Chapter IIKOREA: THE FORMATIVE ELEMENTS
It simply cannot stand to reason that history is without meaning. Think how thousands upon thousands of lives have come and gone; how people have cried and laughed; held each other's hands or stabbed at each other; how they have pounded on their chests in frustration; how they have toiled and shed blood. This life, this history, is not something to take or leave depending on whether you like it. No, before you realize it you believe it has meaning. This belief is what sustains life.
What is the basic thrust of Korean history? To find out, we may explore three aspects-geography, national character, and divine intent, which cause the people to shape the history of their land. Location, terrain, coastline and climate all serve to give particular historical coloration. Koreans from Seoul differ from those from Pyongan-do; Chinese from the northern and southern parts are not culturally the same. The volatility and grace of southern Europeans may be accounted for by the Mediterranean climate; the seriousness of northern Europeans may be ascribed to the northern sea climate. Where Europe is divided among scores of countries, China and the United States each is united as one country. This is made possible by the terrain. The former British empire was a gift of he geographical position of England. To say that humanity is a product of the environment is true at least in part.
But geographic conditions alone do not determine the characteristics of history. The nature of a nation is something nearly constant, so that only a particular nation can produce that particular history. It is often said, quite accurately, that Greek art was largely a product of nature in the Greek peninsula. The art of its inhabitants before the arrival of the Greeks is distinctly different. While one may ascribe the Roman empire to its Mediterranean location on the Italian peninsula, Africans transplanted there would not have built the same kind of government. In sum, the characteristics of a people have an enduring effect regardless, to a degree, of geographic conditions.
The age of hero worship is gone. Yet individuals are a factor in history. The influence of Lenin and Stalin on Russia today is unquestioned, and the personality of Gandhi has had great bearing on what India is today. But it is the nation that has supported and commanded the individual. Individuals, particularly those with heroic caliber, who have contributed to events of worldwide significance, were representatives of a nation. Luther, a major leader of the Reformation, was not just an individual but arose from the German people. No admirer of Luther would believe that the Reformation was the work of Luther alone. The Reformation, seen religiously, was the work of the Holy Spirit; seen secularly, the work of a northern European nation. Jesus, reputed savior of all mankind, was of the Judaic race; no Judaea, and there could have been no Jesus. Ignoring the Judaic nation you cannot understand Jesus. Similarly, without Judaic history you cannot understand Christianity. To say this is not to deny the universality of Christianity, nor to restrict Jesus to being a national figure. I mean simply that no individual can stand apart from a particular national background.
Opposed to the individual heroic view of history, the class view is a theory subordinating man to economic relations in society. Economic relations are indeed a factor in historical change, but are neither the sole agent nor a principal one. Attempts to explain away affairs of human life in terms of conflicting interests clearly are dogma. A Socrates would be enough to shatter such dogma, the more so because Socrates did not exist only in Greece two thousand years ago but lives on in the mind of everyone. It is true that where classes confront each other, there is struggle, but, rather than from conflict of interest, it would be more reasonable to think that classes came about in primitive society from the practice of keeping prisoners of war alive to be used, instead of killing them off as had been done earlier. It is a matter of accommodation, not of struggle.
Furthermore, classes do not involve a permanent self-awareness. It is true that in history there has been confrontation between ruling and ruled classes. It is also true that members of a given class are concerned about the protection of their own class interests. But the class has changed its composition at all times. So in the abstract, class confrontation persists; in fact there is no such enduring consciousness. The ruling class today does not identify with that of the Three Kingdoms period.
That is not true in the case of a nation. When we read about some historic siege we feel ourselves inhabitants of that walled city. When we hear the story of General Im Kyong-op during the 1637 invasion by Ch'ing China, we find ourselves clenching our fists as if we had ourselves been the general. Class and nation are not on the same level. Class consciousness, based solely on class interests, ceases when the bond of interest ceases. National consciousness, on the other hand, affects the formation of individual character and does not as readily disappear.
It is not that the class view and the heroic view do not tell part of the truth. But analytical truth is not the whole truth. If one analyzes every peak and every ravine in the Diamond Mountains, one will find they are not substantively different from other mountains-all made of rocks and covered with trees-and yet the Diamond Mountains as a whole stand out in superior beauty. In the same way, heroes have played their roles in history and classes have had their functions but they have not been elements making up the whole of history. The nation does that. That's why we say the people and a nation have a common destiny. Significant activities, individual or group, invariably go down in history in the name of the nation. This is because a nation represents a whole; all can be preserved only by enshrining it before the altar of the whole. Moses was great indeed, but his work survived as a pride of the Judaic people. The Jacobins were cruel and brutal but the blemish was imputed to the French people. Zoroastrianism, uttered by Zarathustra, remains the essence of Persian culture. Greek philosophy, although a product of the Greek aristocracy, is the philosophy of all Greece.
Saying this may seem like extreme nationalism, but that is not the point. The age of nationalism is finished. However, one simply cannot know history without knowing nationalism. History is borne by a people, not by individuals or classes. Korean history has suffered intervention by the Han people, pillage by the Mongols, and a temporary intermixing with the Japanese, but Korean history is not a common property shared with the Hans, the Mongols or the Japanese. Confucianism has been accepted, so have Buddhism and Christianity, but that has not caused any change in the fact that the Koreans are Korean. The responsibility for their history ultimately rests with the Korean people, quite apart from whether they did the right thing or not at a given time, and regardless of who were more responsible for this or that event, the Koreans or some other participants. One should not forget this. Let me stress what Mazzini of Italy said: "God wrote a line of his intent on the cradle of each nation"
In the determining of the keynote of history, geography and population are important conditions. But more determinant than these, is a third condition, God's will. What did Providence choose for a keynote in Korean history? How is the keynote revealed in its geography, national temperament and vicissitudes of history? Detailed discussion will follow shortly; here I give only the gist. As I do so, I find myself hesitant, because I am about to set foot on territory where none has trodden. One well equipped with tools of research and investigation and with talent and perception would enjoy the pleasure and pride reserved for a pioneer about to blaze a trail into a territory hitherto unexplored. As it is, I cannot help feeling that I may be accused of being foolhardy and arrogant, that God may punish me for sacrilege. Unfortunate is one who has no mentor. I lose heart even more to think that Korea has to turn to me for the job of blazing a trail into the virgin soil. Wretched as I am without the comfort of a teacher, I find the plight of Korea yet more to be pitied.
There is yet another thing that deters me. The conclusions I have come to after a great deal of thinking are horrendously pathetic. If the gift I present were something splendid, I would not hesitate, forgetting my own inadequacy. Alas, when I bring forward my conclusions, everyone may be sadly disappointed. They might even respond with ridicule and vituperation. The mere thought makes my hands tremble. Yet something inside drives me on. It is the same spirit that drove Jeremiah and Hosea and Jonah. Should someone ask me for my reasons, my answer would be that I don't know the reasons myself. All I can say is just that I found something dawning on my mental horizon. I will avow what I was told to avow: the history of Korea is a history of suffering.
This land, this people, events big and small, its politics and religion, its art and thought-au that is Korean bespeaks suffering. It is a fact, however shameful and painful. When I began teaching history in middle school years ago, I sought ways to inspire in my students a sense of the glorious history of the fatherland. It was no use, even though I loudly called out heroic names I had heard as a child, such as the famous generals Ulchi Mundok and Kang Kam-ch'an. My voice, as it turned out, was too feeble for the loud groaning of a history of suffering.
In the first place, ours is not a major nation. Never has Korea played a leading role on the world stage. Nor are there historic relics of vast dimensions comparable to the pyramids or the Great Wall, no great inventions of worldwide significance. Personalities there have been, but none sufficiently instrumental to effect great change in world history. No Korean thought has even remotely measured up to setting a trend in world philosophy. Korean history is one of oppression and shame, tearing apart and splitting up, losing and lagging behind. Each nation of the world has its gift to bring to God. All Korea has is poverty and suffering. The thought turns everything black before my eyes.
Amid such agony, the Bible pointed me to the truth, and it was faith that came to my rescue: this suffering is none other than the crown of thorns Korea wears. It turned history inside out and showed me the hid- den side of world history. When I realized that the path of world history along which humankind is going is basically one of suffering, Korea, which I had thought a maltreated slave, was in fact a queen with her thor- ny crown. Now like Mazzini, we can declare that her work is yet to be.
Contributing significantly to the fate of Korea, as earlier noted, are the location of the country and the character of its people. These must now be examined at greater depth.
Korea is located on the eastern shore of Asia in the northern temperate zone, a good location. The temperate zone has been the best one for civilization to develop in. Civilized countries are, on the whole, in the northern temperate zone. Within Asia, the eastern seaboard is best suited for the development of humanity because of ease of communication; Korea is in the middle of it. In this respect, Korea's location is enviable and gives little cause for suffering. However, lying as it does between the Asian continent and the Japanese archipelago, the Korean peninsula provides a passageway. One advantage of such a location is that it facilitates the import and spread of culture. The disadvantage is susceptibility to foreign invasion and difficulty of preserving independence. Some claim contemptuously that Korea has never been a really independent nation. Although that may not have been the case, Korea's entire history is one of continuous invasion and plunder. One may rightfully say that its location is responsible for at least half of its misfortunes.
A look at the map will show that the Korean peninsula is encircled on three sides by three powers bearing down on it-China on the west, Manchuria on the north and Japan on the east. Held by an aggressive, dynamic ruler, the location would provide a center from which waves of fear could spread out; it would be a command post, a ruling metropolis. Greece and Italy were earlier cases in point. But in the hands of the less aggressive, such a location will be an alley of suffering into which one will be driven. Such, unfortunately, has been our lot.
Take another look at the map. Around the edge of China there are weak spots. There is the route to Inner Mongolia to the north, the one leading to T'ien Shan mountain to the west, the route toward Vietnam to the south; in the east there is the sea route from the Shantung peninsula to the Korean peninsula and another entering Manchuria across Shanhaikuan via Liaotung. Every time cultural dynamics reached a critical point in the land of China, its force burst forth along these routes. This pattern has repeated itself down through history. Thus, when the Han people gained ascendancy, we Koreans could never escape invasion from China, from the time of Puyo down to the Yi period.
In Manchuria, a number of warlike tribes roamed about from times of old. Each tribe that rose to power never faided to march southward. It is only recently that Manchuria has been called a granary, thanks to the development of tools. In the days before the arrival of culture, Manchuria was a hostile region, bitterly cold and infested with wild beasts. It was convenient for brigands to stalk but no place to settle down. Small wonder that anyone seizing power in Manchuria would yearn for warmth and a clear sky and move in search of such a place in the south. It was presumably for this very reason that Taegun had come south; so also in the cases of the khitan (Korean: Koran),3 Chin, Yuan and Ching dynasties. Their goal was not just to seize a little peninsula. They coveted the central plain of China. They dreamed of holding sway over the entire known world. Politically as well as strategically, one could not enter China proper while bypassing the peninsula. Korea had to bear the brunt of the marching hordes. In our own days, the Russian empire fought Japan with the idea of capturing Korea, the pivotal point, to place all of eastern Asia under its rule. Since Korea is the base of operations in the scheme of communizing eastern Asia, Stalin himself insisted on establishing the 38th parallel which divided Korea in two, holding on to the communist northern half.
Turning now to Japan, although incomparably smaller than China and Manchuria, it is a country of a few islands and is somewhat larger than Korea. In ancient times, when these islands were sparsely populated, people from Korea migrated to them with enthusiasm. Being islands, they afforded no room for further expansion and when the culture had developed to a certain level, it was natural that a reverse wave made its way toward the continent. The Japanese archipelago extends from northeast to southwest, with its center of power in the middle. When pressure is brought to bear on the middle portion, one is bound to move toward either of the two ends. The northern tip is hardly habitable, and the southern tip faces Korea across a narrow strip of water. Crossing over to the peninsula would then be an obvious matter. Doesn't history tell the story of this movement from the times of Silla onward?
This is where Korea is located. The only means to avoid suffering in this position was to be a strong nation, but Providence did not provide this. History, therefore, had no alternative but to go the way of suffering. The truth is that the topography is such that it cannot produce a great nation. In the first place, there is no large plain to nurture a great nation. The Han people owes its birth to the plain of China. The United States is what it is only because of the vast expanse of plain reaching from the Rockies all the way to the Appalachians. What about England? Hasn't it been a great nation without a great plain? England was favored by its location, and even though it did not possess a large plain in the homeland, didn't it achieve its stature by stealing India and Canada? You know very well what power England has today now that it has given up these lands. Even if most of the Korean peninsula were flat, it would not rate as a large plain, and much less so because eighty per cent of its area is hilly, with only the Kimje plain, such as it is. How many days can grain from this plain feed a large population, like China's? Plains are lacking, but that is not all. There are no large rivers. It has been a historical fact that civilization has flourished by great rivers. A plain without a river is a dead one. Nomadic civilization is all it can sustain. The longest river in Korea, the Yalu, when placed beside the Yangtze of China, hardly measures up to being one of its tributaries.
One unusual thing about Korea, lacking as she does conditions for creating a great nation, is an overabundance of harbors. Korean coastlines are highly irregular and have more than their share of ports. Ports are gateways to a continent. Many gateways usually mean a high volume of activity, but what is the use of so many ports when there is no continent for hinterland?
We should unfold the map further and look at it in broader perspective. A closer study will bring us to a contrasting situation, equally strange, prevailing in the coastal area adjoining the northern part of the peninsula. The expanse of the Manchurian plain lacks gateways. Compare these two facts, and one is forced to conclude that Korea and Manchuria complement each other. If the continent is where people feed themselves and build strength, the sea is where they put forth their strength and demonstrate their skills, a place to show meaning. The plains of Manchuria have to have, for their development, gateways in the Korean peninsula. Korea in turn has to have Manchuria for hinterland before it can put down its roots toward a stable life.
As one thinks this way, one feels uncertain about one point. That is, the natural boundary made of the Changbaek range and the two rivers, the Yalu and the Tumen. Mountain ranges in the peninsula, running north and south in the southern and central part, change direction as they approach Manchuria, to east and west. On the side of Manchuria, the terrain levels out toward Siberia but the closer it approaches the peninsula the more mountainous it becomes. Why these obstacles if Manchuria and Korea are to help each other? Why set apart instead of being one? If they were to beset apart, an insurmountable barrier might have been better for Korea. How is it that the boundary offers little difficulty of passage for thieves from the north, whereas it is obstacle enough for those in the south to discourage any northward venture? In separating the in- separable, and by half-measures at that, the characteristics of a history of suffering are determined.
Calling for merging Manchuria and Korea is not a militarist design. It is only from the viewpoint of seeking meaning in what is apparent, from the belief that the Creator's will is hidden in everything. Besides, to say this has some basis in past history, and is not an arbitrary remark. The cradle of the Koreans in the remote past was Manchuria. Manchuria was where Tan'gun Korea, Puyo and Koguryo rose.
Climate is another determining factor. It significantly affects culture, particularly in providing basic needs, such as food, shelter and clothing. Climate affects the mind. Mild climate breeds lightheartedness; northern climate fosters a stolid and sturdy temperament. The monotheistic religion and the profound, impassioned nature of the Jews can be attributed to the desert where the Semites lived. The Persian philosophy of dualism which envisions war between the god of goodness and the god of evil was in large measure due to the stimulating continental pattern of climate.
As for the Korean climate, it is on the whole temperate, except for the near continental pattern prevailing in the northern part of the peninsula. Both its fauna and flora are rich in variety. Its arable land is fertile, if limited in size. Mineral deposits are not negligible. All in all, it is a condition good for agriculture as well as industry. Fish are abundant, as the cold and warm currents meet in the surrounding seas. Adequate stimulus is available for mental heath. Gentleness and benevolence characteristic of Koreans doubtless owe much to the climate. A soft nature, without an extreme climate to brace it, fostered a lukewarm temperament; an unassertive, temporizing attitude took hold. The positive, rugged temperament that characterized the people of Koguryo seems to have been lost, as they moved from the rigors of Manchurian and Siberian winters to the equable clime of the peninsula.
The pattern of the Korean winter is aptly described as "three cold days followed by four mild days.' This pattern is very Korean: Koreans while away the cold spell dawdling, looking forward to the coming of the milder days. Hasn't this made for Korean character and Korean history? What is worse, Koreans hate to get up from the cozy warmth of the heated floor, the ondol, and brave the cold outdoors. The climate is just the right kind for a people given to vaguely hoping for a better tomorrow, instead of resolutely throwing off the burden of suffering or striking out for a better life.
The landscape has nothing to do with the economy. But "man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God " If God has a mouth, one would find it in the mountains, in the seas, in the grass and flowers, and in the insects, in sunshine and clouds and the wind. Isn't nature God's word? The soaring peaks with outcroppings of rock and with garlands of trees are at once God's body; the running brooks that roar or murmur, now singing and now crying, are His voice. Boundless is the influence that landscape exerts on the mental and emotional life of a nation. The saying that majestic scenery produces great personalities is based on fact. Geomancy4 has had such a hold on Korean minds; landscape was a consideration in choosing a gravesite for the dead. Instead of hoping to benefit the dead from the spirit of hills and rivers, Koreans should have tried to benefit from it while yet living. Had they done this, the Koreans would have done much better for themselves.
Where can you find a land as scenic? But why has a land of scenic beauty been turned into a land overrun with beasts? The Koreans let all in to trample upon the land--those who are like beasts, bears, eagles, boars or wolves. Trees were cut and uprooted, even grass was not spared; the land was made unfit even for the beasts to survive. Is this a land of imprisonment? If one will not listen to God who speaks through nature, one is a beast or even worse, a criminal. No one else has treated us as beasts. No one else has imprisoned us. We turned ourselves into beasts by refusing to use our eyes, our ears and our mouths. We turned the land into a prison by neglecting and abandoning our own home.
Consider the scenery in the land of Korea. Such scenic beauty is rarely to be encountered over the world. Its mountains, its seas are without peer. One can hear the music of running streams nearly everywhere in the land. One can see, the year round, a blue sky overhead by day and the twinkling stars at night. Water in all of its springs proves sweet, refreshing, cool. Every rock on every ridge is exquisite enough to inspire adoration. No matter where you go, it is a poem, a painting.
There is one flaw, however. As it is with the climate so it is with the scenery: too gentle, too peaceful. From every angle, Korea is a land of peace without a warlike streak. The regret is that Korea lacks drive, enterprising spirit. Korea is not sharp, and what it does, it does on a small scale. Clarity is commendable, but one can see through to the bottom; being light is good, yet there is nothing hidden deep, nothing bold. One of its names, Choson, whose original meaning is lost, is usually translated as "Land of Morning Calm.' The scene of a thatched hut under a morning sun aptly symbolizes the land. Majesty or solemnity is out of place here. There is no unrestrained expansiveness or abandon. The deep-seated, the occult is missing.
Most Korean mountains are in old age, showing features reminiscent of paintings of the Southern School of China; its seas are largely inland, unruffled by high waves. The general effect is to induce a mood of peace, not provoking a spirit of venture and enterprise. This is an added condition for making Korean history one of suffering. In this light, too, Korea should not be separate from Manchuria. Separately the two have certain defects which only being together can make up. The two are different from each other, and it is the differences that make one need the other. Only when the two become one is there the chance for the two to survive. Compare the two, and you will see that whereas Manchuria is vast in expanse, Korea is elaborately shaped. Manchuria is a land where one gallops one's steed braving the north wind, a land of military prowess, a land of heroes. Korea has been known as a land of civility and decorum. It behooves the former to shed its crassness and round off its edges by borrowing from the latter; the latter for its turn should take a leaf from the former to eke out its smallness and to add to its feeble strength.
As we look at Korean geography from all angles, we cannot escape the thought that it was arranged to be a home of suffering. The chief cause lies in the separation of Manchuria and Korea, which should have been one. Had Korea with its terrain, climate and landscape been placed in a corner of Europe, it might well have developed into a free, worthy nation. But not in Asia. Asia is different from Europe in scale and mode. From the begin- ning, Asia has been in larger units: China, India, Siberia, Manchuria, Turkey, Arabia. Korea, being a small unit in Asia caught between powers bearing down on it from three sides, finds it hard to withstand outside pressures. Abandoning the ancestral land, Korea has tried to build for itself a country in this crevice. Suffering, then, was inevitable. As I think over Korea's fate, a passage in Tagore's Gitanjali comes to mind.
Where dost thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding thyself in the shadows? They push thee and pass thee by on the dusty road, taking thee for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my offerings for thee, while passers by come and take my flowers, one by one, and my basket is nearly empty.
The morning time is past, and the noon. In the shade of evening my eyes are drowsy with sleep. Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my skirt over my face, and when they ask me, what it is I want, I drop my eyes and answer them not.
Oh, how, indeed, could I tell them that for thee I wait, and that thou hast promised to come? How could I utter for shame that I keep for my dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the secret of my heart.
I sit on the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden splendour of thy coming-all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when they see thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust, and set at thy side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy chariot. Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts and glamour of glory. Is it only thou who wouldst stand in the shadow silent and behind them all? And ordy I whowould wait and weep and wear out my heart in vain longing?
Many have commented, though fragmentarily, on Korean national character. In On Improving National Character Mr. Yi Kwang-su systematically rounds out Korean qualities for us. Some of the pertinent passages cited show how others saw us.
'A Chinese (Han) observation goes: 'In the north there is a country of gentlemen, where they dress properly, complete with sword; they hunt game for food and keep a kind of leopard by their side. They are ready to yield and avoid fight.' Then follows a eulogy by Kuo P'u, which says, 'There are gentlemen in an eastern land of benevolence (jen). They live on and drive striped tigers. Elegant in their ways, they like to yield; they have the grace to appeal to reason.'
"So you see, the Koreans impressed others as gentlemen. Confucius himself, lamenting how venal and unjust his own people were, thought of moving to Korea. 'Ready to yield and avoid fight' accounts for Koreans' being gentlemen. Today one would put the impression as one of generosity, universal love, decorum and probity, combining them with self- respect. Put these four virtues together and you have benevolence (jen) In the light of our history, we find that benevolence indeed seems to be basic to the Korean national character. In dealing with foreign countries, Koreans have not invaded other lands, and are deferential to foreigners. At home, cruelty and violence are rare. Crimes of cruelty, such as murder and robbery, are said to be rare even today.
"One would hardly find such generosity in other nations. Should someone laugh at a Korean he would laugh too without bothering to retaliate. A foreigner might put such a reaction down to timidity, but the Korean attitude of laughing it off comes essentially from forbearance and pride. Koreans are incapable of nurturing a grudge. Often they even forgive one who murdered their own relative. So rare indeed is the theme of vengeance in Korean legend and literature, a far cry from holding vendetta up as virtuous behavior, as they do in Japan.
"Koreans are charitable. Although they might strike you as somewhat distant and cold at first meeting, deep down they are full of warmth. As recently as ten years ago, every casual visitor at the guest room was given food and shelter regardless of whether the host knew him or not.
"Koreans set such store by propriety and decorum. The term 'land of gentlemen reminds one of such practices. We read the following in one Chinese source, Tung-fang Shuo Shen I Ching: 'In a certain land of the east all men wear a white belt and black hat; the women dress in color. When sitting they maintain a respectful posture and do not intrude on each other They compliment each other, refraining from finding fault. Upon seeing a person in trouble, they rush over to his rescue, even risking life. At first blush, one may think them stupid, yet be it said they are warm- hearted.' The Hou Han Shu says of the people of Puyo (an ancient kingdom in Korea): 'They use proper vessels to serve food. When they exchange cups they greet each other and wash the cup. When they meet another person they nod and give way. We read in the San Kuo Chih in the section on Mahan (an old kingdom in Korea): 'It is customary that they yield when two persons meet.' This proclivity to politeness and decorum was such that the factional feuding that beset the Yi period grew more often out of differences of interpretation of the rules of rites than out of other differences. Today, Koreans still favor propriety and decorum, and one must admit that the name 'land of propriety,' as Korea was once called, is quite apt.
"What, then, is propriety and decorum? It is to abide by the rules and to discipline oneself to be orderly. Propriety is also justice'
When we remember how highly Confucius held the virtue of benevolence (jen), we may realize how highly esteemed the Korean quali- ty was. As Confucius saw it, benevolence is the principle basic to the universe as well as to man. Lao Tzu's Way (tao), or nature, must refer to the same cardinal principle. So does Brahman and atman of India, and agape and logos in Christianity. Benevolence is the seed of plant life, the vitality that keeps animals going, the stuff of the spiritual life of man as well as of the universe. In this sense, if we say a person is good, we mean human in the best sense of the word, a true person who lives by the law of the universe and justice, by the will of God. What higher quality can there be? The Chinese hold themselves to be the only civilized nation sitting at the center of the world, and they gave specific names meaning "barbarian' to people beyond the borders on the east, west, north and south of the central kingdom. It is none other than the Chinese themselves who praised the Korean quality of goodness and wisdom.
Among the Chinese characters making up parts of preferred Korean given names there are those meaning benevolent, righteous, propriety, wisdom (or prudence), truth (or sincerity), favorable (or smooth), pure (or honest), harmony (or peace), virtue, bright (or intelligent), good (or peaceful), clear (or virtuous). Personal names being of utmost importance, they are made so as to imply the highest ideals. The characters chosen for names reveal what Koreans have held as ideal. One may dispute that this was all because of Confucian indoctrination. Even assuming that such was the case, the only correct interpretation must be that Koreans do in fact have such a basic temperament which has given rise to Confucianist expression. Let us look at the case of Japan and China. Both have been tutored in Confucianism to the extent that it formed the backbone of thought and culture. But the preferences for choosing characters for personal names differ. To show Japanese examples, the frequent choices include such characters as superior (or eminent), virile (or strong or brave), elegant (or flourishing), brave (or heroic), male, military. This is presumably because these characters better reflect their ideals.
Good, warm-hearted people, in other words, are a nation of peace. Love of peace, being good and benevolent, would indicate that when one considers that the struggle for existence is biologically instinctual, Koreans are on higher moral levels. These peaceful inclinations are cause for a history of suffering.
Bravery is another Korean quality. We read in the Hou Han Shu: "(Koreans) are rough and large of build, strong and brave, and being respectful and sincere, they do not commit robbery ... their nature is simple and upright, strong and brave.' This is borne out by history. Three prototype figures come to mind: On-dal the Stupid Koguryo, Ch'o-yong of Silla and Kom Toryong of Paekche. Not all that has been handed down about them is fact, yet legend--indeed the more legendary the better--tells of national ideals. All three exemplify strength and bravery combined with respectfulness and sincerity. Numerous are the examples, but let me give two from the Samguk sagi.5 stories of bravery well-nigh inconceivable today.
The first story is about Hae-myong, son of King Yuri of Koguryo. The youth's physical strength and prowess were such that the chief of a neighboring tribal state had a bow sent him. It was so tough that an ordinary man would be unable to bend it. The youth bent it hard enough to snap it, and sent word back that the bow proved too fragile. The tribal chief was embarrassed but King Yuri was furious. Declaring Hae-my6ng to be an unfilial son, he asked the tribal chief to behead him. Acting accordingly, the chief sent over a man, who demanded to see the crown prince. When he was about to present himself someone warned him. Undeterred, he said, "What can Chief Hwang-nyong do unless heaven wants me dead? " The chief was so impressed by the young man's conduct that he sent him back in style, unharmed.
The father and son became further estranged. The king presented his son with a sword, ordering him to finish himself off. He charged him with disobedience and with causing a rift with the neighboring country. As someone was trying to stay the hand of Hae-myong, he began to tell his own story. He said in effect that he had broken the gift bow because it was meant to slight Koguryo and now his own father the king was displeased with him ordering him to kill himself. He could not escape the wrath of his father. He stuck a spear into the ground and dashing for it on horseback, he impaled himself upon it. He was only twenty years old. After that the plain was renamed the "Spear Plain."
Our second story is also set in Koguryo. When King Kukch'on died without issue, the widowed Queen U went incognito to his brother Pal-gi, and urged him to succeed to the throne. Pal-gi's reply was that the matter must be decided according to what the movement of the stars indicated. He upbraided the queen for taking the liberty, as a woman, to walk around at night. Queen U was ashamed but approached another brother of the late king, Y6n-u, who agreed to her proposal. The following day, Yon-u was elevated to the throne under the pretext of a non-existing royal order. Pal-gi was furious; he encircled the palace but no additional troops rallied behind him. He hurried to China where he pledged allegiance to the Chinese magistrate Kungsun Tu, procured an army of thirty thousand troops and marched on the homeland. The new king Yon-u had his brother, Kye-su, meet the attack. The Chinese army was routed, and Pal- gi confronted Kye-su: "Do you dare lay hands on your own brother?" "Granted" Kye-su countered, "it was improper and unjust of you to accept the throne without first declining it, as propriety demands. But what do you mean by attacking our homeland just out of petty spite? With what face will you meet your ancestors when you die?" Shamed, Pal-gi committed suicide. Kye-su broke down in sorrow, and had his brother's body buried. Yon-u, approving to a point Kye-su's action, said: "Pal-gi did grave offense when he attacked his own country, and with foreign troops. I can understand that you didn't execute him, although you won. But you wept bitterly over his passing. Am I to understand that you mean to say that I was wrong?" In tears, Kye-su replied saying: "Before I die I will say my last word, brother. You became king as the queen wished. Because you did not, as propriety requires, decline, you failed in brotherly love and respect. I buried our dead brother to maintain your royal dignity, and I find it hard to believe that you are now angry. If you were to give him a formal burial, who would call it improper? I have said what I have to say, and even if I die I'll live on. You may order my execution.' Moved, the king admitted to his mistake and bowed to his brother. A funeral for Pal-gi was held with full ceremony. As a peak needs a broad base to soar into the blue, so a great personality requires a background of collective spiritual life. Brothers like Pal-gi and Key-su presuppose many other families with brothers.
The ancient Koreans were good-natured, they loved peace. They were generous, courageous yet circumspect, and polite. They were so stolid and self-contained that they may have seemed stupid. These are qualities that make for a great nation, qualities lending themselves to the creation of a strong country and high culture. Koreans were above reproach in this respect. Nor did they lack organizational ability or talent to build a nation of substance. It was no small achievement to have been able to develop the kind of civilized society that could last over the centuries. There are not many comparable nations in world history. The Koreans had their trials before they undertook to build a nation. In talent, Koreans have to their credit a number of inventions whose originality can favorably compare with such as the world has known. The fault is that such talent has not been fully developed and sustained.
All this, however, refers to Korea of old. Come down to the present, and we find a different picture. It was said Koreans were good-natured, but where do we now see anything of goodness of heart? Love of peace, but where is peace? The society is riddled with jealousies and backbiting, mugging and purse-snatching. When peace is a crying need, not a single voice is raised calling for peace. Playing the mercenary is held up as some weighty national undertaking. Talk of middle-of-the-road politics or a third force will be shouted down as if it were a veritable plague. Feuding among political factions that ended in the downfall of the Yi dynasty is no concern of ours at the moment. But Koreans had to live in bondage for decades as a consequence. God had mercy and the country was freed again. Different groupings jockeyed for power in the name of building a new nation. Meantime, the 38th parallel, seemingly a ripple in interna- tional power politics at one time, now, appears to be perpetuated as a deep emotional barrier. Where are the courageous Koreans now? Should Pal-gi come again, the one who cut his throat when questioned by his brother for attacking his own homeland with foreign troops, what answer do we have for him? What would our forefathers, who risked their lives trying to rescue those in distress have to say about what they see today? Aid delivered from abroad gets lost, instead of reaching the needy in the process of distribution. Would those ancestors claim us as theirs? While our ancestors may seem slow-witted, Koreans today are too clever for their own good. No longer any national myth, no more national heroes. No deep emotion stirs this nation any more. Clever to a fault, they are without ideals. How can you keep a country going this way? Looking at our history with this in mind, we can't escape the thought that "the scenario has been altered in the middle." As we have seen in geography, there were the makings of a great nation, which later changed. This change came around the time of the Three Kingdoms. All the good qualities that ran in the hearts of the people of Koguryo, Silla and Paekche disappeared like a rivulet trickling into desert sands. What caused the change? It was not just external. Was it then some internal defect that inevitably brought about the change?
My answer is as follows. This may be as absurd as saying that Korean history is one of suffering, yet I will say it. Koreans lack depth; they do not dig deep enough. They do not think a thing through. If one were to grasp the reality hidden behind the appearance, to seek the eternal in the fleeting, to arrive at oneness in the various and sundry, one would need to stare into the dark depths of chaos, like a brooding hen over her eggs. Koreans lack such perseverance of thinking. So you have a nation without poetry, without philosophy, without religion. This is a serious fault. Hence, a great change in the scenario of history, growth stunted.
Korea is without religion. There are religions but they are borrowings, none being an outgrowth of Korea's own soil: Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism or Christianity. The Ch'ondogyo of recent origin is in fact a hodgepodge of imported religions, but not an indigenous development. Another religion, Taejonggyo, refuses to be distracted by things foreign. Its attempt at fanning embers into flame is commendable but far from adequate. Something must be wrong that the national soul has not been set afire.
There are native religions. What are they? The fortune-teller squatting by the roadside, the mudang or shaman dancing with a fish head, the acrobat walking a tightrope. These are primitive shamanistic cults. This age-old tradition has degenerated. All religions in primitive times were of the nature of magic, witchcraft, animist worship, and have in the course of time turned into higher religion as a result of deep thinking on moral and philosophical levels, backed by discipline and experience. Our native religions became corrupt because such endeavors were neglected. That leaves little to expect from philosophy or poetry. So we have been able to parade more or less as a civilized nation but alas, without a philosophy or poetry which we can call our own.
Failure to delve into oneself breeds no self-respect. The observer, Mr. Yi Kwang-su, regards Koreans as full of pride but I beg to differ. Self- respect is not self-conceit, an exaggerated self-image. It is knowing one's own true value based on the awareness of personality. Our people fail to see their own worth. No self-respect, and no freedom. Without freedom, the precious "benevolence" turns lifeless. Pacifist principles become stupidity, courage becomes fierceness. Slavery is not just a misfortune; it is a crime. Belittling others is criminal; belittling ones self is even more criminal, for all crimes flow from this. A nation without a spirit of freedom is forced to bear two burdens-repression by others and God's judgment for one who has betrayed oneself. Serious shortcomings in Korean national character are reflected in Korean history.
Politicians sought to keep the country from falling apart by temporizing diplomacy. The economy sought to keep body and soul together. Plans were never extensive or grand. Buildings are small; the Kyongbok-kung on the former palace grounds is just about the biggest there is. The largest of stone statues is that of Miruk in Unjin, Ch'ungch'ong-namdo. Elsewhere, some buildings took centuries to complete. When it comes to jobs, the whole purpose is merely to keep one's family fed. As for business, all one hopes for is a quick return on investment.
By the time of the Three Kingdoms period things had changed, with the earlier spirit flagging, the design shortsighted, and ideals lost sight of. Everything was now on a smaller, temporary, case-by-case basis. All this was because of the lack of profundity, because one betrayed oneself.
Why were we made to bear a burden of suffering? Why the change in the middle? I see it as God's way of curing the malady. In idleness is death, someone said. Idleness breeds crime. A nation so optimistic and generous but without depth of character, placed in a moderate climate, is bound to be ineffectual, falling short of expectation. Hence, the burden of suffering, for suffering makes people think and gives depth to life. Suffering purifies history. An easy-going person thinking only in two dimensions will gain through a suffering religion which has three dimensions. A history full of oppression and fighting has all the potential for doing good when seen with tearful eyes. Had it not been for high-handed China, fierce Manchuria, bold Japan and ominous Russia-all hard to bear-Korea might well have gone under. We are plodding the path of suffering for we want to live. We are alive for God permits it. That God lets us be alive is proof that He has work for us to do. Therefore, we have to endure the scourge of suffering in order to complete the work history has entrusted to us.
Back to Queen of Suffering Table of Contents On to Chapter III. Early Promise and Failure