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clinics are common throughout Korea, attesting to the continuing popularity of the treatment. In the past, practitioners routinely rotated the inserted needles by hand to increase their efficacy. Many have “modernized” the system by attaching wires to the inserted needles and sending weak electrical pulses through them. Some of the chim clinics in Korea cater specifically to foreign residents and visitors.
Western medical authorities are gradually accepting the premise that there is much more to therapy than drugs and surgery, and growing numbers are adding acupuncture to their medical repertoire. An interesting historical note: During the early decades of the Choson dynasty (1392-1910) a special group of women were taught how to treat upper-class female patients with chim because it was forbidden for men, including doctors, to touch women who were not their wives.
Chingu 친구 Cheen-guu
Cultivating Friends
Chingu (cheen-guu), or “friends,” have traditionally occupied a special place in Korean society, but not just for the reasons that Westerners regard as obvious. Until well up into the twentieth century, Koreans were severely limited in the number and kind of personal relationships they could develop outside their families and kin. Each family was virtually an exclusive unit. The obligations that individual members had to each other, both individually and as a unit, precluded them from establishing close relationships with all but a select few outsiders. Females were especially limited in their outside relationships. With few exceptions, girls and women were not allowed to associate on intimate terms with anyone other than family members and close same-sex relatives.
During most of the long Choson dynasty (1392-1910) the majority of Korean women who lived in urban areas spent their entire lives without speaking to any men other than those in their immediate families and close kin. Their contact with females outside their families was limited by law to a few hours in the evening after dark, during which men were required to stay indoors.
When the Choson dynasty began to break up near the end of the nineteenth century, the segregation of males and females also began to end, as did the isolation of females in their homes. But it was not until the mid-1950s—after almost forty-five years of occupation by Japan and the havoc caused by war between North and South Korea—that Koreans began, slowly, establishing the kind of casual and intimate male-female friendships that are common in the West.
Korean men had always had more freedom to develop relationships outside their families—with other men as well as women (the latter in the kisaeng houses, tea houses, and bars making up Korea’s exclusively male-oriented entertainment industry)—but it would not be until the last decades of the Choson dynasty, when the feudal class system was abolished and Western-type companies were introduced into the country, that men began to associate freely with relatively large numbers of other men. For the first time in the history of the country men were politically as well as socially free to expand their circle of friends.
These legal changes did not end the Confucian-oriented family system or the class differences, and both of these continued to limit the circle of intimate friends that men had. What was new and dramatic was that, because of the personalized nature of all relationships in Korea, large numbers of businessmen were compelled to meet and develop personal relationships with people in other companies and in a variety of government offices as part of their job.
In Korea today most businesspeople and all politicians count the number of friends and contacts they have in high places as among their most important professional assets. Ujong (uh-johng), or “friendship,” remains one of the primary foundations for most business and professional dealings.
Fortunately, there are almost no cultural restraints on Koreans’ meeting and establishing close relationships with foreigners, and many go out of their way to initiate such contacts for their own personal reasons. This is common enough that newly arrived foreigners are often advised by old-timers to be cautious about adding just anyone they meet to their circle of friends. There always seems to be a collection of unsavory characters in each city who are notorious for taking advantage of such relationships.
Chinshim 친힘 Cheen-sheem
Sincerity Comes First
Koreans and other Asians regularly accuse Westerners of being shallow-minded, of giving priority to things that are secondary, and of often ignoring altogether matters that are most important. This contrast in attitudes and behavior, which often does exist, results from a fundamental difference in Asian and Western cultures. Westerners characteristically opt for short-term goals—immediate advantages, quick profits, instant satisfaction, and so on. Asians, on the other hand, have been conditioned culturally for centuries to take a long-term view, to approach things slowly, often by circuitous routes, and to be satisfied with making progress in small incremental steps.
While the typical Western approach calls for fast decisions based on whatever information is available at the time, combined with fast, concentrated action and force designed to overwhelm any obstacles, Asians have traditionally preferred to accumulate every shred of information possible, study it thoroughly over a relatively long period of time, and then devise strategies that take all possible contingencies into account.
Of course there are now numerous exceptions to this traditional form of Asian behavior, but many of the attitudes associated with this mind-set remain vital factors in everyday life in Asia and are especially conspicuous in personnel management and other areas of business. In Korea, for example, one of the most important attributes that employers look for in job applicants is expressed in the term chin-shim (cheen-sheem), which literally means “true heart” and is the Korean word for “sincerity.”
As is the usual case, however, chinshim is far more culturally laden than the English word sincerity and is used and understood in a different way. In its typical Western context sincerity is used in a rather casual manner. In contrast, chinshim in its Korean context refers to the philosophical beliefs, including spirituality, general attitude, and overall character, of an individual. People with a “true heart” are those who can be trusted to behave according to the highest social and ethical standards, which includes being unselfish, scrupulously honest, loyal to their superiors, hardworking, and willing to make extraordinary sacrifices to achieve more than what they are asked and expected to do.
Despite the importance of education—and experience—in Korean industry today, employers continue to give chinshim high priority on their list of qualifications when interviewing candidates for employment. Their view is that in the long run character and spirit are more important than anything else in determining the potential of job applicants.
Koreans automatically measure the chinshim of every person they meet—subconsciously when the meetings are casual and are not expected to lead to any kind of relationship, but consciously and very deliberately on other occasions. Their “sincerity radar” automatically switches to its most sensitive setting when they first meet foreign businesspeople, especially Westerners, with whom they might become involved. It is far more difficult for them to read the character of foreigners, and therefore whatever reading they get is all the more critical.
Westerners seeking to establish long-term positive relationships with Koreans can speed up the process by using the word chinshim in their dialogue because it sends a very clear message to their Korean counterparts that they are aware of the importance of “sincerity” in Korean culture and that they too desire a relationship based on chinshim.
Chiwi 치위 Chee-wee
Paying Attention to Rank
For nearly two thousand years Koreans were carefully conditioned to conduct themselves according to a minutely defined social status based on gender, age, class, education, and official position. This behavioral programming made all Koreans extraordinarily sensitive to chiwi (chee-wee), or “rank,” and all of its symbols.
Koreans became so habituated to titles of respect that these titles were practically indistinguishable from their names. The most common such title for ordinary people is ssi (ssee), which is a generic term (like the Japanese san) used when addressing both males and females. Another generic title heard fairly often is sobang (soh-bahng), which basically means the same thing as ssi but is considerably