Bangtan Herman Notes: Arirang is Light and Love Songs in Times of Loss and Tension

Bangtan Herman Notes: BTS Arirang's Message in the Track List

 

Bangtan Herman Notes: Arirang and the Return of Folk Philosophy in Pop

When BTS foregrounds Arirang in their season of return, it becomes a slow and quiet radical gesture toward sustained artistic authorship.

In the humanities, we are taught that folklore is not ornamental. It is structure for memory to dwell in held in rhythm. It is philosophy carried in story.

When J.K. Rowling inserted The Tale of the Three Brothers into Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, she was not merely world-building. She was constructing a moral architecture inside the novel. The folktale framed the ethical questions of power, death, and humility. It became the spine of the story.

When Candy Gourlay invoked Bernardo Carpio in Tall Story, she did not use folklore as exotic color. She used it as metaphor for diaspora, for invisibility, for the longing to be seen. The folktale becomes a binding thread for migration, body, and belonging. By doing so, Gourlay created access for readers to sit with complexity.

Folklore, when used well, carries philosophy that we can understand in relation to the world.

And now, BTS turns to Arirang.

This is not nostalgia but positioning a complex idea.

Arirang is Korea’s most enduring folk song. It has carried grief, labor, migration, colonization, separation, and hope across generations. It exists in multiple regional variations because folk songs survive through adaptation. They are not fixed. They are gathered.

So when BTS centers Arirang for their comeback album, something shifts.

In a hyper-capitalist music industry where albums are products and rollouts are spectacles, choosing a folk song as anchor reorients the frame. A folk song is not owned. It is carried. It does not explode; it gathers. It does not demand attention; it accumulates voices.

And the promotional campaign mirrors the form.

Instead of loud saturation marketing, we are asked: “What is your love song?”

Spotify playlists inspired by fan voting. Public installations. Slow reveals.

A sense of unfolding rather than unveiling.

This is not absence of promotion. It is alignment between form and function.

A folk song gathers before it is sung fully by the community.

What we are witnessing is not marketing confusion. It is humanities thinking inside pop strategy. There is something profoundly human about this. Folklore reminds us that culture precedes commerce. Stories belong to people before they belong to platforms. Identity is inherited, not manufactured.

In this sense, Arirang becomes philosophical.

It asks: What do we carry forward? What binds us across difference? How does a song become a people?

And perhaps most radically: What happens when a global pop group chooses to root its comeback in local knowledge rather than global validation?

I remember asking ARMY Daughter this question. She said, “They do not need validation. You wrote once that BTS, all seven, have become auteurs.”

And I circle back to the GQ article last Feb. 14 where Namjoon said this, “I think it’s time for us to move beyond astonishing people and think again about what kind of message we can send to people.”

This is why the moment feels different. They are entering this era of return as authors of their own artistic identity.

BTS is not merely referencing folklore. They are activating it as living philosophy. And in a way, it is phenomenological. They are reminding us that pop music can still be a vessel for collective memory that springs from interiority. They trust that fandom can be a site of cultural participation, not only consumption.

As a Filipino who works with folktales, who believes stories hold us before we hold them, I find this fascinating. Because folklore has always been about survival. Folklore carry what empire cannot erase and singing them even when the stage is gone.

If Rowling used a folktale to construct the moral spine of a fantasy series, and Gourlay used legend to hold together questions of diaspora and belonging, then what BTS is doing with Arirang is similarly architectural.

They are not borrowing folklore for ornament. They are grounding themselves in it. And us, too. We are ARMYRANG.

To center Arirang at this stage of their career is to situate their artistic identity within a collective inheritance. It signals that aesthetic is not confined to visuals and styling, or performance alone. Aesthetic can be structural. It can be philosophical. It can be rooted.

In this way, BTS joins a lineage of storytellers who understand that folklore is not backward-looking nostalgia, but forward-facing. It establishes who speaks, from where, and toward whom.

And perhaps that is the quiet radicalism of this moment: a global pop group choosing to anchor its return not in expansion, but in origin. Not in astonishment, but in articulation of their inheritance and coming back to ARMY as Seven. 

The Disaster Ready Kids Series for World Defence Month

This World Civil Defence Month, we begin at home.

The Disaster Ready Kids series includes:

Fire! (Sunog!)

Earthquake! (Lindol!)

Flood (Baha)

Volcanic Eruption (Pagputok ng Bulkan)

Written by Zarah C. Gagatiga

Illustrated by Juno Abreu

Published by Lampara Books, 2025

These stories turn safety lessons into empowering conversations — helping children prepare mentally, emotionally, and practically for emergencies.

Because preparedness begins with understanding.

Copies will be on sale at the forthcoming Philippine Book Festival 2026 at SM Megamall, March 12, 13, 14 and 15, 2026.

#WorldCivilDefenceMonth

#DisasterReadyKids

#PreparedNotPanicked

#mediaandinformationliteracy

Book Review: Let Them by Mel Robbins

 

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Writing Workshop: Children's Story Writing

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Reading for Care: Taking Perspective with Wild Geese

Inspired by our continuing practice of attention, today we turn to a poem that widens the frame gently. All you need is a copy of the poem, a pen and 10-20 minutes quiet time.

A Gentle Note Before You Begin

This space is for reading and reflection. It is not therapy. You are free to pause or step away at any time. Take what feels steady and leave the rest.

Arrival

Before reading, look up from your screen. Notice something beyond you: the sky, ceiling, window light, a plant, a distant sound. Take three slow breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Let your shoulders drop.

Encounter the Poem

Read Wild Geese slowly once. Read it again, even more slowly. Let the words move through you without trying to agree or disagree.

Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

When Literature Widens the Frame

Journal Prompts

1. What line felt like it was speaking directly to you?

2. Where does the poem shift your perspective: from self-judgment to belonging, from isolation to connection?

3. What image in the poem makes you feel part of something larger than yourself?

4. Is there a sentence you might carry with you today?

Write gently. You do not need to explain.

Perspective Practice

Mary Oliver does not solve anything in this poem. She simply reminds us.

Notice:

• Where does the poem soften your inner voice?

• Where does it enlarge your sense of place?

Taking perspective does not mean dismissing your feelings. It means seeing them within a wider sky.

Extending the Experience (Optional)

If you wish:

• Step outside for five minutes and look up.

• Write one sentence beginning with: You do not have to…

• Send the poem to someone who may need its steadiness.

May you remember that you belong to the family of things.