Korean Sources of Conflict Resolution: An Inquiry into the Concept of Han

Korean Sources of Conflict Resolution: An Inquiry into the Concept of Han Roland Bleiker and Hoang Young-ju Published in Morgan Brigg and Roland Bleiker, Mediating Across Difference: Oceanic and Asian Approaches to Conflict Resolution (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2011), pp. 248-69. Each culture has its own traditions of understanding and dealing with conflict.1 Korea, too, has a long history of linking conflict resolution with particular moral and societal values. We explore the potentials and limits of this tradition by focusing on the concept of Han, which many Korean scholars claim is unique to their cultural environment. Although there is no direct translation for Han it can perhaps best be captured by terms such as sorrow, regret and sadness. Han emerges as a result of particular grievances: injustices done to a person or a collective. Han, in this sense, can afflict persons as much as groups or even a society at large. Feelings such as sorrow or grief are, of course, not unique to Korea. They are a normal part of collective life, a product of conflict in any political or cultural setting. Unique to Korea, though, is the manner in which these feelings are understood and related to managing or solving conflict. Or, as one commentator puts it, unique is the “discourse of uniqueness” that surrounds the concept of Han.2 In an attempt to learn from this particular cultural approach we explore in detail two important aspects of Han. First, the concept of Han explicitly acknowledges the emotional dimensions of conflict and its resolution. This focus on emotions stands in stark contrast to western approaches to mediation, which are part of a broader cultural tradition dominated by instrumental understandings of reason. In the West, emotions are still largely seen as private and irrational – as phenomena that either play no role in political life or, at best, ought to be contained and minimized so as to arrive at rational and reasonable ways of solving conflict. If emotions are taken into account in the context of mediation, then usually only as elements of a negotiation strategy. The Korean tradition, by contrast, places emotions at the centre of conflict. It establishes a rich and highly useful conceptual vocabulary with which the crucial link between emotions and mediation can be understood and explored. Second, the concept of Han, as understood and practiced in Korea, shifts the focus of conflict resolution from the individual to the collective. The key task is not to address and solve individual grievances or a clash between particular individuals, as is the case in western approaches to mediation. The purpose, rather, is to find ways of harmonizing the relationship between individuals and the society at large. The importance of societal harmony is, of course, a much discussed feature of Confucian societies. And so are the negative consequences of situations where individuals are 1

Thanks to Emma Hutchison for her critical comments, particularly on the emotional dimensions of conflict. 2

Heather A. Willoughby, “Retake: A Decade of Learning from the Movie Sop’yonje,” in Music and Culture 8 (2003): p. 120.

expected to acquiesce and submit to conditions of injustice in the interest of retaining a harmonious social order. The patriarchal nature of Confucian society is a case in point here. While we discuss the long history of marginalizing and suppressing women – the concept of Han is, indeed, particular central to understanding woman’s grievances - we focus our inquiry on how this cultural approach, problematic as it may be in some ways, nevertheless offers a range of unique insights into conflict transformation. While our inquiry highlights a particular aspect of the Korean approach to conflict resolution we do not claim that this corresponds to an essential cultural trait. Cultures are inevitably highly complex and diverse, involving a range of clashes between different values, perceptions and interests. Han is only one aspect of Korea’s culture and it too is open to various competing interpretations. One could just as well highlight other aspects of Korea’s tradition. Or one could contextualize the claim of Han’s uniqueness with the fact that Korea’s culture did not evolve in isolation, but was strongly shaped by neighbouring civilizations, most notably China and Japan. In the context of more recent processes of globalization, Korea has also come in increasing contact with Western values. The current division of the peninsula into a Communist North and a Capitalist South is, indeed, to a large extent an imposition of western ideas and geopolitical interests. The intense antagonistic and ideological rivalry between North and South does, in man ways, contradict the emphasis that the traditional concept of Han places on overcoming revenge and on validating forgiveness and compassion. While we briefly address this contradiction our main objective is not to understand the origins and complexities of contemporary conflict in Korea. We are, much rather interested in exploring how a long and unique cultural tradition might offer new and viable alternatives to how prevailing approaches conceptualize conflict and its resolution. We begin our chapter by providing a concise definition of Han, focusing in particular on how the concept relates to questions of conflict and mediation. The two main parts that follow identify and discuss in detail the two manners in which Han differentiates substantially from Western approaches to conflict resolution: the explicit engagement with the emotional nature of conflict and the conceptualization of mediation as a process of engaging broad societal issues, rather than merely a clash between individuals. We illustrate the issues at stake by highlighting the role of Han in a popular Korean folk tale: the story of Chunhyang. We conclude by highlighting how our inquiry into Korean cultural traditions can help us review and potentially improve western approaches to meditation and conflict resolution.

The Concept of Han: Definition and Origin Although numerous scholars stress that finding an exact translation of Han into English is impossible, most define it as a kind of sorrow, a response to conditions of injustice and suffering. They speak of a “deep sense of suffering accompanied with anger.”3 But how exactly is Han generated and what does it entail? Discussions about the nature of Han can be placed into two categories: those focusing on Han at the individual level, and those at the collective one.

3

Park Jae Soon, “Han and Shinmyong: The suffering soul and liberating life of the oppressed people,” Korean Journal of Systematic Theology 3 (1999): p. 195.

2

First to Han at the individual level. Here particular attention is given to women and issues of gender discrimination. In a traditional Confucian order, Korean woman are supposed to play a virtuous role that is clearly defined according to a patriarchal system of role distributions. Such an order does not see a woman as an independent person, but, rather, as an individual whose function is attached to another person, mostly a man: she is a daughter, a wife or a mother. In traditional Korean society there is little room for women outside such strict role assignments. Even if the resulting Confucian order is harmonious, it is based on a series of explicit forms of gender discrimination. Han here are the feelings that accumulate in a woman as a direct result of the grievances she experiences in the context of a patriarchal system of oppression. Han is also seen to exist at the national level. It emanates from the painful historical experiences Koreans had to suffer through, and form the particular attitude with which they faced these experiences. Particular importance here is given to the dependent nature of Korea, the fact that in their history Koreans often lacked security and power. The long influence of China is a case in point, as is the more recent colonial occupation of Japan and the externally imposed division of the peninsula. Important as well are internal struggles, such as systems of domination related to gender and class.4 Some scholars, such as Park Jae Soon, stress that the origin of Han lies at the very beginning of Korean civilization.5 Others disagree. Ko Mi-sook, for instance, analyzed Korean traditional novels and fairytales, concluding that Han cannot be viewed as a part of traditional Korean identity.6 Han, she says, only emerged in response to processes of modernization in the 19th and early 20th century. It became particularly acute in the context of Japan’s ruthless colonial occupation of Korea, which lasted from the 1890s until the end of World War II. The type of grievances and feelings of sadness that emerged in reaction to modernization and colonisation are rather different, Ko believes, from traditional Korean traits, which primarily revolved around humour and optimism.7 The exact origins of Han may be disputed, but not the central status it has achieved in recent discussions about Korean cultural imaginary. Examining a broad range of Korean films, Baek Moon-im stresses that since the 1960s Han has occupied a place “at the core of cultural discourse.”8 In the context of a re-emerging sense of nationalism in South Korea, Han has been increasingly presented as an essential aspect of traditional Korean culture. Focusing on melodramatic tendencies in films, Baek interprets Han as a strategy to find comfort in the face of rapid modernization. Doing so, she says, constitutes a way of forming national identity in response to modernization, colonisation and the devastating Korean War. The latter conflict, which lasted between 1950 and 1953, killed more than a million people. It left the peninsula deeply divided, forcing Koreans to articulate a sense of national identity in the face of a

4

Park “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 206.

5

Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 198.

6

Ko Mi-sook, HanKuk ui Keuntaesung, G-Kiwonul Chajaso-Monjok, Sexuality, Byungrihak [The Origin of Korean’s modernity: Nation, Sexuality and Pathology], (Seoul: Chaesesang, 2001), pp. 61-62. 7

Ko, HanKuk ui Keuntaesung, p. 61.

8

Baek Moon-im, “Melodrama wa Hanui Mihak” [Melodrama and the esthetics of Han], Minjokmunhaksa Yeonku 299 (2005): p. 243.

3

political and ideological arch-rival across the dividing line.9 The so-constituted notion of Han was expressed metaphorically in numerous popular films and tales. It involved, for instance, stories about female ghosts, whose vengeance against their oppressors constitute a way of releasing the accumulated grudge and sorrow.10 In addition to these modern forms of popular culture there are numerous, much older narrative stories, which express individual and national identity based on the concept of Han. When Kim Youngmin investigates Korean traditional women’s songs, for instance, he observed that the main recurring theme was a candid expression of sorrow. But he also noted that these emotional expressions not only took the shape of lamenting the singer’s misfortune and consoling others in a similar situation. They also capture a remarkable rebellious spirit, thus revealing that Han can be a form of resistance and transformation as well.11 The original negative emotions of sorrow and grief are only one aspect of Han. Kim Jin stresses that Han involves a complex mixture of both negative and positive emotions, including the traditional sentiments of optimism and humour. Han, then, emphasizes the contradictions of and interactions between these various psychological dynamics. Sorrow and introspection eventually transform themselves into acceptance, empathy and friendship. Kim stresses that the structure of Han is, at first, based on resignation but that it can later also contain hope and desire.12

Conceptualising the Links Between Emotions and Conflict: Han as an Alternative to Instrumental Reason Having outlined, in broad strokes, the origin and nature of Han, we now analyze how this cultural concept offers a way of understanding and dealing with conflict that is different from prevailing western approaches to mediation. Two key features stand out. The first key feature of Han is the manner in which it captures the highly complex linkages between emotions and conflict. Han is generally defined as “a collective emotion,” as feelings linked to the inevitable pains of life. The emotions associated with Han are seen as being particularly intense, so intense that they cannot be communicated adequately through external expressions, such as bursts of anger. They are, in that sense, unresolved emotions resulting from unjustified suffering.13 The complex engagement with emotions that is symbolized in the concept of Han stands in stark contrast to western approaches, which place key emphasis on developing rational ways of understanding and dealing with conflict. This difference is, at least in part, semantically conditioned. The Korean language has a far more extensive and complex vocabulary to express emotional states and relations.14 The 9

Baek, “Melodrama wa Hanui Mihak,” p. 268. For a concise overview of recent Korean history see: Bruce Cumings, Korea’s place in the sun: a modern history (New York: WW. Norton, 1997). 10

Baek, “Melodrama wa Hanui Mihak,” pp. 255-266.

11

Kim Youngmin, “Hankuk Buyoe Natanan Yoseongtul ui Cheonghan,” [Women’s Sorrow in Korean Songs,” HankukYonyeoMunhak 55, (2005): pp. 205-222. 12

Kim Jin, “Han ui Heemangcholhakcheok haeseok,” [The Philoshopic Interpretation of Han], Cholhak (philosophy) 78 (2004): p. 319. See also Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 217. 13

Park Jae Soon, “Han and Shinmyong,” pp. 197, 200-2,

14

Lim Ji-Ryong, “Aspects of the Metaphorical Conceptualisation of Basic Emotions in Korean,” Studies in Modern Grammar 32, (2003): pp. 141-67.

4

nature and implications of these linguistic features are, of course, impossible to express in English. But the following extract, taken from a scholarly analysis of Han, may provide at least a sense of the differences between the two cultural approaches. Although written in English, the text is so strongly shaped by the cultural origins of its Korean author that it manages to convey how central emotions are in a Korean cultural context. A somewhat lengthy quote is thus in order. As the Korean people hungered much for a bright and warm life, their pains from frustrations and wounds must have been great. As they endured tribulations and despairs, they must have felt more pains from afflictions and tragedies. As their wish for a bright life was keen, their gloomy life must have cast long shadows, this is why and how we, the Korean people, came to bear the dark, sad sentiments of Han which are deep and sticky, moving, appealing and arousing. Behind this pathetic sadness lie there deep yearnings for life…15 Han is a knot of life alive embedded down at the bottom of unconsciousness. It is a feeling of the long accumulated pains, outrages, frustrations, losses, sorrows and regrets felt during the course of our unfulfilled life in this world, or a sentiment of missing and yearning. It is, for the Korean people, the source of the wounds and scars of their life and soul, of their sights and lamentations, of their resignations and frustrations, their curses and hates, and their sadism and masochism. It would sometimes become the malaise of defeatism resulting from rotting resignation or despair which must be get rid of and overcome for a healthy and vibrant life.16 Such a text would not be acceptable in a western academic context. It would be seen as too emotional and too subjective, lacking the type of detached and rational analysis needed to make a significant scholarly contribution. Even western academic publications in disciplines that deal with emotions, such as psychology, sociology or philosophy, would require that an analysis of emotions be expressed in a much more neutral and academic language The very nature of the English language expresses – and camouflages at the same time – the fact that there is a long Western tradition that separates emotion and rationality.17 Or, rather, reason has come to be reduced to a relatively narrow, instrumental or technological version.18 As a result, emotions are presented as mere feelings, as bodily sensations that overwhelm individuals, distort their thinking and prevent them from making reasonable judgments. Expressed in other words, emotions have come to be seen as purely irrational and private phenomenon, playing little or no role in political and public deliberation. This stereotypical view has come under 15

Park Jae Soon, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 199.

16

Park Jae Soon, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 211.

17

See: Jon Elster, Alchemies of the Mind: Rationality and the Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 18

See, for instance: Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, Dialektik der Auflkärung (Frankfurt: Fisher Taschenbuch, 1991/1944); Martin Heidegger, “Die Frage nach der Technik,” in Vorträge und Aufsätze (Pfullingen: Günter Neske, 1954).

5

increasing challenge.19 Many scholars now point out that emotions are absolutely central to understanding the causes and nature of conflict.20 But such engagements with emotions, convincing as they are, have not yet uprooted the deeply entrenched western assumptions about the primacy of reason in public life. As a result of the long tradition of separating reason and emotion, western approaches to security and conflict resolution have not been able to develop sophisticated analysis of the crucial roles that emotions play in conflict. By and large emotions are seen as either a hindrance to rational decision making or, at best, a form of negotiation strategy that supplements reasoned arguing. Consider a recent media release by the Australian Law Reform Commission, which aims at generating public debate on the effectiveness and need for sedition laws in the fight against global terrorism. Its main objective is to come up with useful – speak rational − policy advice by taking “some of the emotion out of the debate.”21 Or look at how emotions have come to be seen in prevailing approaches to mediation. One of the most prominent textbooks on negotiations, co-authored by Roger Fisher and William Ury, urges people to recognize and deal with emotions. But they see emotions mostly as a problem. “Emotions typically become entangled with the objective merits of the problem,” Fisher and Ury stress.22 The authors thus believe that people can successfully engage the real problems only once they have removed the “burden of unexpressed emotions.”23 In a more recent co-authored book, Fisher provides a much more detailed and nuanced understanding of emotions. But the basic assumption remains that emotions are a hindrance to rational negotiation and decision making. “Rather than getting caught up in every emotion you and others are feeling,” Fisher and his co-author advise, “turn your attention to what generates these emotions.”24 This approach bears striking similarities with a long tradition of western theorizing on the role of psychology in foreign policy. Scholars who are part of this tradition have sought to understand the complex relationship between emotion and reason in the process of decision making. But here too, emotions have not been appreciated fully because they are mostly seen as

19

Three prominent examples are: Sara Ahmed, The Cultural Politics of Emotion (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2003); Martha C. Nussbaum, Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001); Robert C. Solomon, Not Passions Slave: Emotions and Choice (Oxford: Oxford University, 2003). 20

Neta C. Crawford, “The Passion of World Politics: Propositions on Emotions and Emotional Relationships,” International Security 24, no. 4 (Spring 2000): pp. 116-136; Jonathan Mercer, “Rationality and Psychology in International Politics,” International Organization 59 (Winter 2005); Andrew A.G. Ross, “Coming in from the Cold: Constructivism and Emotions,” European Journal of International Relations 12, no. 2 (2006): pp. 197-222; Andrew A.G. Ross, “Coming in from the Cold: Constructivism and Emotions,” European Journal of International Relations 12, no. 2 (2006): pp. 197222; Richard Ned Lebow, “Reason, Emotion and Cooperation,” International Politics 42 (2005): p. 283. 21

Australian Government, Law Reform Commission, “Media Release: Are Sedition Laws Necessary and Effective?” 20 March 2006, www.alrc.gov.au. 22

Roger Fisher and William Ury, Getting to Yes: Negotiating an Agreement Without Giving In (London: Random House, 1999), p. 11. 23

Fisher and Ury, Getting to Yes, p. 31.

24

Roger Fisher and Daniel Shapiro, Beyond Reason: Using Emotions as You Negotiate (New York: Penguin, 2005), p. 15.

6

“deviations from rationality,” as factors that could explain misperceptions and errors in judgment.25 The Korean cultural tradition offers a viable alternative to such stark separations of reason and emotion. The most basic but also one of the most crucial points is that the Korean language has an unusually rich vocabulary and a sophisticated intellectual tradition of conceptualizing the nature of emotions and the manner in which they function in conflict scenarios. Cheon I-tu presents Han as containing broadly two sides: a dark side that involves “outward offensiveness and “inward retrogression,” and a bright side that generates compassion as well as desire.26 Choi Sang-jin further refines this conceptualization. The first aspect of Han, he stresses, is the original and direct emotional reaction to the cause of grievance: anger, hostility and feelings for revenge. These are the emotions termed “outward offensiveness.” The second step involves a stage of interpretation and translation of these initial aspects of Han. As one tries to understand and internalize the situation associated with the grievance, anger eventually turns into a more sorrowful feeling. Revenge is said to evolve into a tendency of selfhatred. Here scholars speak of “inward retrogression.” The third step is the stage of self-reconsideration. This stage involves intense emotional fluctuations. On the one hand, there are still a range of negative feelings towards the sources of grievance and its perpetuator(s). But there are, on the other hand, also stabilizing forces, emotions that are generated by various ways of externalizing Han. This process can take various forms, such as private or public forms of artistic self-expression. The last step is said to be the process of objectifying Han itself. The individual reaches a separation between herself/himself and Han: the reality of Han is now outside of one’s mind. The emotional feeling of this state is calmness and remoteness.27

Immanent and Transcendent Approaches to Conflict Resolution The Korean tradition not only offers a complex and highly useful vocabulary and conceptual framework to understand the linkages between emotions and conflict. It also leads to a fundamentally different approach to mediation. Western approaches to conflict resolution are embedded in dualistic forms of thinking. The general tendency is to rely on thought patterns that juxtapose antagonistic bipolar opposites, such as reason/emotion, good/evil or order/chaos. One side of the pairing is considered to be analytically and conceptually separate from the other one. The relationship between the bipolar opposites generally expresses the superiority, dominance, or normative desirability 25

Jonathan Mercer, “Rationality and Psychology in International Politics,” International Organization 59 (Winter 2005), p. 97. For examples of this tradition of scholarship see: Robert Jervis, Richard Ned Lebow and Janice Gross Stein, Psychology and Deterrence (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1985); Robert Jervis, Perception and Misperception in International Politics (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976); Richard Ned Lebow and Janice Gross Stein, “Rational Deterrence Theory: I Think, Therefore I Deter,” World Politics 41 (Jan 1989); Richard Cottam, Foreign Policy Motivation (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1977); Robert Deborah Larson, The Origins of Containment: A Psychological Explanation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985). 26

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo [The structure of Han]” Hyuntaemunhaki-ron Yonku(Modern Korean Literature theory) 3 (1993): pp. 2-4. 27

Choi Sang-jin, “Hankukinui Simcheong Simrihak: Cheongkwa Hane taehan hyunsanghakcheok Yihae [Korean’s Emotional Psychology],” article presented at the annual conference of Korea Psychology Association (1993): pp. 17-18.

7

of one entity, such as reason or order, over the other, such as emotion or chaos. David Hall and Roger Ames argue that such dualist conceptualising leads to “transcendent philosophies.”28 According to these doctrines, unconditioned elements determine the fundamental meaning and order of the world. In the context of mediation such dualistic and transcendent approaches seek to establish a set of rational and universally applicable procedures that can then be applied to solve conflict in any cultural context. The most prominent example of such an approach is the so-called “principled” or “interest-based” negotiation approach, pioneered more than two decades ago by Roger Fisher and William Ury at the Harvard Negotiation Project. This approach has had a tremendous influence on negotiation and mediation practices world-wide. “Every negotiation is different,” Fisher and Ury admit, but they immediately add that “the basic elements do not change.”29 They stress that their approach can be used by anyone in any possible circumstance, ranging from US diplomats dealing with foreign policy crisis to Wall Street lawyers facing anti-trust cases and couples figuring out the details of a divorce settlement.30 Fisher and Ury’s approach consists of four clearly defined negotiation principle: separating people from the problems they face; focusing on interests rather than positions; generating various options that could be of mutual gain; and insisting that the result of negotiations is based on an objective standard.31 In stark contrast to these western searches for rational and universally applicable mediation principles we find the Korean tradition of conflict resolution. The latter is embedded in larger East Asian civilisation patterns that reach as far back as ancient Chinese philosophy. The prevailing cultural trait here offers a clear alternative to rationalistic and dualistic conceptualising. It has been common in the West to argue, as Max Weber did, that the power of logos, of defining, and of reasoning was unknown to Chinese philosophers, that they were preoccupied with narratives while being ignorant of the 'empirical-etiological' and 'rational-formalist' approaches that were essential to Hellenic, Occidental, Middle Eastern, and Indian philosophies.32 More recently researchers have claimed, however, that rational discourses were much more prevalent in ancient China than previously assumed, but that its most influential schools knowingly opposed or at least rejected an unlimited faith in it. 33 The assumption here is that between goals or options is often a spontaneous and intuitional, rather than a rational process. Before making an apparently conscious decision, subconscious and instinctive factors have already shaped and delineated the parameters of the decision-making process, no matter how rational the latter may be. Seen from such a vantage-point it makes little sense to separate reason and emotion in a stark manner. Since reason, or any other concept for that manner, can only prevail by 28

D.L. Hall and R.T. Ames, Thinking Through Confucius (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987): pp. 18-19. 29

Fisher and Ury, Getting to Yes, p. xv.

30

Fisher and Ury, Getting to Yes, p. xv.

31

Fisher and Ury, Getting to Yes, p. 11.

32

M. Weber, Die Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen: Konfuzianismus und Taoismus: Schriften 1915-1920, Gesammelte Schriften, Vol 19, H. Schmidt-Glintzer (ed.), (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1989), pp. 309-313. 33

A.C. Graham, Later Mohist Logic, Ethics and Science (Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 1978); Graham, Disputers of the Tao, pp. 7-8,75-94,137-212; and J. Needham, Science and Civilization in China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1954).

8

virtue of its opposite, emotion, they form an inseparable and interdependent unit in which one element is necessary for the articulation and existence of the other. Hall and Ames claim that operating along these forms of conceptual polarity leads to “immanent philosophies.”34 This is to say that events and actors are always interdependent, that there is no transcendent source which determines actions. The Korean cultural tradition is strongly shaped by these larger civilisation values. One of the key maxims of Korean Buddhism, for instance, revolves around a refusal to resort to principles or theories. Such an approach, the argument goes, “is not the result of awakening but of mere intellectual speculation: it is just a disease of the mind.”35 Traditional Korean approaches to conflict resolution thus differ substantially from western ones in two regards. First, from a Korean perspective there is little or no value in establishing the type of rational and universal procedures that characterize western theories of mediation. Solving conflict is not about finding, refining and then universalizing the right kind of conflict resolution mechanism, but about dealing with the unique issues that characterize a conflict – issues that inevitably entail material as well as emotional dimensions. The key, then, is to recognize that emotions are not just a strategic tool in negotiating tactics, as presented in western approaches, but part of the actual substance of conflict and mediation. This is why the concept of Han is important: it redirects attention away from procedures to the emotional dimensions of conflict, to the feelings of anger, sorrow and suffering, to the forms of wounding that cause pain. Second: Korean conflict resolution practices recognize the need to engage emotions themselves, rather than merely the issues that causes emotional grievances. The latter is one of the key assumptions of western approaches to conflict resolution, as already illustrated through Roger Fisher’s prominent interest-based understanding of mediation. The Korean tradition rests on a fundamentally different assumption. It does not necessarily deny that there is a causal – or at least a correlational - link between grievances and emotions. Most commentators do, indeed, understand Han as a type of emotional suffering that is triggered by conditions of injustice, such as gendered forms of oppression and exploitation. Park, for instance, stresses that “Han rises because of injustices caused by evil forces or by yearnings resulting from frustrated or failed life.”36 But contrary to western approaches the Korean tradition does not believe conflict resolution is possible merely by removing the cause of the grievances. Emotional woundings live on long after they arise: they take on a life of their own – a life that needs to be analyzed carefully if we are to reach a complete understanding of conflict and the possibilities to resolve them. Emotions associated with Han, such as outrage, sorrow or regret, operate at the deep, subconscious level: they have accumulated over long periods of time. Korean scholars certainly recognize that the causes of suffering need to be addressed, that “the knots of Han should also be untied in the outside world.” But at the same time they stress that doing so alone cannot achieve “Han-letting” and restore a state of reconciliation and harmony. Emotions need to be addressed as manifestations and sources of conflict themselves. They also need to be validated as important aspects of conflict resolution processes, rather than mere 34

Hall and R.T. Ames, Thinking Through Confucius, pp. 17-25. See also: Lisa Raphals, Knowing Words: Wisdom and Cunning in the Classical Traditions of China and Greece (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992). 35

Kusan Sunim, The Way of Korean Zen, Martine Fages (trans.), (New York: Weatherhill, 1985), p. 70.

36

Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 216.

9

hindrances to rational mediation and decision making. “Han should be let to solve by itself within,” says Park.37 We now seek to gain a better understanding of this process, focusing on what we see as the second key feature of Korean approaches to conflict resolution: its emphasis on promoting societal interests over solving clashes between individuals.

Between Individual Rights and Collective Interests: Searching for Critical Insights Without Orientalist Prejudices Numerous scholars stress that Han is a collective emotion unique to Korea, a type of “ethnic emotion.”38 But, of course, all societies experience grievances as a result of injustices. This is a normal aspect of conflict. What renders Han different from other forms of grievances is the particular manner in which emotions are conceptualized and addressed in the context of conflict resolution. The key feature that distinguishes Korean approaches to grievances is located in the relationship between individuals and the society at large. According to Oh Younghee, the traditionally validated solution to Han is not to confront the system of exclusion and domination directly, but to transform it in indirect ways. 39 Choi Sang-jin puts it even more directly. Because the cause of Han can often not be removed, the conflict should be resolved indirectly by removing it from one’s mind or psychological attitude.40 Park Jae Soon, likewise, emphasizes that the Korean approach is based on “the premise of integrating and harmonizing the subject and object,” which involves processes of assimilation and, to some extend, submission.41 He believes that “the Korean people maintain their will of life for peace and reconciliation while willingly carrying and nursing angers within them instead of exploding or avenging in violence.”42 Expressed in a stark – and somewhat western – manner: conflict is solved not by removing its sources, but by re-integrating grieving individuals into the overall social order. It is obvious that such an approach opens itself up to immediate critique. One could point out that corresponding practices of conflict resolution do not actually solve conflict, but only sustain and perhaps even further entrench existing systems of domination. Can an individual who suffers, such as a women who is oppressed by a gender-specific system of exclusion, overcome Han by removing her feelings of sorrow and by submitting herself to the very unjust patriarchal order that caused Han in the first place?

37

Park, “Han and Shinmyong, p. 216.

38

Park, “Han and Shinmyong, p. 201, 197.

39

Oh, Young-hee, “Yongseryul tonghan Hanui Chiyu; simlihakcheok Chepkun (The use of Forgiveness in the treatment of Han; A psychological approach),” Hankuk Simli Hakhoechi 7, no. 1 (1995): pp. 73-74. 40

Choi, “Hankukinui Simcheong Simrihak,” p. 19.

41

Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 207-8.

42

Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 214.

10

Cross-Cultural Negotiations Between Co-Authors This chapter is the result of a cross-cultural negotiation between two authors with very different cultural backgrounds. It is an ongoing conversation, involving inevitable tensions and compromises, between a Korean and a Western scholar. Hoang grew up and was educated in Pusan, South Korea. But he lived for several years in the UK, where he obtained his Ph.D. from Hull University. Bleiker, by contrast, grew up in Switzerland but lived in Korea on several occasions, first during the 1980s as a Swiss diplomat stationed in the Korean Demilitarized Zone, and then, in the late 1990s, as a visiting professor at Pusan National University. Each of us this has a long history of engaging the culture and language of the other. But each is also rooted in his own cultural and intellectual traditions, being shaped by them in a manner that makes it impossible to complete step outside the respective values. We have clashed over the interpretation of numerous aspects related to the nature and function of Han, most notably how they relate to recognizing and transforming systems of domination. Bleiker, for instance, feared that some of the Confucian principles associated with Han risk entrenching systems of domination, most notably those related to gender and age. He is suspicious of attempts to overcome conflict that place the responsibility in Indi duals to overcome their grief and reintegrate into the existing order for the sake of societal harmony. Hoang, by contrast, believes that Bleiker’s fears are an expression of an inherently western understanding of the relationship between individuals and collectives. But by listening to and engaging each other in a manner that is as respectful and empathetic as possible, we tried to find a way of presenting a text that allows us to defend a common position that still has enough room for diverging interpretations. This very process of negotiating between authors demonstrates how mediating across difference is not a straightforward process: it requires opening oneself up to other ways of seeing the world and it entails making compromises along the way. In doing so we hope to have produced a text that illuminates the key aspect of Korean approaches to conflict resolution without loosing the critical distance necessary to evaluate them properly.

The existence of a hierarchical and patriarchal order is, of course, a much discussed feature not only of the Korean cultural tradition, but of East Asia in general. The philosophy which provides the rationale for such orders is Confucianism. It rests upon a doctrine that assumes the existence of a preordained natural order. Central to Confucianism are the five cardinal relationships which characterise all human interactions in a very ordered and hierarchical way. They are sovereign-subject, father-son, old-young,

11

husband-wife, and friend-friend. 43 Western commentators have for long stressed how this traditional view of society and morality plays a central political role. Noteworthy here are Montesquieu’s comments in The Sprit of Law, which presents the prototype of the notion of “oriental despotism.” Extending this line of inquiry, Karl Wittfogel later used notion of “hydraulic societies” to explain centralisation in China. Gregory Henderson did the same for Korea through his concept of the “vortex.”44 There are many contemporary extensions of this approach. Lucian Pye’s analysis is among the most prominent ones. He stresses how a range of different cultural traditions in Asia place great emphasis on maintaining order and hierarchy.45 Such approaches stand in contrast to contemporary Western values, where individual rights and autonomy are paramount. The prevailing cultural belief in Asia, Pye believes, is that “acceptance of authority is not inherently bad but rather is an acceptable key to finding personal security.”46 Such a fundamental orientation towards the collective societal group, rather than the rights of the individual, shapes all political interactions. It elevates questions of loyalty and commitment to a key place in the moral order and often leads, as Pye stresses, to what western observers would see as paternalistic and often authoritarian forms of government.47 While critiques of ‘oriental despotism’ are undoubtedly to the point, they may also be influenced by what Edward Said termed orientalism:48 a style of thought – and a corresponding mode of governance – that is based not on geographical, political or cultural facts, but on a series of stereotypical assumptions about the values and behaviour of people who inhabit far off and ‘exotic’ places. The challenge is not easy: to appreciate a cultural tradition on its own terms while still retaining enough distance to critically evaluate the issues at stake. But once we suspend Western assumptions for a moment, and explore the Korean tradition on its own terms, it becomes clear that the latter revolves around a fundamentally different understanding of conflict and its resolution. The key challenge is not to address individual grievances or to mediate a clash between individuals, as is the case in western approaches to mediation. The central task is to re-establish and retain social order and harmony – that is, promoting the good of all. This approach stands in stark contrast to the Western approach, which assumes that the collective good is best promoted not by assimilating and integrating individuals, but by safeguarding their rights and autonomy. Even today, some Korean scholars still believe strongly that such Western practices of promoting individual desires and rights not only clash with other, more collective rights, but also fail to provide the precondition necessary to solve conflicts and establish communal harmony. Park Jae Soon, for instance, recognizes that 43

B.I. Schwartz, The World of Thought in Ancient China (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1985), p. 63, 413; R. Moritz, Die Philosophie im alten China (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1990), p. 49. 44

Karl A. Wittfogel, Oriental Despotism, A Comparative Study of Total Power (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957); Gregory Henderson, Korea: The Politics of the Vortex (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1968). 45

Lucian W. Pye, Asian Power and Politics: The Cultural Dimension of Authority (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1985). 46

Pye, Asian Power and Politics, p. viii, x.

47

Pye, Asian Power and Politics, p. 27

48

Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1970), pp. 2-3.

12

the oppressed have a right to break out of their situation and seek self-fulfilment, but also stresses that this move alone “would never enable them to open the way for mutual and common living beyond conflict and confrontation.” 49

Breaking Cycles of Violence: Han, Sakim and the Path from Revenge to Compassion One of the most interesting – and potentially very valuable – aspects of the Korean approach to conflict resolution is its unique search for ways out of cycles of violence. Numerous Korean scholars stress that the key to this approach, and a central aspect of Han, is the refusal to translate feelings of sorrow and anger into practices of revenge. Although involving deeply rooted anger, Cheon I-tu stresses that Han does not involve resentment towards those who caused harm and grief.50 Some speak explicitly of an absence of an “absence of vindictiveness”.51 The concept and practice of Han can thus be seen as a cultural attempt to establish a genuine sense of common humanity, including empathy and compassion for those who have caused Han. Korean scholars point out that in the Western and Japanese cultures revenge is often seen as an inevitable process of resolving one’s sorrow or hurt. The result is a cycle of violence that renders a conflict, and the negative emotions it generates, more and more volatile. 52 The task of breaking out of cycles of violence and conflict is, of course, also a central issue in Western approaches to reconciliation. Andrew Schaap, for instance, comments that the ensuing processes require transforming “a relation of enmity into one of friendship.” To do this successfully, he believes, the parties involved must leave their grudges behind and develop a basic level of respect for each other. Reconciliation thus becomes a process that moves away from revenge and from “settling accounts” towards an attempt to break with cycles of violence.53 Han captures a culturally specific way of breaking such cycles of violence. Although Han inevitably entails anger, it is very different from holding a grudge. The former feeling is self-critical, while the latter focuses on blaming others. “Grudge is felt mainly against others or something outside oneself, while Han is a sensation toward oneself, accumulated within,” emphasizes Moon Soon-tae.54 The Korean concept of Sakim is of central importance to understanding this difference between outward oriented anger, which generates antagonism and conflict, and inward oriented self-reflection, which opens up possibilities for personal and sociopolitical transformation. Sakim refers to a process of digestion or fermentation: a process that works only slowly but nevertheless leads to transformation. Scholars believe that the concept of Sakim makes the collective emotion of Han unique to the Korean cultural tradition. They recognize that there are a lot of similarities between 49

Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” pp. 220, 204.

50

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo,” p. 4.

51

Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 204.

52

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo,” p. 5.

53

Andrew Schaap, “Agonism in Divided Societies,” Philosophy and Social Criticism 32, no.2 (2006): 5. See also his: Political Reconciliation. (London: Routledge, 2005.) 54

Moon Soon-tae, “What is Han,” in Suh Kwang-Sun (ed.), Stories of Han (Chungnoru and Bro, Tan’gi 4321) as cited in Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 201

13

East Asian civilisations, that Han plays a comparable role in China, Japan and Korea. But the latter is fundamentally different, Cheon I-tu believes, because of the central role played by the particular Korean feature of Sakim.”55 Processes of fermentation captured by Sakim feature and operate on a least three interrelated cultural levels. First is a long culinary tradition, which plays a central role in cultural self-awareness. The most basic – and highly symbolic – Korean dish, served at every meal, is Kimchi: a fermented form of cabbage. The taste of Kimchi depends entirely on the process of sakim. The second use of sakim refers to Korea’s aesthetic traditions, including practices of singing and reciting poetry. Here sakkim refers to the long and ongoing process required to achieve an aesthetic performance or product that is of high quality. The third aspect of sakim is related to the emotions involved in recognizing and transforming feelings of Han.56 Here Sakim consists of fermenting anger and detest in a way that turns negative emotions into positive ones. Sakim thus becomes a type of mediation process. Through psychological fermentation Han turns into Won, desires and wishes, which then play an active role in overcoming Han. Han and Won are no longer separate, but become part of an immanent and non-dualistic way of viewing conflict and its resolution. Based on this perception, the earlier mentioned dark and gloomy feelings associated with “outward offensiveness” and “inward retrogression” gradually transform into compassion and empathy.57 Han, in this sense, is the “paradoxical oneness of brightness and darkness.”58 This non-dualistic understanding of emotions and conflict explicitly opens up psychological and political spaces to promote forgiveness and reconciliation as processes to beak cycles of violence”59

Undoing Han: The Role of Forgiveness and Reconciliation We argued so far that Korea’s approach to conflict and mediation is strongly shaped by a preoccupation with emotions and an emphasis placed on societal harmony. Given this dual focus the Korean tradition pays unusually much attention to promoting forgiveness and developing compassion for the life and suffering of others.60 Strategies for dissolving Han are symbolized in an ancient ritual surrounding the use of ‘Gut,’ a traditional Korean process of exorcism and necromantic practice, a form of spiritual communication with the dead. This process can be accompanied by a variety of artistic performances, such as reciting the texts of traditional Korean poets, including Sancho, Pansori and Minyo. The result, Oh Young-hee believes, is a liberation process that solves Han through a spiritual revolution.61 To be more precise, the process of Oku gut involves four distinct stages of solving Han: the first step is dominated by anger. The ghost, who tormented by feelings of Han, is meeting the living 55

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo,” p. 5.

56

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo,” p. 6.

57

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo,” p. 8.

58

Park “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 214.

59

Cheon i-tu, “Hanui Kujoe Taehayeo,” p. 10.

60

See: Park, “Han and Shinmyong,” p. 214.

61

Oh Young-hee, cited in Kim Yol-kyu, HanKukin Mamumui Kunwonul Chachaseo, [The Pursuit of the Korean Mind] (Seoul: Mukhaksasangsa, 1987), p. 76

14

and demonstrates its anger, wrath and rage. The second step involves the living seeking to understand what type of Han the ghost suffers from. In turn, they apologize for the aspects of Han they caused, expressing sincere remorse. In front of the ghost, they beg for forgiveness. The third step involves the ghost understanding the origins of his Han and extending forgiveness. This last stage is not a monological process, but involves the possibility of recognizing that the ghost itself commits mistakes and needs forgiveness. Expressed in other words, the ghost put itself into the place of the living to reach a full circle of forgiveness. The process culminates in a final reconciliation between the ghost and the living. In the end everyone dances together to celebrate the process of hapuri, the solving of Han.62 Of course: in political reality conflicts are rarely solved as smoothly as in the above ritual. But the practice of Oku Gut nevertheless contains key insight that is of direct political relevance. It highlights that the process of Hanpuri – of letting go of anger and feelings for revenge - contains two main components: forgiveness and reconciliation. An important part here is that the action of forgiveness is extended to the oppressor in the interest of transforming conflict scenarios and reaching a situation where all parties can be better off than before. To get to this stage feelings of grudge and revenge must be broken. Han must be transformed from negative to positive emotions, from passive to active engagements, and from deconstructive to reconstructive political projects. Numerous Korean scholars have sought to conceptualise how this process can break cycles of violence and lead to a spiritual and social revolution – a type of process that involves forgiveness and reconciliation but still manages to transform, rather than merely accept, existing systems of domination.63 Key here is that assimilation is not just a process of giving up individual autonomy and submitting to the existing order, the one that caused Han in the first place. Rather, the application of Sakim and the promotion of forgiveness and reconciliation ends up in an ongoing process aimed at improving the situation for all parties concerned. This process may not be as spectacular as western revolutionary movements, which place emphasis on heroic acts of defiance and on overcoming institutional forms of domination. But often domination is much deeper seated, involving moral and societal values that cannot easily be overthrown. The more passive form of transformation, carved out by the Korean approach to conflict resolution, offers a viable way of engaging these forms of domination. This attitude bears numerous similarities with alternative Western approaches to conflict resolution and transformation. Nietzsche, for instance, already knew that the most significant events “are not our loudest but our stillest hours.” He believed that the world revolves “not around the inventors of new noise, but around the inventors of new value.”64 Such insights lead to a tradition of scholarship and political engagement that recognizes how genuine and lasting societal transformation often works through a long process that entails digging, slowly, underneath the foundations of authority. They work through a gradual and largely inaudible transformation of values.65 62

Oh, Young-hee, “Yongseryul tonghan Hanui Chiyu,” pp. 76-77.

63

See, for instance, Kim Jin, “Han ui Heemangcholhakcheok haeseok,” pp. 328-335.

64

Friedrich Nietzsche, Also sprach Zarathustra: Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen (München: Goldmann Verlag, 1891/1885). 65

Michel de Certeau, Arts de Faire, Vol. I of L’Invention du Quotidien (Paris: Gallimard, 1990/1980), p. 51; James C. Scott, The Moral Economy of the Peasant: Rebellion and Subsistence in Southeast Asia (New

15

The Story of Chunhyang: An Illustration of Han and Sakim in the Korean Popular Imaginary A brief chapter does not allow us the space to elaborate in detail on the nature of Han and the manner in which sakim transforms conflicts. But we would like to offer a brief illustration through a prominent Korean folk tale: the story of Chunhyang. The story began as a P’ansori, a form of folk music that is performed as a dramatic epic. The story is told in a narrative form by a solo singer who is accompanied by a round drum known as the Puk. But the story of Chunhyang has been retold countless times in other forms as well, including dramas, operates and cartoons. It features in several secondary school textbooks and there are at least a dozen film versions.66 The tale of Chunhyang is said to capture Korea’s national identity and imaginary. When the Korean culture is introduced to abroad, the story is often presented as a typical representation of the Korea’s tradition.67 Here is a brief summary of the folk tale, which is set in 18th century Korea, during the Choson Dynasty. Chunhyang is the daughter of retired entertainer, a socalled kisaeng. One day she meets Mongryong, the son of a yangban, an aristocratic magistrate in the city of Namwon. They immediately fall in love and against all social conventions decide to get married. They had to do so secretly for it was inconceivable for the daughter of a low-class kisaeng to marry the son of a noble yangban. The happiness of the young couple is soon shattered when Mongryong's father is summoned to Seoul. Mongryong has no choice but to follow his family, leaving Chunhyang behind in Namwon. The newly appointed magistrate in Namwon, Byeon Hakdo, soon becomes attracted to Chunhyang. He asks her to be his concubine, refusing to recognize the legality of her marriage. But Chunhyang resists and, as a result, is tortured and imprisoned. On the day of his birthday celebration, the magistrate orders that Chunhyang be executed unless she yields to his demand. In the meantime, Mongryong has passed the highest civil examination in Seoul and is appointed an Amhaengeosa, a secret royal inspector. In this function he returns to Namwon. Disguised as a beggar and wearing tattered cloths he was supposed to secretly assess the quality of the local administration. From farmers to yanbangs, the population expressed widespread discontent, including anger about the treatment of the well-respected Chunhyang. Mongryon thus releases Byeon Hakdo of his duty as a magistrate of Namwon. He rescues Chunhyang from prison and takes her back to Seoul, where the king was so impressed with her loyal behaviour that he elevated her to the status of a yangban. Mongryon and Chunhyang could thus legally marry.68 Haven: Yale University Press, 1976); Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985). 66

Jeon, Pyong-kuk, “Hankuk Younghwaui Chentong kwa Kuntaeseungui Hawingtane Taehan Tamsa: Younghwa 〈Chunghayng〉eul Chungshimeuro” (A Study on crossing of Korean Film’s Tradition and Modernity Centering on a Film 〈Chunghayng〉) Younghwayounku 22 (2003): p. 241. 67

See: http://www-scf.usc.edu/~bogilkim/chg.htm; http://www.instrok.org/instrok/lesson1/page03.html?thisChar=6; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chunhyang 68

For a more detailed narrative of the story of Chunhyang in English see: http://wwwscf.usc.edu/~bogilkim/chg.htm, Korean Opera – Pansori site, University of Southern California and

16

The concept of Han features prominently in this folk tale. Chunhyang can be said to possess Han in three ways: first she suffered as a woman in the Choson period, when Confucianism was the dominant ideology and patriarchal gender relations were very prevalent. Second, she was disadvantaged as the daughter of a retired kisaeng, a woman entertainer. She thus belonged to a lower class, which made it impossible for her to legally marry Mongryong, who belonged to the yangban, the upper classes. Third, Chunhyang also suffered Han in a more specific and direct way – by being forced to become a concubine of a magistrate and by being punished for refusing to take on this role. To understand the significance of the Story of Chunhyang it is necessary to highlight its origin as a Pansori, a narrative epic performed as a type of folk opera. Pansoris were in fact performed by and for ordinary people and for the ordinary people. This is why the themes and presentations of pansori reflect the concerns of ordinary Koreans. In this particular instance it expresses the Han that accumulated as a result of long-standing injustices linked to gender and class discriminations of the Confucian Chosun dynasty.69 But opposition to the existing class system is not the only part of the story of Chunhyang. There is also a transformative element in it, reflecting the multiple elements of Han as outlined above. Conflict is solved not through revolution but by reintegrating and harmonizing the role of the individuals within the existing system. Chunhyang overcomes the grief associated with her gender and class status not by revolting against the system that upholds injustice, but by being patient and forgiving: in the end she is upgraded from a lower-class daughter of a kisaeng to a yangban. She neither turned towards ‘outward offensiveness’ nor towards ‘inward retrogression:’ she transformed herself and her environment. Critics would, undoubtedly, point out that such a story only helps to justify the oppressive patriarchal and class-based societal order. Chunhyang had no agency. She did not achieve liberation out of her own will: she had to be rescued by a man and on the terms of the system of domination. At the same time it is noteworthy to observe how Chunhyang transformed the originally negative feelings associated with Han – most notably anger and resentment – into a positive energy that permitted her to prevail in the end. There is clear agency in this process as well – and it played a role in resolving the conflict. Three points stand out. First, there is Chunhyang’s active decision to marry Mongryon, which was a clear defiance of legal rules and societal norms. Second is Chunhyang’s emotional reaction to being tortured and cast into prison by Byeon Hakdo, the new magistrate. She not only refused to submit to his wishes but also stayed loyal to her sacred husband. She kept loving him even after he left for Seoul and even after he reappeared dressed as a beggar, which suggested that he had apparently failed in his career. Chunhyang’s emotional resilience under the duress of imprisonment is said to be closely related to the Sakim of Han. Forgiving her husband for seemingly abandoning her was an essential element in Chunhyang’s ability to stay positive: it is a fermentation process that transforms the hardship of deprivation and imprisonment so that dreams for a better future become possible again. The third element of Han is linked to what happened after Chunhyang’s rescue from prison and her rehabilitation as a yangban in Seoul. http://www.instrok.org/instrok/lesson1/page03.html?thisChar=6, East Rock Institute, (both accessed October 2007). 69

See Willoughby, “Retake: A Decade of Learning from the Movie Sop’yonje,” pp. 119-140.

17

Rather than seeking maximum punishment for the magistrate who punished her and wanted her executed, Chunhyang opted against revenge and for forgiveness and reconciliation. It must be said, though, that the various version of the story of Chunhyang differ on the level of forgiveness Chunhyang is ready to extend.70 The underlying theme of the story, and its related aesthetic performance as pansori, is that conflict can be resolved not by violent uprisings or by freeing individuals from societal constraints, but through patience, compassion and desire, which eventually reintegrate grieving individuals into a harmonious social order.

Conclusion The main task of this chapter has been to evaluate traditional Korean understandings of conflict and mediation. To do so we have focused on the concept of Han: an expression of sorrow and anger resulting from accumulated grievances due to injustices. By examining how the Korean tradition deals with the ensuing issues, we have noted two prominent features – both diverging substantially from how western approaches tend to conceptualize conflict and its resolution. First we noted that the Korean tradition possesses an unusually rich vocabulary and conceptual framework to understand how emotions are linked to conflict. This stands in sharp contrast to western approaches, which revolve around rational processes. Rather than establishing and refining a set of universally applicable procedures, as western approaches to meditate tend to do, the Korean tradition focuses on the unique emotional grievances that make up each particular conflict scenario. Emotions are seen as important aspects of conflict themselves, rather than as a mere manifestation of deeper seated problems. As a result, removing the causes of injustice is not enough to solve conflict because the emotional grievances are often so deeply entrenched that they take on a life – and logic – of their own. Second, dealing with these emotional residues of conflict, the Korean tradition places emphasis not on solving individual grievances or clashes between individuals, as western mediation practices do, but on restoring and maintaining social order. Such a cultural tradition inevitably risks the danger of solving conflict simply by forcing individuals to accept their grievances in the interest of overall societal harmony, no matter how oppressive and unjust this harmonious order may be. While we recognize the problem entailed in such processes of assimilation we also sought to evaluate the Korean tradition on its own terms – thus avoiding premature western judgments and locating unique potentials of conflict transformation. The Korean tradition does, indeed, offer a particular way of breaking cycles of violence. It conceptualizes a process of turning the originally negative emotions of Han – sorrow and anger – into forces of healing, such as empathy and compassion. Key here is that anger is not directed outwards, which would generate grudges and practices of revenge and yet more antagonism and conflict. Han, by contrast, is an inward oriented emotion that is then transformed in the spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation. In an ideal scenario, such a process does not simply end up in a situation where the grieving individual accepts her or his fate and submits to the overall societal order. Much rather, 70

Some version of Chunhyang features this plot, but others don’t. See Kim Kwangwon “「Chunhaynjeon」ui Kaltoung Kuchowa Hanui Sownghwa,” (The conflict structure of 「Chunhaynjeon」and transcend of Han) HankuEunyomunhak 35 (1995): p. 237.

18

the idea is that both victim and perpetuator of Han can break through cycles of conflict and domination, thus improving the situation for all parties concerned. Such path towards social justice and harmony is undoubtedly littered with obstacles, some of them being virtually impossible to overcome. The Korean tradition does not pretend there are easy solutions, but it does offer a sophisticated way of dealing with the related challenges. This is why the concept of Han, culturally specific as it may well be, can add to our understanding of conflict and our efforts to manage them.

19