The fateful line, the DMZ.

Barbed wire…an endless string of cold, dark and flesh-tearing steel as far as one could see. It weaves its terrible strands from the outskirts of Seoul along the Han River for thirty or so miles until it reaches that gaping space between two nations. Two nations staring each other down in a bitter hate, a hate between two brooding brothers, North and South. This is the DMZ.

I have always found the story of the Korean War a great tragedy. It is known as “The Forgotten War” in the annals of American history. Sandwiched between the heroics of WWII and the Vietnam War. Not many know the story of that war that raged between 1950-1953. It was a brutal and violent contest that did little to resolve anything. The border remains much like it did before war broke out. It was a costly conflict that stirred the pot of hatred even more. The war was never officially ended, only halted by ceasefire. So the frontline remains a four-mile wide gash between the two Koreas. It is an entanglement of barbed wires, landmines, bunkers and millions of soldiers. The DMZ is the most heavily fortified border in the world; soldiers on both sides are poised for all out war at any given moment.

On the ride up north in our tour van this surreal feeling overcame me. It was an out of this world feeling as I looked to my left at the great Han River. Barbed wire and pillboxes were flanking its sides. Not one foot of the bank was left uncovered by the wire and watchful eye of sentries and CCTV. The threat of North Korean infiltration through the Han River is taken seriously. Many DPRK agents and spies have killed and/or captured along this vast river. The Han River eventually makes its way through North Korea, an ample outlet for spies and defectors to use. It is no wonder that such care is taken in protecting its shores. In fact the Han River splits Seoul in half as it makes its way south, making it a vital waterway of utmost importance.

We eventually reached Imingak. A tourist spot equipped with a theme park, memorials and war relics. On its northern edge is the Bridge of Freedom, a railroad bridge that heads north into the DMZ, it is flanked by pillboxes and barbed wire. The fence line around the bridge is plastered with colored ribbons. Written on the ribbons are the hopes and prayers of thousands of Koreans for a unified Korea. One couldn’t help but feel the emotion of the place. There is an honest hope among most Koreans that they will be united once again with the North to form one Korea.

Next was the Third Infiltration Tunnel. It is one of several dug under the DMZ. The tunnels were built by the North Koreans using forced labor in the form of South Korean POWs from the Korean War. The tunnels were built for the sole purpose of invading the South in a surprise underground attack aimed at Seoul. The descent into the tunnel was an arduous and steep 200 meters or so down. At the bottom was the infiltration tunnel. The tunnel itself was long, dark, damp and cramped. I had that eerie sensation, imagining the POWs laboring away in terrible conditions under the watchful eyes of the North Koreans. A subtle fear crept in just imagining the North Koreans walking down this tunnel. Several hundred meters in there are three concrete barriers erected by the South after the tunnel was discovered. In each barrier there is a hole about one square foot in size. I just imagined unfriendly eyes peering through at mine at the other side of those barriers in the dark and unlit side. At this point you are hundreds of feet down and just over a football field away from the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

The Dorasan Observatory gave us a chance to look at the frontier of North Korea. Sitting atop a hill sits the observatory, camouflaged and bustling with military personnel. Perched on this hill is the concrete observatory where visitors can peer through binoculars at the last Stalinist country in the world. My heart raced when I first looked through the viewfinder. I saw the strings of barbed wire and the North Korean lookout posts, yet no DPRK soldiers in sight. There was a heavy fog in the valley so little could be seen without the zoom of the binoculars. My heart twisted as I caught glimpse of the giant flagpole in Kijongdong. Kijongdong is the Propoganda Village just inside North Korea’s half of the DMZ. The village is rumored to be empty, just a shell of empty apartment buildings meant to tempt South Koreans into defecting toward the utopia of North Korea. The fabled utopia is no longer a desire for South Koreans, history has given the upper hand to the R.O.K. and it’s people, while suffering and starvation happen in the North. Yet the propaganda remains. The flagpole I gawked at stands at 525 ft high while the flag itself weighs an astounding 600 pounds. This gargantuan monument is the second tallest in the world, following a flag in Azerbaijan of all places. I had a few short glimpses at the flag before the coin-operated binoculars went dark. Those seconds are burned into my brain.

The Dorasan Train Station followed. The station was once a stop on the rail line that formerly connected North and South before the war. It has since been rebuilt and redesigned. It stands as a powerful symbol for unification. Trains don’t pass through its hollow confines; there is no one to fill its corridors and waiting areas other than tourists. It was a melancholy visit to the beacon for unification. Inside it looks like a fully functioning modern train station. A blue sign inside shows the next stop on the line as Pyongyang. The tracks lead North, but they lay silent. The money that went into building such a station shows the determination of the South to be reunited with the North, even if only commercially. It was somber and uplifting to see this kind of infrastructure being built in the event of unification. Yet the hope seemed forlorn, a country up North to far gone into the shackles to come easily to the arms of its brother in the South. The DMZ remains a sign of this hope, as forlorn or realistic as it may seem. We must remember the future is always unclear…

Cheonan and the Independence Hall

I had the opportunity to spend a weekend in Cheonan a couple weekends back with my good friend Trevan Hauck from my college days. He is a teacher up in Cheonan and it was my first big trip out of my region and into the northern part of South Korea. It was a weekend full of catching up, meeting new people, Noribang (karaoke), and the Independence Hall of Korea.

Just outside of Cheonan tucked in the lush green of Korea lies a massive monument. It’s chilling and overpowering at first site. I equated it with the Jedi Temple from Star Wars when I first saw it. The Independence Hall is in fact a large collection of buildings and museums. At it’s center lies a gargantuan monument. The Great Hall of the Nation. It’s a modern building with traditional Matbaejibung tile roofing. The building itself is 126 meters long, 68 meters wide and 45 meters tall, or about 15 stories high. It is the largest tile-roofed building in all of Asia. Its size is imposingly powerful, beautiful and ugly at the same time. Inside the pillared hall is a statue, the Statue of Indomitable Koreans. It’s a very Western style statue, almost Roman or even Russian in style, a symbol of the movement for freedom in Korea.

After passing through the Great Hall you arrive at the complex of museums. There are seven in all, each cataloguing the history of Korea from 5,000 years ago to 1950. The focus of each museum especially focuses on this idea of Korean autonomy and the movement for freedom and independence.

The first building showcases Korean history from 5,000 years ago to the beginning of the modern era. Vases, models, artifacts and weaponry dot this building. The building is called The Origin of the Korean People. It is a lot of information crammed into one building. One unique item was Admiral Yi Sun-Sin's sword. It’s a massive and almost samurai like sword. It would be like seeing William Wallace’s sword. Yi Sun-Sin was the admiral who defeated the Japanese in a naval battle in the 1500’s, his image now graces some of Korea’s currency.

The next five buildings are all in regards to Korea’s relationship with Japan. It’s a rocky relationship dating back hundreds of years. The real debacle began in the 1860’s and in 1905 Japan took total control over the Korean peninsula. Decades of brutal occupation and imperial rule followed until 1945. The struggle for independence climaxed in the failed revolutionary movement on March 1^st, 1919. The March 1^st Movement or Samil (3-1) movement signaled the beginning of a massive protest against the Japanese regime. Over two million Koreans took part in the movement that comprised of over one thousand different protests. A declaration of independence was created but the movement eventually ended in failure. The iron fist of Japan tightened even more.

Japanese rule ended at the close of WWII. It is around here where the museum ends it’s telling of the story of Korea. What follows is the tragic division between North and South. It’s an incident that could have been avoided had America taken a tougher stance against Stalin and had not drawn that fateful line across Korea. Korea, a people and a nation had for thousands of years been one people, even in the face of Japanese occupiers. Now they are bitter enemies, North and South, the result of a hasty line in the sand.

(The last building is The Experience Hall of the Independence Movement and is more geared towards children)

I picked up on several different things during my visit to the museums. One is the extreme nationalism, bordering on over the top but at the same time very admirable. Something that isn’t seen anymore in Western societies, a love of one’s people that runs deep. Another thing was the blatant portrayal of the Japanese as the harbingers of Korea’s destruction. It is a true and tragic story, one that Japan still struggles with today. Indeed there is a deep-seeded hatred among many Koreans against the Japanese that I see off and on. Some love Japan, some hate without forgiveness. Events over sixty years ago still linger in the minds of Koreans, many of them children. The displays in the museums depict glorious scenes of the Korean people marching forward towards independence. There are also scenes of rape, torture, massacres, and violence that fuel this hatred. Children come on field trips to view these scenes without the understanding and maturity necessary to grasp what they are seeing. For adults it means something different. We can gain lessons from the dark days bygone. The challenge is how do we teach these lessons to our children. Do we do it with a visual onslaught? However, who am I to say what they can do or should do? It’s a slippery slope. Most important it’s a different culture that should be respected and this is a story that defines them. We all want to be respected for our cultural background and our country’s history.

If we can steer away from things that fuel the fires of anger and hatred than it’s all the more better. History is a slippery slope…

http://www.i815.or.kr/html/en/ -The official website for the Independence Hall