he mark of real cultural influence is not how much or how often it is noticed, but how normal it feels. Today, South Korea’s global reach is so ubiquitous and felt in so many domains, that it is hard to put a pin in the calendar and say “ah, yes, that’s the date that Seoul went global” or, for that matter, to notice its creeping appearance.
Yet, my Netflix queue is nearly all South Korean dramas of one form or another—yes, I did binge “Squid Games,” but I am quite partial to “Money Heist: Korea—Joint Economic Area,” “All of Us Are Dead,” and “Hellbound.” The odd K-Pop song is on my Spotify playlist and I eagerly look forward to periodic Korean BBQ dinners. And that’s just me. More broadly, E-sports—something Korea defined as a sport worth watching has gone global—BTS—the world’s most popular group—visited the White House, and “Parasite” became the first foreign-language film to win the Oscar for Best Picture. This is to say nothing of its globally recognized brands in semiconductors, shipping, automotive manufacturing, or defense—among others.
Today, it is hard to consider South Korea anything but a global powerhouse. Yet, this was not always the case and the journey was far less linear or smooth than today’s status would suggest. Ramon Pacheco Pardo explores the two millennia rise of South Korea in his new book “Shrimp to Whale.”
Before the pandemic I was fortunate enough to visit Seoul and was immediately hooked. It is one of the most vibrant and dynamic cities that I have ever visited and one for which I am eagerly looking for an excuse to return to—especially knowing I barely scratched the surface of both the city, let alone the country. Early in the book, Pardo writes how the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) gets far more attention than the South, but the South is the far more interesting of the two. One’s unstable neighbor—especially one with nuclear weapons—draws far more interest and attention than the neighbor who regularly takes out the trash and separates the recycling.
“Shrimp to Whale” is a superb corrective to the not unsurprising imbalance between Pyongyang and Seoul. That Pardo manages to cover South Korea’s history as thoroughly as he does in such a slim package—it is only 222 pages excluding end notes—is impressive. After breezily covering South Korea’s pre-1948 history in the preface, Pardo spends the remainder of the book on the rise of modern South Korea—from the post-Second World War period through to today. It is at its core very much a survey of South Korea’s rise, but a very thorough one. That brevity is, however, at times a shortcoming. In an attempt to cover everything some detail is sacrificed and, as others have noted, the reasons for South Korea’s successes are not explored in depth—one does wish there was a greater exploration of the chaebols—and the future risks to South Korea’s position are left unexplored.
What Pardo does superbly well is follow his thesis from start to finish: how South Korea went from the titular shrimp amongst whales to become a whale amongst whales. South Korea truly went from a colony of Imperial Japan to the 10th largest economy in the world in a generation—a staggeringly impressive achievement. The process was anything but smooth as Pardo charts the successive republics from first to the sixth—from Syngman Rhee authoritarianism through to military rule—and the halting fits and starts at true democracy.
It is striking to reflect on the domestic repression and violence South Korea experienced in its evolution, especially given the marked stability it demonstrates now. Successive governments imprisoned dissidents, quashed protest movements, and used the tools of the state to perpetuate their own power. In 1961, the government created the Korean Central Intelligence Agency with a remit to suppress political opposition and communist movements—a tool that became a virtually unchecked tool of repression. In just one example, in 1980 in the city of Gwangju, the armed forces of South Korea killed an estimated 200 students from Chonnam National University protesting the imposition of martial law.
The political evolution of South Korea appears in Pardo’s telling far less smooth than that of its economic maturation. There appeared to be greater consensus on what was needed to bring South Korea’s economy—the prospects for which were deemed no better than sub-Saharan Africa—into the modern era. Five-year plans, economic management, market protections, and close coordination with family-run and dominated chaebols worked hand-in-hand to guide the country’s economic maturation. This was not a linear process and the country needed IMF assistance in the wake of the 1997 Asian currency crisis—a humiliating development. The efforts to manage the economy encountered the challenges of globalization, requiring the government to relinquish much of the control it once wielded and allowing market forces greater influence—for good and for ill.
Along the way he explores how South Korean society itself changed in turn, shifting from a very patriarchal Confucian society to one more open and inclusive for women and minorities (though very much still a work in progress). The story of South Korea’s rise is as much the story of its pursuit of its own identity—not as a colony, not as an American colony by proxy, not as “Korean,” but as South Korean in and of itself.
It is by no means a perfect society and it is one that struggles with systemic issues, but the evolution is nonetheless interesting to read. While laws have changed to allow women greater rights and opportunities, it remains an uphill battle to change broader societal and generational attitudes. The country enjoys near universal educational access, but the drive for academic success and the pressure of passing the college entrance exams leads to extremely high levels of stress—far more than the average Western student would recognize. The government’s close relationship with the chaebols is detailed by Pardo, as is the resulting corruption and associated investigations. Its brevity masks, however, the complexity and insidiousness of the relationship.
The relationship with North Korea is explored, but quickly fades to the background. This, perhaps, is not surprising as South Korea is now more defined by its own position rather than its relationship with the North. Indeed, when I visited Seoul, I asked my counterparts about their thoughts or concerns about Pyongyang. They often replied with a shrug of the shoulders—they were not any more or any less concerned at that moment of increased tensions than they were before. They had lived with it for decades and would continue to live with it going forward—their day-to-day lives had far more pressing issues. One suspects North Korea is the equivalent of a regional appendix—a vestigial organ of the Cold War that does not serve much of a purpose—but if it goes bad, it could well kill millions of people.
“Shrimp to Whale” is an enthusiastic and breezy book that trumpets the success of South Korea. In its enthusiasm it may not play up the downsides as much as others would like, but it is not meant to be the definitive book on South Korean history or its political and economic rise. It surveys the country’s complex and fascinating story, and its rise from the bottom to where it is today—a powerhouse economy, an anchor of regional stability, and a partner on whom the United States will undoubtedly rely even more on in the future.
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Shrimp Games/Whale Games
Seoul, South Korea. Photo by Dave Weatherall via Unsplash.
September 10, 2022
Today, it is hard to consider South Korea anything but a global powerhouse, yet this was not always the case. In his latest book review, Joshua Huminski examines Ramon Pacheco Pardo’s “Shrimp to Whale,” which explores the two millennia rise of South Korea.
T
he mark of real cultural influence is not how much or how often it is noticed, but how normal it feels. Today, South Korea’s global reach is so ubiquitous and felt in so many domains, that it is hard to put a pin in the calendar and say “ah, yes, that’s the date that Seoul went global” or, for that matter, to notice its creeping appearance.
Yet, my Netflix queue is nearly all South Korean dramas of one form or another—yes, I did binge “Squid Games,” but I am quite partial to “Money Heist: Korea—Joint Economic Area,” “All of Us Are Dead,” and “Hellbound.” The odd K-Pop song is on my Spotify playlist and I eagerly look forward to periodic Korean BBQ dinners. And that’s just me. More broadly, E-sports—something Korea defined as a sport worth watching has gone global—BTS—the world’s most popular group—visited the White House, and “Parasite” became the first foreign-language film to win the Oscar for Best Picture. This is to say nothing of its globally recognized brands in semiconductors, shipping, automotive manufacturing, or defense—among others.
Today, it is hard to consider South Korea anything but a global powerhouse. Yet, this was not always the case and the journey was far less linear or smooth than today’s status would suggest. Ramon Pacheco Pardo explores the two millennia rise of South Korea in his new book “Shrimp to Whale.”
Before the pandemic I was fortunate enough to visit Seoul and was immediately hooked. It is one of the most vibrant and dynamic cities that I have ever visited and one for which I am eagerly looking for an excuse to return to—especially knowing I barely scratched the surface of both the city, let alone the country. Early in the book, Pardo writes how the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) gets far more attention than the South, but the South is the far more interesting of the two. One’s unstable neighbor—especially one with nuclear weapons—draws far more interest and attention than the neighbor who regularly takes out the trash and separates the recycling.
“Shrimp to Whale” is a superb corrective to the not unsurprising imbalance between Pyongyang and Seoul. That Pardo manages to cover South Korea’s history as thoroughly as he does in such a slim package—it is only 222 pages excluding end notes—is impressive. After breezily covering South Korea’s pre-1948 history in the preface, Pardo spends the remainder of the book on the rise of modern South Korea—from the post-Second World War period through to today. It is at its core very much a survey of South Korea’s rise, but a very thorough one. That brevity is, however, at times a shortcoming. In an attempt to cover everything some detail is sacrificed and, as others have noted, the reasons for South Korea’s successes are not explored in depth—one does wish there was a greater exploration of the chaebols—and the future risks to South Korea’s position are left unexplored.
What Pardo does superbly well is follow his thesis from start to finish: how South Korea went from the titular shrimp amongst whales to become a whale amongst whales. South Korea truly went from a colony of Imperial Japan to the 10th largest economy in the world in a generation—a staggeringly impressive achievement. The process was anything but smooth as Pardo charts the successive republics from first to the sixth—from Syngman Rhee authoritarianism through to military rule—and the halting fits and starts at true democracy.
It is striking to reflect on the domestic repression and violence South Korea experienced in its evolution, especially given the marked stability it demonstrates now. Successive governments imprisoned dissidents, quashed protest movements, and used the tools of the state to perpetuate their own power. In 1961, the government created the Korean Central Intelligence Agency with a remit to suppress political opposition and communist movements—a tool that became a virtually unchecked tool of repression. In just one example, in 1980 in the city of Gwangju, the armed forces of South Korea killed an estimated 200 students from Chonnam National University protesting the imposition of martial law.
The political evolution of South Korea appears in Pardo’s telling far less smooth than that of its economic maturation. There appeared to be greater consensus on what was needed to bring South Korea’s economy—the prospects for which were deemed no better than sub-Saharan Africa—into the modern era. Five-year plans, economic management, market protections, and close coordination with family-run and dominated chaebols worked hand-in-hand to guide the country’s economic maturation. This was not a linear process and the country needed IMF assistance in the wake of the 1997 Asian currency crisis—a humiliating development. The efforts to manage the economy encountered the challenges of globalization, requiring the government to relinquish much of the control it once wielded and allowing market forces greater influence—for good and for ill.
Along the way he explores how South Korean society itself changed in turn, shifting from a very patriarchal Confucian society to one more open and inclusive for women and minorities (though very much still a work in progress). The story of South Korea’s rise is as much the story of its pursuit of its own identity—not as a colony, not as an American colony by proxy, not as “Korean,” but as South Korean in and of itself.
It is by no means a perfect society and it is one that struggles with systemic issues, but the evolution is nonetheless interesting to read. While laws have changed to allow women greater rights and opportunities, it remains an uphill battle to change broader societal and generational attitudes. The country enjoys near universal educational access, but the drive for academic success and the pressure of passing the college entrance exams leads to extremely high levels of stress—far more than the average Western student would recognize. The government’s close relationship with the chaebols is detailed by Pardo, as is the resulting corruption and associated investigations. Its brevity masks, however, the complexity and insidiousness of the relationship.
The relationship with North Korea is explored, but quickly fades to the background. This, perhaps, is not surprising as South Korea is now more defined by its own position rather than its relationship with the North. Indeed, when I visited Seoul, I asked my counterparts about their thoughts or concerns about Pyongyang. They often replied with a shrug of the shoulders—they were not any more or any less concerned at that moment of increased tensions than they were before. They had lived with it for decades and would continue to live with it going forward—their day-to-day lives had far more pressing issues. One suspects North Korea is the equivalent of a regional appendix—a vestigial organ of the Cold War that does not serve much of a purpose—but if it goes bad, it could well kill millions of people.
“Shrimp to Whale” is an enthusiastic and breezy book that trumpets the success of South Korea. In its enthusiasm it may not play up the downsides as much as others would like, but it is not meant to be the definitive book on South Korean history or its political and economic rise. It surveys the country’s complex and fascinating story, and its rise from the bottom to where it is today—a powerhouse economy, an anchor of regional stability, and a partner on whom the United States will undoubtedly rely even more on in the future.
