[Jang Eunsu's World Through Books] Homo Fideliti

In Uncertain Times, What We Need Most Is the Power to Solve Problems—Not Just Fortune-Telling
Relying on Saju, Tarot, and Good Luck Goods, But Ultimately, Life Changes Through Action

It is the era of fortune-telling. Street fortune-teller shops line up in front of subway stations, tarot cafes are popular in busy areas, and fortune-telling applications (apps) are trending online. The recently held "Fortune Expo" was also a great success. With the concept of "reading the weather of your life and collecting good luck," the expo attracted 13,000 visitors over four days, where people had their Saju (Four Pillars of Destiny) read, consulted with physiognomists, and checked their fortunes in areas such as employment, wealth, and love.

So-called "Lucky Goods," which claim to boost one's luck, are also gaining popularity. Items such as dried pollack keyrings to ward off bad luck, five-element bracelets, Sokotture entrance bells, goblin money batons, and lucky owl figurines—said to block negative energy and bring good fortune—are being attached to bags and placed throughout homes. In particular, participation and enthusiasm are high among people in their 20s and 30s. For these individuals, "hip fortune-telling" is partly for fun, but also stems from a desire to understand their own fate and prepare for the future. According to one survey, 62.3% of this generation have used fortune-telling, Saju, or tarot services to relieve anxiety, find direction, or out of curiosity.

Companies and public institutions are also joining the fortune-telling craze. Ediya Coffee has held lucky talisman events, Korea Minting, Security Printing & ID Card Operating Corp. has released money pollack magnets, and the National Museum of Korea has introduced Sugudarani talismans. Broadcasting stations are no exception. On tvN's variety show "You Quiz," a physiognomist appeared at the start of the year and said, "If you make the same wish three times, it will come true," sparking a climbing craze on Gwanaksan Mountain. Recently, when Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang appeared on the show, his physiognomy was also read. Taboo topics, previously dismissed as superstition and avoided in the public sphere, seem no longer to exist.

It is ironic that this surge in fortune-telling is occurring in an era characterized by big data and artificial intelligence (AI), which represent the zenith of scientific and rational thinking. Unlike AI, the pinnacle of reason, fortune-telling is rooted in magical (or ritualistic) ways of thinking. According to "A History of Magic" by Oxford professor Chris Gosden, humanity has always sought to overcome the unknown and change their lives by blending three modes of thinking: religion, science, and magic.

When people fall ill, even religious leaders or shamans first seek out proven scientific treatments to cure the disease. However, science does not answer the question, "Why do I have to suffer?" Nor can it provide guidance on what to do when the illness is so severe that medicine fails or surgery is useless. At best, science offers: "Prepare yourself emotionally..." This is precisely when prayer, rituals, or inviting deities become relevant. It's no coincidence that the oldest story in the Old Testament is about Job, who weeps in sickness. When rational inquiry cannot provide answers about the unknown, religious or magical thinking awakens.

Anxiety is a hallmark of modern society. Despite the dazzling advancement of material civilization and abundant prosperity, people often feel they have lost themselves, feel abandoned by the world, and live in fear of existential collapse. Life for the Millennial and Gen Z generations is bleak. Good jobs are increasingly scarce, and even available positions often require irregular employment. Meanwhile, housing prices soar, making it hard to find a place to settle. When one is unsure how to be respected as an individual within the community, anxiety can consume them.

Fortune-telling provides young people suffering from internal turmoil with self-understanding and suggests ways to escape misfortune and bad luck. While institutional religions such as Christianity, Buddhism, and Catholicism remain silent, magical practices have found their way into the hearts of young people. As a result of this neglect, institutional religions have also lost their future. According to Gallup Korea, by 2025, only 40% of adults said they currently have a religion, down from a peak of 54% in 2004, with the rate declining almost every year. The proportion of believers among those in their twenties and youth aged 13 to 18 is only 24% and 17%, respectively. Institutional religions are rapidly turning into communities of the elderly.

Spirituality is an inner capability that transforms in the way one desires the self to become. It is always alive and vibrant within those who seek a better life. Hardship nurtures spirituality. Where frustration, pain, anxiety, and despair dominate life and the path forward is unclear, spirituality inevitably exists. When institutional religions care for the socially vulnerable and present and practice a good path in life, magical practices weaken.

However, in Korea, institutional religions have distanced themselves from the suffering of young people by obsessing over dogmatic doctrines, collective rituals, growth in membership, hereditary succession of wealth, and massive commemorative constructions. Magic has filled this void. Fortune-telling, talismanic, and doll rituals reflect the desire to change one's life by borrowing the energy of the universe. Fortune-tellers sit knee-to-knee with young people to listen to their pain, while talismans are used to change their stifling reality. Doll rituals, such as keyrings attached to bags, are believed to block negative energy and lift spirits. Millennials and Gen Z have lightly shifted their spiritual practices from religion to magic. Korea's unique tradition of wishing for blessings has influenced this trend.

According to "The Worshippers, Homo Fidelis" by Han Min (published by Jeonyeokdal), Korean spirituality is secular. The ideology of Hongik Ingan, or "benefiting all mankind," in the Dangun mythology, well illustrates the fundamental nature of Korean spirituality. Whereas Siberian shamans emphasize sanctification and entering the world of spirits, Korean shamans focus on Cheongsin—inviting the gods by riding a straw cutter and resolving wishes. Gods do not descend just anywhere; only the utmost sincerity moves them. People place purified water, pray for one hundred days at dawn, climb mountain paths through snow, and bow with devotion.

Interestingly, unlike older generations who demonstrate extreme sincerity, young people today try to "summon" gods by purchasing products or services with money. In "Selling Spirituality," British theologian Jeremy Carrette, a professor at the University of Edinburgh, describes this as a hallmark of spirituality in the neoliberal era. As spirituality becomes subsumed into the capitalist market as consumer goods, it loses its socially critical power, transforming into a private service that offers psychological comfort, mindfulness, and solutions to secular problems. The characteristic of spiritual products is that they redirect the resolution of suffering from social structural reform to strengthening one's innate energy or inner change.

The personal narratives provided by fortune-telling unquestionably have the power to calm inner anxieties and encourage self-reflection. However, it is action that shapes the mind. If enjoyed only for fun, there is a risk of falling into fatalistic resignation and losing the ability to actively solve real-world problems. It is always better to believe that answers still remain in this world. Based on spirituality aimed at becoming a better person, the effort to solve problems with courage through political and social action should come first.

Jang Eunsu, Publishing Culture Critic

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.