that were diametrically opposed to the political and social ideology of the ruling yangban (yahng-bahn) class.
While all of Korea’s early philosophers were themselves members of the yangban class, those who held beliefs that were contrary to the philosophy prevailing at the royal court were invariably “outsiders” with little or no political power. Thus for generation after generation, their wisdom came to naught.
Korea’s dissident philosophers played a background role in the disintegration of the country’s backward-looking Choson court in the last half of the nineteenth century, but their warnings and counsel were too little too late. The government was so outdated, weak, and inept that it was simply overwhelmed by the tidal wave of Western influence that began sweeping the country in the 1870s, culminating in a period of colonization and destructive wars that lasted until 1953.
The philosophical conditioning of Koreans in coping with authoritarian governments throughout their early history was a major factor in their survival during the turbulent period when they were ruled by the Japanese and subjected to the brutality and havoc of modern warfare. But it was not until they had regained their sovereignty and accomplished a virtual economic miracle that they had the luxury of applying philosophy in its higher moral, spiritual, and social sense to their daily lives. This did not come easily.
The harsh military occupation of Korea by Japan for some five decades (essentially from 1895 to 1945), followed by the communization of the northern portion of the peninsula and a devastating civil war, resulted in the resurgence of a degree of militant authoritarianism that had not been experienced in the country since the founding of the Choson dynasty in 1392. And it was mostly Korean students, the heirs of the still-unused higher philosophical wisdom that had been accumulating for centuries, who defied one militaristic government after the other, eventually making it possible for more democratic leaders to achieve political power and, for the first time in the history of the country, begin heeding the philosophers.
Koreans on all levels of society are now engaged in a fundamental philosophical transformation, trying to fuse ancient beliefs and traditions with independence, individualism, democracy, and a totally new technology-driven lifestyle. How well they succeed will have international repercussions for the foreseeable future.
Chosang Sungbae 촛앙 숭배 Choh-sahng Suung-bye
Ancestor Worship
It is generally assumed that the ancient Korean practice of chosang sungbae (chohsahng suung-bye), or “ancestor worship,” was imported from China, but that is not entirely the case. There was a substantial element of ancestor worship in shamanism, Korea’s indigenous religion. Shamanism taught that the spirits of people who died survived death and continued to play an important role in the lives of those still alive and that those still living had to make sure their deceased ancestors were comfortable and content to keep them from causing trouble. (It was long believed that the spirits of people who died childless, called yongsan [yohng-sahn], were the most likely to be violent and cause problems.)
But of all the cultural values and customs introduced into Korea from China, none was more insidious or influential than the version of chosang sungbae originated by Buddhists and later elaborated on and espoused by Neo-Confucianists as a political and social ideology.
Neo-Confucianism itself was a product of reform-minded Confucian idealists in China during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In their efforts to rid China of its hated Mongol overlords, they began advocating a form of Confucianism that they believed would revitalize Chinese society and at the same time strengthen government control. This new form of Confucianism, based on absolute filial piety and ancestor worship, was adopted as Korea’s state creed in 1392 by General Song-Gye Yi, founder of Korea’s last and longest dynasty (Choson).
Building on the Buddhist teachings of the survival of the spirit after death and the importance of revering the spirits of ancestors, Neo-Confucianists created a minutely structured hierarchical society in which males were inherently superior to females, the family unit was a patriarchy, and the father or oldest male in the family had absolute authority over all the other members. Individualism was taboo. Responsibility was collective.
The bond that held this system together, intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally, was the cult of chosang sungbae—which was not only adopted as the national philosophy but also made the national political ideology as well as the state religion. This meant that it was mandatory; people had no choice in the matter. The eldest son in each family was charged with the responsibility of performing the various rituals concerned with ancestor worship, a requirement that made it absolutely essential for each family to have at least one male offspring to perform the rituals as well as to carry on the family line.
The general rule was that ancestors back to the fourth generation were to be honored by their direct descendants several times a year, including their death days, ki-il (kee-eel), at their home sang chong (sahng chohng), or “mourning shrine,” where the memorial tablets (wooden slats bearing the deceased ones’ names) were kept. Ancestors from the fifth generation and back were to be commemorated only once a year during Harvest Festival visits to grave sites. Some people who were the descendants of illustrious forebears going back several more generations chose to honor them as well.
Chosang sungbae was the central theme in Korean culture for more than five hundred years, impacting virtually every aspect of society. The cult contributed to the custom of arranged marriages and was directly responsible for the obsession with having male children. It also contributed to the practice of men taking “second wives” or concubines when their first wives failed to have sons, displeased them, or weren’t sufficiently attractive to hold their interest.
Early Korean critics of the cult of ancestor worship blamed it for the relative lack of social and economic progress in the country until the advent of modern times. They said that the cult forced first sons to spend so much time involved in the process of maintaining the family system, and themselves preparing to become ancestors, that it made their lives as well as the lives of their families an aberration.
Today more traditional Korean families hold memorial services in their homes for grandparents going back four generations on the anniversaries of their deaths. For ancestors from the fifth generation and beyond, combined memorial services are held at the family tomb once a year during Chusok (Chuusoak), the Harvest Moon Festival (the Korean equivalent of America’s Thanksgiving Day), held on the fifteenth day of the eighth month on the lunar calendar (which ranges from late August to early October). Less traditional Koreans pay respect to their ancestors just once a year during Chusok. Ancestor worship rites are known as chesa (cheh-sah) or jesa (jeh-sah).
Choson 초순 Choh-suun
Land of Morning Calm
Some three thousand years ago, when the Chinese first began to pay serious attention to what is now the Korean peninsula, they found it occupied by a people who were racially akin to them but had their own distinctive language and culture. It appears that one of these early Chinese visitors, no doubt some kind of official, was so impressed with the peaceful atmosphere of the Korean countryside that in his report he used the Chinese characters cho son (choh suun), meaning “morning calm,” in reference to the region.
According to one Chinese myth, China itself founded the first Korean nation (now referred to as “Old Choson”) in 1122 B.C. In any event, by 109 B.C. (when China’s emperor Wu-Ti led an invasion army that conquered the Korean peninsula) the Chinese were officially referring to Korea as Choson. Later Choson came to be translated into English as “Land of Morning Calm” and became a phrase associated not only with the Korean landscape and unpretentious lifestyle but also the spirit and character of the people. (Choson is also commonly written as Chosun, which is closer to the phonetically correct pronunciation.)
Unfortunately,
