Your examples of the term “uri” and how it’s expressed in Korean culture—like fans memorizing lyrics to sing with an artist or chanting together at sports events—really resonated with me. It reminded me of the culture I grew up in, particularly in parts of the Middle East such as Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria.
Let me explain. In these countries, if you’re sitting alone at a coffee shop—maybe enjoying a drink or using your tablet—you’ll often find people coming over to sit with you and start a conversation. It’s a reflection of our strong sense of hospitality. People there are incredibly warm and open, especially toward foreigners. They’re always ready to share stories about their country and culture. Even if they don’t speak English well, many will try hard to communicate—using translation apps or gestures—just to make you feel welcome.
Another example is from the road: If you’re driving and appear lost, there’s usually a traffic police officer nearby who will approach you to offer help. They often rely on body language to understand what you need and make sure you find your way. These small but significant acts reflect a deep cultural value of caring for others—whether they’re part of your group or not.
This sense of “we”—uri—is very strong in our culture too, though it manifests differently than in Korea. At the same time, there has historically been division, particularly along religious lines, such as between Muslims and Christians. That kind of “us vs. them” mindset unfortunately still exists in some areas. However, there has also been a lot of progress. People have become more open-minded, more respectful of each other’s beliefs. For instance, even if someone doesn’t celebrate a particular holiday, it’s common to greet others with good wishes during their religious celebrations.
We also see unity during life events—weddings, the birth of a child, and especially funerals. In times of loss, it feels like the whole community, even the entire nation, comes together to support one another. That’s when our version of uri really shines.
While religious division remains a challenge in the Middle East, I truly believe that if we could overcome it more fully, our region would be even stronger in terms of unity. Still, the mutual respect and collective spirit we already share allow us to come together when it matters most. Our uri is different from that of Korea’s, but no less powerful.
Your examples—from a stranger pulling up a chair at a café, to a traffic officer reading body language to help, to the way communities gather for weddings and especially funerals—taught me a lot.
It’s a vivid picture of a Middle Eastern version of “we”: hospitality as a daily invitation, and unity that shows up when it matters.
I’m grateful you also named the tensions along religious lines and the gestures of respect that bridge them (like holiday greetings). Different histories, similar heart ❤️
I’m glad uri feels comforting to you. This may or may not be reassuring, but I’ve spent much of my life outside Korea and I also wonder if I’ve ever truly felt the big, headline version of uri. Among Koreans abroad there’s even a half-joking line: “Overseas, the people you need to be most careful around might be other Koreans.” I don’t love that saying, but I get why it exists. In small diaspora circles, where reputations feel fragile and opportunities feel scarce, the same fairness sensitivity that powers solidarity can curdle into gatekeeping and gossip. Any “we” can get brittle under pressure.
I’d also clarify that uri is not blood and not a passport. It is a choice to share fate with a group that also chooses you. By that definition, diaspora uri often blooms in different shapes. It can be bilingual, multilingual, hybrid, and a little messy, and that is not a flaw. That is how belonging grows.
Honestly, the place I feel uri most these days is with my neighbors from Nepal.
I introduced uri to explain Korean society, but I also believe we can root it where we live. We can indigenize it so that uri stops being something we admire from the outside and becomes something we make together.❤️
That is absolutely real. The Korean diaspora in Mexico are a love-hate community that struggle with the concept of solidarity, except when it benefits them. I get it, uri is and should be more of “I belong to these people and I will stand by them whenever they need me.” But, humans…sigh….
Dr. Yoon,
Your examples of the term “uri” and how it’s expressed in Korean culture—like fans memorizing lyrics to sing with an artist or chanting together at sports events—really resonated with me. It reminded me of the culture I grew up in, particularly in parts of the Middle East such as Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria.
Let me explain. In these countries, if you’re sitting alone at a coffee shop—maybe enjoying a drink or using your tablet—you’ll often find people coming over to sit with you and start a conversation. It’s a reflection of our strong sense of hospitality. People there are incredibly warm and open, especially toward foreigners. They’re always ready to share stories about their country and culture. Even if they don’t speak English well, many will try hard to communicate—using translation apps or gestures—just to make you feel welcome.
Another example is from the road: If you’re driving and appear lost, there’s usually a traffic police officer nearby who will approach you to offer help. They often rely on body language to understand what you need and make sure you find your way. These small but significant acts reflect a deep cultural value of caring for others—whether they’re part of your group or not.
This sense of “we”—uri—is very strong in our culture too, though it manifests differently than in Korea. At the same time, there has historically been division, particularly along religious lines, such as between Muslims and Christians. That kind of “us vs. them” mindset unfortunately still exists in some areas. However, there has also been a lot of progress. People have become more open-minded, more respectful of each other’s beliefs. For instance, even if someone doesn’t celebrate a particular holiday, it’s common to greet others with good wishes during their religious celebrations.
We also see unity during life events—weddings, the birth of a child, and especially funerals. In times of loss, it feels like the whole community, even the entire nation, comes together to support one another. That’s when our version of uri really shines.
While religious division remains a challenge in the Middle East, I truly believe that if we could overcome it more fully, our region would be even stronger in terms of unity. Still, the mutual respect and collective spirit we already share allow us to come together when it matters most. Our uri is different from that of Korea’s, but no less powerful.
Thank you so much for this generous note, Neiven!
Your examples—from a stranger pulling up a chair at a café, to a traffic officer reading body language to help, to the way communities gather for weddings and especially funerals—taught me a lot.
It’s a vivid picture of a Middle Eastern version of “we”: hospitality as a daily invitation, and unity that shows up when it matters.
I’m grateful you also named the tensions along religious lines and the gestures of respect that bridge them (like holiday greetings). Different histories, similar heart ❤️
Uri is a fascinating concept that I find very comforting although I am not part of that Uri, I am certain.
I’m glad uri feels comforting to you. This may or may not be reassuring, but I’ve spent much of my life outside Korea and I also wonder if I’ve ever truly felt the big, headline version of uri. Among Koreans abroad there’s even a half-joking line: “Overseas, the people you need to be most careful around might be other Koreans.” I don’t love that saying, but I get why it exists. In small diaspora circles, where reputations feel fragile and opportunities feel scarce, the same fairness sensitivity that powers solidarity can curdle into gatekeeping and gossip. Any “we” can get brittle under pressure.
I’d also clarify that uri is not blood and not a passport. It is a choice to share fate with a group that also chooses you. By that definition, diaspora uri often blooms in different shapes. It can be bilingual, multilingual, hybrid, and a little messy, and that is not a flaw. That is how belonging grows.
Honestly, the place I feel uri most these days is with my neighbors from Nepal.
I introduced uri to explain Korean society, but I also believe we can root it where we live. We can indigenize it so that uri stops being something we admire from the outside and becomes something we make together.❤️
That is absolutely real. The Korean diaspora in Mexico are a love-hate community that struggle with the concept of solidarity, except when it benefits them. I get it, uri is and should be more of “I belong to these people and I will stand by them whenever they need me.” But, humans…sigh….