This is the twenty-first installment of The Cocoon Goes Global, a series that gives a sense of what the philosophy profession looks like outside of the Anglophone West. After a brief hiatus, we are very pleased to start this series again and we hope to basically keep going. If you live in a non-anglophone country and work as a philosopher in higher education, and would like to be featured, please get in touch.
This guest post is written by Natalja Deng who is an Associate Professor of Philosophy at Underwood International College, Yonsei University, Seoul/Incheon, South Korea.
South Korea is a pretty amazing place. It’s got a fascinating history, a vibrant ancient and contemporary culture, a great standard of living, and a language that’s difficult but also rather fun to try to learn. I’ve lived here for four years and I’ve barely scratched the surface of all there is to discover.
SK’s population is around 52 million. Of these, 25 million live in the Seoul Capital Area, which comprises Seoul itself (10 million), Incheon (second syllable rhymes with ‘won’), and Gyeonggi Province. The number of expats is relatively small but steadily rising; in 2019, there were 2.5 million. SK has one of the largest American expat populations (over 100,000).
About half the population is affiliated with a religion; most are Christian (about 28%) or Buddhist (about 15%). Apparently, Shamanism (a set of practices based on the belief that the natural world is animated by spirits) also continues to exert an influence, though my only first-hand experience of this has been hearing Shamanism-related chanting while hiking on Inwangsan, one of the many, lovely mountains/hills in and around Seoul. Confucianism’s influence, on the other hand, is tangible. A form of Confucianism was the state ideology during the Joseon dynasty (1392-1910) and it has left numerous traces in Korean society.
One legacy of Confucianism is a strong emphasis on education. This includes an intense focus on exam results and getting into what are perceived to be the best universities. The university entrance exam (‘suneung’) is famously exhausting to prepare for. High-school students typically study round the clock for months or even years. More generally, competition is a facet of many aspects of life in Korea.
In practice, this means that students are hard-working, polite and conscientious; they are also very bright (judging by my and my colleagues’ experiences at UIC and other institutions). Their English is generally good, with outliers at both ends. Again, due to the Confucian heritage, professors are highly regarded by society including the students, and it is not uncommon for students to express a lot of gratitude and enthusiasm as part of daily interactions. The flipside is that students are somewhat less accustomed to speaking up or challenging received wisdom, and less comfortable pushing ‘why’ questions. Also, sometimes their focus on grades and being used to ‘getting all the answers right’ can lead to disappointment. But all this only makes teaching them Philosophy and Critical Reasoning more rewarding. Conversely, teaching here has added a new dimension to my appreciation of what Philosophy and Critical Reasoning have to offer to students globally.
The teaching requirement at the top universities tends to be 2/2 for tenure-track faculty, with 3 contact hours a week per course. The year starts with ‘Seollal’, the Korean New Year, so the first semester is the Spring semester (March to end of June) and the second is the Fall semester (September to end of December).
SK has about 140 universities, six of which the 2021 QS global university ranking lists as among the top 100 worldwide. To my knowledge, doing a philosophy graduate degree in Korea requires fluency in Korean. There are sometimes postdoctoral positions, but they tend to be associated with particular grants. The most likely way to enter SK as a non- Korean speaking philosopher, then, is as an Assistant professor.
The system is roughly based on the US model, with progression to Associate and later to Full Professor. One salient difference is that getting promoted and getting tenure are separate processes. Often (though not always) the latter happens at the Full Professor rather than the Associate level. There are expat philosophers working in philosophy departments at a number of universities. UIC is unusual in that it contains a cluster of international faculty, including a reasonable size group of philosophers. We work and teach together with historians and literature scholars in a department-like (‘Common Curriculum’) unit, which has been very rewarding. In the wider Korean philosophical community, many scholars (though not all) publish exclusively in Korean journals. There are opportunities for interaction, but often these don’t come ready-made. More generally, working with Korean colleagues and administrators can mean navigating cultural differences and seeking ways to overcome such barriers through mutual adjustment, and by being open to unfamiliar ways of operating. One mundane example of this is that administrative work tends to involve rather short notice requests.
Having said that, the defining feature of academic life here (again this seems to tally with experiences at institutions other than my own) is that there are relatively few administrative duties. The publication requirements are fairly rigid (though not necessarily unreasonable) and the assessment system is largely quantitative. At UIC, there are a number of kinds of research funds available, some of them competitive. As for government grants, these are extremely difficult for foreigners to secure (though it has been done).
Life here is generally very easy and convenient, with short waiting times and short delivery times - there was a vibrant online shopping culture even before the pandemic. This is especially noticeable once one has cleared some initial hurdles of getting set up. Fellow expats, including colleagues, are often a great source of help and support. Housing in Seoul can be a bit expensive, but as a new faculty member one is likely to receive generous housing support. Food prices vary wildly depending on one's habits and preferences; Korean food in restaurants and small eateries is often very affordable (and delicious).
Seoul is a very lively city, a mosaic of varied neighborhoods with lots of quirky and fun places to visit and things to do. Overall, the main downside of living here as an expat is one that probably isn't unique to Korea: it's that true integration can be a challenge, partly because the language is not easy and partly due to cultural distance. Whether and to what extent this is felt as a problem will depend on personal inclination and circumstance. A conclusive assessment of the prospects and possibilities for expat life here isn't possible, for the same reasons that a conclusive assessment of the prospects and possibilities for Korean society isn’t possible, especially by an outsider. What’s clear is that living here is an adventure.
Thanks to Casey McCoy, Grant Fisher, Anthony Adler and Nikolaj Pedersen for their input.
Thanks Natalja. It's an exciting posting, especially for knowing that a philosopher of time is in Korea. I enjoyed reading your sharp analysis of both cultural and academic aspects of Korea. I am an assistant professor of a national university in Korea, and I believe that your analysis is mostly correct. ("Mostly" because I have a heavy load of administrative duties...)
Posted by: Korean philosopher | 03/01/2021 at 11:20 PM
I'm glad to see another installment of the Cocoon Goes Global series, and very glad to see one done on philosophy in Korea. Thanks to everyone involved, especially Natalja!
There are two things that Natalja mentioned that I find especially interesting.
The first is the influence of Confucianism on academic culture. I find that it is very similar to my experiences in China. I'm curious to hear what strategies (if any!) have been especially effective in getting students to participate and challenge the received wisdom. Speaking personally, this is something that I still struggle to figure out.
The second is the short notice on administrative things (like meetings, I assume). Again, this aligns with my experience in China. Does anyone have a sense for what causes this? I find it very frustrating!
Posted by: Peter Finocchiaro | 03/08/2021 at 04:56 AM