Keeping up with the Kims
K-DRAMAS…
There is a popular drama series on Korean television these days. Following the lives of three female protagonists who are each 39 years of age and thus on the cusp of reaching a significant milestone in their lives, the show is also conveniently named “39.”
Frankly speaking, I am not big into K-dramas. I consider most of them to be of subpar quality with shallow plot lines compared to their counterparts on HBO. In 39’s case, I happened to catch a glimpse of it in the living room earlier this week. Aside from the well-meaning themes of finding genuine happiness in life, what caught my attention in this series was the lifestyles and consumption habits of the main characters. Except for Mijo who works as the head of a dermatology clinic in Seoul’s fancy Gangnam district, the other two protagonists, Joo-hee and Chan-young, have service jobs as a cosmetics store manager at a mall and an acting teacher, respectively.
Across the board, salaries in South Korea are pretty low, so I couldn’t stop myself from wondering how a real-life Joo-hee or a real-life Chan-young could go about affording everything portrayed in the show from their chic outfits to modern condos. Now, I know full well that TV is not supposed to be an accurate reflection of the real world. After all, the job of the tube is to sell us fantasy from time to time. That being said, one realization I was quick to make was how the fictional characters in 39 were probably not the only ones in Korea living beyond their means.
COLD HARD FACTS
South Korea’s household debt-to-GDP ratio, a common indicator used to measure the indebtedness of the average person relative to their economic output, topped 106% in the third quarter of 2021. This puts the country in fourth place in terms of overall household indebtedness relative to GDP, surpassing even the likes of the United States, which many call out for its excessive consumerism.
For the sake of fairness, I should mention that on the very same list there were Canada, Australia, and Switzerland that outranked Korea to claim the top three spots as the countries with the most indebted private citizens. But can we really say that South Korea has the same fundamentals undergirding its economic system as Western nations whose history as developed industrialized countries go back at least a century more? To my knowledge, no. South Korea was a war-torn backwater just two generations ago when the armistice with the North was signed in 1953. During the 70-year time frame between then and now, it is preposterous to think that private household wealth has grown to such a degree that South Korea stands on equal footing with such countries.
Moreover, what makes such high levels of leverage in an economy possible are not simply hard assets but the financial institutions that are mature enough to manage such high levels of debt without testing the confidence of creditors. I would be hard-pressed to meet anybody that could keep a straight face claiming that Korea’s financial regulators and banks are as solid and developed as Zurich’s or Geneva’s.
Perhaps, I am being a bit too harsh in critiquing what is otherwise a highly advanced country. After all, South Korea does possess a strong background in many industries at the forefront of technology and is home to countless internationally renowned companies. Maybe I should stop quoting stats and figures willy-nilly and present my opinions with a more qualitative approach. However, it is a shame that, even then, my observations on the ground as a longtime resident of Seoul only adds to the bleak picture I am painting.
ENVY, NARCISSISM, PRECARITY
A few years ago, Foreign Policy magazine published an enlightening article exposing the growing trend of younger South Koreans to splurge on frivolous purchases rather than to save up for long-term goals. Aptly called “shibal” spending (or “f**k it all” spending, if translated into English), this habit is, according to the author’s analysis, the result of the growing frustration among the youth who view the ideal of moving out, finding someone, and raising a family as unattainable luxuries. While it is true that large expenses such as buying a home or the cost of education are rising in South Korea, I attribute at least a part of the blame to a deeper malaise stemming from a relentless culture of envy, narcissism, and precarity.
In an article I wrote last year, I touched upon this very topic of envy and how it affects worsening perceptions of inequality in South Korea. There, I lamented the outsized expectations of Koreans to desire more than they can realistically afford and how this one-upsmanship has led society on a downward spiral. If you have been following news from the States in recent years, none of this will sound unfamiliar. The Netflix-worthy stories of Anna Sorokin in New York City and Elizabeth Holmes in Silicon Valley are evidence that America grapples with a similar issue where so many attempt to achieve wealth and success by any means. In view of this, some might say Korea’s problems are not in any way exceptional.
To a certain degree, they are right. The neoliberal fanaticism that has driven global economic growth in the past few decades have unleashed similar issues in countries and societies all over the world. However, I still argue that Korea is unique among developed countries, as I still have yet to see a place where cutthroat economic conditions and the resulting feelings of envy and pressure have engendered a society that is so pathologically fixated on the external indicators of success in the form of money, fame, looks and credentials.
So why then is this fixation so much more pronounced here than anywhere else? Previously, I stated that it is born out of a cultural trait common to Koreans that can be summed up as immoderation. Koreans go over the top in just about anything they get their mind on, and this is most likely a symptom of a deep-seated sense of insecurity stemming from centuries as a weak kingdom positioned between two larger countries in a harsh geopolitical neighborhood.
Not only does this feeling of insecurity reside in the national psyche, but it can be extended to individual South Koreans who for the most part enjoy only a modest quality of life. South Korea does not have the capacity economically to be as wealthy as the average North American or Western European. To coin a term from Marxist sociology, most South Koreans are somewhere around being “petit bourgeois.” Being too rich to be considered poor but too poor to be considered well-to-do (i.e., bourgeois), they are in a constant struggle to keep up appearances of prosperity even though most of them don’t have the assets nor the income to sustain this long term. In doing so, they become soulless conformists to the core and blind sheep to dominant consumerist and cultural trends.
Take a drive along the Han River bisecting Seoul and you’ll be quick to notice two things. First, you will find a skyline dominated by endless rows of cookie-cutter high-rise condominium apartments that purportedly embody the nation’s newfound wealth. Second, you will be overwhelmed by the sheer number of German Beemers and Daimlers populating the crisscrossing lanes of Seoul’s roadways. Not only is this a testament to the bland conformity and lack of genuine individuality that characterizes most of South Korean society but more importantly, it screams petit bourgeois insecurity in the face of anyone watching who can see through such flashy grandstanding.
I consider myself fortunate enough to have spent the majority of my life living abroad in Europe and America. And although I don’t fancy myself an expert in sociology or architecture, I do believe my unique upbringing and experiences put me in a better position than most to shed some perspective on such topics. When I see a centuries-old chalet in Switzerland or a French Second Empire-style manor in DC, I see value through and through. When I see a sorry collection of drab, mass-produced condominium apartment blocks masquerading as “luxury” in Seoul, all I pick out is the veneer of wealth. Just because you slap some cool-sounding name in Latin or English on the side with words like “imperial” or “vista,” it does not hide the building’s tasteless design and lack of redeeming features.
As ironic as it may sound, I reckon the condominium apartments in Seoul and luxury German sedans — which capture the essence of the Korean “dream” of individual success— can also be a metaphor for this country’s key shortcomings and perhaps its eventual decay. If the foreign car embodies a yearning to be just as developed and just as refined as America or Germany, which South Korea naturally looks up to as more advanced societies, the apartment most likely symbolizes the aspiration of so many Koreans to finally be property-owning bourgeoisie. The only problem is that these condos, unlike the Haussmannien buildings of Paris, have a life span that doesn’t go beyond fifty years. What is more, these properties that so many residents find solace in the fact that they own are bought with borrowed money usually exceeding half a million dollars.
If you ask the typical Korean what makes them think all of this is warranted — from the shibal spending to the condos and cars bought on credit — you will probably hear an answer along the lines of “I deserve it for all the hard work I put in.” I suppose, in a certain sense, they are right. After all the grueling years they have to spend studying in school and finding a job and then toiling to pull late-nighters at the office, who could blame them for wanting to splurge a little? Next, ask them how they can afford this debt-fueled lifestyle, and they will probably point to everyone around them who does the same and gets away with it. I guess it’s not an issue when everyone is drinking the same Kool-Aid. After all, how can anyone possibly bear the humiliation of not keeping up with the Joneses?
ROOM FOR HOPE?
With debt mounting and the clock ticking, the hope is that there is a shift away from this grotesque culture of immoderation and one-upsmanship. Koreans can pray that their better angels will prevail and that they will wake up from their credit card-induced slumber to find more intrinsic meaning in life. Even though this doesn’t look likely any time soon, I am still reminded of small moments that convince me some human warmth remains in a place that so often feels devoid of it.
One day, I walked into the neighborhood grocery store on the last leg of my commute back home. The week was proving to be a hard one, and I thought I’d head to the back aisle and pick up a bottle of cabernet to have some dinner with my wine. At the cash register, there was an old woman in front of me — perhaps 70, maybe in her 80s. On the counter beside her were five packets of microwaveable rice porridge that had just been scanned by the clerk.
No sooner did the old lady open her yellow faux-leather purse to take out two bills of tens than the clerk ask her for the last four digits of her phone number to add store loyalty points. The old lady struggled to hear what was said. She just reached into her purse once more to take out a torn sheet of scratch paper with what looked to be her number written on it when the clerk said that there was no need.
She punched in the last four digits on her keyboard by memory and thanked the lady, as she gave her the change. Soon after, another clerk stocking the fruit section came over to help carry her bags out to the front entrance.
Perhaps, not all is lost in the land of the morning calm.
