From Dissident to President, from Compromise to Nobel Prize?

From Dissident to President, from Compromise to Nobel Prize?

Some Personal Thoughts on the Late Kim Dae-jung

 

Jan Creutzenberg (jannberg@zedat.fu-berlin.de), Oct. 2009

 

Even in his death Kim Dae-jung remains a man of many names: self-made Nobelist, visionary disc jockey of South Korean democratisation, or only a poor old politician? Jan Creutzenberg reflects on media images, nicknames and his one and only encounter with the man who made history.

 

It seems as if Kim Dae-jung's Sunshine Policy, in virtual coma for what felt like years, has outlived its creator and greatest advocat. After countless verbal and material threats from the North, the improbable did happen when Kim Dae-jung died this August: Kim Jong-il himself sent a message of condolence to the bereaved family, honoring his fellow Nobel laureate—"Though he passed away to our regret, the feats he performed to achieve national reconciliation and realize the desire for reunification will remain long with the nation" (Rodong Sinmun)—and sent a "mourning delegation" to Seoul.

 

Not only did these ambassadors convey "words of profound consolation" from the "Dear Leader" and deposited a wreath at the bier of "the other Kim", they also met South Korean President Lee Myung-bak—usually titulated a "traitor" by the mouthpiece of North Korea's ruling party—to talk about "issues of developing the relations between the north and the south." Once more "From Pyongyang with Love", one might say, but hopefully this time the affection will last longer than the duration of a state funeral? "  

 

 

 Aug. 23, 2009: Mass gathering in front of City Hall, Seoul, after the funeral procession for late Kim Dae-jung.

© Internet Photo Co-op 2009

 

The man who possibly profited most from Kim Dae-jung's Sunshine Policy was not the only one to bemourn this veteran of South Korea's long way to democratisation, though. Far from it, political companions, allies and adversaries, journalists all over the world paid their last respect to the man known as "Champion of Democracy", "the Mandela of Asia", or "DJ", respectively, to distinguish him from the dozens of other Kims involved in Korean politics.

 

Despite the pomp and circumstances of the official funeral ceremony, his political heritage remains dubious. In fact, many Korean citizens grew tired both of the lacking responses to Kim's sunshine from the South and the odor of corruption that surrounded him since it became known that his trip to Pyongyang had cost more than the usual train fare, while two of his three sons were in jail for taking bribes.

 

I did not know much about his "dark side" when I saw Kim Dae-jung for the first (and last) time in person. That was about two years ago in an auditorium of the Freie Universität Berlin, where Kim received the newly-created Freedom Award. Back then, the man was a simple equation for me: from dissident to president, from compromise to Nobel Prize.

 

 

Sitting in fifth row with some fellow students, I was fiddling with pen and paper, the tape recorder on my lap, while the introductory string quartet played some Brahms. This was to be my debut as a reporter for the online newspaper OhmyNews, so I was ready to suck in any word, when Dieter Lenzen, President of Freie Universität, rose to speak. It did not take long into his introductory words that I got really annoyed: not so much by Lenzen extensively dwelling in the university's glorious past, but by a mistake in pronounciation: Persistently, he was talking about the former President of Korea as "Kim Dae-YUNG"

 

Pronouncing foreign names "the German way" is common practice in a country where children begin their English education in nursery school. Even in newscasts things like this happen more often than not. An aspiring student of the Korean language, however, I was determined to give this obvious lack of respect towards an honorary politician and guest of our university the harsh treatment that it deserves—my article would wholehartly condemn this act of ignorance on behalf of the master of ceremony. 

 

 

 

  

May 16, 2007: Former President Kim Dae-jung receives the Freedom Award of Freie Universität Berlin, on the right, with headphones: Dieter Lenzen, President of Freie Universität.  © Jan Creutzenberg, OhmyNews 2007

 

In fact, all of my references to this incident where later edited out by the publishing staff. Nevertheless, in retrospect this repeated mispronunciation appears to be emblematic of my own twisted expectations of Kim Dae-Jung. Because the Kim who was sitting on the podium was anything—but young (thus the meaning of the German word "jung").

 

This should have been no surprise: Kim's life spanned the better part of the last century and his career began early after liberation, making him a witness of post-war Korea, including several uprisings, authorian regimes and—after all—the process of democratisation. Having survived consistent political persecution, several assassination attempts and one successful abduction, followed by a death sentence and years of incarceration and house arrest, by the time he was elected President, he was already in his seventies.

 

Naturally Kim was an old man when I saw him in Berlin. He needed help to get on stage, but once he sat there and spoke up, his words were forward-looking and very outspoken: Specifically addressing the European Union, he demanded a more active engagement on their part—not only as a negotiator, but also as a model for a stronger cooperation in Northeast Asia. Finally, he envisioned a new "silk road by rail," connecting Seoul with Pyongyang, then continuing via Moscow, Berlin and Paris to London: a veritable Orient Express, only this time North by Northwest. In short, Kim delivered an interesting, visionary and inspiring speech, so my report turned out pretty favorable.

 

Revisiting the OhmyNews homepage a few days after posting my text, I was perplexed by the reactions. And there was more to come: During the following weeks, nine people commented on my text. All of them in a negative way, more or less subtly. The critique aimed not so much at my writing but rather at Kim himself. He was compared to Neville Chamberlain (the British Prime Minister who tried to appease Hitler), Benedict Arnold (a notorious traitor the American War of Independence) and Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, nicknamed "the prince of diplomats"—which does not sound too bad for a politician engaged in inter-Korean harmonization. However, this aristocrat survived the French Revolution because of his motto: "Regimes may fall and fail, but I do not." After doing my share of research, I was quite sure these comparisons were not meant as a compliment.

 

 

In other cases the message behind the words was more obvious, for example in the following comment: "He's nobody. Unless, if you're from Jolla province of S.Korea. An insignificant, minute rotten red infested, double standard, devious minded region!" Without presuming the provenience of these comments—definitely not Jolla-do—, they prepared me for a tough lesson: The opinions on Kim Dae-jung and his work are much more divided than I thought, not least in Korea.

 

The word about prophets who are never popular at home comes to mind. Or, considering that Kim certainly had his share of popularity during his heydays, he might be considered an illustration of the lesson about politics the Batman taught us last summer: "You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

 

Well, Kim did not die a hero. When I heard the news, I expected the worse. Although the reactions to Roh Moo-hyun's suicide earlier this year had shown once again that in Korea a dead president might possibly be a good president, I was sure that there would be many bad things to be said about this dead. Once again, I should have known better… Back at OhmyNews, the aftermath of Kim's death is well documented with a gallery of photos from the state funeral and a selection of notes of remembrance, among them:

 

"Thank you for leaving us a good world."

"Please don't be in pain in heaven and rest in peace without worry."

"I will never forget your wish that justice will rise-up like the river, and hope will awaken like a rainbow."

 

Farewell to a political dinosaur? Well, the mass gathering of friends, foes, family and fans after the procession would drive any pop star jealous. Sunny Seoul might not be Southern California, but Kim made History, too.

 

  

 Nov. 21, 1997: Kim Dae-jung, then South Korean presidential candidate of the National Congress for New Politics, performs calligraphy as U.S. pop star Michael Jackson looks on beside him as he visits Kim's office in Seoul.

© AP Photo/Yonhap 1997

 

The King is dead, long live the King! But what about the President? Even in retrospect, he retains the ability to surprise. Like a disk jockey, unable to satisfy every musical request brought to him, DJ Kim struggled with popular opinion but managed to remain emblematic of contemporary East Asian politics.

 

Foreshadowing his utopian plans for the Korean peninsula, he chose Thomas More as his name patron when embracing catholicism 50 years ago. Maybe More's career as a lawyer and statesman in revolutionary England fitted Kim's ambitions. Beheaded for his loyalty to the Pope, More became a Saint on the 400th anniversary of his execution. Far from being a martyr, Kim Dae-jung's canonization—not by pontifical decree, but by the Korean people—is likely to be more a matter of decades than of centuries.