Unhealed
As we know, a violent extremist attacked US Ambassador Mark Lippert. Many of us have seen the horrific picture of the fresh wound on Mr. Lippert's face, which was published (in bad taste) in the Korean media. The awful image remains at the forefront of my mind.
But Korea is not Benghazi. As anyone who has spent any time at all in Korea knows, it is a very safe place. I worry much more about my personal safety as I walk the civic centers of America than I do walking in Korea. It would be a mistake for Ambassador Lippert to now lock himself away. And I don't expect that the gregarious Ambassador—who up until now spent his days openly tweeting his whereabouts as he walked his dog—to vanish from the public eye.
But is also a mistake to pretend this means nothing. Many have disregarded the attack by saying, "The attacker is a dangerous nut.” Yes, the man is clearly a disturbed person, but why did he choose this victim and this ideology? Rather than a random event, this attack marks a significant point in the US-Korea relationship.
In Korea there is a feeling of discontent. It stems from many things, including the rising class divide, an uncertain economic future, and the recent string of traumatizing disasters. And then there is that persistent feeling that Korea may not even be Korea anymore. Many feel that the nation traded in dwenjang and kimchi for Starbucks and fusion pasta a little too recklessly—and lost something in the process. Think of the sudden nostalgia for the early 1990s, which is when many people feel was the last time Korea still felt like Korea.
When people feel powerless and full of discontent they look for a scape coat or a boogeyman to blame. For Koreans it might be too unnerving to talk about the obscure North Korean threat, but it's much easier to talk about the overbearing Boy Scout who keeps trying to drag you across the street (whether you like it or not). That's right. I'm referring to the US.
Sure, generations of Koreans thanked American GIs for their rice and bombs, but the people chasing Jeeps for chocolate are almost all gone. Even the generation that fought beside the US in Vietnam is almost gone. Most young people in Korea today absolutely do not see the US as a benign savior. Instead, they see it as a self-interested superpower who divided Korea arbitrarily and is unable (or unwilling) to put it back together.
I do not contend that the attacker and his beliefs reflect mainstream Korean thought. The attacker is, however, at the extreme end of an undercurrent of a sentiment that flows beneath mainstream Korean thought. Sure, he's at the far end, but there are many that stand somewhere on his spectrum.
Before you dismiss me, be honest. You never heard an intense debate in Korea tinged with anti-American sentiment? It is convenient to ignore these experiences. It just as convenient to ignore the fact that downtown Seoul was a warzone over something as seemingly innocuous as imported American beef bones, or that half the country wanted to kill a Japanese American kid for winning the gold, or that PSY once slammed a replica American tank on stage to the roar of candle holding crowds. Then there are the more sinister events, like the recent jailing of a prominent lawmaker for trying to start a pro-North rebellion of all things. Please recall the words of Secretary Gates when he met President Roh Moon Hyun. Roh told him that the US was the great threat, not the North. Gates dismissed him as a nut. But Roh was not a nut. He was just saying out loud what many of the people he represented felt.
I am not saying that all of Korea sees the US as its enemy. Notably, in the immediate aftermath of the attack on the Ambassador, there has been an appropriate outpouring of support. Some have even taken to the streets to wave US and Korean flags. What I'm saying, however, is that I cringe every time I see some US politician who has flew to the DMZ for a photo opportunity describe the relationship as some unbreakable bond formed in heaven to defy the dark forces of communism. The story is not that simple. It never was. By pretending that it is that simple, we are failing to analyze and find solutions to the more troubling, more complex reality we face.
Ambassador Lippert is already on the mend but the damage lingering in our wounded relationship and the fractured Korean national psyche will be harder to fix. Like band aids on torn flesh, Korea remains unhealed with legitimate questions about not only its colonial past but its seemingly random division and the US's role in that continued division.
I am reminded of the lingering pain in my own country: America's history of slavery and the disenfranchisement of African Americans. In America, we can pretend everything's fixed, but when terrible events flare up, we remember solemnly that it's still broken. We can hold hands and say “Katchee Kapshida” a million times, like some spell to make everything feel better. But hackneyed slogans and photo opts can't heal the wounds. Because the more you shout about unbreakable ties, the less true it all sounds. Let's talk about where we really are. Let's talk about where each side really wants to go.
Nathan McMurray considers Korea his second home. He spent much of his adult life working as a business person and attorney in Seoul. He also spent time Korea as a Fulbright Scholar studying at the Constitutional Court. He currently resides in Western New York with his family, but travels to Korea frequently. He is a regular contributor to the Asia Society blog.