Nationalism and Language

The Chosun Ilbo, one of South Korea’s mass-circulation dailies, published a big article in its Internet edition the other day criticizing some stores along Sejong Boulevard in the heart of Seoul for having their store signs in English. The newspaper said its survey showed that out of 58 stores, 18 or about one third had store signs in English.

What is outrageous and shameful, the paper suggested, is that those English signs were overshadowing the statue of King Sejong (r. 1397-1450), fourth monarch of the Choson Kingdom, who invented the Korean alphabet some 560 years ago. A statue of King Sejong was unveiled in nearby Kwanghwamun Plaza on October 9, celebrated as Alphabet Day.

The phenomenon clearly shows, the paper declared, that Han-gul or the Korean alphabet, which has been praised by linguistic scholars around the globe as the most scientific in the world “was being pushed aside” by English.

Reading the article, I was reminded of the fact that in the course of our lives, we Korans all have moments of patriotic fervor and feel a deep love for our language as well as all other things inherently Korean.

But what I could not understand was that, only a few years ago, Korea’s mass media, including the Chosun Ilbo, were exhorting the public day in and day out about the need to globalize the country. Hardly a week went by without one of the newspapers or broadcasting networks coming out and urging the people to try and turn the country into “an international hub” of one thing or other so that “we can stand tall” in the ranks of advanced nations.

Even now, I am sure, they would dearly love to be the center of the world. But how do they propose to realize their dream when they reject the use of English?

Heaven knows I have not been an advocate of English as an international language. Whether we like it or not, however, English is the most widely used—and therefore useful and convenient—language in the world today. Let’s face it, without a rudimental knowledge of English, it is very difficult to find our way around in other countries, much less communicate with other people.

Some Koreans suggested that they should try and make Korean an international language, presumably replacing English. How could we do that, though? Without becoming a superpower, how could we force other people to use Korean in place of English? It is one of the most impractical things to propose. It is just a pipedream, I am sorry to say.

Just imagine. Would the Russians, for instance, recognize that 삼성 on huge advertising billboards on buildings in Moscow was the Samsung business group of Korea or would Italians understand that the Korean cars that are running on the streets of Rome were produced by 현대, instead of Hyundai? Not in our lifetime, if ever, I am afraid.

We must also remember, people of other countries love their own language as much as we do and yet, they, too, like we, Koreans, see the need for the use of English when they are forced to communicate with others. Needless to say, English is the most widely used and understood language not only in diplomacy and world trade but also in scholastic journals and textbooks as well as in tourism. That’s why we are spending billions of won to teach our children English.

A group of accompanying photos that illustrated the Chosun Ilbo report showed the stores with such signs as: “Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf,” “Dunkin’ Donuts,” and “Hollys Coffee,” among others. It is obvious that most of them are franchise stores of foreign companies. We cannot blame them, therefore, for using their franchisees’ names.

The French are well known as lovers of their language. There are still many who still believe that French is a better language than any other and that French should be the international language. When I visited Paris in the 1960s, I ran into many Frenchmen and women who refused to talk to me in English, even though, I suspected, they understood it all too well.

But even they couldn’t do anything about the “invasion,” as they put it, of the English language and American cultural influence. When I visited France last summer, I saw many “McDonald’s” stores all around Paris and other big cities; most shop owners and hotel clerks, who used to refuse to talk me in English, were speaking in fluent English.

The French have obviously learned their linguistic lesson and realize that they can’t go against the worldwide trend and that it was wise for them to use English in order to accommodate the millions of foreign tourists that pour billions of dollars into their country’s economy every year.

We often hear that many foreign tourists, visiting Japan and China, skip South Korea, and one of the reasons for doing so is—yes, you guessed it—the language difficulty. Because of the lack of street signs in English, for instance, it is extremely difficult for them to find their way around Seoul, let alone smaller cities. They also complain that they have a hard time trying to find suitable restaurants other than those in the hotels where they are staying. It’s also impossible, they say, to find public restrooms in the middle of Seoul.

You don’t have to be French or Italians to realize how important the tourism industry is for a nation’s economy. Unless South Koreans are ready to live in a closed society, like the North Koreans, we should not reject everything foreign, including English store signs, as the Chosun Ilbo apparently prefers us to do.

Last summer, I had a chance to tour the capitals of Scandinavian countries as well as Germany. And I was impressed by the fluent command of English of ordinary citizens in those countries, but at the same time, I could see that they also loved their own language. They have their own unique culture based on their language. This is why I come to believe that using English or any other foreign language does not necessarily mean we love our own language less.
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