commonly. In southern Korea, where they were more susceptible to damage by weathering and decay, they were often made of stone.
In addition to village gods, all Korean homes traditionally had “ancestor gods,” “house master gods,” “fire gods,” and “house site gods.”
Among the more personal of the various religious symbols in Korea are the pujok (puu-johk), or “spiritual talismans,” found in Korean homes, places of worship, and other public places. Pujok consist of slips of paper, usually white or yellow mulberry paper, with special Chinese characters and other symbols painted on them in red ink. (In Korean thought, red possesses the power to ward off evil and is the reason why the color is so common in the culture.) The pujok are placed on gates, on ceiling beams, over doors and other such places to ward off evil spirits.
Pujok come in a variety of types, ranging from single Chinese ideographs to religious symbols, geometric patterns, star charts, and the like. In addition to being used as barriers against evil, and unpleasant, disastrous events, they also are used to invite unlimited good fortune, from a long and healthy life to all of the other things that normally bring bliss to people.
While fewer and fewer Koreans take pujok seriously, they are still commonly seen throughout the country, especially at the beginning of the new year and at the beginning of spring. Many foreign residents in Korea adopt the pujok custom as a simple and pleasant way of demonstrating their appreciation of Korean culture—and to make sure they don’t miss any bets in avoiding misfortune.
Chayu 차유 Chah-yuu
The Power of Freedom
The official date for the “creation” of the Korean people is 2333 B.C.—a time that probably marks the appearance of the first combined clan-state. Koreans thus claim a history of more than four thousand years. From that long-ago time until the 1970s, Koreans lived under authoritarian governments that were dominated by a tiny, elite class that denied common people the right of freedom of choice in almost every aspect of their lives.
In fact the concept of chayu (chah-yuu), or “freedom,” in its present-day sense was totally alien to Korean culture until recent times. The political and social ideologies that prevailed during the long span of Korean history simply did not include the concept of personal freedom or personal choice. Personal freedom of any kind was regarded as an evil and corrupting ideology that had no place in Korean society because it contradicted virtually every facet of traditional shamanistic morality as well as the later Buddhist and Confucianist ideologies.
The historical lack of chayu in Korea not only warped the minds and spirits of Koreans but also kept the social, political, and economic state of Korea frozen in time. During all but the last decades of the 518-year-long Choson dynasty (1392-1910) the whole ideological weight of the Confucian-oriented government was focused on preventing change; on keeping the elite yangban (yahng-bahn) class in power and the common people in their place.
Despite more than four thousand years of conditioning in antifreedom ideologies within a hierarchical, authoritarian society, Koreans did not lose their desire for chayu because it is inherent in the human psyche; it was something their spirits yearned for. But the first serious movements toward democracy and change in Korea in the latter part of the 1800s were subverted by Japan, which began colonizing the country in 1895 and took over completely in 1910.
Koreans had fewer freedoms under the thirty-six-year Japanese colonial regime (1910-1945) than during the Choson dynasty and were to continue to suffer under strict authoritarian governments for another thirty years after regaining their sovereignty in 1945. But even the modest amount of freedom Koreans gained following the expulsion of Japan in 1945 was to have a dramatic social and economic effect on the country.
Free to make many economic choices and exercise their own initiative and energy for the first time in the history of the country, Koreans began working at a frenzied pace. By the early 1960s, economic growth had begun to change the country visibly. The more chayu Koreans won, the faster the economy grew. The larger and more powerful the economy, the more the people pressured the government for still more freedom.
Beginning in the 1960s and continuing over a period of several years, the Korean government gradually lifted the restrictions on ordinary Koreans traveling abroad. First only businessmen with special permission could travel overseas. Then the privilege was extended to people over the age of fifty who wanted to go abroad as tourists. Finally, in 1989, all restrictions on overseas travel were removed. The right to travel freely outside the country, perhaps more than any other change in Korea, spoke volumes about the progress that had been made in democratizing the government. The fact that hundreds of thousands of Koreans could afford to travel abroad was equally significant.
Legally, present-day Koreans are as free as the citizens of Australia, Canada, the United States, and other democratic societies. But there are numerous traditional social customs and cultural taboos that reduce their options and obligate them in many ways that prevent them from being as free as people in other democratic countries. These customs and taboos range from their manner of speech and behavior in general to what is acceptable as wearing apparel. Another factor that limits the freedom of Koreans has to do with the law itself. In Korea the accused person is considered guilty until proven innocent. Furthermore, the hand of the law is much harsher in Korea than it is in countries with long traditions of human rights.
Chebol 쳅올 Cheh-bohl
Collective Punishment
Historically in China, Korea, and Japan the Confucian principle of collective guilt and chebol (cheh-bohl), or “collective punishment,” were practiced with determined zeal in an effort to maintain absolute anjong (ahn-johng), or “stability,” in society. In Japan whole families were sometimes executed for the crimes of single members (and to eliminate potential political rivals). In China collective punishment as well as political elimination were often even more draconian, covering extended families out to second cousins—a practice that was used regularly by Chinese Communists between 1930 and 1976 as a means of both eliminating enemies and suspects and intimidating other people through terror.
In early Korea, which historically was generally regarded as the most Confucian country in the Confucian sphere of Asia, entire families, and sometimes whole communities or villages, were held responsible for the behavior of each member. This provided an extraordinary incentive for individuals to behave and for families and group members to severely police their own members, resulting in the ultimate in Big Brotherism.
This collective coercion began in each individual family unit, the smallest political unit in the society. The father was responsible for the behavior of the family. The same concept of collective responsibility was extended to neighborhood communities and villages.
Today the Korean concept of morality is still based loosely on collective guilt, even though the law is not. Generally speaking, Korean society holds a family responsible for the misdeeds of any of its members, and by the same reasoning individuals cannot exonerate their families simply by declaring that their families are not responsible for their behavior. This is not to suggest that Koreans traditionally approved of chebol unconditionally. Quite the contrary. When applied arbitrarily by public authorities, it was regarded as one of the primary evils of the ruling powers. But it persisted in virtually full force in schools, in the military, and in various social organizations until the early 1970s.
Collective responsibility works especially well as a social sanction against mis-behavior because Korean culture is a “shame culture.” (See Changpi on page 27.) There is extreme pressure on all Koreans to avoid shaming themselves and their families. Foreigners living and working in Korea invariably encounter the shame factor in Korean culture, but generally they are not exposed directly
