feels awkward, don’t use any title. Finally, be aware that when polite people start calling you ŏrŭshin, you are already on the slippery slope to old age.
Social standing is critical in interpersonal relationships. There are only two class categories anymore: yangban and sangnom. Yangban is an honorific term for the nobility; sangnom is so bad that no one admits to belonging to this class. Now, of course, there are all sorts of yangban: the real yangban who traces his bloodlines in family registers (hojŏk) to mid-Chosŏn and earlier; and the manufactured yangban who created a family registry with a little bribery and general skullduggery and thus raised the family escutcheon from sangnom to yangban. I’ve been told that 10% of the population was yangban at the end of Chosŏn, but that by the time the country got through the Japanese occupation, there were none left! This, of course, is a Korean gentleman poking fun at prized traditional institutions. You should be aware that while it is always permissible for Koreans to belittle Korea, it is never permissible for foreigners to do so. There are five or six family names that are sangnom, but I have no intention of listing them here because that sort of information is offensive. Suffice it to say I’ve noticed over the years that a lot of my foreign friends have sangnom Korean names, probably given by a Korean mentor with a sardonic sense of humour. Most of these friends are blissfully unaware, or pretend to be, of the joke they carry on their name cards. What’s in a name? According to Dr Crane foreigners are sangnom anyway!
You will appreciate then that a thorough grounding in the yangban concept is de rigueur for aspiring long-term residents. The definitive text, The Yangban’s Tale, was written by Pak Chiwŏn (1737–1805), the indefatigable Chosŏn dynasty Shirhak (Practical Learning) scholar. Again copyright restrictions do not pertain.
THE YANGBAN’S TALE
A yangban lived in Chŏngsŏn in Kangwŏn Province. A man of most benevolent disposition, he loved reading the classics. Whenever a new county magistrate was appointed, it was customary for the new appointee to seek out the yangban and express his warmest feelings of respect. However, such was the poverty of the yangban’s household that he had borrowed 100 bags of rice from the government granary over the last number of years, a state of affairs that greatly angered the inspector when he came to town on an official inspection and examined the accounts of the government granary.
‘What son-of-a-bitch of a yangban has depleted the army grain?’ he shouted and he ordered the arrest of the yangban.
When the county magistrate got the official arrest order, he was filled with pity for the yangban. But what could he do! The yangban had no means of repaying the debt. The magistrate was caught in an impossible situation. He couldn’t put the yangban in jail; and he couldn’t disobey the order of a superior.
The yangban in his desperate plight was reduced to tears. He wept day and night but unfortunately failed to come up with a plan.
The yangban’s wife cried out in frustration:
‘You’ve spent your life sitting there reading and now there’s no way of repaying the debt. Yangban, yangban! I’m sick of rotten yangban. The title is rubbish!’
A rich man lived in the village, and when the story of the yangban’s misfortune was noised abroad, the rich man had a serious discussion with the members of his household.
‘No matter how poor a yangban is, he’s always respected and honoured. No matter how much money I make, I’m always despised. I’m not let ride a horse. If I meet a yangban, I must tremble and grovel. I bow, I scrape, I crawl. It’s a dirty life. Now the local yangban has a huge problem. He’s caught; he has no way of repaying the government grain. So why shouldn’t I buy his title and be a yangban myself?’
As soon as the rich man had the agreement of his household, he went to see the yangban and offered to repay the government grain. The yangban was delighted. True to his word, the rich man went to the government office and repaid the debt.
The shocked magistrate, not sure what this was all about, went to see the yangban. The yangban, dressed in hat and knee breeches, fell to the ground in fear and trembling. He couldn’t even look at the magistrate, and he kept referring to himself in the low form as ‘Your servant, your servant.’ More shocked than ever, the magistrate helped the yangban to his feet.
‘What does all this mean? Why on earth are you doing this?’
The yangban was even more overwhelmed. He fell to his knees again, kowtowed and said, ‘A thousand pardons. Your servant has sold his yangban title and repaid the grain debt. From now on, the rich man on the other side of the street is the yangban. Your servant can no longer behave with the arrogance of the past.’
The magistrate was filled with wonder by all he heard.
‘This rich man is truly a wise man, a yangban. No meanness in the accumulation of wealth: a man of righteousness. Takes the urgency of another man’s predicament as his own: a man of benevolence. Hates the low, loves the high: there’s wisdom here. This man is truly a yangban. At the same time if people sell the yangban title by private agreement, without a proper deed, there’ll surely be lawsuits in time to come. This transaction will only be accepted if I call the people of the village together, appoint witnesses, and draw up a proper deed. I’ll sign the deed in my capacity as magistrate.’
So spoke the magistrate.
Accordingly the magistrate called all the ranking men in the town to a meeting. He also called the farmers, artisans and small traders. He sat the rich man on the right of the dais in the place of honour, and he put the yangban in the courtyard. Then he drew up the deed and read it aloud.
‘This deed is drawn up on such-and-such a day in the ninth month of the tenth year of the reign of Ch’ienlung.
The yangban title has been sold to repay a debt in government rice; the price is 100 bags of rice.
There are several divisions of yangban. There is the scholar sŏnbi; there is the official who participates in government; there is the man of virtue known as kunja or wise man. The muban (military nobility) stand to the west; the munban (civil service nobility) stand to the east. Hence the yang or double branch of the nobility. You must choose from among these divisions.
Henceforth, you must perpetrate no base deed. You must imitate the men of old and respect their will. You must rise at the fifth watch, light a candle and sit with your eyes trained on the tip of your nose, knees bent, heels supporting your buttocks. You must recite fluently from The Writings of Tung-la, and your voice must sound like a gourd sliding across ice. You must endure the pangs of hunger, put up with cold and never let the word “poor” pass your lips. You must grit your teeth, tap the back of your head with your fist and with a gentle cough swallow your saliva. You must clean your official hat with your sleeve, but the dusting movement must be as smooth as water waves. When you wash your hands, you must clench your fist and refrain from scrubbing. When you rinse your mouth, make sure there is no offensive odour. Call your servants with a long, easy drawl; walk slowly, drag your feet. In copying from the True Treasure of Classical Literature and the Anthology of Tang Poetry, make sure you use tiny sesame seed lettering, a hundred characters to the line. Don’t soil your hands with money; never ask the price of rice. No matter how hot it is, you mustn’t take off your thick pŏsŏn socks. Don’t eat with your topknot uncovered. When you eat, don’t begin with the soup, and don’t gulp your food. Don’t work your chopsticks
