Korean Protests

In South Korea right now there is a big controversy over the import of American beef, which they claim could be infected with mad cow disease. I won't make any commentary on this until I get there and see what is happening for myself, but I did read this excellent article that I wanted to share about the nature of the protests. I found it very interesting, and slightly reminiscent of my time spent in Chile, during the protests of the pinguinos (high school students) protesting against the unfair distribution of money within the school system.

Here is the link to the actual article at the Asia Times Online: http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Korea/JF13Dg01.html

Party time at South Korea's protest 2.0
By Sunny Lee

SEOUL - This is strange. Even as anti-government demonstrations in South Korea go, this is an odd, odd scene. Even a foreigner thinks so. "I have never seen anything like this before," said Jeff Lazar, an American activist observing the ongoing protests here over the import of beef from the United States. "It's like a festival. They are even using a laser projector to write their protest words in the air. It's effective because it's fun. It's also a sure attention-grabber," he adds.

South Korea's infamously combative street protests have taken an unexpected, and sometimes amusing, turn. It has become much more peaceful, but, mind you, that's a relative term compared with previous practices. For example, during the 40-day-long candlelight demonstration that started on May 2 - when 15,000



students unexpectedly took to the streets - and up to this Tuesday which commemorated the June 10 Democracy Movement in 1987 that had bid farewell to the decades of military rule, only one person has lost his life.

And the deceased was not killed because of a bloody clash with the riot police, but because he set himself on fire.

Like any good festival, some people have come out wearing interesting costumes. Lee Dong-keun, a 19-year-old freshman at Korea University, and a classmate wear identical full-body tiger outfits. "I got a lot of pictures taken by media people," said Lee with pride.

And the streets themselves are much cleaner because of people like Cho Eun-mi, who volunteers to pick up trash, including empty soda cans, water bottles and pieces of torn slogan-bearing placards. "I know some people frown on the protesters. They think streets get dirty after protests. So I thought if I made the street less dirty by picking up trash, then those people might also get less upset," Cho said.

The most commonly seen slogans are variations on "No to US beef!" But people seem equally, if not more, upset about President Lee Myung-bak. "The President Lee said he would serve people. I think he's not doing it. So, I am protesting," said tiger-suited Lee.

Mahbub Alam from Bangladesh said of the street protests: "I get the feeling that the issue is not just about the beef. The American beef is rather a symbol for people to snub President Lee, who they feel is snubbing them."

Besides the lack of violence, what is surprising - even to South Koreans - is that there is no organizer for the already weeks-long demonstration. People took to the streets and formed ad hoc protest groups, usually around 6pm or 7pm each day. This has been bewildering to South Korean civil society, labor unions and opposition politicians - the usual players in such public protests. Tuesday's rally was the first officially organized protest and had the biggest turnout - police estimate 105,000 demonstrators, while the organizers said the number was closer to 500,000.

Still, one might think it was some kind of mass picnic, until you spot the riot police standing stiff, waiting for a crackdown order. Some people are holding impromptu concerts complete with guitars and violins, singing and dancing. In some cases, entire families have arrived to literally "camp out" in the middle of traffic. Of course they brought tents with them.

Other "protesters" have brought hot coffee to serve anyone who needs it. And high school students have given out roses to riot police, a move that definitely brings down the tension level. Some are distributing water bottles to the aggressive "frontliners" who usually shout more and work up a justified thirst. There are even volunteer medics walking around, shouting "Does anybody need help?"

Young couples use the protest for a romantic outing. They march with hands held tight, and the other hand holding a candle. Local TV footage has shown a man celebrating his girlfriend's birthday with a protest-candle cake. Other "demonstrators" have brought an outdoor movie projector and are showing the US documentary Sicko.

With the party atmosphere in full swing, the street vendors are enjoying a heyday of extra money and unusual business hours. It's 2am, and here they are selling kimbob (Korean sushi) or bundaegi (roasted silkworm larvae) right in the middle of roads that have been declared "no-traffic zones" by protesters who're occupying them.

This is South Korea's street protests 2.0. Or, perhaps, South Korea's "postmodern" demonstrations. With some Koreans mistrustful of mainstream media reports on the demonstration, they've taken matters into their own hands by broadcasting and reporting themselves. Using high-speed wireless Internet, some "embedded" citizens are using their own laptops and camcorders to broadcast real-time events. There are "citizen reporters" conducting interviews and taking pictures and posting them on their personal blogs and Internet forums. In fact, these news hounds have been so effective that some established newspapers have begun quoting them.

With no leaders leading, the protest might be considered "ineffective". People are protesting individually, shouting different slogans, marching in different directions; different people with different agendas. Some shout "2MB", the lowest speed unit of computer processing and also the initials of President Lee, sarcastically pointing out how slow Lee is in understanding the people's will.

Lee, who won the presidency in December with a record 5-million vote margin over runner-up Chung Dong-young, saw his popularity plunge below 20% by the time he marked his 100th day in office last week - another record in South Korea's recent decades. In fact, Lee has recently become so controversial a figure that the Korean edition of Wikipedia, the online participatory encyclopedia, decided to freeze any further revision on "Lee Myung-bak" for the next four months, fearing malicious attempts to distort the "facts" on him that have yet to be settled.

In this unusual protest, there are some unusual chants as well. "Turn away from your evil sin and turn to God," shouts a 40ish woman waving a Bible. "Take President Lee to God. I pray that God takes Lee out of the planet quickly," a man shouts back. Not far away, Roh Eun-jung, 28, a web designer chants: "Non-violence! Keep non-violence!"

Meanwhile, those who have earned an appetite after hours of street protesting yell, "We want food!" This mantra received echoes and giggles from sympathetic comrades throughout the crowd.

For the police, this unorganized rabble - ranging from a uniformed high-school student to a 57-year-old housewife, who said she came out "to change the world" - is easier to manage than a well-organized and militant group of protesters led by a strident leader. This self-appointed mob, however, does tend to stick around longer. And why not? It's 4am now in Seoul's main Gwanghwamun area and there are still quite a number of candle-holders milling about.

A police officer, asked when all this was likely to end, said: "I have no idea because this is an organization where there is no organizer." The conversation was then interrupted by a man holding out a cup of silkworm larvae to the officer. "Please, eat and keep up the good work!" the man says. A lady next him agreed: "We love you, police officer!" Surely, even love is possible in this wondrous war zone.

But things aren't so lovely all the time. As the protests have stretched into weeks, the familiar protest tools such as steel pipes and rocks have also surfaced, spelling an omen for possible violence and bloodshed.

For example, Friday will mark the sixth anniversary of the death of two Korean middle school girls who were run over by a US armored vehicle - a very emotional issue for many South Koreans. What is also worrisome is that the month of June in South Korea is traditionally a season for annual labor protests.

Already some labor groups have designated June 16 as a walk-out day. Then comes June 25, the Korean War Memorial Day. It's likely that the rightist groups will take to the streets at that time to protest against the leftist groups, who they believe are fooled by Pyongyang and sympathetic towards North Korea.

There will be many more pickets, chants, roses, candles, silkworm larvae and DVDs - it won't be a quiet month.

Some people call the recent lack of violence in protests as "democratic progress". They also see it as a social experiment in South Korea's deepening democratic experience. Hardline "old school" protesters, however, view it as "a picnic that doesn't change the nation". They argue that a street demonstration should be more forceful, with a clear set of actions designed to get concessions from the government. They believe that after the decades of military rule ended, a noisy protest is still the best way to make one's voice heard.

Amid this raucous imbroglio, it was a foreigner who saw the silver lining. "I think it will eventually help the country's democratic progress. People will find a point of convergence where they can begin a constructive dialogue," said Mahbub Alam from Bangladesh. "They just need some time to sort things out."

Sunny Lee, a native of Seoul, worked for the United Nations and as a journalist and writer. Lee is a graduate of Harvard University and Beijing Foreign Studies University.