Korea, Are You at Peace?

PROLOGUE What I really wanted to do after retiring from the Medical University was to travel and have someone else pay for it. When a call came that summer from the University of Maryland, University College (UMUC) Overseas Division to offer me a teaching job in Asia that fall, I made hasty arrangements—house, mail, bills—and left Charleston, South Carolina for Korea, a part of the globe I had never seen before. Twice, UMUC had offered me a teaching position overseas, but other commitments had gotten in the way. I knew if I said "No" this time, there would be no fourth offer. For two years I taught on American military bases and lived among Korean people—on the economy as it’s called… In Korea I became increasingly aware of deep differences between Eastern and Western cultures. I came to realize the prime importance of respect—even more than trust—in interpersonal relations in Korea. I also experienced the problematic nature of an American military presence in another sovereign nation. In part, Korea, Are You at Peace? records this unfolding awareness. This book also narrates my efforts to understand the tragic history of the Korean peninsula during the twentieth century. Late nineteenth century Korea was the last Asian country to be penetrated by the West. Soon thereafter, the horrors of the twentieth century overwhelmed the country: Japanese occupation, two world wars, and a national schism, with Korea a pawn in the power struggle between East and West. As a foil for this historical approach, I compare my observations and insights with those of a Victorian travel writer named Isabella Bird Bishop, who explored Korea—then often termed the Hermit Kingdom—a century before my visit. . . Isabella Bird Bishop was already a world traveler and respected travel writer, known to most as Isabella Bird, when she undertook a lengthy sojourn to Korea and nearby regions of China, Russia and Japan (1894 – ’96). At that time, more than a century before my visit, Korea was referred to as the Hermit Kingdom of Asia for its resistance to interaction with the West. Bishop was there when Korea was wrenched from its isolated, traditional culture and cast into the world at large through trial by fire. Our two journeys frame Korea’s long, dark century of devastation and chaos. During the twentieth century, the Korean peninsula suffered invasion by neighbors, a long, brutal Japanese occupation, and two devastating wars—World War II and the Korean War. Indeed, the itinerary and timing of the last part of Mrs. Bishop's journey was determined largely by political events, particularly the war between Japan and China of 1894 – ’95. Ironically, that brief war was fought to determine which of those two nations had the right to protect Korea's independence, which effectively meant the right to exercise suzerainty over the country. Japan won the war, took political control of Korea, and ruled it as a Japanese colony for half a century. After World War II, the country was split—by an agreement between the U.S. and the USSR—into North Korea and South Korea. Shortly after the great powers withdrew in 1948, the Korean War convulsed the peninsula for another three years. That somber past continues in the part of the peninsula north of the 38th parallel, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK, North Korea), whose citizens remain locked in a totalitarian cultural nightmare. The Republic of Korea (South Korea) by contrast, has finally achieved a degree of peace, crowned by a new and vibrant economy. It is considered one of Asia's four “Little Tigers,” small, economically successful countries of East Asia: Hong Kong, South Korea, Singapore and Taiwan. Despite a century of war and turmoil, Koreans retain their traditional greeting, Annyong haseyeo, or ‘Are you at peace?’ This greeting reflects the Buddhist heritage of Korea, in which peace and harmony are expected to accompany wisdom and right behavior. Peace is a primary cultural value for Koreans—both as personal, internal peace through their Buddhist heritage and as public peace in the Confucian tradition. But peace is something that has eluded the Korean peninsula in recent history, and it is still tenuous. American military troops and materiel in the South still face off against the threat of invasion—even nuclear attack—from the North. My job with UMUC was to teach biology on American military installations throughout South Korea. The people with whom I interacted in classes were mostly U.S. soldiers, although military contractors and Korean nationals with military connections sometimes enrolled. Outside the classroom, I spent some time with Koreans and with UMUC faculty. But mostly, I was on my own, wandering through towns and traveling around the countryside whenever possible, getting to know the country and its people. Like Bishop, I was able to see Korea in a way experienced by few Westerners. My main motive for sharing these impressions of Korea is to offer insight into a country that comparatively few Westerners have visited, that has had few literary champions, and that rarely makes the news unless North Korea rattles its missiles. Several chapters highlight the inevitable dissonances that occur when Koreans and American military personnel interact. Events and impressions are reported as I recorded and remembered them, but names of all those I met in Korea have been changed, both Americans and Koreans. Most Americans who have actually spent time on the Korean peninsula, especially G.I.s of the Korean War, are reluctant to talk about their experiences. It was worth the effort to penetrate this small jewel of a country that could be considered the Switzerland of Asia. Charming, mountainous, and inhabited by honest, industrious, and fiercely independent people, South Korea and its energetic population do not deserve the intellectual neglect of Western culture.