Teach Korean, get white women.

That's the approach Sindorim Korean School (산도림한국어학당) is taking with their advertisements on the Korea Times.

Of course news sites like the Korea Times aren't known for the subtlety or classiness of their advertisements (more here and here, for example). This particular article, "Foreigner attacks old person on a bus," is surrounded by ads for a plastic surgeon, a dating quiz, two male enhancement clinics, two online shopping sites, and a wristwatch camcorder convenient for secretly taking pictures of women on the street.

This school's ad speaks to the increasing need for qualified Korean-language teachers during the swell of the Korean Wave, and unsurprisingly uses the appeal of white women---who are often fetishized and sexualized in Korean media and ads---to do it.

I'm reminded of what I dug up a couple years ago for a post I never got around to finishing, about the big language-exchange clubs in Seoul that used flirtatious white girls as their draw (inspired in turn by material found for this post about pestering foreigners to learn English).


Take a look at the "traditional" American dress used to promote the English Conversation Club.

Hana Republic is one of the best-known of these "international party" groups, and probably the most widely-advertised on Korean-language sites, and has images like this on its site to promote its language exxxchanges:



It has, um, "evolved" to include pictures of white men hanging out with Korean women as well. But nevertheless the drunk white girl angle is somewhat notable considering the reception a language-exchange site, or a Korean-language school, would get were its main aim to hook up white guys with Korean women. There's no need to spend too long imagining.

"I dream about a world in which all people are forced to use Hangul."

As I've noted before---here and here and here---the JoongAng Daily's opinion page is a useful reference for noting the differences between Korean and English-language writing styles, often by way of rambling, nonsensical editorials. In honor of Hangul Day, the holiday celebrating the Korean alphabet, JoongAng Sunday business editor Yi Jung-jae gives us another. He starts:

Her name was Sandy. She was a bit chubby and had a good sense of humor. “What do you call people who are fluent in three languages?” asked Sandy, who was a teacher in an English language class. Her students, however, were silent. “Trilingual,” she said.

“How about the people fluent in two?” she asked, and the students said “Bilingual!” Then, Sandy asked her final question. “How about just one?” The classroom was silent, once again. She then said, “The answer is an American.” We all laughed.

It was a moment from my class during a fellowship in the United States a few years ago. At the time, Sandy said Americans should be embarrassed, but she showed no sign of embarrassment even though she only spoke English.

I am a narrow-minded person, and her attitude made me think: She was showing off the power of English because English-speakers did not need to learn another language. And I thought Americans would never understand the hard life of Koreans who had to learn English, Chinese and Japanese to be successful.

And ends:

There should be more items powered by Hangul’s competitiveness in the future. That’s the path for Korea’s intellectual survival and the path for Hangul’s survival.

When my dream of such a world is realized, I really want to do one thing. I want to invite Americans, Europeans and Chinese people and teach them Hangul.

And I really want to make the joke, “What do you call people who only speak one language?” The answer, of course, is “Koreans.”

Um . . . with few exceptions, that's pretty much the case now.

Chronicle of Higher Education on reform, English-only at KAIST.

The Chronicle of Higher Education looks at changes made at Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology [KAIST] by the current president, Nam-pyo Suh, a Korean-American, as he nears the end of his term. Among the topics covered are the tenure system and the English-only policy, both controversial. On the latter:

[. . .] Mr. Suh's reforms have sometimes raised eyebrows—and hackles. Kaist is now an all-English-language campus, thanks to a presidential decree four years ago that scrapped Korean as the language of instruction, a move that many students say alienated older faculty members.

"Most of the professors are not native English speakers, and they complain that they're not teaching to their full capacity," says Jaeho Shin, a second-year chemical-and-biomolecular-engineering student. Students have been quietly told that some professors will revert to their native Korean once Mr. Suh leaves.

. . .

Scrapping Korean, while "painful" for some faculty members, has given his university an edge in global scientific research and helped flatten academic hierarchies, he says. "The Korean language makes it very hard to have one-on-one equal relationships," he says, "because it is so deferential to age and position. That's not good for innovation."

Google and the local English-language publications will be your friends for information about Korean universities and their attempts at attracting foreign students and improving their global rankings (not necessarily related). You'll find plenty of material on English in Korea on this blog, but on the topic of English-only policies at Korean universities this 2007 Inside Higher Ed article is worth a read. Three excerpts:

Many South Korean universities are setting their sights on creating an Asian education hub like Singapore and Hong Kong in order to retain more Korean students and to attract more foreign students. They have already concluded agreements with American, British and Australian universities for joint degrees, study abroad programs and faculty exchanges. Prestige is another factor in inducing universities to opt for teaching courses in English. South Korean universities are almost obsessed with the number of refereed journal articles their faculty annually publish in English and with the international rankings established by The Times of London and other rating bodies.

Many universities have set aside space where they require English to be spoken. Gyeongsang National University, for example, has created an English-only zone on its campus. Participating students agree to live in the zone, which includes two dormitories and a new classroom building with a coffee shop. The university hired English-speaking foreign students to work in the zone as waiters, guards and even trash collectors to maintain the fiction of an English zone.

. . .

Professors at KAIST voted last July to oust its American president, Robert Laughlin, because they thought his policies were too radical. One of Laughlin’s proposals was to send the entire junior-year class to China to study English. He reasoned the students could learn English in a foreign environment without being too far from home and without the risk of becoming Americanized. The new president, a naturalized American of Korean descent, scrapped this idea.

. . .

Student reactions to classes being taught in English are mixed. Although students see the advantages of being able to communicate in English, the global language, they worry about the quality of the instruction they will receive.

In some ways the English debate at KAIST and others is similar to the attitude toward English in public schools and the proposals to make English the language of instruction for all classes. Commenter Robert points out beneath the Inside Higher Ed article that few of the Korean students receiving English-language instruction will be living and working in English-speaking communities, and that most will stay in Korea and would benefit from superior instruction in professors' native language, with which not only professors but also students are familiar, trained, and proficient. When looking at this enthusiasm, and also at the backlash, like

One anonymous critic [who] denounced the concept by comparing it to the colonial period (1910-1945) when the Japanese rulers required everyone to speak Japanese instead of Korean.

it's important for native speaker English teachers to remember that English is largely a domestic pursuit in South Korea.

Registration time for September, November Test of Proficiency in Korean (한국어능력시험).

It's almost time to register for the next Test of Proficiency in Korean [TOPIK, 한국어능력시험]. The 19th exam will be held on September 12, 2010, with registration open from June 30th through July 14th at 6:00 pm. Registration for the 20th exam on November 7th will be open from August 23rd through September 1st.

You'll need to register online and, as part of an unintentional, unironic test, figure out how to navigate the pages in Korean to first create a user ID, log in, and then register. As part of the process you will need a small photograph of yourself to upload when registering. The test is administered at thirteen locations around the country---the nearest one for most Jeollanam-do readers is the Language Education Center at Gwangju's Chonnam National University---and in select cities throughout the world.

I've posted about the TOPIK several times, and you'll find lengthy discussions on preparing for it and the merits of taking it in the following entries:

* January 12, 2010: Registration for February, April Test of Proficiency in Korean (한국어능력시험).
* July 9, 2009: Test of Proficiency in Korean [TOPIK] registration through July 15th.

You'll also find discussion on learning the language in the comments to this justifiably foul-mouthed post.

I took the test once, in April 2008, and earned Level 2 without high scores in reading, listening, and vocabulary, but with a C in writing. I've received several emails asking about how to prepare for it, and I don't really have an answer. Level 2, high-beginner, is pretty easily attainable for anyone who has studied the language and who feels pretty confident with basic vocabulary and sentence building. The jump to Level 3 is enormous, because the test combines both lower- and upper-intermediate problems, and though I studied briefly for it I never attempted it.

There are six levels, but three tests. A couple of years ago there were six separate exams, but now there are three. Those who take the beginner exam (초급) and score over 70% will finish with Level 2; those earning between 40% and 69% below will get Level 1. The same pattern follows for both intermediate and advanced levels. One result is that those who see themselves as a Level 3 will have to contend with questions on the higher level. A person who earns below the lower threshold---40% on the lower level, 50% on the upper---on any of the four portions will earn the lower level. The example given on page 5 says that a person who takes the beginner level test and scores 82% on vocab/grammar, 48% on writing, 76% on listening, and 80% on reading will have an average of 71.5%, but because the test taker scored below 50% on the writing portion, s/he will earn Level 1. There is a breakdown, in Korean, of expectations for each level here.

I receive emails from people sharing the TOPIK-preparation websites they've created, but none have survived very long. If you have one, please share it in the comments. And if you have any resources you'd like to recommend, please do so as well. As far as books go, I've enjoyed the two series by Hankuk University of Foreign Studies and Sogang University (서강대학교), the latter supposedly preparing you level-by-level for what's on the exam. Sogang also has a useful website for Korean learners. I'd also recommend looking through the previous exams and answers on the TOPIK website.

Some Koreans changing their names.

I couldn't think of a good title for the post, but the Korea Times writes that over 725,000 Koreans changed their name this past decade.

Most of them said they had been bullied or mistaken for someone else because of their names.

When ``hideous'' criminals, including serial killers and pedophiles, were caught, people who had the same names as theirs filed for revisions, which were mostly accepted.

A Korean-language article gives examples of such names: 강호순, 조두순, 김길태. Since names are collections of a limited number of syllables, you're bound to have a lot of repeats. Searching on Naver for instance turns up notable people who share those three names. I'd be interested to see how many Kim Kil-tae's there are, or at least how many changed their name after his crime.

The Chosun Ilbo translation has some more information:

Among the 162,246 people whose application was approved by the Supreme Court last year, Min-jun was the most popular name for men with 552 people, and Seo-yeon for women with 1,401. In the past, many people wanted to change names that sounded old-fashioned or unpleasant, but now an increasing number of people do so for superstitious reasons such as choosing names believed to bring prosperity.

. . .

According to data published by the National Court Administration, popular names have changed over time. The most popular names in 1948 were Young-su for men and Sun-ja for women. But in recent years, unisex names such as Ji-won and Hyeon-seo are being preferred.

I don't remember ever meeting a Sun-ja.

With "hideous criminals" in the news again I'm reminded of something I noticed last year, and have an opportunity to finally write a post about it. I taught at two middle schools in Suncheon, and between them had over 50 classes of about 35 students each. I saw each class once or twice a month---one class had a three-month gap between meetings---and if that didn't make it hard enough to learn names, I never got class rosters. I'm glad students were required to wear name tags, and I'm glad some homeroom teachers had seating charts taped to their desks (that doesn't do any good when classes are mixed up according to level).

Anyway, the point is I didn't know students' names, and didn't see class rosters until it was time to give speaking tests at the end of the semester. Groups of five students would join me at a table and I'd match their names with their student numbers. A few times I'd have the right number, and the right student, but a different name on the roster. Turns out some parents would change their students' names mid-semester.

I sent an email to the author of Ask A Korean! last March, and he responded that there are two possible explanations for changing a teenager's name:

Koreans generally believe that a good name is essential to good fortune, and some parents apparently realize that there is a better name out there. Two, the other way around -- sometimes the parents force a "good name" onto a child, only to realize later that the name sounds ridiculous and subjects the child to being teased at school.

I still remember the names of my favorite students, and there are some other names that stand out. There was a Kim Dae-jung, president of South Korea from 1998 to 2003. There was a Park Ji-sung, who shares the name of Korea's most famous soccer export. And my first year I taught a Han Guk-in (한국인), or "Korean." That's way more weird than having a guy named after the German word for German.

Registration for February, April Test of Proficiency in Korean (한국어능력시험).

The 17th TOPIK (한국어능력시험) will be on February 28th, with registration open through January 17th. The 18th TOPIK will be on Sunday, April 18th, and registration is open from January 27th through February 10th. If you want to register you have to sign up on the Korean-language website---the English-language site is uninformative and nearly a year out-of-date---perhaps a test in and of itself. This Korean-language page will walk you through it. The test costs 40,000 won, and you'll need to attach a small picture of yourself to your electronic application.

The webpage is, unfortunately, pretty uninformative at present. Most of the information is a couple years old, with nothing specific for these 2010 exams. Nonetheless you can find out the nearest testing center in your area from this page: the closest one for Jeollanam-do folks is at the Language Education Center at Gwangju's Chonnam National University. The test is also given in Seoul, Busan, Daejeon, Daegu, Jeju, Cheongju, Suwon, Incheon, Chuncheon, and Jeonju.

I took the TOPIK in April, 2008, and scored level two: I had 90% or more on reading, grammar, and vocabulary, but scored in the 70s for writing. Years ago there were six different tests for six different levels. However, there are now only three tests: levels one and two are combined, three and four combined, and five and six combined. If you take the beginner level---초급, levels one and two---and score over 70%, you earn level two; between 50% and 69% and you earn level one. The other two levels are organized the same way, and it's worth mentioning if you score less than a 50% on any portion, you aren't awarded any level. The beginner-level exam has pretty easy stuff---like matching pictures of chairs and eyeglasses with the Korean words---but there is a big jump up to the intermediate level. You'll find a breakdown of expectations for each level here, in Korean.

Anyway, one way to prepare is to look over old exams available on this page from the TOPIK site.

I've posted about the test nearly every time registration has rolled around these past few years, and a post over the summer generated a lot of responses about the usefulness of studying Korean and the point of taking---and studying toward---proficiency exams, if you're interested. I used comments to it and to the post on the controversial "Misuda" episode about, among other things, white guys who don't learn Korean for an August 11th Joongang Ilbo compilation, "Learning Korean an intimidating task for expats."

In the Korea Herald, writing about thoughtless English.

Based off recent posts like

* "Korean language evolves into Konglish?"
* "Hangeul still best Asian writing system for fucking up English word the least."
* "Happy 한글 Day."
* "Too much English in Korea? Yep, and don't look at us, it's not our fault."

is my latest piece in the Korea Herald, trotting out one of my hobby horses, the overuse of English in Korea. Here are a few excerpts:

I've been treated to some articles in the papers lately dealing with English in Korea and asking if there's too much of it, specifically in restaurants, on billboards, and on product labels. I strongly believe there's too much English used in Korea, that this overuse has negative consequences for students of English and regular citizens alike, and that it'd be healthy to use more Korean in Korean. However, one point I always like to make is that the overuse of English in Korea is a domestic phenomenon, one created and continued by Koreans, and any campaign to replace it ought to be a fight for thoughtful language use, not a crusade against a foreign invader.

Some of the English here is what I call "Gibberlish," a portmanteau of gibberish and English that means words or combinations of letters used for decoration. Gibberlish is found when online translation tools are used, creating a meaningless arrangement of words such the sign in Suncheon that reads "Rain blood vessel & skin the government serviece." It is found in pop songs, where rappers and singers will randomly insert English words and phrases, and it exists to such a great extent in the fashion industry that it's tough to buy a t-shirt without ridiculous English on it.

Because much of the English in Korea doesn't make sense to native speakers, isn't created with the intention of being correct or comprehensible, and certainly isn't understood by Koreans, it's fair to ask, why use it at all?

I first read about The National Institute of the Korean Language last week, and the webpage on which they offer suggested replacements for imported "English" terms. I like what they're about: after all, why the impulse to borrow words when Korean ones are perfectly suitable? Their website might be translated as "Pruning Our Language Together" (모두가 함께하는 우리말 다듬기), and you can take a look at some of the words recently reviewed here.

But what I'd really like to emphasize is the recent changes to "Our Language" were brought about by Koreans, and campaigns to prune it shouldn't be waged against English itself or its speakers, but rather against the thoughtless use of it. It's Koreans who choose to import these words, to use mangled English instead of Korean, to write their advertisements without Hangeul, to isolate Korean speakers, and to limit their language's creative power. This isn't a foreign invasion, and any efforts at Koreaning-up the Korean language really ought to be a fight against incomprehension and thoughtless language use, rather than a xenophobic one against a foreign language.

From August, 2008.

Study Korean for free at Geumgang University?

I found this intriguing bit of news on Stray Blog the other day. From the website of Geumgang University, located in the city of Nonsan, Chungcheongnam-do.

Korean Language Program

The Korean Language Program, offered by the Geumgang Language Center, is open to those foreign students, including ethnic Koreans, who are interested in the Korean language and culture. Applicants must be fluent speakers of English, Japanese, or Chinese, and they should

(1) be currently enrolled in university studies,
(2) be on leave from university studies, or
(3) have graduated from university.

This program has primarily been designed with a view to promoting a better understanding of Korean culture on the part of foreigners and to creating an environment where Korean students will be exposed to foreign languages (English, Japanese, and Chinese) and cultures.

Admission to the Program

The successful applicant will be offered a furnished dormitory room, which is shared with a Korean student, and provided with free meals in the school cafeteria. Moreover, they will receive further financial support provided that they meet the scholarship regulations of the Geumgnag Language Center.

The page goes on to say that the program is free to those admitted, and students may be eligible for a monthly stipend. You'll find more information on that page, as well as forms to download and contact information.

Korean language evolves into Konglish?

A Gibberlish sign in Gwangju or Suncheon, I can't remember. It reads "Rain blood vessel & skin the government serviece."

No. But a few days ago the Korea Times had a piece about different dialects of Korean that have emerged because of the Korean diaspora. It bounces around a lot, but had a couple of interesting points, the first of which is the mistaken belief that nonsense English is related at all to Korean.

The article opens with three pictures of "Engrish"; the captions to two below:

Examples of Engrish, poorly translated English from Korean, riddle the streets of the Myeongdong shopping district Wednesday morning. These errors are comical, but demonstrate the changing landscape of the Korean language. Above: A coffee shop misspells the word “lemon” on their sign in the translation from Korean. Far left: A window promotion on the popular Missha store reads: “All products that are made in many criticisms from makeup experts during the creation process. “

However, misspelling "Lemon" as "Leamon" isn't a sign of development but rather of carelessness when using a language one doesn't understand. Likewise using Gibberlish---as I like to call the meaningless collection of English words you frequently see in Korea---as background isn't reflective of the Korean language so much as it is of Korean culture. Why, one might ask, do Koreans want to use a foreign language in such a way? If the arrangement of words don't mean anything to native English speakers, and don't make sense to Koreans, what is the point of using them at all?



That's not a remarkable example of Gibberlish, but one I had in my Flickr set, from a gas station coffee shop in Bundang in 2006. It says:

A good cup of the coffee can turn the worst day tolerable, can provide all-important moment of the contemplation, can rekindle a romance. The caffee is dedicated to advance the coffee quality through sincerity. The caffe is a great story of the best coffee.

Certainly not as incomprehensible as many of the t-shirts, signs, or pop songs we find, but clearly not compiled by somebody too familiar with English. I'm not going to tell people what they can or can't put on their cups or t-shirts, but it is fair to ask, as native speakers and as teachers, what the point of English actually is when we find it in Korea. It's common to hear how much English there is in Korea, though it's also fair to ask how much of it actually is English.

Now, I'll share a bit from the great little book Confucius Lives Next Door, an excerpt I quoted last summer about the meaning found in the meaningless English in Japan. I won't give Korean English abusers that much credit, or argue that Leamon is anything more significant than a product of someone who doesn't use the language, but it is worth exploring the issue more fully than the article did. From the book:

Over time, as we saw more and more of this fractured English prose, certain patterns began to emerge, and we realized that some of these slogans actually had meaning, in a manner of speaking. For example, that sign we spotted the first night we were in Tokyo--"Fine Boys Since 1987 says Lets Sex!"--seemed like total nonsense at the time. Gradually, though, we realized that this slogan was full of meaning for the Japanese.

In Japanese English, the words "boys" and "girls" are used to describe trendy, popular young people of dating age, roughly from eighteen to thirty-five. The words "fine" and "fashion" are adjectives that suggest "up-to-date" or "cool." (The terms "high-sense" and "high-touch" also convey a sense of living on the leading edge of the latests fashions.) The expression "since 19xx" is used for precisely the opposite purpose of its use in English-speaking countries. In England, snooty shops and manufacturers of luxury goods like to use "Since . . ." on their labels to suggest they have been around forever: "Purveyors to the Royal House Since 1734." In Japan, "since . . ." is used to suggest that a store or product is brand-new, like "since 1996." In fact, the "since 1987" on that billboard was the oldest "since . . ." I ever saw in Japan.

As for the concluding phrase, "Let's Sex," this is simply a translation of a common pattern in the Japanese language. The Japanese verb shimahshō, meaning "let's do it," can be used with any noun: benkyo shimahshō, "let's study;" ryoko shimahshō, "let's travel." And so it seems perfectly normal for the Japanese to take the English translation of their verb "let's" and combine it with any English noun. You see patterns like this all the time: "Let's Skiing." "Let's Business Meeting." "Let's Recreation." "Let's Sex."

So if you want to get across to youthful Japanese consumers the message that your company is a fashionable new endeavor targeting a market of upscale young men with romance on their minds, there's a perfectly clear way to convey this information: "Fine Boys Since 1987 says Let's Sex." What could be more obvious?

However, the Korea Times article suggests that bad English is somehow, well, good, but while I recognize how hard it is to learn and use a language, I won't admit that much of the incorrect and often meaningless English and Gibberlish actually has meaning and should be valued.

Another point the meandering article touches upon is mention of a local institution trying to preserve Korean and encourage the use of Korean words over imported English words when possible.

The National Institute of the Korean Language created a Web site ― Malteo.net ― in 1994 promoting the survival of Korean words over English equivalents that were being adopted into the language.

"It is a natural phenomenon to use foreign words that come into our language in terms of technology and culture," said Jo Tae-rin, an official from the institute. "However, I think that it's better to use Korean words over the foreign ones, in cases where there is a corresponding Korean word available.

"The problem arises when an excessive use of foreign languages undermines our culture and traditions," he added, agreeing, however, that it is inherent in all cultures to adopt foreign words.

King supports the institute's efforts, but cautions that such issues should not be overemphasized or approached from the wrong perspective.

"I think it is a worthwhile endeavor, as long as it is divorced from unproductive nationalist ideological discourse," he said. "And as long as language planners are willing to accept an eventuality where only a small proportion of their suggestions actually find acceptance."

Every two weeks a new word is introduced to Malteo.net and visitors are asked to come up with a corresponding Korean word. Four hundred words are proposed on average, with roughly 2,000 people participating in the vote, according to the official.

The article closes with a table of proposed Korean-for-English substitutions:

Landmark: 랜드마크 to 마루지
Recipe: 레시피 to 조리법
Hot issue: 핫이슈 to 주요쟁점
Junk food: 정크푸드 to 부실음식
Eye shopping: 아이쇼핑 to 눈길장보기
Curtain call: 커튼콜 to 부름갈채
Mentor: 멘토 to 인생길잡이

I firmly believe there's way too much English in Korea. Not only too much English, but too much Gibberlish: English actually has meaning, while Gibberlish is simply decoration, background noise, or a comedic prop. I also firmly believe Korean words should be used rather than simply borrowing words from foreign languages, a process that not only strips the original words of meaning and context but can leave people behind. In some cases, such as on menus or cosmetics labels, Koreans are prevented from understanding what they're reading by the overuse of foreign words for seemingly no reason.

However, and this is a point that must be understood and remembered, this overuse of English is a domestic phenomenon. It's Koreans who choose to import these words, to use mangled English instead of Korean, to write their advertisements without Hangeul, to isolate Korean speakers, and to limit their language's creative power. This isn't a foreign invasion, and any efforts at Koreaning-up the Korean language really ought to be a fight against incomprehension and thoughtless language use, rather than a xenophobic one against a foreign language.

A visit to Malteo.net shows they're currently looking at different options for "커플룩," couple look, a phenomenon that's all the evidence you should need that English-speakers aren't behind the overuse of English. *cough*

Hangeul web addresses coming?

The English-language Chosun Ilbo has been running quite a few Korean-language pride articles lately, and they've provided a lot of interesting discussion. There's one I'd especially like to talk about in the future, but for now I'll just share the one about full web addresses in Hangeul. An excerpt from an article on the 27th:

It will soon be possible to access the Chosun Ilbo online by typing in the name in Hangeul (조선일보.한국), instead of Latin script. At the opening ceremony of the 36th meeting of the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers (ICANN), president Rod Beckstrom said that a board meeting on Friday will approve plans for a multilingual address system.

Using the Internet will become much easier for many around the world if they can use their own alphabet. Korean is already used as part of web addresses, but the name of the country at the end of the address always had to end in Latin script such as ".kr."

The bit of news is the domain names, I guess, because I always thought Hangeul URL names were possible. I can't find any just now, but I see that typing 네이버, or 한국일보, or 다음, of 인터파크 into my browser will take me directly to those pages. The Chosun Ilbo says that's been around since October, 2000:

Microsoft Korea (MSK) and Real Names are to offer Korean domain services, which allows people to type in Korean Hangeul characters to visit Internet sites. For example, to read the Chosun Ilbo, people do not have to type in "www.chosun.com" in English but simply "조선일보" in the search box of the Internet Explorer browser, explained Kim Ki-hun, the Korean manager of Real Names on Monday.

Therefore, to go to the President's Office, Chong Wa Dae, instead of writing "www.bluehouse.go.kr", "www.chongwadae.go.kr" or "www.cwd.go.kr," Koreans can just type in the Korean word, "청와대."

In the Korea Times talking about Konglish.

If you subscribe to my rss feed---you can do so with the button atop my page---you'll see the original entry I wrote last night, though I decided to delete it because it came across as too harsh. For the benefit of readers who may have seen my name in the paper, though, I will explain my remarks in today's Korea Times article "'Konglish' Proves to be Double-Edged Sword." Here's an excerpt as it appeared on the website last night, and in the paper today:

How do you order an apple-cinnamon-flavored pretzel ― written in Konglish on the menu board ― in Korean, using a native-English speaker's accent?

The situation may sound comedic, but behind the inevitable verbal faux pas is a more serious issue: English that is written and spoken in Korean.

Konglish, or English words written in Hangeul, the Korean alphabet, is an increasing phenomenon that contributes positively on a cultural level but negatively on a linguistic one for natives and foreigners alike.

"(The overuse of English) actually makes it harder for Koreans," said Brian Deutsch, a former English teacher of four years.

"They are so accustomed to pronouncing these borrowed words the Korean way that they can't adjust to English pronunciations and meanings."

Korean vocabulary can also be lost after a Konglish word is introduced and overtakes the former as the more popular alternative. In some cases, the original Korean or Chinese-derived word is less emphasized, or not even taught to Korean-language students.

Deutsch, an intermediate-level Korean-language student, has seen the impact first hand.

"When studying in class I invariably learn only the English cognate," he said. "In cases where there's a suitable Korean word, it makes me wonder why an English word has come into popular usage."

I was approached for the article, and did an email interview with the author, based in part on what I've written recently about all the English in Korea (here, here, and here, for example.) I've said here, and indeed in the interview, that the overuse of English makes it that much harder for Koreans to learn English because their pronunciation, for one thing, is thrown way off. Here's my answer in the interview:

The overuse of English in Korea has a few negative consequences. It actually makes it harder for Koreans who are learning English, because they are so accustomed to pronouncing these borrowed words the Korean way that they can’t adjust to English pronunciations and meanings. Even English teachers with decades of experience cannot produce some of English’s sounds, and the with so many English words being used in daily Korean speech, it’s harder for students to adjust to the demands of the other language.

My quotation in the paper, though, makes it sound like the overuse of English is hard for Koreans in general. It kills my ears to hear the way English---or Engrish, or Gibberish---is pronounced by most people, though it is the Korean pronunciation, not an English one, that is necessary in Korea, so even if the Korean pronunciation of, say, escalator sounds awkward to my ears, it's how they do it in Korea. That said, they would have to adjust it when learning and using English, and this is something far too many students and teachers cannot do. And I still believe, though, there is too much English in Korea, and that it makes more sense to simply use Korean words rather than relying too much on imports.

The quotation was changed on the website today to this:

"(The overuse of English) actually makes it harder for Koreans learning English," said Brian Deutsch, a former English teacher of four years.

I will repost the original comments under this post.

Head of Hunmin-jeongeum Society on sharing Hangeul.

Kim Ju-won, head of the Hunmin-jeongeum Society, has written to the Joongang Ilbo about the aims of sharing Hangeul, the Korean alphabet, with other cultures:

Our mission is by no means aimed to “export or globalize” Hangul or the Korean language. First of all, I would like to draw a clear line between Hangul and the Korean language. Hangul is a means to contain a spoken language. The Cia-Cia tribe will be using the alphabet to propagate and conserve their spoken language, which is on the verge of extinction due to a lack of a mean to write it down. It is a part of a global project led by many linguists to help preserve the indigenous languages of aboriginal communities. So the campaign should be seen in a broader perspective, as part of efforts to conserve the diversity of language and culture, rather than as the simple proliferation of Hangul.

We should also banish the thought that Hangul can be used to express all words. We must overcome and do away with the egocentric belief that our alphabet is all-inclusive.

A similar piece appeared in the Chosun Ilbo in August:

Efforts to spread Hangeul should not be seen as a conquest or cause for nationalistic fervor. They should be seen as an opportunity to share what we have with others. This would be consistent with the original spirit that moved King Sejong to invent Hangeul for an illiterate people.

With this in mind, the Hunminjeongeum Research Institute should use the expression "sharing Hangeul" rather than "the globalization of Hangeul." Proud and patient sharing of our alphabet where it may be needed overseas is something we can hopefully all support.

Hangeul still best Asian writing system for fucking up English words the least.

Roboseyo posted this video earlier today, a "UCC"---a traditional Korean art form---about some Korean college-age students talking about the superiority of Hangeul for rendering sounds.



Except l, r, f, v, z, th, or short i, I guess. It looks like they have the beauty of hangeul locked down, so perhaps next week they can work on their English, especially if they have the arrogance to try and preach in it.







I posted on a similar display back in January, "Apparently Hangeul is the best Asian writing system to use if you want to fuck up English words the least." A video at the National Museum was also using "Hamburger" as a demonstration of the superiority of rendering foreign words through Hangeul.



Other lofty claims were made by a textbook for foreigners trying to learn Korean.

Language is the first precious intangible cultural properties in this world.
Writing is the first valuable tangible cultural propertie in this world.
Amog the rest, The Korean Language and Korean Writing are the greatest cultural inheritance of everything in the world.
Of course, there are only their language and writing in other country, too.
But their language and writing cannot express perfectly each and every.
The Korean Language and Korean Writing can express perfectly everything, everysound, all of thinking, and all of feeling of this world.
Like this, The Korean superior culture be Known to the general public, the foreigners are learning The Korean Language and writing, is getting more and more many.
This book is wrote for the sake of them.

Likewise this Korean blog entry looks at the "Hamburger" example. And here's an anti-Japanese rap song in which Koreans make fun of the way Japanese people pronounce English words.

I am Korean! (I am a Japanese!)
Hey, you, try saying “Al lo byu!” (I rob you!) *1
No! It’s “I low byoo!” (I rob you!)
Are you retarded? Can’t you even pronounce that? (Hai!)
Are you really retarded? (Hai!)
Isn’t your country just fundamentally retarded? (Hai!)

Hangeul has many good points, but its precision at rendering foreign words isn't one of them. It's all a pointless discussion anyway, because the Japanese pronunciation of "hamburger" or "coffee" suit the Japanese language just fine, as the Korean pronunciation suits Korean. But that there are so many English words used in Korean is one reason why Koreans' spoken English is so poor. About the last thing Koreans should be taking pride in is any perceived relative skill in pronouncing English. Hey, you know how painful it is for you to listen to terribly mispronounced Korean?



Yeah, that's what it's like when you do it.

Happy 한글 Day.

Google Korea got into the holiday spirit again for the October 9th holiday Hangeul Day.




And today a statue of King Sejong was unveiled at Gwanghwamun Plaza today.



A very interesting article about the plaza and the false history used to market it here. Starbucks, too, marked the occasion.



I haven't been to Starbucks in several months; is it unusual to have Hangeul on the cups? If it is, perhaps they could have used something a little more, um, Korean than "세어드 플래닛." The point of Hangeul was to help the common people read, so why write something that a small fraction of people will truly understand?

These people marked the occasion as well.



This Korea Times article talks about the various Hangeul-related events and exhibitions, including the one shown above at Gyeongbokgung.

It will be a day, I'm sure, of columns in the local English-language papers about the need to globalize Hangeul. The Times got started last night:

It's time for policymakers, scholars and educators to promote the globalization of Hangeul. The government plans to create an integrated Korean learning center named after King Sejong abroad to effectively spread the use of the language and the alphabet. It is also important to take advantage of Hallyu, the boom of Korean pop culture abroad, to share Korea's heritage with people around the globe.

Recently an Indonesian tribe decided to adopt Hangeul as their written language, and there was a good discussion about that in this comment section and continued on An Acorn in the Dog's Food. But I still wonder how something so closely tied to Korean culture and pride can coexist with globalization. Indeed the talk of globalizing the alphabet goes hand-in-hand with Hallyu, the effort to force spread Korean culture around the world. But it's not only 28-year-old bloggers who notice it; from the Chosun Ilbo today:

Academics, too, are wary of the charge of cultural imperialism. "A written language is not something that is deliberately supplied by the side that owns it, but borrowed by the side that needs it," said Kang Chang-seok, a professor of Korean language and literature at Chungbuk National University. "It's problematic to use words such as 'supply' or 'export' that can lead to negative perceptions."

Last year I made fun of the obsession with Hangeul a little bit. I especially liked this comment from a Korean fashion designer:

"When I was at the Moscow collection last year, clients came to see the show in clothes featuring Hangeul," Lie said. "I can't express how touched I was to see them. Can you imagine people walking around with our language printed on their shirts and pants?"

Christ Almighty, yes I can, and it's not pretty.

Or things like this preface to a textbook for learning Korean:

Language is the first precious intangible cultural properties in this world.
Writing is the first valuable tangible cultural propertie in this world.
Amog the rest, The Korean Language and Korean Writing are the greatest cultural inheritance of everything in the world.
Of course, there are only their language and writing in other country, too.
But their language and writing cannot express perfectly each and every.
The Korean Language and Korean Writing can express perfectly everything, everysound, all of thinking, and all of feeling of this world.
Like this, The Korean superior culture be Known to the general public, the foreigners are learning The Korean Language and writing, is getting more and more many.
This book is wrote for the sake of them.

There's no need to write out how we feel about crap like that, so instead I'll close with what Roboseyo had to say in the comment section:

Hangeul IS a great system...in my opinion, the highest achievement of Korean culture, and Sejong IS my favourite Korean. I think they should combine a few of the Korean flag days (independence day, independence MOVEMENT day, memorial day) into one four day weekend, and give hangeul day the national no-work-status it deserves...
and then add a few extra characters for some of the foreign sounds that don't exist in Korean.

Too much English in Korea? Yep, and don't look at us, it's not our fault.

From the Chosun Ilbo yesterday:

An office worker in his 30s said, "When I order coffee, I wonder whether I'm in Korea or America, hearing all the words that are used mixing English and Korean." One Internet portal even posted advice on how to avoid humiliation in coffee shops. "Just ask for 'original' coffee if the shop worker keeps using strange words," one advice reads. At Starbucks in Korea, milk is the only item written in Korean on a menu listing around 50 different drinks.
Stress levels began rising in the mid-1990s when so-called "family" restaurant chains began to pop up in Korea. T.G.I. Friday's, Bennigans, Outback Steakhouse and other restaurants featured menus in English, or words created by mixing Korean and English. The trend continues to this day: all nine restaurant and bakery chains operated by CJ Food Ville with their 1,400 outlets have foreign names.
The bakery chain is called "Tous les Jours," the coffee chain "A Twosome Place," while an ice cream chain is called "Cold Stone Creamery." Even a CJ chain that sells the Korean dish bibimbap is called "Café Sobahn." Its menu too is full of foreign words.
The problem gets worse when it comes to children's snacks. According to a study by a newspaper last year, 54.6 percent of 449 different snacks in production had names that included foreign words. Only 31.2 percent of the snacks had purely Korean names.

In the US I think customers are, at least at first, simlarly confused and annoyed by all the Italian you find at Starbucks. A lot of the drink names at coffee shops derive from Italian, so in Korea it's not actually "all the words that are used mixing English and Korean."

I posted a similar article earlier in the year. From the Korea Times:

Many Koreans have read names such as ``Lac Vert'' (green lake) ``Ma Monde'' (my world) ``Near Skin Visible Deep Wrinkle…'' ``Teint Eclat'' (bright color) and many others on their cosmetic labels at home.

They make sense to people who understand English or French but many people here have been complaining that the names of the brands are too difficult for ordinary Koreans to understand.

``They could use such language if they were imported, but sometimes even original Korean brands have such names,'' 27-year-old office worker Lee Ji-hye said.

``Few can understand the real concept of the products, but the companies seemed not to mind at all. Do the manufacturers think having foreign names make them look classier and expensive?'' she asked.

I've always said that the amount of English and "English" used over here is ridiculous, but I go a different direction with it, and am contemplating using the topic for a future Herald piece when I flesh it out more. But first let's look at how the original Chosun Ilbo piece continues:

But children and teens who are loyal customers of the snacks do not look favorably upon the foreign names. Eight students at Doseong Elementary School in Pyeongchang, Gangwon Province sent a letter in 2007 to the heads of confectioners asking them to use Korean names. The petition drew support from around 1,000 people after it was posted on an Internet portal. At about the same time, a survey of third- and fourth-graders in elementary school showed that 79 percent favored Korean names for snacks, saying they sounded more familiar and made it easier to determine what kind of snack it is.
Korean language experts say we may end up thinking that it is only natural for products to have foreign names. This perception becomes ingrained as we become adults and create stereotypes that favor foreign words and developing disdain for our own words.

And, according to that Korea Times article, some companies are taking action:

The Korean Society, a study group on Korean language, Daily Cosmetic and Kolmar Korea said they will hold a competition to pick the best all-Korean cosmetic names under the sponsorship of the government.

``The first stage will be looking out for the best Korean names. Then we will search for the best calligraphy to show them off,'' a spokesman said. The committee is running the Web site www.urimalhjp.kr for applicants until April 30. All applicants must write down Korean names ― regardless of the product ― and explanations and meanings.

I wish there were more Korean used in Korea as well, especially when native Korean words would do just fine. But the way I see it, advocating for more Korean is not simply about preserving Korean, but also protecting English.

The overuse of "English" in Korea has a lot of negative consequences. Like other things in Korea divorced from context---Christmas, rap, Western-style weddings---a lot of this "English" makes sense neither to English-speakers or to the Koreans who use it. Rather, it's simply applied for decoration, and by cheapening the original it renders our culture and language ridiculous. Moreover, having so many English words imported into Korean makes the learning of actual English that much more difficult considering how badly they get mispronounced.

It's really remarkable how much "English" is used in Korean, and I'm not sure why there is such a need to imitate rather than to develop more native words. Using more Korean would seem a victory for Koreans, even though they're the ones who imported all the crap in the first place, but I also think it would be a great development for native English speakers as well, who now often find their language appropriated in weird and confusing ways by people who don't understand what they're saying.

You'll notice I added a banner for "Korean Class 101" a little while ago. I've heard a lot of good things about it, so if you or someone you know is getting into learning Korean, it seems a good way to start. Go ahead and take a look around.

The latest on the Indonesian tribe adopting Hangeul.

One of the stories I missed while I was in Japan in the beginning of August was news that an Indonesian tribe will adopt Hangeul, the Korean alphabet, as its written language. More on that here and here. The Korea Herald has the latest today; a couple excerpts:

The Korean instructors to be sent to Indonesia will teach Hangeul and Korean to the local school teachers, while working on documentation of the Jjia Jjia tribe's culture, history and folktales.

"The best way is to bring the (Indonesian) teachers to Korea and offer them an official Korean education like we did to Abidin, but since they might not be comfortable with the cold weather here, we decided to send our teachers there," said Kim Joo-won, the head of the Hunminjeongeum Society.

The society said it is recruiting qualified teachers who can adapt in Baubau smoothly - those who understand a local culture and focus on offering education to local people.

I kept wondering, while reading through the articles and columns in the local paper, is how an alphabet tied to the Korean language and Korean culture would fit in with foreign ones, and how using the alphabet as a way to globalize Korea will serve the interests of people in other countries.

Furthermore, as I wrote when we read last year about Koreans trying to globalize their alphabet, and about Indonesians in Bau-Bau being receptive to it, it's a perfectly fine system for the Korean language, but it sucks if you're trying to write "f," "v," "l," "r," or "z." And, as many others have said, learning Hangeul will help preserve the language among those in the city who learn how to read it, but it will do nothing to help communication with the outside world. But then again, were communication with the outside world a priority they likely would have come up with a written language before.

Money in place to run Formula One racing in Jeollanam-do next year.

Under construction.

News of the planned Formula One track and Formula One Grand Prix (2010 F1코리아그랑프리) in Yeongam county has been big down here for the past few years, and it looks like today the final pieces fell into place. From Reuters:

Organisers of a planned South Korean Formula One Grand Prix have secured full funding to complete the building of a circuit by July 2010 and operate the race, they said on Tuesday.

The Korea Auto Valley Operation (KAVO) said in a statement it had raised 198 billion won ($159.7 million) in loans under a financing deal with nine local financial institutions.

The rest of a total 434 billion won needed to build a racetrack and run the event would be covered by the organiser's capital and public subsidy, KAVO said.

The 3.4 mile track, designed by Hermann Tilke, is under construction in the southwestern region of South Cholla province.

Those who can navigate Korean websites can find more information and pictures via the official website.

One of the more irritating things about reading Korean news through Western sources unfamiliar with the country is the awkward and inconsistent romanization. Browsing the handful of articles on the topic I see there are two votes for South Cholla (2), three for South Jeolla (1, 2, 3), and one for Jeollanam-do. For those who don't know, "nam" means south, "do" means province.

Jeolla is the correct romanization according to the most recent system, though you'll see the province spelled a bunch of different ways. If you were to write the syllables out, it'd be Jeon ra nam do---and Google turns up over 62,000 results for that---but the n-sound in Jeon and the r-sound in ra blend together into Jeolla. Cholla would be correct according to the old system of romanization, but only if you use the proper diacritic mark and wrote it as Chŏlla. The "ŏ" corresponds to 어, where as plain "o" corresponds to 오, two different sounds. By omitting these diacritic marks---some computers aren't equipped to handle them---you give the reader the impression you're using the newest romanization, leading to confusion between the "ch" and "j" sounds.

It's a tough name to pronounce, and can lead to some embarrassment because not only does Jeolla (전라) mean naked---and is an age-restricted search term on Naver---but I've been told Jolla (졸라) is an adjective similar to "fucking"---"It was really fucking big."---and since foreigners are prone to mispronouncing the province, it can lead to some embarrassment. If I'm not feeling confident, I'll just use the contraction, Jeonnam (전남).


For the past few years the upcoming F1 track in Yeongam has provided many opportunities for festivals and car shows to bring out racing models. Unfortunately, most of them act like eight-year-olds.

So were they American or Armenian?

Yesterday the Chosun Ilbo gave us our daily dose of of white people in hanbok.



With this caption:

Foreigners in traditional Korean costume pose for a picture at the 14th Chicago Korean Festival on Sunday.

Well, they're clearly not Korean, but are they actually foreigners, or just white people? It's Chicago after all, which means that any Koreans in the audience would be, um, foreigners, along with anyone not a United States citizen. Yonhap ran the same picture yesterday, and identified the three girls by name: Alicia, Felicity, and Iris.

In January I posted an article from Korea Journal, and there was some discussion about whether Koreans can actually be 외국인. Here's an excerpt from the journal article:

Another illustration of the same problem [of referring to natives of another country as foreigners in that country] occurred in a Korean restaurant in San Francisco, where I was eating dinner with a young Korean man doing graduate studies at Berkeley. Pointing to a group of non-Asian diners at a nearby table, he remarked, "A lot of foreigners come to this restaurant." It was all I could do to continue chewing my 냉면 without blurting out, "You're absolutely right, Mr. Kim, and you're one of them!" Apparently there is a dissonance between the English word, foreigner, and the Korean conceptual model.

In English, the word refers to an abstract relationsihp, not an intrinstic attribute. Nobody is inherently a foreigner; anyone can become on simply by crossing a national border. Foreignness is a question of context, not essence. Ms. Kwon in Canada and Mr. Kim in San Francisco, for example, fit the English meaning of foreigner, as would a Canadian missionary in Taejon or an American pursuing graduate studies in Seoul National University.

But the Korean-English sense of foreigner is clearly different. It is a category in which neither Ms. Kwon not Mr. Kim could ever be included. It is a category in which a Canadian naturally belongs, as he sits reading a newspaper in his own house in his native town in Alberta. Membership in this category is defined at birth, is completely context-free and is absolutely permanent. One group of people, including Ms. Kwon and Mr. Kim, can never, under any circumstances, belong to the Korean-English category, foreigner, whereas the members of another group are born as foreigners, will die as foreigners and will always be foreigners, no matter where they are. More remarkable still, this second group includes something like ninety-eight percent of the human race.

The discussion in the comments section, and also carried over onto Gypsy Scholar's post on the same topic, centers around mostly whether "foreigner" is an accurate translation of "외국인" and, if 외국인 always applies to non-Koreans, whether Koreans visiting other countries are in fact surrounded by 외국인 when they're amongst the locals.

Test of Proficiency in Korea [TOPIK] registration through July 15th.

Late notice on this---and it turns out I won't even be in the country to take this *grumble* ---but the Test of Proficiency in Korean will be held in Korea on September 13th, with registration open through July 15th. If you want to sign up you'll have to first create a login ID on the Korean-language website. More information, in Korean, is available via the .pdf file posted here.

The test for beginners will run from 9:00 to 12:30, the intermediate exam from 14:00 to 17:30, and for advanced . . . well, if you're taking the advanced exam you can make sense of the .pdf file yourself. There are eleven testing centers in Korea, listed both here and on page four of the aforementioned .pdf; the one nearest us is the at the Language Education Center at Chonnam National University in Gwangju.

There are six levels, but three tests. A couple of years ago there were six separate exams, but now there are three. Those who take the beginner exam (초급) and score over 70% will finish with Level 2; those earning between 40% and 69% below will get Level 1. The same pattern follows for both intermediate and advanced levels. One result is that those who see themselves as a Level 3 will have to contend with questions on the higher level. A person who earns below the lower threshold---40% on the lower level, 50% on the upper---on any of the four portions will earn the lower level. The example given on page 5 says that a person who takes the beginner level test and scores 82% on vocab/grammar, 48% on writing, 76% on listening, and 80% on reading will have an average of 71.5%, but because the test taker scored below 50% on the writing portion, s/he will earn Level 1. There is a breakdown, in Korean, of expectations for each level here.

If anyone has any resources they found particularly useful in preparing for the exam, feel free to share them below. You can view previous exams and their results on this forum on the TOPIK page, a website that is extremely irritating to navigate, and which I guess is in and of itself a test of Korean proficiency because there is no meaningful information provided in English. I was under the assumption the fall exams were in October, but since it is during the time I planned to spend back home, I'm debating whether I should come back to Korea a week earlier to take it, or simply wait until the next time. I took it in April, 2008, and earned Level 2. My scores were above 90% for all areas except writing, which was in the 70s. John B said in an earlier post about TOPIK that

It's worth noting that the Korea Foundation supposedly gives preference to grant and fellowship applicants who have TOPIK or KEPT scores to demonstrate their language proficiency, as opposed to university transcripts or language school certificates.

For me, I want to take the exam again because language proficiency is something I can take home with me. Sure, if I ever get good at Korean my language skills will speak for themselves, but in the meantime it's nice to have a tangible record of my time overseas and my time spent studying, even if my Korean is only a modest high-beginner level.