뉴스레터

People tend to always think that the period of their own lifetime is the most tumultuous period in history. True, history has been an almost continuous series of turmoil. But it is not true to say that the 'present day' is necessarily more upheaval than any other period in the past. If we feel that our own times are special, that's simply because more recent memories are more vivid. Nevertheless, the contemporary Korean history feels especially tumultuous for a reason. The ruin of the country under Japanese colonialism, the free will that erupted uncontrollably upon liberation, thirst for revenge, the people's expectation for early independence and unification, followed by the Korean War, the 1960 April Revolution, the dark military government, and painful struggles for democracy sum up the experiences of contemporary Korean history over the past hundred years that were more intense than those over a few centuries before that.

The first national sentiment born of these experiences was anger. Although almost every nation in history has also suffered hardship and humiliation at one time or another, the Korean people have an especially painful history, riddled with countless foreign invasions. It has left us Koreans with feelings of pathos, humiliation and remorse. We were angry and couldn't understand why Korea boasting of a history and a culture had to fall under the hands of "Wa (倭: Dwarf Country, Japan)."

History Should Teach Us How to Live Together

It is obviously the sorrow of losing the country to Japan through forced annexation that explains why resentment and indignation became the defining characteristics of Korean history. The Korean historians of the time expressed their anger and frustration as they described the worst tragedy in the history of their nation. The examples include: "Today, I Deplore and Mourn This Day(시일야방성대곡, 是日也放聲大哭)" by Jang Ji-yeon; 'The Tragic History of Korea' or 'The Bloody History of the Korean Independence Movement' by Park Eun-sik; 'The Declaration of the Righteous Bravery Organization' by Shin Chae-ho, and biographical literatures dedicated to patriotism. Grief-stricken, they highlighted the sorrow, ambition, and spirit of their people.

This gave rise to three trends in the history of Korea under Japanese colonial rule. The first was to place emphasis on the brutality of Japan, which encouraged us to blame Japan for the fall of the country rather than reflect on ourselves to see if there were anything that was our fault. The second was to incite hatred for Japan. In this view of extreme nationalistic history, losing to Japan, even in a soccer match, was unacceptable. But history should be about teaching how to live together, not about practicing hostility. The third was to require chauvinism.
Followers of historicism praised martyrdom and heroic deaths. Those who represent such history of resentment are the descendants of loyalist Jeong Mong-ju in the 14th Century, followed by the Six Ministers Executed in 1456, the Three Scholars fought against invasion of Ching Dynasty, and Lee Jun died in the Haag in 1907. Their common interest was in remaining loyal to their country. Deaths such as theirs were celebrated as the made-up tale of "a boy who died saving Holland" or the blow-up story of Socrates taking poison, saying, "a bad law is still a law," appeared in textbooks.

We Need Reasonable Historical Perception Beyond Nationalism

The appeal to nationalism was actually a vital energy for the early stages of nation-state building. To overcome the challenge of a country lacking natural resources, national infrastructure, and technology, Korea needed its people to put up with poverty, work overtime, and buy domestic products. And appealing to patriotism was the only way to encourage such self-sacrifice. Patriotism allowed the Korean people to accept charismatic leaders, and unite around the leadership to create a national homogeneity. Syngman Rhee and Park Chung-hee were leaders born of such a historical circumstance. Such a historical atmosphere generally lasted no longer than fifty years.

At this point of time, approaching the 70th year since liberation from Japanese rule, let us examine our situation once again. There is no denying that there was a time in our history when nationalism filled with resentment was considered a virtue. It was a time when everyone agreed with Nikolai Nekrasov (1821-1878), a young, struggling Russian man during the Revolution period, when he cried, "A man without sorrow or anger cannot love his country." It was a time of painful deprivation that we couldn't have endured without such anger and determination. But now that we have grown into one of top ten countries in the civilized world, we need to step aside as we look back on our past, and try to figure out what to do now. We don't need to remain in the sorrow of losing the country. Nor do we have a nightmare of surprise attacks from powers.

These days, I often remind myself of the advice of Amane Nishi (西周, 1829-1897), a Japanese intellectual during the late shogunate period. Upon return from his studies in Holland, he argued, watching his country in a tumultuous transition from the shogunate to Meiji periods, that "intellectuals should serve as kinine (a fever reducer) for the people of the time." When we look around us, both in and out of the country, there are so many things to be angry about. But that's how history has always been. We can't always be angry, nor can we be always indifferent. Whenever confronted with this dilemma, I comfort myself with what Alfred Marshall (1842-1924) said in his inaugural lecture as professor of economics at the University of Cambridge in 1885: "It will be my most cherished ambition . . . to increase the numbers of those, whom Cambridge . . . sends out into the world with cool heads and warm hearts."