force, the regular Army, and so on—there’s no escape from conscription itself.
While going through the course of military service, we commonly hear that it is “character-building.” But what that really means is learning socially expected behavior and rank, and being re-educated to live the kind of existence society demands us to live. The habits that form there come to last a lifetime, so military service seems to have a massive impact on how Korean men live in society.
In a good way and a bad way, conscription has a huge impact on Korean society. Not just simply as an organization for national defense, but as one of the most important elements of Korean social structure. And the Haebyeongdae Veterans’ Association, for instance, is one of the very strongest social organizations in Korea.
Would you like to reform the system in any way?
Fundamentally,