Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Screening this Saturday of Jeong Jae-eun's 2001 film "Take Care of My Cat"

This Saturday, March 7, at 2pm, the Royal Asiatic Society Cinema Club and Seoul Film Society will have a free screening of the 2001 Jeong Jae-eun film "Take Care of My Cat" (고양이를 부탁해) with English subtitles at Seoul Global Center's Haechi Hall, on the 5th Floor of M Plaza in Myeong-dong.

When readers of Koreanfilm.org were asked years ago which film they thought best captured the ‘feel’ of South Korea, the film that repeatedly came up was ‘Take Care of My Cat.’ Set in Incheon and Seoul, the film chronicles the lives of a group of friends — five young women from different economic backgrounds and family situations — a year after they graduate from high school, showing the changes and difficulties they face in both their friendships and the working world. Though the film did not do well at the box office and was soon pulled from screens, a letter-writing campaign by its fans managed to get it back into theaters, and the film won many awards.

After the screening, the film's director, Jeong Jae-eun, will take part in a 90-minute Interview and Question and Answer session after the screening. After directing two features and several shorts, director Jeong moved to directing documentaries, including "Talking Architect" (2012), about celebrated maverick Korean architect Chung Guyon (a trailer is here) and "City:Hall" (2013), which examined the creative and political pressures that affected the controversial design of Seoul's new City Hall (a review is here).

While the screening is free, the there will be an admission fee (of perhaps 7,000 won) for the interview with the director to cover the cost of the interpreter, etc.

1. 2pm to 2:10pm – My introduction
2. 2:10pm to 4pm – Film screening
3. 4pm to 4:10pm – Interval
4. 4:10pm to 5:40pm – Interview and Question and Answer with Director Jeong Jae-eun.

Directions to Seoul Global Center's Haechi Hall can be found here and here, and more information about the film is here , and the screening, here.

Monday, March 02, 2015

Lawmaker criticizes textbooks for correctly describing the violence of the Samil protests

An article in today's Joongang Daily declares in its headline that "Textbooks do disservice to March 1 movement."
Rep. Han Sun-kyo, a lawmaker of the ruling Saenuri Party, told the JoongAng Ilbo on Thursday that he analyzed Korean and Japanese history textbooks he received from the Seoul-based think tank Northeast Asian History Foundation and Korea’s Ministry of Education and found the results troubling.

He said a “considerable number of Japanese history textbooks are distorting the facts or minimizing the significance of the March 1 Independence Movement.”

March 1, 1919, remains a touchstone of Korean nationalism as the day when activists declared Korea’s independence and triggered large-scale peaceful demonstrations against Japanese colonial rule (1910-1945).

One Japanese middle school history textbook published by Jiyusa says the March 1 independence movement in Seoul “initially was planned as a non-violent rally but gradually became a large-scale movement,” and that “the army was mobilized and because of a clash on both sides, there were many casualties.” [...]

But Han added that Korean history textbooks also have inaccuracies, and there are many cases where they “describe the non-violent March 1 movement as violent” or do not mention key events or figures such as Yoo Gwan-soon’s martyrdom. [...]

According to Han’s study, half of the eight Korean high school history textbooks inaccurately described the independence movement as being “violent.” Three other textbooks failed to describe the movement adequately.

He found that only one publisher, Chunjae Education, explained the movement accurately and in detail. “As time passed, the protests grew more intense and military and police fired at people during the demonstrations, leading to deaths,” it said. The text emphasized, “The demonstrations were highly regarded internationally for holding to the principle of non-violence while trying to express resistance to Japanese imperialism.”
The problem is, the textbooks describing the independence movement as being "violent" are being accurate. While some of the Japanese dispatches during the Samil Uprising reported in the New York Times described violence on the part of demonstrators, I didn't realize just how violent the protests were until I read Frank Baldwin's "Participatory Anti-Imperalism:The 1919 Independence Movement" (Journal of Korean Studies, Volume 1, 1979, pp. 123-162). One assumes this contains some of the material in his dissertation, "The March First Movement: Korean Challenge, Japanese Response" (Columbia University, 1969). In his article, he notes that between March 1 and April 10, 1919, there were "approximately 667 peaceful demonstrations" as compared with "approximately 460 violent incidents." Here is his description of the nature of the protests:
Initially the demonstrations were nonviolent, partly to enhance the moral appeal of the protest and partly because of the vastly superior Japanese police and army forces. The usual pattern of demonstrations was that activists assembled a crowd and a local leader read the declaration of independence. The crowd roared its approval and then marched around the area shouting for Korean liberty.

As the independence movement spread and intensified, however, its character changed into often violent confrontation. This was a response to the severe, frequently brutal suppression of the protest by the Government General, which included firing on unarmed crowds and torture of prisoners. In many areas, a peaceful demonstration was suppressed by the authorities with force, and resulted in violent counterattacks on police and gendarmes. In other areas, frustrations, anger, and pent-up grievances turned peaceful demonstrations violent even without official provocation. In still other cases, tension from sustained demonstrations and confrontations, probably exacerbated by official violence, erupted into assaults on Government General personnel and facilities. In late March and early April, parts of Korea were in open, bloody rebellion. Governor General Hasegawa Yoshimichi requested troop reinforcements

During March and April the first stage of the 1919 movement occurred—the overt and violent period. Hundreds of thousands of Koreans engaged in open political actions ranging from lusty shouts for freedom to intrepid assaults on Government General outposts and vengeful mutilation of unlucky Kenpeitai, the Japanese gendarmerie. The second stage of the movement began in May and lasted until about April, 1920. During this stage, the independence activists changed their form of political activity from overt protest to covert planning and organizing, mostly in support of the Korean provisional government formed in Shanghai on April 10, 1919. The presence of additional troops from Japan, mass-arrest tactics, and stringent security measures made open protest activity unfeasible if not impossible.
Before those additional troops arrived, however, the Government General was hard pressed to maintain control and protect its staff, settlers, and infrastructure:
The Government General juggled the available troops, withdrawing some from North and South P'yöng'an and Hwanghae, now regarded as safe, and assigned them to southern Korea, where the violence was rapidly spreading. On March 25 eight infantry companies were spread thinly over five southern provinces—North and South Kyöngsang, North and South Cholla, and South Ch'ungch'öng. The assignment was made with the hope that they would only be needed until March 30. But the Koreans kept up their attacks. Crowds formed everywhere in Seoul, stoning police stations and trolley cars. In five villages near Seoul, myön chiefs were threatened and myön offices attacked. In many places Koreans armed themselves with clubs and stones and attacked the closest police station or my on office. March 27 and 28 were frantic, tragic days as Koreans attacked in many localities only to be beaten off by troops and suffer heavy casualties. Thirty nine Koreans were killed in a single incident in Kyönggi Province. The governor general authorized new troop assignments on the 28th but the attacks continued. On March 31 Koreans armed with clubs, sickles, and other improvised weapons stormed gendarmerie units and police stations at several places in Kyönggi Province. They attempted, sometimes successfully, to burn the local public buildings—myön offices, post offices, police stations—and cut telephone lines. In one place the crowd tried to burn the stores of Japanese merchants. Many Koreans were killed and wounded in the assaults. Despite heavy casualties and against seemingly hopeless Koreans continued the fight. [...] April 2 was perhaps the bloodiest single day of the independence movement as Koreans continued their attacks on gendarmerie units, police stations, myön offices and school buildings. Demonstration marches were a thing of the past: these crowds were prepared to fight.
Below is a list of casualties on the Japanese side:

In a lengthy recounting of a violent protest in Sacheon, Pyeongannam-do on March 4, which Baldwin describes as a "typical demonstration that began peacefully and ended in violence," three Korean police officers are reported as being killed in addition to a Japanese police officer, which makes clear that the numbers above do not include Korean Government General employees, suggesting that more people died than are listed. Most ironic in the assertion that the Samil Protests were peaceful is this statement by Baldwin:
Because of continued Korean violence, the Government General requested troops from Japan, which served to further discredit Japanese rule in the colony and provided additional incentive for the Hara administration in Tokyo to make reforms. Violent forms of participation appear to have been most important in changing Japanese policy.
Additionally, the Jeam-ri massacre (looked at here) is better explained as the culmination of escalating violence on both sides rather than an out-of-the-blue mass killing by the (evil) Japanese.

The tale of "peaceful Samil demonstrations" serves the cause of depicting Koreans as a peaceful people beset upon by marauding outsiders; that is to say, victims with no responsibility for their actions. What better way to depict this fairy tale than a children's book about Yu Gwan-sun from the 한국 위인 전집 (Great people of Korea Collection) published by 노벨과 개미(looked at in more detail here):

Evil Japanese:



Peaceful, victimized Koreans:




Returning to the Joongang Daily article:
Han also found that only one publisher, Jihak Publishing, described the patriot [Yoo Gwan-sun] in its text. In contrast, four out of seven Japanese contemporary history textbooks included Yoo.
The omission of Yu Gwan-sun from Korean textbooks is rather interesting. She's become an icon of the independence movement, much as Sin Mi-seon and Sim Hyo-sun became icons for those protesting the presence of USFK in Korea. Here is a poster which was once on the wall of the Yu Gwan-sun Underground Cell building at Seodaemun Prison:



Can you imagine any of the male icons of the Korean independence movement being depicted in this way? Besides being the oddly cheerful face of the fight for independence, she's often depicted as the embodiment of victimization (and thus embodies Korea throughout its entire history, according to some nationalist takes on Korean history). Here she is in the 'Great people of Korea Collection' book about her:



She also helps sell chicken, apparently (from 2005):

"Eat Ddorae Orae Chicken and protect our land, Dokdo!"

The final paragraph of the Joongang Daily article offers this short biography of Yu:
Yoo (1902-1920) was a prominent independence movement activist who was one of the organizers of the March 1 movement. She eventually faced torture at the hands of Japanese officers and died in prison in September 1920. When her family asked for her body to be returned to them, Yoo’s body was returned cut into pieces.
In truth, most of the "organizers" of the movement offered themselves up for arrest after reading the declaration on March 1, essentially robbing the movement of its most respected leaders at its very inception. Yoo certainly organized protests in Cheonan after leaving the Ehwa school girl for girls, but is more likely remembered because she was a student at a prominent missionary school, and because she is the perfect symbol of innocence brutally snuffed out by the brutal Japanese. The main problem I have with the paragraph above, however, is that she was certainly not "cut into pieces." As is described by Jeannette Walter, an English teacher at Ehwa, in Donald Clark's "Living Dangerously in Korea (The Western Experience 1900-1950),"
Yu Kwansoon, a little sixteen-year-old girl, died in prison. We had her body brought back to the school, and the girls prepared cotton garments for her burial. [...] However, when I was in Korea in 1959, I was interviewed by a group from Kwansoon's school, and I assured them on tape that her body was not mutilated. I had dressed her for burial.
One wonders if it is Rep. Han Sun-kyo or the Joongang Daily that is responsible for that canard once again being trotted out. A disservice may be have been done to the memory of the Samil Movement, but I'm not convinced its the textbook makers who are responsible.

Tuesday, February 03, 2015

'Ode to My Father' with English subtitles tomorrow

For those wanting to see 'Ode to my Father,' which I reviewed here (and looked at the history it depicts here), it will play with English subtitles at two CGV locations tomorrow (perhaps for the last time?):

Yeouido CGV, Feb 4, 7pm
Sinchon Artreon CGV, Feb 4, 7:55 pm

Friday, January 30, 2015

Stigma prevents hero's welcome for Ebola medics

A column in the Chosun Ilbo criticized the lack of hero's welcome given to the first group of nine Korean medical workers who returned from treating Ebola patients in Sierra Leone for the last month. This is contrasted with America's response, where such workers were lauded as heroes by President Obama and selected as Person of the Year 2014 by Time Magazine. As is pointed out in the column, however,
Korea's medical workers were not just denied a hero's welcome -- they had to return home quietly due to fears that they and their family members would be treated as pariahs, shunned by a panic-stricken public, and asked for their identities not to be disclosed.
In fact, photos in articles about the doctors leaving for Africa in mid-December only show the doctors from behind. At first thought, this is very reminiscent of Korean attitudes towards people living with HIV/AIDS - see here, for example. But the more I think about it, I can think of other such examples, such as the way in which the children of people who were pro-North Korea were denied government jobs and other opportunities before the 1990s, or the way in which no student in school wants to associate with a child targeted as a "wangtta," fearing being tainted by the association, often leading to total isolation*, or - in a more humorous instance - the blogger Lost Nomad years ago wrote about how he could always get a great parking spot in his apartment building because no one wanted to park next to a particular, "dirty" car. Such stigma, and fear of "guilt by association," is troubling, to be sure.



* Years ago a student I got along well with one year became a wangtta the next year for several months, and though I talked to her previous and current home room teachers about the situation, and they knew who was responsible, they didn't seem to be able to do anything about it. It was heartbreaking to see the way in which she changed from a bubbly and outgoing to withdrawn and sullen.


Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Groove 100th issue fundraiser

Partly since I'm interviewed in this, I'm passing this on (though today is the last day of the gofundme campaign):
Groove Korea is celebrating its 100th issue in February! Thank you for 100 months of supporting Korea’s longest-running free expat community magazine.

Next month’s commemorative issue, our biggest ever, celebrates the expats who made a difference to their community and to Korea. Our volunteer writers and photographers have spent eight months hard at work on it. It is thick, shiny and expensive to print. To get this issue into the hands of the community, we need your help.

If you donate just $5, we will send one issue to your mailbox. If we meet our $5,000 (5 million won) target, we will match the cost and print 5,000 extra copies for the public, to be available at our regular locations in Seoul. (We’ll publish a list of our locations on groovekorea.com.)

Plus, we’ll thank you for supporting us with higher donations with a commemorative poster and admission to our Groove 100th issue party @ DGBD in Hongdae on Feb. 7, featuring Part Time Cooks, HarryBigButton, Magna Fall, JoshRoy and Ssighborggggestra! (Party info here)

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

The history depicted in "Ode To My Father"

In my previous post, I reviewed and offered an interpretation of the recent film "Ode To My Father (국제시장)." Along the way to writing the post I did quite a bit of reading about the events portrayed in the film, so below I will look at how the film followed (or didn't) the historical facts.

While the scene of a Korean begging the American general to save the refugees at Hungnam is not really what happened, it accords with the basic facts. Several accounts point to Dr. Hyun Bong-hak as being in great part responsible for the evacuation of almost 100,000 refugees from Hungnam. As this brief biographical entry about him describes it, he was from Hamheung and studied medicine at Severance Medical School before studying in the U.S. in the late 1940s. When the Korean War broke out, he headed south, treated wounded civilians, and volunteered his services as a translator for the U.S. Military, who asked him to work for the commander of the US X Army Corps in Hamheung. As his children described him in a recent Korea Herald article:
During the Korean War, our father served as a civil affairs Adviser to Maj. Gen. Edward M. Almond to help rebuild Hamheung, North Korea. Christianity had a strong foothold in Hamheung, so when the Americans liberated Hamheung from the communists, they were embraced by the locals.

Shortly thereafter, the U.N. forces began to retreat. This was disastrous for the Christians, local government leaders and anyone working for the U.N. Forces, as all would be tortured and massacred by the communists. Our father advocated for a civilian evacuation, stating, “It didn’t seem fair to me that those who had risked communist retaliation by cooperating with the Americans should be abandoned so readily.”

He received constant encouragement from Col. Edward R. Forney, the foremost amphibious expert at the time who masterfully plotted out how the evacuation would be implemented; and together, they met with Gen. Almond several times. Gen. Almond approved of the mission with a planned evacuation of 4,000-5,000 civilians from Hamheung to Heungnam by train.

The Hamheung railroad station was flooded with more than 50,000 people. Over 100,000 arrived at Heungnam Port circumventing the roads, which were reserved for military personnel and closely monitored by MPs. Blankets and rice were given to the refugees who remained at the port in minus 10 degrees Celsius weather.

The Meredith Victory was the last ship to leave the Heungnam Harbor, which was rife with mines. Designed to carry 12 passengers with a 47-person crew, it brought 14,000 refugees to safety and ultimately made it into the Guinness World Records as “the largest evacuation from land by a single ship.” The port was blown up to render it useless to the communist forces. Many civilians who should have been evacuated were left behind.
It's interesting that this account refers to many being left behind, while American accounts I've read describe getting all of the refugees out. For statistics, as this article notes,
At the finish a total of 105,000 US and ROK military personnel had been embarked and 91,000 civilian refugees. The statistics of supplies and equipment were equally impressive—17,500 vehicles and 350,000 measurement tons of cargo loaded out of Hungnam on 6 APA, 6 AKA, 12 TAP, 76 time-charter ships, 81 LST, and 11 LSD loads.
As for the aforementioned Meredith Victory, it appears in the movie as the ship they escape on. As it turns out, there is not only a book about this voyage - during which 5 babies were born - there is also a documentary that can be watched here, and a monument to the Hungnam evacuation which features a model of the Meredith Victory was unveiled in 2005 on Geoje-do, where the ship unloaded the refugees. This article also points to Maryknoll Father Patrick H. Cleary, a missionary in Korea who joined X Corps as a chaplain, as someone who contributed to the refugee rescue effort. What should be clear is that yes, there was a Korean who asked an American general to evacuate the refugees, but it certainly didn't happen at the last minute once the Americans were aboard and ready to leave, which makes them appear more callous than they were. This contributes to a social Darwinist view of the world as a harsh place in which Korea was the 'shrimp among [Chinese and American] whales' and had to beg the (initially cold and unwilling) Americans for help in order to survive.

Years after the war, once Deok-su had grown into a young man who worked as a labourer to support his family, he is convinced by his friend Dal-gu to apply to work in West Germany as miners, where they could make lots of money. These "workers sent to Germany" (padok nodongja) are examined in an article by Kim Won titled "Memories of Migrant Labor : Stories of Two Korean Nurses Dispatched to West Germany" [The Review of Korean Studies, 12(4), 2009.12, 111-151]. As the article notes,
In the case of mine workers, padok started in 1963 and continued until 1978. Until 1980, the Deutchemarks that a total of 7,936 padok miners and 10,032 padok nurses remitted to Korea were an important means of “foreign exchange earnings” (oehwa beori) and for solving the domestic labor surplus problem before the advent of a loan economy (cha-gwan gyeongje). At present [2009], about 5,000 out of the over 20,000 padok workers continue to live in Germany, and some 5,000 padok workers eventually chose to immigrate to the Americas. Among Korean residents in Germany, the number of nurses is said to be about 500 today. The last Korean miner retired in 2003.
The article also adds that in 1967, "padok workers’ remittances to Korea represented 36 percent of the total foreign exchange holdings of the country." It wasn't only men working as coal miners who worked in West Germany, however. Deok-su soon meets and falls in love with Yeong-ja, who is working as a nurse there. As the above article notes, Korean women were initially, in 1959, sent to Germany to study nursing for three years and then could work as nurses there. Then in 1966 a new phase began with the sending of nurses already trained in Korea to Germany, which was initially organized by a medical organization and coordinated by the Korean Foreign Development Corporation. These were all organized through civilian, medical, or Christian organizations, however and it wasn't until August 1969 that an agreement between South Korea and West Germany on the hiring of nurses was signed, and a quota was set. Prior to this agreement, 2,080 nurses had worked in Germany, and numbers increased a great deal in the ensuing years, as per the article:

In the end, some 18,000 Koreans worked as coal miners or nurses in West Germany and their earnings in foreign currency contributed a great deal to the growth of the Korean economy.

Another very large contribution to the Korean economy's growth was the Vietnam war, and Deok-su is depicted going to Vietnam with his friend Dal-gu to work as contractors and make lots of money. Over 300,000 Korean soldiers fought in the war, leaving behind a legacy, literally, of Korean-Vietnamese children abandoned by their fathers, as well as a reputation for brutality. In addition to these soldiers being paid in U,S. dollars, South Korea also benefited in many other ways from the Vietnam War (much as Japan did from the Korean War), as pointed out in "America's rented troops: South Koreans in Vietnam," by Frank Baldwin, which was published in the Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars Volume 7 Number 4, and is available as a pdf here (pages 33-40):
The major forms of U.S. commercial assistance were procurement of war supplies in South Korea and construction/service contracts for R.O.K. firms in Vietnam. Among the major South Korean exports to Vietnam were military uniforms, jungle boots, corrugated metal roofing and cement. In the construction and service field, at one point more than eighty South Korean companies held contracts with the U.S. government in Vietnam. Their activities included construction and engineering, transportation of goods, and operating service facilities such as laundry shops and entertainment clubs. South Korean civilian workers in Vietnam were especially well rewarded. According to U.S. government estimates, there were sixteen thousand South Korean foreign contract workers in Vietnam (of a total of twenty-five thousand). Their annual earnings were $8,400-compared to an average of about $200 in South Korea.

ROK troops pulled out in March 1973, though the Korean military did send a ship to rescue South Koreans from Vietnam in 1975 as Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese. As described in "The Pursuit of State Status and the Shift toward International Norms: South Korea’s Evolution as a Host Country for Refugees," by Hans Schattle and Jennifer McCann, published in Journal of Refugee Studies (2014) 27 (3) (pgs 317-337):
The influx of Indochinese asylum seekers into South Korea began with the April 30, 1975 evacuation from Vietnam of a group of South Korean nationals, their non-South Korean family members, and a number of primarily Indochinese refugees by a South Korean military vessel (Korean Red Cross Busan Chapter 1993). In the absence of appropriate domestic legislation, the government treated arrivals on an ad hoc basis, setting up a temporary shelter in the port city of Busan. By the end of 1975, officials had managed to settle the 1,562 Indochinese refugees by encouraging female Indochinese refugees married to or in a common-law relationship with a South Korean national at the time of their arrival, to become naturalized citizens or by granting them a continuous permission of sojourn as a stateless person (South Korea did not officially recognize Vietnam at this time) (I. Chung 2009). By contrast, the 977 refugees without such ties to Korean nationals were quickly resettled in third countries (Korean Red Cross Busan Chapter 1993). Then in 1977 a new wave of Indochinese refugees poured into the South China Sea. However, unlike the refugees evacuated in 1975, the government perceived arrivals less as victims of political persecution than as so-called economic migrants (I. Chung 2009), and therefore responded by securitizing arrivals.
It goes on to explain that the ROK went out of its way to stop its ships from picking up Indochinese "boat people," firing a captain who did so and confining those boat people who did arrive to a newly built 'Vietnamese people’s relief center'. "Although criticized for such an approach (Koh 2011), officials pressed hard for third-country resettlement, and as a result, not a single Indochinese refugee who arrived between 1977 and 1989 was permitted to settle in South Korea."

I first became aware of the presence of Vietnamese refugees a few years ago when reading through Korea Herald articles from late 1975 and early 1976. Here is one from December 17, 1975:



Here is another from January 31, 1976:


As mentioned in the previous post, in 1983 KBS broadcast the TV show, "Reuniting Separated Families," planning only to do a single broadcast, but when it proved successful it continued for over four months and led to the reunion of over 10,000 separated families (episodes can be watched here).
The Korea Bang post linked to above says that the reason it took so long for such a reunion show to happen was that the government was too busy developing the country to care much about divided families, and that it was only by the 1980s that enough people had televisions for such a show to be effective. This misses an important factor, I think. Under the anti-communist governments of Syngman Rhee and Park Chung-hee, admitting that you had relatives that might be in North Korea was likely enough to make the authorities suspect your loyalty.

Hopefully the above information proves helpful for those who have seen "Ode To My Father" and wanted to learn more about the history it depicts.

Monday, January 19, 2015

A review of "Ode To My Father"

Youn Je-Kyoun's film "Ode to My Father" [국제시장, or 'International Market'] has become the first film this year to top ten million admissions after its release on December 17. I saw the film new year's eve, and it didn't exactly leave viewers in a cheerful mood afterwards. It's a sad film that depicts several events in Korea's modern history through the eyes of one man who sacrifices to take care of his family after the loss of his father during the Korean War. Despite melodramatic excess and some other flaws, it's an interesting film for many reasons, and is well worth watching. (The following review is full of spoilers.)



The film begins in the present and introduces three elderly characters: Deok-su, his wife Yeong-ja, and his best friend Dal-gu. Deok-su runs a store in the international market in Busan, and we follow him as he interacts with: developers who want him to sell his store (he refuses); his adult children (who seem entitled and dump the grandchildren on him and his wife so they can travel); and his memories of the past. These flashbacks reveal that he has participated in some of the more dramatic touchstones of Korea's modern history, starting with the evacuation of UN forces and North Korean refugees from Hungnam during the Korean War, the dispatch to West Germany of Koreans to work as nurses and coal miners, the large role played by Korean civilian contractors and soldiers during the Vietnam War, and the 1983 KBS TV show "Reuniting Separated Families," which was so successful in its first live broadcast that it continued for over four months and led to the reunion of over 10,000 separated families, most of whom had been living in South Korea since the war. In many ways it is like Forrest Gump, in that Deoksu takes part in these historical events and interacts with a number of famous Koreans during these flashbacks.

Director Youn has a flair for integrating the smaller, personal stories with the large scale of some of these historical events, and the actors do an admirable job of portraying characters who age over a 50 year period, though this is definitely a tale of men - after their romance leads to marriage, Yeong-ja fades into the background, and we're left with the tale of the sacrifices made for his family by a son, a brother, and a father. Still, for all these strengths the film doesn't have a lot of narrative depth; the film proceeds by repeatedly presenting a scene in the present which triggers a flashback. The audience does have certain pieces of information withheld from it, and certain flashbacks serve to explain why he acts in inexplicable ways in the present. We also see Deok-su change after reflecting on the past, and the film at times implicitly criticizes the younger generations of today for being too self-centered and unappreciative of the sacrifices their elders made. As the Korea Times noted, "One critic caused controversy by calling Youn's latest film a 'conservative' movie that 'glorifies the sacrifices of the older generation.'" "Glorifies" seems too strong a word, partly since the criticisms it makes - often through juxtaposition of past and present, seem fair enough. The film does lay on the melodrama pretty thickly, in the way only a Korean movie can, though the reunion scene on the KBS TV show set in 1983 was guaranteed to bring the audience to tears regardless of the way it was presented. I was reminded of when I saw the 2004 documentary 'Repatriation' and a fellow audience member said to me, "It really does remind you that we're sitting on an open wound."

For all of its blockbuster and melodramatic elements, there is a lot to unpack with this film, and I thought I'd look at its depiction of history and the way in which the film imagines how Korea's role in the world has changed during fifty years of economic development.

The aforementioned Korea Times article mentions that director "Youn also became the first director with two films to top 10 million. 'Haeundae,' a disaster film released in 2009, attracted 11.45 million viewers the same year." A few years ago I looked at Youn's film Haeundae, which I hadn't realized did so well at the box office. I didn't like it, but thought its crashing wave provided an excellent metaphor for the way in which Korean films of the 2000s have dealt with Korean history, portraying people as blamelessly going about their lives when suddenly history crashes into them and sweeps them off their feet. Some of these films have blamed outsiders (such as when South Korean and North Koreans team up to shoot down American aircraft at the end of Welcome to Dongmakgol), and have rarely attempted to explain why the events portrayed occurred - a far cry from the history films of the 1990s. Haeundae's wave inadvertently provided a useful metaphor for these kinds of films (and one could profitably make 'Korean wave' references here, since it's the fact that Korean films (and TV dramas) are so slickly (and expensively) produced now that a larger box office is needed to recoup costs, which encourages simplistic films which appeal to a broader demographic).

It could be argued that 'Ode to my father' also follows the 'wave pattern' in certain ways. While the main character, Deok-su, works to keep a promise to his father to take care of his family (and makes sacrifices in the hope of meeting his father again), the moments in modern Korean history he takes part in occur when he follows others. He (obviously!) follows his parents when they attempt to flee Hungnam, while its his friend Dal-gu who suggests going to Germany and Vietnam. It's also made clear that the 'decision' to have a child and get married was essentially thrust upon him by his soon-to-be wife, so much of his life is shaped by others' decisions.

One thing I noted was the similarity with 'Welcome to Dongmakgol' of having a lone Korean officer beg the Americans to save Korean lives. In 'Dongmakgol' the officer protests the bombing of a village, while in 'Ode to my Father' an officer begs a general to take refugees aboard at Hungnam. In 'Ode' the general relents at the last second and the soldiers are ordered to take the tanks they just loaded aboard the ship off again, much to the anger of one profanity-shouting soldier, and refugees are put on instead. Unlike the 2004 Korean War film 'Taegukki,' in which American soldiers were not even shown, 'Ode' depicts refugees waiting by the ocean while American soldiers retreat and we're told that behind them "The Chinese are coming!" I don't remember the South or North Korean army being mentioned.

What this leaves out, however, is why these refugees were fleeing, and why filmmakers might want to gloss over the actions of the ROK military in North Korea between October and December 1950. Callum MacDonald, in his 1991 Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars article "So Terrible a Liberation - The UN Occupation of North Korea" (which can be downloaded here, and is on pages 3-19) points out how, though the ROK was not given legal sovereignty over liberated North Korea, ROK troops often were the first to arrive in the north and were followed by police and bands of paramilitaries such as the Northwest Youth League (which had carried out much of the repression in Jeju, for example; the dissertation I recently linked to also looks at the use of paramilitaries by the ROK before and during the Korean War). These paramilitaries and police were known to have killed thousands of suspected communist sympathizers after the Incheon Landing in South Korea, so one can only imagine the horror they visited upon North Koreans. As MacDonald notes,
Just before [Syngman Rhee] returned to Seoul [after the Incheon Landing] he informed Hugh Baillie, president of the U.S.-based United Press, that he planned to extirpate communism throughout Korea: "I can handle the Communists. The Reds can bury their guns and bum their uniforms, but we know how to find them. With bulldozers we will dig huge excavations and trenches, and fill them with Communists. Then cover them over. And they will really be underground."
General MacArthur offered his own take on the situation in October 1950 in a conversation with the tutor of the Japanese crown prince, Elizabeth Gray Vining:
"Each house has a North Korean flag and a South Korean flag, and most of the time they don't know which to wave. Both sides line them up and shoot them down. The country was poor to begin with. They will be destroyed, utterly destroyed."
So when the tide of the war turned, it might be easy to understand why those who championed the arrival of the UN forces - or who simply feared being caught in the middle - would want to flee. While starting the story in the middle as the family flees can be explained as wanting to get the story started quickly or due to lack of time, the lack of context, or even reference to the DPRK army or the ROK army, puts the beginning of the film squarely in the "history washed over us" camp of recent Korean films.

As well, while the 'begging for help' scene is not really what happened, it accords with the basic facts,  (to be elaborated on in my next post) which are that Dr. Hyun Bong-hak, an assistant to Maj. Gen. Edward M. Almond, commander of the US X Army Corps in Hamheung, convinced General Almond to evacuate tens of thousands of refugees along with the soldiers and equipment; when there turned out to be 100,000 refugees, attempts were made to evacuate all of them, with one ship, the Meredith Victory (which is depicted in the movie), taking 14,000 aboard, a world record.

In the film, during the evacuation, Deok-su's family is separated from his sister and father, and they go to their aunt's house in Busan, where she runs a store in the international market. In the next flashback, years after the war, Deok-su has grown into a young man who works as a labourer to support his family, and he is convinced by his friend Dal-gu to apply to work in West Germany as miners, where they can make lots of money. Germany, however, proves to be a struggle for Deok-su and Dal-gu, and the miners are all depicted as being homesick. They all cry in their bunks as they read letters from home, while Yeong-ja, a nurse Deok-su meets and falls in love with, is also depicted as having a difficult time, washing corpses and studying when she's not working. Again, this appears to be different from the memories of the nurses interviewed in the Kim Won article I cite in my next post, who saw their time in Germany as an opportunity. In fact, as the article notes, "At present [2009], about 5,000 out of the over 20,000 padok workers continue to live in Germany, and some 5,000 padok workers eventually chose to immigrate to the Americas." That over half of the 18.000 Koreans who went to work in Germany didn't return home seems to stand against this portrayal of suffering Koreans who made so many sacrifices (more sacrifices, it's implied, than those who remained in Korea).

However, I would argue that what we're being presented with in 'Ode to My Father' is in fact a national coming of age story. The presentation of Korean refugees at Hungnam as 'shrimp among whales' caught between their powerful neighbours -  Chinese and Americans - and the depiction of a Korean begging an American general to save their lives, along with a last minute decision by the general to do so, contributes to a social Darwinist view of the world as a harsh place in which a weak Korea, beset by poverty and war, must beg the (initially cold and unwilling) Americans for help in order to survive.

Once in Germany, this happens again. Koreans, forced to work hard, often shown in tears, missing home, once again beg the powerful - in this case the German head of the mine - to let them save their missing Korean compatriots who have been caught in a mine shaft collapse. Yeong-ja, in tears, begs for their mercy, switching from German to Korean - just to hammer it home for the audience - that the missing are Korean and they should at least be the ones to find their bodies. The request is denied; it's a harsh world out there. But then, in a moment of self confidence, the Korean miners eschew such dependency; they stop their crying, pick up their tools, and, taking matters into their own hands, they defy the mine owners and rescue their compatriots.

After returning from Germany, Deok-su, newly married goes to Vietnam with Dal-gu to make more money (for reasons we find out later). In Vietnam, Korea is still growing and sits between the US (Dal-gu tries to go into a club for American soldiers, and is told by Deok-su, "You can't go in there - that's for Americans!") and Vietnam, which is poorer than Korea and is going through its own civil war that Korea went through twenty years earlier. After seeing a child die in a bombing by the Vietcong, Deok-su writes to his wife, saying that he's glad it's their generation that had to go through this suffering, and not that of their children. At the end of their time in Vietnam, Deok-su and Dal-gu are rescued from the Vietcong by an ROK military unit which is about to blow up a pier and leave, only to find several dozen Vietnamese villagers asking to be taken with them, Deok-su initially refuses to step up and help them, however, only reluctantly agreeing as the Vietcong close in. Clearly this rescue of the Vietnamese refugees is meant to mirror the evacuation at Hungnam that Deok-su went through as a child. This time, however, Korea has grown up enough that it's no longer the victim, but is the one doing the rescuing.

As a result of this rescue, Dal-gu returns home and marries one of the Vietnamese refugees in what is touted as the "first Korean-Vietnamese marriage." While this isn't true, and the story of the relationship between Vietnam and South Korea is a complicated one (as I'll discuss in my next post), it does mirror the way in which Vietnam is seen today. In "The Bride(s) From Hanoi: South Korean Popular Culture, Vietnam and 'Asia' in the New Millennium"(available as a pdf here), Stephen Epstein looks at this relationship through the lens of the reality show "Meet the In-Laws," which inadvertently compares the poor rural life Vietnamese marriage migrants left behind to their new life with a higher standard of living in Korea. As these migrants are always depicted as female, "Meet the In-Laws both mirrors, and further encourages, Korean attitudes of superiority to an Asian hinterland, which are then coded in gendered terms." As well, the requests by these women's families in Vietnam that they be dutiful daughters-in-law or wives "subsumes Vietnam within a traditional Confucian patrilocal framework and acknowledges a position within that hierarchy that reinforces the gendering of Korea as male and leader." Epstein adds that
Since the turn of the millennium one finds increasing evidence of a radical shift in Korea’s gendering of its encounters with the foreign away from the aggressive male intruder, whose presence in Korea has often been symbolized in tropes of rape and violation, as in gijichon (camptown) fiction, to the foreign as the female to be dominated and domesticated within the national fabric.
This accords, I believe, with the depiction in the film of Korea 'growing up,' moving from a state of dependency to a mature member of the world of nations. The final step in this process is healing the psychological wounds of past trauma, in Deok-su's case the loss of family members during the evacuation of Hungnam. As previously mentioned, in 1983 KBS broadcast the TV show, "Reuniting Separated Families," planning only to do a single broadcast, but when it proved successful it continued for over four months and led to the reunion of over 10,000 separated families (episodes can be watched here). In an incredibly emotional scene, Deok-su is finally reunited with a lost family member, and in the present, remembering this event as presented in a flashback, he is finally able to let go of the past and move on.

Near the end of the film, there's a birthday party where it's learned that Deok-su had taught his five-year-old granddaughter to sing "굳세어라 금순아 (Be Strong, Geumsun)," a trot song about the evacuation of Heungnam, which horrifies her parents, who wonder why he would teach her such a sad song. Deok-su retreats to his room to be alone, and the shot of his apartment from outside, showing two windows, one in which his wife, children, and grandchildren celebrate happily, and the other in which Deok-su weeps alone, remembering the past, visually summarizes the divide between generations. Korea has grown into an adult, developed into a modern nation, but the film admonishes the younger generation for forgetting the struggles along the way. At the same time, however, the way in which Deok-su "moves on" and lets go of the past involves him giving in to a redevelopment project, so the film both criticizes the materialism of the present and gives in to it.

Interestingly, criticisms of the film for being conservative miss the fact that it presents Korea as being cosmopolitan. While it portrays Korea's relationship with different nations, it also portrays how those relations (and others) have changed the make-up of Korean society. When teenagers make fun of a South Asian migrant worker, Deok-su defends him and criticizes the teens, precisely because he himself was once a migrant worker, in Germany. Not only that, the Migrant worker says that because he's lived in Korea for some time, he's Korean too, which is certainly not a conservative statement. Deok-su's best friend marries a Vietnamese woman, echoing the marriage migration occurring in Korea today. And his lost and rediscovered sibling is married to a white American man, and, in a montage of the years passing, is shown present at a family dinner, with no fuss made about his presence.

In my next post I'll look more closely at the historical events the film predicted and at how the film followed or strayed from the facts. Despite certain omissions, and despite its melodramatic excess, and narrative shortcomings, "Ode To My Father" is well acted, and portrays often-forgotten historical moments as stepping stones to Korea's emergence as a modern, confident, and inclusive nation, though perhaps one which could stand to remember the difficult path taken along the way.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Dissertation on police - gang cooperation in Korea

There's an interesting article at the Joongang Daily about Jonson Porteux, who as a doctoral student gained the trust of prosecutors and police as well as gang leaders while researching "the symbiotic relationship between the state and mafia-type groups, and why those within developed democracies tolerate, and sometimes even cooperate with, criminal organizations."
He conducted field work on the subject in Korea between 2010 and 2011 while on a Fulbright scholarship, and completed his doctoral dissertation, “Police, Paramilitaries, Nationalists, and Gangsters: The Processes of State Building in Korea,” last year.
The dissertation can be found here. The section I've read so far looks at how the Korean government privatized the redevelopment process in the 1980s, following the development of Mok-dong, and examines how gangs are subcontracted to evict recalcitrant tenants, looking specifically the Yongsan incident in 2009 and the evicting of vendors in Insadong in 2011. Both the article and the dissertation make for interesting reading,




Thursday, December 04, 2014

Screening of Kim Ki-deok's 1964 film 'The Barefooted Youth' this Saturday

This Saturday, December 6, at 3pm, the Royal Asiatic Society Cinema Club and Seoul Film Society will have a free screening of the 1964 Kim Ki-deok film 'The Barefooted Youth' (맨발의 청춘) with English subtitles at Seoul Global Center's Haechi Hall in Myeongdong. As it's described here,
So-called "adolescent films" first gained widespread popularity in Korea during the 1960s, and of these, Kim Ki-deok's Barefooted Youth is the best known. Doo-soo lives in a poor neighborhood and makes his living doing odd jobs for a local gang. One day he comes across some thugs harassing two young women, and he intervenes, saving the women but getting himself injured in the process. Later when one of the women, an ambassador's daughter named Johanna, comes to thank him in person, the two strike up a friendship that will eventually lead them into trouble.

Barefooted YouthBarefooted Youth features an enjoyable mix of humor and drama in highlighting the vast gap between Doo-soo's lower class world and the aristocratic circles inhabited by Johanna. For audiences of the 1960s, the film highlights not only Korea's stark class divisions, but also the generation gap that was opening ever wider in that time period, with increasingly wild youth and ever more alarmed parents. The film features an interesting mix of optimism -- highlighted by the younger generation's willingness to fight and overcome barriers -- and pessimism marked by economic struggles and the harsh social dictates of the era
Directions to Seoul Global Center's Haechi Hall can be found here, and more information about the film is here, and the screening, here.


Tuesday, December 02, 2014

News on cuts to public school native speaking teachers

The Seoul Sinmun reported November 13 on budget cuts to native-speaking teachers in public schools in an article titled "[Controversy over welfare] Because of daycare, native speaking teachers are saying 'Oh my God!'" The article opens by asserting that, "One local government after another is expanding the budget for free day care programs and reducing native speaking instructors."

According to the budget submitted by the Incheon Office of Education to the Incheon City Government, this year's native speaking teacher budget will be cut from 14,494,000,000 won to 9,076,000,000 won, a reduction of 5,418,000,000 won. There are currently 202 native speaking teachers (180 English teachers and 22 Chinese teachers), and these will be reduced by 76 to 126 teachers next year. The Daegu Office of Education will reduce its budget by 8.8 billion won, reducing its teachers from 443 this year to 323 next year. The Chungcheongnam-do Office of Education will reduce its current 438 teachers by 71 to 367, cutting 42 from elementary schools, 13 from middle schools and 16 from high schools. The Chungcheongbuk-do Office of Education will cut Local Education Subsidies and cut 113 out of 306 native speaking teachers. To make up for this video lessons will be increased and teachers will travel from school to school.

Offices of education are saying that native speaking budgets are getting the most cuts since there is less urgent need for native speakers compared to day care, but parents are complaining, saying that both are important. Incheon's placement rate for foreign teachers is already only 55%, compared to the national average of 81.4% of schools, and the placement rate will only drop.

As well, TBC reports that for next year Daegu has cut the native speaking teacher budget in half, from 18.2 billion won this year. Above, in the Seoul Sinmun article, we see 8.8 billion won has been cut, which accords with 'half the budget' being cut, though it's odd that only 120 out of 443 teachers will be cut. While the Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education isn't talking too openly about it, there may be cuts in Seoul as well. Offers to renew contracts were delayed two weeks until mid-November, though it seems teachers currently working should be able to keep their jobs. Below is a chart from the Kyunghyang Sinmun showing public middle schools in Seoul with native speaking teachers. While SMOE has cut funding to NSETs for middle schools, the district offices can use their own budgets to pay NSETs. Most don't have the resources, but Gangnam and Seocho districts have a 100% NSET placement rate in their public middle schools, while most districts have no teachers at all, leading to fears of this contributing to the gaps between rich and poor neighbourhoods.

(At bottom are the number of public middle schools per district.)

One thing worth noting is that while it's often said that Korean teachers will replace NSETs, it seems hiring Korean English language instructors may also fall by the wayside. A friend of mine in this teaching position in Gangseo-gu in Seoul is about to lose his job due to budget cuts.

According to the Gukje Sinmun, in Busan, the budget has gradually shrunk from 17.6 billion won in 2011, to 13.7 billion won in 2012, to 16.2 billion won in 2013, to 12.4 billion won in 2014, to 6.9 billion won for 2015. The number of native speaking teachers during that time has gradually shrunk from 522 in 2011, to 528 in 2012, to 399 in 2013, to 304 in 2014, to 170 for 2015. The teachers taught at all levels of public school until 2014, after which only elementary school teachers remained. As of next year, teachers at small schools will travel and teach at several elementary schools.

As reported by Yonhap back in late October, Saenuri Representative Yun Jae-ok pointed out then that the native speaking teacher placement rate in schools nationwide has decreased from 81.9% in 2012 to 65.1% in 2014.

According to Rep. Yun, in 2012 there were native speaking teachers placed at 9,315 schools out of a total of 11,368 schools nationwide, making for a placement rate of 81.9%, and this fell to 81.4% in 2013 and 65.1% in 2014. As well, the number of students of per native speaking teacher has increased. In 2012 there were 8,529 NSETs teaching 6,807,637 students nationwide, making for one NSET per 799 students. In 2013 this increased to one NSET per 821.1 students, and in 2014 this increased to one NSET per 947.2 students.

In looking at the history of the EPIK program before, I posted this chart made in 2010 by the Seoul Sinmun showing the number of native speaking teachers placed in public schools between 1995 and 2010, which reveals the hit the program took in 1997 after the financial crisis (it took 7 years to recover the numbers it had then).

(At top are the number of teachers by year, followed by a breakdown by nationality of teachers currently working, and at bottom are the percentages of teachers with qualifications.)

That graph is a bit compressed, height-wise, however, so I made a new one using data from this Korea Observer article which notes that 2,500 native speaking teachers have been cut over the past three years, dropping to 6,785 as of April this year from the high point of 9,320 in 2011.


The number of native speaking teachers in Korean public schools made an incredible jump between 2005 and 2009, from 1,017 to 7,997 before making a smaller increase to 9,320 over the next two years and has seen, as the Korea Observer reported, a decrease of around 2,500 teachers since 2011. Adding up the cuts announced above, at least another 500 teachers will be cut next year.


(Also worth reading on this topic is Akli Hadid's article in The Diplomat which argues that "Government attempts to undercut English have not slowed corporate language demands.")


To finish with a bit of happier news, the Yeongnam Ilbo reported on November 17 that foreign teachers in Daegu had organized a give a gift appeal for children in childcare facilities called Daegu's Time to Give, which has also been reported on by the Korea Herald, and can be found on Facebook here.

Friday, November 28, 2014

Teachers busted for growing pot, mailing self designer drug

Perhaps the 'crime prevention education' I recently posted about is needed after all. KNN (via SBS) reported on November 18 that a 43 year old American who is a 'visiting professor' who teaches English at a national university in Busan had been arrested for growing marijuana. Among many plants on his balcony were three pot plants, seen below. He's heard in the report saying, "I wasn't trying to grow marijuana."


Whoops. These things happen accidentally, I guess. The old 'he taught while high' accusation is made once again by a police officer: "Because it's come to light that he would smoke in the evening after classes finished at clubs or bars, it seems during the semester he often smoked and taught class." So he smoked after classes finished but he was high in class? Okay then.

The only other mention of this case outside KNN was NoCut News, who reported on two busts in Busan, one of a meth bust involving 42 people (23 arrested and detained), and this one. It mentions that he'd he'd brought pot back from California in 2012, started growing the plants late last year, and had been smoking the plant since March. I couldn't help but chuckle at the way NoCut News reported what police seized in these two busts: 178g of meth (worth 590,000,000 won), 0.33g of marijuana, three marijuana plants, and disposable syringes. The order might make one think the syringes were for the marijuana, while the amount of pot seized (0.33 grams) certainly isn't much to write home about. That said, growing is always going to get serious attention from the police, and likely from the media as well, though this bust really wasn't reported much. The KNN report states that the university will decide what to do with him after it receives the results of the police investigation.

In other news, as Asia Gyeongje reported on October 28, it turns out there was another foreign teacher busted for drugs, a foreign hagwon instructor arrested by Suwon prosecutor's office after Incheon customs intercepted mail which contained either blotter paper containing with the psychedelic drug 2C-C-NBOME or another package with pentedrone at the end of September (a Korean male was also arrested and it's not made clear the connection - if they each are responsible for one, or together responsible for both; one assumes the former).


In both cases it's the first time such drugs have been found by the Korea Customs Service.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

RAS walking tour of Jeong-dong this Sunday


This Sunday, November 23, I'll be leading a walking tour for the Royal Asiatic Society of Jeong-dong, which became the neighbourhood for Westerners after Korea opened to the west in the 1880s through to the end of the colonial period. I've written about the history of this area before (here and here), and will be looking at lots of turn of the century Western architecture and connecting these buildings to stories of Korea's modern history. From the RAS website:
On this excursion we will meet in front of Deoksugung Palace from where we will explore the Jeong-dong's rich early modern history. After a visit to the Anglican church we will take in a view of the neighbourhood from above before heading to the Seoul Museum of Art, which is housed in the colonial era-built former Korean Supreme Court building.To learn about the missionary influence upon the neighborhood, we will visit the Baejae Hakdang, a missionary-run boys' school which educated many of Korea's future elite, now restored as a museum; the Jeong-dong First Methodist Church; and Ewha Girl's High School, the first school for girls in Korea, and also the site of one of Korea's earliest foreign-run hotels, the Songtag Hotel. From there we will visit the restored Jungmyeongjeon Hall, which was built as a royal library but is best known for being the place where the Eulsa Treaty, which the Japanese used to deprive Korea of its diplomatic sovereignty, was signed in 1905. Other stops will include the remains of the former Russian Legation and the beautiful colonial home where independence activist Kim Ku was assassinated in 1949.

The cost of the tour is W20,000 for members and W25,000 for non-members. The excursion will set off from Daehanmun, the front gate of Deoksugung Palace, (subway line number 1, dark blue line, or 2, green line, City Hall Station #132, exit 2) at 1:00 pm.
Feel free to join us!