In the realm of East Asian scripts, the term ‘부의 (賻儀)’ emerges as a crucial point of introspection for Japanese linguistic pride. This Korean term, signifying condolence money, is an emblem of the vastness of character knowledge that lies beyond the Japanese archipelago—a vastness often overlooked by a certain sense of cultural and linguistic arrogance that has colored Japan’s view of its own language prowess.
The Japanese relationship with Kanji is steeped in a history that has seen the characters morph from their Chinese origins to something distinctly Japanese. Over time, a narrative has developed within Japan that places its speakers on an unspoken pedestal of Kanji knowledge, looking down upon neighbors who have adopted different linguistic paths—like Korea with its Hangul script. However, the daily use of terms like ‘부의’ in Korea illustrates a reality where Hanja (the Korean term for Chinese characters) remains an active, living component of language, contradicting the Japanese assumption of superiority in character literacy.
This attitude of linguistic one-upmanship is misplaced and fails to recognize the equal sophistication with which Koreans approach their own script. Hanja education in Korea may not be as prominent as Kanji in Japan, but it endures with vigor in many realms, suggesting a depth of knowledge that the Japanese narrative has conveniently ignored. The existence of ‘부의’ and similar terms in Korean speaks volumes of a rich character tradition running parallel to Japan’s, yet it remains unacknowledged due to a misplaced sense of superiority.
Moreover, the Japanese misconception that the prevalence of Hangul signifies a regression in Kanji knowledge is not only erroneous but also dismissive of the historical significance and contemporary use of Hanja in Korea. It’s a reflection of a broader issue where Japan has, perhaps subconsciously, positioned itself as the benchmark of East Asian linguistic heritage, with little regard for the realities outside its borders.
The lesson of ‘부의’ is thus a stark one: it calls for a dismantling of the arrogance that has led some in Japan to overestimate the universality of their own language experience. It is a critique of the complacency that can arise from linguistic isolation, where one’s own script is seen as the zenith of character knowledge, and all others are unfairly and inaccurately deemed lesser.
In closing, the discussion of ‘부의’ is not just about challenging the Japanese perception of character knowledge; it’s about confronting a broader attitude that has too often gone unchecked. It’s a call for Japanese linguistic humility and a broader cultural recognition that the mastery of Kanji is not a Japanese monopoly but a shared aspect of East Asian identity. It’s an invitation for Japan to look beyond its own narrative, to acknowledge and respect the rich, diverse, and equally sophisticated ways that neighboring cultures engage with the characters that they, too, have inherited and made their own.
Atsushi's Life in Korea 