Speak, Don't Read > IDEAS & IDEALS

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Last Thursday, on September 7, I attended a lecture given by a young university professor of English at the Seoul American Center. It was on Herman Melville, an American novelist of the 19th century, and it was the first day of the annual lecture series on American literature under the auspices of the English Language and Literature Association of Korea. As usual and as I expected, there gathered about 60 persons, mostly graduate students and professors who study and teach American and English literature at colleges and universities in Seoul.

     Before the lecture began, the speaker of the day distributed xeroxed copies of his paper to each of the audience, and I got one and leafed through it and grasped the main idea of the text. Waiting for him to begin, I was curious whether the speaker would speak or read. I prayed in silence that this young, ambitious and promising scholar would not read, as so many speakers do in most of the academic lectures nowadays, but speak instead directly to the audience with his own words what he knows about the subject clearly and forcefully. But to my great disappointment, he began to read his lengthy and well-prepared paper faithfully, word by word, line by line, to the all-attentive audience.

     Soon I found I was mechanically following the printed words on the paper in my hand with my eyes, listening to the voice of the reader, and felt foolish and stupid. All the audience could, of course, read for themselves, and there was no reason for him to stand in front of us before the microphone, and to read for us. We were there to listen to somebody speaking, not reading. We took some pain to go there to see, listen, and feel somebody express his or her own opinions, ideas, and thoughts on the subject more clearly and emphatically through speaking. It was a good reading though, but rather monotonous and somewhat boring.

     I had once stood before the audience as a speaker of the same lecture series in the same place and atmosphere, approximately 10 years ago, when I was myself young and ambitious, and ignorant, and tasted a bitter taste of resounding failure. I was supposed to talk about Mark Twain and his Life on the Mississippi. I faithfully prepared my paper, but instead of reading I decided to make a public speaking. With my teaching experience in the classroom I thought I could do it well, but to my great embarrassment and shame, it all turned out very poor and bad. When I finished my lecture, I found I had spent only one third of my allotted time. Terrified and flushed, I began to repeat what I had already said. I began to go up the Mississippi river once more, and finding more time to go, I had to come down the river to kill the time left. After all the unnecessary voyages up and down the Mississippi river several times, I stepped down the speaker's platform. The applause from the audience was a jeer at and pity for me. Experiencing eternity in 50 minutes I vowed then and there I would become a reader myself hereafter, but with much regret and reluctance.

     Although I admit the dire difficulty, danger and risk lurking in speaking, I still have my strong preference for speaking to reading. Very regrettably, this practice of reading has not only taken root in our academic field; it has also encroached upon our political scene. One of the disappointing as well as exasperating things about our politicians is, among many, the conspicuous fact that those leaders of our people do not or cannot speak their opinions well and clearly, frankly and forcefully, when they are supposed and expected to do so. From president through prime minister to the spokesman of the party and government, we often see, nay too often, on TV, that he reads some prepared materials, prepared by others most probably, instead of speaking directly to the audience on some urgent and impending national issues. The result is that any kind of address for any purpose can never be convincing nor effective, when it is made in a form of reading.

     I know and understand that all the important and influential public figures should be much more cautious in opening their mouth than ordinary private persons. But to be cautious is one thing; to be afraid or evasive is another. Being cautious is a universal virtue not only in moving our tongues, but also in all our meaningful activities and endeavors; but if any public man who is supposed to lead the country and to persuade the people would not or could not speak well and clearly, it raises a grave question to be carefully examined and analysed. He is either not very much endowed with eloquence that is indispensably required of him as a public man, or he is wary of the consequences and reverberations of his remarks for some dishonest and inauspicious reasons, or he is not much knowledgeable about the subject being talked about. In any case of these, he is not fit for the leading position in a democratic country.

     To read is easier than to speak, and safer. Speaking, even with the help of memorandum, requires much more than mere power of memory. In addition to the special blessing from heaven, it demands deep knowledge and through understanding of the topic, and honesty, courage and confidence of the speaker. On top of these qualities, he should have the passion to speak out what he has in him. In short, speaking requires all and everything of the man. Speaking is the man.

     In comparison with it, reading is a safe haven for those who are afraid of making verbal mistakes, who are not mindful of the response from the audience, and who can be satisfied with mediocrity. It is a convenient compromise between clarity and obscurity, between a verbal success and failure, and between knowledge and ignorance.

We have come a long way to restore democracy, and the arduous struggle has produced many freedom-fighters in the course of the road, and very fortunately they are in power and are now leading our country. But very unfortunately they fought mainly with fists, not with tongues. They did not have much time to practice eloquence. The National Assembly has always been a place more of physical clashes than of lively debates or moving speech contests. Soon we are going to elect our new political representatives, and I wish one of the most important criteria for the selection this time would be how well a candidate can speak; so well that just listening to him would be a great pleasure.
          (October 12, 1995)