Have you ever wondered why certain literary works, rich in political overtones, earn the prestigious Nobel Prize while the heart of a culture often goes unnoticed? Breaking Boundaries in Literature: The Nobel Prize and Korea's Untold Stories invites...
"When chaos arises, order is restored. If you throw yourself into that chaos, the simulation will end!"
In the subway, I felt the oppressive weight of humanity's distinct body odors closing in. The mingling scents of various individuals formed a complex aroma, a reminder that order and chaos must intertwine to reach a new dimension. Chaos breeds order, and that order inevitably transforms over time. Does this mean order and chaos are interdependent?
Yes, order is inherently ambiguous and artificial. In the end, those boundaries are merely concepts crafted by humanity. Just as we impose order upon chaos, our lives are subjectively whimsical, shaped by our perceptions. The ambiguity of law and morality, the criteria of good and evil, may very well reflect humanity's quest for order. Furthermore, the act of inciting prejudice based on these criteria can lead to immense stress and a sense of loss. We strive to define ourselves by comparing with others.
Only when we embrace a variety of perspectives can we truly discover our intrinsic value. Chaos is not merely disorder; it is a part of a greater order. Within the cycle of creation and destruction, balance is achieved.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Author's Note
I'm not here to criticize that work; I'm genuinely curious about the intent behind the award. The events that unfolded in South Korea left deep scars on both sides, embedding chaos and trauma in the hearts of the victims.
The genre of fiction often demands conflict. It frequently draws a line between good and evil. Yet, words and narratives hold immense power. Some may argue they are impartial, but as anyone who has read my work knows, we each perceive everything through our own lens. Humans can never fully understand each other. Especially in our youth, once the beliefs or pains of one side harden, it becomes incredibly difficult to break free from that frame. I worry that as children encounter Nobel Prize-winning literature, they may come to harbor animosity toward one side. If they develop such feelings before they've acquired critical thinking skills, it can be even more challenging. It's not easy for adults either. Moreover, there's the risk of this work being politically exploited—sacralized and used to divide us. I hope our society does not become trapped in binary thinking.
Applying a socialist model wholesale is also problematic. The country of Korea is geographically and structurally different from Europe, so simply mimicking their welfare model isn't realistic. While I might be challenged with the question, "How do you know without trying?" it's clear that a country lacking resources and relying heavily on technology should take a different path. In truth, the left in our nation has been significantly influenced by the pro-North ideology and attempts to present a plausible vision by tacking on Europe's welfare model. However, whether that's desirable is questionable. They praise Venezuela one moment and elevate the Nordic model the next, but when those countries fail, they quietly fall silent. This seems to be the nature of politics. When they wield ideological rhetoric to grasp power deceitfully, it's hard not to question the intentions of the countries granting the Nobel Prize.
In the end, isn't ideology merely a struggle for power and a fight over livelihoods? Watching the current left, I feel as if I'm observing the past right. Why is it that the left, which once fought for freedom, now seeks to restrict it? It's truly disheartening to see the award become a symbol of sanctification and a political tool. I hope it doesn't turn into a playground for those in power. At the same time, I hold on to the belief that such chaos can create order. Just as new order emerged from the wounds and chaos of that time, a new order will arise from this incident as well.
Finally, I want to break free from anthropocentric thinking. I don't wish to write for "humans," but rather for "nature" and "the world," even if my writing might not be entertaining. After nearly ten years of working as a civil servant in local government, I left and have since explored various businesses; now, I find myself writing. It feels like I'm publishing my fourteenth book. I wouldn't say I'm a good writer, nor is my style anything to boast about. I've even begun to understand the meaning behind the notion that ignorance fuels writing. Despite the absence of definitive answers in the world, I find myself needing to complete my work, grounding it in my established beliefs. Yet, the reason I persist in writing is that I find the process incredibly enjoyable. However, alongside that joy, there's discomfort, particularly because I've always felt uneasy about the ideological bias that leans left in global literature and the arts.
The literary world often defines war and conflict as evil, while peace and equality are cast as virtues. This binary thinking is not limited to Korean literature; it permeates global narratives as well. In the past, literature thrived through the creative fusion of physicists, scientists, and philosophers. Yet today, it seems to be swayed by emotion and pain, often neglecting to explore the vast potential of humanity. For instance, the concept of equality rooted in leftist ideology can, paradoxically, give rise to new inequalities and serve as a tool of oppression against freedom.
Why are we trapped in this binary thinking, unable to grasp the full meaning of duality?
Both the left and the right often engage in highly biased thinking based on their beliefs, which I find troubling. While convictions can greatly influence individuals, once they are formed, they become difficult to reverse. Thus, my writing may not resonate deeply with those entrenched in their ideologies. Nonetheless, I hope that world literature and Korean literature can embrace true diversity. Such notions are merely anthropocentric ideas, detached from the natural order.
Humans are not the masters of nature.
Science is rife with errors, yet if we consider it from a physical standpoint, the universe operates according to the principles of relativity, quantum mechanics, and the second law of thermodynamics, which suggest that it is relative and possesses simultaneity within chaos. The ideal of equality is not a natural order; it is merely a concept created by humans. This bias leads to the paradox of "What is romantic when I do it becomes infidelity when others do."
Although my attempt to unpack the principle of duality from the perspective of parallel universes may be lacking, I've endeavored to articulate it nonetheless. Perhaps I come off as peculiar for saying this. In a world where criticism is not freely welcomed and dissent is met with backlash, especially in South Korea, I wanted to make my voice heard. Though my writing may be flawed, I sincerely thank everyone who has taken the time to read it to the end.
NOTE:
"Pro-North ideology": In South Korea, the term refers to a political stance that sympathizes with North Korea, often controversial due to the complex history and ongoing tensions between the two nations.
"The paradox of 'What is romantic when I do it becomes infidelity when others do'": This phrase captures the double standard in societal norms surrounding relationships, which can vary based on perspective, and may not resonate equally across different cultural contexts.
