[fn Plaza] I am right and you are wrong

Every year at the end of the year, the Kyosu Shinmun selects and announces the "Four-Character Idiom of the Year." This is not merely a selection of a popular phrase of the year, but a form of "social diagnosis" that encapsulates the state of our society into four characters. Last year, the idiom selected was *Byeondongbulgeo* (變動不居), meaning "the world is constantly changing without stopping for even a moment." For 2024, when the December 3rd Martial Law was declared, *Doryangbalho* (跳梁跋扈), meaning "running wild and wielding power arbitrarily," was chosen. In 2023, when various forms of corruption were rampant, *Gyeonrimangui* (見利忘義), meaning "forgetting righteousness when seeing profit," was selected as the idiom of the year. Furthermore, exactly six years ago in 2020, *Ashitabi* (我是他非), meaning "I am right and others are wrong," was placed at the very top.
"Ashitabi" is actually a term with no original source. While "Byeondongbulgeo" is found in the *Book of Changes*, "Doryangbalho" in the *Zhuangzi* and *Book of Later Han*, and "Gyeonrimangui" in the *Book of Han*, this phrase is a kind of newly coined neologism. Since the *Gyosu Shinmun* began announcing the Four-Character Idiom of the Year, this was the first time a coined word was selected as the keyword for the year. Strictly speaking, the original term for "Ashitabi" is "Naeronambul." As everyone knows, "Naeronambul" means "it is romance when I do it, but adultery when others do it," and the generally accepted theory is that it was first used by then-New Korea Party lawmaker Park Hee-tae immediately after the 15th general election in 1996. However, perhaps feeling somewhat uncomfortable putting this slang term, whose origin is unclear, front and center, the *Gyosu Shinmun* changed it into the form of a four-character idiom. At the time, a newspaper even wrote a column suggesting that this phrase could be shortened to 'IRYW,' using the initials of the English phrase 'I am right, you are wrong.'
It seems there would be absolutely no problem in selecting this phrase as the "Idiom of the Year" again this year. This is because the world is completely engulfed by statements asserting, "I am right, and you are wrong." In 2016, historian Lee Jeong-cheol published a book titled *Why Do Good Intellectuals Engage in Bad Politics?* This hefty volume, spanning 2,000 pages of 200-character manuscript paper, reconstructs the process of intensifying factional strife from the 8th year of King Seonjo's reign (1575) to the 23rd year (1590), just before the outbreak of the Imjin War. It meticulously examines why the righteous Sarim were bound to experience failure in real-world politics. The book's message that "good intentions or ethics could not replace politics" remains valid even today.
Regardless of the author's intent, the central themes raised in this book seem likely to serve as a tool for examining the current government's ideology and various policies. This is because instances where initiatives started with good intentions and confidence have resulted in disastrous outcomes are overflowing. The most representative examples are real estate and farmland policies. These policies are underpinned by a strong moral conviction that "I (or we) am right." Consequently, investment in real estate and farmland has become a massive evil that must be eradicated at all costs. When the hatred for evil becomes excessive, it inevitably leads to the arrogance of refusing to obediently follow the opinions of others. A prime example is the attitude that "there is no government that can defeat the market, but there is no market that can defeat the government."
Take the recently introduced farmland policy, for instance. Citing the principle of "land to the tiller," the government has decided to conduct a comprehensive survey of farmland and impose disposal orders and enforcement fines on land that is not being cultivated. While the intention to prevent farmland speculation is understandable, the reality is that due to the decline and aging of the farming population, there is a shortage of people to farm even when there is an oversupply of land. If regulations are applied uniformly even to cases where it is difficult to cultivate inherited land directly, it could drive even well-meaning landowners into becoming lawbreakers. Just because a principle is correct does not mean that a policy that mechanically applies that principle to reality is also right.
Applying such strict standards sometimes creates a "bittersweet" reality. This is because there are quite a few cases that are difficult to explain when the very standards set by the government are applied to high-ranking public officials. Recently, various controversies surrounding housing and farmland have arisen one after another during ministerial confirmation hearings. Although the individuals involved explained that there were unavoidable circumstances, to the public, these actions may not appear much different from what the government has defined as speculation or loopholes. The moment the standards the government demands of the people diverge from the standards it applies to itself, it becomes difficult to avoid criticism of hypocrisy.
The opposite of Ashitabi is Chunpungchusang. It means to treat others warmly like a spring breeze, but to be as strict as an autumn frost toward oneself. The legitimacy of a policy does not stem solely from a noble cause. It gains power only when that cause is applied equally to oneself. If high standards are demanded of the people, the government and public officials must also overcome those standards. One cannot gain the trust of the people by being as strict as frost toward the faults of others while being as lenient as a spring breeze toward oneself.
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