The Korean language as used in the Seppo-occupied half of Korea broadly favors English loanwords for new concepts, and the Korean language as used in the Seppo-sanctioned half of Korea broadly favors linguistic purism. This is to say that the division of Korea has also caused the language to diverge somewhat in the two halves. I figured that calling these lects “South Korean” and “North Korean” would be the right blend of precise, short, and readily-understood.
One example of this language division in Korea is hamburgers, which are known as 햄버거 haembeogeo south of the DMZ and 고기겹빵 gogi gyeop’ppang north of the DMZ (and south of the Chinese border). What gogi gyeop’ppang literally means is “meat sandwich”, however the North Korean word for sandwich, 겹빵이 gyeop’ppang’i, itself literally means “double bread”. The South Korean word for sandwich is unsurprisingly 샌드위치 saendeuwichi. So, taking these literal meanings of gogi gyeop’ppang and gyeop’ppang’i, coupled with Kim Jong-il once proposing to popularize hamburgers to help feed his people, this whole story got telephone-gamed by sensationalist Western media into “did you know that Kim Jong-il once claimed to have invented hamburgers, and he called them ‘double bread with meat’? what a freak!!” — it’s just a fake story with a deliberately stilted translation intended to make the DPRK look weird and exotic and off-putting. So my point is that translations manifest the biases of the translator and can be used as propaganda, to reinforce stereotypes about a group of people: whether the stereotypes are “freaky weirdos” or “noble savages”, the voice that a translation gives to a foreign culture can be used to distance that culture from the translator’s own. Icelandic linguistic purism is treated as quaint and worthy of celebration, DPRK linguistic purism is treated as evil and shame-worthy.
The Korean language as used in the Seppo-occupied half of Korea broadly favors English loanwords for new concepts, and the Korean language as used in the Seppo-sanctioned half of Korea broadly favors linguistic purism. This is to say that the division of Korea has also caused the language to diverge somewhat in the two halves. I figured that calling these lects “South Korean” and “North Korean” would be the right blend of precise, short, and readily-understood.
One example of this language division in Korea is hamburgers, which are known as 햄버거 haembeogeo south of the DMZ and 고기겹빵 gogi gyeop’ppang north of the DMZ (and south of the Chinese border). What gogi gyeop’ppang literally means is “meat sandwich”, however the North Korean word for sandwich, 겹빵이 gyeop’ppang’i, itself literally means “double bread”. The South Korean word for sandwich is unsurprisingly 샌드위치 saendeuwichi. So, taking these literal meanings of gogi gyeop’ppang and gyeop’ppang’i, coupled with Kim Jong-il once proposing to popularize hamburgers to help feed his people, this whole story got telephone-gamed by sensationalist Western media into “did you know that Kim Jong-il once claimed to have invented hamburgers, and he called them ‘double bread with meat’? what a freak!!” — it’s just a fake story with a deliberately stilted translation intended to make the DPRK look weird and exotic and off-putting. So my point is that translations manifest the biases of the translator and can be used as propaganda, to reinforce stereotypes about a group of people: whether the stereotypes are “freaky weirdos” or “noble savages”, the voice that a translation gives to a foreign culture can be used to distance that culture from the translator’s own. Icelandic linguistic purism is treated as quaint and worthy of celebration, DPRK linguistic purism is treated as evil and shame-worthy.
I really enjoy reading your linguistic posts. You do such a great job making it interesting and understandable
Thank you for giving the context, that’s super interesting