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For The Record  

FTR#‘s 1368, 1369 & 1370: Korea on Our Minds, Parts 1, 2 & 3

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FTR#1368 This pro­gram was record­ed in one, 60-minute seg­ment.

FTR#1369 This pro­gram was record­ed in one, 60-minute seg­ment.

FTR#1370 This pro­gram was record­ed in one, 60-minute seg­ment.

Intro­duc­tion: These pro­grams set forth devel­op­ments in Korea, past and present. FTR#1368 relies heav­i­ly on excerpts from FTR#1141, set­ting forth the his­to­ry of Japan’s cen­turies-long loot­ing of Korea, cul­mi­nat­ing in its bru­tal col­o­niza­tion. Fol­low­ing the end of World War II, the Japan­ese influ­ence in Korea remained dom­i­nant.

That influ­ence derives from the pre­em­i­nent posi­tion in Kore­an soci­ety of col­lab­o­ra­tors with Japan dur­ing its decades-long occu­pa­tion.

Those col­lab­o­ra­tors dom­i­nat­ed the mil­i­tary, police, polit­i­cal cul­ture and cor­po­rate life of South Korea.

A key per­son involved in cement­ing the Japan­ese dom­i­nance over post-World War II Korea is Nobusuke Kishi, whose rise to promi­nence took place dur­ing the Japan­ese occu­pa­tion of Manchuria.

The Japan­ese dom­i­nance of South Korea is a sig­nif­i­cant fac­tor in Pres­i­dent Yoon’s recent attempts at declar­ing mar­tial law, stag­ing provo­ca­tions to jus­ti­fy his actions and (appar­ent­ly) using false-flag attacks on U.S. mil­i­tary per­son­nel and instal­la­tions in an attempt at re-start­ing the Kore­an War.

Key Points of Analy­sis and Dis­cus­sion Include: The tac­tic of tar­ring all oppo­nents of the sit­ting regime as “communists”–a tac­tic that dates to the Japan­ese occu­pa­tion of Korea; even­tu­al Sec­re­tary of State Dean Rusk’s role in draw­ing the 38th Par­al­lel as the divid­ing line between the Kore­as; Rusk’s posi­tion as a key mem­ber of the Chi­na Lob­by; Gen­er­al Kim Suk-won’s role as a key Japan­ese offi­cer dur­ing World War II, as well as his posi­tion as the com­man­der of Syn­g­man Rhee’s bor­der forces; Japan­ese-occu­pied Manchuria as a dom­i­nant pro­ducer of opi­um and hero­in for the glob­al mar­ket and Chi­ang Kai-shek’s Kuom­intang.

1a. The pro­gram begins with review of the his­to­ry of Japan’s col­o­niza­tion of Korea. That colo­nial occu­pa­tion was anoth­er tar­get of the late Park Won-soon’s crit­i­cism.

Japan’s loot­ing of Korea took place over cen­turies. In Gold War­riors, the Sea­graves present the his­to­ry of Japan’s rape of Korea, begin­ning with their account of the gris­ly mur­der of Kore­an Queen Min in 1894. ” . . . . the defense­less queen was stabbed and slashed repeat­ed­ly, and car­ried wail­ing out to the palace gar­den where she was thrown onto a pile of fire­wood, drenched with kerosene, and set aflame. An amer­i­can mil­i­tary advi­sor, Gen­er­al William Dye, was one of sev­er­al for­eign­ers who heard and saw the killers milling around in the palace com­pound with dawn swords while the queen was burned alive. . . .”

A snap­shot of the Japan­ese colo­nial occu­pa­tion of Korea, a focal point of crit­i­cism of Park Won-soon:” . . . . [Gen­er­al] Ter­auchi was extra­or­di­nar­i­ly bru­tal, set­ting a prece­dent for Japan­ese behav­ior in all the coun­tries, it would occu­py over com­ing decades. Deter­mined to crush all resis­tance, he told Kore­ans, ‘I will whip you with scor­pi­ons!’ He set up a sadis­tic police force of Kore­an yakuza, order­ing it to use tor­ture as a mat­ter of course, for ‘no Ori­en­tal can be expect­ed to tell the truth except under tor­ture’. These police were close­ly super­vised by Japan’s gestapo, the kem­peitai. . . . ‘Japan’s aim,’ said Kore­an his­to­ri­an Yi Kibeck, ‘was to erad­i­cate con­scious­ness of Kore­an nation­al iden­ti­ty, roots and all, and thus to oblit­er­ate the very exis­tence of the Kore­an peo­ple from the face of the earth.’ . . . the penin­su­la was stripped of every­thing from art­works to root veg­eta­bles. As Korea now belonged to Japan, the trans­fer of cul­tur­al property—looting—was not theft. How can you steal some­thing that already belongs to you? . . .”

Key ele­ments of analy­sis of the Japan­ese polit­i­cal, eco­nom­ic and cul­tur­al dec­i­ma­tion of Korea: The loot­ing of Korea took place over cen­turies; the Black Ocean and Black Drag­on soci­eties (fore­run­ners of the Uni­fi­ca­tion Church and, pos­si­bly, the Shin­cheon­ji cult) played a key role in insti­gat­ing the incre­men­tal Japan­ese con­quest of Korea; the eco­nom­ic and cul­tur­al loot­ing of Korea had already ren­dered that coun­try one of the weak­est in Asia by the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry; (Korea had been one of the most advanced civ­i­liza­tions on earth, pri­or to Japan­ese con­quest); for cen­turies, Chi­na had func­tioned as a mil­i­tary pro­tec­tor of Korea; as not­ed above, there was whole­sale eco­nom­ic and cul­tur­al plun­der; mil­lions of Kore­ans were enslaved to work in Japan and, dur­ing World War II, in Gold­en Lily facil­i­ties, where they were worked to death or buried alive; many more Kore­ans were con­script­ed as sol­diers into Japan’s army; tor­ture was rou­tine in Japan’s occu­pa­tion of Korea, as was sum­ma­ry exe­cu­tion and impris­on­ment on trumped-up charges; Kore­ans were for­bid­den from speak­ing their own lan­guage; even Japan­ese school teach­ers wore uni­forms and car­ried swords; as high­light­ed in the pre­vi­ous pro­gram, many Kore­an women were forced to become slave pros­ti­tutes for the Japan­ese army–“Comfort Women.”

Gold War­riors by Ster­ling and Peg­gy Sea­grave; Ver­so [SC]; Copy­right 2003, 2005 by Ster­ling and Peg­gy Sea­grave; ISBN 1–84467-531–9; pp. 14–21.

. . . . Dur­ing the night of Octo­er 7. 1895, thir­ty Japan­ese assas­sins forced their way into Kore­a’s roy­al palace in Seoul. Burst­ing into the queen’s pri­vate quar­ters, they cut down two ladies-in-wait­ing and cor­nered Queen Min. When the Min­is­ter of the Roy­al House­hold tried to shield her, a swords­man slashed off both his hands. the defense­less queen was stabbed and slashed repeat­ed­ly, and car­ried wail­ing out to the palace gar­den where she was thrown onto a pile of fire­wood, drenched with kerosene, and set aflame. An amer­i­can mil­i­tary advi­sor, Gen­er­al William Dye, was one of sev­er­al for­eign­ers who heard and saw the killers milling around in the palace com­pound with dawn swords while the queen was burned alive. Japan declared that the mur­ders were com­mit­ted by “Kore­ans dressed as Japan­ese in Euro­pean clothes”–a gloss greet­ed with ridicule by the diplo­mat­ic com­mu­ni­ty. Accord­ing to the British min­is­ter in Tokyo, Sir Ernest Satow, First Sec­re­tary Sug­imu­ra of the Japan­ese lega­tion in Korea led the assas­sins.

The gris­ly mur­der of Queen Min was a turn­ing point in Japan’s effort to gain con­trol of Korea. Her hus­band King Kojong was a weak­ling, con­trolled by the queen’s fac­tion, who were allied with Chi­na against Japan. Once the queen was dead, the Japan­ese could eas­i­ly con­trol the king, and put n end to Chi­nese inter­fer­ence.

The coup was planned by Miu­ra Goro, agent of Japan’s aggres­sive Yam­a­ga­ta clique. At first, the killing was to be done by Japan­ese-trained Kore­an sol­diers, so it could be passed off as an inter­nal mat­ter. But to make sure noth­ing went wrong, Miu­ra called for help from the Japan­ese ter­ror­ist orga­ni­za­tion Black Ocean. Many of its mem­bers were in Korea pos­ing as busi­ness agents of Japan­ese com­pa­nies, includ­ing the old­est zaibat­su, Mit­sui. Black Ocean and anoth­er secret soci­ety called Black Drag­on func­tioned as Japan’s para­mil­i­taries on the Asian main­land, car­ry­ing out dirty work that could be denied by Tokyo. They were in posi­tion through­out Korea and Chi­na, run­ning broth­els, phar­ma­cies, pawn­shops, and build­ing net­works of influ­ence by sup­ply­ing local men with mon­ey, sex­u­al favors, alco­hol, drugs, pornog­ra­phy, and Span­ish Fly. While Black Ocean was obsessed with Korea, Black Drag­on (named for the Amur or Black Drag­on Riv­er sep­a­rat­ing Manchuria from Siberia) was ded­i­cat­ed to block­ing Russ­ian encroach­ment, and seiz­ing Chi­na for Japan. Black Ocean pro­vid­ed Miu­ra with the pro­fes­sion­al assas­sins he need­ed, and the rest of the killers were secu­ri­ty men from Japan’s con­sulate. Whether they intend­ed to kill the queen in full view of for­eign observers is anoth­er mat­ter. Japan­ese con­spir­a­cies often began qui­et­ly, then went out of con­trol.

Many Japan­ese lead­ers like states­man Ito Hirobu­mi were enlight­ened and rea­son­able men who would have vetoed the mur­der, had they known. But there was a deep con­tra­dic­tion inside Japan fol­low­ing the Mei­ji Restora­tion in the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry. Two cliques com­pet­ed ruth­less­ly for pow­er behind the throne, and for influ­ence over the Mei­ji Emper­or. Those asso­ci­at­ed with Ito were more cos­mopoli­tan, emu­lat­ing the role of Bis­mar­ck in guid­ing Kaiser Wil­helm, or Dis­raeli in guid­ing Queen Vic­to­ria. Those allied with Gen­er­al Yam­a­ga­ta were throw backs to medieval Japan, where pow­er worked in the shad­ows with assas­sins, sur­prise attacks, and treach­ery. While Yam­a­ga­ta built a mod­ern con­script army to replace Japan’s tra­di­tion­al samu­rai forces, he also built a net­work of spies, secret police, yakuza gang­sters and super­pa­tri­ots. These were key ele­ments of the police state Yam­a­ga­ta was cre­at­ing in Japan. Under­world god­fa­thers were vital com­po­nent of Japan’s rul­ing struc­ture. Mem­bers of the impe­r­i­al fam­i­ly, and the finan­cial elite that con­trols Japan, had inti­mate ties to top gang­sters. When Yamagata’s armies invad­ed Korea and Manchuria, gang­sters were the cut­ting edge. There­after, Japan’s under­world played a major role in loot­ing Asia over fifty years, 1895–1945.

Queen Min’s mur­der marks the begin­ning of this half-cen­tu­ry of extreme Japan­ese bru­tal­i­ty and indus­tri­al scale plun­der. Her killing shows how eas­i­ly the mask of Japan’s good inten­tions could slip, to reveal hideous real­i­ty.

Oth­er Japan­ese strate­gies also began qui­et­ly, then got out of hand. For exam­ple, it is unlike­ly that Japan intend­ed all along to have its army stage the Rape of Nanking in 1937, butcher­ing some 300,000 defense­less peo­ple in full view of for­eign observers with cam­eras. Had the Rape hap­pened only once, it might have been a grotesque acci­dent. But vari­a­tions of Nanking occurred many times dur­ing Japan’s light­ning con­quest of East and South­east Asia. By the time they over­ran Sin­ga­pore in 1942, the atroc­i­ties com­mit­ted against Over­seas Chi­nese civil­ians there—the Sook Ching mas­sacres—were hap­pen­ing all over South­east Asia, and not only to Chi­nese. That this occurred so often sug­gests there was more to Japan’s aggres­sion than a pure­ly mil­i­tary oper­a­tion. Why, after suc­cess­ful­ly con­quer­ing a neigh­bor­ing coun­try, did Japan tor­ment the Chi­nese and oth­ers who had mon­ey or prop­er­ty? The expla­na­tion lies in the shad­ows behind the army. Few his­to­ry books take into account the role of the under­world, because schol­ars rarely study out­laws. With Japan, we must always con­sid­er the under­world because it per­me­ates the pow­er struc­ture, as dark­ly sat­i­rized by the films of Ita­mi Juzo.

The con­quest of Korea was Japan’s first exper­i­ment in for­eign plun­der on an indus­tri­al scale, so there was plen­ty for the under­world to do. West­ern­ers know so lit­tle about Korea that it is sur­pris­ing how much there was to steal. Today, North and South Korea are only ves­tiges of a dis­tin­guished past. His­to­ri­an Bruce Cum­ings points out that “Kore­a’s influ­ence on Japan was far greater than Japan’s influ­ence on Korea”. In ancient times Japan was raid­ed by maraud­ers from the Kore­an penin­su­la, and raid­ed Korea in return, but these were bands of swords­men and archers, not armored reg­i­ments. Such raids caused  mutu­al loathing of Kore­ans and Japan­ese that has its par­al­lel in the Catholic and Protes­tant trou­bles of North­ern Ire­land. A quick thumb­nail his­to­ry explains this hatred, and show how Japan’s aggres­sion began.

When they first start­ed feud­ing two thou­sand years ago, there was no Korea or Japan, as we know them today. In dif­fer­ent parts of the Kore­an penin­su­la were city-states with high­ly devel­oped economies sup­port­ing mag­nif­i­cent reli­gious, lit­er­ary and artis­tic cul­tures. Their porce­lain is among the most prized in the world today, along with ele­gant paint­ings, sculp­ture, and gold fil­i­gree. The elite lived in palaces on great estates, with thou­sands of sales. Tak­ing no inter­est in com­merce or war­fare, they devel­oped astron­o­my, math­e­mat­ics, wood block print­ing, and invent­ed mov­able type long before any­one else. Until the six­teenth cen­tu­ry, Korea had one of the world’s most advanced civ­i­liza­tions.

Mean­while, in the seclud­ed islands of Japan, immi­grants from Chi­na and Korea were linked in a loose con­fed­er­a­tion ruled by Shin­to priests and priest­esses. For a thou­sand years, these rival domains feud­ed among them­selves, before final­ly sub­mit­ting to the cen­tral mil­i­tary dic­ta­tor­ship of the shoguns. Chron­ic con­spir­a­cy pro­duced what one his­to­ri­an calls Japan’s ‘para­noid style’ in for­eign rela­tions. If Japan­ese treat­ed each oth­er ruth­less­ly, why treat for­eign­ers oth­er­wise?

Kore­ans regard­ed Japan­ese as ‘uncouth dwarves. Chi­nese were more cul­ti­vat­ed, so Korea will­ing­ly accept­ed trib­u­tary role with Chi­na. In return, Chi­na pro­tect­ed Korea from Japan.

In the six­teenth cen­tu­ry, after Japan was uni­fied by Toy­oto­mi Hideyoshi, he launched an inva­sion of Korea with 158,000 men. His plan was to crush Korea and erase its cul­ture from the face of the earth. He near­ly suc­ceed­ed. After sev­er­al years of cru­el occu­pa­tion, Korea was res­cued by Admi­ral Yi Sun-shin’s famous Tur­tle Ship, the world’s first ironclad—65-feet long, fir­ing can­non balls filled with nails. Admi­ral Yi cut Japan’s sup­ply routes and destroyed its ships. Humil­i­at­ed, Hideyoshi died soon after­ward.

Despite this fail­ure, the invaders prof­it­ed rich­ly by loot­ing Korea. Their army includ­ed monks and schol­ars assigned to steal Korea’s finest man­u­scripts. Samu­rai kid­napped mas­ters of ceram­ics such as the great Ri Sam-pyong, and made them slaves in Japan. A Kore­an schol­ar said the Japan­ese were “wild ani­mals that only crave mate­r­i­al goods and are total­ly igno­rant of human moral­i­ty”. Cen­turies lat­er, when Japan invad­ed Korea again, its armies once more includ­ed teams of monks and schol­ars to find and loot the finest art­works.

Korea nev­er recov­ered. In the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, it was the weak­est, least com­mer­cial coun­try in East Asia, ripe for pick­ing. China’s Manchu gov­ern­ment, on the verge of col­lapse, was in no shape to defend Korea.

Fol­low­ing the Mei­ji Restora­tion, Japan made a con­vul­sive effort to mod­ern­ize, becom­ing the first Asian nation able to com­pete mil­i­tar­i­ly with the West. As her army and navy devel­oped, she was in a posi­tion to launch a cam­paign of mech­a­nized con­quest on the main­land, to acquire a colo­nial empire of her own. Her fist tar­get was Korea. Politi­cians and army offi­cers argued that if Japan did not grab Korea, Manchuria, and Tai­wan, they would be grabbed by Rus­sia, France or Eng­land. Gen­er­al Yam­a­ga­ta and Black Ocean boss Toya­ma Mit­su­ru need­ed an inci­dent that would give them an excuse to invade, while putting the blame on Korea. Yam­a­ga­ta told Toya­ma to “start a conflagration”—then it would be the army’s duty to go “extin­guish the fire”.

Start­ing a fire in Korea was easy. Black Ocean ter­ror­ists attacked a rur­al reli­gious sect called Tong­hak. The Tong­haks struck back, caus­ing some Japan­ese casu­al­ties. With this excuse, Tokyo rushed in troops to ‘pro­tect’ its cit­i­zens in Korea. When news came that Chi­na was send­ing 1,500 sol­diers aboard a char­tered British ship, the S.S. Kow­sh­ing, a Japan­ese squadron inter­cept­ed the ves­sel and sank her with all aboard. This sur­prise attack set a prece­dent, fol­lowed many times by Japan in lat­er decades.

China’s tot­ter­ing Manchu gov­ern­ment fool­ish­ly declared war on Japan. In Sep­tem­ber 1894, in the mouth of Korea’s Yalu Riv­er, the Japan­ese destroyed half of China’s navy in a sin­gle after­noon. Japan then cap­tured Manchuria’s ‘impreg­nable’ Port Arthur, and the for­ti­fied har­bor at Wei­hai­wei in Shan­tung province sink­ing all Chi­nese ships in the har­bor. Chi­na sued for peace. By the end of Feb­ru­ary 1895, Japan con­trolled the whole of Korea and also Manchuria’s strate­gic Liao­tung penin­su­la. Chi­na also gave Japan con­trol of Tai­wan, which became Tokyo’s first colony. When South Manchuria and Port Arthur also were turned over to Japan, France, Ger­many and Rus­sia pres­sured Tokyo to return them.

It was at this point that Queen Min refused to cave in to Japan­ese bul­ly­ing, and was mur­dered. The stage was now set for the unprece­dent­ed cru­el­ties of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. . . .

. . . . Now feel­ing invin­ci­ble, Japan for­mal­ly declared Korea a colony. Nobody asked Kore­ans what they thought. West­ern gov­ern­ments did not protest. Great num­bers of Japan­ese arrived in the penin­su­la to make their for­tunes. With them came legions of agents for the great zaibat­su con­glom­er­ates, seiz­ing every com­mer­cial oppor­tu­ni­ty, every nat­ur­al resource. Japan took con­trol of law and order, cre­at­ing new police and secret police net­works. No longer mak­ing any pre­tense of chival­ry, Japan­ese abused Kore­an sov­er­eign­ty at every turn, crush­ing all resis­tance. A news­pa­per edi­tor was arrest­ed when he wrote: “Ah, how wretched it is. Our twen­ty mil­lion coun­try­men have become the slaves of anoth­er coun­try!”

Not all Japan­ese were preda­tors. Some earnest­ly believed that they were in Korea to help, not to plun­der. Ito Hirobu­mi told Kore­an offi­cials, “Your coun­try does not have the pow­er to defend itself. . . I am not insist­ing that your coun­try com­mit sui­cide. . . I expect that if you thrust for­ward bold­ly, the day will come when you will advance to a posi­tion of equal­i­ty with us and we will coop­er­ate with one anoth­er.”

The appoint­ment of Ito as the first Japan­ese viceroy of Korea gave the coun­try some hope of ratio­nal gov­ern­ment. But Gen­er­al Yam­a­ga­ta saw to it that Ito’s staff includ­ed Black Drag­on boss Uchi­da Ryohei. Secret­ly financed from army funds, Uchida’s thugs went on a ram­page, mur­der­ing 18,000 Kore­ans dur­ing Ito’s time s viceroy. Dis­gust­ed by the bloody med­dling, Ito resigned in 1909 only to be shot dead by paid assas­sins. His mur­der was used as a pre­text to demand full annex­a­tion of Korea. On August 22, 1910, Korea ceased to be a mere colony and was ful­ly incor­po­rat­ed into Japan­ese ter­ri­to­ry. Japan’s army now had its own domain on the Asian main­land, free of inter­fer­ence from Tokyo politi­cians. One of Yamagata’s most rabid fol­low­ers, Gen­er­al Ter­auchi Masa­take, was appoint­ed first gov­er­nor-gen­er­al of Korea. Ter­auchi, who had lost his right hand dur­ing a great samu­rai rebel­lion in the 1870s, had been army min­is­ter dur­ing the Rus­so-Japan­ese War. He now super­vised the loot­ing and plun­der of Korea.

Although some Japan­ese Army offi­cers were chival­rous, showed mer­cy, or refused to indulge in wan­ton killing, Ter­auchi was extra­or­di­nar­i­ly bru­tal, set­ting a prece­dent for Japan­ese behav­ior in all the coun­tries, it would occu­py over com­ing decades. Deter­mined to crush all resis­tance, he told Kore­ans, “I will whip you with scor­pi­ons!” He set up a sadis­tic police force of Kore­an yakuza, order­ing it to use tor­ture as a mat­ter of course, for “no Ori­en­tal can be expect­ed to tell the truth except under tor­ture”. These police were close­ly super­vised by Japan’s gestapo, the kem­peitai.

Many kem­peitai agents wore civil­ian clothes, iden­ti­fied only by a chrysan­the­mum crest on the under­side of a lapel. Even­tu­al­ly Japan spawned a net­work of these spies, infor­mants, and ter­ror­ists through­out Asia. At the height of World War II, 35,000 offi­cial kem­peitai were deployed through­out the Japan­ese Empire. The unof­fi­cial num­ber was far greater, because of close inte­gra­tion with Black Drag­on, Black Ocean, and oth­er fanat­i­cal sects, work­ing togeth­er ‘like teeth and lips’. Black Ocean boss Uchi­da reviewed all appoint­ments of kem­peitai offi­cers sent to Korea.

Kore­an resis­tance was intense, but futile. In 1912, some 50,000 Kore­ans were arrest­ed; by 1918 the num­ber arrest­ed annu­al­ly rose to 140,000. Dur­ing Korea’s first ten years of Japan­ese rule even Japan­ese school­teach­ers wore uni­forms and car­ried swords. Japan’s army stood guard while kem­peitai and Black Ocean thugs pil­laged the penin­su­la. Japan­ese police con­trolled rice pro­duc­tion from pad­dy field to store­house, so the major­i­ty could be shipped to Japan Yakuza were expert at extor­tion. In Japan, they used intim­i­da­tion, extor­tion, kid­nap­ping and mur­der, restrained only by pru­dence in select­ing the vic­tims. On the main­land there was no need for such restraint. Because Terauchi’s style was so bru­tal, Japan­ese bankers and busi­ness­men made a pub­lic dis­play of show­ing con­tempt for mer­cy. Even­tu­al­ly, the Ter­auchi style spread across Asia, remain­ing in place till 1945.   

To be sure, Japan did mod­ern­ize Kore­an indus­try, to some extent, but at ter­ri­ble cost. Kore­an work­ers were paid one-fourth the wages of Japan­ese coun­ter­parts in the same fac­to­ries. Ter­auchi forced Kore­ans to eat mil­let, while their rice was sent to Japan.

In this mer­ci­less way, the penin­su­la was stripped of every­thing from art­works to root veg­eta­bles. As Korea now belonged to Japan, the trans­fer of cul­tur­al property—looting—was not theft. How can you steal some­thing that already belongs to you?

First on the wish-list was Korea’s famous celadon porce­lain, which many thought sur­passed China’s Tang porce­lain. Kore­an stoneware was dis­tinc­tive for its translu­cent blue-green glaze, with flo­ral designs incised in the clay and filled with col­or before glaz­ing. A West­ern expert called it “the most gra­cious and unaf­fect­ed pot­tery ever made”. Although Japan had kid­napped Korea’s celadon mas­ters in the six­teenth cen­tu­ry, and these experts had dis­cov­ered sources of fine clay in Kyushu, the porce­lain they made in Japan was not the same spir­i­tu­al­ly. Japan­ese val­ued Kore­an celadon above all oth­ers for rit­u­als and tea cer­e­mo­ny. Cov­et­ed also were exam­ples of Korea’s punch’ong stoneware, and Cho­son white porce­lain.

Some of this plun­der was put on dis­play at Tokyo’s Ueno Muse­um. Most end­ed up in pri­vate Japan­ese col­lec­tions where it was nev­er on pub­lic view, and rarely was seen even in pri­vate. Japan­ese col­lec­tors keep their trea­sures in vaults, tak­ing sin­gle pieces out for per­son­al view­ing. So, most of Korea’s stolen antiq­ui­ties remain lost from sight to this day.

When all Korea’s pri­vate col­lec­tions were con­fis­cat­ed, experts study­ing court records and ancient man­u­scripts deter­mined that the finest celadons still slept in the tombs of kings. To dis­guise the loot­ing of these tombs, Ter­auchi intro­duced laws for the ‘preser­va­tion of his­toric sites. By preser­va­tion, he meant that the tombs would be loot­ed and the valu­able con­tents pre­served in Japan. He then opened some two thou­sand tombs, includ­ing a roy­al tomb in Kaesong, which were emp­tied of their ancient celadons, Bud­dhist images, crowns, neck­laces, ear­rings, bronze mir­rors, and oth­er orna­men­tal trea­sures. Along the Tae­dong Riv­er near Pyongyang, some 1,400 tombs were opened and loot­ed.

This whole­sale theft was over­seen by Gen­er­al Ter­auchi, per­son­al­ly. One of his first acts was to destroy the 4,000-room Kyung­bok-goong Palace to make way for the con­struc­tion of a res­i­dence for him­self. To dec­o­rate his per­son­al quar­ters, he chose 600 art­works from thou­sands being pre­pared for ship­ment to Japan.

Japan­ese pri­vate col­lec­tors and antique deal­ers car­ried off not only art­works, but clas­sic lit­er­ary texts and impor­tant nation­al archives—all in the name of aca­d­e­m­ic research art Japan­ese muse­ums and uni­ver­si­ties. Tens of thou­sands of the finest books list­ed as Kore­an nation­al trea­sures, includ­ing all 1,800 vol­umes of the Ri dynasty archives, were shipped to Japan. Schol­ars say some 200,000 vol­umes of ancient books of less­er dis­tinc­tion were then burned, as part of a delib­er­ate pro­gram to erase Korea’s dis­tinc­tive cul­ture. They list more 42,000 cul­tur­al relics includ­ing ancient man­u­scripts, tak­en to Japan for ‘study’, and nev­er returned. For good mea­sure, the Japan­ese used dyna­mite to blow up a mon­u­ment to King Tae­jo (1396–1398) and a mon­u­ment to Sam-yong, the mil­i­tant Bud­dhist priest who led the resis­tance to Japan’s samu­rai inva­sion in 1592.

“Japan’s aim,” said Kore­an his­to­ri­an Yi Kibeck, “was to erad­i­cate con­scious­ness of Kore­an nation­al iden­ti­ty, roots and all, and thus to oblit­er­ate the very exis­tence of the Kore­an peo­ple from the face of the earth.”

Once stripped of their her­itage and iden­ti­ty, Kore­ans were to be made-over into sec­ond-class Japan­ese. Divest­ed of their inher­it­ed land, they had their names changed into Japan­ese names, and were forced to adopt Shin­to in place of their own Bud­dhist, Con­fu­cian or Chris­t­ian beliefs. Japan’s emper­or would be their only god, and any Kore­an who refused to acknowl­edge his divin­i­ty was arrest­ed. Tem­ples were loot­ed of bronze bells and Bud­dhist stat­u­ary. Even ordi­nary reli­gious met­al­work was removed and melt­ed down for weapons as ‘spir­i­tu­al coop­er­a­tion behind the guns.’ Kore­ans were to speak only Japan­ese; Kore­an writ­ers could only pub­lish in Japan­ese, and all schools taught only in Japan­ese. At home, Kore­ans were expect­ed to speak Japan­ese to each oth­er.

In 1907, Tokyo forced King Kojong to abdi­cate in favor of his retard­ed ten-year old son. They styled the boy ‘Crown Prince Impe­r­i­al Yi Un’ and sent him off to Tokyo, claim­ing he would be edu­cat­ed side-by-side with Meiji’s grandsons—Princes Hiro­hi­to, Chichibu and Taka­mat­su. In truth, the boy was a hostage, whose sur­vival depend­ed on con­tin­ued coop­er­a­tion by Korea’s roy­al fam­i­ly. For some rea­son, Emper­or Mei­ji found the oy sym­pa­thet­ic, and lav­ished atten­tion and gifts on him, the sort of affec­tion he nev­er demon­strat­ed toward his own grand­sons. The boy was eas­i­ly per­suad­ed to sign away his claim to the Kore­an throne.

In sub­se­quent decades, thou­sands of oth­er Kore­an cul­tur­al arti­facts were forcibly removed by Japan and nev­er returned, despite promis­es. When peo­ple are so thor­ough­ly ter­ror­ized, it is impos­si­ble to come for­ward lat­er with a pre­cise list of what was stolen, or a stack of receipts. In 1965, the South Kore­an gov­ern­ment demand­ed the return of 4,479 items that it was able to iden­ti­fy indi­vid­u­al­ly. Of hose, Japan grudg­ing­ly returned only 1,432, tak­ing anoth­er thir­ty years to do so. The great mass of Kore­an cul­tur­al trea­sure remains in Japan to this day, in pri­vate col­lec­tions, muse­ums, and the vaults of the Impe­r­i­al Fam­i­ly. Much of this pat­ri­mo­ny is beyond price. Here alone is evi­dence that Japan was far from bank­rupt at the end of World War II.

There always are col­lab­o­ra­tors. Over forty years, a Japan­ese antique deal­er named Naka­da amassed a for­tune loot­ing and export­ing ancient Koryo celadons. His part­ner was a for­mer high offi­cial of the Ri dynasty, who also became a mil­lion­aire.

Most Kore­an landown­ers were stripped of their estates and agri­cul­tur­al prop­er­ties, which were snapped up by Japan­ese devel­op­ers. One devel­op­er acquired over 300,000 acres in Korea, where he intend­ed to set­tle Japan­ese immi­grants. As ten­ant farm­ers lost their land, they and the urban poor were round­ed up and shipped off as slave labor to work in mines and con­struc­tion brigades in Japan, or in the des­o­late Kurile Islands. Six­ty thou­sand Kore­ans were forced to toil as slave labor in coal mines and mil­i­tary fac­to­ries in the Sakhalin penin­su­la of Siberia. Of these 43,000 were still in Sakhalin at the end of World War II, when they came under Sovi­et con­trol, and had great dif­fi­cul­ty get­ting home.

Before 1945, it is believed that over six mil­lion Kore­an men were forced into slave labor bat­tal­ions. Of these, near­ly one mil­lion were sent to Japan. Oth­ers were sent to the Philip­pines or to the Dutch East Indies, to do con­struc­tion work for the Japan­ese Army and navy, and to dig tun­nels and bunkers for war loot, where they were worked to death or buried alive to hide the loca­tions. On August 24, 1945, a group of 5,000 Kore­an slave labor­ers who had spent the war dig­ging a major under­ground com­plex for war loot in Japan’s Aomori Pre­fec­ture, were put aboard the war­ship Ukishi­ma Maru to be ‘tak­en home to Korea.’ The ship sailed first to Maizu­ru Naval base on the west coast of Japan. There the Kore­ans were sealed in the car­go holds, and the ship was tak­en off­shore and scut­tled, by blow­ing a hole in the hull with dyna­mite. Out of 5,000 Kore­ans aboard, only 80 sur­vived. Tokyo claimed that the Kore­ans locked in the hold had scut­tled the ship them­selves. Fifty-sev­en years lat­er, 15 of these sur­vivors, and rel­a­tives of oth­ers, at last won a law­suit against the Japan­ese gov­ern­ment, for com­pen­sa­tion. A court in Kyoto ruled in August 2001 that the Japan­ese gov­ern­ment must pay 3‑million yen (less than $30,000) to each of the plain­tiffs. But the court also ruled that there was no need for the gov­ern­ment of Japan to apol­o­gize for the ‘inci­dent’.

Aside from the six mil­lion Kore­an men dra­gooned as slave labor, tens of thou­sands of young Kore­ans were con­script­ed into the Japan­ese Army, to serve as can­non-fod­der n cam­paigns far to the south, many end­ing up in Bur­ma or New Guinea.

Sad­dest of all were thou­sands of Kore­an girls duped into going to Japan for employ­ment, instead end­ing up in broth­els. It was in Korea that the kem­peitai set up its first offi­cial army broth­els in 1904. These were filled with kid­napped women and girls, fore­run­ners of hun­dreds of thou­sands of Kore­an women lat­er forced to serve as Com­fort Women in army broth­els all over Asia. Kore­ans were tar­get­ed because it was believed that if Japan­ese women and girls were forced into pros­ti­tu­tion for the army, sol­diers might mutiny. The Japan­ese Army to pains to char­ac­ter­ize Kore­an women and girls as mere live­stock. Mer­cy was in short sup­ply. [Again, the late Park Won-soon was out­spo­ken on behalf of the Com­fort Women and against Japan’s colo­nial occu­pa­tion of Korea—D.E.]

Bruce Cum­ings sums up their predica­ment: “Mil­lions of peo­ple used and abused by the Japan­ese can­not get records on what they know to have hap­pened to them, and thou­sands of Kore­ans who worked with the Japan­ese have sim­ply erased that his­to­ry as if it had nev­er hap­pened.”. . . 

1b.“How the war crim­i­nals of Impe­r­i­al Japan shaped mod­ern South Kore­an pol­i­tics and busi­ness: the pro-Japan­ese lega­cy that Kishi, Sasakawa, and Kodama left behind in Kore­an con­ser­vatism;” exposingimperialjapan.com; 12/10/2024.

As a Japan­ese blog­ger post­ing con­tent about Impe­r­i­al Japan’s col­o­niza­tion of Korea, I have been fol­low­ing the lat­est news com­ing out of South Korea and noticed the dis­may that many Kore­an cit­i­zens have about the “pro-Japan­ese” nature of their con­ser­v­a­tive politi­cians. By “pro-Japan­ese,” they refer to the way Kore­an con­ser­v­a­tive politi­cians are def­er­en­tial toward Japan­ese politi­cians in mat­ters of his­tor­i­cal dis­putes, eco­nom­ic col­lab­o­ra­tion, and secu­ri­ty agree­ments.

This def­er­en­tial stance is often seen in the han­dling of con­tentious his­tor­i­cal issues, such as the acknowl­edg­ment of wartime and colo­nial atroc­i­ties and abus­es, repa­ra­tions for vic­tims of forced labor and sex­u­al slav­ery, and the preser­va­tion of Japan’s nation­al nar­ra­tive over these events. Fur­ther­more, it is reflect­ed in agree­ments or com­pro­mis­es that seem to pri­or­i­tize Japan’s strate­gic and diplo­mat­ic inter­ests over address­ing long-stand­ing griev­ances held by South Kore­an cit­i­zens. These actions have often left a sig­nif­i­cant por­tion of the Kore­an pop­u­lace feel­ing that their lead­ers are neglect­ing nation­al dig­ni­ty and jus­tice in favor of main­tain­ing close ties with Japan.

In this post, I’m going to tell a nar­ra­tive to part­ly answer the ques­tion as to why these “pro-Japan­ese” ten­den­cies per­sist in the Kore­an con­ser­v­a­tive move­ment in Korea, includ­ing some links with sources for fur­ther read­ing. This is by no means a com­pre­hen­sive answer, but I hope this post becomes a resource to gath­er much of the rel­e­vant his­tor­i­cal infor­ma­tion about this issue in one place. In this nar­ra­tive, I trace how Kishi Nobusuke orga­nized for­mer war crim­i­nals and oth­er promi­nent for­mer Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese gov­ern­ment and mil­i­tary offi­cials to recon­sti­tute as much of the for­mer Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese regime as pos­si­ble in the post-war envi­ron­ment, then exert influ­ence in Korea. Oth­ers have post­ed more detailed infor­ma­tion online which explain how Kishi and his suc­ces­sors came to dom­i­nate the Lib­er­al Demo­c­ra­t­ic Par­ty and Japan­ese pol­i­tics, but in this post, I will focus more on the inter­ac­tions that Kishi’s asso­ciates had with Kore­an gov­ern­ment offi­cials and busi­ness­men over the decades to exert pow­er and influ­ence over South Korea in the post­war era. Through this explo­ration, I hope to pro­vide read­ers with a deep­er under­stand­ing of why these pro-Japan­ese ten­den­cies per­sist in Korea and what it reveals about the ongo­ing impact of Impe­r­i­al Japan’s colo­nial lega­cy in Korea.

We will begin this nar­ra­tive in 1940’s defeat­ed post-war Japan, rav­aged by World War II and occu­pied by Allied forces. The Amer­i­cans have impris­oned the class A war crim­i­nals at Sug­amo Prison. How­ev­er, oth­er war crim­i­nals were released once the Amer­i­cans decid­ed that they could become use­ful anti-Com­mu­nist lead­ers of post­war Japan. Among the released war crim­i­nals was Kishi Nobusuke, a key archi­tect of Impe­r­i­al Japan’s wartime econ­o­my. Kishi emerged from Sug­amo Prison in the post-war years with a renewed ambi­tion: to recon­sti­tute as much of the old Impe­r­i­al Japan as pos­si­ble. He was embold­ened by his obser­va­tion that the Amer­i­cans did not care what his true polit­i­cal beliefs were, as long as he was a staunch anti-Com­mu­nist. Impris­oned as a sus­pect­ed Class A war crim­i­nal, Kishi befriend­ed two fel­low war crim­i­nals who would become instru­men­tal to his vision—Ryoichi Sasakawa and Yoshio Kodama. Togeth­er, these men cul­ti­vat­ed a net­work that blend­ed polit­i­cal influ­ence, cor­po­rate ambi­tion, and orga­nized crime to reshape Japan’s role in East Asia.

In wartime Japan, Sasakawa was the founder and leader of the Nation­al Essence League (国粋同盟), one of the most extreme right-wing polit­i­cal orga­ni­za­tions in Impe­r­i­al Japan. Sasakawa admired Ben­i­to Mus­soli­ni and mod­eled his orga­ni­za­tion on Ital­ian Fas­cist prin­ci­ples, even vis­it­ing Nazi Ger­many and fas­cist Italy in 1939. While he held a posi­tion as a Diet par­lia­ment mem­ber, Sasakawa spent much of the war giv­ing moti­va­tion­al speech­es to the Impe­r­i­al Army and the gen­er­al pub­lic across the Empire to boost war morale. In his remarks dur­ing one vis­it to Korea in 1943, he encour­aged lead­ers to “punch Kore­ans with an iron fist” if they seemed unsteady and unfo­cused (ふらふら), claim­ing that such actions were acts of love (可愛ければこその鉄拳である) nec­es­sary to bring them back in line. This phi­los­o­phy aligned with the broad­er Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese mil­i­tary cul­ture, which heav­i­ly relied on cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment. In this way, he nor­mal­ized the phys­i­cal abuse of Kore­ans and ratio­nal­ized it as an act of tough love to mold the Kore­ans into ‘true Japan­ese peo­ple’.

While incar­cer­at­ed at Sug­amo Prison, Sasakawa kept a detailed diary that high­light­ed his belief in align­ing Japan with a pro-Amer­i­can, anti-com­mu­nist stance. Dur­ing his time at Sug­amo Prison, he worked tire­less­ly to improve the treat­ment of pris­on­ers, earn­ing respect from both high-rank­ing war crim­i­nals and low­er-tier detainees. Sasakawa famous­ly referred to Sug­amo Prison as his “ulti­mate uni­ver­si­ty,” a place where he built rela­tion­ships that lat­er con­nect­ed him to Japan’s post-war estab­lish­ment.

Sasakawa lat­er sup­port­ed the con­tro­ver­sial Uni­fi­ca­tion Church founder Sun Myung Moon in his anti-com­mu­nist activ­i­ties. From 1968 to 1972, Sasakawa was the hon­orary pres­i­dent and patron of the Japan­ese branch of the Inter­na­tion­al Fed­er­a­tion for Vic­to­ry over Com­mu­nism (Koku­sai Shōkyō Rengō), which forged inti­mate ties with Japan’s con­ser­v­a­tive politi­cians. Allen Tate Wood, a for­mer top Amer­i­can polit­i­cal leader of the Uni­fi­ca­tion Church of the Unit­ed States, recalled his sur­prise upon hear­ing Sasakawa telling an audi­ence, refer­ring to him­self, “I am Mr. Moon’s dog.”

Kodama, who was des­ig­nat­ed as the “fix­er” by Kishi, uti­lized his con­nec­tions to play a piv­otal role in nor­mal­iz­ing Japan-South Korea rela­tions in 1965. Fol­low­ing the nor­mal­iza­tion treaty, Kodama fre­quent­ly vis­it­ed South Korea, where he liaised with mem­bers of Park Chung-hee’s admin­is­tra­tion, serv­ing as a fix­er for Japan­ese cor­po­ra­tions and the yakuza. Kodama’s influ­ence facil­i­tat­ed the inflow of $500 mil­lion in repa­ra­tions and eco­nom­ic aid from Japan, which jump-start­ed South Korea’s indus­tri­al devel­op­ment and cre­at­ed lucra­tive oppor­tu­ni­ties for Japan­ese busi­ness­es.

One of Kishi’s most sig­nif­i­cant col­lab­o­ra­tions was with Ryu­zo Seji­ma, a for­mer Impe­r­i­al Army offi­cer turned cor­po­rate strate­gist. Seji­ma, who sur­vived 11 years as a Sovi­et pris­on­er of war, joined Kishi in forg­ing the Japan-South Korea Coop­er­a­tion Com­mit­tee, which solid­i­fied ties between the two nations. This com­mit­tee laid the ground­work for deep eco­nom­ic and polit­i­cal col­lab­o­ra­tion, with fig­ures like Seji­ma serv­ing as trust­ed inter­me­di­aries.

The nor­mal­iza­tion of rela­tions between Japan and South Korea in 1965, made pos­si­ble by a part­ner­ship between Kishi and South Kore­an dic­ta­tor Park Chung-hee, was not mere­ly a diplo­mat­ic mile­stone; it was a strate­gic align­ment against the shared threat of com­mu­nism. The repa­ra­tions pack­age and sub­se­quent eco­nom­ic coop­er­a­tion enabled Japan­ese firms to enter the Kore­an mar­ket, fur­ther inter­twin­ing the two coun­tries’ fates. Park Chung-hee, a for­mer offi­cer in the Japan­ese-con­trolled Manchukuo Army, shared ide­o­log­i­cal and per­son­al ties with Kishi and his asso­ciates. Park pre­ferred to sur­round him­self with fel­low Impe­r­i­al Army acad­e­my grad­u­ates, such as Paik Sun-yup, a dec­o­rat­ed hero of the Kore­an War but a con­tro­ver­sial fig­ure due to his ear­li­er ser­vice in the Gan­do Spe­cial Force of the Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese Army in Manchuria from 1943 to 1945. Paik was also involved in putting down the Yeo­su-Sun­chon Rebel­lion (거수·순천 사건) of Octo­ber 1948, a bru­tal oper­a­tion marked by ran­sack­ing, rap­ing, and killing of civil­ians, with many of the sol­diers still wear­ing old Japan­ese army uni­forms. This choice of asso­ciates reflect­ed Park’s reliance on fig­ures who, like him­self, shared a con­nec­tion to Japan’s colo­nial and mil­i­tary insti­tu­tions.

The pre­dom­i­nance of pro-Japan­ese sen­ti­ments with­in South Korea’s con­ser­v­a­tive elite can be traced back to the ear­ly days of Syn­g­man Rhee’s pres­i­den­cy. Rhee, whose domes­tic sup­port base was weak, was forced to rely on col­lab­o­ra­tors with Impe­r­i­al Japan to staff key posi­tions in the police and mil­i­tary. The South Kore­an army, for instance, was large­ly found­ed and com­mand­ed by for­mer offi­cers of the Japan­ese mil­i­tary, while the police force was sim­i­lar­ly dom­i­nat­ed by those who had served under the colo­nial admin­is­tra­tion. This extend­ed to oth­er sec­tors as well, includ­ing the judi­cia­ry, media, edu­ca­tion, cul­ture, and reli­gion. While Rhee him­self can­not be described as pro-Japan­ese, the pil­lars of his gov­ern­ment over­lapped sig­nif­i­cant­ly with indi­vid­u­als who had thrived dur­ing Japan’s colo­nial rule.

The Spe­cial Com­mit­tee for Pros­e­cu­tion of Anti-Nation­al Activ­i­ties, estab­lished in Octo­ber 1948 to address col­lab­o­ra­tion dur­ing the colo­nial peri­od, was quick­ly dis­man­tled after just over a year of activ­i­ty. Although the com­mit­tee com­piled a list of approx­i­mate­ly 7,000 alleged col­lab­o­ra­tors and arrest­ed some promi­nent fig­ures, its efforts were sup­pressed by the very police force that includ­ed for­mer colo­nial offi­cials. The committee’s offices were raid­ed, effec­tive­ly curb­ing its oper­a­tions. [Source: Asahi Webron­za Arti­cle]

The nar­ra­tive of South Korea’s con­ser­v­a­tive elite shift­ed after inde­pen­dence. Their jus­ti­fi­ca­tion for main­tain­ing pow­er and influ­ence cen­tered on staunch anti-com­mu­nism, pro-Amer­i­can­ism, and con­ser­vatism. Many for­mer col­lab­o­ra­tors, once aligned with Japan, rapid­ly recast them­selves as pro-Amer­i­can defend­ers of South Korea’s nascent democ­ra­cy. In the con­text of a fierce Cold War rival­ry with North Korea, this repo­si­tion­ing allowed them to frame their actions as vital for the sur­vival of the state, rather than rem­nants of colo­nial oppres­sion.

Dur­ing the post­war peri­od, Kishi and his allies cul­ti­vat­ed rela­tion­ships with South Korea’s emerg­ing con­ser­v­a­tive elite, includ­ing Rev­erend Sun Myung Moon and busi­ness mag­nates such as Samsung’s Lee Byung-chul and POSCO’s Park Tae-joon. Lee Byung-chul’s busi­ness empire had its ori­gins dur­ing the colo­nial era in Korea, with the estab­lish­ment of Sam­sung Sang­hoe in Daegu on March 1, 1938, ini­tial­ly focused on export­ing dried fish and apples. His busi­ness suc­cess dur­ing this peri­od like­ly would not have been pos­si­ble with­out at least some col­lab­o­ra­tion with Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese author­i­ties. Sam­sung con­tin­ues to exert sig­nif­i­cant polit­i­cal influ­ence in con­ser­v­a­tive cir­cles to this day. For exam­ple, The People’s Pow­er par­ty recruit­ed Koh Dong-jin, an advis­er to Sam­sung Elec­tron­ics, ahead of the April 10 gen­er­al elec­tions in 2024.

Seji­ma played an instru­men­tal role in shap­ing South Korea’s export-dri­ven econ­o­my by advis­ing on the estab­lish­ment of trad­ing com­pa­nies and indus­tri­al giants. His insights were so val­ued that employ­ees at Sam­sung Group orga­nized book clubs around the Japan­ese nov­el Fumou Chi­tai (The Waste­land), whose pro­tag­o­nist was mod­eled after Seji­ma.

Anoth­er key con­tact for Kishi’s asso­ciates was Kim Jong-pil, head of the Kore­an Cen­tral Intel­li­gence Agency (KCIA) and a close asso­ciate of Park Chung-hee. Kim’s sup­port for the Uni­fi­ca­tion Church, led by Rev­erend Moon, exem­pli­fied his efforts to con­sol­i­date a con­ser­v­a­tive, anti-com­mu­nist bloc with­in South Korea. Notably, Kim, along with Park Chung-hee and Park Tae-joon, spoke Japan­ese so flu­ent­ly that a Japan­ese diplo­mat once remarked that they seemed indis­tin­guish­able from native Japan­ese speak­ers. Addi­tion­al­ly, Kim’s broth­er held secret dis­cus­sions in Japan with Ichi­ro Kono, lead­ing to an agree­ment to leave the con­tentious Takeshima/Dokdo issue unre­solved, encap­su­lat­ed by the phrase “set­tle­ment by not set­tling.”

Sejima’s deep con­nec­tion with South Korea is evi­dent in his mem­oir Many Moun­tains and Rivers (Ikuzan­ga), pub­lished in 1995. Seji­ma praised for­mer Pres­i­dent Park Chung-hee as “a self-dis­ci­plined leader with pro­found insight and lead­er­ship,” and expressed spe­cial respect for Lee Byung-chul, the founder of Sam­sung, call­ing him “a revered senior, broth­er, and teacher.” Through Lee Byung-chul, Seji­ma also forged ties with for­mer Pres­i­dents Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo.

Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo, both mil­i­tary gen­er­als-turned-pres­i­dents who suc­ceed­ed Park Chung-hee after his assas­si­na­tion in 1979, admired Seji­ma as a senior offi­cer and respect­ed his strate­gic insights. Chun Doo-hwan, in par­tic­u­lar, felt that defend­ing the Kore­an Penin­su­la from the North Kore­an threat was not sole­ly South Korea’s bur­den but a shared respon­si­bil­i­ty with Japan. Chun argued that Japan, giv­en its prox­im­i­ty and vest­ed inter­ests in region­al sta­bil­i­ty, should active­ly con­tribute to South Korea’s defense capa­bil­i­ties. This stance led Chun to push for eco­nom­ic and mil­i­tary sup­port from Japan, fram­ing it as essen­tial for the col­lec­tive secu­ri­ty of East Asia. These appeals res­onat­ed with Japan­ese lead­ers, who viewed a sta­ble and anti-com­mu­nist South Korea as a cru­cial buffer against North­ern aggres­sion.

A key episode high­light­ing Sejima’s close con­nec­tions with South Kore­an lead­er­ship was his meet­ing with Kwon Ik-hyun, a promi­nent mem­ber of the Demo­c­ra­t­ic Jus­tice Par­ty with strong ties to Sam­sung. In Decem­ber 1982, act­ing as a spe­cial envoy for Prime Min­is­ter Yasuhi­ro Naka­sone, Seji­ma met Kwon Ik-hyun at Gimhae Air­port for a secret meet­ing. The two reached a fun­da­men­tal agree­ment to resolve the strained Japan-South Korea rela­tions caused by issues such as Japan’s his­to­ry text­book con­tro­ver­sies and eco­nom­ic coop­er­a­tion loans. This agree­ment paved the way for Yasuhi­ro Nakasone’s offi­cial vis­it to South Korea, aimed at reset­ting bilat­er­al ties. Kwon, known for his strate­gic think­ing and influ­ence with­in South Korea’s con­ser­v­a­tive elite, worked close­ly with busi­ness mag­nates like Lee Byung-chul to align polit­i­cal and cor­po­rate inter­ests. Through Kwon, Seji­ma was able to deep­en his under­stand­ing of South Korea’s eco­nom­ic and polit­i­cal dynam­ics, fur­ther solid­i­fy­ing the part­ner­ship between Japan­ese and Kore­an elites.

Yasuhi­ro Naka­sone‘s his­toric vis­it to Seoul in 1983 marked a new phase of Japan-South Korea coop­er­a­tion. Behind the scenes, Sejima’s qui­et diplo­ma­cy helped nego­ti­ate key eco­nom­ic loans that fund­ed South Korea’s infra­struc­ture, includ­ing the Seoul sub­way and pow­er plants, while advanc­ing Japan’s region­al inter­ests. This allowed Japan to influ­ence South Korea’s polit­i­cal and eco­nom­ic tra­jec­to­ry in the 1980’s, cul­mi­nat­ing in events like the 1988 Seoul Olympics, which bol­stered South Korea’s glob­al stand­ing.

The his­tor­i­cal lega­cy of this net­work resur­faced in lat­er years when Park Chung-hee’s daugh­ter, Park Geun-hye, served as Pres­i­dent of South Korea. In a poignant moment of his­tor­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance, she met with Shin­zo Abe, the grand­son of Kishi Nobusuke, in 2015 dur­ing her pres­i­den­cy. This meet­ing result­ed in an agree­ment intend­ed to “final­ly and irre­versibly” set­tle the con­tentious issue of com­fort women. As part of the agree­ment, the Japan­ese gov­ern­ment pledged $9 mil­lion to a fund for the sur­viv­ing vic­tims. For Japan­ese con­ser­v­a­tives, this rel­a­tive­ly small sum was seen as a way to put the dark­er aspects of Impe­r­i­al Japan’s past to rest per­ma­nent­ly, effec­tive­ly allow­ing them to bury the his­to­ry of wartime atroc­i­ties and abus­es with­out fur­ther scruti­ny. They viewed this as a sig­nif­i­cant polit­i­cal vic­to­ry, express­ing grat­i­tude to South Korea’s con­ser­v­a­tive lead­er­ship for facil­i­tat­ing such a res­o­lu­tion. Indeed, Kore­an con­ser­v­a­tives hon­ored this agree­ment by refrain­ing from crit­i­ciz­ing Japan on the com­fort women issue at a recent UN con­fer­ence dis­cussing women’s human rights issues.

This 2015 meet­ing between Park and Abe also sym­bol­ized the endur­ing influ­ence of their respec­tive fam­i­ly lega­cies in shap­ing Japan-South Korea rela­tions. The inter­ac­tion high­light­ed how the ide­o­log­i­cal and polit­i­cal frame­works estab­lished by Kishi and Park Chung-hee have con­tin­ued to influ­ence the bilat­er­al dynam­ics between the two nations.

So what now? How is this rel­e­vant to the present? Many of the politi­cians and busi­ness­men men­tioned in this post have descen­dants and pro­teges who con­tin­ue to car­ry on their lega­cy and dom­i­nate Kore­an con­ser­v­a­tive pol­i­tics today. For instance, Paik Sun-yup’s daugh­ter, Paik Nam-hee (백남희), recent­ly estab­lished the Paik Sun-yup Memo­r­i­al Foun­da­tion, describ­ing it as “an orga­ni­za­tion of hope that con­soles the hearts of the vic­tims of the Kore­an War and their bereaved fam­i­lies.” This foun­da­tion por­trays her father’s career in the most favor­able light while omit­ting ref­er­ences to his con­tro­ver­sial actions. Sim­i­lar­ly, Sam­sung remains a fam­i­ly-run enter­prise, with the founder Lee Byung-chul’s grand­son now serv­ing as its chair­man, per­pet­u­at­ing the lega­cy of its founder.

The People’s Pow­er Par­ty of Korea today has strong incen­tives to safe­guard the rep­u­ta­tions of their pre­de­ces­sors, active­ly avoid­ing any rev­e­la­tions that might tar­nish their image. This includes down­play­ing or sup­press­ing colo­nial his­to­ry, as such scruti­ny could expose uncom­fort­able truths about Kore­an col­lab­o­ra­tors dur­ing the Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese colo­nial peri­od. As long as the col­lab­o­ra­tors and their descen­dants retain influ­ence, a com­pre­hen­sive and hon­est exam­i­na­tion of Korea’s colo­nial and Cold War his­to­ry may remain out of reach.

Ulti­mate­ly, the neo-Impe­ri­al­ist ambi­tions of Kishi Nobusuke and his allies were not a direct attempt to restore Impe­r­i­al Japan but rather to secure Japan’s posi­tion as a region­al leader in the Cold War con­text. Through alliances with fig­ures like Park Chung-hee, Chun Doo-hwan, and South Korea’s busi­ness elite, they lever­aged his­tor­i­cal ties and strate­gic inter­ests to reshape East Asia. Today, their lega­cy remains deeply embed­ded in the polit­i­cal and eco­nom­ic struc­tures of Japan-South Korea rela­tions, for bet­ter or worse.

1b.The Yam­a­to Dynasty; Ster­ling Sea­grave and Peg­gy Sea­grave; Copy­right 1999 by Peg­gy and Ster­ling Sea­grave; Broad­way Books [a divi­sion of Ran­dom House] [HC]; ISBN 0–7679-0496–6; pp. 270–272.

1c.“Gold War­riors” by Dou­glas Valen­tine; Coun­ter­punch; 9/25/2003.

” . . . . They [the Japan­ese] build roads and cre­ate indus­tries and, more impor­tant­ly, they work with cor­rupt war­lords and Chi­nese gang­sters asso­ci­at­ed with Chi­ang Kai-shek’s Kuom­intang Par­ty to trans­form Manchuria into a vast pop­py field. By 1937 the Japan­ese and their gang­ster and Kuom­intang asso­ciates are respon­si­ble for 90% of the world’s illic­it nar­cotics. They turn Manchu emper­or Pu Yi into an addict, and open thou­sands of opi­um dens as a way of sup­press­ing the Chi­nese. . . .”

2a.“On the Ques­tion of Col­lab­o­ra­tion in South Korea” by: Suk-Jung Han; Asia-Pacif­ic Jour­nal;  02/07/2008.

. . . . It would be mean­ing­ful to objec­tive­ly ana­lyze the roles, log­ic and impact of pro-Japan­ese col­lab­o­ra­tors in post-colo­nial South Korea, a nation that has been and con­tin­ues to be haunt­ed by the issue of col­lab­o­ra­tion. I want to point out that many who have been labeled col­lab­o­ra­tors pos­sessed a cer­tain human cap­i­tal that proved use­ful to the rulers of the new state-for­ma­tion. In con­sid­er­ing their role and their achieve­ments in South Korea, how­ev­er, we wish to call atten­tion to some­thing big (the so-called struc­tur­al fac­tor). That is the ques­tion of U.S. hege­mo­ny in the Cold war era.

Manchuri­ans as the ulti­mate vic­tors

The most dra­mat­ic case of the rise of a for­mer col­lab­o­ra­tor in South Korea is that of gen­er­al and ex-pres­i­dent Park Chung Hee who is wide­ly cred­it­ed with lead­ing its star­tling eco­nom­ic surge in the 1960s. He attend­ed mil­i­tary acad­e­my in both Manchukuo and Japan, and became a low rank­ing offi­cer in the Manchukuo Army. After lib­er­a­tion, he joined the new­ly found­ed Kore­an Army and his 1961 coup d’état inau­gu­rat­ed a near­ly two decade long reign. Park thus reen­act­ed in South Korea two his­tor­i­cal events wit­nessed ear­li­er in Manchukuo: mil­i­tary revolt fol­lowed by state-led indus­tri­al­iza­tion. Park was not alone. His rise in South Korea went hand in hand with the rise of oth­ers who served in Manchuria (now North­east Chi­na where Japan’s Kwan­tung Army found­ed the pup­pet state of Manchukuo from 1932–45).

Until the 1960s, numer­ous South Kore­an politi­cians claimed to have fought the Japan­ese in Manchuria. Manchuria was a myth­ic land in which peo­ple freely drew their own self-por­trait. Even those who had nev­er been there did so. For instance, the Nobel lau­re­ate ex-pres­i­dent Kim Dae Jung false­ly claimed dur­ing his 1971 pres­i­den­tial elec­tion that he had attend­ed Jian­guo Uni­ver­si­ty in Manchuria. Regard­less of their past, a num­ber of Kore­ans who had been in Manchuria dur­ing the colo­nial peri­od, after return­ing home, trans­formed them­selves into anti-Japan­ese fight­ers. Actu­al­ly, there had been an exo­dus of some 700,000 Kore­ans to Manchuria on the ini­tia­tive of the colo­nial gov­ern­ment in the 1930s. The num­ber of Kore­ans in Manchuria exceed­ed two mil­lion by 1945. Manchuria became their El Dora­do while grap­pling with the harsh con­di­tions on a new fron­tier. Many rose to promi­nence in postlib­er­a­tion Korea. In par­tic­u­lar, those who had stud­ied at flag­ship mil­i­tary acad­e­mies and col­leges in Manchukuo would lead South Korea’s indus­tri­al­iza­tion and urban­iza­tion dri­ves in the 1960s.

In numer­ous West­ern colonies, native agents of the state who mas­tered the mas­ter lan­guage were among the first to be exposed to the winds of colo­nial moder­ni­ty. They were schooled in such ingre­di­ents of moder­ni­ty as punc­tu­al­i­ty, month­ly salary, bureau­crat­ic skill, as well as mil­i­tary skills of drill, firearms, even counter-insur­gency. Colo­nial armies, in par­tic­u­lar, were their school.

Kore­ans gained valu­able tech­ni­cal and man­age­r­i­al expe­ri­ence in gov­ern­ment, army, the Kyowakai (the fas­cist par­ty aspir­ing to link gov­ern­ment and peo­ple), and police, as well as in the hos­pi­tals and fac­to­ries of Manchukuo. This dif­fers great­ly from the expe­ri­ence of most of the Kore­ans who migrat­ed to (or stud­ied in) Japan dur­ing the colo­nial peri­od, the major­i­ty of whom were con­fined to jobs as man­u­al work­ers there. Manchukuo was a land of oppor­tu­ni­ty not only for Japan­ese but also for Kore­ans. These “Manchuri­ans” pos­sessed com­par­a­tive advan­tages in the quest for pow­er and posi­tion in postlib­er­a­tion Korea, where a pow­er vac­u­um emerged fol­low­ing the depar­ture of Japan­ese rulers.

U.S. hege­mo­ny

The nec­es­sary con­di­tion for the employ­ment of their tal­ent was U.S. hege­mo­ny, which was estab­lished in South Korea after lib­er­a­tion. [2] South Korea was very dif­fer­ent from North Korea, where land­lords and pro-Japan­ese col­lab­o­ra­tors were erad­i­cat­ed or fled to the South. Nation­al­ists, par­tic­u­lar­ly those who emerged from the anti-Japan­ese resis­tance, were not wel­comed into the South Kore­an admin­is­tra­tion, Army, or police force built by the occu­py­ing U.S. forces. A spe­cial com­mit­tee set up under the new Kore­an con­gress in 1948 to inves­ti­gate the activ­i­ties of those who had worked for the Japan­ese empire was sup­pressed by the U.S.-backed Syn­g­man Rhee gov­ern­ment, par­tic­u­lar­ly by the Kore­an police whose high­er ech­e­lons were large­ly staffed with ex-colo­nial police. It was dis­band­ed with­in half a year. [3]

Kore­ans who had been trained by and served in Japan­ese forces in Manchuria were favored in the Kore­an Army. For­mer offi­cers of the Manchukuo Army attained recog­ni­tion for sup­press­ing the rev­o­lu­tion­ary guer­ril­las in “ban­dit” sup­pres­sion cam­paigns in Manchukuo. Lat­er they became the main pil­lar of Park’s regime, which con­front­ed the North Kore­an state that was built on the foun­da­tions of the anti-Japan­ese gueril­la move­ment on the Manchukuo-Kore­an bor­der.

The “Manchuri­ans” led sev­er­al realms in Park’s mod­ern­iza­tion project, includ­ing the for­mu­la­tion of the mil­i­tary nation­al­ist hwarang ide­ol­o­gy. Even in the music world, they led the way, orga­niz­ing the Kore­an Navy Orches­tra and Army Orches­tra, pro­duc­ing numer­ous songs that served the regime dur­ing impor­tant moments of state-build­ing as well as in the dis­patch of Kore­an forces to par­tic­i­pate in the Viet­nam war.

Inter­est­ing­ly, those who had been high offi­cials of the colo­nial state in South Korea were over­shad­owed in the 1960s, their posi­tions large­ly secured by the “Manchuri­ans” who spear­head­ed the com­pe­ti­tion with the north­ern regime through­out the Cold War era. With often only the slight­est change of ideas, plans, insti­tutes, even the very words employed in Manchukuo were sub­se­quent­ly revived by them in South Korea. The focus was on trans­form­ing South Korea into an indus­tri­al war­rior nation capa­ble not only of com­pet­ing with North Korea, but also ulti­mate­ly of climb­ing the lad­der of the cap­i­tal­ist world sys­tem.

The rise of “Manchuri­ans” was facil­i­tat­ed by the Kore­an-Japan­ese nor­mal­iza­tion of 1965 mas­ter­mind­ed by the U.S., which was a kind of reunion of Manchuri­ans on both sides. Ex-Japan­ese prime min­is­ter Kishi Nobusuke and his right hand man Shi­ina Etsaburo who had run the con­trol econ­o­my of Manchukuo, were behind the nor­mal­iza­tion. . . .

2b. “Kim Suk-won;” wikipedia.org.

Kim Suk-won (29 Sep­tem­ber 1893 – 6 August 1978) was a Kore­an offi­cer in the Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese Army dur­ing World War II. Kim was one of the high­est-rank­ing eth­nic Kore­ans in the Japan­ese Army dur­ing the Sec­ond World War. He lat­er became a gen­er­al in the Repub­lic of Korea Army dur­ing the Kore­an War . . . .

Inva­sion of Manchuria

Dur­ing the 1931 inva­sion of Manchuria, Kim was cap­tain of a mech­a­nised artillery divi­sion, which had a dis­tin­guished com­bat record. After the 1937 out­break of the Sec­ond Sino-Japan­ese War, Kim was fur­ther pro­mot­ed to major, and assigned to the IJA 20th Divi­sion based out­side of Seoul, which was a sin­gu­lar indi­ca­tion of the trust that he had attained with­in the Japan­ese mil­i­tary.[2]

Sec­ond Sino-Japan­ese War

Kim was dis­patched to main­land Chi­na in July 1937. Pri­or to depart­ing, he announced that he intend­ed to die for the Emper­or in bat­tle and asked that a school be estab­lished in his mem­o­ry, to be financed part­ly by the 700 won reward mon­ey he had received from Emper­or Hiro­hi­to for his pre­vi­ous vic­to­ries in Manchuria. How­ev­er, this request alarmed the offi­cials in the Japan­ese admin­is­tra­tion in Korea, who felt that such a school in hon­or of an eth­nic Kore­an that might fos­ter Kore­an nation­al­ism.

Kim dis­tin­guished him­self again at the Bat­tle of Ding­won on 28 July 1937, where he led two com­pa­nies of Japan­ese sol­diers in a sev­en-hour hand-to-hand com­bat that smashed a Chi­nese divi­sion. He was award­ed sev­er­al medals and the Gov­er­nor-Gen­er­al of Korea gave his per­mis­sion for a school, the “Won Suk Acad­e­my” to be found­ed in 1938. This acad­e­my is known today as Seong­nam Junior and Senior High Schools.

Fol­low­ing the 1939 imple­men­ta­tion of the sōshi-kaimei (name change) pol­i­cy, Kim adopt­ed the Japan­ese style name Kaneya­ma Shaku­gen, by adding the char­ac­ter for “moun­tain” to his Kore­an sur­name Kim; his Japan­ese giv­en name “Shaku­gen” was just the Japan­ese read­ing of his Kore­an name.

In March 1939, Kim was pro­mot­ed to lieu­tenant colonel soon after return­ing Seoul, reas­signed to the 78th Infantry Reg­i­ment of the IJA 20th Divi­sion, locat­ed in Yongsan. He award­ed the Order of the Gold­en Kite, 3rd class. In 1944, Kim was fur­ther pro­mot­ed to colonel; he was active on the home front in Korea dur­ing this time, giv­ing speech­es at schools and pub­lish­ing arti­cles in the offi­cial news­pa­per Maeil Sin­bo encour­ag­ing Kore­an youths to vol­un­teer to serve in the Impe­r­i­al Japan­ese Army. He was also instru­men­tal in the imple­men­ta­tion of the draft on the Kore­an penin­su­la, which began from 20 Jan­u­ary 1944.[3]

After World War II

After the sur­ren­der of Japan end­ed World War II, Kim joined the Pro­vi­sion­al Gov­ern­ment of the Repub­lic of Korea’s mil­i­tary affairs com­mis­sion, and lat­er the Repub­lic of Korea Army, where he held the rank of brigadier gen­er­al.[2] In 1948, Pres­i­dent Syn­g­man Rhee put Kim in charge of the South Kore­an bor­der units. . . .

2c. “Charles H. Bon­es­teel;” Wikipedia.org. 

. . . . After car­ry­ing out a series of com­mand and staff assign­ments, he served in the Unit­ed States and Europe dur­ing World War II in a num­ber of senior posi­tions. With the sur­ren­der of Japan immi­nent, Bon­es­teel, Gen­er­al George A. Lin­coln, and Colonel Dean Rusk of the Strat­e­gy Pol­i­cy Com­mit­tee at the Pen­ta­gon were tasked with draw­ing up Gen­er­al Order No. 1 to define the areas of respon­si­bil­i­ty for Amer­i­can, Sovi­et and Chi­nese forces. On August 10, 1945, with Sovi­et forces already mov­ing through Manchuria into north­ern Korea, Bon­es­teel pro­posed the 38th par­al­lel as the Divi­sion of Korea. The draft Gen­er­al Order was cabled to the Sovi­ets on 15 August and accept­ed by them the fol­low­ing day.[7] . . . .

2d. The Hid­den His­to­ry of The Kore­an War by I.F. Stone; Month­ly Review Press [Paper]; Copy­right 1952 by I.F. Stone; ISBN 978–68590-008–3; pp. 293–294.

. . . . The State Depart­ment assigned an Assis­tant Sec­re­tary of State to meet once a week with the com­mit­tee rep­re­sent­ing the six­teen nations [which had con­tributed troops to the war], to give them their brief­ing. But this offi­cial, Dean Rusk, was him­self the dar­ling of the Chi­na Lob­by and even declared in a speech at the Wal­dorf Asto­ria on May 18 that the Unit­ed States rec­og­nized Chi­ang Kai-shek because he “more authen­ti­cal­ly rep­re­sents the view of the great body of the peo­ple of Chi­na” and would help them if they tried to throw off Com­mu­nist “tyran­ny.”. . .

3a.“South Korea’s Chae­bol Chal­lenge” by Eleanor Albert; cfr.org; 04/5/2018.

Many of South Korea’s chae­bol date to the peri­od of Japan­ese occu­pa­tion before the end of World War II, mod­el­ing them­selves after Japan’s pow­er­ful indus­tri­al and finan­cial con­glom­er­ates, known as zaibat­su. As U.S. and inter­na­tion­al aid flowed into Seoul [PDF] fol­low­ing the Kore­an War (1950–1953), the gov­ern­ment pro­vid­ed hun­dreds of mil­lions of dol­lars in spe­cial loans and oth­er finan­cial sup­port to chae­bol as part of a con­cert­ed effort to rebuild the econ­o­my, espe­cial­ly crit­i­cal indus­tries, such as con­struc­tion, chem­i­cals, oil, and steel.

These enter­pris­es flour­ished under the lead­er­ship of Gen­er­al Park Chung-hee, who led a mil­i­tary coup in 1961 and then served as pres­i­dent from 1963 to 1979. . . .

. . . . The top five, tak­en togeth­er, rep­re­sent approx­i­mate­ly half of the South Kore­an stock market’s val­ue. Chae­bol dri­ve the major­i­ty of South Korea’s invest­ment in research and devel­op­ment and employ peo­ple around the world. Sam­sung Elec­tron­ics, the largest Sam­sung affil­i­ate, employs more than 300,000 peo­ple glob­al­ly (more than Apple’s 123,000 and Google’s 88,000 com­bined).

Which are the largest chae­bol?

Sam­sung. Found­ed in 1938, Sam­sung Group is South Korea’s most prof­itable chae­bol, but it began as a small com­pa­ny that export­ed goods, such as fruit, dried fish, and noo­dles, pri­mar­i­ly to Chi­na. Today the con­glom­er­ate is run by sec­ond- and third-gen­er­a­tion mem­bers of the Lee fam­i­ly, the sec­ond-wealth­i­est fam­i­ly in Asia, accord­ing to Forbes. Over the past eighty years, the com­pa­ny has diver­si­fied to include elec­tron­ics, insur­ance, ships, lux­u­ry hotels, hos­pi­tals, an amuse­ment park, and an affil­i­at­ed uni­ver­si­ty. Its largest and most rec­og­nized sub­sidiary is Sam­sung Elec­tron­ics, which for the past decade has account­ed for more than 14 per­cent of South Korea’s gross domes­tic prod­uct (GDP).

Hyundai. Hyundai Group was a small con­struc­tion busi­ness when it opened in 1947 but grew immense­ly to have dozens of sub­sidiaries across the auto­mo­tive, ship­build­ing, finan­cial, and elec­tron­ics indus­tries. In 2003, fol­low­ing the Asian finan­cial cri­sis and the death of its founder, Chung Ju-yung, the chae­bol broke up into five dis­tinct firms. Among the stand­out off­shoots are Hyundai Motor Group, the third-largest car­mak­er in the world, and Hyundai Heavy Indus­tries, the world’s largest ship­build­ing com­pa­ny.

SK Group. The con­glom­er­ate, also known as SK Hold­ings, dates back to the ear­ly 1950s, when the Chey fam­i­ly acquired Sunky­ong Tex­tiles. Today, the chae­bol over­sees around eighty sub­sidiaries, which oper­ate pri­mar­i­ly in the ener­gy, chem­i­cal, finan­cial, ship­ping, insur­ance, and con­struc­tion indus­tries. It is best known for SK Tele­com, the largest wire­less car­ri­er in South Korea, and its semi­con­duc­tor com­pa­ny, SK Hynix, the world’s sec­ond-largest mak­er of mem­o­ry chips.

LG. LG Cor­po­ra­tion, which derives its name from the merg­er of Lucky with Gold­Star, got its start in 1947 in the chem­i­cal and plas­tics indus­tries. Since the 1960s, the com­pa­ny, under the direc­tion of the Koo fam­i­ly, has heav­i­ly invest­ed in the devel­op­ment of con­sumer elec­tron­ics, telecom­mu­ni­ca­tions net­works, and pow­er gen­er­a­tion, as well as its chem­i­cal busi­ness, which includes cos­met­ics and house­hold goods. In 2005, LG split, spin­ning off a sep­a­rate enti­ty called GS, a chae­bol whose core busi­ness­es are in ener­gy, retail, sports, and con­struc­tion.

Lotte. Shin Kyuk-ho found­ed Lotte Group in Tokyo in 1948 and brought the chew­ing gum com­pa­ny to South Korea in 1967. The conglomerate’s main busi­ness­es are con­cen­trat­ed in food prod­ucts, dis­count and depart­ment stores, hotels, and theme parks and enter­tain­ment, as well as finance, con­struc­tion, ener­gy, and elec­tron­ics. Lotte Con­fec­tionery is the third-largest gum man­u­fac­tur­er in the world. In 2017, the com­pa­ny opened the Lotte World Tow­er in Seoul, the tallest build­ing in South Korea, with 123 sto­ries. . . .

3b.“What to Know About the Chae­bol Fam­i­lies That Dom­i­nate South Korea’s Econ­o­my” by Vic­to­ria Kim and Daisuke Wak­abayashi; The New York Times; 12/18/2023.

Con­glom­er­ates that sprawl across the soci­ety trace their roots to the nation’s rise into a world pow­er and have been tight­ly con­trolled for gen­er­a­tions.

For decades, South Korea’s econ­o­my has been dom­i­nat­ed by a hand­ful of fam­i­ly-run con­glom­er­ates that hold out­size wealth and influ­ence and fac­tor into near­ly every aspect of life in the coun­try.

Because of their polit­i­cal heft, the chae­bol, as these fam­i­lies are known, have long been a mat­ter of immense pub­lic inter­est. The mar­riages, deaths, estrange­ments and legal trou­bles of these fam­i­lies are chron­i­cled in the South Kore­an press. Fic­tion­al chae­bol fam­i­lies have been depict­ed in Kore­an dra­mas. The Lee fam­i­ly of Sam­sung, the Koos of LG, the Cheys of SK, the Shins of Lotte and the Chungs of Hyundai are house­hold names that have tight­ly held the reins of the com­pa­nies that are some of the country’s largest pri­vate sec­tor employ­ers.

Their pow­er has been increas­ing­ly scru­ti­nized — both inside and out­side South Korea — as an eco­nom­ic vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty, deep­en­ing inequal­i­ties and fos­ter­ing cor­rup­tion.

Chae­bol fam­i­lies have con­trolled South Korea’s biggest com­pa­nies for gen­er­a­tions.

The chae­bol sys­tem is a lega­cy of South Korea’s his­to­ry. After an armistice end­ed the Kore­an War in 1953, the country’s mil­i­tary dic­ta­tors anoint­ed a hand­ful of fam­i­lies for spe­cial loans and finan­cial sup­port to rebuild the econ­o­my. The com­pa­nies expand­ed quick­ly and moved from indus­try to indus­try until they mor­phed into sprawl­ing con­glom­er­ates.

ven as the com­pa­nies grew in size, wealth and influ­ence, and sold shares on stock exchanges, they remained under fam­i­ly con­trol — typ­i­cal­ly run by a chair­man who also presided as head of the fam­i­ly. Gen­er­a­tional lead­er­ship changes have some­times unset­tled chae­bol fam­i­lies, forc­ing com­pa­nies to split or spin off into small­er groups.

More than two decades ago, dur­ing a fam­i­ly strug­gle, Hyundai was divid­ed among the founder’s six sons. The eldest son took con­trol of Hyundai Motor, now one of South Korea’s biggest com­pa­nies. Under Chung Eui-sun, the founder’s grand­son, the fam­i­ly is still in charge of the glob­al automak­er.

These con­glom­er­ates make up a siz­able por­tion of South Korea’s econ­o­my.

South Korea’s rapid rise from post­war pover­ty to a major devel­oped econ­o­my in a cou­ple of decades was close­ly tied to the rise of chae­bol com­pa­nies. Their ear­ly suc­cess­es boost­ed wages and liv­ing stan­dards, and drove the country’s exports.

The total sales of the five largest con­glom­er­ates have con­sis­tent­ly made up more than half of South Korea’s gross domes­tic prod­uct in the past 15 years, top­ping 70 per­cent in 2012, accord­ing to the book “Repub­lic of Chae­bol” by the econ­o­mist Park Sang-in. Their busi­ness­es also per­me­ate South Kore­an life — from hos­pi­tals to life insur­ance, from apart­ment com­plex­es to cred­it cards and retail, from food to enter­tain­ment and media, not to men­tion elec­tron­ics.

Chae­bol fam­i­lies have had cozy rela­tion­ships with the polit­i­cal lead­er­ship.

Patron­age from polit­i­cal lead­ers was cru­cial to the chae­bol com­pa­nies’ growth into indus­tri­al con­glom­er­ates, par­tic­u­lar­ly under the regime of Park Chung-hee, who came to pow­er in a coup and ran the coun­try for two decades until his assas­si­na­tion in 1979. For Mr. Park, the chae­bol were an instru­men­tal part of his ambi­tion to enrich and indus­tri­al­ize South Korea. To that end, his gov­ern­ment steered funds to com­pa­nies that were coop­er­a­tive with his agen­da, pro­tect­ed them from com­pe­ti­tion and spared them of pub­lic account­abil­i­ty.

While the close ties between the gov­ern­ment and the busi­ness­es have less­ened in recent decades, polit­i­cal lead­ers still fre­quent­ly turn to them for sup­port or coun­sel. In turn, the com­pa­nies have at times been shield­ed as being too vital to the econ­o­my to be bro­ken up or scru­ti­nized — some­thing crit­ics have assailed as a “too big to jail” prob­lem.

This sum­mer, chae­bol heads trav­eled with the South Kore­an pres­i­dent, Yoon Suk Yeol, on a trip to Europe as part of South Korea’s bid for the World Expo. They also accom­pa­nied him on his vis­it to the Unit­ed States to meet with Pres­i­dent Biden and were among the guests at a White House state din­ner.

Sev­er­al scan­dals have tar­nished their pub­lic image.

Chae­bol com­pa­nies have become enmeshed in polit­i­cal cor­rup­tion cas­es.

One of South Korea’s biggest polit­i­cal scan­dals in recent years demon­strat­ed the close ties between the polit­i­cal lead­ers and the fam­i­ly-run con­glom­er­ates.

Park Geun-hye, the country’s for­mer pres­i­dent, was oust­ed from office in 2017 and lat­er sen­tenced to prison after she was con­vict­ed of bribery, abuse of pow­er and oth­er crim­i­nal charges. Ms. Park and a long­time con­fi­dante were found to have col­lect­ed or demand­ed bribes from three chae­bol con­glom­er­ates: Sam­sung, SK and Lotte. Ms. Park was par­doned in 2021 after serv­ing almost five years of a 20-year prison sen­tence.

Lee Jae-yong, chair­man of Sam­sung Elec­tron­ics, the country’s biggest chae­bol, was also sen­tenced to two-and-a-half years in prison for his role. He was paroled and lat­er par­doned by Pres­i­dent Yoon in 2022, a move that allowed him to return to run­ning the com­pa­ny.

3c.“The ene­my with­in: shad­ow of Japan­ese past hangs over S. Korea” [AFP]; france24.com; 03/07/2019.

. . . . Some of the South’s biggest con­glom­er­ates were found­ed dur­ing the colo­nial peri­od. High-pro­file exec­u­tives, includ­ing Hyundai Group’s chair­woman Hyun Jeong-eun, have sued to remove ances­tors’ names from the col­lab­o­ra­tors list. . . .

4a.“South Kore­an plan aims to heal forced labor feud with Japan” By KIM TONG-HYUNG and HYUNG-JIN KIM; Asso­ci­at­ed Press; 06/03/2023.

South Korea took a step toward improv­ing ties with its tra­di­tion­al rival Japan on Mon­day, announc­ing a plan to com­pen­sate Kore­ans who per­formed forced labor dur­ing Tokyo’s colo­nial rule that doesn’t require Japan­ese com­pa­nies to con­tribute to the repa­ra­tions.

The plan reflects con­ser­v­a­tive Pres­i­dent Yoon Suk Yeol’s push to mend frayed ties with Japan and solid­i­fy secu­ri­ty coop­er­a­tion among Seoul, Tokyo and Wash­ing­ton to bet­ter cope with North Korea’s nuclear threats. Pres­i­dent Joe Biden quick­ly hailed it as “a ground­break­ing new chap­ter” of coop­er­a­tion between two of the Unit­ed States’ clos­est allies.

The South Kore­an plan, which relies on mon­ey raised in South Korea, drew imme­di­ate, domes­tic back­lash from for­mer forced labor­ers and their sup­port­ers. They’ve demand­ed direct com­pen­sa­tion from the Japan­ese com­pa­nies and a fresh apol­o­gy from the Japan­ese gov­ern­ment.

Many forced labor­ers are already dead and sur­vivors are in their 90s. Among the 15 vic­tims involved in 2018 South Kore­an court rul­ings that ordered two Japan­ese com­pa­nies — Nip­pon Steel and Mit­subishi Heavy Indus­tries — to com­pen­sate them, only three are still alive and they are all in their 90s.

South Kore­an For­eign Min­is­ter Park Jin told a tele­vised news con­fer­ence the vic­tims would be com­pen­sat­ed through a local state-run foun­da­tion that would be fund­ed by civil­ian dona­tions. He said South Korea hopes that Japan­ese com­pa­nies would also make vol­un­tary con­tri­bu­tions to the foun­da­tion.

“If we com­pare it to a glass of water, I think that the glass is more than half full with water. We expect that the glass will be fur­ther filled mov­ing for­ward based on Japan’s sin­cere response,” Park said.

Lat­er Mon­day, Yoon called the South Kore­an step “a deter­mi­na­tion to move toward future-ori­ent­ed Korea-Japan ties.” He said both gov­ern­ments must strive to help their rela­tions enter a new era, accord­ing to Yoon’s office.

South Kore­an offi­cials didn’t elab­o­rate on which com­pa­nies would finance the foun­da­tion. But in Jan­u­ary, Shim Kyu-sun, chair­per­son of the Foun­da­tion for Vic­tims of Forced Mobi­liza­tion by Impe­r­i­al Japan, which would be han­dling the repa­ra­tions, said the funds would come from South Kore­an com­pa­nies that ben­e­fit­ed from a 1965 Seoul-Tokyo treaty that nor­mal­ized their rela­tions.

The 1965 accord was accom­pa­nied by hun­dreds of mil­lions of dol­lars in eco­nom­ic aid and loans from Tokyo to Seoul that were used in devel­op­ment projects car­ried out by major South Kore­an com­pa­nies, includ­ing POSCO, now a glob­al steel giant. POSCO said Mon­day that it will active­ly con­sid­er a con­tri­bu­tion to the foun­da­tion if it receives an offi­cial request.

Japan insists all wartime com­pen­sa­tion issues were set­tled under the 1965 treaty, and retal­i­at­ed for the South Kore­an court-ordered com­pen­sa­tion from the Japan­ese com­pa­nies by slap­ping export con­trols on chem­i­cals vital to South Korea’s semi­con­duc­tor indus­try in 2019.

South Korea, then gov­erned by Yoon’s lib­er­al pre­de­ces­sor Moon Jae-in, accused Japan of weaponiz­ing trade and sub­se­quent­ly threat­ened to ter­mi­nate a mil­i­tary intel­li­gence-shar­ing agree­ment with Tokyo, a major sym­bol of their three-way secu­ri­ty coop­er­a­tion with Wash­ing­ton.

Their feud­ing com­pli­cat­ed U.S. efforts to rein­force coop­er­a­tion with its two key Asian allies in the face of con­fronta­tions with Chi­na and North Korea. In his state­ment, Biden said that he looks for­ward to con­tin­u­ing to enhance the tri­lat­er­al ties, adding, “Our coun­tries are stronger — and the world is safer and more pros­per­ous — when we stand togeth­er.”

On Mon­day, the U.S. flew a nuclear-capa­ble B‑52 bomber to the Kore­an Penin­su­la for a joint drill with South Kore­an war­planes. South Korea’s Defense Min­istry said in a state­ment the B‑52’s deploy­ment demon­strat­ed the allies’ “deci­sive, over­whelm­ing capac­i­ties” to deter North Kore­an aggres­sions.

Dur­ing a par­lia­men­tary ses­sion on Mon­day, Japan­ese Prime Min­is­ter Fumio Kishi­da said he stands by Japan’s pre­vi­ous expres­sion of regrets and apolo­gies over its colo­nial wrong­do­ing but said that the restora­tion of trade ties is a sep­a­rate issue.

Japan­ese For­eign Min­is­ter Yoshi­masa Hayashi told reporters that Japan “appre­ci­ates” the South Kore­an announce­ment as a step to restore good ties, but not­ed that it doesn’t require con­tri­bu­tions from the Japan­ese com­pa­nies.

When asked about South Korea’s fail­ure to ensure that the Japan­ese com­pa­nies par­tic­i­pate in the com­pen­sa­tion of forced labor­ers, Park, the for­eign min­is­ter, said he doesn’t expect Japan’s gov­ern­ment to block “vol­un­tary dona­tions” by its civ­il sec­tor.

Lat­er Mon­day, the South Kore­an and Japan­ese trade min­istries simul­ta­ne­ous­ly announced plans for talks to restore their trade rela­tions. South Korea’s Trade Min­istry said it decid­ed to sus­pend its dis­pute pro­ceed­ings with the World Trade Orga­ni­za­tion over the Japan­ese trade curbs.

For­mer forced labor­ers, their sup­port­ers and lib­er­al oppo­si­tion law­mak­ers berat­ed the gov­ern­ment plan, call­ing it a diplo­mat­ic sur­ren­der. About 20–30 activists ral­lied near Seoul’s For­eign Min­istry, blow­ing horns and shout­ing slo­gans, “We con­demn (the Yoon gov­ern­ment)” and “With­draw (the announce­ment).”

Lim Jae-sung, a lawyer for some of the plain­tiffs, called the South Kore­an plan an “absolute win by Japan, which insists it can­not spend 1 yen” on forced labor­ers. He said lawyers will press ahead with steps aimed at liq­ui­dat­ing the Japan­ese com­pa­nies’ assets in South Korea to secure the repa­ra­tions.

The main lib­er­al oppo­si­tion Demo­c­ra­t­ic Par­ty called on Yoon to imme­di­ate­ly stop what it called “a humil­i­at­ing diplo­ma­cy” toward Japan and with­draw its plan.

The oppo­si­tion to the government’s announce­ment cast doubts on the prospects to end the dis­putes. When the Demo­c­ra­t­ic Par­ty led by Moon was in pow­er, it took steps to dis­solve a foun­da­tion fund­ed by Japan to com­pen­sate Kore­an women forced to work as sex slaves dur­ing World War II because it didn’t have the vic­tims’ con­sent.

Despite the back­lash, Yoon has like­ly decid­ed to press ahead with steps to ease the dis­putes with Japan to bol­ster the alliance with the Unit­ed States because “there is no mag­ic solu­tion that can sat­is­fy every­one,” said Bong Young-shik, an expert at Seoul’s Yon­sei Insti­tute for North Kore­an Stud­ies. He said Yoon like­ly felt pres­sure to boost defense against North Korea’s advanc­ing mis­sile threats.

Choi Eun-mi, a Japan expert at South Korea’s Asan Insti­tute for Pol­i­cy Stud­ies, said it has been obvi­ous that a third-par­ty reim­burse­ment of forced labor­ers was the only real­is­tic solu­tion for South Korea because there are “fun­da­men­tal” dis­agree­ments with Japan over the 2018 court rul­ings.

4b. “South Korea fund lacks mon­ey to com­pen­sate wartime labor vic­tims: report;” Kyo­do News; 05/27/2024.

A South Kore­an gov­ern­ment-backed foun­da­tion tasked with pay­ing com­pen­sa­tion to plain­tiffs who won law­suits over wartime labor dur­ing Japan’s colo­nial rule of the Kore­an Penin­su­la is short some 12 bil­lion won ($8.8 mil­lion) in pay­ing dam­ages to the plain­tiffs, the foundation’s chief said Mon­day.

Shim Kyu Sun, direc­tor of the foun­da­tion, told Joon­gAng Ilbo, a South Kore­an news­pa­per, that he hopes the Japan­ese busi­ness sec­tor will con­tribute to the group so it can pay dam­ages to plain­tiffs, includ­ing those who won their law­suits recent­ly.

In March last year, the gov­ern­ment of South Kore­an Pres­i­dent Yoon Suk Yeol decid­ed to com­pen­sate the plain­tiffs and bereaved fam­i­ly mem­bers with mon­ey from the gov­ern­ment-backed fund, rather than seek­ing resti­tu­tion direct­ly from the Japan­ese com­pa­nies that were sued, in a bid to improve ties with Japan.

Due to the 12 bil­lion won short­fall, com­pen­sa­tion pay­ment by the Foun­da­tion for Vic­tims of Forced Mobi­liza­tion by Impe­r­i­al Japan is now “at a cross­roads,” Shim said.

“The solu­tion (of com­pen­sat­ing through the foun­da­tion) would gain the sup­port from the South Kore­an pub­lic only if Japan­ese busi­ness­es par­tic­i­pate in” the fund­ing, Shim said, while also request­ing fur­ther dona­tions from South Kore­an com­pa­nies.

The foun­da­tion has received 4 bil­lion won from South Kore­an steel­mak­er POSCO Co.

Ties between Seoul and Tokyo dete­ri­o­rat­ed after South Korea’s top court in Octo­ber and Novem­ber 2018 upheld orders in sep­a­rate judg­ments against Nip­pon Steel Corp. and Mit­subishi Heavy Indus­tries Ltd., requir­ing that they pay dam­ages for forced labor dur­ing the colo­nial rule between 1910 and 1945.

The top court in Decem­ber last year and Jan­u­ary this year made sim­i­lar rul­ings, order­ing sev­er­al Japan­ese com­pa­nies, includ­ing Nip­pon Steel and Mit­subishi Heavy, to pay dam­ages to South Kore­an plain­tiffs.

5.“On ‘Erad­i­cat­ing the Ves­tiges of Pro-Japan­ese Col­lab­o­ra­tors’” By: Nak-chung Paik; Asia-Pacif­ic Jour­nal; 01/11/2021.

. . . . Join­ing hands with for­mer col­lab­o­ra­tors, Rhee Syn­g­man announced that the most press­ing issues of the post-lib­er­a­tion era would be anti-com­mu­nism and the estab­lish­ment of a sep­a­rate gov­ern­ment in the South. . . . the colo­nial Japan­ese gov­ern­ment col­lec­tive­ly stig­ma­tized all Kore­an resis­tance fight­ers as “com­mies,” regard­less of their actu­al polit­i­cal affil­i­a­tions, there­by ini­ti­at­ing a prac­tice that con­tin­ues to rip­ple through many of Korea’s present-day social issues. Through the post-lib­er­a­tion years and the Kore­an War (1950–1953), the act of label­ing some­one a “com­mie” evolved from a tool for cov­er­ing up one’s for­mer pro-Japan­ese activ­i­ties into a ubiq­ui­tous polit­i­cal weapon that was active­ly used to remove any­one who was crit­i­cal of Rhee’s gov­ern­ment and the estab­lish­ment. In the six decades of divi­sion since the Kore­an War end­ed in a “cease-fire,” the asso­ci­a­tion between Japan­ese col­lab­o­ra­tors and the anti-com­mu­nist move­ment has become entan­gled with var­i­ous oth­er ele­ments, fuel­ing the rise of pow­er­ful and com­plex forces that con­tin­ue to sub­sist off the divi­sion sys­tem. . . .

. . . . As men­tioned, imme­di­ate­ly after Korea’s lib­er­a­tion in 1945, col­lab­o­ra­tors who had reaped the ben­e­fits of pro-Japan­ese activ­i­ties dur­ing the colo­nial peri­od took cov­er under the ban­ner of anti-com­mu­nist and pro-Amer­i­can caus­es. Since then, the ves­tiges of Japan­ese colo­nial rule have used var­i­ous oth­er osten­si­ble caus­es (e.g., lib­er­al democ­ra­cy, region­al rival­ry, Chris­t­ian val­ues) to sim­i­lar effect, thus cement­ing their sta­tus as a cor­ner­stone uphold­ing the sys­tem of the North-South divi­sion. . . . .

6.“South Kore­an Pro­test­ers Thwart­ed More Than Just a Coup Attempt” by John Carl Bak­er; The Nation; 12/04/2024.

. . . . In an August 2023 speech—a few days before he vis­it­ed Camp David—Yoon warned of a fifth col­umn of “anti-state forces” work­ing to destroy South Korea from the inside out. “The forces of com­mu­nist total­i­tar­i­an­ism,” he declared, “have always dis­guised them­selves as democ­ra­cy activists, human rights advo­cates, or pro­gres­sive activists while engag­ing in despi­ca­ble and uneth­i­cal tac­tics and false pro­pa­gan­da.” Yoon sim­i­lar­ly cit­ed the threat posed by “anti-state ele­ments” and North Korea sym­pa­thiz­ers when he announced the impo­si­tion of mar­tial law. . . .

7. “Was South Korea’s coup an attempt to restart the Kore­an War?” by Ju-Hyun Park; Peo­ples Dis­patch; 12/13/2024.

Oppo­si­tion law­mak­ers are alleg­ing the full scope of Pres­i­dent Yoon’s coup involved a months-long plot to trig­ger a “lim­it­ed war” with North Korea

As South Korea’s polit­i­cal cri­sis con­tin­ues fol­low­ing Pres­i­dent Yoon’s failed attempt to declare mar­tial law on Decem­ber 3, new details are emerg­ing in the country’s leg­is­la­ture that sug­gest the full scope of Yoon’s coup plot may have includ­ed plans to trig­ger a “lim­it­ed war” with North Korea. Plan­ning doc­u­ments cir­cu­lat­ed among accom­plices pri­or to the mar­tial law order also demon­strate that Yoon and for­mer Defense Min­is­ter Kim Yong-hyun looked to past mar­tial law orders as prece­dents, includ­ing those issued pri­or to the Gwangju Mas­sacre and the Jeju Mas­sacre.

A pos­si­ble time­line of how Yoon’s coup plans inter­act­ed with esca­la­tions against North Korea has begun to emerge. Yoon’s tenure in office has been char­ac­ter­ized by unbri­dled aggres­sion against Pyongyang, and a cozy mil­i­tary rela­tion­ship with Wash­ing­ton and Tokyo that sent ten­sions soar­ing through­out North­east Asia. It is now known that Yoon’s coup plans began in July of 2023.

Upon com­ing into office in 2022, Yoon adopt­ed a mil­i­tary pol­i­cy towards North Korea known as the Kill Chain Doc­trine, which advo­cates the use of pre­emp­tive strikes in the event of sus­pect­ed attacks. Over the next two years, the rate and mag­ni­tude of joint mil­i­tary exer­cis­es with the US explod­ed; over 200 days of US-ROK war games were held in Korea in 2023, and in August of this year the two coun­tries held their first joint nuclear table­top exer­cise to rehearse plans for a nuclear strike on the penin­su­la. Con­se­quent­ly, inter-Kore­an rela­tions have entered a his­toric nadir. In Decem­ber 2023, North Korea took the unprece­dent­ed step of renounc­ing its pol­i­cy of peace­ful reuni­fi­ca­tion.

From garbage war to “lim­it­ed war”

Fol­low­ing this his­toric falling out between the two Kore­an gov­ern­ments, ten­sions spiked along the de fac­to land and sea bor­ders of the divid­ed penin­su­la. One of the more icon­ic signs of the dete­ri­o­rat­ing rela­tion­ship have come in the form of garbage-laden bal­loons land­ing in South Korea from the north. For decades, Pyongyang tol­er­at­ed US-fund­ed NGOs in the south send­ing pro­pa­gan­da bal­loons across the DMZ. The fleets of garbage bal­loons that North Korea began to fly south this spring marked an end to this pol­i­cy of patience.

In Seoul, the garbage bal­loons trig­gered a series of esca­la­to­ry actions over the course of the sum­mer. But in Octo­ber, a new line was crossed. For the first time, North Korea report­ed a series of drone incur­sions into its territory—an alle­ga­tion which South Korea’s Defense Min­istry stat­ed it could not con­firm at the time. The inci­dent led to Pyongyang det­o­nat­ing roads and bridges at the DMZ in an attempt to fore­stall poten­tial inva­sion. Now, law­mak­ers are alleg­ing the drone incur­sion may have been part of a months-long effort to trig­ger a mil­i­tary response from North Korea that would end in a “lim­it­ed war.”

On Sun­day, Decem­ber 8, a mil­i­tary con­tain­er used to house drones and launch­ers caught fire. The next day, Demo­c­ra­t­ic Par­ty law­mak­er Park Beom-gye announced he had received a tip from a mil­i­tary whistle­blow­er alleg­ing South Korea’s armed forces were respon­si­ble for the drone incur­sion in Octo­ber. On Decem­ber 10, Kim Yong-dae, head of Drone Oper­a­tions Com­mand, sub­mit­ted to ques­tion­ing by par­lia­ment. He explained to law­mak­er Kim Byung-joo that the fire was caused by a short cir­cuit. How­ev­er, when Kim Byung-joo inquired who ordered Drone Oper­a­tions Com­mand to send a drone to Pyongyang, Kim Yong-dae replied, “I can­not con­firm that.” Kim Yong-dae pro­vid­ed an iden­ti­cal answer to the lawmaker’s fol­low-up ques­tion inquir­ing where the drones had been launched from. This prompt­ed Kim Byung-Joo to accuse the mil­i­tary of set­ting the fire in order to destroy evi­dence of the drone incur­sion.

Sus­pi­cions of a plot to restart the Kore­an War have also been raised by law­mak­er Lee Ki-heon, who report­ed on Decem­ber 7 to the Nation­al Assem­bly that for­mer Defense Min­is­ter Kim Yong-hyun attempt­ed to order a direct strike on North Korea in order to “hit the ori­gin of the garbage bal­loons” on Novem­ber 28, just a week pri­or to the coup attempt on Decem­ber 3. The Joint Chiefs of Staff have denied such an order was giv­en, and reit­er­at­ed the military’s posi­tion that a strike in retal­i­a­tion for the garbage bal­loons would only be autho­rized in the event that they caused injury or death.

Mean­while, cor­rec­tion­al offi­cials report­ed that Defense Min­is­ter Kim, who was detained on Sun­day, Decem­ber 8 , attempt­ed sui­cide in cus­tody on the evening of Decem­ber 10. He is in sta­ble con­di­tion and remains in deten­tion await­ing an expect­ed indict­ment.

While law­mak­ers allege that Yoon’s objec­tive was to foment a “lim­it­ed war,” any attack by either Kore­an gov­ern­ment on each other’s de fac­to ter­ri­to­ry could rapid­ly esca­late to a con­flict involv­ing the US, Rus­sia, and Chi­na. All three of these coun­tries have strate­gic mil­i­tary agree­ments on the penin­su­la.

A mas­sacre in the mak­ing?

Oth­er emerg­ing details have demon­strat­ed pre­med­i­tat­ed plans for repres­sion in Yoon’s coup. Law­mak­er Choo Mi-ae has cir­cu­lat­ed plan­ning doc­u­ments from the mar­tial law order that ref­er­ence the infa­mous mas­sacres that put down pop­u­lar upris­ings in Jeju and Gwangju.

From 1948 to 1949, South Kore­an sol­diers, police, and para­mil­i­taries slaugh­tered between 30,000 and 60,000 peo­ple in Jeju, and burned 70% of the island’s vil­lages as part of a scorched earth cam­paign con­duct­ed in response to a local armed insur­gency against US occu­pa­tion, and the impend­ing 1948 elec­tion to estab­lish the Repub­lic of Korea, which was opposed by a major­i­ty of Kore­ans at the time. The coun­terin­sur­gency war in Jeju was pros­e­cut­ed with the knowl­edge, sup­port, and over­sight of the US mil­i­tary.

In Gwangju, para­troop­ers act­ing under the orders of then-dic­ta­tor Chun Doo Hwan killed up to 2,000 res­i­dents of the city, and engaged in a cam­paign of mass tor­ture and rape. The inci­dent occurred after Chun’s dec­la­ra­tion of mar­tial law on May 17, 1980, prompt­ing stu­dents and work­ers in the city to rebel against the mil­i­tary and estab­lish a people’s gov­ern­ment that last­ed for 9 days and resem­bled the Paris Com­mune. Once again, US sup­port and fore­knowl­edge was crit­i­cal to enabling the mas­sacre. Pres­i­dent Jim­my Carter direct­ed the Pen­ta­gon to assist Chun; South Kore­an para­troop­ers were per­mit­ted to be trans­ferred from the DMZ, and an air­craft car­ri­er and recon­nais­sance planes were deployed to the area.

Evi­dence of Yoon’s plans for repres­sion go beyond his­tor­i­cal cita­tion. Choo Mi-ae has fur­ther revealed plans to secure hos­pi­tals in the ear­ly phas­es of the mar­tial law order, a sign that she claims indi­cates prepa­ra­tions for acts of mass vio­lence. Sev­er­al high-rank­ing mil­i­tary and police offi­cials have attest­ed to receiv­ing per­son­al orders from Pres­i­dent Yoon to arrest key polit­i­cal fig­ures, includ­ing oppo­si­tion leader Lee Jae Myung. In an exclu­sive inter­view with JTBC News, a Spe­cial Forces Offi­cer revealed that sec­ond-day plans for the mar­tial law order includ­ed the deploy­ment of South Korea’s 7th and 13th Air­borne Brigades to Seoul.

Alle­ga­tions of a wider war plot

Fur­ther tes­ti­mo­ny at the Nation­al Assem­bly sug­gests a grander plan for war than the “lim­it­ed war” the­o­ry out­lined above.

Cit­ing anony­mous mil­i­tary sources, law­mak­er Kim Byung-joo, a for­mer four-star gen­er­al, Kim told fel­low law­mak­ers on Decem­ber 10 that 20 mem­bers of the Spe­cial Forces’ Head­quar­ters Intel­li­gence Detach­ment (HID) unit “were on stand­by at a loca­tion in Seoul” on the night of the mar­tial law order. Kim claims the HID unit would have been mobi­lized to the Nation­al Assem­bly to arrest law­mak­ers, and ques­tions whether they would have killed those who resist­ed, pos­si­bly while wear­ing fake North Kore­an uni­forms. The HID unit is nor­mal­ly deployed to the DMZ and is tasked with oper­a­tions in North Korea, includ­ing sab­o­tage, kid­nap­pings, and assas­si­na­tions. Kim has also said that the HID unit’s sec­ond-day orders were to cause dis­tur­bances at the Nation­al Elec­tion Com­mis­sion, say­ing, “they were not a sim­ple arrest team.” Kim is call­ing for fur­ther inves­ti­ga­tion.

On Decem­ber 13, influ­en­tial inde­pen­dent jour­nal­ist Kim Eo-jun appeared before the Nation­al Assem­bly with a bomb­shell claim. Accord­ing to Kim, whose stu­dio was tar­get­ed by the mil­i­tary in the ear­ly hours of the coup attempt, a source from “the embassy of an allied coun­try” told him Yoon planned to assas­si­nate Han Dong-Hoon, the leader of the president’s rul­ing par­ty, on the night of the mar­tial law order.

Kim Eo-jun claimed Spe­cial Forces in North Kore­an uni­form were to act as an “assas­si­na­tion squad” under­tak­ing the fol­low­ing plot: “First, Han Dong-hoon is to be assas­si­nat­ed dur­ing trans­porta­tion after his arrest. Sec­ond, attack the arrest unit escort­ing Cho Kuk, Yang Jeong-che­ol and myself, pre­tend­ing to res­cue them. Third, North Kore­an mil­i­tary uni­forms will be buried at a spe­cif­ic loca­tion. Fourth, after some time, the uni­forms will be dis­cov­ered, and the inci­dent will be attrib­uted to North Korea.”

Cho Kuk is an anti-Yoon politi­cian who leads the minor­i­ty Rebuild­ing Korea Par­ty, and Yang Jeong-che­ol is an influ­en­tial for­mer aide of for­mer Pres­i­dent Moon Jae-in.

Kim Eo-jun also said he received tips that Yoon planned to “kill Amer­i­can sol­diers to induce the US to bomb North Korea,” and that a bio­chem­i­cal ter­ror attack had also been under con­sid­er­a­tion. Yoon would have there­by man­u­fac­tured a sit­u­a­tion from which he could emerge as the “reuni­fi­ca­tion pres­i­dent” who suc­cess­ful­ly end­ed Korea’s divi­sion by means of con­quest. . . .

. . . . Jour­nal­ist Kim fur­ther alleged that the First Lady, Kim Gun-hee, had also made con­tact with an OB (Old Boy, term for retired intel­li­gence agent). Though he could not con­firm the con­tent of the call, jour­nal­ist Kim raised the mat­ter before the Nation­al Assem­bly out of con­sid­er­a­tion “that her hus­band is the Com­man­der-in-Chief, so if there is even the slight­est pos­si­bil­i­ty these calls are relat­ed to dis­turb­ing pub­lic order, no risks should be tak­en.” Jour­nal­ist Kim called on the Nation­al Assem­bly to restrict the First Lady’s com­mu­ni­ca­tions.

The Demo­c­ra­t­ic Par­ty has vowed to inves­ti­gate fur­ther, while the rul­ing People’s Pow­er Par­ty floor leader Kwon Sung-dong dis­missed the tes­ti­mo­ny as “fake news.” The US Embassy in South Korea denied that it had pro­vid­ed infor­ma­tion to Kim Eo-jun, clar­i­fy­ing that US intel­li­gence would have been able to dis­tin­guish a false North Kore­an attack and noti­fied the South Kore­an gov­ern­ment. How­ev­er, this state­ment has only raised fur­ther sus­pi­cions against the US Embassy in some cir­cles due to its sim­i­lar­i­ty to a pro­nounce­ment made by Con­gress­man Brad Sher­man in an inter­view with the South Kore­an out­let MBC News the day before.

 

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