Korean Democracy in Action

A quote for the history books:

“We now realize that we are unable to represent the voices of working- and middle-class citizens properly in the legislature where all decisions are made based on votes,” Park said.

Another mistranslation of a New York Times article.

뉴욕타임스 ‘똥개(?)같은 한국 민주주의’

Here is the translation of the above Korean headline:

New York Times: “Shit dog(?) like Korean Democracy”

Here is the New York Times article in question and the relevent quote from the article:

“South Korean Lawmakers Clash Over Fate of Trade Deal With U.S.”

Violent clashes in the National Assembly are not unheard of, reflecting the nation’s feisty brand of democracy.

Here is how Jo Gap-je, the former representative of “Monthy Chosun” translated the sentence on his Web page, which is what the above Korean article is referring to:

한국 국회에서 폭력적 충돌은 처음이 아니다. 이는 한국의 잡종강아지 같이 파괴적인 민주주의를 표상하고 있다.

Violent clashes in the National Assembly are not unheard of, which reflects the mongrel-dog-like, destructive democracy of Korea.

Does “mongrel-dog-like, destructive” really reflect the meaning of “feisty”? Why not use “적극적인” or “성마른”?

And why does the Korean article change Jo’s 잡종강아지 to 똥개? The Korean article seems to trying to stir up Korean anger against the New York Times article, and by extention, the United States.

By the way, I hate those stupid question marks that Korean journalists like to use when they want to make their silly insinuations.

What kinds of people become politicians in Korea?

I am not sure, but I have a strong feeling that they are not Korea’s best and brightest. They may be experts at networking, but I get the impression they are not really deep thinkers. In Korea, the phrase, “It’s not what you know; it’s who you know,” seems to ring especially true.

In Korea, padded resumes, questionable college degrees, and name-dropping galore seem to be the keys to political success. For example, I used to know a guy whose dream was to become a national assemblyman. When I met him, he was running a small “ungbyeong hakwon,” which was a school that taught public speaking to children. He was a nice enough guy, but almost everything he did was geared toward networking, including, I think, being friends with me. It was a time in Korea when having a foreign friend carried some weight, at least, in his mind.

The man used to invite me out just to go around and introduce me to all of his friends and acquaintances. The introductions were often embarrassing because he almost always padded my resume. I think he was only a high school graduate, but he somehow got into a night-school master’s program that seemed to take only a few months to complete. He never explained to me exactly how that worked.

We drifted apart after cell phones became popular in Korea because everytime he would invite me out, he spent almost all of our time together on his stupid cell phone taking calls and making calls. I think he was trying to show me how important he was, even though he had still had not been elected to any office. However, the last I heard he was finally elected as a city councilman for a fairly large city near Seoul. I wish him luck.

I guess average people can make a difference in politics, but it seems that Korea’s politicians are too absorbed in networking and infighting to really care about the people.