Courtesy of G. Poulsen By David A. Tizzard Growing up, I often encountered the cliché that Innuits had anywhere between 50-100 words for snow.
The numerous different terms and expressions reflecting not only the importance but also the prominence of snow in their daily lives. The same might be said for rice in Korea. We often think of rice as just a single entity, but for Koreans it lives a multilayered life.
It is "byeo" when it’s in plant form, "ssal" as husks, and "bap" when it’s the thing placed on the table. By the same token, "bap" also means meal. You can test this by asking a Korean person what "bap" means: shome will shout rice while others will tell you it means something like food or meal.
Some of them will also say that if a meal doesn’t include rice, it’s not a real meal. I know when I order bossam from a local restaurant and tell the lady I don’t need the scorching hot stainless steel rice bowl filled with white stuff, she will give me a funny look. I must be joking! No rice with your lunch? Nonsense.
When you greet people, instead of asking them how they have been, you might ask them "bap meogeosseo?" (Did you eat rice/a meal?). When you leave them, you don’t say that you’ll see them next time but rather "daeume bap hanbeon meokja" (Let’s eat rice/a meal together next time). These expressions aren’t to be taken literally, but rather figuratively.
You also have rice cake marinated in a red spicy sauce sold on most street corners, rice porridge for when you’re sick, sikhye as a sweet desert drink after meals, and soju and makkoli as rice wines for when you want to get blasted. Rice is everywhere. And it has had an important role in shaping and making the Korean people into who they are.
It might even be one of the reasons why people here have been so collectively intertwined and focused on a culture of "woori" (ours) rather than the individualism found elsewhere. The Power and change of rice Although consumption habits are now changing as green tea and vegetables are replaced by americanos and bagels, it’s not completely uncommon for some Koreans to eat rice three times a day, including at the breakfast table. An old expression tells us "hangugineun bapsimeuro sanda" (Korean people live through the power of rice).
By 1974, rice accounted for 26 of the GNP, roughly 50% of the daily calorie intake was from rice, and it took up 18% of urban household budgets. Rice has been in Korea a long time, with some scholars like Hahm Han-hui tracing it back to the late Neolithic Age or Early Bronze Age. Farmers believe that rice (byeo) is something bestowed on them by heaven (the Asian form rather than the Judeo-Christian) and they are merely the cultivators, charged with collectively planting and growing the grain while obeying the voice of nature.
As they put the crop through this process, it changes from a natural concept into a commodity. The "byeo" becomes "ssal." Working as a form of currency, farmers would be charged a certain amount by landowners and have to pay in "ssal.
" Such a system was not unique to Korea; the word "salary" comes from the Latin word "salarium," which is derived from "sal," meaning salt. Roman soldiers were sometimes paid an allowance, known as "salarium," to buy salt, which was a crucial part of their sustenance. Likewise in Korea, the ‘ssal’ demonstrated how having an abundance of rice was a symbol of wealth and affluence.
However, while "ssal" symbolizes wealth and commodity, when it becomes "bap" it represents family and togetherness. It is for people that eat from the same bowl (or rice cooker). There are many different types of rice that people eat and one rule has generally been, the whiter the rice, the better it is.
Many people have seen Korea’s skin whitening as a form of modern racism, often through the ethnocentric lens of western racism or capitalism. But Korean people have long associated the color white with purity. When performing ancestor worship, only white rice (hin ssal bap) is offered.
Fathers and sons have traditionally been given the freshest rice from the pot and served first. Women would eat last, grandmothers often surreptitiously passing their own rice onto the young ones in the family. Thus rice would bring people together and, simultaneously, differentiate them from each other.
When the harvest was made at Chuseok every year, the new rice would be called haep ssal (new year’s rice). Today, many in South Korea have realized the health benefits of eating rice mixed with various grains and beans and it comes in all sorts of colors, ranging from brown (hyeonmibap) to purple (japgokbap). If there’s a really delicious side dish being served that makes people keep eating, this will be described as a bapdoduk (a rice thief).
Because the food is so addictive, one keeps eating and thus consuming all the rice with it. North Korean people have the same expression today but call it bapdojeok instead. Defectors from the North have said that the price of rice there affects everything, and people fight for it daily.
White rice and meaty soup has been the symbol of prosperity north of the border since Kim Il Sung formulated his vision of a socialist paradise in the middle of the 20th century. But so dependent is the country on rice that any damage to the production can have devastating consequences. Reports place deaths from the famine in the mid-1990s at around 1,000,000 people (3-5% of the population).
A socialist paradise it was not. Crops, not Confucianism? Jolla is the home of the Peasants Uprising (1892) and the Gwangju Uprising (1980). It’s often believed to possess a culture and language someone distinct from the rest of the peninsula.
The three southern regions (Kyungsang, Jolla and Chungchong) had far bigger population density by the 19th century than the national average and rice was produced in large amounts. Some have suggested that, instead of Confucianism, Mahayana Buddhism and other forms of religious and political control, it was the type of crops grown here that provided a form of social consciousness among the people. The reason a sociology textbook might tell you that Korea is a collectivist, interdependent, high context society very different in its cultural dimensions from Western Europe or Latin America is because of.
..rice? Enter the "Rice Theory of Culture," an idea that has sparked discussions among scholars and sociologists.
At its core, the theory proposes that the type of crop a society depends on — rice in this case — can leave a mark on its culture and people. Rice, unlike wheat or other crops, is labor-intensive, requiring the synchronized effort of entire communities. The success of a rice harvest depends on irrigation systems and careful water management, often shared among neighbors.
It’s a process that ties people together, necessitating cooperation, mutual reliance, and collective labor. The argument is that the demands of rice farming have fostered a culture of collectivism in societies where rice is a staple crop. In East Asia, this has meant an emphasis on community, harmony, and social cohesion.
Here, the group’s well-being often takes precedence over individual desires — a sharp contrast to the more individualistic societies of the West. These agricultural practices don’t just shape how people work — they also influence how they think. Other research suggests that those from rice-farming regions are more likely to think holistically, seeing the world as an interconnected whole rather than in isolated parts.
This cognitive style reflects a culture that values relationships and context, where social bonds and obligations are paramount. Rice today People no longer plant rice and work the paddies the way they used to. The nongyo (famers’ songs) that rang from the fields as people worked together have been replaced by the buzz of drones spraying fertilizer from up high and the incessant ring of K-pop on our devices.
It’s interesting to note that as Korean people eat less rice, they are becoming more independent. They are eating alone more and more. Favouring different diets and eating arrangements.
They are no longer performing ancestor worship and placing the white rice in a bowl with the chopsticks inserted vertically. We are also becoming more confident in our own opinions, holding forth on all sorts of political, economic, and ethical issues irrespective of our qualifications or knowledge. Yet despite all of these dietary and social changes there’s one rice-based expression we would do well to remember: byeo-neun igeulsurok gogaereul suginda.
This tells us that the riper the rice is, the more deeply it bows. As the rice in the field ages, it sags more. Points towards the ground.
And this is a reflection of what the human experience should be like. As we become older, we are less quick to celebrate ourselves or our achievements. We downplay our success.
We look to others instead of ourselves. I love how Korean people (and those in the neighboring regions) have understood the human experience through such crops. We can be seen through rice just as we can ginseng.
The word insam (ginseng) in the original Chinese means human root and Korean people will affirm that the most beautiful and health providing root is one that looks like a human. We are humans. We are of the earth.
Born from it. Like the food we consume. We are connected.
Rice has long been part of the Korean story and whatever cultural or economic developments might appear in the future, with all the computers and technology, we would do well not to forget our origins and to bow, as the rice does. David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University.
He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.
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