Last updated on August 16, 2024
After a move in Korea, people must report their new address to the government. Korean citizens do so at their neighborhood government office, whereas foreigners do so at the district office or city hall. This small formality completes any move.
For years, moving in Seoul usually meant moving from one “dong,” a precinct-sized neighborhood, to another. Each plot of land had a number that was used at the end of the address. The address went from larger to smaller, with the “dong” being the last word in the address.
The “dong” has a long history as the smallest administrative district of Korean cities. During the Joseon Kingdom period (1392-1910), Seoul was divided into five “bu,” which correspond to today’s “gu” (districts), with each “bu” divided into a number of “dong.” During the latter part of the Japanese colonial period (1910-1945), the word “dong” was changed to “machi” as part of Japan’s enforced assimilation policy. After liberation, the name was changed back and new “dong” were created as the city grew rapidly.
The “dong” in the old parts of the city, particularly in Jongno-gu and Jung-gu are small, sometimes very small. Changseong-dong in Jongno-gu, one of the smallest “dong” in the city, is about the size of an American city block. As the city moved outward, the “dong” became bigger. Large “dong” were often subdivided into smaller ones and noted with a number.
Like streets and neighborhoods in other cities, people in Seoul used to identify themselves with a certain “dong” because it was the core neighborhood. Some “dong,” such as Myeong-dong and Samcheong-dong, also take on a distinct image. The idea of “areas,” such as Gangnam and Hongdae, are new in the history of Seoul. Likewise, the use of street names to refer to an area is limited to Jongno, Daehangno and Garosugil.
The steady rise of apartments since the1980s weakened the “dong” because people began to identify themselves with a complex of buildings instead of a district. With a few exceptions, apartment complexes are smaller than “dong,” so this trend narrowed the geographical range of identity. Most “dong” in commercial areas still retain a distinct image, but areas and apartment complexes carry more panache than “dong” now.
In 2012, a new system of addresses was adopted nationwide. The new system broke strongly with tradition by replacing the word “dong” with a street name. Thus all of the formerly nameless alleys in old parts of the city now have a name and each house on the alley a number. Under the influence of the street name and house numbering system common in the West, the bureaucrats designed the system as an “advanced” system. No doubt, too, somewhere in the bureaucracy, someone had argued that “dong” were a relic from the Japanese colonial era.
The immediate problem with the new system of addresses is that nobody likes it. The tax office and utility companies have, as expected, adapted quickly to the new system, but most people do not understand it and are quietly resisting its usage, much like how Americans have long resisted the dollar coin. The city and district offices have dutifully sent notices about the new system, but to little avail.
The larger problem with the new system is that it is ahistorical; it has no roots in Korean history. This creates an ideological conflict with other policies, particularly those associated with the historic center of Seoul that the city is pursuing. Most of these policies, such as “hanok” preservation and preservation of the Seoul City Wall, focus on preserving history and creating a sense of history in areas damaged by rampant development. The city is also interested in creating a sense of “Seoulness,” and the elimination of historic “dong” in favor of a Western-style “advanced” system undermines that cause.
Reverting back to the older system of addresses is the easiest way to rectify the situation. The new system is, in fact, the second attempt at implementing a new address system, so there is already a precedent for dropping a system that nobody likes or uses. Only a sustained rejection of the new system will convince bureaucrats to give up yet again.
Regardless of what happens to the new system in history, bureaucrats should, at the very least, have the courage to allow cities and districts to opt out of the new system. This would allow historically important areas, such as a Jongno-gu and Jung-gu, to maintain their sense of history while meeting the needs of confused citizens.