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Courtesy of Pascal |
By David A. Tizzard
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The new fish market into which the vendors are expected to move is described by some as a collusion between government and large financial enterprises. No longer a public market supported by officials and taxpayers' money to provide quality goods at reasonable prices, the responsibility has been left to capital. And this new building, into which many vendors have already moved, is described by those reluctant to change as being much smaller, more expensive, and designed with no understanding of what a living and breathing fish market is meant to be. A lack of ventilation and narrow corridors being top of the complaints about such ignorance.
This could just be understood as a normal story about capitalism and gentrification to which we are becoming ever accustomed. A process in which we tear down the old and create newer, smaller, and more expensive places. Bottom lines and profit graphs are argued and debated in boardrooms. This is the part of modernity that removes stories, characters, and traditions, and then substitutes them for lifeless, cookie-cutter objects that do not speak to us on a human level much of the time ― devoid of soul, alienated from reality. But if it was just that, many could provide rational and logical arguments about capitalism, profit, efficiency, and such forth. What does seem inexcusable, however, is the violence that takes place to make this happen. Such behavior seems immoral.
Today, if you could point to the citizens of Seoul being incredibly satisfied with their living conditions, some of what the victims at Noryangjin have seen might make sense from a utilitarian perspective. If you could say that housing and accommodation in Seoul are reasonably priced and available to those working, paying taxes, and trying to contribute to the nation, perhaps some would be more inclined to turn a blind eye and point to the positive effects. Omelets and eggs and all that. The reality however is different. Years of government plans, bills, policies, and platitudes have done nothing to slow or ease the pressure of gentrification. And while some of us just grumble about the inconvenience and rising prices, we are the lucky ones.
For there are those that lose their livelihood, their traditions, and the very things that define them as members of society. It might not be as glamorous as a tie-wearing conglomerate executive or as sexy as a pop starlet, but it was who they were and the role they adopted in society. Taking away these opportunities takes away more than just a job. In Korea, "sahoiejok ta-sal" is a term that refers to a social killing. Nobody takes responsibility for it. Society murders people. And of course, you can't put the whole of society in prison for it.
It often happens that the media will create a narrative in which those refusing to move from their existing places because of the pressures of modernization or gentrification are doing so because they are greedy. It's because they want more money and are not willing to move and help everyone else, we are told. The irony of this disseminated narrative is shocking. More so because many people immediately believe it to be true. Of course it can't be the large corporations who are greedy; it must be those poor people there suffering. They are the problem.
These are just words on a page. Jinu has been there with the people. He speaks of his respect for them, particularly their ability to show resistance in the face of this organized and hired violence. To this he stands in solidarity as an individual in Korea. Listen to him tell his story here. Or go down to Noryangjin for yourself to find out.
Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.