Breaking Boundaries in Literature: The Nobel Prize and Korea's Untold Stories

Chapter 1. Veiled Narratives: Nobel Prize and Its Biased Allure

As darkness slowly settled over the apartment complex, the old neighborhood of Gangbuk outside my window fell into a hushed stillness. I moved into the living room, sinking into the sofa, my eyes glued to the television screen. The news endlessly repeated the announcement of the Nobel Prize in Literature awarded to a Korean writer. This achievement was hailed as a national glory, creating a cacophony of excitement across various media outlets—our second such triumph, following the Nobel Peace Prize.

South Korea, often overshadowed by its more powerful Eastern neighbors, China and Japan, is not widely recognized on the global stage. Even though our nation ranks among the top ten in GDP, it doesn't share the same prominence as Japan, which once thrived in the 1980s amidst the bubble economy and vibrant coral reefs. While K-POP phenomena like BTS and BLACKPINK have sparked a global interest, South Korea remains a relatively obscure country.

In this context, the Nobel Prize felt like a momentous celebration. Yet, I was reluctant to accept this work as the embodiment of Korean literature. Our land is not only geographically divided but also socially fragmented. Although South Korea and North Korea maintain distinct political systems, the increasing socio-political divides within our own society were becoming hard to ignore. Under the guise of ideology—or perhaps more accurately, as a struggle for survival—conflicts persisted daily. "Can a skewed narrative truly be deemed representative of 'universal human experience' in such a nation?"

Gender conflicts, generational divides, and ideological clashes between the left and right had become pervasive. The struggle between men and women stemmed from traditional Confucian values, but it had morphed into an intense confrontation, fueled by Western feminist ideals. Feminism itself has been distorted, and online communities are rife with hostility that surpasses mere criticism.

In Europe, rankings hold little significance. However, in Eastern nations, there's a keen interest in social hierarchies and status. People often focus on GDP rankings, happiness indices, class divisions, and educational backgrounds, taking comfort in understanding their position relative to others. This preoccupation with status is deeply ingrained in our culture.

Among these concerns, the rift between men and women in their 20s and 30s has emerged as one of the most significant conflicts. It's worth noting that South Korea has a higher female population. While I can empathize with women raising their voices against the patriarchal norms of the past, I feel a sense of frustration whenever the term "Han-nam", a derogatory term for Korean men, is thrown around. Feminism began with the noble goal of advocating for women's rights, but over time, it has morphed into more extreme manifestations. For instance, online communities often use "Han-nam" to demean Korean men, even belittling their own fathers. Some take it further, mocking men's bodies with gestures implying their inadequacy compared to Western men, leading to a barrage of sexual insults. This animosity has led men to label women as "Han-nyeo" and a growing number of men have started opting for international marriages.

This intensifying conflict is rooted in a complex web of social and political factors that extend beyond gender strife. Politically, these divisions are exploited for electoral gain, with women typically aligning with the left and men with the right. Politicians have secured their support by taking sides in this battle, and the resulting friction has contributed to the country's declining birth rate. While similar conflicts are emerging in the West, the severity of the gender divide in Korea is alarming.

"How did it come to this?" I often wonder. Surely, this wasn't the original intent of feminism.

The conflict between the youth and the older generations runs deep. Stuck in the values of Confucianism, the older generations find themselves at odds with a younger crowd that embodies an entirely different ethos.