By Jason Lim
By now, it's pretty apparent that the impeached former president, Park Geun-hye, was a princess. Although the monarchy is a thing of the past in Korea, Park was born and raised as a princess during her formative years in the Blue House. Considering that her father ruled for eighteen continuous years as an ironfisted dictator, Park was more than the first daughter ― she literally was Korea's modern princess.
When her mother was assassinated, Park was elevated to the role of the first lady and tasked with fulfilling the many ceremonial and public relations functions that her mother did previously. During this time, Park was more about style than substance as the first daughter and first lady. This was her life. This was what she knew.
People don't change easily. We should have suspected that she wouldn't have changed during the time in which she was out of the public eye. And the Choi's, who enriched themselves by serving as the proxy family and enabler for Park, catered to her ingrained sense of entitlement and vainglory. Other enablers nostalgic for Park Chung-hee's glory days and power seekers who also sought to benefit from Park's name also gathered around Park Geun-hye and ultimately succeeded in having her elected president ― in a way, fulfilling Park's own sense of destiny as the queen in waiting.
Sure, there were rumors of Park's unhealthy cultish attachment to the original Choi patriarch, but they were dismissed as unsubstantiated. There were whispers of Park's lack of substance and understanding ― or even disinterest ― in complex policy matters, but they were similarly discounted. When Korean baby boomers saw Park Geun-hye, they saw Park Chung-hee and his days of strong leadership. They voted their nostalgia for a simpler time with a singular direction, clear enemy, and everyone pulling in the same direction. It's not an overstatement to say that Park Geun-hye was elected because of her father.
Then they expected her to be the president. But they had elected a princess to do the job. So, when Park continued to act like a princess who had come back to the palace, it was only a matter of time until the whole charade came crashing down. Even the Choi's and other enablers could no longer mask Park from the world. The stage was too large and spotlight too bright.
The personal tragedy of this story is that Park was a Cinderella who couldn't cut it in the palace. Her Prince Charming was her long-dead father. In other words, Park was made the president on the strength of her father's memory. By any substantive measure, she didn't earn the job. Even worse, she didn't understand the job. She picked up where she left off, not knowing that the presidency was fundamentally different from the ceremonial role she fulfilled before. She only looked the part of what people wanted to see.
But this column is not about Park.
It's about the culture of Cinderella in Korea. It's about the unashamed celebration and envy when a woman's socioeconomic status is elevated through her association or marriage with a more powerful man or institution. It's about the overwhelming buzz that surrounds the news that a pretty actress or celebrity is dating or has married a scion of one of the conglomerates. Remember Ko Hyun-jung marrying into the Shinsaegae family or Noh Hyun-jung marrying into the Hyundai family? You would think they had won the biggest lottery jackpot in the world. It's as if a woman's looks and celebrity status is her most important currency that she needs to optimize to "catch" a man who can be her Prince Charming.
And speaking of newscasters, why is it obligatory for TV news to have a pretty, young female co-announcer delivering news next to a much older, seasoned male anchor? What has she done to earn that coveted position? What stories has she covered or scoops has she hunted down? I don't have anything against the female anchors, but it's pretty obvious that they are just highly skilled eye-candy. They weren't chosen for their substance but their looks.
This is why the news that President Moon Jae-in nominated Kang Kyung-wha as the next Foreign Minister is so refreshing precisely because she's not a Cinderella. She got there all by herself. She is currently a special adviser on policy to UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres; the 62-year-old diplomat has also been the foreign ministry's director general and the UN's assistant secretary-general for humanitarian affairs. Kang was chosen for her substance, not her looks.
Admittedly, other Korean women had broken high profile gender barriers before based on their substance. But the real cultural change will come when Korean society stops celebrating ― as a matter of fact ― the seeming elevation of a woman based on how her looks appeal to a powerful and rich man. The stench of such superficiality sickens everyone.
Cinderella is a fairytale. It should actually be a cautionary tale. Korea has seen the havoc a Cinderella can wreak.
Jason Lim is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture. He has been writing for The Korea Times since 2006. Reach him at jasonlim@msn.com, facebook. com/jasonlimkoreatimes or @jasonlim2012.
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When her mother was assassinated, Park was elevated to the role of the first lady and tasked with fulfilling the many ceremonial and public relations functions that her mother did previously. During this time, Park was more about style than substance as the first daughter and first lady. This was her life. This was what she knew.
People don't change easily. We should have suspected that she wouldn't have changed during the time in which she was out of the public eye. And the Choi's, who enriched themselves by serving as the proxy family and enabler for Park, catered to her ingrained sense of entitlement and vainglory. Other enablers nostalgic for Park Chung-hee's glory days and power seekers who also sought to benefit from Park's name also gathered around Park Geun-hye and ultimately succeeded in having her elected president ― in a way, fulfilling Park's own sense of destiny as the queen in waiting.
Sure, there were rumors of Park's unhealthy cultish attachment to the original Choi patriarch, but they were dismissed as unsubstantiated. There were whispers of Park's lack of substance and understanding ― or even disinterest ― in complex policy matters, but they were similarly discounted. When Korean baby boomers saw Park Geun-hye, they saw Park Chung-hee and his days of strong leadership. They voted their nostalgia for a simpler time with a singular direction, clear enemy, and everyone pulling in the same direction. It's not an overstatement to say that Park Geun-hye was elected because of her father.
Then they expected her to be the president. But they had elected a princess to do the job. So, when Park continued to act like a princess who had come back to the palace, it was only a matter of time until the whole charade came crashing down. Even the Choi's and other enablers could no longer mask Park from the world. The stage was too large and spotlight too bright.
The personal tragedy of this story is that Park was a Cinderella who couldn't cut it in the palace. Her Prince Charming was her long-dead father. In other words, Park was made the president on the strength of her father's memory. By any substantive measure, she didn't earn the job. Even worse, she didn't understand the job. She picked up where she left off, not knowing that the presidency was fundamentally different from the ceremonial role she fulfilled before. She only looked the part of what people wanted to see.
But this column is not about Park.
It's about the culture of Cinderella in Korea. It's about the unashamed celebration and envy when a woman's socioeconomic status is elevated through her association or marriage with a more powerful man or institution. It's about the overwhelming buzz that surrounds the news that a pretty actress or celebrity is dating or has married a scion of one of the conglomerates. Remember Ko Hyun-jung marrying into the Shinsaegae family or Noh Hyun-jung marrying into the Hyundai family? You would think they had won the biggest lottery jackpot in the world. It's as if a woman's looks and celebrity status is her most important currency that she needs to optimize to "catch" a man who can be her Prince Charming.
And speaking of newscasters, why is it obligatory for TV news to have a pretty, young female co-announcer delivering news next to a much older, seasoned male anchor? What has she done to earn that coveted position? What stories has she covered or scoops has she hunted down? I don't have anything against the female anchors, but it's pretty obvious that they are just highly skilled eye-candy. They weren't chosen for their substance but their looks.
This is why the news that President Moon Jae-in nominated Kang Kyung-wha as the next Foreign Minister is so refreshing precisely because she's not a Cinderella. She got there all by herself. She is currently a special adviser on policy to UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres; the 62-year-old diplomat has also been the foreign ministry's director general and the UN's assistant secretary-general for humanitarian affairs. Kang was chosen for her substance, not her looks.
Admittedly, other Korean women had broken high profile gender barriers before based on their substance. But the real cultural change will come when Korean society stops celebrating ― as a matter of fact ― the seeming elevation of a woman based on how her looks appeal to a powerful and rich man. The stench of such superficiality sickens everyone.
Cinderella is a fairytale. It should actually be a cautionary tale. Korea has seen the havoc a Cinderella can wreak.
Jason Lim is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture. He has been writing for The Korea Times since 2006. Reach him at jasonlim@msn.com, facebook. com/jasonlimkoreatimes or @jasonlim2012.
