Learning something new about 'Koryo Saram'

Eugene Lee

Chuseok is a time to reconnect. And so, I did. I’ve reached out to a few academics to expand my research on international affairs and some interesting phenomena currently taking place in Central Asia. Prior to that, while going through some materials, I read about a symbolic number of 160 years of history of "Koryo Saram" (ethnic Korean).

During my conversation with no other than Viktor M. Kim, the president of the Association of Koryo Saram in Tajikistan, my knowledge of the history of Koryo Saram has been updated with a few important facts. After asking about the number, he mentioned the following: Yes, Koryo Saram were deported and went through an immense tribulation in 1937, but that wasn’t the beginning. In his words, it was on Sept. 21, 1864, when the first families from destabilized and externally influenced Joseon Korea began to arrive in the Russian Far East, and over the next few decades, thousands of more Koreans would migrate, forming tight-knit communities while preserving Korean culture and traditions. Koryo Saram aren’t just ethnic Koreans that, by fortune, happened to live abroad. They have always maintained their Korean heritage, holding onto a strong Korean identity that resisted imperial and external influences of the 19th century.

My interaction with Victor, who could draw a bigger picture, led me to two realizations — first, he was a real treasure box of history! And second, Koryo Saram aren’t just part of Korean history; they are an unbroken line of resistance to imperial powers, from the era of Japanese occupation to the forced deportation by Stalin’s regime. Despite being far from the homeland, Koryo Saram preserved the language, traditions and values — a symbol of cultural integrity. While noting a process taking place in Central Asia today between younger generations, a tendency of delineation by countries: some are distinguishing between Uzbek Koryo Saram, Kyrgyz Koryo Saram and Kazakh Koryo Saram, he emphasized that Koryo Saram of Tajikistan remained as historically documented Koryo Saram, unchanged. My hunch is that Tajikistan, with its smaller community of Koryo Saram, has become a bastion of preservation of those traditions.

By listening to him, I began to see a powerful lesson in unity and dedication to the preservation of shared cultural and historical consciousness — a deep connection to Korea and longing for homeland between Koryo Saram stayed unchanged, as a time capsule, showing a path to a more united and sovereign future.

After asking him to tell me more, he excitedly shared a couple of stories referring to their strong attitude towards traditions. For them, Koryo Saram in Tajikistan, it was very important to follow rules without any deviation on two days of any given year: Hansik (known as Parents’ Day) and Chuseok, the one we just celebrated. By hearing about Hansik traditionally celebrated on the 105th day after the winter solstice, not every May 5, as these days, I could hear some notes of criticism in his voice, as these days in modern Korea holidays are easily adjusted to fit weekends. Also, Viktor mentioned that even if, by some reason, on that day people were away, as far as in the Far East, they still would travel back to Dushanbe over 3,000 miles with no excuse for skipping traditional ceremonies.

The second account was during years of painful civil war in the 1990s, when he organized trips for people to the graves of their ancestors to pay their tributes, and the cemetery was a battleground of warring sides. He had to negotiate a temporary cease-fire on those days, and surprisingly, both sides agreed. Inadvertently, while risking his life, he also played the role of peacemaker, at least on those days. By practicing his devotion to his ancestors, he was showing what had a real value to fighting sides and reminding them what is really holy. Tajikistan is at peace now, and in my eyes, without doubt, there is Victor’s contribution to that peace. By the way, he also mentioned that he wasn’t sure he would do that again. After asking him about if it was too much of a sacrifice or was it simply a religiosity of people, he stated that the value of such big sacrifices was only one — to keep people together and, by doing so, help them to survive. And that is exactly what they did.

He also said that later, in the early 1990s, Koryo Saram stood at the forefront of rebuilding ties between the Central Asian republics and their homeland, South Korea.

On a personal level, after hearing those stories, it would be easy to exaggerate and start praising someone. But, academically speaking, if I try to disassociate myself from all of it, he is a historical figure— an inspiring leader in the past and a humble elder of that community today. There are passionate and respectable academics who write about Koryo Saram, but Victor deserves separate attention.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to talk him into writing his own memoir or book on the history of the Koryo Saram in Tajikistan, but what I know for sure is that if you want to learn about them, he is the one to start from. Also, as South Korea continues to search its place in history, or actually the history itself, the story of the Koryo Saram stands as a reminder of cultural integrity and national pride. By embracing them, the Koryo Saram, by learning and carefully rebuilding their and its own history, South Korea can chart a course towards a more sovereign and united future, maybe even with North Korea one day.

Eugene Lee (mreulee@gmail.com) is a lecturing professor at the Graduate School of Governance at Sungkyunkwan University in Seoul. Specializing in international relations and governance, his research and teaching focus on national and regional security, international development, government policies and Northeast and Central Asia.