"Independence" is a relative term

Went to the Independence Memorial in Cheonan yesterday with my grandmother and my great-aunt. The memorial complex (eight museums, two massive sculptures, one tiled building the length of a soccer field, ponds with carp as long as my arm) was set in the mountains, which were the best part; the museums were sort of blah, but the scenery was beautiful.

We set out at 8 am, took two buses, and got to the Memorial around 11 am. Took a look at one museum, had lunch that my grannies had packed, and took a look at four more museums before calling it a day and walking out to an immense (one might even say continental!) sculpture signifying the tragic, extant division of Korea. There was a covered pavilion nearby, and we took a nap before heading back to Seoul. Lying on a wooden pavilion in the quiet mountains after a cultural day has got to be one of the best experiences ever.

As you might expect, the museums focused on the treatment of Koreans by the Japanese in the Japanese colonial era (1910-1945), and the struggle for independence. My own grandfather participated in the remarkable peaceful declarations of independence that took place across the country on March 1, 1919, which were brutally repressed by the Japanese government. The repression was virtually ignored by the rest of the world.

It's history like this that sets the ground for how Koreans react to current events. Koreans are very proud of Korea and being Korean, but they're no fools. This week's kidnapping, videotaping, and murder of Kim Sun-il, a 33-year-old translator, by terrorists in Iraq, is the talk of the nation. It's widely acknowledged that the additional 3,000 Korean troops being sent to Iraq are more a symbol of Korea's continued support for the United States than anything else. The dispatch is extremely unpopular.

When I saw my politically active friend Soonji on Monday, she asked me if I knew about Kim Sun-il. I said that, realistically, I thought he would be killed, and that realistically, it would have no affect on anything the Korean government did. She agreed. "I'm really worried about him," she said. "But," she continued resignedly, "Korea is just too weak." I reminded her that half of the American population, the half that voted for Gore, also felt disenfranchised and helpless. She nodded, and then said, "You'd better elect a new president."

From your lips to God's ear, my friend.