Our incredible experience was completely due to our tour guide: upon our arrival, we had gone to the information booth to ask for a pamphlet or whatnot and this man ended up being our personal English-speaking guide through the museum, monument, cemetery, and other sites. In fact, he attended the university where the protests began in Gwangju and gave his first-hand account of the events as we learned about them. He even gave us a private room to watch the English version of the history video played in the museum. We later found out he is an English teacher and just volunteers at the monument on the weekends and holidays, which I think speaks to the pride he takes in this piece of history.
Okay, here's my humble, abridged understanding of the history (read more here): Talks of democracy had popped up in South Korea for many years, but the assassination of authoritarian President Park Chung-hee in 1979 brought new fervor and urgency to the movement. The succeeding leader imposed emergency military law, shutting down the universities, banning any political activities, and taking control of the press.
Gwangju in particular was a hotbed of unrest due to past injustices mostly based on the city's location in the resource-rich southern province. The declaration of martial law further instigated the people of Gwangju, especially the students and professors at Chonnam National University (where our tour guide was a student at the time). As a result, they gathered peacefully at the university gates on May 18 to demonstrate and rally against the martial law. (Note: the Gwangju World Music Festival was held at this university; I walked through those gates.)
As the number of protesters grew, paratroopers were sent to Gwangju to suppress the rebellion and they quickly turned to violence, using clubs and bayonets on the unarmed citizens. The first civilian death was on May 20. His is the first grave in the cemetery. As word of the violence spread throughout the city, a parade of people, cars, and buses converged on the troops and were met with tear gas and weapons.
On May 21, the army was ordered to open fire on protesters outside the provincial office. Later that day, protesters began raiding police stations and army vehicles in order to arm themselves. As the peaceful protesters evolved into a militia, the troops retreated into the outskirts of the city and blocked off its supply routes and communication lines, leaving the people cut off from the outside world.
Our tour guide pointed out that at this time, the regime that was in power purported the events in Gwangju as an outburst of communist supporters, distorting the facts and watering down the violence. To this day, the numbers of the dead and wounded are disputed; "official" reports put the death toll just under 200, but some sources estimate between 1,000 and 2,000 people were killed over the 10-day period.
A huge source of (rightful) pride for the Korean people is that as the blockade drew on for seven days, the people came together in every way. Food was shared with nothing expected in return, committees formed to take care of the sick and wounded, and apart from the police and army supply stations, there was no looting or crime -- even the banks were left unscathed.
Finally, on May 27 the army gave the civilian militias an ultimatum: disarm yourselves or we will attack. The Korean people stood for what they believed and were soon overtaken. More than 1,300 people were arrested and held responsible for the uprising, including seven people put to death and 12 life sentences.
As the Korean people learned the truth about the events in Gwangju, the president's legitimacy wavered. Calls for democracy continued, and seven years later the country held its first election.
It was surreal to hear about such historic events from someone who witnessed them first hand, but it was an honor to learn about the courage and pride of these people. It's an experience I will not soon forget.
The memorial was designed to look like two hands holding an egg, a symbol of new life.
Our tour guide pointed out that at this time, the regime that was in power purported the events in Gwangju as an outburst of communist supporters, distorting the facts and watering down the violence. To this day, the numbers of the dead and wounded are disputed; "official" reports put the death toll just under 200, but some sources estimate between 1,000 and 2,000 people were killed over the 10-day period.
Gravestones mark the tombs of those killed in the massacre. There are also gravestones (sans tombs) for those missing. In a building off to the side, a portrait of each known victim is displayed.
A huge source of (rightful) pride for the Korean people is that as the blockade drew on for seven days, the people came together in every way. Food was shared with nothing expected in return, committees formed to take care of the sick and wounded, and apart from the police and army supply stations, there was no looting or crime -- even the banks were left unscathed.
Finally, on May 27 the army gave the civilian militias an ultimatum: disarm yourselves or we will attack. The Korean people stood for what they believed and were soon overtaken. More than 1,300 people were arrested and held responsible for the uprising, including seven people put to death and 12 life sentences.
As the Korean people learned the truth about the events in Gwangju, the president's legitimacy wavered. Calls for democracy continued, and seven years later the country held its first election.
It was surreal to hear about such historic events from someone who witnessed them first hand, but it was an honor to learn about the courage and pride of these people. It's an experience I will not soon forget.
The memorial was designed to look like two hands holding an egg, a symbol of new life.
Since the powers that be long denied the atrocities that took place in Gwangju, this memorial and cemetery was only built in 1997. Until that time, the bodies were carried in trucks to mass graves, then placed in a municipal cemetery. At long last, the victims have been acknowledged as such and are honored for their bravery with this memorial, cemetery, and museum in the city for which they fought.
Been there. I teared up. Twins.
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