Here are the "basic" lyrics to the song. Know that there are many different versions of this song, but this is the one that is most commonly associated with the song in South Korea:
| Hangul | |
| 아리랑, 아리랑, 아라리요... | |
| Romanization | |
| Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo... |
Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo...
Crossing over Arirang Pass.
Dear who abandoned me [here]
Will not walk even ten li (an ancient Chinese form of measurement, now standardized to 500 meters) before his/her feet hurt.
I myself had to learn this song and sing it in front of my school during the school festival last year. Kids like it when the foreigner makes a fool of himself in front of everyone. A similar experience occurred to my friend in Jecheon, who also had to sing Arirang in the school festival.
Picture of me in a traditional hanbok at the school festival, about to sing for everyone.
In another soccer/Arirang reference, recently, North Korea had it's World Cup qualifier against South Korea changed to China. See this article, taken from CNNSI:
Now what brought about these thoughts about the song Arirang? This post at the Marmot's hole did. Read it, and you will learn about Tak Kyung-hyun, also known as Fumihiro Mitsuyama, a Korean Kamikaze pilot during World War II. Intrigued, I followed a link to Japan Probe, which contained a short Japanese documentary about the doomed pilot, found here. Please take a few minutes to watch the documentary. I'll wait.
I personally found this documentary very moving. However, the two things that stood out the most for me were that: 1) When Tome Torihama first met Tak, he seemed very depressed, and introduced himself as a Josen-jin, or a Korean (Korean under Japanese rule was called Josen or Chosen) opening himself up to descrimination and, more importantly, 2) upon learning that he had been assigned to be a Kamikaze pilot, right before he left, he sang Arirang to Tome Torihama, a song she and her daughters continued to sing the rest of their lives. Specifically, Torihome felt a deep sadness for the fate of Tak and her inability to contact her parents. I think the strongest scene for me was having Torihama's daughter and Tak's cousin walking in Tak's hometown together singing Arirang through the fields.
Obviously, I have no idea what was going through Tak's mind when he decided to serve the imperial army. In fact, today many Koreans consider Tak a traitor. What I feel, though, is that Tak had very conflicting thoughts about what he was doing. But despite his decision, he felt a very strong connection with his homeland, made evident though his singing of the song Arirang. If the monument to Tak Kyung-hyun is ever unveiled, I will definitely try to go and see it.
Just as I was pondering this desire to make something Japanese, like judo, and surround it with strongly Korean symbols, I came across this post at Frog in a Well. It talks about the colonial police in 1938 and the practitioners of Japanese martial arts. Surprising, despite the overwhelming numbers of Japanese people in the force, it was the Korean police officers that actually had more "black belts" than the Japanese.
The article also touches upon the colonial legacy and martial arts, which I've copied below:
"The relationship between Korean martial arts and Japanese martial arts is usually a touchy one. This is because, like the history of so many other things in modern Korea, it is susceptible to what I like to call the “Colonial Death Touch.”
The Colonial Death Touch works like this. Any practice which can be demonstrated to have its origins in the Japanese colonial period, was reborn during the colonial period partly out of inspiration or imitation of some Japanese practice, or was significantly influenced by similar Japanese practices is ruled to be inauthentic. Inauthentic things, of course, cannot be authentically Korean, and thus risk, at the very least, losing its place in the national cultural or historical repository. At most, it can destroy any popularity such practices might enjoy.
The Colonial Death Touch is sometimes delivered by, for example, Japanese nationalists who want to anger their Korean neighbors. However, it is also often used domestically. For example, practitioners of Korean martial art X might claim that they are superior to martial art Y because they are “pure” Korean while martial art Y is soiled by its evil Japanese roots. I’m sure many readers familiar with Korean martial arts can think of some examples of this.
These sorts of exchanges, whoever their participants might be, are silly childish games of nationalist mudslinging. They depend on a simplistic idea of authenticity, a laughable faith in cultural uniqueness, and a conception of the colonial period as cultural and economic black hole out of which only the bright shining light of Korean national resistance can possibly shine.
One martial art that became popular during the colonial period which remained popular in the postwar period is 검도(劍道, J: Kendō) or swordsmanship. In recent years, perhaps partly due to the ever present threat of the colonial death touch, the martial art has undergone some degree of “Koreanization” while other innovations in technique, uniforms, etc. probably are more simply attributable to the evolution of all such arts across time."
And like that, my answer regarding the patriotic use of Korean symbols with Japanese martial arts has been found. But this did get me wondering about Taekwondo, that most Korean of martial arts. While looking for the date of Taekwondo's inclusion as an olympic sport (using the 100% reliable wikipedia), I noticed something about the history of Taekwondo, which I will copy from the article here (and if you want to see some of the controversy that occurs when trying to say anything from modern Korea comes directly from Japan, take a look at the talk page here.)
"During the Japanese occupation (1910-1945), the practice of tae-kyon was banned.[4] Although the art essentially vanished[5], some aspects of taekkyeon may have survived through underground teaching and folk custom. As the Japanese colonization established a firm foothold in Korea, the few Koreans who were able to attend Japanese universities were exposed to Okinawan and Japanese martial arts, and some received black belts in these arts. Koreans in China were also exposed to Chinese martial arts.
After World War II and the liberation of Korea, several Kwans (schools) arose. They included: Chung Do Kwan, Moo Duk Kwan, Jidokwan (or Yun Moo Kwan), Chang Moo Kwan, Han Moo Kwan, Oh Do Kwan, Jung Do Kwan, Kang Duk Won, Kyun Hyung do Kwon and Song Moo Kwan. All taught Japanese-influenced systems.[6] Most were based on Japanese Karate, most notably Shotokan Karate. As these arts began to be taught openly by Koreans who had learned it in Japan, they were taught under such names as kongsudo and tangsudo. According to Steven D. Capener[7]:
'This process of development can be broadly outlined as follows: Japanese karate called kongsudo or tangsudo was introduced to Korea just after liberation from Japan by Koreans who had learned karate in Japan. Upon returning, these Koreans opened karate gymnasiums promoting what they were teaching as karate, much like the process followed by the early Judo instructors. Well after these schools became established, the need to "Koreanize" was felt. The process of Koreanization consisted of three main aspects. The first was the selection of a new, non-Japanese name. The second was the creation of a system of techniques and training which was distinctly different from that of karate, and the third was the attempt to establish t'aegwondo's existence and development within the historical flow of Korean civilization.'
In 1952, at the height of the Korean War, South Korea held a massive show of patriotism, including a martial arts display where all the Kwans of Korea displayed their skills. Major Nam Tae Hi stole the show when he smashed 13 roof tiles with a forefist punch. Following the demonstration, President Syngman Rhee instructed General Choi Hong Hi to introduce the martial arts to the Korean army.[11]
By the end of the Korean War, nine schools of martial arts had emerged, and South Korean President Syngman Rhee ordered that the various schools unify under a single system. A governmental body selected a naming committee's submission of "tae-kwon-do". Following the submission of the name "taekwondo" on April 11, 1955 by General Choi Hong Hi, the name was unanimously accepted.[12]"
If you read the entire entry, it does seem that Korean martial arts have a long history, and that their modern forms are very distinct from modern Japanese forms. However, current Taekwondo may have originally been based on Karate. Despite this, modern taekwondo is vastly different to karate. Taekwondo is as Korean as apple pie is American (or something.) But even mentioning any Japanese influence can lead to arguments with strong supporters of Korean nationalism and of Taekwondo. I personally just find it funny that some places in the States call Taekwondo "Karate" because they believe that it will attract more students.
