제주평화연구원

For Jeju natives, The Jeju Massacre is a living history

  [caption id="" align="alignright" width="207"] Darryl Coote
Canadian journalist, writer and broadcaster[/caption] From 1947 to 1954 an estimated 30,000 Jeju residents were massacred by the US-backed new-ly formed South Korean government. And ever since, the history of what happened here 70 years ago has been contorted by politics.   The conservative right has labeled it The Jeju April 3rd Rebellion with the purpose of blaming the tragedy on the imaginary Communists. The liberal left went with The Jeju Uprising to heroize those who protested the general election of 1948 and, consequently, the bifurcation of Korea. The government, on the other hand, went with the most egregious of the three in order to placate both sides, the mostly politically mute The Jeju April 3rd Incident.   And in this fight for narrative control over the tragedy those most directly affected by it have been largely ignored: the victims themselves.   Lee Sang Ha was 12 years old when he was left for dead beside the bodies of his mother, father and four other family members. They had been preparing a funeral for his grandparents who were killed the day before when several police officers came to his home in Jungmun, Jeju Is-land, and ordered them to kneel outside in the snow. The police had tried to recruit Lee’s eldest brother. Instead of joining he ran and his entire family were executed out of fear they were Communists. The bullet meant for Lee missed his right ear ejecting dirt into his mouth from the ground where it hit. He utilized the bomb raid training he’d received during the Japanese occupa-tion of Korea to fake dead for half an hour as his parents’ blood pooled around him.   Seventy years on Lee still remembers the name of the police officer who executed his family. How could he forget? He was from Moseulpo, a nearby town, Jungmun’s local beat cop.   This is often forgotten when non-Jeju natives write, talk and discuss about what happened here that the history of the massacre is a personal one.   Following the ousting of Japan from the Korean Peninsula there was little to no government con-trol on the island. It was a time of anarchy and fear as the police, mostly disliked by the public for having been police during Japan’s occupation, wielded their power against the predominantly poor Jeju citizens.   No Jeju resident lived through this time unscathed.   For Lee, the massacre left him orphaned and destitute forcing him to move to Japan were he worked illegally until he was arrested for doing so and jailed there for two years.   In comparison my family fared much better. On the Jungmun memorial dedicated to those who were victims during this time my wife’s family name appears only once. Her great grandfather was jailed and tortured to confess to crimes he didn’t commit. Family land was sold in order to bribe police for his freedom.   And Jungmun was far better off than most villages on the island, despite having hundreds of res-idents’ names chiseled into that monument.   It was a time of lawlessness, Lee said.   The citizens of Jeju were terrorized for years. Then when order was restored their stories were taken from them as talk about what happened was met with fierce punishment by the govern-ment. When there was talk, it was from the political right blaming the Jeju victims for what hap-pened.   Only within the last two decades or so have people felt able to discuss their trauma without gov-ernmental reproach.   And in my years of conducting interviews with survivors on this matter all have told me, in one form or another, that back then they were too busy struggling to stay fed to be concerned with politics.   Back then, politics were for the privileged few. Surviving was what was left for the Jeju citizens.   To this day in Jeju victim neighbours murderer. While many who perpetrated crimes then have left the island, many still remain. In my town of Jungmun Lee said he can point out the homes where descendants of the Northwest Youth League still live.   To my surprise Lee said he’s not interested in justice. For the perpetrators to live with what they had done is punishment enough, he said. He just wants people to know what happened here. For years I have asked the question, when will some one be jailed for this? When will there be a tribunal like that of the Nuremberg trails where the accused are proved guilty before their vic-tims? I will continue to ask this question until I see those who inflicted so on pain on the island I love punished.   However, maybe Lee is right: the worst punishment is for them to live with what they did and for the truth to be known.   But I worry that those in power are waiting for the remaining victims to pass and with them this living history will become concertized in place and with it discussion about what happened here will diminish to sullen dismissive condolences. I have seen for about a decade the meaning of this massacre pulled and distorted by politics and I can see people tiring of the discussion before the history is righted.   Its meaning can only be found in the stories of Lee and others like him who suffered through the massacre. For it is their story, their history to tell.   It is only our job to listen.