Last Saturday, my cellphone kept vibrating incessantly as it received numerous text messages that read, “The email I sent you bounced back due to insufficient space in your account. Check your email storage.” I immediately checked my email account and saw this warning: “You have used 150 percent of your email storage. Please delete old emails to free up space.” How was that possible? Only the day before, I had noticed the graph indicated I had used only 50 percent of the space allotted to me. 

Suddenly it occurred to me that I was scheduled to retire from Seoul National University on Aug. 31, which was Sunday. Aha! That was it! That was why the SNU information systems and technology department had abruptly and brutally cut back my email account’s storage space to one-third. They did not even bother to inform me that they would be reducing my email privileges after my retirement. They just sent me the warning “Delete your old emails.” It almost sounded like they were saying, “Erase your old memories with SNU.” It made me sad.

However, I was not simply a retired professor. I was a professor emeritus who was still entitled to customary benefits for faculty members including library access, parking and email privileges. Besides, they should have waited until Monday, when I would be legally retired from the university. But they hurriedly cut my email privileges in advance. They must have been completely oblivious of my lifetime contributions to the university and thought that a retired professor was no longer useful.

I was not only disappointed by their thoughtlessness but also amazed at their prompt action. Normally, Koreans are so slow to take action. The “special Sewol bill” is a good example. Almost five months have passed since the tragic accident, and yet the National Assembly has not been able to pass the special bill. In the case of reducing retired professors’ privileges, however, they are incredibly swift. Perhaps they find pleasure in taking away someone’s privileges? Or perhaps it is their way of advising us retired professors to cut back on our living expenses to one-third of our usual limit? If that is the case, they should have sent the warning directly to our shopaholic wives rather than to us.

After the retirement ceremony finished last Friday, I met one of my former colleagues who had retired from SNU a few years ago. “Welcome to the Old Boys’ Club!” said the retired professor as he gave me a big hug. “It’s a jungle out there. You may need some time to adjust to the new and hostile environment.” Then he mischievously added, “Welcome to the jungle!” Since I had been working for the government for the past three years, I could understand what he was trying to say. Working off-campus, I found our society was plagued by charlatans, confidence-men and swindlers. Indeed, as soon as I left the ivory tower, I found that violent crimes and impertinent scams were rampant and that our society seriously lacked rationality, decency and intellect.

I realized that college is indeed an idealistic, idyllic place just like W.B. Yeats’ “The Lake Isle of Innisfree,” where people choose romantic dreams over material success. It is a place where you find people who pursue academic goals with hope and infinite possibilities. It is also a place where you can still find innocence, integrity and dignity. And it is a place where people rush to help and comfort you when you are in trouble. Indeed, I will never forget my warm, decent colleagues in the English department and the exceptionally bright students in my classes. It was always an inspiration and a great pleasure to work with them.

Outside the university campus, however, it is hard to find someone who is still innocent or dreaming. Life’s harsh realities have turned many into heartless, careless, pitiless and callous people. So many people in our society have lost sight of their dreams while pursuing mundane pleasures and material success. And when you are in trouble, people will rush to swindle you out of your money, acting as if they can solve your problems. Indeed, the difference between college and greater society is enormous.

Nevertheless, in today’s Korea, even colleges seem to have turned into inhumane places. Reducing retired professors’ email privileges is just a minor example. There are a host of things that contribute to the dehumanization of the university: the unbridled competition among professors that often results in plagiarism or scams; disparagement of the humanities by administrators who do not comprehend the importance of liberal education; and ideological confrontation between left- and right-wing scholars, to name but a few. Korean historians, especially, are sharply divided into radical and conservative factions that are hopelessly fighting each other, while the students are left confused.

I, too, was momentarily confused when the senior retired professor told me, “Beware! It’s a jungle out there.” Perhaps the university has already turned into a jungle. A blackboard jungle. 

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor emeritus of English at Seoul National University and president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. ― Ed.