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October 13, 2021 - Image 8

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7-Opinion

T

o any Korean, the word
“nunchi”
rings
familiar

bells. Its literal translation

in English is “eye-measure” and
can be likened to reading the room,
but more specifically to gauging the
sentiments and interests of another
and then acting in accordance with
Korean manners and customs.

So, for example, a friend that

heads out to the car to turn on the
AC in the heat of the summer before
others get in has “quick nunchi”
because that person’s senses and
intuition are ahead of the situation.
For the youngest person seated at a
dining table, nunchi is second nature
because they wait respectfully until
the elders begin to eat first. When
my mom returns home at 8 a.m. from
the gym, ready to take over the world
and knock down anyone in her path,
my nunchi urges me to get out of bed,
open up the windows and match her
energy before she throws me a dirty
look. Admittedly, I heard the word
used most often growing up when
my mom reprimanded me for having
“no nunchi.”

There is a Korean adage, “half of

social life is nunchi,” and thus nunchi
is instilled in children from a young age.
But as a Korean growing up in America,
I became bitter at my culture’s high
esteem for nunchi. I called for family
meetings where I demanded that we
instead learn from the latter of my Asian
American identity and value clear
communication and conversation. To
ask directly, “How are you today?”
“How are you feeling?” “Is something
wrong?” rather than chastise one
another for not being a mind-reading
telepathist. I was burdened by the
miscommunication that arose from the
emphasis on reading the room, and my
mind felt tortured, always calculating
whether I had missed a nuance from
someone’s ambiguous glance.

It turned out that I had missed

the nuances of nunchi. The Korean
drama series “Reply 1988” is set in
South Korea in its progression into a

socially, culturally and economically
flourishing state. As I watched the
beautiful, hilarious, heartwarming
and tear-jerking story of five families
sharing struggles, laughter, cries,
intimate moments, kinship and
love in a small alley in Seoul, my
poor appetite for nunchi changed
as I refined my palate to the deeper
undertones behind the art.

I often found myself in tears

as nunchi wove tighter threads in
relationships: One late night, when
Lee Il-hwa falters and fails to muster
her strength and ask her wealthier
friend Mi-ran for support to pay her
daughter’s school fees, she heads
back home with tears in her eyes
and her head hung in shame in her
inability to support her daughter.
Later that night, Mi-ran hands Il-hwa
an unassuming bowl of corn; to her
surprise, underneath it is an envelope
containing money and a kind letter. In
another episode, I watched the quiet
and distant son of Ra Mi-ran sense
his mother’s witty and charming
persona disappear into the darkness
of menopause despite his mother
assuring him that nothing was wrong.
In a gesture beyond his comfort, he
plans a surprise wedding anniversary
in the neighborhood for his parents,
rekindling his mother’s spirit.

Nunchi tugs on your heartstrings

in ways direct communication and
blatant requests cannot. Nunchi is
the serendipitous act of kindness that
depends on another’s quick senses,
building kinship between families
and communities.

Euny Hong, Korean American

journalist and author, writes that
nunchi is more than quaint Korean
customs in “The Power of Nunchi:
The Korean Secret to Happiness
and Success.” Nunchi is the secret
behind Korea’s progression from one
of the world’s poorest to now one of
the richest and most technologically
advanced nations. It fosters trust and
connection in a way that opens doors
in all areas of life — also explaining
the unlikely modern rise of K-pop to
the global stage.

The world of “Reply 1988” is an

antithesis of American culture and

values. In America, the individual
comes before all else — even
sometimes to a fault. We hear it
today in the riotous cacophonies of
anti-mask protests that fight for the
individual’s choice to wear a mask
and in anti-vaxxers’ dismissals of
collective safety and well-being.

In the vast regions, cultures

and backgrounds that constitute
America, we have difficulty relating
to and understanding people who
seem to share different beliefs and
values from ourselves, and cynicism
about their intentions often stops us
from trying. The recent devastation
on women’s rights by Texas’ abortion
law, in which other people forced
decisions
on
women’s
bodies,

exemplifies this.

But John Locke, one of the greatest

advocates for individual rights and
freedom, still affirmed that the
equality of man demands obligation
to mutual love and duties among
men. In the “Second Treatise of Civil
Government,” Locke quotes political
theorist Richard Hooker: “It is no
less their duty, to love others than
themselves … If I cannot but wish
to receive good … how should I look
to have any part of my desire herein
satisfied, unless myself by careful
to satisfy the like desire?” This is an
echo of the Golden Rule.

In “Inventing Human Rights,”

Lynn Hunt, UCLA professor of
modern European history, argues
that the concept of natural rights was
born in history through empathy.
As humans began to learn in the
late 1700s that we were all in some
way fundamentally alike, we began
to empathize with one another and
thus expanded natural rights to other
groups of people. Empathy’s fists
knocked down the walls of even the
longest-held prejudices of the time:
In 1791, Jews were granted equal
rights by the French revolutionary
government; in 1792, men without
property were enfranchised; and in
1794, slavery was abolished by the
French government.

T

he “Michigan difference” is
not something that students
from poor backgrounds and

rural communities often get to truly
experience — it seems like students
who yearn for it the most are excluded.
We go to orientation and hear group
leaders and staff laud the University
of Michigan. The University really
likes to promote a familial feeling and
an “everyone belongs here” schtick
to new and prospective students. To
be fair, this is something that a lot of
students experience when they begin
their educational journey here, but I,
unfortunately, was not one of them.

I did not get to have a normal

orientation. As a student from the
rural Upper Peninsula who also went
to an underperforming high school, I
was sentenced to the Summer Bridge
Program. Bridge is a two-and-a-half-
month-long
orientation
program

where students such as myself take
high-intensity classes in a short period
of time. We were given talks about
imposter syndrome and reminded
that we belonged here. Ironically, the
entire experience made it feel like we
did not. While we were in Bridge, there
was a similar program happening on
campus — the Comprehensive Studies
Program. It was much less intensive
and the students got to pick the one
class they wanted to take. So while
most Bridge students were struggling
to get all of their work done by 8 a.m.
the next day, CSP students were
coming back to their residence hall

drunk from a night of partying. This
was my first taste of the divisiveness of
the University.

As freshman year started, I had

a hard time making friends. I was
placed in Mary Markley Residence
Hall, in an all male hall. I was shy,
and very gay, which made it hard
to connect with anyone, even my
roommate.
I
constantly
heard

whispers between my roommate and
the other students in my residence
hall questioning my sexuality and
making
uncomfortable
remarks.

“Do you think he’s gonna try and hit
on you?” or “Has he tried to hit on
you?” are questions I’ve overheard
more than once. This was a very off-
putting experience for a gay student,
especially after being told that college
is more accepting. But, I digress.

When I could not make friends in

my residence hall, I tried clubs. I went
to Festifall, explored the many tables
and talked to a lot of people. I thought
that surely I could find a student
organization where I would fit in. I
applied to seven different clubs ranging
from art, music, business and sports,
only to get rejections from all seven. I
sadly spent my first semester alone.

Along with my loneliness, I

struggled with a fear of missing out,
or FOMO. I saw everyone around
me living the college experience I
desperately wanted, even other gay
kids. I was constantly trying to figure
out what was wrong with me — I was
trying everything they told me to
do. I left my door open, I tried to get
into clubs, yet nothing worked. After
a while, I realized the problem was
most likely my background.

When I have previously made

the argument that poor kids are
treated differently at University,
I always heard the same rebuttal.
People always say “How is someone
going to look at you and know you
are poor?” In reality, they probably
will not be able to. You can argue
that things such as the clothes you
wear, the headphones you use or the
organizations you are a part of can
make you stand out, but that is not
what I am getting at. When I applied
to clubs, I had one thing specifically
that kept getting me rejected: my
lack of a resumé. Other kids were
coming in from wealthy suburbs and
excellent school districts — how was
I supposed to compete? Some of these
kids had all the opportunities they
could want in life, while I was trying
to survive with what I had. It felt like
I was always going to be labeled as
the poor kid from the UP that barely
got into the University, rather than
a valued student who has overcome
adversity to make it here.

As much as I wanted to fit in and

believe that I was meant to be here, it
was hard to do so when I felt judgment
from my peers at every turn. Whether
it was because I was gay, or because I
was poor, I have never been able to
feel like I belong. A lot of people have
asked why I did not look for support
groups or clubs specifically for first-
generation college students. I already
felt like an outsider, and to me and
many other first-generation college
students, we just want to fit in. We
want to try to move away from and
grow from our past, not have to keep
living in it.

W

hen Joe Biden was
running
to
unseat

former President Donald

Trump, one of the main talking points
during the race was that electing
the former Vice President would
return the United States to a level of
democratic norms we had lost during
the Trump Administration. Indeed,
much of that has come to fruition —
our current president has yet to incite
an insurrection over false claims of
voter fraud, for example. However,
Biden has failed to adequately mend
one of the most damaged parts of our
democracy: a frequent, cordial and
informative level of interaction with
the free press.

He is certainly an improvement

from our previous administration.
Outside of a few minor incidents, the
notorious spat with CNN reporter
Kaitlan Collins in June being one of
them, Biden has afforded the press
a level of civility that Americans
were more or less used to before the
Trump presidency. There has been
no lambasting of the press as the
“enemy of the people.” But being a
nice guy, and giving the press corps
the occasional presidential cookie,
doesn’t mean Biden has handled the
press well. My problem with Biden
isn’t his civility toward the press, it’s
his availability. Biden is averaging the
fewest press conferences per month
since Ronald Reagan. He constantly
claims that he “isn’t allowed” to
take off the cuff questions from the
press. He does almost no sit-down
interviews, and if there’s one thing for
sure, you better not try to overcome

his press wranglers.

Biden’s wariness of the press isn’t

just a partisan talking point — it’s
a real issue. Sure, Republicans are
overzealous in their baseless claims
that Biden “has implied that handlers
set the rules and determine when and
where he’s allowed to take questions,”
and the idea that he lacks the mental
acuity to interact with the press was
never founded on any sound footing.
But, one could very well argue the
current president does not appear to
feel it’s a priority to answer questions
from the press. The press corps
represents the American people, and
the American people deserve to hear
from the leader of the free world in a
non-scripted format.

This
September,
Biden’s

apprehensive
media
tendencies

were exposed in a painfully obvious
way. Prime Minister Boris Johnson
was visiting the White House for a
meeting in the Oval Office when the
two had a brief appearance together
in front of the media. After brief
remarks, Johnson invited his fellow
British reporters to ask questions.
They did, and he promptly answered.
One would expect Biden would
reciprocate the offer to the American
press, especially given the location,
but this offer never came. He didn’t
open the floor to American reporters,
and his wranglers yelled so loudly
that the one question he appeared to
answer was indistinguishable. It was
frustrating to see, and it made Biden
look timid at an important moment.

The White House press corps

formally issued a complaint to the
White House about the matter.
When a press corps feels so deprived
of
meaningful
communication

opportunities that they are filing

complaints, it is doubtful that Biden
has restored our presidential press
relationship to an adequate level. This
isn’t something that should be pushed
aside. If those who are doing the
questioning think it’s a real problem,
it can no longer be cast aside simply as
a partisan attack.

I’ve long felt empathy for Biden

with his communication abilities,
especially given his history with
stuttering. But all the crises his
administration has gone through
in the last few months, most of
which he has been unwilling to
answer tough questions about, are
deeply concerning and bode poorly
for the state of transparency in his
administration.

This
behavior
is
mystifying

politically,
democratically
and

morally. One of the biggest attacks
on his campaign, and now his
presidency, has been that he doesn’t
want to face the music. At this rate, he
may prove that to be true. Republican
talking heads couldn’t ask for him
to fall in line any better. Perhaps it is
time to ask ourselves if much of what
Republicans are saying about Biden’s
press interactions are less so a set
of disingenuous talking points, and
more of an unfortunate reality.

I find Biden to be a strong speaker,

and he has even been lauded in the
past by right-wing networks for
numerous speeches he gave as a
candidate and as president. With
policing talks breaking down, the
deadline for raising the debt ceiling
fast approaching and the Democratic
Party infighting reaching a breaking
point, the nation desperately needs
its leader to raise his voice, and not
just to the level he feels convenient or
comfortable.

Opinion

BRITTANY BOWMAN

Managing Editor

Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building

420 Maynard St.

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

CLAIRE HAO

Editor in Chief

ELIZABETH COOK
AND JOEL WEINER

Editorial Page Editors

Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of The Daily’s Editorial Board.

All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

Julian Barnard
Zack Blumberg

Brittany Bowman

Elizabeth Cook
Brandon Cowit

Jess D’Agostino
Andrew Gerace
Shubhum Giroti

Krystal Hur

Jessie Mitchell

Gabrijela Skoko

Evan Stern
Elayna Swift

Jack Tumpowsky

Joel Weiner

C

anada recently had elections!
An odd idiosyncrasy of the
Canadian political system is

that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau
(through the governor general) has the
power to call elections whenever he
sees fit. Trudeau called the elections
in August, with an election day set for
Sept. 20, in the hopes of securing a
stable majority in Parliament to pass
some of his more ambitious COVID-19
recovery packages.

Before the election, Trudeau was

the head of a minority government, in
which the largest party in Parliament
is the governing party unless a
coalition rises to supplant them.
Opinion polling indicated that it was
likely he would be able to obtain that
majority in Parliament, so he called
the snap election. In the end, after
a drop off in polling for Trudeau’s
party, the Liberal Party and a surge
for the rival Conservative Party
(Tories), the election ended with
disappointment for most parties
involved, as none of the major parties
saw significant shifts. Even though
we saw no dramatic wins or losses,
there are still teachable moments
for American political observers, as
Canadian voters prioritized the same
issues as American voters this cycle:
COVID-19 and the economy.

If you are unfamiliar with

Canadian politics or parliamentary
systems, just imagine that by virtue
of being the boss of the largest
party in Congress, House Speaker
Nancy Pelosi became the head of
government. The main parties in
Canada that you have to know about
are the ruling centre-left Liberal
Party headed by incumbent Prime
Minister Justin Trudeau, the center-
right Conservatives headed by Erin
O’Toole and the social-democratic
New Democratic Party (NDP) headed

by Jagmeet Singh — the first person of
color to head a major Canadian party.
Also in the mix, while not winning
any seats this cycle, is the right-wing
anti-coronavirus lockdown People’s
Party of Canada (PPC). Other minor
parties are the environmentalist
Greens and the Quebec Separatist
Bloc Quebecois, but these two are
much less analogous to American
parties and institutions.

The first lesson from this election

is that there is an upper limit on
energizing the youth. Jagmeet Singh
of the New Democrats ran a youth-
centered campaign. Singh, a turbaned
Sikh with a west coast surfer accent
and a hipster vibe, prioritized issues
young people are supposedly in
support of, such as taking decisive
climate action. He was a constant
presence on TikTok, and he even
played Among Us on a stream with
his American counterpart, U.S. Rep.
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y.
All that to only gain one seat in
Parliament. It makes sense to at least
partially center youth issues into the
fun social democratic party, given
that young people tend to be the
most amenable to social democratic
policies and Singh’s aesthetic. But the
NDP did not do as well as they hoped,
gaining only one seat to increase their
total to 25 members of a 338-member
Parliament. That is not to mention that
even though they were successful at
winning a plurality of voters in the
18-35 range, they only beat out the
Liberals by a few percentage points.

It wasn’t even that Singh did a bad

job. According to recent polling, even
after the loss, 82% of NDP voters want
Singh to stay on as leader. Singh often
polled as the most popular of the
federal party leaders, but artificially
limiting a movement to youth
aesthetics is not a recipe for success.
We know that the NDP can have
electoral success because not even
three elections ago, in 2011, they had
more seats than the currently-ruling

Liberals under leader Jack Layton.
So we know the problem is not that
Canadians detest left-wing policy.
There are only a limited number of
young people with a propensity for
voting, and parties (or progressive
wings of American parties) hoping
to effect national change should not
limit their policies or aesthetics to
the young. Focusing on a group as
uniformly distributed across the
country as young people does not lend
itself to electoral success. Focusing on
turnout above all else, which is the
trap many left of center organizations
can fall into, has limited effectiveness
as you scale this strategy up and out of
the most progressive districts because
even if you energize the youth into
voting, there is no guarantee that they
will vote for you.

The
second
message
is
for

American
conservatives.
Parties

without a shared narrative or a
shared voice will inevitably fail. The
Conservative Party’s leader. Erin
O’Toole, an unassuming former
member of the Canadian armed
forces, adopted a strategy of extreme
moderation for the conservatives.
Pro-carbon tax, pro-choice and pro-
banning certain models of firearms,
O’Toole did everything he could to
seize on the center of the Canadian
electorate. The fact that these are not
traditional issues championed by the
Tories did not go unnoticed by voters.
Moderation will be seen as pandering
when the Conservatives are perceived
to have abandoned many of their
signature issues in hope of securing
the keys to the Prime Minister’s office.

This gamble failed, as you may

be able to tell from my tone in
the last paragraph, and caused a
surge in parties to O’Toole’s right.
Meandering down the middle of
the road ultimately proved to be an
ineffective way for the Conservatives
to pick up stray votes.

Two lessons about American politics

from the Canadian election

What do you say, Joe?

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
8 — Wednesday, October 13, 2021

America, let’s learn from Korea’s “nunchi”

LILY KWAK

Opinion Columnist

DEVON HESANO
Opinion Columnist

Being gay and poor at the University of

Michigan is an isolating position to occupy

JULIAN BARNARD
Opinion Senior Editor

JACOB FENLON
Opinion Columnist

MADELINE HINKLEY/Daily

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

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