The 2015 Andong International Mask Dance Festival is now underway until Oct. 4 at Hahoe Village, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Andong, North Gyeongsang Province. Throughout the year, a mask dance troupe performs at the famous folk village for tourists. 

The paulownia wood masks that exaggerate the funny expressions of the characters in the Joseon-era satirical song and dance stage are preserved as “important cultural properties.” A “yangban” noble, a monk, a butcher, old and young women and others each reveal a degree of moral deficiency as they play tricks with each other. The smiling mask of a learned man among the characters has been chosen by the cultural authorities as one of the faces of Korea.

Mask dance, a popular folk art in old times, has nearly become extinct, with some different versions being passed on by preservation groups. In this age of K-pop, masks are used in a TV singing contest, but are hardly an important prop. Off the stage, however, we see masks worn by a large number of beauty- and health-obsessed people, often in weird forms.

Go to the Yangjaecheon Stream to meet them. Originating from Cheonggyesan Hill, it flows through Seocho, Gaepo, Daechi and Irwon areas to join the Tancheon Stream and then the Hangang River. Parallel passages run at three different levels of both banks, offering a refreshing environment for walkers, joggers and bikers. Cranes fly low, ducks cruise in groups and incredibly large carp bump against each other in shaded water under willow trees.

My sprightly mood on my morning walk is hurt the moment I confront ladies wearing beige or pink masks that cover their faces from just below the eyes. A more repulsive design cuts out the center, covering the nose with a separate piece of cloth to allow freer breathing. The sun is still not up over the Yangjaecheon but these masked women are only anxious about protecting their skin from ultraviolet rays, regardless of the time, weather and the feelings of other walkers.

Believe it or not, I have spotted masked promenaders under light rain. Bikers who take the broader, lowest lanes on both sides of the stream invariably wrap their faces with round mufflers of colorful design. Holes are cut for their eyes that too are shielded by thick sunglasses against not only the sun but supposedly the piercing air. Why bikers of all the outdoor leisure people tend to wear the most hilarious-looking attire from head to toe, I wonder.

Masked people are also seen in downtown streets, many in Apgujeong-dong where hundreds of plastic surgery clinics are clustered together. Young women, Korean, Chinese, Japanese and Uzbekistani, move about wearing the masks their doctors provided after operating on their noses, jaws or other parts. Statistics reveal 1 out of every 10 girls in their 20s here has undergone plastic surgery but, by my personal observation on Seoul subways, at least 3 out of 10 have put their faces at the mercy of the scalpels of those “reconstruction” artists.

Joseon-era mask dancers helped people laugh off the hypocrisy of the times. Today, masks are used for various self-serving purposes, to protect against the sun and foreign-originated viruses and to enhance individual competitiveness in what is becoming appearance-first society. In the 21st century, everyone plays a mask dance of sorts, deriding absurd social circumstances on one hand and trying to adapt themselves to the reality, in finding job and picking up spouse, by modifying their appearance, on the other.

A cable TV channel enjoyed explosive popularity with a unique physical makeover program. “Let Me In” (me-in means beautiful person in Korean) continued for five seasons, introducing the process of people in extreme disadvantage for their unusual features being “reborn” as attractive through extensive plastic surgery. CJ E&M, owner of the channel announced it would terminate the series earlier this month after vehement protests from women’s organizations that the show degraded womanhood and promoted cosmetic surgery.

Some major industrial companies drew serious attention from young job seekers as they decided not to consider applicants’ educational backgrounds but rely entirely on interviews and self-introductory essays. This is an innovation to save young people from struggling to enter reputed institutes of higher learning and competing for higher academic scores, but it could make plastic surgery clinics even more prosperous as male and female job aspirants would want to look better in interviews.

Looking better does not seem to be solely the concern of the young generation nowadays. Just think of what percentage of adult population dye their hair or wear wigs, and we know the rate goes up in the higher strata of society. At least two Cabinet members appear in public with wigs on and only a few ministers are known to keep the natural color of their hair. There is nothing wrong with this phenomenon and wigs and dyed hair help strengthen confidence in life and work, but can’t we draw a parallel between this and cosmetic surgery in their motivations?

Some people use “invisible” masks to hide their identities from public exposure and our court protects them. Years ago, Rep. Cho Jeon-hyuk of the Saenuri Party demanded the Jeongyojo group of schoolteachers make its membership public. As the leftist dissident organization refused, Cho began publishing the list that he privately obtained in his blog in 2010. Jeongyojo successfully got a court injunction and then won a suit to force the lawmaker, some of his supporters and an online newspaper pay the group over 1.3 billion won in compensation.

The Western District Court of Seoul ruled in favor of Jeongyojo on the grounds of the constitutional right to the freedom of assembly. The basic law protects members of an association to remain externally anonymous when it is necessary to maintain the group, the court explained. I have yet to be convinced by this logic, which is known to be in accord with some precedents in the United States. If they are doing just and righteous things, why are they reluctant to make their association public?

Mask wearers make us uncomfortable because they see us while we cannot see them. As a concerned citizen, I now humbly propose that full-face masks be banned in the street. It not only looks ugly but can serve criminal purposes.

By Kim Myong-sik

Kim Myong-sik is a former editorial writer for The Korea Herald. – Ed.