Can we learn from Gwangju?

By Steven L. Shields

I've learned a few things about Gwangju over the past several years. First, the events in Gwangju in 1980 were horrifying. Second, many unanswered questions surround the tragic days and their aftermath. Lots of blame going in several directions. Lots of denials and counter-denials from many quarters. Finally, there are so many opinions and claims of evidence that not only are solid facts elusive, but the truth is even more elusive than that. Could it be there are more critical lessons still to be learned?

I don't need to remind readers of what happened in Gwangju, both a long time ago and seemingly like yesterday. In the 40 years that have passed, the grief for many is still unresolved. At the same time, Korea is a much different, more egalitarian society than it probably ever was during its millennia-long history. Yet, there still is a vocal right wing that seemingly wishes time could be rolled back to the authoritarianism of the past. Indeed, democracy is a challenge when the voting public is divided on issues, as the recent presidential election showed.

In 1980, the United States Peace Corps still had an essential and valuable mission in Korea. The Peace Corps had been in Korea since the 1960s, and many volunteers taught English in faraway countryside schools. More and more, though, by the late 1970s, Peace Corps workers dealt with challenging diseases ― still far out in the countryside where medical care was not readily available. Some volunteers worked with villages where Hansen's disease wreaked havoc. Tuberculosis was quite prevalent, too. A handful of Peace Corps workers and a few Western missionaries scattered in Gwangju and the surrounding villages. These folks became eyewitnesses to what began to unfold in May of 1980.

The Peace Corps members were ordered to evacuate the city. United States government officials, charged with the safety of its citizens, believed their actions prudent. However, some refused to follow those orders and were later ejected from the Peace Corps and Korea. In fact, in the aftermath of Gwangju, then-president Chun Doo-hwan demanded the U.S. shut down all Peace Corps operations in the country.

In recent years, some Peace Corps volunteers have written and published their memoirs of those tragic several days. They have done so at great personal pain and emotional suffering over what they saw and experienced.

One former Peace Corps volunteer in Gwangju in May 1980, reflecting on his recently published book and suggesting how we might understand how Korea changed, argues that without diminishing the significant loss of life, continuing to argue over the numbers of the dead is a challenge moving forward. Paul Courtright, now a university professor and a widely experienced epidemiologist, was a young man in 1980 just trying to help people who were hurting. Now four decades later, he suggests we must understand how "5.18" changed Korea. There are some parallels, he believes. The lessons that might be learned could help find ways in which Korea could help mediate the situation in Myanmar, for example.

Professor Courtright reminds us that although Gwangju was a focal point of the events as they unfolded in the region, there are dozens of stories about how the citizens in outlying villages were responding in solidarity with the city folks. He related the story of Namyoung, where he was living and working at the time. He tells how the villagers descended on the local police station, broke into the armory, and began issuing weapons and ammunition so they could join the fight. A few students argued with the villagers and suggested they would probably be killed if they went against better-trained military forces. But, a wise grandfatherly gentleman suggested to put the weapons back would mean others could use them. He suggested, and the villagers agreed, the weapons should be destroyed. There are perhaps dozens of similar stories that have yet to be told.

Courtright's and other eyewitness accounts differ widely from Chun Doo-hwan's accounts, which are considered "official." During the events in May 1980, an older woman begged Courtright to tell their stories. She said, "We have no voice. You need to give voice to our struggles."

In the odd and sometimes unfortunate twists of the "news cycle," Gwangju got quickly pushed off the front pages of US news, replaced by the eruption of Mt. St. Helens in Washington state. The volcano blew on the same day as Gwangju. The general U.S. public, had they been more aware of what was happening in Korea, may have demanded more transparency and accountability from the U.S. government concerning the role of U.S. military and diplomatic forces in Korea at the time. While acknowledging the complexity of the issue, Courtright continues to harbor disappointment with how the U.S. government responded to Gwangju, as evidenced by their continued support of Chun's coup d'etat and military dictatorship.

The California State Assembly recently passed a resolution recognizing May 18 in the state as a commendation of the democratization of Korea. All the members of the State Assembly had read Courtright's memoirs. The resolution was passed unanimously ― a rare occasion in democratic government.

Paul Courtright still struggles with what he calls Chun's "false narrative." But perhaps when that generation passes, the younger generations might be able to look at Gwangju and find how Korea shifted from dictatorship to full-blown democracy. Korea could be a model for other nations who struggle with the same questions. His book, "Witnessing Gwangju: A Memoir" was published in 2020 by Hollym International and is available in a Korean-language edition.

Rev. Steven L. Shields (slshields@gmail.com) has lived in Korea for many years, beginning in the 1970s. He is the president of the Royal Asiatic Society Korea. He served as copy editor of The Korea Times in 1977. The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not reflect The Korea Times' editorial stance.