Cozmopolitan Sunkyoung

From a web article I stumbled upon yesterday, I read a quote by Ryu Murakami, “Japan has everything. The only thing that it doesn’t have is hope.” Without having any background information when he said this or in what context he mentioned this, I just felt that it was a bleak view and that he was using self-deprecation.

When I told a friend of mine about Murakami’s quote during the lunch break today, he shared what his another friend had told him about her recent experience with disaster relief activities in Fukushima. The main point was that although volunteers are instrumental for the recovery and rebuilding of communities, in order to re-establish local economies and livelihoods of peoples, government should become the spearhead of fundamental recovery. However, it seems like that the government has failed to build trust with its people.

Frustrated, disappointed, but somehow I saw the gleam of hope at the end of our conversation. We suffer and agonise because we are human beings. But we are not alone. People are hope, after all.

Earlier tonight, I searched on the Internet Murakami’s original quote in Japanese. And it turned out that he wrote these phrases (“This country has everything. You can find whatever you want here. The only thing you can’t find is hope.”) in a novel over ten years ago. In his column he wrote soon after the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, however, Murakami talked about “planting the seed of hope”.

“But for all we’ve lost, hope is in fact one thing we Japanese have regained. The great earthquake and tsunami have robbed us of many lives and resources. But we who were so intoxicated with our own prosperity have once again planted the seed of hope. So I choose to believe.”

The column translated in English: “Amid Shortages, a Surplus of Hope“
The article in Japanese: “危機的状況の中の希望“

The other day I was having lunch with my colleagues in a kalguksu restaurant located in a small alley in Jongno 3-ga. One of them suddenly noted that there were some Japanese tourists at another table and continued, saying,

“I’m not sure this is because I have learned a lot about history, I really hate the Japanese.”

This led me to question that ‘if one truly learns about history, shouldn’t it result in one recognising a historical event not a source of hatred?’ It’s not that I agree to idea of colonialism but I think the way one recognises a country should be based on a comprehensive understanding of things, if they really want to learn about history.

Another colleague, after hearing these words of hatred, added his own story. On an evening at home, there was something about ancient China on TV and his wife said,

“Those Chinese barbarians…¹ “

So my colleague said to his wife,

“Hey, that’s funny you call them ‘barbarians’. To Chinese people, we ARE the barbarians.”

I totally agreed with him from the viewpoint of comparative recognition.

When I think of history, more specifically the relationship with neighbouring countries, I have come to the realisation of huge impact of history education in forming one’s recognition and identification with a nation. If it goes further to influence the next generation, it becomes more clear that we should ensure our historical understanding avoids a wrong-headed emotion, absolutist concepts, and excessive generalisation.

 
며칠 전에 회사 사람들이랑 종로 3가 골목길에 위치한 칼국수 집에서 점심을 먹고 있었다. 그 중 한 명이 갑자기 다른 테이블에 일본 사람들이 와 있다며 이렇게 말을 이었다.

“내가 역사를 많이 봐서 그런지는 모르겠는데, 난 일본 사람들이 참 싫어.”

이 말을 듣고서  ‘정말 역사에 대해서 배웠다면 역사적인 사건을 증오의 문제로 인식하지 않아야 하는 것 아닌가?’ 라는 의문이 들었다. 내가 식민주의 발상에 찬성하는 것은 아니지만 정말 역사를 배우게 된다면 한 나라를 인식하는 것은 폭넓은 이해의 바탕에서 이뤄져야 한다고 생각한다.

이 증오를 듣고 난 또 다른 직원이 자신의 이야기를 더했다. 어느 날 집에 있는데 TV에서 고대 중국에 관한 것이 나오고 있었다고 한다. 이걸 본 부인이 하는 말이 이랬단다.

“저 중국 오랑캐들…”

이 말을 듣고 우리 직원이 다음과 같이 말했단다.

“이봐, 중국 사람들을 ‘오랑캐’로 부르는 게 웃긴다. 걔네한테는 우리가 ‘오랑캐’야.”

나는 이 분이 갖고 있는 상대적 인식에 완전 동의했다.

역사를 생각할 때, 특히 이웃 나라들과의 관계를 생각하면 한 나라를 인식하고 규명하는 데에 역사 교육이 얼마나 큰 영향을 미치는 지 알 수 있다. 이 생각이 다음 세대에 미치는 영향까지 뻗어나가면, 역사에 대한 이해가 비뚤어진 감정과 절대적인 개념, 지나친 일반화와 멀어져야 한다는 것은 너무나 자명해진다.

1. The word that she actually said was the Korean word, ‘오랑캐(Orangkae)’, a degrading term for the Nuzhen tribe (女眞族) in Manchurian area in the previous millennium. ’Barbarian’ is normally translated in Korean as ‘野蠻人’. [↩]