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

Chapter 1.2 Encountering the World : The Allure of Literature

At some point, our conversation shifted to South Korea's industrial structure.

"You know, our country doesn't really rely on its domestic market. We survive off exports—technology and science are everything. We're exporting nuclear power plants to the Czech Republic, K9 tanks to Europe, even Samsung phones and LG electronics all over the world. So, it's not surprising that companies haven't been too keen on hiring literature or humanities majors."

My friend nodded. "Yeah, and back in our day, if you didn't study business or economics, landing a job at a major company was even tougher. That's why so many humanities students opted for civil service exams instead."

But there was always a certain irony to it. While South Korea placed such high importance on science and technology, the country's top government positions were still held by people with humanities backgrounds. Politicians, ministers, even the president and prime minister—most of them were former prosecutors or judges, all from the humanities side.

"If you think about it, it's like the old Confucian hierarchy of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants is still alive. The scholars may hold power, but it's the artisans, the ones working with their hands, who are making the money. Here in Korea, STEM graduates may have better job prospects, but when it comes to politics or high-ranking positions, it's still dominated by humanities graduates. Doesn't that seem a little absurd?"

He chuckled, nodding. "Exactly. We're living in a society where that Confucian mix is still present. But who knows, maybe things will start to change, especially with all the talk about integrating the sciences and humanities."

As we reflected on the old conflicts between the humanities and sciences from our high school days, the conversation deepened into a discussion about South Korea's industrial structure and how it shaped job prospects. Our dialogue began to blur the lines between the two fields, just like how Western and Korean literature seem different but ultimately strive toward the same truths. My scientific reasoning and his humanities-driven sensibility intertwined, making for an engaging conversation. And, of course, no conversation between old high school friends would be complete without reminiscing about those shared memories.

We exchanged a glance, both lost in the past. My friend wrapped one hand around his coffee cup, using the other to trace the outlines of old memories.

"Do you remember? After night study sessions in high school, we'd still head to the cram school. We'd sit in the study rooms until 2 a.m., trying to cram more into our heads," he said with a faint smile. But beneath that smile lay a bitter recollection. "Back then, our only companions were the pencils shining beneath the desk lamps in the dark. The sound of pens scraping across paper, mixed with sighs—that was the soundtrack of our classroom."

I nodded in agreement. "Korea's obsession with education was really something. To survive in that competition, you had to sacrifice sleep, give up weekends. And let's be honest, 'voluntary night study' wasn't voluntary at all."

"Our parents' generation believed that the only path to success was through education. Their own experiences with the country's rapid development made them think that the key to economic security was passed down through us, and that key was a university degree," he added, his voice softening. "'You need to get into a good university to get a good job.' That was their entire belief system."

I fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. "Even during the uncertainty of the IMF crisis, they clung to that belief. A single line on a report card was enough to determine someone's future. That conviction was powerful."

"So, do you think it's any different now?"

"Culture doesn't change easily, but I think people are starting to loosen their grip on that pressure, little by little. Still, I bet there are plenty of kids who are trapped in that same obsession with education. And unlike in the West, it's still very much about rote memorization here."