Cultural amnesia or continuity?

Expressions of han in K-pop

East Asian Journal of Popular Culture EAJPC 6.1. (1 April 2020), pp. 111-123 (preprint)

https://doi.org/10.1386/eapc_00018_7

Björn Boman, Stockholm University

https://orcid.org/ 0000-0001-7529-6713

ABSTRACT
K-pop content is generally associated with romantic love, immaturity, synchronized
dance choreographies, attractive performers and globally fashionable pop music.
However, over the last years more variability in regard to lyrics and music, partly linked
to increased artistic agency among some entertainment companies, has been manifested.
In this article, I have analysed how the cultural concept of han (associated with grief or
resentment among Korean people) is expressed among groups and artists like BTS,
(G)I-dle and Luna/Jambinai. The findings indicate that han in such discourses, while
sometimes implicit rather than explicit, expresses lost love, the transgenerational
understanding of Korean grief, or an appeal to the collective feeling of vulnerability
among global audiences.

KEYWORDS: BTS, (G)I-dle, K-pop, Hallyu, Korean wave, South Korea, Han,
Korea

INTRODUCTION
More than a decade has passed since K-pop and the Korean wave received thorough

academic attention (e.g. Shim 2006). Scholars within disciplines such as media studies,

cultural studies and sociology have analysed K-pop content and the endogenous and

exogenous factors which underlie its local, regional and global appeal (Ho 2012; Lee

2013; Oh 2013; Lie 2014; Jang and Kim 2013), as well the structures and modalities

for the dissemination and reception of K-pop in several locations like Indonesia, Japan,

1
Australia, Canada and Israel (Jung 2011; Jung and Shim 2014; Agin 2013; Lie 2013;

Otmazgin and Lyan 2013).

Due to these efforts, a comprehensive and multi-faceted picture of these

phenomena has emerged. For example, it is well understood that both endogenous

factors, such as the export-oriented Korean market and the synchronized and attractive

K-pop performers (Lee 2012; Jang and Kim 2013), and exogenous global factors such

as digital media (YouTube, iTunes) and fashionable pop genres contribute to the near-

universal appeal of K-pop (Oh 2013; Lie 2014). Even language barriers and insular

western markets (Power and Hallencreutz 2003) have proven to be surmountable in the

case of recent success stories like BTS and BLACKPINK, two groups that

predominantly sing in Korean yet have millions of fans all over the world and surpassed

700 million views on YouTube of their most popular songs (Boman 2019).

Although different content analyses have emphasized different constitutive

elements within K-pop, romantic love, immaturity and physical attractiveness appear

to be common denominators within the majority of songs, lyrics and music videos (Lee

2012; Lie 2013; Lie 2014; Epstein and Joo 2012). While Jang and Kim (2013) stress

the Confucian residues within the present Korean society, especially among the earlier

generations still alive, as a crucial sociocultural factor, Lie (2014) is sceptical about the

very existence of such traits in contemporary South Korea. Koreans who underscore

the significance of Confucianism and folk culture seem to suffer from a misguided

‘cultural amnesia’, he argues:

The recent revalorization of Confucianism in South Korea is actually a
symptom of the unbridgeable distance between the non-Confucian present and
the Confucian past. When Confucianism was a more salient presence, Koreans
waxed eloquent about its desuetude and dysfunctions. […]. Romantic love, one
of the major themes of K-pop songs, is also antithetical to Confucian morality,
and when post-traditional Koreans talk about love, it is in precise contradiction
to the scriptures of the Confucian tradition. In a sense, K-pop songs and dances
2
 recall – if there is anything at all of traditional Korea – the wild gyrations and
bestial wailings of shamanist dance that so exercised the Confucian literati. In
other words, the demise of Confucian culture is one of the preconditions for K-
pop. (69–70)

While such a contention appears to be largely correct – since K-pop hinges on a neo-

liberal logic of export demand, competition (between individuals, companies and

nations), as well as westernized imagery and music which have little to do with anything

specifically ‘Korean’ – certain striking exceptions from these general patterns have

emerged over the last years. Three notable examples that represent an at least partially

opposed tendency are some of the lyrical concepts of the ultra-successful male group

BTS (‘No more dream’, ‘Silver spoon’, ‘Dope’, ‘Not today’), the collaboration between

girl group f(x) lead singer Luna, and the Korean alternative rock band Jambinai

(translated into ‘From the place that was erased’), as well the popular female sextet

(G)I-dle’s song and music video ‘Hann’.

While BTS appears to focus more on social criticism, Luna/Jambinai on

sorrowful music, lyrics and imagery, and (G)-idle on partially melancholic pop with a

title referring manifestly to the historical Korean cultural concept in question, they all

seem to signify different aspects of the very same fundamental principle: han. Though

critically discussed (Kim 2017; Moon 2014), this represents an element generally

understood as being connected to sorrow, grief, rancour and resentment, and which is

supposed to be specific for the Korean people’s historical self-identification. At least

these instances manifest potential links to this cultural trait, why a content analysis is

required to contextualize any significant relation to this notion.

HAN AS A CULTURAL CONCEPT

According to Kim (2017), han has its roots in an essentialist and biologist notion which

– although having longer Sino origins – emerged during the Japanese colonial period
3
in the 1920s, especially within the works of the Japanese writer Muneyoshi Yanagi.

Kim explains its development, ‘[a]s a national phenomenon or specifically Korean

characteristic, han did not exist in ancient Korea but was an idea anachronistically

imposed on Koreans during the Japanese colonial period’ (2017: 258).

As Kim stresses, han does often constitute an essentialist and at least partially

biologist tendency – only people of Korean origin may understand its profound

meaning and distinctive psychological expressions:

Han (한 恨) is an essentialist Korean sociocultural concept that is popularly
understood as a uniquely Korean collective feeling of unresolved resentment,
pain, grief, and anger. Han is often described as running in the blood of all
Koreans, and the quality of Korean sorrow as being different from anything
Westerners have experienced or can understand. (2017: 254)

However, han is not an exclusively negative phenomenon:

Despite the deeply negative and destructive quality of han, it is not a one-
dimensional ‘bad’ affect. It historically has been characterized as also creating
complex beauty. In fact, han not only refers to a consciousness of ongoing
trauma and a lack of resolution, but also the means to its own resolution. Han
has an important place in culture because it has become associated with what
makes Korean cultural productions – such as visual art, folk music, traditional
ceramics, literature, and film, among others – uniquely and beautifully.
(Korean 2017: 256)

Hence, it appears to have an ambiguous character, since it is related to both deep sorrow

and beautiful artistic expressions, as well as a potentially constructive means to handle

collective or individual trauma. As Oh asserts (2010), han is also possible to overcome,

for example when South Korea wins over Japan in soccer.

Within Korean music, Lie emphasizes the historical shift from han-inspired

manifestations to mildness, referring to how ‘the sweetness and light of some Korean

popular music in the 1950s was a world away from the tears of departure and the tacit

expressions of han that marked the popular songs of the colonial period’ (2014: 76).

Kim (2017) notices the links between han and pansori,

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 We see the influence of this particular colonial discourse in the contemporary
characterization of pansori. Pansori, a popular Korean art of musical
storytelling that originated in seventeenth-century Korea, has come to be
considered a ‘national’ art and symbol of a supposed pure Korean essence. It
is frequently referred to as ‘the sound of han’. (2017: 261)

Further, Kim (2017) examines how han has been reinterpreted in the Korean

American diaspora. While han, according to essentialist logic, is supposed to be

connected only to people of Korean descent, there are instances where it is linked to the

mutual subordination which signifies both Korean Americans and African Americans

in a historical context. In relation to music, somewhat far-fetched intercultural

connections between these two groups – with han as a shared cultural characteristic –

have been emphasized by Kim (2014). In contrast, Kim (2017) underlines a more

manifest example of han in the South Korean/Canadian rapper Tablo and African

American rapper Joey Bada$$’s collaboration song ‘Hood’, whose lyrics partly build

on such characteristics. Tablo expresses, ‘[w]here I’m from Han is the name we gave

to struggle and pain […]’ (2017: 272).

Kim’s analysis, related to the insights of Moon (2013), ends with an elaboration

of the term critical han,

Critical han aims to repeatedly emphasize how the term itself is embedded in
a specific history that we should not forget. The word han carries within it a
history of unmitigated collective traumas in Korea, which have created a very
specific social and national imaginary in Korea and Korean diasporas. (Kim
2017: 274)

Thus, critical han is understood as something which transcends both essentialist

and biologist interpretations of han, while still focusing on the particular historical

memories that have shaped Koreans and diasporic people of Korean origin. Han must

also be understood in relation to its specific historical, cultural, social and local

conditions, and as a discursive element (floating signifier), rather than being a

monolithic phenomenon. That is why instances of han may, perhaps somewhat

5
unexpectedly, emerge within contemporary South Korean mainstream music like K-

pop.

METHODOLOGY
There are several ways to approach the contents in live performances and music videos

both more holistically and with focus on particularities, and which constitute what

Norman Fairclough would refer to as semiosis in this regard (2003: 24) – lyrics, settings,

symbols, narratives, fashion styles, musical genres and so on – and that scholars

specialized in multimodal text analysis would refer to specifically as multimodality

(Baldry and Thibault 2006). The meaning of semiosis is similar to that of discourse, a

term with various definitions. Jonathan Potter uses discourse for ‘texts and speech in

use’, ‘in use’ meaning in actual situations where language or other symbol-systems are

used (1996: 15). In discourse analytical theory, a discursive element may be regarded

as nodal points, i.e. privileged signifiers, which are constituted as partially fixed

elements within a discursive field (Laclau and Mouffe 2001: 105–14).

A reading of the material – in this case three music videos (‘No more dream’,

‘Dope’, ‘Not today’) and a dance performance video of BTS (‘Silver spoon’), (G)-idle’s

music video ‘Hann’, and Luna/Jambinai’s live performance ‘From where it was erased’

– centres on basic yet explicative elements such as music, theme and subject, narrative

and mise-en-scène and body language (Lee 2012). In relation to the analysed material,

one may discern if han is to be regarded as a nodal point, and if not, to which degree

indirect or comparative similarities are still relevant elements within each specific

discourse (including the entirety of the material, like lyrics, music, gestures and visual

media). This will also be discussed in relation to other research, as well as broader

sociocultural, historical and economic contexts.

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BTS
BTS (Bangtan Boys), which consists of seven members from South Korea, was formed

in 2013 by Cube Entertainment and has gradually become one of the world’s most

successful music groups in general and K-pop acts in particular. The name Bangtan

boys, literally meaning Bulletproof Boy Scouts, is associated with several songs such

as ‘We’re bulletproof Pt. 2’ and ‘Not today’. One breakthrough song is ‘Fire’ which

was released in 2016, followed by many more successful songs, albums, music videos

and live performances in the following years to come. The most successful song and

music video, ‘DNA’ (2017a), has surpassed 700 million views on YouTube and the

group has made significant success in major local markets such as the United States

and the United Kingdom. Akin to other K-pop groups, BTS blends elements from rap,

R&B, pop, electronic music and other hybrid genres or sub-genres. Lyrically, a variety

of themes and subjects have been treated in the songs, such as love, self-love,

depression and rather fierce criticism of the current state of the South Korean society.

Their debut song and music video ‘No more dream’ (2013a), belongs to the

latter category and shows the rougher side of the group’s multifaceted image. In the

music video, school buses, burning barrels and skateboarding are displayed. Style-wise,

hip hop features like gold-coloured necklaces and skate fashion dominate, whereas the

music is entirely rap-oriented. The song is included on the mini-album ‘2 Cool 4

School’, and the lyrics and the mise-en-scène stress the lack of pursuit of genuine

dreams among younger South Koreans. Everything is about diligent studies and

material possessions, ‘I wanna big house, big cars, and big rings but actually, I don’t

have any big dreams’ (translated from Korean), but even such shallow markers of

higher socio-economic status are generally hard to obtain for most young people

according to this discourse. BTS is very specific about their criticism of the South

Korean model for education and socio-economic success, ‘[s]ick of the same day, the
7
repeating days. Grown-ups and my parents keep instilling confined dreams to me.

Number one future career is a government worker? […] Rebel against this hellish

society’ (translated from Korean).

In ‘Dope’ – which mixes catchy hip hop, R&B and pop – BTS underlines almost

identical lyrical themes and subjects, ‘I worked all night, every day while you were

playing in the club’ (translated from Korean). This video does not relate to any

particular mise-en-scène, although expressing a frisky yet scornful dance choreography

in an office environment which corresponds with the message of the lyrics.

Also, in ‘Silver spoon’ (2016), similar in music as the two other above-

mentioned songs, BTS mocks the notion – among the older generations of South

Koreans – that the current youth is born with a silver spoon. Since the earlier generation

had much more opportunities they were born with a ‘golden spoon’, one may interpret

the overall message. Especially teachers, who lecture their young students, are put in

the line of fire, ‘[t]hey call me a try-hard, our generation has had it hard. Hurry,

chase’em. My teachers were born with it all’ (translated from Korean, although some

of the lyrics are in English). As for gestures, BTS takes the mocking even further with

the integration of silly and ironic dance moves at parts of the dance practice.

While social criticism is explicit in these three songs, it would perhaps be

misguided to associate such subjects and themes with han. There is frustration, sarcasm

and even contempt in the lyrics, but the music does not express any ‘beautiful sorrow’

or references to historical injustices, whether linked to the Japanese colonial period or

American arrogance. However, South Korea has a history of governmental misdeeds,

most notably the Gwangju uprising in 19801 and the Sewol ferry disaster in 2014, 2 and

as such han in the broader sense may be expressed in relation to partially deficient

governance and semi-authoritarian social structures. Moreover, BTS in this context is

similar to Tablo and African American rapper Joey Bada$$’s collaboration song ‘Hood’
8
examined by Kim (2017). A difference, however, is that the anger is directed externally

rather than internally in the current BTS material. Furthermore, BTS does not refer to

han as a manifest element.

Hultberg et al. (2017) have analysed the reasons why South Korean parents have

overinvested in their children’s education. This is partly because parents compete in an

‘arms race’ with other parents: their children must perform maximally to succeed socio-

economically in the contemporary South Korean society, many parents reason.

Furthermore, the consequences of the educational system have been discussed by Oh

(2010) and to some extent Jang and Kim (2013). Oh has emphasized the negative side-

effects from the global educational obsession, which appears to hurt a significant share

of Korean families. In 2007 South Korean parents spent on average USD 220 per month

on private tutoring and the country has the highest private educational spending among

all OECD nations (Oh 2010: 309–10). Other negative outcomes are high private debt,

high youth unemployment (either unemployed or relying on temporary contracts or

low-paid part-time jobs), high housing costs, and low fertility rates (Hultberg et al.

2017). This ‘arms race’ or ‘red queen’s race’, which implies that the highest dream is

to become a global hallyu star (Ho 2012; Jang and Kim 2013) or employee of the

government or one of the large South Korean corporations, affects the lives of young

Koreans and is manifested in the lyrics of songs like ‘No more dream’, ‘Dope’ and

‘Silver spoon’. Ironically, the success of BTS is dependent on the very same hyper-

competitive mechanisms that they tend to criticize in their lyrics, but at least they have

been able to pursue their dreams as rap and pop stars.

‘Not today’ (2017b) partially deviates in regard to theme and subject and seems

to focus more on the collective strength that stems from belonging to a community, and

the significance of never giving up. Compared to the other music videos mentioned

above, the song has a rather distinctive narrative and mise-en-scène and is one of the
9
costliest productions in the group’s history. Part of the setting is in a garage, but the

main setting is located at a mountain where the BTS members and multiple dancers,

the latter dressed almost as black ninjas with covered faces, perform a simple yet

synchronized and captivating dance choreography, after the ascent which mainly takes

place throughout the intro. The music is related to similar genres as in the other songs,

although more energetic and assertive in the chorus. At around 03:50 of the official

music video, several members and the black dancers are being shot but rise not long

after and continue to dance assiduously. This corresponds with the lyrics, ‘Trust me,

who is next to you. Together we won’t die. I trust you, who is next to me. Together we

won’t die. We believe in the word, together we believe that we’re Bangtan…’

Since BTS has reached a huge global following, an ‘army’ of fans as they are

often referred to within the K-pop community, they appeal to a collective feeling of

vulnerability which transcends the Korean population. As Kim underlines,

Han is the word for sorrow in reaction to historical injustice against those who
identify as Korean. Han is an example of how history becomes internalized in
individuals while at the same time creating horizontal connections of empathy
and identification. (2017: 274)

Moreover, Moon stresses:

So it is not the uniqueness of han, particular to the Korean context, that makes
it so difficult to articulate; rather it is the uniqueness of the suffering itself that
gives it its untranslatable quality – no matter what language, ethnicity, culture,
time, or space. Thus, it is forms of literature and art that are able to ‘translate’
or articulate suffering in a way that gives it meaning. The arts become a method
to articulate and express ineffable suffering. (2014: 431)

Congenial with this discourse, only BTS or other Korean artists are capable of

producing han in the narrow sense, but the message can resonate with the individuals

of their global fanbase. Han in relation to music becomes intercultural, much like the

local and global are understood to be merged in relation to K-pop and other popular

cultural phenomena (Oh 2013).

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(G)I-dle
The girl group (G)I-dle, which consists of six members – three from South Korea

(Soyeon, Miyeon and Sooji), and the other three being from China (Yuqi), Taiwan

(Shuhua) and Thailand (Minnie) – was formed in 2018 by Cube Entertainment. The

debut song and music video, ‘Latata’, has reached more than 100 million views on

YouTube, and it received an award for best female debut group at the 2018 Melon

Awards.

The debut song ‘Latata’ is upbeat and positive in its melody and lyrical message.

The sequel, ‘Hann’, is much more woesome and sullen in comparison. Sooyeon Lee,

stresses that most popular K-pop songs and music videos express an immature love:
The love songs narrate a naïve, childish love or the frustration of pursuing
unrequited love. Despite the differences in themes, what all ten videos convey
about the subject of the lyrics is his or her immaturity. The narrating subject is
established as a young and innocent individual who marvels at the joy of first
love or feels frustrated in the face of unreciprocated love. (2012: 460)

Perhaps that is also true in regard to ‘Hann’, which tells an oft-repeated story about the

significance of the other part of an ended romantic relationship being forgotten and

metaphorically unrecognizable, ‘[e]ven if you come back, there is no place for you. It’s

done, I don’t know you […]’ (translated from Korean) Apart from the depressing tone,

‘Hann’ has still more in common with generic K-pop than for example contemporary

pansori artists like Song Sohee or So Hyang.

As for mise-en-scène, there is no particular narrative besides the lyrics, although

the different shooting spots and artificial backgrounds create a kaleidoscopic

atmosphere, where black and colourful settings and fashion styles appear alternately (a

characteristic common for K-pop, whose music videos tend to include three-four

different costumes or pieces of clothing). One may also notice elements and architecture

associated with the Middle East, such as a symbolic scorpion in a desert and buildings

11
reminiscent of for example Moroccan riads or villas. This might generate a more

intercultural and sophisticated ambience, instead of the more juvenile concept which is

displayed in the music video of ‘Latata’. The body language in the music video of ‘Hann’

is neutral or serious rather than joyful, which corresponds with the lyrical theme, subject

and the general mood of the song.

The explicit or manifest links to han are related to the title itself, as well as more

implicitly in the other constitutive elements of the song and music video. As such it

functions as a nodal point within its particular discourse. In this respect, han represents

lost love and grief associated with the process of to forget a former lover rather than

rancour over historical injustice. The lyrics are written by group leader and main rapper

Soyeon, who is of Korean descent, but this transnational group expresses the feeling as

a collective effort.

LUNA/JAMBINAI
Luna (Park Sun-young, born in 1993) is the lead singer of the K-pop female group f(x)

that debuted in 2009 and made significant success with songs like ‘Electric shock’,

which has surpassed 100 million views on YouTube. While the group has been on an

on-and-off hiatus as the members are older and the overall level of commercial success

has decreased, Luna has continued with a solo career and various other projects and

collaborations over the last three-four years.

In November 2016, Luna performed a collaborative live performance with the

alternative rock band Jambinai. Whereas f(x) has reached significant local and even

global success, at least during its peak years, the songs and live performances of

Jambinai have only generated hundreds of thousands of views on YouTube (Jambinai

official). Thus, it can be regarded as a commercial/alternative collaboration rather than

‘pure’ K-pop or K-rock.

12
 The temperament of the song is more melancholic than J-rock groups such as

One Ok Rock and Scandal, or K-pop/rock acts like Dreamcatcher and F.T. Island and

has more in common with instrumental post-rock bands like the Japanese group Mono

or the Canadian multi-instrumental collective Godspeed! You Black Emperor, although

the sombre vocals of Luna are an additional feature. Though typical western rock

instruments like guitar, bass and drums are used, Jambinai members do also use strings

and traditional Korean instruments, which underscore the gloomy soundscape. The

music follows a regular calm/heavy contrast structure, with an interlude characterized

by ominous strings and drumbeats, and a calm outro.

While this live performance does not include any specific narrative or mise-en-

scène, it has a rather distinctive theme and subject, reinforced by visuals showing

historical images of the older generations of Koreans, with the capital Seoul as its

coulisse, mostly at the end. The lyrics speak of an abstract subject, although explicitly

focused on themes such as loss and grief – perhaps the Korean past.

The Jambinai members do not express any specific feelings or gestures. Luna

does so, however, especially at the end of the performance. She is singing vividly and

gives a serious and focused appearance for the entirety of the song, quite atypical for

the professional smiles and ostentatious dance moves so common in her regular

commitments within the entertainment industry. Here an opposite tendency manifests

itself: what appear to be genuine tears trickle down her cheek as the last words are

uttered. Although the visuals do not include any specific images of footage related to

traumatic experiences such as the colonial era (1910–45) or the Gwangju Uprising in

1980, it contains material which shows the older generation of Koreans, perhaps a

reminder of the dismal and gruesome Korean past, as well as the shelter found in urban

modernity. As Jang and Kim highlight, ‘[s]ince Korea has developed from a traditional

to a highly industrial society in less than five decades, Korean culture maintains the
13
character of the traditional, modern, and postmodern i.e., space/time hybridity’ (2013:

85).

Both its different constitutive parts and the totality seem to indicate a discourse

which is, although more implicitly than manifestly, linked to the concept of han.

Everything from the music, lyrics, subject, theme, gestures and visuals signify sorrow,

grief and resentment. As such one may identify a link between modern or postmodern

music and the traditional Korean past.

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION

The examination of this particular content does not imply that K-pop in general is

changing in a more sombre or alternative direction. Indeed, much remains the same

regarding music genres, lyrical subjects and appearance, which is demonstrated in

relation to the currently most successful K-pop groups like BLACKPINK, BTS and

TWICE. However, this and other material indicate that South Koran popular music at

least is becoming slightly more diverse and that for a variety of reasons.

In contrast, increased Americanization is manifested in relation to highly

sexualized artists like Huyna, Hyolyn and Jessi. In contrast, groups like F. T. Island and

Dreamcatcher demonstrate a rock-oriented form of Korean popular music, a

phenomenon which at first glance seems to be a mere localization of J-rock. A reason

for this might simply be that the K in K-pop primarily stands for Kapital (Lie 2014) and

that this slight diversification is only a means to appeal to other audiences or cyclical

trends within the broader global music market. Common characteristics such as

synchronized dance moves, catchy pop songs and attractive performers continue to be

important but so are also variation and innovation.

However, this cannot explain neither the increased artistic agency of groups like

BTS and (G)I-dle, nor the less commercially successful han-related tendencies in the
14
case of Luna/Jambinai. While the latter might be considered a statistical outlier – the

bulk of K-pop, whether commercially successful or not, does not sound like this – the

former signifies a more impactful development within the mainstream ambit of the

South Korean music industry.

Due to commercial interests, agency control and western influences, K-pop is

often looked upon as inauthentic music (Lie 2014), but if artists can influence lyrics,

music and visual concepts to a larger degree the picture of the power relations becomes

blurrier and the local music industry less hegemonic in relation to its performers and

broader western modalities. Such a development does also open a possibility for

individual expression, influences from more atypical genres or sub-genres, and a more

distinctive connection to the cultural and historical experiences of the Korean people.

Since han – whether essentialistically represented or not – is often understood as a

unique and quite important cultural concept of the shared historical memory of Koreans,

it should not come as a surprise that some pop artists elaborate on such or similar

features within their songs, lyrics, live performances or music videos. At least a fraction

of the current generation of Koreans is aware of han, since it occasionally continues to

be emphasized in popular music, inclusive of K-pop. Perhaps one may, however, find

more instances of han in contemporary pansori and alternative rock music. Other

categories of cultural content like literature, film and TV drama may offer further

analytical material. Han Kang’s Human Acts (2017) may be a relevant introduction to

prototypical han-related K-literature, while Korean films like Oldboy (Park 2003), The

Wailing (Na 2016), Train to Busan (Park 2016) and Burning (Lee 2018) can offer a

significant starting point in that respect.

The results suggest that han in the analysed K-pop contents, while often implicit

rather than explicit, express lost love, the transgenerational understanding of Korean

grief, or an appeal to the collective feeling of vulnerability among global audiences.

15
Han, with regard to BTS, may be interpreted as a reaction against contemporary

capitalism or political transgressions, but several instances point to a more multifaceted

picture. Han, in South Korean cultural content and discourses, will likely be

occasionally evoked, either as ‘beautiful sorrow’ or resentment against internal or

external obstacles; if not another tragic event, like the Sewol ferry disaster, creates anti-

establishment attitudes in relation to more concrete political and social issues. The

question is rather to which extent it is expressed as something intercultural or universal

rather than uniquely Korean.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank the editors of this journal, and the anonymous reviewers for their

competent, balanced and insightful feedback on the submitted manuscript. Moreover, I

want to acknowledge Marcus Mosesson at the Department of Asian, Middle Eastern

and Turkish Studies at Stockholm University for discussing the most appropriate

translation of the Luna/Jambinai song (‘From the place that was erased’). Lastly, I want

to thank Luna of f(x) for her pleasant comportment when we encountered at the S.M.

Entertainment office in July 2016. While that in part goes beyond scholarly efforts, it

might be the case that I would have kept lesser track of her material in a vast ocean of

K-pop content if this had not occurred.

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CONTRIBUTOR DETAILS
Björn Boman is a Ph.D. student at the Department of Education at Stockholm
University. He has acquired two interrelated master’s degrees at Uppsala University
and studied Korean for three semester and the Department of Asian, Middle Eastern
and Turkish Languages at Stockholm University, which he keeps close ties with
regarding research endeavours. His research foci are educational achievement (e.g.
South Korea, Sweden, Vietnam), East Asian Popular Culture (e.g. South Korea, Japan)
and music business research (e.g. South Korea, Japan, Sweden).
Contact:
Department of Education, Stockholm University, Frescativägen 54, 114 18 Stockholm,
Sweden.
E-mail: bjorn.boman@edu.su.se

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Notes
1. The Gwangju Uprising was a series of protests in the city of
Gwangju in 1980, after the military dictator Park Chung-hee had been
assassinated in 1979 and the people were not content with the political,
social and economic conditions in the country. The brutality of the
police force, which led to a substantial death toll, in conjunction with
corrupt governance in its aftermath, have made the events into a
national tragedy that signifies social injustice
2. The sinking of MV Sewol occurred on 16 April 2014. The death toll of
almost 300 individuals, combined with a generally incompetent and
neglectful response from the South Korean government, has made it into
a symbol for weak governance in contemporary South Korea.

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