REFERENCES Goodwin, Jason. A Time For Tea: Travels through China and India in Search of Tea. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. 1991.
Kaempfer, Engelbert. Exotic Pleasures: Fascicle III Curious Scientific and Medical Observations. Translated with an Interoduction and Commentary by Robert W. Carrubba. Library of Renaissance Humanism, Southern Illinois University Press. 1996.
Lee, Ki-yun. Tado. Seoul: Taewon-sa. 1989.
Manchester,Carole. Tea in the East. New York: Hearst Books. 1996.
Park Hee-joon. Ch’a han chan. Seoul: Shinorim. 1994.
[page 13] Why Not Believe in Evil?
C. Fred Alford
The Clash of Civilizations, Samuel Huntington’s (1996, pp. 312-318) recent book, imagines, among other conflicts, a World War Three between China and the United States, what he calls a global civilizational war. It is not, certainly, a work that plays down conflict and differences among what he calls civilizations. Nor is it a book that shrinks from the dramatic. Twice he refers to evil, toward the beginning and toward the end of his book (pp. 56,319). Toward the beginning he says that he is not interested in trivial commonalties among peoples, such as the fact that “human beings in virtually all societies share certain basic values, such as murder is evil …”
It is ironic, the man who sees fundamental conflict and fault lines everywhere misses the fact that people in all societies do not agree that murder is evil, not just because they do not agree about the definition of murder, but also because they do not agree whether evil exists. Most Koreans, I have found in my research, do not believe in “evil,” though of course it is not that simple. The concept of evil is complex, as I (Alford, 1997) have argued in What Evil Means to Us, my study of Evil West, so to speak. What is missing in Korea is the sense of evil as a malevolent, marauding force in the heart of man and the cosmos.
Some anthropologists of evil—there is such a subfield—argue that every society has a concept of evil. Evil is a virtually universal category, but what they generally mean by “evil” is something very bad. Certainly Koreans possess terms for very bad. Ak, and sa ak, are among the strongest. What Koreans lack is a sense that all, or even most, very bad things possess something in common, what we would call “evil.” If one were to translate ak as evil, then evil would become just a word, with nothing in common to link its objects, much as bad day, bad hair, bad dog, bad boy, and bad air lack a common denominator other than being bad.
What else is new, you might ask? Of course Korea lacks a western concept of evil, for Korea is east, and the east lacks the west’s penchant for dualism. Ruth Benedict (1947, p. 190) made this point in 1947 in The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, her study of Japanese culture, and she was not the first. Evil is part of a whole set of Western distinctions, such as that between being and becoming, form and void, that has never been convincing to the East.
To “discover” that Koreans do not believe in evil is no discovery at all, if by the term discovery we mean the unearthing of something new. Still, it can be useful to question what seems so obvious. What, after all, does it mean to not believe in evil? Do people who do not believe in evil see the world through rose colored glasses? Or do they just refuse to do the addition, so to speak, refusing to assimilate bad Japanese, bad North Koreans, and bad morals to a single quality of extreme badness, what the west calls evil?
Common experiences using slightly different words is what I expected to find, based upon my preliminary interviews with a small number of Korean- Americans. In other words, I expected the Korean denial of evil to be relatively superficial, a nominalist defense against an essential experience. Push Koreans a little bit, and I would find many of the same elements of evil I found among the informants who contributed to What Evil Means to Us, above all a need to create malevolent enemies in order to contain and express feelings of doom and dread.
What I found was something vastly more complex, a world in which it hardly made sense to say that Koreans deny evil, as the term “deny” presumes an experience to be denied in the first place. Rather, Koreans organize experience in such a way that evil does not have the possibility of appearing, possibly not even as an experience.
Koreans believe they have a choice about concepts like evil, essentially dualistic concepts that divide the world in two. Whether the concept of evil, no matter how it is held, must invariably do this is another question. Many Koreans talk as if they and their culture have chosen to reject such concepts, because they are superficial, false, and destructive. This hatred of dualism is, of course, not without its own irony: Korea is home to the most heavily fortified border in the world.
One young Buddhist put it this way. “The West is infected with dualism. You Americans destroyed the Indians because of dualism. The West had two World Wars because of dualism. You are always finding and fighting an enemy.”(All unattributed quotations, including this one, come from author interviews.)
“What about the Japanese occupation of Korea,” I asked. “Wasn’t that [page 15] dualism?”
He thought a moment. “No, the Japanese didn’t want to fight us. They wanted to absorb us. It’s just the opposite.”
Not so different, perhaps, for the “absorbees.” but that is not the point. The point is that it is possible to organize what seem to be very similar experiences, such as Western and Japanese colonialism, under vastly different categories, even apparently opposite ones.
A WORKING HYPOTHESIS
In order to get a grant to study something, it is necessary to pretend that one knows what one is actually setting out to discover. This pretense is known as a working hypothesis. My working hypothesis was that because Korea is such a religiously eclectic and syncretic society, individual Koreans would experience evil by sector, so to speak. Evil would be divided into different areas of life governed by different religious principles. About family relationships, most Koreans, not just Confucians, would define evil in Confucian terms, lack of final piety and so forth. About metaphysical issues, most Koreans, not just Buddhists, would define evil in Buddhist terms, such as the ignorant clinging to things and people. About other matters, such as evil as the caprice of the world, most Koreans, not just shamanists, would define evil in shamanistic terms, illness and bad luck the result of not paying proper attention to the spirit world.
I did not confirm my working hypothesis, and I did not disconfirm it either, nor did it become irrelevant, just too categorical. I was made aware of this early in my research, when a Korean informant told the story of his brother’s funerals. In the morning the family went to the Confucian shrine. Later two shamans came to the house to purify it. In the evening they all went to the Buddhist temple, so the monks might say prayers for his spirit. While spending a couple of days at home before returning, the informant noticed a pair of his underwear were missing. His mother had taken them to the shaman to be blessed. She was worried he was working too hard.
My working hypothesis was correct in so far as it suggests something of how the elements of the western concept of evil are redistributed in Korea, but it was incorrect in so far as it suggests the sectors have boundaries. It would be more accurate to say that about family relationships and evil, most Koreans draw upon Confucian, Buddhist, and shamanistic elements, and more besides, leading to a mix that is all of the above and then some. One can say the same [page 16] thing about the other sectors, nor does it make much difference what religion the informant belonged to. Koreans said remarkably similar things about evil, no matter what their religion, including Christianity.
MAPPING THE NON-EXISTENCE OF EVIL
What I was doing in my research, though I did not fully understand it until later, was mapping the non-existence of evil, discovering where, when, and why it disappeared. Mapping might evoke the image of tracing the Korean disbelief in evil to its source. The image is misleading, though some ways of thinking surely have more influence on the non-concept of evil than others. The Tao’s insistence on anti-dualism, echoed in Buddhism and much else in Korean culture besides, is fundamental. To see the world in terms of “more than one, less than two” inhibits the development of the type of dualistic thinking that makes a sturdy concept of evil difficult, if not impossible.
While the Tao is important, and I shall return to it, it would be dubious to suggest that the influence is so direct. Non-dualism is not just or even primarily a philosophical commitment, but a personal one. One of my informants was a judge in a district court in Kyongsangnam-do, province. When asked whether he had ever confronted evil in his courtroom, he told a story.
“Several years ago a man was arrested for attacking his neighbor and breaking his nose. Two hours later, the victim persuaded his attacker, who was even more drunk than the victim, to box. Because the original victim had some experience as a boxer, he beat the man who broke his nose severely. The next day the boxer with the broken nose brought charges against his neighbor.
“When the two men came before the judge, only one was in handcuffs, but after hearing the story, the judge decided that both were guilty, and so arrested the plaintiff. Then he put both on probation.”
It was, he said, his finest moment as a judge. He does not believe that he is a very good judge, but in this case he says he was brilliant, comparing himself to Solomon, a frequent image of wisdom among Koreans, especially Buddhists, at least when speaking with me. It is a western image of wisdom Koreans can appreciate.
In Korea the judge generally acts as jury. He must determine the facts as well as pass judgment. This judge is overwhelmed by the complexity of the cases that appear before him. Not only does he have difficulty determining the facts, but even when he knows what happened he generally does not know why, or who is really to blame. “Some people don’t think, some are brought [page 17] up wrong. Even when you don’t want to do something bad, fate takes over. You can’t always help yourself.”
I pursued the topic of evil with the judge, saying “You still have not answered my question. Has anyone ever appeared before you who you would call evil?”
Finally he got angry. “How could I call someone evil. I would have to know their whole life history, and if I did, then I would have to sentence them to death. What else could I do.”
“A KOREAN SOLOMON WOULD HAVE MADE THE TWO WOMEN SISTERS”
The judge was interviewed with others present. He and they were students in an adult English language class with which I spent several days, transforming their classes into seminars on evil and their nights into informal discussions of evil at coffeehouses and restaurants. Captivated by the image of Solomon, another student recounted the story from the Old Testament of the Bible. “The western Solomon figured out which prostitute was lying by almost chopping the baby in half. Then he killed the pretended mother, giving the baby to its real mother. A Korean Solomon would have found a compromise. He would have made the two women sisters, so they could have cared for the child together. That’s the difference between east and west.”
Often we learn most from what is misremembered or misunderstood. The Biblical Solomon (1 Kings 3.16-28) does not kill the false mother, nor does he “almost” chop the baby in half; he only pretends, in order to discover the true mother, but the Korean woman who misremembers the story is making an important point about how she sees east and west. The west divides, chopping things and people, up. The east creates relationships modeled on the family. From her perspective, the Korean Solomon has not achieved a compromise. A compromise would be chopping the baby in half. The Korean Solomon has made the conflict disappear, by placing it within a relationship within which it can be resolved by the expectations inherent in traditional relationships such as older and younger sister.
Does the judge see so much complexity because he does not want to divide the people who come before him into good and evil, or does he not want to divide the people who come before him into good and evil, because he sees so much complexity? Both perhaps. Which came first seems impossible to determine. What is clear is that Koreans hate dualism, and it is this hatred that lies behind the reluctance to see evil—or rather, allot it a category of exis-[page 18] tence. This hatred of dualism is shared by most Koreans, though it finds its sharpest theoretical expression among Buddhists.
TAOISM IS THE BASIS OF ANTI-DUALISM
Sometimes it is argued that shamanism is the basis of Korean thought. A western missionary, Homer Hulbert, put it this way in 1906 in a contemporary guidebook to Korea.
As a general rule we may say that the all around Korean will be a Confucianist when in society, a Buddhist when he philosophizes, and a spirit worshiper (shamanist) when he is in trouble. Now when you want to know what a man’s religion is, you must watch him when he is in trouble. It is for this reason that I conclude that the underlying religion of the Korean, the foundation upon which all else is mere superstructure, is his original spirit worship. (Tomasz, 1993, p. 51)
I would not want to practice a contemporary version of this arrogant insight, substituting Taoism for shamanism. (It is both, I believe), My point is, I hope, more subtle.
Most adult Koreans, according to newspaper surveys and my experience, visit fortune tellers, or send their wives on their behalf. Many visit a shaman. One Western lawyer who worked for many years in Seoul complains, “It’s not unusual for me to do a lot of detailed work on a client proposal, and then have the client go and consult a fortune teller. He will always take the fortuneteller’s advice over mine.” (Clifford, 1994, p. 161) Certainly the living and dead keep company in Korea as they do not in the United States. This is the topic of Han Mahlsook’s Hymn of the Spirit (1983), about a world in which the dead mingle with the living, and the different religions blend, frequently within the same person. Toward the end of my stay it no longer surprised me that a Buddhist would approach me, an American professor, at a Buddhist temple, asking for a recommendation for a sympathetic shaman. I had previously talked with her about my interviews with shamans and fortune tellers.
If Koreans are superstitious, it does not profoundly affect their views of evil. To be sure, many less educated, and not only less educated, talk about revenge from beyond the grave, but the model—the reasoning—is strictly human, the dead taking their revenge for much the same reason as the living do, but perhaps more effectively. It is easy to overestimate the importance of superstitious and spiritual beliefs, particularly in Korea where figures such as[page 19] the shaman are so dramatic. In many ways the Korean view of qui-shin, ghosts of the departed who remain in this world to trouble their relatives and enemies, is less superstitious, or at least requires less of an act of spiritual and metaphysical imagination and faith, than belief in an omniscient and omnipotent God. Certainly these qui-shin operate according to principles that are virtually human, denizens of a world that mirrors our own. The world of the supernatural is not a higher or lower universe, but a parallel one, where almost every aspect of human relationships is faithfully reflected.
One wants to say that it is not shamanism but Taoism that most profoundly affects the Korean view or non-view of evil. Only putting it this way would ignore the origins of Taoism in shamanism. Consider, for example, the Ch’u-tz’u (Songs of the Land of Ch’u), written over three-thousand years ago. It would be more accurate to state that the Korean view of evil is most profoundly affected by a type of philosophical shamanism captured by the Tao Te Ching, and Chuang Tzu, in which oneness, or at least “not two-ness” is the highest value.
Though it is perhaps tendentious to distinguish between Taoism and philosophical shamanism, it is useful insofar as it recalls the connection between the shamanism of everyday Korean life and the more abstract teachings of the Tao. Because shamanism is so sensational, because a visit to the colorful shaman is on the agenda of every tour group, it is easy to miss the more subtle but important point While stories of qui-shin and the shaman, who speaks in their voice, are dramatic, it is actually the more subtle and abstract teachings of the Tao that influence everyday views of evil in Korea. In shamanism, the spirits inhabit a world remarkably porous to our own, the dead going back and forth between them. The world of everyday life and the spirit world are not one, but neither are they two. The Taoist term “not two” comes closest to the mark. It is this view of “not two,” rendered abstract, transformed into a worldview not a superstition, that best explains, at least in so far as the best explanation is most general, the Korean non-view of evil.
In the west, the model of birth and creativity is dualistic, God working on formless matter to create the world. In this dualistic model there is a place for evil, perhaps even a necessity for it: it is one of the oppositions that must be overcome. Only through the conflict of good and evil is progress possible. In the East, the model of birth and creativity is singular, though even that way of putting it is not quite right, as it assumes a dual against which singular takes its meaning. The model is the Tao, a oneness that has the quality of nothingness, is so far as it is so vast and capacious it has room for all things without opposition. The Tao says simply “the great fashioner does no splitting.” (Tao[page 20] Te Ching, no. 28).
From this perspective, creation comes not from conflict, but from the creation of unities out of dualities, unities being understood not so much as fusion as “more than one, less than two.” In creating unities out of conflict, one is coming closer to the original simplicity of nature. This is what the Korean Solomon would do, transform two women fighting over a single child into sisters. It is this ideal that the Korean judge tries to uphold, finding guilt where there is innocence, and vice-versa. Not in order to reverse dualities, creating new polarities. That would be the ideal of the Western dialectic, each apparent synthesis the motive for a new conflict. But in order to find the underlying natural unity behind the apparent opposition.
Here, the Korean says, is real creativity, finding a natural harmony out of apparent conflict. Creativity means to restore the oneness, the less than two-ness, of nature, or as Confucius, influenced more than a little by Taoism, says “Men are close to one another by nature. It is by practice they become far apart.” (Analects, 17.2) The judge, finding a deeper unity in two men’s conflict, means to restore something of man’s original nature.
Rather than go into detail regarding questions and subjects, I seek here only to convey the flavor of my research. Interested readers may write me regarding details (firstname.lastname@example.org).
I spoke with over two hundred Koreans from all walks of life. Some interviews lasted as little as twenty minutes. A number took over three hours. In several dozen cases I interviewed the subject a second and third time. Most were interviewed individually, but a number in groups.
The Koreans interviewed were about as religiously diverse as the population. While the Koreans interviewed were younger and better educated than the population as a whole, special efforts were made to interview older and less educated Koreans. The following is a list of my recruitment strategies:
1. Visiting restaurants in the middle of the afternoon, when staff was not so busy, to talk with older, generally less educated women.
2. Visiting coffeehouses in the evening and talking with patrons
3. “Evil dinners” were held, in which I invited a group of Koreans to drinks and dinner to talk about evil I paid and they talked.
4. Handbills were posted at several universities, inviting students to talk about evil. My sponsors doubted if any would respond. ‘‘Koreans do not do [page 21] things that way,” said one. In fact, a number responded.
5. Pagoda (T’apkol) Park in Seoul is a favorite place for older men to spend their days. Many were eager to talk at length.
6. Taxi drivers were interviewed. This is the only group that was sometimes paid, as the driver ran his, or occasionally her, meter as we talked.
7. Several teachers at English language institutes (hagwon) allowed their adult upper-level classes to become seminars on evil. Students had a chance to practice their English, and the researcher learned much.
8. One hundred fifty students from Hankuk University of Foreign Studies wrote essays on evil. Koreans are often more self-revealing in writing than in conversation. In addition, each was interviewed, generally in a group of about 15.
9. I visited a dozen different classes at three universities, one outside Seoul, talking with the students. Several students called me later, and we met and talked further.
10. Several shamans, a dozen blind fortune tellers, and other “scientists of divination” were interviewed, most at length.
11. Special efforts were made to interview Buddhist monks, Confucian scholars, Christian ministers and Catholic priests. Almost two dozen were interviewed. One priest talked about confessions he had heard, in general terms of course, a mode of access to guilty feelings about evil thoughts and deeds that would otherwise be unavailable.
12. Several dozen professionals and experts in relevant fields, such as psychiatrists, philosophers, sociologists, were interviewed.
My Korean is far from fluent, and I could not conduct interviews in it without the assistance of a translator. I had the same translator throughout my research project. We spent hundreds of hours working together, at least as many before and after interviews as during, trying to organize and make sense of the responses.
Many Koreans, particularly students and professionals, speak excellent English, and in these cases I conducted the interviews in English. In most cases my translator attended these interviews as well, partly in order to help with difficult words, partly in order to keep current with my work, and partly so she could tell me if I was hearing different things in English than in Korean.
REFERENCES Alford, C. Fred (1997). What Evil Means to Us. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press.
Benedict, Ruth (1947). The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Clifford, Mark (1994). Troubled Tiger: Businessmen, Bureaucrats and Generals in South Korea. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 1994.
Huntington, Samuel (1996). The Clash of civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon and Schuster.
Mahlsook, Han (1983). Hymn of the Spirit, trans. Suzanne Crowder Han. Seoul: Art Space Publications, 1983.
Tomasz, Julie, ed. (1993). Foder’s Korea. New York: Fodor’s Travel Publications.
Yang Guy-ja and Shin Kyoung-suuk: Two Contrasting Women’s Voices in Korean Literature Today Ji-moon Suh
Protest against the lot assigned to women alternated with mournful brooding over it in Korean women’s literature since the beginning of “modern” literature in Korea early in the twentieth century.
The first generation of Korean women writers were brave “new” women, who dared to defy the iron rules of Confucian decorum and come before the public. They tried not only to emancipate themselves but to help their oppressed sisters find liberation and selfhood. Na Hye-sok, Kim Myong-sun, and Kang Kyong-ae were among these true pioneers and subversives.
The fate of Na Hye-sok (1896-1946?) explains the circumspection of the next two or three generations of Korean women writers. Primarily a painter, Na wrote short stories in her early twenties calling on Korean women to realize the indignity of their oppressed status and to seek human dignity and self- fulfillment through a hard-working, self-determining life.
She became more famous, however, for her alleged sexual license than as a painter or writer. Her diary shows that up to her late thirties she tried hard to remain loyal to her wifely and maternal roles in spite of the many humiliations and frustrations of an unhappy marriage. It is hard to tell what the nature and extent of her “free love” was, but she came to be known as a shameless voluptuary who used her artistic pretensions as an excuse for sexual abandon. She is believed to have died on the street, a destitute beggar. Her tragic life and death made her name a stern warning to young women with literary or artistic aspirations. “Do you want to become another Na Hye-sok?” was a frequent reprimand to daughters and younger sisters.
For a woman to become a writer required tremendous courage, and to[page 24] survive as one required careful strategies. One such strategy was to limit oneself to “feminine” subjects and viewpoints while making only occasional forays into the “masculine” domain of political and ideological spheres. Not that the “feminine” subjects did not provide women writers with ample material. Korean women in the turbulent period of consecutive national disasters and rapid social restructuring needed spokeswomen for their trials and sufferings, and women writers supplied this need. More importantly, even though women writers refrained from making overt protests, their precise delineation of the lives of women in their familial and communal relationships contained tacit reproaches against the social system that heaps so many wrongs and injustices on women. Ch’oe Chong-hui, Son So-hi, Im Ok-in and many other women writers won recognition as forceful writers and yet avoided social ostracism by making covert, rather than overt, protests.
There were, however, certain women writers who could not and would not disguise their fury and who produced works that jeopardized their “respectability” and “charm” in the public eye. Pak Kyong-li (b. 1927) always confronted the cruelties of life unflinchingly. She started out as a poet but soon turned to prose fiction, and produced works bearing the imprint of her boldness and penetration. In the late sixties, she began the historical saga Toji, or The Land. This sixteen-volume river novel is a chronicle of a whole nation caught in the whirlwind of violent historical transitions. This monumental work has won this dedicated author the grateful respect of the whole nation.
A writer also in her sixties but regarded as more of a contemporary on account of her late debut is Park Wan-so (b. 1931). She exposes human selfishness, hypocrisy, and cruelty so relentlessly that she has been compared to an entomologist dissecting insects under a microscope. Treating mainly contemporary subjects, hers was one of the voices that kept alive the spirit of resistance against the tyranny of power and oppression of convention during the dark years of military dictatorship. She has made up for her late debut with notable productivity—about three volumes of novels and short stories per year on average.
Standing on the shoulders of their literary mothers and elder sisters, the women writers who have emerged in the past two decades have been able to write on the subjects of their choice in the manner they wanted to. They neither limited themselves to feminine subjects, nor did they avoid them. They seem to be writing only to give voice to their vision. Because they have been able to express themselves freely, they have enriched and invigorated Korean literature incalculably. Whereas Korean male writers tend to be overly serious and somber, women writers brought technical versatility, playful humor, lyri- [page 25] cism, fantasy, and psychological penetration. They, more than their contemporary male writers, are responsible for creating the fertile literary soil that is nurturing so many interesting and important works.
In this paper I will look at two women writers who have risen to prominence since the 1980s. They present an interesting contrast in their attitudes toward the lot of women. Even though Yang Guy-ja and Shin Kyoung-suuk both have keen insights into the causes of women’s suffering, their attitudes toward the status of women and the feminine psyche are very different. Yang Guy-ja is as socially concerned a writer as any male writer claiming to be the ‘‘conscience of the age”; Shin Kyoung-suuk, in contrast, is almost exclusively preoccupied with the internal landscape of the feminine mind and heart.
The fact that Yang Guy-ja has won many literary prizes and abundant critical attention is no surprise to anyone. That Shin Kyoung-suuk’s purely “personal” stories are not only popular but winning literary prizes and receiving critical applause, on the other hand, may be something of a surprise to those who know the Korean literary climate. It seems an indication that Korean literary critics are now ready to “enjoy” literature, and to be a little less insistent that literature be the sentinel of social justice. The end of the long military rule brought more than political liberation.
Yang Guy-ja (b. 1955) made an early debut and has been producing works of courageous and forceful social criticism for two decades now. In the dark eighties torn by the Kwangju massacre and the slaughter of student dissidents, Yang Guy-ja’s themes were the same as most serious writers of the day: the persecution fears of powerless citizens, the economic injustices that keep the poor entrapped in poverty while giving the rich unearned millions, the compromises with conscience demanded by survival needs, and so on. Her stories, therefore, were not especially “feminine,” except for the greater fullness of humanity of her characters and greater concreteness of action and dialogue.
“Wonmidong Dwellers” (1987),her second collection of short stories, is based on her experience of life with her neighbors in the cheap housing district of Puchon, a satellite city of Seoul The stories present a total picture of the social, economic, and psychological lives of “small citizens” in an era which ignored their existence.
In the opening story of the collection, a young head of a family, tired of eviction notices and soaring “key money” for rent in Seoul, moves to a cheap apartment in Puchon with his family of mother, pregnant wife and small daughter. His mother offers grateful prayers to the Lord for enabling them to find their “Canaan” at long last, and his pregnant wife, hunched up among [page 26] their furniture and belongings in the freight section of the moving van, extracts a glimmer of hope in the fact that Puchon is adjacent to Sosa, renowned for peaches, the fruit that in Chinese mythology is said to grow in the Elysian fields.
Their humble apartment is located on the Main Street of Puchon, together with a tiny “supermarket,” an electric appliance repair and retail shop, a photo studio doubling as a DP&E shop, a small patch of field cultivated by a stubborn old man using night soil, a hairdressing salon, and a “ginseng tea” room run by a tired woman who used to be a prostitute. The owners of these modest shops and properties, plus some unpropertied citizens, are his neighbors. As neighbors they have petty conflicts of interest, causes for mutual distrust and resentment, but also occasions for finding unexpected decency, even nobility, in each other.
In “I Go to Karibongdong on Rainy Days,” the family’s “new” apartment begins to leak, and an amateur tile-and-plumbing worker comes to redo the bathroom. At first, the family is fearful that the “summertime” plumber may be fleecing them and also may lack the skill to do the job properly. While the plumber exerts himself physically, the couple undergoes mental agonies. At last the plumber finishes the job at sundown and fixes the leaky spot in their roof as a “service” and asks for about a third of the agreed-upon fee, saying that the job turned out to be much smaller than expected. Thus, it is the poorer and more ignorant person who proves to be the more generous and honest. While treating him to liquor afterwards, the husband learns that the coal briquet retailer doubling as a plumber in the summer lives in a one-room basement tenement with his wife and four children and that on rainy days he goes to Karibongdong to demand money from his ex-neighbor and client who moved out of the neighborhood without paying him a cent of the 800,000 won in credit owed to him. The client opened a new and larger factory in the new neighborhood and is apparently doing a thriving business, but continues to put off paying his penurious creditor on one pretext or another.
A serious and talented writer from the beginning, Yang Guy-ja kept maturing, and her touch has become surer and her compassion deeper with the years. Her 1989 story, “Sorrow Is Sometimes an Asset,” is to my mind the best story based on the “Chongyojo” (the nationwide labor union of Korean schoolteachers, who are prohibited by law to form or join labor unions) situation. In this story Yang Guy-ja focuses on the pains of the teachers who were dismissed, as well as the inner conflicts of the former union members who left the union to keep their jobs, and the atmosphere of terror surrounding everyone suspected of unionist sympathies, rather than on the brutal and insidious [page 27] government persecution itself.
Yang Guy-ja’s ultra-feminist novel I Desire What Is Forbidden to Me exploded on the literary scene in 1992 with the force of a bombshell. The novel is based on a somewhat implausible but compelling premise: a young telephone counsellor becomes thoroughly disgusted with all the abused wives who pour out complaints and self-pity on the phone but take no action to amend their lot and instead simply wait for their husbands to reform, as if by some magic. Out of fury and frustration she decides to prove to all women that there is no such loving, caring man as they dream of who can give meaning and fulfillment to their lives. To this end, the heroine, Minju (a plausible enough feminine name, but also a homonym for “democracy”), kidnaps the most popular actor of the day, a man whose gentle, caring look and affectionate smile make all women yearn for such a mate. Her aim is not to make him her sexual toy but to wait and see how he degenerates in confinement, when deprived of all. ego props, and to expose his “real” face to all the women for whom he is a symbol and a promise.
Unconvincing as it may sound, the abduction is carried out rather plausibly in the novel. The heroine, hardened by her father’s brutal abuse of her mother and empowered by the very substantial wealth her abused-wife-turned-illegal-money-dealer mother left her, plots the abduction thoroughly, with the help of a gangster who owes her eternal loyalty on account of the favors his family received from her mother and who worships her into the bargain.
Contrary to her expectations, the actor does not degenerate shamefully nor do the mass media hullabaloo and the police investigation into his past for clues bring to light hidden scandals or misdeeds. Meanwhile, the militant heroine “tames” her helpless captive with sticks and carrots:
“ ...Won’t you give me a hint of the exposures [of your hidden past] to come? I think it might be more piquant to hear it from your own lips.”
“Please leave me alone. I’d rather watch this trash of a movie than talk to you.”
The “trash of a movie” is of course a reference to one of the videotapes I brought him yesterday. I begin to feel more interest in my prey. He is drawing me into a conversation while asking me to leave him alone. That is a sign of change. Paek Sung-ha. He is slowly slipping deeper into my trap.
“Oh, I see you have already played all seven tapes.”
He just tossed back his hair once and kept staring at the TV screen, with-out the least sign of heeding my comment. His handsome profile and the aura of seriousness that surrounds him even in his casual posture form a pleasant tableau. I watch him with the relish of a tycoon enjoying an expensive painting. . . . Actresses sell themselves to millionaires for big cheques. It should be the [page 28] same with an actor. Why not?...
I can make him do it. I can make him do anything. Whatever it is. I talk to the living object of art that I purchased with my time, money, and effort:
“Well, if such movies suit your taste, I can buy you more, any number of them.”
“Don’t talk about movies in that way.”
His tone was fierce. He looked as if I’d splashed him with dishwater.
“Aren’t you an actor, who sells his looks and smiles for big bucks?”
“Don’t think I’d put up with insults on movies. Don’t think that because I’m your captive you can profane my art as well. Movies have been my whole life. Fve never been ashamed of being an actor. Never.”
I like words that carry conviction. Regardless of what conviction. I decide to respect his conviction. He is my captive, but even captives are entitled to their convictions. I prefer my captive to have convictions of his own. So I say without sarcasm:
“All right. I admit that I spoke rudely about your art.”
He smiled faintly, the very first hint of a smile since his captivity. His first smile. That means he’s beginning to be tamed.
“If you’re thinking of buying more tapes,” he erased the screen with a touch of the remote control and went on, “could you get me tapes of Ilmaz Guini’s movies? I suppose you know Ilmaz Guini, the renowned Turkish director? I hope you can get Yol, or Sheep, or The Wall.”
He shifted his posture to lean on the wall and enumerated the names of films directed by Guini. Even a Bullet Can’t Pierce Me, Hungry Wolves, The Fugitives, Pain, Enemy, Friend, Tomorrow Is the Last Day, Anxiety, Hope....
The names of the movies were inscribed on my heart one by one as he said them. Even a bullet can’t pierce me. Enemy. Friend. Anxiety. Hope...
When the heroine sends a message to the press explaining her motive for abducting him, the polls show that seventy per cent of the public support her “experiment.” The plot takes several unpredictable turns, until the heroine is slain by her accomplice only minutes before her capture by the police. The book’s final message is not a call for militant struggle but for reconciliation. However, the book, which the author says burst out of her head in such torrents that her typing fingers were hardly able to keep up with it, develops with such vigor and urgency that it seems only natural that its author came to be regarded an arch-feminist.
The novel became a great hit, selling half a million copies in a country of 40 million people. The author thereafter tried rather to live down that success by diversifying her themes, which she was well able to do as she has broad [page 29] knowledge of and close acquaintance with so many occupations, crafts, and types of human beings. She even wrote a sentimental love story featuring ghosts and supernatural interventions, which was a phenomenal success both as a novel and later as a movie. At the moment she is gathering her strength for another major work. Korean readers have great expectations of this author who has already given them so much edification and enjoyment.
Shin Kyoung-suuk (b. 1963), in contrast, began with “feminine” subjects and stayed with them. It is no exaggeration to say that Shin reinstated the romantic love story as a legitimate branch of literature. A typical Shin Kyoung-suuk character is a woman aching from the memory of a loss of, or longing for, someone out of her reach, or about to make a renunciation. The impending or remembered loss has more power over her than the actual reality surrounding her. Social and political realities sometimes impinge on the lives of Shin’s characters, in the form of a brother evading police arrest or returned as ashes after being forcibly drafted into the army. Shin, however, simply notes the loss and pain, rather than making political points. The pervasive atmosphere, then, is resignation and the will to aestheticize suffering.
Shin Kyoung-suuk, therefore, could easily have been an anachronism in this age of militant feminism and political consciousness, but her very passivity and resignation, aided by her lyricism and tenderness, secured her a place in the hearts of readers- Even though as male-centered as any culture in the world, Koreans have long had a special empathy for feminine suffering as portrayed in literature. In the figure of an abandoned, neglected, and forgotten woman Koreans saw emblematized all the wrongs and mortifications they suffered at the hands of Fate and history. Shin shows women accepting their lot without protest and almost defining themselves by their suffering. It must be reassuring for men to think that there are (still) women who accept their desertion without protest. Even more significantly, male readers seem to identify with her women, and find something peculiarly soothing in their complete passivity. It is a relief for readers not to be urged to take up arms against political abuse and social injustice, which was the message of the socially conscious writers for over three decades or more. And Shin Kyoung-suuk’s lyrical prose is an enchantment after so much harsh rhythm and raw indignation of protest literature.
In her first short story collection, A Winter Fable (1990), the author is very much bound to her childhood and hometown. More than half of the stories in the collection have central characters who are suffering as a result of tragedy in the family. The tragedy that traumatizes and disrupts the families is most often the death of a son who was full of promise. It could also be the dis- [page 30] appearance of a son, or the elopement of a daughter, or it may take the form of an auto accident that cripples the father and turns him from an affectionate head of the family into an insanely jealous husband. The focus of these stories is the effect of these tragic incidents on the remaining family members, and the guilt and pain suffered by the daughter (girls on the verge of womanhood) on account of the devastated parents. The hopelessness of a daughter ever replacing the son is underlined again and again. Having strong attachments and fearing rejection, the daughters suffer terribly. For the readers, the evocative country scene into which the pains are interwoven, and all the daily household chores in a farmhouse, so lovingly carried out or remembered, give the suffering a dream-like quality and imbue it with poetry.
In all of her stories, the present and the past, often in many layers, constantly intersect. The present and the past complement each other. The present fears of rejection, for example, are made sharper by the memory of a rejection in the past. A facial expression of a friend or a lover recalls a similar expression once glimpsed on a parent or a childhood sweetheart. Thus, there is a strong sense that life is repetitive, that all of us are on a wheel that keeps inexorably spinning.
Her second collection, entitled Where the Organ Used to Stand (1993), shows that the author had matured remarkably in just three years. Her range and subject matter have grown much broader. Her verbal magic and her eye for poignant details have grown even finer. The scenes from her childhood in the country continue to give her stories lyricism and charm as well as rich pathos. Most importantly, her characters are much more diverse, and though still not masters or mistresses of their own destinies, at least have more force of character. Lastly, though not yet a political or sociological writer, Shin exhibits a much greater political and social awareness.
“Women Playing Shuttlecock” is an indictment of male sexual violence in effect if not in intention. A woman working at a florist’s falls in love with a photojournalist who came to her shop to take pictures of African violets for the women’s magazine he was working for. She had not taken much notice of him initially but she falls for him hopelessly when, chancing to meet her a year later, he casually drops a flirtatious compliment about her beautiful eyelashes. After trying in vain to drive him out of her mind, she dials the journal-ist’s office and ends up inviting his office mate, who answered the phone, to join her at a coffeeshop. The man, finding out that she didn’t call him out to make love to him, drags her down to the basement of the building and brutally rapes her. The rape she suffers is emblematic of what happens to a woman in a male-dominated society when she cannot ignore men’s casual passes and has[page 31] an imperfect control over her sexual urge.
In “Where the Organ Used to Stand,” the heroine is in love with a married man. In her letter to him she cites, as the reason for her refusal to flee with him abroad, her memory of her father’s mistress who came to her house to supplant her mother and thoroughly enchanted her with her beauty of face, words, and heart. But the woman left after ten days, after the children’s mother came for a visit, not to drive her out or to confront her but just to give her breast to the baby:
It was not that Mother said any rough words to her. Mother just took the baby down from the woman’s back. Was Mother tired of staying away? Or was it her way of enduring? Mother gave her breast to the baby without saying a word. Mother’s breasts were swollen fearfully, and blue veins throbbed on them. After the baby suckled the breasts for a while the veins subsided. In the spring sun mother silently suckled the baby and the woman just stood on the veranda looking down at the yard. Then Mother wrapped the sleeping baby in the quilt, put it down on the wooden floor of the veranda, and came down to the dirt floor where I was squatting. I might have been holding in my hand a piece of the rice cake the woman baked for us. Tears fill my eyes as I recall that moment. Mother undid the buttons of my jacket that were buttoned wrong, buttoned them up right, shook out the earth in my rubber shoes lying nearby, gazed into my eyes for a moment, and went away. In all, she stayed less than half an hour.
But the woman left us the next day. Before leaving, she swept the yards clean, even the back yard. I was wearing a necklace of peach blossoms. She pulled me aside and said, “Lunch is on a tray in the room. The baby has just fallen asleep. Change his diaper when he wakes up. And if your father looks for me, just tell him you don’t know when I left. You understand?
The little girl runs after the woman, to give her back her toothbrush, and the woman tells the girl through her tears, “Don’t become like me when you grow up.”
Since the stories in her second collection were more solid in structure, more haunting and poignant in atmosphere, and had better-defined characters, it was impossible not to be disappointed by her first full-length novel, Deep Sorrow (1994), a two-volume meditation on the perversity of fate that seems to find amusement in frustrating and torturing men and women. The resignation and helpless woes of the heroine of Deep Sorrow presents a glaring contrast to the militant feminism and defiant determination of Yang Guy-ja s heroine in I Desire What Is Forbidden to Me. Unso, the heroine of Deep Sorrow, is a woman who regards love as something that is beyond the human[page 32] power of resistance. She suffers from her unrequited love for Wan, a childhood pal who used to love her but has come to take her for granted and is pursuing an older woman who could give him a big career break. She is in turn loved by Se, another childhood pal who pines for her in much the same way she pines for Wan. Because she is a helpless thrall to her love, she lets herself be used by Wan for diversion and doesn’t even reproach him for his treachery and cruelty. Se, in turn, yearns for her so much that he willingly offers himself as a solace to Unso in her loneliness and pain. After Wan contracts a marriage of convenience with his female boss, Unso and Se marry. Unso continues to pine for Wan even after her marriage to Se, but the situation begins to change when Wan realizes that he still loves Unso and frantically tries to draw her into an adulterous relationship with him. Unso on her part comes to appreciate the devotion and loyalty of Se and grows to love him just at the moment when Se begins to tire of his mortifying position and turns his attention elsewhere. The end is disaster and suffering for all three main characters and most of the secondary characters. The utter passivity of the heroine is frustrating, and the lack of authorial moral judgment on the two male characters who destroy the heroine with their love and betrayal is disturbing, even though they are familiar aspects of Shin’s works. One expects more moral sinew and fiber in a novel, and some willpower and autonomy in its heroine, even in the work of a writer who tends to look upon human beings as puppets at the mercy of outward accidents and inner impulses. The novel, however, is worth reading for the many embedded stories, and the beautiful, lyrical prose. It was a phenomenal commercial success.
After her novel it was not clear where she would go next, and there was some misgiving that she might become repetitive. Soon after the novel came out, however, the author surprised the world in 1994 with the first installment of her autobiographical novel, A Desolate Room, which contained the revelation that she had been a factory girl. Shin Kyoung-suuk is the last woman one would associate with factory work. It is impossible to imagine a person so close to the earth and with such delicate sensibilities chained to a machine. It turns out, nonetheless, that Shin had been a factory worker for three years, and her autobiographical novel gives an honest first-hand report of the life of a factory worker, something which many Koreans ardently yearned to have.
The author says that the reason she has not treated that period of her life in her fiction was not shame but fear―fear of reopening the wound, fear that the pain would engulf and paralyze her. The pain comes through vividly, but Shin as an author shows restraint and control, so the story is not a gloomy tale of woe but one of endurance.
The shorter works that have come out since show that Shin’s power to recreate emotions, both delicate and intense, and the beauty of her haunting prose are undiminished.
Modernization throes and the long political uncertainties and oppression have put pressure on Koreans to be on the alert against injustices and wrongs, to be politically and socially awake. Such an attitude, however, is antipathetic to the basic character of Koreans. Shin Kyoung-suuk, having no political or social agenda, perceiving history and political reality purely as a form of personal pain, and submitting to that pain with such throbbing sensitivity, made it impossible for Koreans not to fall in love with her. For now, nobody wants her to be any different. Being only 35,however, she will have to develop and expand as a writer. There is no doubt that she will, with the help of her honesty, keen insight, consummate artistry and remarkable intelligence which are evident in all of her stories.
It has taken almost a century for women writers to secure the freedom to write just as their hearts and minds dictate. Utilizing their hard-earned freedom, women writers are raising Korean literature to new heights, injecting charm and warmth and reinforcing seriousness and power.
The Great Tumulus of Whangnam Kim, Young-Duk
The sight of grand tumuli or old tombs in Kyungju City produces strong impressions on viewers. Some are struck by the enormity of the tombs, some by the gentle round shape, and some by the mysteries related to the indentity of buried kings or queens and the origins of the so called stone-pile, wooden- chamber structure of the tombs. It was exciting, therefore, that excavation began of the biggest twin tumului, the great tumulus of Whangnam, on July 6, 1973 in the hope of unravelling the secrets of the tumuli. KBS, the Korean Broadcasting Station, produced a video telling about the excavation as one of its ten projects on the traditional cultural heritage of Korea. In the following I will try to recapture and summarize the story as depicted in the video.
Three questions come up: 1) Why is it that the famous golden crown of Silla with its decorative motif of trees and deer horns was found only in the early royal tombs of Silla? 2) Where did the peculiarly Silla style tombs of a wooden chamber covered with stones and soil come from? A possible relation between the ruling clan of the Kims of Silla and the Scythean people of the sixth century B.C. Eurasian steppe was suggested. 3) Who was buried in this great tomb?
THE ORIGIN OF SILLA TUMULI
There is a great tumulus park with about ten tumuli in the middle of Kyungju city, the capital of the Silla kingdom for a thousand years. Nothing is known about the buried kings or the dates of burial. One of the ten tumuli in the park is called the great Whangnam tumulus and is the biggest there. It is topped by a double mound.
In around the fourth or fifth century when the great tumulus of Whang-[page 36] nam was built, the typical Paekche royal tomb style was a stone pyramid. Paekche tombs along the Han River in the Seoul area were built in a pyramid style, a style similar to Koguryo tombs with three layers of stacked cut stone.
Silla Gold Crown
The structure of Silla tumuli was quite different. Silla tombs had a wooden chamber in the center of each in which there was a wooden coffin, while the floor was covered with stones. Stones were piled on and around the chamber, and finally it was covered with soil to make a rounded mound. The Whangnam great tumulus was formed by a pair of such tombs joined together.
Ancient royal tomb in Kyungju
The central burial chamber in the southern tomb had a wooden chamber holding accessories for after-life necessities.
The differences in tomb styles among the three kingdoms suggests the rulers of these kingdoms had distinct cultural traditions. The excavation at the Whangnam tumulus confirmed this. The northern part of the tumulus turned out to be a queen’s as indicated by retrieved artifacts such as a belt with an inscription “lady’s belt”, rings, and numerous other ornamental artifacts. The southern part of the tumulus belonged to a king, and contained relics of weapons, a sword with a ring fitting, and silver and gold crowns. Even bone fragments were found indicating the age of the king to have been about sixty. More surprising was the finding of bone fragments belonging to a fifteen year old girl, who was buried to serve as an after-life attendant. This confirmed the writings in the Three Kingdoms Chronicles about the custom of sacrificial burial.
Who could the king, buried in the Whangnam tumulus with so many splendid golden artifacts, be? To find out who the king buried in that great tomb was, we checked the Samguk-sagi or Three Kingdoms Chronicles. It recorded that in October of the twenty-third year of his reign, King Michu passed away and was buried in the great tomb park area. He is known to have been the first king to be buried there. According to the Chronicles, King Pob-hung passed away in July of the twenty-seventh year of his reign and was [page 38] buried on the hill north of Aegongsa. This was the first instance of a king’s being buried on a hill instead of on flat land. This suggests that kings were buried in the great tomb park from King Michu on down to the king preceding King Pobhung. It turns out that Pobhung accepted Buddhism as the state religion to replace shamanism in 527 A.D.
After ten kings had been buried in the great tomb park, burial customs changed drastically, and the traditinal crown was not worn anymore. One can guess, therefore, who the king buried in the Whangnam tumulus was by searching for a king who had reason to build the biggest tomb in the tomb park. Around the beginning of the Christian era, the Park clan settled in Sora- bul, or the land of Silla, to rule, but soon another clan, the Suk clan, moved in from the sea to overpower the Park clan. Next the Kim clan emerged as the rulers in the middle of the third century, and King Michu was the first ruler from the Kim clan. The Suk clan reclaimed power for a while after King Michu’s reign only to yield to the Kims once more. Where did the Kim clan, as the victor among the three clans, come from? A legend says that the founder of the Kim clan originated in the Kyerim forest in Kyungju, where a golden box came down from heaven to a tree in the forest. It contained a baby who grew to become the founder, Kim Alchi, of the Kim or golded clan of Silla.
Now we look for archeological findings in another area to trace the origin of the Kim clan as well as the origin of the tomb culture. On Ukok Plateau, (7,500 feet alt.) in the Altai region of Russia close to the Chinese border between Mongolia in the east and Kazakstan in the west, an excavation team dug up a kurgan or burial mound which was 2,400 years old and unlooted. There they found the mummified body of a lady in a log coffin. She had tatoos of deer on her wrist and shoulder and her head faced east. What interests us most is the structure of the kurgan. Inside it a log funerary chamber was buried under a stone pile, and a log coffin was found in the chamber with food and other artifacts in vessels while horses in splendid trappings were found against the north wall of the chamber. This appeared quite similar to the structure of the early Silla tomb. In this and other kurgans there were abundant artifacts made of gold and with animal motifs.
Many tribes arose on the Eurasian steppe in ancient times. They created a Scytho-Siberian culture throughout the steppes. Scytheans were depicted by the Greek historian Herodotus as a powerful semi-nomadic people who lived north of the Black Sea between 800 and 100 B.C. and shared with people in other parts of the steppe a uniform artistic style dominated by animal motifs, a love of horses, and burial customs. The steppes are, however, so vast, more than 3,000 miles from the Black Sea to the Great Wall of China, that the cul-[page 39] tures of the tribes within a certain area probably overlapped and the Scythians never came directly in contact with other horsemen from the East. Here then we find a link between the burial customs of Silla and those of the peoples of the Euro-Siberian steppe.
THE GOLDEN CROWN
Many golden artifacts were found in both the northern and southern parts of the Whangnam tomb. In the northern coffin alone more than 3.75 kilograms of golden artifacts were found. These artifacts display the highest level of aesthetic achievement. The excavation was initially made on the northern part of the tomb. It yielded the most splendid gold crown, in fact not only a gold crown but also a large quantity of gold and silver artifacts. These included eleven bracelets, twelve rings, earrings, a belt, silver vessels, and silver cups with various animal motifs. The gold bracelets were made of two layers of gold plate with jewels embedded in them. Several pieces of glassware in various colors and designs were also found.
The excavation of the southern part of the tumulus took two years beginning in 1973, and many gold artifacts were found there also, including weapons, especially a sword with a ring fitting on the handle. A gold crown was also found there. These gold crowns were adorned with three or four trees and several deer horns, which were in turn adorned with comma shaped jade pendants and gold flakes.
What could these adornments symbolize? Why did the royal Kim clan adopt these symbols? The symbol of tree and deer horn, surprisingly, is linked with the shamanism practiced throughout Siberia. In their rituals Siberian shamans made use of sacred trees. It was believed that the soul of a shaman could reach heaven by climbing a tree and then reach back to earth through a tree, and thus serve as an intermediary for men between heaven and earth. Thus a shaman can heal a sick man, prophesy his future, and perform rituals such as rain making. Their songs, dances, drums, and costumes all reflected these roles in a symbolic manner. Many of these shamans on the Eurasian steppe wore headgear adorned with deer horns.
What is the symbolic significance of a deer horn? On the Eurasian steppe deer were considered very precious and even holy from time immemorial since deer were important sources of food and had many other uses, so deer were not only hunted but also revered. These beliefs were reflected in the dress of shamans who wore headgear adorned with deer horn symbols as seen[page 40] in some on display at the Krisnoyask Museum or others in documentary films of Siberian shamans. Deer horn tatoos were also found on the shoulder of a shaman mummy of the fifth or sixth century B.C. A tree represented a holy symbol of communion with heaven for a shaman. Sometimes a shaman’s ritual mask had three trees decorating it instead of a deer horn.
When trees are placed together with deer horn headgear, the design matches that of a Silla king’s crown, but this sort of combination of ritual symbols was not found among the Siberian shamans. A golden crown with a design of tree and deer horns was, however, found in the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg in Russia. This crown was excavated in the Sarmach area near the Black Sea and was dated in the first century A.D. This area is thousands of kilometers away from Silla, so what could the connection be?
The area to the north of the Black Sea was occupied by the Scytheans, a nomadic people who came to the area from the east and held sway over the area from the eighth to the second century B.C. They were aggressive horse riders who loved decorating themselves and their horses with golden ornaments with animal motifs. The Eurasian steppe served as a passageway linking and spreading the shaman culture as well as a culture of gold and horses throughout the Eurasian steppe from the Black Sea to the Great Wall of China, a distance of over eight thousand kilometers. The steppe was dominated after the Scytheans by many different tribes at different times. These included the Huns, Turks, and Mongols. In spite of the changes in dominant people, the horse culture remained. Silla’s rulers were also horse riders and horse lovers, which is evident from the finds of numerous equestrian trappings and accessories as well as horse bones in the tombs.
One of the unusual artifacts found in one of the tombs was a saddle bow which was gold-plated and decorated with irridescent beetle wings. There are many relics related to horses from the great tomb park. One tumulus yielded a horse painting on a piece of birch bark. It depicted a white horse with flying mane galloping above a cloud. These remains demonstrate that the royal members of the Kim clan of early Silla buried in the tumulus park were horse riders. This custom of burying horse equipment and horses as a sacrifice was shared by the Scytheans and other nomadic peoples of the steppe.
Inevitably the conclusion is that the royal Kim clan came from among these horse riding nomadic people of the Eurasian steppe. At the time Silla built their tombs with wooden chambers and stone piles, the steppe was dominated by the Huns. The Hun tribe had features like those of the Mongols and had occupied the Altai area in Russia since the first century A.D. They were called Hyungnu by the Chinese. The Hun culture was similar to that of the [page 41] Scytheans. They had totem poles and possessed comma shaped jewels and kurgans. The Huns dominated the steppe around the beginning of the Christian era, and fought against many peoples living on the borders of the steppe to maintain their control over it.
A group of Huns advanced westward to the Black Sea area and further west to establish the Atilla Kingdom in Hungary around the fifth century. At this time of movement and confusion a group of Huns in the Altai area chose to move to the east, and perhaps they eventually reached the Korean peninsula. It was around the fourth or fifth century that the tombs of wood and stone appeared in Kyungju. The kurgans of the Huns before the Christian era were also wooden chambers and rock piles. The Huns buried a mummified body with a death mask and equestrian trappings and weapons in the wooden chamber. Numerous tombs or kurgans remain in the Altai area waiting to be explored. When this is done, we may find further evidence of a link between the Huns and the Silla people.
THE OCCUPANT OF THE GREAT TOMB
Mich’u was the first king of Silla from the Kim royal family. The Kims were succeeded by the Suk clan, and they in turn were replaced by the Kim clan again. It is known that King Pophung accepted Buddhism as the state religion in 527 A.D. and adopted Tang Chinese institutions in the judicial and other organisations of the state. During the reign of King Pophung traditional shamanism was dismissed and the golden crown gave way to silk headgear, and royal burials took place on a hill with a stone chamber with a side opening instead of a kurgan-like tomb with a wooden chamber under a stone pile, so it is believed that the king and queen in the Whangnam tomb must precede King Pophung.
There is, however, scant indication of which particular king is the occupant. The retrieved burial goods include 34,550 ornamental artifacts, 175 pieces of weaponry, 758 items of horse trappings, and 192 vessels in the northern tomb alone, and yet no direct evidence exists of the identity of the occupant. A small ceramic bottle with a dark brown glaze suggests a date later than the early fifth century, while carbon dating suggests fifth or sixth century as the possible date of the tomb. It was tentatively suggested, therefore, that one of two kings was a possible candidate as the occupant of the tomb: the seventeenth king, Naemul (351 to 402 A.D.), or the twentieth king, Chabi (458 to 479 A.D.). According to the report on the excavation, however, it has [page 42] been suggested by historians that perhaps King Naemul and his consort are the occupants of the tumuli, since he was responsible for the continued rule over Silla by the Kim royal family.
We still do not know exactly who is buried in the great tomb of Whangnam.
K.B.S. Video, The Whangnam Great Tomb.
Bureau of National Cultural Treasures. (1985). Report on the Excavation of the Whangnam Great Tomb.
National Geography, Vol. 186,No. 4 9; (Oct. 1994).
The North Korean Struggle for Survival: 1980-1990 Sofie Bosma
Much has been said about the North Korean isolation from the world and its ambiguous relations with its powerful neighbours, China and the Soviet Union. In the eighties, however, many changes, both in the international and national environment, influenced this North Korean isolation. It is the aim of this paper not to examine the changing external factors that may have influenced North Korean behaviour in this critical period, but to look at internal political and economic factors that are just as important to the behavioural aspects of the regime.
The eighties saw a slowdown in the economic growth that, at first, had surpassed that of its South Korean rival. Consequently, North Korea had to break free from the self-imposed isolation of its juch’e ideology. Self-reliance had always been an important factor in North Korean politics, although it did trade with other countries, mainly China and the Soviet Union. When these ideological brothers started to turn away from certain socialist economic theories, and even become friendly with former archrivals from the mid-eighties onward, North Korea was left abandoned on a road it could not follow. The ideological system, the juch’e ideal, was the cornerstone of the regime’s legitimacy without which it would surely not have survived. It also prevented the regime from undertaking those reforms that its neighbours were so eagerly embracing.
The eighties also saw the successful rise of Kim Jong II, the future leader of the nation, and his allies. Economic well-being was essential to enable him to build up the necessary popularity and legitimacy, and he appears as the author of a number of economic measures over this period. In order to understand the economic developments of the eighties it is necessary to go back briefly in time.
[page 44] THE HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE
The North Korean economy is one of the last and strongest centralized command economies in the world, and all means of production, distribution, and exchange are owned by the state or by co-operatives, since private ownership is a concept that is said not to exist. Economic goals are set by the state by means of plans that cover a certain time span, and planning is thus a central aspect of the economy. Consequently, economic needs and targets are determined by the state and drafted by the State Planning Commission which falls under the legislation of the Administration Council. All state and co-operative enterprises are required to conform to pre-set targets. Economic policy, however, differs from that of other socialist states in its ideological emphasis on self-reliance. It is primarily an inward looking economy that focuses on the domestic market through a strategy of import substitution, hence the priority given to heavy industry which, theoretically, would supply the economy with the means of production to further develop the light industry, agricultural, and armaments sectors.
Upon independence in 1945 expropriation was started by allocating land that was formerly owned by the Japanese and privately owned plots exceeding five hectares to landless peasants, thus creating a small, rural economy of owner operated farms. This was, however, interrupted by the Korean War of 1950,when all efforts and funds were diverted to the war. Post-war reconstruction presented a major challenge as the war had left the country devastated. Financial help was provided by the traditional North Korean allies, the Soviet Union and China. In 1957,the first Five Year Economic Plan (1957- 1961) was launched. It primarily emphasized heavy industry development, and was completed one year early in 1960. By 1958 land reform had been completed, which meant that all farms were organized into co-operatives with the ultimate goal of being transformed into state farms. These farms are government owned and often more mechanized and specialized than the co-operatives. Kim II Sung referred to them as “ownership by all the people.”
This period was marked by rapid industrial growth with stress on self-suf- ficiency. Accordingly, the state implemented the Chollima Movement. It aimed at inducing speedy economic development and socialist construction through ideological and technological revolutions. More specifically, it urged workers to produce more in a shorter period and was loosely modeled on the Great Leap Forward in China, although its effects were far less disruptive. A similar campaign was used to whip up productivity in the agricultural sector in 1960. This was the Chongsanri Method. It required administrative personnel [page 45] to follow Kim II Sung’s example of on-the-spot guidance by talking to the workers in the fields and improving their ideological education. These mass mobilization movements had a strong ideological character, and replaced the economic incentives found in the capitalist system by a form of worker motivation based on loyalty to the leader. The First Seven Year Plan (1961-1967) focused on defense issues and once again on heavy industry. This period was marked by a slowdown in industrial growth. Consequently, the Seven Year Plan was extended by three years and did not end until 1970,although even then industrial output lagged behind the set target of 18%.
A new campaign, the Tae-an System, was implemented in the industrial sector to improve output. In practice, the program centralized industrial management under the auspices of the Korean Workers Party. In the second half of the sixties South Korea started to outstrip North Korea in economic growth. This was another thorn in the side for the leadership of the country. Industrial output had slowed for a number of reasons. In the first place, there had been a large increase in defense expenditures at the expense of other sectors. Furthermore, the economy had become increasingly complex, with a strong centralized bureaucracy that became more inflexible over time, and failed to respond to the immediate needs of the economy. This resulted in severe bottlenecks and production below capacity. In the early sixties foreign aid also decreased, especially that of the Soviet Union, which was even halted in 1963-1964.
Moreover, the Chollima campaign had distorted the economy through the production of poor quality goods in the rush to meet new targets. Thus the seventies loomed dismally on the horizon whilst the government attempted to re-examine its economic policy. This resulted in a new Seven Year Plan (1971-1976) that focused on those areas that had been identified as bottlenecks in the sixties, namely mining and electric power. Nevertheless, it continued to emphasize heavy industry whilst, for the first time, the government started looking to Western Europe and Japan for the import of plants and machinery and economic assistance. Imports from non-communist countries, which had been a mere 11% in 1971, shot up to 60% in 1974. This, in turn, led to an accumulation of foreign debts and eventually to the default of debt payments in late 1974. These measures were, however, not effective and the economy continued to be plagued by the same bottlenecks with the added burden of transportation problems. The Three Revolutions Teams movement was implemented in 1973 under the leadership of Kim Jong II to try to meet the pre-set goals. The idea was that teams of young specialists were to be sent out to improve production techniques and to further encourage revolutionary zeal, revolutions which were ideological, technical, and cultural. In practice it was a[page 46] purely ideological movement that sought to re-emphasize the importance of juch’e and self-reliance and to exhort the population to work even harder whilst it attacked bureaucratic inefficiency. It also symbolized the start of Kim Jong Il’s rise to power in the party, whereby he was closely identified with the propagation of ideological indoctrination, thus fulfilling the classical role of the mentor of the people whilst also providing him with a loyal power base. The Three Revolutions were followed by the Seventy Day Speed Battle of 1974,which aimed to speed up production and surpass targets. All to no avail; 1977 was declared a year of adjustment as planned targets were not met and time was needed to prepare a new plan which would continue in the spirit of the Three Revolutions. Thus North Korea faced the eighties with large debts that had to be rescheduled in the late seventies, an increasingly sluggish bureaucracy, and complex economy, whilst industrial targets had not been met. High defense expenditures and overemphasis on the heavy industry sector had diverted investment away from other sectors, especially that of light industry and consumer goods.
THE EARLY EIGHTIES: REVIEW OF ECONOMIC POLICY AND A PERIOD OF ADJUSTMENT
The Second Seven Year Plan (1978-1984) continued to reflect the spirit of the Three Revolutions Movement, that placed emphasis on ideological education under the juch’e banner and modernization in economic development. Following the disastrous effects of the government’s venture into the world market, it is hardly surprising that the new plan did not mention foreign trade, and instead focused on the importance of juch’e and self-reliance in economic development. The plan was presented to the Supreme People’s Assembly by Premier Li Jong-ok in December 1977. It called for the traditional increase in industrial output and targeted an increase of 2.2 times by 1984. It also concentrated on the previously identified bottlenecks of mining, electrical power, and coal production needed to supply power plants with energy. Consumer goods were not an important part of the new plan, yet 60% of these were to be supplied by local production. The absence of any reference to foreign trade and the increased weight given to self-reliance were reflected by a speech given by Kye Ung-tae, at the time vice premier and minister of foreign trade to the Supreme People’s Assembly. It concentrated on the need to increase domestic production by making use of previously imported technology, but in 1979 foreign trade had risen to levels double those in 1977 and 1978.
The eighties appeared on a more optimistic note. On the occasion of the Sixth Congress of the Korean Workers Party in 1980, Kim II Sung gave a speech in which he supplanted the goals previously set by the Second Seven Year Plan with others that aimed at higher increases in production. These were the so-called ten long-range goals of socialist economic construction:
We have every possibility of attaining the new, magnificent long-range goals of socialist, economic construction. The independent national economy we have already built has tremendous potentialities, and our country is blessed with abundant natural wealth and unlimited scientific and technological resources which can be newly exploited and used in the future.
Clearly, Kim stresses the importance of self-reliance and the need to exploit more fully and effectively existing resources independent of foreign aid. His aim was to increase industrial output by 3.1 times by the end of the eighties, a higher target than that of the Second Seven Year Plan (see Appendix). Yet, contrary to the Li Jong-ok speech of 1977,Kim does mention the importance of foreign trade in the future development of the economy, whilst stressing the need to promote foreign trade, which should be based purely on export until such time as the country could afford to import anew:
One of the important questions arising now in the economic development of our country is how to promote foreign trade quickly. By developing foreign trade quickly in the future, we should actively export those goods that are produced in large quantities in our country and in great demand abroad, and import in time those goods which we need... In this way, by the end of the 1980s our annual exports should increase more than 4.2 times.
The experience of the early seventies, which had led to a rescheduling of debts at the end of the decade, had left the leadership wary of foreign trade and technology, but as trade had picked up by 1979, Kim became more optimistic in his speech to the Sixth Congress. Unfortunately, over the period of 1980-1983,foreign trade slipped back from the level it had reached in 1979, so Kim II Sung did not mention the issue in his 1982 and 1983 New Year speeches, and relied instead on a renewed emphasis on juch’e out of necessity, thus further isolating the country. Instead, Kim’s speeches concentrated on the need to improve coal production and consequently power. Indeed, in the 1980 speech he held that thermal power capacity had doubled over the decade of the seventies, but by 1982 he realized that coal production was not sufficient to sustain this and there was a shift back to an emphasis on hydro-electric power.
The Speed of the Eighties Movement encouraged the people to work even harder in an effort to improve industrial output and stimulate economic[page 48] growth. This movement was launched in the early eighties under Kim Jong II, as this was the period during which he was increasingly made responsible for the initiation of such movements. By late 1983 it became plain to see that, faced with slow economic growth and low international credibility because of the defaulting of payments on debts, the government could not hide behind the idea of self-reliance as a stimulant to economic expansion; more important was the need for investment. The country needed foreign capital to upgrade its production apparatus and consequently increase the production of consumer goods as the population was suffering from a lack of material incentives and even such basic commodities as food and clothing. Kim II Sung accentuated this problem in a speech given in 1979:
If only the work norms are raised without increasing rewards to the working people, they will dislike the increases in work norms, but if the living allowances, bonuses, and incentive allowances to the workers are increased in accordance with the increase in work norms, they will actually strive to improve techniques, economize on labour and materials, and produce more.
With this in mind the country applied for loans from its allies and international organizations. In 1983 it agreed to a project loan from the United Nations Development Program (UNDP). The loan covered the period from 1983-1986 and aimed to upgrade national industry, science and technology, agriculture, transportation and communication, and natural resources development. Nationally, it also launched new programs, which aimed at stimulating light industry. Limited economic reform, which was perceived necessary, slowly took form in the minds of the leadership.
CRISIS AND REFORM: POLICY ADAPTATION 1984-1990
In his speech on the thirty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea in September 1983, Kim Il Sung declared that the ten long-range goals of 1980 should encompass a more satisfactory solution of the food and clothing problems, the most important and urgent problems in the people’s lives. This anticipated a change in policy, that was to be implemented over the next year, and hinted at the increased difficulties of the North Korean economy as apparently it had difficulty filling the basic needs of the people. The second issue that was to emerge in 1984 was that of foreign trade. Previously, in 1982, Kim II Sung had already visited China and gone with Deng Xiaoping on a special guided tour to the new special economic zones that[page 49] China had implemented under its reform program. Kim Jong II visited China in 1983. This indicated that the leadership was examining the possibility of economic reform or limited opening up to the world. The inauguration of Kang Song-san as the new premier in January 1984 seemed to confirm this idea, as he was known for his economic expertise and commitment to the improvement of living standards. The same month saw the adoption of a resolution by the Supreme People’s Assembly “on further strengthening north- south cooperation and external economic work and further developing foreign trade”. It stated that the government had long emphasized the importance of foreign trade and, now that a strong self-reliant economy had been established, it was time to expand trade and other forms of technical and economic cooperation:
Only by widely developing external economic relations, including trade, can we accelerate the country’s economic construction and improve the people’s living standards.
At the same meeting a number of administrative reforms were implemented in the areas of domestic and foreign affairs. The most important of these was the creation of a new Economic Policy Committee under the Central People’s Committee. Furthermore, the appointment of Kang Song-san was made public at the same meeting, and he presented the resolution. Clearly, in the minds of the leadership the two issues were now interlinked and the opening of the country was seen as imperative to the improvement of economic conditions. This led to the implementation of the Joint Venture Law on 8 September 1984:
It is a consistent external economic policy of the KWP and the government of the Republic to expand and develop economic and technical interchange and cooperation with many countries of the world. The DPRK encourages joint ventures between its companies and enterprises with foreign companies, enterprises and individuals within its boundaries on the principle of equality and reciprocity.
Two months after adoption of this twenty-six article law, Yun Gi-bok, Vice Chairman of the new Economic Policy Commission of the Central Committee, outlined the rules and regulations covering the law. These allowed the establishment of joint ventures between North Korean and foreign companies,, including companies from Western Europe, and including only those countries that “respect our sovereignty and independence”, and Koreans resident in Japan. Investment was called for in the fields of electronics, automation equip- [page 50] ment, metallurgy, mining, energy, chemicals, foodstuffs, clothes, daily necessities, construction, transportation, and tourism. Imports of goods for joint ventures were to be exempt from tariffs, as were profits for the first three years, and subsequently set at 25% adjustable downwards depending on profit levels. Within a year the government claimed to have concluded ten joint ventures, whilst it was negotiating for thirty others.
A further measure implemented in late 1984 was that of the August the Third Drive for People’s Consumer Goods, under the auspices of Kim Jong II. Kim Jong II emphasized the need to increase the supply of consumer goods by “means of tapping and using by-products, waste materials, and other local reserves”. The aim was to increase the production of goods such as clothes, shoes, utensils, and furniture by using waste materials, hard work, and innovation. Local industry would produce for local consumption under local administrative districts. Kim Jong Il declared that direct sale shops should be built up in each district of Pyongyang to meet the increasing demand of the citizens for daily necessities in keeping with the strengthening of home workshops. Thus products were sold directly to consumers through direct sale stores. Although this signified that the leadership had realized that there was a need to improve the light industry sector, it did not signal an actual move to improve the sector at the macro-economic level. The program merely sought to improve production by the utilization of local reserves using the by-products of the heavy industry sector, which reflects a shortage of resources to develop the light industry sector effectively. In Kim II Sung’s New Year speech in 1985, he noted the importance that should be given to the improvement of the population’s living standards, but the emphasis was still placed on mining, transportation, and steel production. Thus there was no significant shift to the development of the light industry sector.
The Second Seven Year Plan was due to be completed by the end of 1984,yet Kim made no mention of it in his New Year speech wherein he only announced the successful fulfillment of the economic plan for 1984. This was already indicated at the Tenth plenary meeting of the Sixth KWP Central Committee on December 10 when the meeting pointed out that:
Great successes have been achieved in attaining the targets of the Second Seven Year Plan this year by accelerating production and construction with the spirit of adding the “speed of the eighties, to chollima in all areas of the national economy and in achieving the ten major prospective targets in socialist construction for the 1980s.
Eventually, in February 1985, the Central Statistics Board reported the[page 51] overfulfillment of the Seven Year Plan. It claimed this in terms of industrial gross output value: industrial output was said to have manifested a growth of 2.2 times and the average annual growth rate reached 12.2%. Furthermore, according to the released figures, peaks in coal, cement, chemical fertilizer, textiles, and marine products were also realized. As no new plan was announced, however, until 1987,it is now assumed that these figures were not entirely accurate, and that real growth had taken place in the period 1978-1980 when plants built with foreign technology had started to operate, whereas growth slowed significantly in the early eighties.
In the period preceding the announcement of the new plan, Kang Song- san’s leadership in matters of economic policy reflected the awareness of the elites for the need to open the economy to the world, and that national economic development was thus linked to that of other countries:
It is imperative that exchanges of information and experience in the pro-duction of commodities, scientific technology and production technology occur between countries... this is a realistic need for the construction of a socialist economy.
It was realized that the development of light industry necessitated foreign aid. Throughout 1985,following the rise to power of Gorbachev in March and the implementation of perestroika and glasnost, the press carried editorials that focused on economic laws such as “the principle of value,” which suggested that more emphasis was to be placed on material incentives to encourage production, such as cost, price, and profit, although priority was to be given to political work. In practice, however, these discussions remained general in substance and resulted in only a few changes in economic policy. These involved a certain degree of decentralization of the decision making process and affected state industrial enterprises that had already achieved a certain degree of individual autonomy from central power since the sixties in the form of an independent accounting system that aimed to increase efficiency.
In 1981 responsibility was decentralized to the provinces under provincial committees for economic guidance that were responsible for managing the economic activities of the province. In 1985, however, the government established an integrated enterprise system whereby complementary enterprises were brought together under one unit to promote efficiency and reduce the problems of bottlenecks. The revised independent accounting system that emerged in 1985 gave enterprises more room for independent decision making concerning production input factors and greater discretionary powers. Furthermore, they were permitted to retain a part of excess profits for expansion and[page 52] provide material incentives to their employees. The system focused on the operational side of production whereas production output, such as prices, product, and marketing remained under central government control The government viewed it as a system of a transitory nature which combined central management by the state with autonomous management by the enterprise:
The independent accounting system is a managerial method that heightens the responsibility and initiatives of the enterprise while firmly guaranteeing the state’s centralized, planned management.... therefore, the independent accounting system must be used as a means of scientifying and rationalizing management that responds to the various economic laws operating in the socialist society.
Thus a certain degree of adaptation was deemed necessary by the leadership, but reform remained under strict government control, and the changes reflected a growing unease about the production of consumer goods rather than about the necessity of far reaching economic reform and decentralization along Chinese lines.
With the removal of Kang Song-san from the economic scene and the appointment of Li Gun-mo as his successor, a new economic plan was finally approved in 1987. The preceding two years had been governed by the National Economic Plan for 1985 that aimed to readjust the economy, or in other words to allow extra time to enable the completion of those targets that had not been met. Officially only the goals of electricity and steel fell short of their targets. More to the point, in practice, the goals of the Second Seven Year Plan had clearly not been achieved. In the words of Li Gun-mo himself:
This was a wise policy to consolidate the successes achieved in socialist economic construction during the Second Seven Year Plan, and to realize suc-cessfully the ten major prospective targets of socialist economic construction set forth by the Party Congress by comprehensively exerting the might of the economic base already built.
Throughout 1986, however, reports emerged that the country was suffering from shortages, especially of raw materials- This was confirmed by the emergence of new mass campaigns, such as Produce More With Less Raw Materials in mid 1986. In the field of consumer goods, employees were encouraged to organize side job, work teams in factories and cooperative farms to boost the production of daily necessities, which indicated that no major progress had been made in this field. At the Eleventh Plenary Meeting of the Sixth Central Committee of the KWP, held in February, the need to[page 53] solve the problem of scientific and technological development was addressed, to break new ground in the fields of laser, ultra high-pressure physics, cell engineering, and the introduction of computers. It is clear that the leadership fully realized the need to update the economy, and the only way to achieve this would be through foreign co-operation and exchange. No doubt the appointment of Li Gun-mo, one of the most progressive premiers in the history of the country, was made with this in mind. The visit of Premier Honecker of East Germany in late 1986 seemed to confirm the fact that the government was actively seeking technical assistance, even more so as the new economic plan was announced during his stay. The new Third Seven Year Plan (1987- 1993) was approved by the SPA at its second session in April, 1987 upon its presentation to the assembly by premier Li Gun-mo. In essence the plan was a four year extension of the future ten major targets adopted by Kim Il Sung in 1980 that was scheduled for completion by 1989; only now completion was deferred until 1993. The new plan again focused on the problem of electricity with an aimed output of 100 billion kilowatt-hours per year. To this aim most power was to be generated by expanding existing thermal power plants combined with nuclear power plants that were to be built with Soviet assistance. Indeed, the first of these had been completed in 1985. The problems facing steel production had not been solved as the target set by the Third Seven Year Plan was one third below that set by Kim II Sung in 1980:
Considering the changed circumstances and the demands of the people’s economy, our party and the government of the Republic have decided to adjust the steel production target among the 10-Iong range goals. ...Today, throughout the world, the rolled steel market is sluggish. As a result, in many countries steelworks are unable to operate properly.
Concerning the issue of consumer goods, Li’s report referred to more smoothly solving the question of food, clothing, and housing, suggesting that the issue remained a problem and no significant improvements had been made. Because the consumer industry relies on local production on a small scale (the side-work teams were another method or increasing production at a local level), black market activities started to emerge. These are known as farmer markets. They function like a normal free market with ready availability of goods superior in quality to those sold in state markets. They are said to account for about 10% of the market and are tolerated by the government if for private needs.
With the economy slowing significantly, or even facing a crisis, over the second part of the eighties, the country was increasingly faced with a Jack of the resources needed to re-launch growth. Nothing had been done to solve the problem of huge foreign debts and in late 1987 the government could no longer meet the interest payments on its debt of $779 million, and North Korean assets abroad were frozen. The country was in dire need of foreign currency and, with this in mind, the new plan increased the targets for a number of export products, such as non-ferrous metals and marine products, whilst it also aimed to increase foreign trade 3.2 times. The joint venture law had not yielded the expected results and foreign capital was not drawn into the country. It had mainly attracted loyal Korean residents in Japan, known by the name of chongryon, and a few investments from China and the Soviet Union. The ideological rigidity, uncertain profitability, and lack of international credibility seem to have been the main deterrents, especially for western investors. Furthermore, bad communications and infrastructure combined with limited markets could not convince prospective investors of the economic viability of launching upon such a risky scheme. The construction, which started in 1984, of a large 46-story hotel in a joint venture with a French firm, came to a standstill in 1985 whilst the hotel remained uncompleted. At the end of 1989 most of the joint ventures, including chongryon entrepreneurs, were reportedly 102 in number. Most of these were operating by early 1990 and were in the form of small-scale factories specializing in consumer goods. In April 1987, North Korea’s first golf club, the product of a joint Japanese North Korean effort, was opened in Pyongyang, presumably to the great joy of the Japanese investors.
Kim Il Sung’s New Year’s message of 1988 differed greatly from that of 1987; indeed it reaffirmed the importance of juch’e in carrying out the three revolutions and did not mention the need for foreign technology and capital. The appointment of Yon Hyong-muk around the same time was presumably made with this in mind. Known for his commitment to the juch’e idea, it signaled a return to a more conservative approach to foreign trade, but the Thirteenth Plenary Session of the Sixth Central Committee of the KWP discussed the development of science and technology, and especially the importance of electronics and biotechnology, to achieve the modernization of the people’s economy. This could hardly be achieved indigenously without the aid of foreign inputs; hence the words of the leader contradicted actual economic policy. It could be that propaganda was seen as a measure to prevent foreign penetration from influencing North Korean society which in turn would undermine the regime. If the population strongly believed in the juch’e ideal whilst con- [page 55] demning the rest of the world, any contradictory reports emanating from foreign sources could be dismissed as propaganda and loyalty to the regime ensured.
In the same speech Kim Il Sung admitted that the country was suffering from shortages of food, clothing, and housing, fairly necessary items. The World Festival of Youth and Students, held in Pyongyang in 1989,further contributed to the economic difficulties facing the regime. The country had to bear the full cost of the event, and unlike South Korea, which recouped most of the cost of the 1988 Olympics through commercial fees, did not recoup any. The cost was estimated by the government at $4.5 billion. In the second half of the eighties, North Korea had embarked on, albeit limited, economic reforms five years after those of China and a year before those of the Soviet Union. By the time changes were sweeping through the former Eastern Block, which were perceived as a serious threat by the North Korean government, the country found itself in a serious economic crisis which had led it to rely more strongly on the idea of self-sufficiency notwithstanding the realization that foreign exchange was to be the only effective medicine. The question remained of how to administer it without undermining the political system of the country.
THE REDEFINITION OF JUCH’E AS A MEANS OF POLITICAL SURVIVAL
The move in the late eighties to open up the economy was implemented under a leadership whose political philosophy remained that of juch’e and self-reliance which underpinned the entire legitimacy of the regime. Over the last forty odd years the political system had revolved around this concept. It has been cited as the basis of North Korea’s claim to an important position among other developing countries, because, in theory, it does not rely on any major power for support. It has also been a strong component in the propaganda battle with South Korea, as it could claim moral superiority over a ‘corrupt’ leadership that had sold its soul to foreign powers for economic gain and military protection. To reconcile the new economic moves with its political philosophy, the latter would have to be adapted to include new concepts without losing any of the power which had enabled the leadership to justify its rule for over forty years. The political element would, however, remain more important than the economic components, as the entire system is built on abstract political concepts. Juch’e had to remain the only existing philosophy if the regime were to survive and not lose credibility. Furthermore, in a strictly con-[page 56] trolled society where the population has no knowledge of the outside world, not indeed of the fact that North Korea might not quite be a ‘paradise on earth’, the move away from excessive self-reliance could in itself be construed as a failure of the system. This had to be prevented at all costs, and that is one of the reasons that the reforms were far more limited than those of China in the late seventies or those of Vietnam in the late eighties. The collapse of socialism that spread throughout the Soviet empire in the late eighties was a further threat to the socialist elements that were the foundation of the juch’e philosophy. The failure of the socialist system combined with an economic crisis, which could only be salvaged by opening the country’s economy to foreign exchange, threatened the entire political legitimacy of the regime. Consequently, the only way to survival was through adjustment of the political philosophy, first by redefining it to encompass other forms of economic development and secondly by disassociating juch’e from other forms of socialism.
In the early period following the 1984 Joint Venture Law the regime was largely in favor of economic opening, as witnessed by Kim Il Sung’s New Year’s addresses and the goals of the 1984 and the 1987 Seven Year Plans. In the late eighties, however, notably in 1988,there was a move back to reaffirming the importance of self-reliance for economic development. In fact, following the decision to open the economy the government had been increasingly concerned with the possibility of adverse impact from abroad. Leading newspapers started warning the population of the dangers of capitalist influence:
The victory of socialism in our society can be secured only when we eradicate the dangers that may induce us to return to capitalism.
The reform movements that were sweeping through the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe were strongly criticized in the press and emphasis was put on the successful transfer of power to Kim Jong Il in order to avoid any possible factionalism and social unrest. Internally the renewed emphasis on juch’e was further strengthened and adapted to the changing political circumstances. In 1986 a new theory appeared, under Kim Jong Il’s name. This was known as the Social Political Life Theory which applied a “biological-organic” theory to juch’e ideology. In fact it compared the relationship between leader and followers to that of parents and children and was meant as a justification of the population’s remaining loyal to the leader:
Nothing is more important to an individual than human life. Of all forms of life, socio-political life is more important than physical life, and social group life is more important than individual life. Only by relying on social group life can individual life be possible. Thus, when an individual is loyal to his Leader-[page 57] party-people, the origin of his own life, he is doing it out of the intrinsic need of his socio-political life, not because someone is asking him to do so. This is because being loyal is not for others, but for himself.
The leader, of course, is the centre of the social group, and as such loyalty must be extended to him unconditionally:
In our country, everyone regards and supports the leader as they would their own father. They trust and follow the party, regarding its embrace as that of their own mother. The leader, the party and the people form one socio-political organism, and share the same destiny.
As the theory carried Kim Jong Il’s name, an analogy can be drawn with the role of his father, and it is clear that the content of juch’e, over all these years, has not significantly changed and still carries strong Confucian origins. In the same year Kim Jong Il also launched the idea of the supremacy of the Korean nation, which had clear connotations of nationalism, a concept that Kim Il Sung had always abhorred as one that contained both imperialist and aggressive elements. Juch’e, on the other hand, was justified as a form of defense against foreign influence and aggression and could not, in his eyes, be equated with nationalism. Until 1985 nationalism was rejected as:
... an ideology justifying the interest of the bourgeois in the name of the people’s interests, that is obscuring class contradiction and impeding the working class’ struggle, and serving as a justification for foreign invasion and plunder.
With the implementation of perestroika in 1985, however, and the inherent criticism of the socialist system that followed over the years, North Korea was anxious to establish an identity which would dissociate it from the tottering political scene of the former Soviet Union. The solution was to redefine the concept of the nation, and accordingly numerous volumes on the subject of the nation’s essence and nationalism were published throughout 1985, topped by a publication called the ‘Theory on the Supremacy of our Nation in 1989. The new definition given by Kim Jong Il was as follows:
The basic essence constituting nationality is consanguinity, language, and common region. Among these, consanguinity and common language are the most important elements of nation.
At the basis of the redefinition lies the principle of maintaining the North Korean socialist system by emphasizing its independence from the socialist block, that of China as well as that of the Soviet Union, and that its road to socialism was now to follow a path of its own, namely that of “socialism of [page 58] our own style,” which leaned heavily on juch’e and self-reliance and would not include far-reaching economic reforms in the Chinese or Soviet style. The move away from economic issues, which featured in many publications in the first half of the eighties, signified that the regime was facing increased economic difficulties. The emphasis now lay on the mental and psychological satisfaction of the people, appealing to feelings of nationalism and unconditional loyalty to the leader, old or new, as a defense against the threatening world that lay beyond the frontiers, a threat that could seriously undermine the legitimacy of the regime at the dawn of a new decade.
At the dawn of the nineties, North Korea was still protected by its ideological walls, although it continued to flirt with foreign capital with the opening of a special economic zone in the faraway and isolated region of Rajin-Sobong. With Kim Jong Il now firmly in place, as the first father-to-son succession of the communist world is completed, it seems unlikely to change:
... Comrade Kim Jong Il consolidated the political and ideological situation of our country and, at the same time, directed greater energies to strengthening the People’s Army, the pillar of our revolution and the main force for completion of the juch’e revolution, and he led the party, the army, and the people to rise up under the banner of self-reliance, overcome the economic blockade of imperialists and repeated national disasters, and bring about a turn in socialist economic construction.
It is really a miracle that we have exalted the dignity and honor of Korea, the homeland of juch’e, defending socialism by ourselves.
Obviously the ideological emphasis continues to lie on self-reliance and an independent economy; extraordinary is the fact that the revolution has become a national cause. It has even become a property of the nation; it has become a ‘juch’e revolution’ and North Korea seems to be the only country in which socialism has survived. No longer is ‘socialism of our own style, the projected road. North Korea is now the defender of the socialist ideal.
In 1995. the world predicted an economic collapse within the next couple of years and South Korea started to build refugee camps to cope with the expected flow of economic refugees, but despite the death of Kim Il Sung at a most inopportune time when he was negotiating with the United States and South Korea for a peace treaty and possible economic relations and a three- year wait for his successor to be announced amidst speculation that Kim Jong Il lacked sufficient army support, and despite reports of a famine that could be killing thousands of people and a worsening economic crisis, the government still stands; political continuity seems assured, and North Korea continues to defy international opinion on all fronts.
BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahn, Yinhay. 1993. Elite and policy making in North Korea: a policy tendency anal-ysis. The Korean Journal for National Unification Volume 2.
Clough, R.N. 1987. Embattled Korea: The Rivalry for International Support. Westview Press.
Jun, Sang-in. 1993. A maker of history vs. a victim of history: a comparative histori-cal study of economic reforms and developments in Vietnam and North Korea. The Korean Journal of National Unification, Volume 2.
Koh, David. 1982. The political economy of the DPRK in the post-1958 period. Journal of Contemporary Asia, 12-3.
Kim Jong Il. 1994. Socialism is a Science. Pyongyang.
Korean Central News Agency, Pyongyang.
Lee, Chong-sik. 1994. Prospects for North Korea. Unpublished, presented at Direction and Durability of the Four Remaining Socialist Countries: China, Vietnam, Cuba, and North Korea. Korean Association of International Studies and Research Institute for National Unification, Seoul.
North Korea Quarterly 191. 1989.
Oh, Kong-dan. 1988. Leadership change in North Korean politics; The succession to Kim Il Sung. Rand Publication Series, October.
Oh, Seung-yul. 1993. Economic reform in North Korea. Is China’s reform model relevant to North Korea? The Korean Journal of National Reunification 2.
Suh, Jae-jean. 1992. Theatrical Revision of Juche Thought and Nationalism in North Korea. The Korean Journal of National Unification 1.
Vantage Point. Seoul: Naewoo Press.
[page 60] Long Term Economic Goals over the Eighties
10 Long Term Economic Goals
Second Seven-Year Plan(1978-1984)
100 billion kwh
56-60 billion kwh
100 billion kwh
120 million tons
70-80 million tons
120 million tons
15 million tons
10 million tons
15 million tons
7 million tons
7 million tons
5 million tons
7.2 million tons
5 million tons
2.5 increase (no figu-
20 million tons
12-13 million tons
22 million tons
5 million tons
3.5 million tons
12 million tons
1.5 billion meters
1.5 billion meters
1.5 million tons
1 million tons
1.7 million tons
RR Freight Transportation
Technicians and Specialists
Source: North Korea Quarterly 48, Spring 1987, pp. 42-49
ANNUAL REPORT of the ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY - KOREA BRANCH 1997 The Korea Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society was established in 1900 by a group of foreign residents in Korea, who sought to encourage investigation of all aspects of Korean life, culture, customs, geography, and literature in order to deepen their understanding of the country and its people and to make them better known to the rest of the world The original nucleus was soon joined by many others, including a number of Korean scholars. Some of the members had great scholarly gifts, and their names will forever be associated with Korean studies, while many others contributed the first, and often the only, papers on many aspects of Korea, which left a legacy in the Transactions that is still a primary source of information on Korea in many fields. It is only appropriate that at this Annual Meeting we remember the great contribution of our forbears, and remember that the primary objective of the Branch is still the encouragement of studies on Korea.
The Korea Branch is organized with a Council of twenty-six members, including the officers. To carry out its functions the Council is organized into five committees: Membership, Program, Publications, Tours, and Finance.
Membership: At present the RAS-Korea Branch has a total of 1,378 members. This includes sixty-seven life members, 355 overseas members and 953 regular members residing in Korea.
Programs: Programs involving lectures, slide presentations and performances were held regularly on the second and fourth Wednesdays of each month except during the summer, at the Daewoo Foundation Building near Seoul Station. We are most grateful to the Foundation for allowing us the use of this centrally located space.
The annual Garden Party, graciously hosted by Ambassador and Mrs. Stephen [page 62] Brown at the British Embassy Residence, was most successful, with an enjoyable program of Korean pansori, special book sales, and an opportunity for members to become better acquainted with each other.
Publications: The Publications Committee had another successful year supervising book sales, reviewing manuscripts, and editing for publication Volume 71 of the Transactions. A revised book list was prepared and distributed to all members and to various libraries and institutions interested in Korean studies.
Tours: A full schedule of tours through the year took members throughout the country. A total of about 2,080 members and non-members participated in these tours which remain one of the most popular activities of the Society.
Finance: I am pleased to report that the finances of the RAS-Korea Branch remained on an even keel during 1997. Although operating expenses are modest, the Society depends totally upon the support you provide as members in paying annual dues, participating in tours, and purchasing publications. Remember, your support continues to be critical to the financial well-being of the Society.
I want to take this opportunity to express my thanks for the selfless efforts of the Council members and officers and Mrs. Bae, who has been the mainstay of the R.A.S. office for the past twenty-eight years. I would especially like to thank members of the publications committee without which our Transactions and other publications would not be published.
Lastly, I would like to acknowledge once again the generosity of the Daewoo Foundation in making the auditorium available free of charge for our regular lecture meetings.
John Nowell, President
[page 63] 1997 R.A.S. Lectures
January 8 Korean Shaman Possession Dance and the Shaman Cosmology
Dr. Theresa Ki-Ja Kim
January 29 Nationalism and State-Building During the First Republic of Korea
Mr. William G. Bradshaw
February 12 Concert of Traditional Music
Michuhol Korean Music Orchestra
February 26 Searching for The Imperial Dragon Temple
Dr. Kim Young-duk
March 11 Korea Myths and Legends
Ms. Robin Rhee
March 25 The Korean Telecommunications Revolution
Dr. James F. Larson
April 9 Korea Old and New
Mr. Michael F. O’Brien
April 23 Concepts of Evil: East and West
Prof. C.F. Alford
May 13 Dramatic Social Change in Cholla-nam-do, Korea
Dr. Terry Stocker
May 28 Confucian Education During the Choson Dynasty
Prof. Chung Soon Woo
June 11 Traditional Korean Birth Dreams
Dr. Fred Jeremy Seligson J.D.
June 25 Conservation of Biodiversity in Korea:
Past, Present, and Future
Dr. Sooil Kim, Ph.D.
August 27 An Introduction to Tea
Brother Anthony of Taize (An Sonjae)
September 9 Impressions from North Korea
Mr. Jan Bosma
[page 64] September 23 Portrayal of North Korea in Hwang Sun-Won’s
The Descendants of Cain
Dr. Suh, Ji-Moon
October 8 Zen Dance (Son Mu Ga)
Ms. Sun Ock Lee
October 22 Poisoned Prosperity: Development and
Environment in South Korea
Ms. Phillippa Walsh and Lee Taehwa
November 12 The Korean Writing System: A Unique Invention
Prof. Young-Key Kim-Renaud
November 26 Korea Through the Years: Personal Stories
Dr. Robert F. Roth M.D.
December 10 The Great Tumulus of Whangnam
Dr. Kim, Young-Duk
[page 65] 1997 R.A.S. Tours
Date Destination Attendance
January 11 In-wang San Hike 16
January 25 Buddhism Tour II 29
January 26 Winter Break Tour 15
February 2 Chonju Tour 16
February 8-10 Lunar New Year Tour: Sorak-san 18
February 15 Traditional Music Tour 18
February 16 Sujong-sa, Tonggu-nung, Kumgok-nung 19
February 23 Yoju Tour 24
March 1 Independence Movement Day Tour 15
March 8 Kiln Tour 16
March 16 Kosu Cave and Chungju Lake 39
March 22 Bird Watching Tour 37
March 22 Wonju and Chiaksan 37
March 23 Walking Tour of Choson Seoul 67
March 29 Art Tour 39
March 30 Suwon Tour 28
April 6 Realm of The Lmmortals Tour 20
April 4-6 Camellia Tour: Namhae-do, Dolsan-do 27
April 8 Puyo and Konju 29
April 11-13 Chinhae Cherry Blossom Tour 41
April 12 Kyonggi-do Cherry Blossom Tour 35
April 19-20 Cholla-do: Muju & Maisan Tour 19
April 18-21 Honshu, Japan Tour 36
April 19 Onyang and Hyonchungsa Tour 20
April 20 Cheju-do Tour 20
April 26 Kangwha Island Tour 20
April 27 Shaman Ritual (Baeyunshin Kut) 30
May 3-4 Kyongju Tour 45
May 4 Chongmyo Ceremony Tour 42
May 10-11 Ch’ollipo Arboretum 36
May 11 Flower Tour 20
May 14 Buddha’s Birthday Tour 130
May 17 Sudok-sa Tour 15
May 17-18 Andong Tour 17
May 17-18 Andong Tour 17
May 25 Paekche Kingdom Tour: Puyo and Kongju 25
May 30-June 1 Hong-do and Huksan-do 25
June 6-8 Chiri-san, Chungmu, and Koje-do 34
June 14-15 Odaesan and Kangnung Tour 12
[page 66] June 21 R.A.S. Garden Party 300
June 27-9 Wan-do, Pokil-do,and Chin-do 20
July 5-6 Pyonsanban-do, Tamyang, Pagoda Valley 25
July 7 Traditional Music and Dance 35
July 9 Ancient Egypt Tour 36
July 12 Island Hopping Tour 28
July 13 Songnisan and Popchusa Tour 29
July 20 Odaesan Tour 24
July 26 Exotic Shrine Tour 17
July 27 Soyang-ho and Paro-ho Tour 27
August 9 Inwangsan Hike 6
August 9 Market Tour 16
August 10 Insadong Walking Tour 10
August 15 Liberation Day Tour 19
August 16 Paekche Kingdom Tour: Puyo and Kongju 25
August 17 Tanyang Tour 21
August 23 Ho-am Museum and Hee-won Garden Tour 16
August 24 Yoju Tour 11
August 31 Mallipo and Ch’ollipo Tour 30
September 6 Silk Tour 26
September 7 Ch’ongp’yong Boat Tour 36
September 12-18 Ullung-do Tour 14
September 13-15 Chusok Holiday Sorak-san Tour 27
September 20-21 Kyongju Tour 22
September 27 Royal Marriage of Choson Tour 19
October 2-6 Mainland China Tour 39
October 4-5 Pusok-sa, Andong, and Hahoe Tour 43
October 11-12 South Cholla; Land of Exile Tour 15
October 18-19 Cholla-do Tour: Pyonsanban-do and Tamyang 20
October 25-26 Chiri-san Tour 33
October 25 Sudok-sa and Toksan Tour 20
November 1-2 Tongdo-sa and Haein-sa Tour 18
November 1-2 Cheju-do Tour 18
November 8-9 Maisan and Muju Tour 15
November 9 Walking Tour of Choson Seoul 55
November 15 Hanyak Tour 25
November 16 North Han River Valley Tour 16
November 23 Naejangsan and Paekyang-sa Tour 25
November 29 Ch’orwon Tour 15
December 6 Shopping Spree Tour 18
December 13 Churches Around Seoul Tour 18
December 13 Traditional Artists’ Studio Tour 25
[page 67] Members (as of December 30, 1997)
LIFE MEMBERS Peterson, Dr. Mark
Quizon, Mr. Ronald P.
Adams, Mr. Edward B.
Rasmussen, Mr. Glen C.
Adams, Dr. Carol Chou
Rutt, Mr. Richard
Adams, Dr. Daniel J.
Schaak, Mr. Klaus
Bae, Dr. Kyoung-yul
Sleph, Mr. Gerald
Bertoccioli, Mr. Guilano
Smith, Mr. Warren W., Jr.
Bridges, Mr. Ronald C.
Snyder, Ms. Alice L.
Bunger, Mr. Karl
Steinberg, Dr. David I.
Choung, Ms. Jinja
Strauss, Mr. William
Cook, Dr. and Mrs. Harold F.
Suh, Dr. Ji-moon
Crane, Dr. Paul S.
Tiezen, Ms. Helen R.
Curll, Mr. Daniel B.
Tumacder, Mr. Modesto
Davidson, Mr. Duane C.
Underwood, Dr. and Mrs. Horace G.
De Vries, Ms. Helena
Underwood, Dr. Horace H.
Dodds, Mr. and Mrs. Jack A.
Underwood, Mr. Peter A.
Goodwin, Mr. James J.
Williams, Mr. Von C.
Goodwin, Mr. Douglas H.
Wholer, Mr. Jurgen
Han, Dr. Sung-joo
Yi, Dr. Songmi
Hogarth, Mr. Robert
Yoon, Dr. and Mrs. Chong-niok
Hogarth, Dr. Hyun-key Kim
Hoyt, Dr. ana Mrs. James OVERSEAS MEMBERS
Irwin, Rev. and Mrs. M. MacDonald
Jenkins, Mr. Charles M. Adams, Mr. And Mrs. Martin
Kim, Dr. Dal-choong Aebi, Mrs. Doris
Kim, Dr. Young-duk Anderasen, Mr. Bryon C.
Leavitt, Mr. Richard P. Asbury Theo Seminary
Ledyard, Dr. Gari B.L. Fisher Library
Lee, Mrs. Elizabeth Baker, Prof. Donald
Lim, Ms. Sandra A. Barinka, Mr. Jaroslav
Long, Mr. George W. Bark, Mr. Theo J.
MacDongall, Mr. Alan M. Bark, Mr. Theo J.
Matthews, Mr. and Mrs. George E. Bartz, Dr. Carl F.
Mattielli, Ms. Sandra Beck, Mr. Earnest J.
Miller, Mr. C. Ferris Belding, Ms. Linda
Moffett, Dr. and Mrs. Samuel H. Black, Mr. and Mrs. Andrew D.
Nowell, Mr. and Mrs. John Blackwell, Mr. & Mrs. John
Overmore, Mr. William J. Blomkvist, Mrs. Margareta
Palmer, Dr. and Mrs. Spencer J. Blondheim, Mrs. Carrie C.
[page 68] Bosma, Mr. and Mrs. Jan Frary, Rev. Joseph P.
Bradford, Mr. Edward L. Freshley, Ms. Mary Jo
Brown, Dr. and Mrs. Donald N. Freund, Ms. Katherine
Bundy, Prof. David Gault, Dr. Neal L.
Buzo, Mr. & Mrs. Adrian F. Ging Ms. Rosalie
Byington, Mr. Mark E. Godfrey, Mrs. Cecily S.
Cambridge University Library Goodall, Mr. and Mrs. Michael J.
Canard, Mr. J.P. Grauer, Ms. Rhoda
Carkeek, Ms. Mija Grayson, Dr. & Mrs. James H.
Carriere, Mr. Frederick Greening, Mr. & Mrs. Alvin R.
Center for Korean Studies Griffiths, Mr. Nigel
Chang-lee, Ms. Brigitte H. Grosjean, Mr. Glen M.
Choe, Ms. Amy Heewon Hall, Dr. Newman A.
Clark, Dr. & Mrs. Donald Halvorson, Mr. Curtis H.
Clark, Mr. Fred G. Hamilton, Prof. John
Cleveland Museum of Art Library Harbert, Mr. Henry
Cogan, Mr. Thomas J. Harms, Mr. William
Coleman, Dr. craig Shearer Harvard Yenching Library
Cotton, Prof. James Hawley, Rev. & Mrs. Morley M.
Courtney, Mr. & Mrs. James R. Hazard, Dr. Benjamin H.
Dalton, Ms. Deborah S. Higgins, Mr. & Mrs. Chris B.
De Peaux, Prof. Richard Hlawatsch, Dr. George O.
Defraeye, Prof. Mark Hoare, Dr. & Mrs. James E,
Dege, Dr. & Mrs. Eckart Hobbs, Mr & Mrs. Michael D.
De Guchteneere, Mr. & Mrs. Dernard Holzmann, Dr. Richard T.
Dekens, Mrs. Elaine H. Hostetler, Mr. James C.
Devries, Mrs. Helena House, Ms. Susan P.
Diltz, Mr. & Mrs. Donald O. Hughes, Mr. & Mrs. Greg
Dormann, Mr. and Mrs. Dieter Human, Mrs. Rachel R.
Douglas, Dr. & Mrs. William A. Huster, Mr. & Mrs. F. Thomas
Driscoll, Mr. & Mrs. David J. Institut fur Japanologie
Duke University Irving, Dr. Harry
Durham Univeristy Library Italian School of East Asian Studies
D’urso, Ms. Vincenza Jakobsen, Ms. Karen
Dwyer, Mr. John T. Jerome, Mr. and Mrs. Donald J.
Eberstadt, Mr Nicholas N. Johnson, Prof. Thomas W.
Eikemeier, Dr. & Mrs. Dieter Jones, Rev. & Mrs. Don C.