The fish that judge you

A few years ago I studied the existential philosopher Martin Heidegger and his teachings continue to shape my experiences as I live and work in South Korea. One of Heidegger’s fundamental principles is that all people are governed by a basic, underlying culture that shapes the way they think, the way they act – that dictates a realm of possibilities for their everyday life.

Every day, I'm amazed at how the Korean way of thinking and acting is different from my own American way of thinking at a very basic level. I've heard clichéd interpretations of a "collectivist society," but these explanations are too simple to adequately explain everything I've experienced. Recently, through conversations with my Korean girlfriend I've stumbled upon an intriguing allegory – a story that made me feel as though I could see directly into her heart.

My girlfriend told me that when she was a child, she was wary of being near a fish aquarium because no matter where she stood, the fish seemed to be staring at her, and more importantly, unceasingly judging her. She said she was always on her best behavior in front of those fish. 

This is a really cute story and I love to imagine my girlfriend acting well-mannered in front of pets. However, when I (as an American) start to think about how alien this thought process is to my own childhood, it quickly becomes apparent that Koreans are thinking differently at very fundamental levels.

Stories stick with you easily, and ever since she told me about the judging fish, I view everything my girlfriend says and everything Koreans do through the judging fish prism. Below I've outlined some Korean cultural curiosities and stories from my girlfriend which elaborate on the fish that judge you.

Don't jaywalk

Jaywalking is a normal phenomenon worldwide, and indeed is often necessary. When I traveled through Vietnam (also a "collectivist society") I learned to jaywalk like a pro. Yet in Korea, even on the smallest of streets, Jaywalking is extremely rare. I was always told that there was a "collectivist" propensity to obey rules, but the difference in Korea is deeper than that.

Whenever I'm with my girlfriend, she never wants to jaywalk with me and one day she explained why. She said that in Korea, no matter where you are, there will almost always be children around. If you jaywalk across the road and children see you doing it, they'll get the idea that this behavior is okay. They'll do it in the future, and they might even get hurt doing it. This fits with the judging fish allegory because the belief is that no matter where you are or what you do, you're being scrutinized, so you'd better keep your behavior up to par.

The ubiquitous camera

Walk the recesses of an ancient fortress, stroll through the halls of any building, stand at any street corner. Chances are you're on camera. Whereas in English-speaking countries we have a strong concept of "big brother" and other 1984-inspired concepts, as well as a strong aversion to the invasion of our privacy, in Korea it's perfectly normal to be constantly on camera, purportedly as a measure to deter crime.

Indeed, every classroom that I work in is rigged with a camera and microphone. At any time, interested parents can view the class from reception area of our school. Parents know this, teachers know this, and students know this – everyone is aware of this but also thinks little of it. That's because the cameras are simply an extension to the judging fish; it's already normal to live a life of perpetual scrutiny, so the ubiquitous camera is a technological enhancement to an already-accepted cultural phenomenon.

Hard work is good because people think hard work is good

Korea has a national obsession with education. In addition to their core public schooling, Korean students attend a mishmash of private academics on a range of subjects including English, Math, the Sciences...even martial arts such as Taekwondo. Because of their time spent traveling from one academy to another, and because of their huge homework and study workloads, it is not uncommon for students to get less than 5 hours of sleep each day. Many finish their school "day" at midnight or 1am, at which point they take a bus home and begin their homework. When asked what their favorite thing to do is, many Korean students have told me that they simply "love to sleep."

My girlfriend told me similar stories about her years in high school. She went to one of the best high schools in the city, which meant that she endured seemingly unceasing work. She went to class 365 days a year, slept 5 hours a day for a year, memorized 200 English words every day, and the list goes on. To my amazement, my girlfriend described a world that was completely alien to my American childhood of video games, school dances, long vacations, and relative leisure.

So in the end, was it all worth it? After detailing all her trying high school years to me, my girlfriend admitted to me that she knew her workload was unnecessarily large. She said that this brute force method of learning was "inefficient" – that she forgot much or even most of what she learned. Yet she said that whenever she meets other people, especially older Koreans, and tells them where she attended high school, she feels that they actually treat her much better. They show her respect for her hard work, and because of this respect she said, of course, that her hard school work was definitely worth it. If the judging fish approve, that's all that really matters.