Korea, Expats and Amoral Familism (or Learning not to Feel)

In his 1958 book The Moral Basis of a Backward Society Edward Banfield used the term Amoral Familism to describe what he saw as the tendency of poor rural Italians to concern themselves only with the condition of their own family members to the exclusion of outsiders.  This, he believed, led to a society in which people were unable to work together for the common good.

Sociology is a crowded field, full of those desperate to make a quick and easy name for themselves without having to spend years immersed in dread statistics, and thus there are as many refutations of this idea as there are bearded grad students in Boston.  Since I entertain no fantasies about becoming a professional sociologist, you can consider my slight rethinking of the idea sincere, rather than a desperate attempt to carve out a niche for myself in the cutthroat world of academia.

Amoral familism is an interesting idea, but I rather think it’s a little more universal to discuss society as consisting of a series of scales.  What amoral familism describes is a society in which people’s concern for others extends only to those in their own family, however drawing a distinction between those you care about and those you don’t is a universal human trait.  Those who fall outside of one’s circle of concern are non-entities, non-people whose fates carry no meaning to oneself.  Amoral familism is at or close to one extreme, in which one cares strongly for one’s family to the exclusion of outsiders.  In Banfield’s original example even neighbors meant nothing to the people of the impoverished Italian village he studied.  These people, who had suffered greatly in the course of World War II, were drawn inward and retreated into their families, whom they could always count on, rather than extending kindnesses to others without promise of return.

The other end of the extreme is basically what Jesus taught.  Love thy neighbor, as he said, means loving all equally, regardless of whether they are your family, friend, neighbor or even oppressor  This is represented in the above chart as ‘Total acceptance’.  This is also what is taught by many other religions and international organizations.  It is achievable in some dimensions but not all.  One can treat everyone that they meet with respect but to open one’s heart to everyone creates painful conflicts that tear one up inside.  It is wearying to care, after all, and universal compassion will tug your heartstrings a little more than is healthy.  This is why most people espousing this teaching mean for it to be taken with a grain of salt and a knowing wink.  There are a few homeless people who beg in front of the church I go to, and I don’t give them any money, nor do many other churchgoers.  God knows if every person walking into the church gave them money these beggars would make enough to take the rest of the week off.

What I have labeled ‘America’ is basically the system I was raised in.  One aims to treat those closest to you the best, family first and then friends, followed closely by acquaintances and finally strangers, but a certain base level of respect and consideration is extended to all.  There are situations in which this breaks down, naturally, but generally speaking the glue holding the whole system together is empathy.  One tries to be quiet in a restaurant or at a movie because they do not want to bother other people around them, and not because they are forced to by an outside force.  Smokers, driven by their addiction, need some steel themselves in some way (convincing themselves that those who do not complain do not mind; telling themselves that non-smokers are not cool) in order to inflict their habit on non-smokers, or else they simply take it outside.  Again, this is the ideal, not always the case of course.

In Korea, however, the circle of consideration defined by amoral familism is extended to one’s friends, so I would more call it amoral cronyism.  It has often been described by scholars much more learned and knowledgeable than me that Korea is an in-and-out society in which you are either IN, with full privileges and responsibilities, or you are OUT, with neither.  This is nowhere more apparent than on the subway, where it appears that everyone is on their way to a funeral.  People literally turn their faces off, I assume on the thinking that no facial expression is owed this sea of human obstacles crowding around them.  People on subways and streets shove, push, and squeeze by without acknowledging either their fellow pedestrians’ humanity or personal space.  It is like wading through the sea of lost souls in purgatory.  The other day I was walking out of a large supermarket with the blank, bored and supercilious expression that I clamp on whenever I am out on my own, so that nobody will try to talk to me.  Amid the ocean of bobbing human faces I spotted one that I thought I recognized.  It was a face I’d seen many times before, but never before had I seen it blanched of all feeling or human emotion.  It was my sister-in-law.  I stopped her and we both took off our thick masks of indifference, smiling warmly at each other and breaking the zombie spell.  Each of us asked the other “What’s wrong?  You look like there’s something wrong.  Why are you frowning?”

The differences between the two systems are evident from the beginning of one’s life as a social creature.  When American children do something disruptive or harmful (like screaming and running around a restaurant) they are typically stopped and asked “How would you like it if you were trying to enjoy your dinner and someone was running around screaming bloody murder?  I bet you wouldn’t like it.”  This is empathy training.  Empathy doesn’t just spring forth fully formed, nor does morality, despite what Richard Dawkins may think.  Korean children, on the other hand, are dealt with in different ways.  One common event in any Korean child’s life is when they are allowed by their absent-minded or distracted parents to play with, for example, a full glass of water.  They play, their parents happy for the providential moments of peace and quiet, until the inevitable happens, and the glass tumbles over, its chilly contents typically pouring into my lap or the lap of an innocent bysitter just like me.  Too late for one stitch, it’s now time for nine, and the child is absent-mindedly chastised while the parent wipes up the spill.  Another common Korean parenting technique is to tell the offending child that he or she looks like an idiot (바보 같애!) or is embarrassing or shameful (아이구, 창피해!).  The final cutting edge parenting technique prevalent in Korea is to tell the child that some unknown person (e.g. a man sitting across from them on the subway) or scary boogie man (i.e. the dreaded ‘man downstairs’ who is going crazy with all the running around he’s hearing) is going to come yell at the offending child.  Parents apparently think that these lazy half-steps towards disciplining their child are better than yelling, correcting or punishing.  Much more effort is put into teaching children how to bow and speak politely than actually being considerate or polite, with mixed results.

What this teaches children is that they need to be just good enough to stay on the good sides of their elders.  Rather than being guided by a moral center, they are instead constantly triangulating what actions they can get away with.  Korean society is full of this constant gentle push and pull.  Someone once observed that Koreans will typically enter negotiations with embarassingly outrageous figures in mind.  It is commonplace for a bill agreed on in advance to be haggled at the last minute, citing the deficient quality of goods or services rendered.  I have often encountered this kind of half-serious demand, and found that standing one’s ground for the briefest of time is enough for these demands to be abandoned with a sort of ‘It was worth a shot.’ of a grin.  These are the little proddings and pokings that these people have learned over a lifetime of dealing with blustery and capricious, half-assed authority figures.

Now of course I am confounding empathy, consideration, and public conduct, but are they mutually exclusive?  It seems to me that they recapitulate at every level of thought.  If you learn to obey your parents only when you are in danger of getting caught, why wouldn’t you bring that attitude to work?  If that’s how everyone in the country is raised, why wouldn’t that inborn inclination towards pulling a fast one be the guiding principle of your foreign policy?

Here’s the true dilemma.  I was raised in New York, a place which, like Korea, is known more for its warmth (Koreans call this concept, which they believe hilariously to be exclusive to themselves, jeong (정)) than its politeness.  I was also raised to be considerate of others almost to a fault.  If someone in the house is going to bed, I turn the TV volume down to the point of near inaudibility lest I disturb someone’s sleep.  The thought that someone is uncomfortable because of me is very disturbing, and the mere suggestion that I may have offended someone is enough to start a several-day period of soul-searching.  I learned this from my parents, family, school, and society.  Like most foreigners who come to Korea, my first time in a Seoul throng of shoving, sour-pussed pedestrians was highly frustrating.  Everybody was practically slamming into me but nobody was saying ‘Excuse me.’ or even acknowledging it.  I thought ‘Surely they’re bumping into me and not saying anything all because I am a foreigner.’  I couldn’t yet imagine a country where everybody treated everyone like this.

But of course that is the case.  I imagine that for the average short-term visitor to Korea this doesn’t matter at all.  People often complain about little old ladies cutting in line, but that’s a small price to pay to live in a country where you can teach English all day and drink all night, right dudes?  The issue is more acute for someone like me, with Korean family and a long term stated interest in the country.  The question at hand is ‘How should I behave?”  Should I “When in Rome” it, put on my game face and get shoving?  Or should I try to maintain some of the etiquette that I grew up with?  Should I be courteous and go out of my way to hold the door for people, knowing that the person I’m holding the door open for will probably get shoved out of the way by someone else walking the opposite direction?  Should I give up seats on public transportation for people, knowing full well that the favor will never be returned?

I think you can probably guess that I’ve decided that it is not worth the trouble of attempting to preserve my self respect in a moral vacuum.  I’m better off joining the churning throng of thoughtless, self-interested cads than attempting to stem the tide of rudeness all by myself.  This is the stuff that amoral familism is made of, and it’s made an amoral familist out of me. 

Here’s the rub: What is to others second nature is to me the result of an incredible amount of effort.  It’s hard to be rude when it’s not dyed in the wool.  I may rush to steal seats on the subway from old men carrying huge bags and then dip my head forward, close my eyes and pretend to be asleep while giving myself away by still deftly working my iPod, but unlike everyone else around me who’s doing the same thing, I’m feeling kind of guilty about it while they’re sleeping the sleep of the angels.  Or if I’m not feeling guilty I’m thinking with pride ‘Wow, I’ve really come a long way, I’m not even guilty anymore.’  When I don’t hold the door open for someone, I think to myself ‘You’re not stealing my time, lady.’  Everybody else not holding the door open for anyone is thinking . . . nothing.

~ by joemondello on February 17, 2008.