In many parts of the world, particularly in countries formerly colonised by the British, there is a noticeable enthusiasm for the English language. Often you see a class-divide in such societies, where the English-speaking faction is considered as the elite. Whether this divide exists purely on linguistic basis — that remains debatable. However, one cannot deny the fact that it has become a worldwide phenomenon, often obsession, especially with the advent of globalisation. I, sitting in the Himalayas and conversing with you in English, am no exception either.
A rather curious case is that of South Korea, which was not under the British occupation, but Japanese. Moreover, its modern culture is shot through with a hearty dose of national pride and, by extension, pride in the native tongue. Despite all of that, one of the first things a visitor to South Korea will notice is this country’s obsession with the study of English. The language is taught all the way through a child’s school years, sometimes starting with specialised English kindergartens and continuing with private after-school institutes known as hakwons, which, if run well, can make their owners rich. Parents will stop at almost nothing to ensure their children can speak English. Even in adulthood, many people continue to work on improving their fluency. English ability is a ticket to better employment opportunities as well as a badge of pride.
How far this obsession can go
As reported in the New York Times, there are doctors in South Korea who offer special tongue surgery. The expectation is that the surgery will lead to better English pronunciation. The operation is called lingual frenectomy and involves cutting through the part of the tongue connected to the bottom of the mouth to free the tongue up more. Though millions of Western-born ethnic Koreans speak English perfectly well without the need for such a bizarre procedure, some parents are apparently so driven that they insist on having it performed on their children.
This example is of course extreme, but that the surgery exists at all is telling. For most people, the way to master English is through endless hours, days, months, and years of study. Throughout the land, parents believe that their children cannot succeed in life without English fluency, and thus, even before being able speak their own language properly, many kindergarten-age kids will be sent to English nurseries, where they will be taught in the foreign tongue all morning, every morning.
Since Korean culture places a premium on success, poor performance is unacceptable. Parents will spare no amount of effort or expense to ensure that their child’s future university or job applications will never be relegated to the bottom of the pile because of a low score in English. But when everyone is desperately seeking to achieve the highest percentile, the result for the majority has to be disappointment. Even those who do well have been convinced by a society that only accepts one hundred percent that they need to do better. The expression “I’m sorry my English is so poor” is one of the most commonly used English phrases in South Korea—and is usually not accurate.
Hinglish, Konglish and more…
India, as we know, has the second largest English-speaking population in the world. English fluency is socially prestigious and important for job success and upward mobility. This, combined with the country’s love for its own culture, has given rise to Hinglish. What is that, you might want to ask? The language Hinglish involves a hybrid mixing of Hindi and English within conversations, individual sentences and even words. An example: “She was bhunno-ing the masala-s_ jub_ phone ki ghuntee bujee.” Translation: “She was frying the spices when the phone rang”. It is gaining popularity as a way of speaking that demonstrates you are modern, yet locally grounded.
A similar phenomenon has emerged in South Korea, where Konglish has emerged. An abundance of loanwords and English-like words have entered the Korean language because of South Korea’s English obsession. Konglish, in other words. Konglish echoes the kind of semi-English vocabulary that developed in Japan (where people say “pasocon” for “personal computer”), and many examples of it are cute or amusing. For example, In South Korea, a “mama-boi” (mama’s boy or mummy’s boy) who spots another child cheating on a test may tell him to stop “cunning.” Cunning here is used as a verb. “Window shopping” is known as “eye shopping; “touchy-feely” people are described as having a lot of “skinship”; and a woman with a large bosom may be considered “glamour style”.
There are literally thousands of foreign, mostly English, loanwords circulating
in South Korea. If the two Koreas ever do unify, North Koreans will no doubt be
mystified by how their mutual language has changed and is now spoken in the South. North Koreans have steadfastly maintained their original vocabulary. For instance, son-gicheok means “hand indication” and can be used to make a sound on a door before one enters the room. South Koreans simply call this a “knock”.
Reference Books:
Kalampedia 