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Archive for May, 2009

In South Korea, All of Life Is Mobile

May 27th, 2009
NYT
May 25, 2009
 

Park Jin-Hee for the International Herald Tribune

Kim Hee Young, right, 21, a statistics major, and Choi Yoon Hee, 22, a computer science major, bought food tickets in the cafeteria at at Sookmyung Women’s University using their cellphones.

Park Jin-Hee for the International Herald Tribune

A student used her cellphone to enter the main library at Sookmyung Women’s University in Seoul.

She wakes up in the morning when her mobile phone detonates an alarm, a loud Korean pop song. She checks weather forecasts on its screen before selecting what to wear.

In the subway, Ms. Kim breezes through the turnstile after tapping the phone on a box that deducts the fare from a chip that contains a cash balance. While riding to school, she uses her mobile to check if a book has arrived at the library, slays aliens in a role-playing game, updates her Internet blog or watches TV.

On campus, she and other students touch their mobiles to the electronic box by the door to mark their attendance. No need for roll call — the school’s server computer logs whether they are in or how late they are for the class.

“If I leave my wallet at home, I may not notice it for the whole day,” said Ms. Kim, 21. “But if I lose my cellphone, my life will start stumbling right there in the subway.”

It has been a while since the mobile phone became more than just a phone, serving as a texting device, a camera and a digital music player, among other things. But experts say South Korea, because of its high-speed wireless networks and top technology companies like Samsung and LG, is the test case for the mobile future.

“We want to bring complex bits of daily life — cash, credit card, membership card and student ID card, everything — into the mobile phone,” said Shim Gi-tae, a mobile financing official at SK Telecom, the country’s largest wireless carrier. “We want to make the cellphone the center of life.”

With young South Koreans changing mobile phones once a year, according to consumer groups, it is virtually impossible to keep track of what they can do with the latest models. But the use of mobile devices is so widespread that at any given time, you will see South Koreans of all ages sitting in subways and buses engrossed in watching a television soap opera on hand-held devices, very often their mobile phones. They talk on the phone and at the same time read comic books on its screen. And these comics have sound effects: Phones vibrate when a bomb explodes.

In 2005, South Korea became the first country in the world where mobiles could receive digital television signals — something Americans with their latest iPhones are just beginning to get used to. Like many other places these days, the phone is also a calculator, dictionary and stopwatch; a television remote control and navigator for your car. Newspapers are delivered to mobile phones. Ms. Kim measures her biorhythms with hers. Some even get fired by mobile: In March, a group of taxi drivers rallied after their company sent them a text message of dismissal — a practice that gained notoriety as the country’s economic downturn deepened.

Here, people sometimes even raise pets by phone, part of a global fad that began in the late 1990s with the Japanese invention of the Tamagotchi digital pet. You feed, walk and clean up behind the digi-dog that lives inside your mobile. If you neglect it, it sulks, withers and dies.

Among all these features, however, one enterprise the country’s wireless carriers are banking on is bringing cash and credit to the mobile phone, “thus making South Korea a walletless, cashless society,” said Ju Hee-sang, a manager for mobile cash payments at SK.

Each month last year, four million South Koreans bought music, videos, ring tones, online game subscriptions and articles from newspaper archives and other online items and charged them to their mobile phone bills, without going through any bank or credit card. The amount totaled 1.7 trillion won, or $1.4 billion at current exchange rates, last year. South Koreans have done this since 2000.

From late last year, people use “T-money” — electronic cash stored and refilled in their SIM cards and other phone chips — as Ms. Kim does when she rides the subway and bus or buys snacks from a 7-Eleven at her neighborhood or the vending machines and cafeteria of her school. Instead of giving their children cash, parents can transfer money to their kids’ T-money account.

T-money also makes mobile gift-giving possible. Someone can check into a mobile carrier’s online shop, buy an icon depicting a Starbucks Frappuccino and send it to his girlfriend’s phone. She can then go to the Starbucks, show the icon and get the drink. Each day, 70,000 mobile gifts — from Dunkin’ Donuts and pizza to underwear and cosmetics — are delivered through SK’s networks.

Since 2000, South Koreans also use their mobile phones for Internet banking. For a fixed rate of 1,000 won a month, mobile phone users can check their bank accounts or send money, away from the A.T.M. or personal computer, and sitting, for example, in the taxi.

Mobile phone banking is also gaining a foothold in Britain and the United States. Last year, Citibank began offering mobile-banking software for customers who use the iPhone. The programs were developed jointly with SK. Mobile phones have also emerged as a popular tool of banking in some of the world’s poorest countries, from India to Zambia, where many people do not have a bank or the wired Internet in their villages but have mobile phones.

For South Koreans, efforts to replace credit cards and cash hit their stride in 2004, when banks began issuing integrated circuit chips that slot into the mobile phones and allow them to work like credit cards at A.T.M.’s.

Instead of scratching or feeding the plastic card into the A.T.M., the customer places the phone on a tray-like reader. This year, the wireless carriers began incorporating the same chips into the Universal Subscriber Identity Module, a memory chip that comes with every third-generation mobile phone. The USIM chip can contain up to 100 credit cards and means no more bulky wallet.

Mobile payment has been adopted in many parts of Europe and Asia, especially in Japan. Still, phones have a long way to go before replacing plastic.

“Not many passengers pay with their cellphones,” said Park Yong-sang, a taxi driver in Seoul whose car has the terminal that accepts payment by the mobile phone. “You won’t understand this until you start using it.”

Public transportation, convenience stores, Internet cafes, discount stores and online shopping malls accept credit cards or T-money by mobile. But most shops and restaurants do not, and banks and wireless companies are still squabbling over who should pay for the cost of installing the chip reader.

In 2008, 22.8 trillion won changed hands each day through Internet banking in South Korea. Of that amount, mobile handsets handled only 151 billion won, less than 1 percent, according to the Bank of Korea.

“We are still in a shift, educating the people in the convergence of banking and mobile technology,” Shim Gi-tae, of SK Telecom, said. “We are optimistic because using a mobile phone is much more convenient than getting your wallet out or going to an A.T.M.”

At Sookmyung Women’s University, one of the country’s growing number of schools boasting a “ubiquitous campus,” the mobile future has arrived. Students reserve seats in the library, check their grades and even pay for the washing machines in the dormitory with their mobile phones. The shift began in 2002, when the school authorities found that 98 out of every 100 students had mobile phones.

“They may come to school without their student ID cards but seldom without their phones,” said Jung Dong-hey, the university’s mobile technology administrator. “So why not use the mobile phone as a student card.”

For Kim Hee-young, her mobile is the Swiss Army knife of the digital era. When she wants ice cream, she just asks her phone, and it shows a list of ice cream shops — complete with their menus and customer reviews — and the shortest way to get there.

“During exams, professors ask us to turn off our cellphones, not just because of the noise but because we can search the Net for answers,” Ms. Kim said.

 

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Local Pop Culture Facing New Challenges

May 22nd, 2009
Korea Times
05-22-2009 17:23

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Clockwise from top left, Korean blockbuster film“, Shiri”directed by Kang Je-gyu; BoA of SM Entertainment; Korean TV drama “Jewel in the Palace”starring Lee Young-ae / Korea Times File Photos

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By Chung Ah-young
Staff Reporter

Is hallyu, or Korean Wave, waning or still booming? There has been lots of talk about the sustainability of hallyu among industry insiders as the overseas success of some of Korea’s TV dramas and movies seemed to have declined in recent years.

Freelance writer Mark James Russell, however, dismisses the term, hallyu. He once jokingly called it “Zombie Wave” for these worriers, arguing that there never was a Korean Wave in the first place, so it couldn’t really be said to be dying or anything.

Then, what is the Korean Wave? Korean pop culture crosses many media, demographics and regions and it means very different things to different people.

“I don’t like the term, Korean Wave, because it is like a black box. It doesn’t really explain anything. Why is something popular with older women in Japan and with younger kids in Southeast Asia and middle-aged men in America? These are very different trends and forces that are happening,” Russell said in an interview with The Korea Times.

Russell, author of the new book “Pop Goes Korea,” said that there are a lot of negative connotations associated with Korean Wave ― shortsighted fad, poor financing and crude nationalism.

“Korea was at the forefront in Asia supplying this kind of lessons from the entertainment industries. Hong Kong is getting very aggressive in its movies, making its mo090522_p15_pop3vies pan-Asia’s blockbusters. Taiwan is trying very hard to emulate the Korean movie industries. Korea was very fortunate to be at the forefront of this change. … You have to fight and struggle to keep that cutting-edge trend,” he said.

The journalist came to Korea from Canada to teach English in 1996, and worked as a correspondent for the Hollywood Reporter and Billboard. In his new book, Russell analyzes the evolution of the country’s pop culture from the past to the present.

The lively-looking book with colorful images of Korean celebrities delves into various genres of pop culture and features his abundant in-depth profiles of the entertainment moguls.

He portrays the film industry and infrastructure through the story of how big corporations such as CJ Entertainment stepped into film production and multiplex-building, transforming the local cinematic landscape and the economic dynamics of producing a blockbuster, shedding light on Kang Je-gyu’s big productions.

Concerning the screen quota, he said that “it is a placebo.”

“At best, it was a psychological aid,” he said. In his book, he argued that people buy tickets to movies they want to see; if there is nothing playing that they like, then they don’t buy tickets. Forcing theaters to show movies no one wants to see does not mean more box office receipts, it only hurts the theater owners and distributions.

Instead, he said that there are a lot of things that the government can do to help make the industry stronger. “Having a strong, reliable rule of a law or having good financing … things that you can trust … Enforcing copyrights. The government and the film industry have to put more energy into enforcing copyright than they do for the screen quota,” he said.

Japan has a protective market and strong copyright protection. DVD sales in Japan are also going down but physical sales in Japan have been strong for a long time. When it comes to Korea, everything is already full of piracy, he said. “Every street corner has tape guys and video CDs or whatever. The most important thing is creating good alternatives. I don’t think you need to put all your energy into cracking down on illegal stuff … you need to put more energy into providing reliable, convenient and affordable alternatives,” he said.

Also, one of the most serious problems facing Korean pop culture is the lack of historical connection, Russell argued. People buy today’s hit songs but they don’t buy the hits of yesterday. They flood the movie theaters, but they don’t watch films at the repertory cinemas or buy DVDs.

Compared to the Japanese who love to collect, Koreans are kind of the next generation, he said. “They don’t need such things as books or DVDs at home and they want to just hook up to the Internet and read it there. It’s a more immediate and next generation culture,” he said.

In America and Europe, movie theaters are less then half the revenue of a film. More revenue comes from all the other things ― TV and home videos. But in Korea, 80-85 percent of revenue comes from the movie theater. “Very risky and very unhealthy. People have shown that they are willing to pay for contents in many different ways,” he said.

Catalog sales are essential to any country’s pop culture, bringing in steady revenue streams that can tide companies over in the lean times and when big projects misfire. “That means the industry has to look at long-term development. It’s not about today’s hits. It’s about cultivating artists and it’s also making the companies more stable. Today’s hits tend to be things younger people are interested in. It’s limiting the market. The 35-year-olds don’t watch the same movie the 25-year-olds watch and the 45-year-olds don’t listen to music the 15-year-olds listen to,” he said.

He also pointed out that Korean music has become less diverse. “It’s easy to blame SM Entertainment or JYP. But if people start buying good music and different kinds of music, the record companies will respond,” he said.

It’s interesting to examine pop culture through personal profiles, such as the TV drama industry through the career of heartthrob Lee Byung-hun, the story of how Lee Soo-man of SM Entertainment produced BoA and Shinhwa and other profile stars and how internet file-sharing sites and services such as Soribada impacted the music industry and the manhwa culture.

“People find people stories and personal struggles interesting in terms of individual stories rather than the institutions ― Miky Lee from CJ Entertainment, Kang Je-gyu from blockbuster movies and Lee Soo-man rather than the music industry and Lee Byung-hun in the television industry in general and Sean Yang in Soribada,” he said.

The book reveals not only the challenges of Korean pop culture but also triumphs and feats in entertainment and arts with poignant analysis and anecdotes to help the industry move in a better direction.

“The question for Korea is how will its entertainment industries respond to the new challenges and competition heading their way. Ten years is a long time to shine and doubtlessly as other entertainment industries around Asia grow and learn, they will compete more and more intensely with Korea. Contending with this rising competition may be difficult, but it is also healthy, pushing creators and creative industries in Korea and across Asia,” he said.

chungay@koreatimes.co.kr

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(517) Merry Widows!

May 22nd, 2009
Korea Times
05-22-2009 15:16

By Andrei Lanov

In old Korea, widows were viewed with deep suspicion. Everybody with even a cursory knowledge of pre-1900 Korean literature knows that widows were usually depicted as lecherous creatures, driven by their insatiable and immoral sexual desires ― and, as we shall see, any sexual desire in their case was immoral by definition.

The old fiction sometimes mentioned chaste widows as well, but it was often stressed that one had to be a woman of exceptional virtue to successfully resist the manifold temptations available.

Traditional Korean morals held that women should be “chaste”: virginal before marriage and unconditionally loyal to their husbands during the marriage. But what about widows who were bound to be numerous in a society with an average life expectancy in the early 1920s?

They had to remain loyal to their late husband. Thus, in the official parlance, a widow came to be known as “mimangin” or “not-yet-dead-person.” As the name suggested, a decent widow had to wait for her death. It was laudable or even advisable if she sped the process up by committing suicide, thus avoiding all dangerous and ruinous temptations.

But the works of fiction leave little doubt that Koreans did not believe that many women lived up to the lofty ideal of chaste widowhood. The marriage of a widow was formally banned until 1894, and even after it was lifted such marriages were discouraged.

These age-old fears resurfaced in the 1950s when Korean society had to deal with the “widow problem” on a hitherto unprecedented scale. Even though during the Korean War both sides demonstrated a remarkably equal approach to the sexes when it came to indiscriminate killing, men still had many more chances to perish.

Thus, according to the 1957 data, there were 550,000 war widows in Korea. Most of them were wives of South Korean soldiers and policemen killed in action during the Korean War (there was also a very small number of women whose husbands perished while fighting on the other side).

Only 34,000 were single, while others took care of families ― not only children but also elderly parents and younger siblings. Almost a million (910,000, to be more precise) people were members of families headed by the widows.

The situation was bad, since Korea was desperately poor and it could not provide adequate work even for able bodied and skilled men.

The opportunities for female employment were very limited, especially since only 640 war widows (or 0.1 percent of the total) had a college education, while approximately half of them had never attended any regular school at all.

Thus, in 1957, half of the widows had no jobs, or had jobs that did not pay enough to support their families.

The government established special centers for widows where they could find housing and support. Throughout the 1950s, there were some 60 to 65 such centers (for example, 64 in 1957) with 7,000 to 8,000 women resident at any one time.

But this was but a tiny fraction of all the widows. Since only a small number of women could be possibly accepted, the centers were usually open only to widows with small children.

Such centers not only provided women with housing and food, but also gave them some training in potentially useful occupations: hairdressing, dressmaking or knitting. However, it would be overstating the case to say that those women left the shelters with marketable skills: The data we have indicates that their employment rate was low.

Apart from the shelters, there were also vocational training centers, but they hardly fared much better. For most women, the 1950s and early 1960s was a period when they had to struggle along with odd jobs (largely in small trade) until their children grew old enough to take care of themselves and their aging mothers. Fortunately, for most widows, this was eventually the case.

And, of course, society could not stop worrying about widows’ sexual mores. According to established tradition, the chaste widows were to be glorified: In 1955 Pak Nam-ok, one of the few female directors then active in Korea, produced a movie called “Widow” which tells the story of a brave and chaste woman resisting all temptations and advances of predatory males.

However, should such advances always be resisted? In 1956, well-known novelist Chang Tok-jo published an essay in which he stated that for a childless woman re-marriage and perhaps even love affairs could be permissible.

However, he did not doubt that for a widow with children such frivolities should not be tolerated, and he also made clear that a love affair of a childless widow should in due course lead to a proper marriage and motherhood.

Some authors went even further, and challenged the centuries-old assumptions, even suggesting that re-marriage could be suitable even for those widows who were taking care of children.

Amusingly, in their polemic they often cited the alleged sexual insatiability of widows, which could lead to social incidents and complications.

A female journalist wrote, “If [widows] cannot control their sexual desires, remarriage is much more suitable and honorable [solution]” ― presumably, more suitable and honorable than promiscuous liaisons with married men.

Indeed, the 1950s was a time when many old assumptions about proper behavior met with a powerful challenge.

Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul. He has recently published “The Dawn of Modern Korea,” which is now on sale at Kyobo Book Center and other major bookstores. The book is based on columns published in The Korea Times. He can be reached at anlankov@yahoo.com

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