The drinking cultures of Korea and the United States are dramatically different, reflecting both the individuals’ relationship with the drink, as well as with society. The tendency, particularly in the past, of Koreans to drink to excess is well known and thankfully seems to be on the decline. I am more interested, however in what underpins our two nations’ drinking cultures, and what that, in turn, tells us about each other.

Illustrated by Yang Jin-kyung

All of us who have spent much time in Korea are well familiar with drinking with friends, business counterparts, or, perhaps, office colleagues. You sit at a table, likely after a good galbi or other meal, and one person orders the drinks for the table. It could be beer, soju, makkoli, whiskey, or more likely, some combination made of two of these. Wine also is an option. The same person also will agree on the “anju,’ or side dishes of food, for the group. The waitstaff brings the appropriate glassware, sets it in the middle of the table, then arranges the requested bottles of alcohol in the center, as well. It’s a little army of bottles and glasses, quickly surrounded by communal dishes of food. From there, the host or highest-ranking person at the dinner will start serving. He will pour and/or mix the first round of drinks. Throughout the evening, it is usually a single discussion at the table, learning about families, business, hometowns, respective offices and challenges, all punctuated by earnest toasts to each everyone’s health. As people finish each round of drinks in sync, the next round is prepared by the next guest at the table. It is an evening of informal, yet well- coordinated bonding and relaxation. I find that it goes less into excess now than it did one or two decades ago. The bonds made at these evenings are critical for “in-mek” or networking, and the connections one needs for future endeavors in Korea.

I have come to understand American drinking culture as radically different. When I go out with colleagues or friends in the US, or Western associates here in Seoul, each of us will order an individual cocktail before dinner. Thus, at the outset, we usually have different drinks, and have set out on our own paths for the evening. At dinner, those paths intersect again with a common bottle of wine, but the choice of the bottle is driven not just by what the host suggests, but also by the individual choices of dinner dishes (some may be eating beef, others fish, another vegan) and by suggestions from the waitstaff. If you have after-dinner drinks, or end up in a bar later, you again are ordering individually. It also is common in the US to go to a bar alone, or with a group of friends, and spend as much time watching sports on a big screen as you do talking with each other. In all my years in Korea, I cannot recall a single bar that was designed primarily for customers to watch TV there, other than those catering to foreigners.

The Korean drinking experience demonstrates to me many of the strengths of the culture here. There is an emphasis in forming collective bonds that enable deeper empathy and understanding with members of the group. This, of course, depends on leadership of the group ensuring that all are treated fairly in such a setting, free of harassment or undue pressure. The team that can grow positively from these evenings, though, can function even better in the office. In the US, the non-collective nature of our social drinking reflects the individualistic nature of our society. Neither Korean or American culture is superior to the other in this respect, but learning about each is important to knowing and understanding each other.