Friday fiction: Naked academia in Seoul

I’ve never met an academic who would not fall for a honey trap...

Just over six months ago, I was sitting in the faculty lunchroom and Chuck walked in, glanced around the room nervously, and came over to my table, and sat down. He looked around again.

“Jerry, I did a weird thing last night.”

Charles ‘Chuck’ Austen was weird himself, there’s no doubting it. He started at the university teaching academic writing after ten years as a diplomat, though everyone assumed he used to be a spy. Any reasonable soul would expect he’d teach international relations, politics, or area studies, but no, he taught “academic writing”.

In South Korea, there are a few subjects, like research methods and academic writing that are treated like stained mugs in a faculty lunchroom. They’re neglected, pushed aside, forgotten, and only occasionally allowed to see daylight – and then only to trap spiders. Chuck came to the university when he was appointed by the previous Head of School.

Unfortunately for Chuck, the previous Head of School was investigated for corruption and everything he’d touched was treated with suspicion – including the Professor of Academic Writing role that he occupied. So everyone pretty much avoided Chuck.

His eyes darted from side to side, he leaned in and spoke in a low whisper.

“It was hot. Way too hot, Jerry.”

In the Seoul summer heat, the air-conditioning normally turns off at five to save on energy, despite working hours stretching until around nine. The later you stay, the hotter it gets. Chuck could hardly contain his excitement, and leaned forward and whispered again.

“By eleven, the office was a sweat box, so I took off my shirt and trousers. An hour later, I took it all off. The door was ajar, so… I did it!

“Did what Chuck?”, I asked, despite knowing the response was already coming.

He smiled. A broad smile of achievement and pride.

“I stepped outside and walked naked in the world of academia! Jerry! It was invigorating! You’ve never felt such a twisted thrill as walking down those hallowed halls naked as a jaybird.”

I asked why. It all came back to his peculiar situation. The previous Head of School had written the rules so Chuck didn’t have to publish. He only had to teach. The current Head of School didn’t like it, and changed the rules so that Chuck had to fulfill a publishing quota under a convoluted points system like every other academic. With nothing published, Chuck was at the sharp end of a short academic career.

So why did Chuck walk the hallowed halls of academia naked? He needed inspiration – as simple as that. He needed inspiration so that he could write. And on that night, he said, the plan came to him as he walked naked. He’d write a collection of short stories and anecdotes on his life in Korea. Now, you’ll probably read it sooner or later. He has a publisher and it’s on schedule. I read an early draft.

The story commenced, unsurprisingly, with Chuck walking the university corridors naked. Over several nights he walks past offices giving the reader insight into the darker side of academic life. Each night ends with him uncertain as to whether he saw another naked figure off in the distance. Then, one night he reaches the office of the Head of School.

He stands naked outside the Head of School’s office listening to faint sounds inside. His heart enters his throat as Hu Li, the Professor of Chinese Literature clad in a flowing silken nightdress and distractingly naked underneath appears on his left and asks something like “Who are you working for?” In quick succession, Jacob Steinic, an Associate Professor of Gender Studies appears on his right – hairy, overweight and very much grotesquely naked. Steinic answers the question before Chuck can respond. “He’s American, look at him.”

Hu Li then looks at both of them and whispers “Why are you two naked? The Head of School’s not interested in men, right?” Steinic again responds, “I thought he was.” He motions towards Chuck. “I saw him the other night heading to the Head of School’s office naked.”

Before Chuck could respond, all three are surprised by the faint sounds behind the door transforming into grunts, steady metered thuds, and then a climactic Russian utterance: “Da, da, da, acchhhhhhhh da!!!”.

Professor Hu Li speaks first again. “Well, that’s Professor Marina Krajnak in there. Looks like the Russians will decide which professor goes to the foreign ministry”. Steinic responds, “Oh well, we failed. But it was fun. You’re heading back to Beijing? I’m going back to Tel Aviv. Maybe I’ll retire and work for real at a university.” They both agree to talk the next day as if it’s business as usual, before disappearing into the darkness.

Chuck’s story then wraps up with him hearing about the now somewhat suspicious exploits of each of the professors, like sharing software and giving USB flash drive gifts to administration staff, arranging for faculty grants with institutes in their home countries, and securing scholarships and study trips for students with an interest in government service.

I remember Chuck’s explanation on why he wrote about the university.

“If you were a foreign intelligence agency, what better place would there be to insert agents of influence under deep cover than amidst a poorly administered, corruptible university department full of feckless foreigners and overly ambitious academics who would one day serve in government? An agent in place would conceivably be able to simply collect compromising material by just being there, or more likely, be able to put in place an operation that would ensure later compliance.”

Now, I don’t know where fact ended and fiction began, and I can’t say I ever knew anyone resembling the likes of Marina Krajnak, Hu-Li or Jacob Steinic, or anyone who resembled or acted like the Head of School, but Chuck was insistent.

“I’ve never met an academic who would not fall for a honey trap”, Chuck said to me, “arranging an illicit sexual liaison and then threatening to reveal all, seems like it was specifically designed for the revolving door between academia and national security in South Korea.”

As far as I know, Chuck still is a weird one. I left the university shortly after and moved back home. As far as I’m aware, Chuck continues to walk naked through the hallowed halls of academia.

…

Sometimes fiction can be more speculative, but more often just reflects reality from a different perspective. Either way, sorting fact with fiction helps to build the creativity needed in strategic analysis.