[Column] Until Chun bows his head in sorrow

Former South Korean President Chun Doo-hwan at a golf course in Gangwon Province on Nov. 7. (provided by Justice Party Vice President Lim Han-sol)

Why we should care about the former presidents’ brazen attempts to avoid legal punishment

Former South Korean President Chun Doo-hwan at a golf course in Gangwon Province on Nov. 7. (provided by Justice Party Vice President Lim Han-sol)

“Why should we care what a man says when he’s going on 90 years of age? It’s Alzheimer’s disease.” That’s what they’re saying. I actually had been ignoring him, never mind any questions of senility. When I saw his apricot-colored face at a wake for former President Kim Young-sam in November 2015, I thought, “It’s true what they say about how you can get called names and do terrible things and still flourish.” I briefly thought of the plaintiveness of “26 Years,” a movie about family members of Gwangju victims who tried to assassinate former President Chun Doo-hwan to settle the score. But then I thought, “What’s so important about the life of an old man under a political death sentence?”

Chun was recently caught enjoying a round of golf at Hongcheon in Gangwon Province. He seemed to be in very good health, and quite brazen. When asked by Justice Party Deputy President Im Han-sol whether he’d given an order to open fire on demonstrators during the Gwangju Democratization Movement, he mockingly asked, “Have you been in the military?” He also gave a point-by-point rebuttal, claiming he had “not even been in the position to give such an order.”

When he was brought to Gwangju District Court to face charges of defaming the late Catholic priest Cho Pius and angrily asked the assembled reporters, “What’s going on?,” I briefly found myself experiencing previously unknown feelings of compassion. When the court allowed him to be absent from subsequent hearings because of his senility, I shrugged it off as justifiable. Now I find myself asking: did they go too easy on him, falling for a carefully plotted fraud and forgetting all about his past crimes?

Nov. 11 saw the eighth hearing in Chun’s trial at Gwangju District Court on charges of defaming the deceased. Jeong Ju-gyo, one of Chun’s attorneys, stressed that his absence was “a matter of him forfeiting his own rights, not an obligation.” I could not erase the sense that we had been too complacent compared with Chun himself, who had hidden himself behind the logic of the law lest his permission to excuse himself from the proceedings be revoked and he end up called back into court after the images of him looking healthy and enjoying a round of golf went public.

Ex-president Chun Doo-hwan, who is on trial for defamation of the deceased, responds with irritation upon being questioned by reporters ahead of his trial at the Gwangju District Court on Mar. 11.

He was still “Mr. President.” I learned a number of things thanks to a News Tapa project tracing his past history. On Oct. 24, former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon was at a wake for former Prime Minister Lho Shin-yong when Chun arrived to share his condolences. “Hello, I’m Ban Ki-moon,” Ban said, to which Chun replied, “I know. Did you think I wouldn’t know Ban Ki-moon?” It was all so grotesque: Chun’s silence in the face of the reporters demanding an apology for the Gwangju massacre, and Ban with hands politely pressed together, lowering his head in respect to Chun as he got into his car. The fact that he was still being treated as “Mr. President,” the golfing with security guards in tow when his total assets are supposed to amount to just 290,000 won (US$249), the dodging of compulsory execution on his home in Seoul’s Yeonhui neighborhood despite 102.1 billion won (US$87.67 million) in penalties by claiming it was the property of his wife Lee Soon-ja and secretary -- he has flourished indeed, making a mockery of the public and courts in the process.

This year marks the 40th anniversary of the Dec. 12 coup d’?at that put Chun into power; next year is the 40th anniversary of the Gwangju massacre. There have been four attempts at investigations with the Gwangju hearings in 1988, the “righting history’s wrongs” effort in 1997, the truth and reconciliation commission investigation in 2007, and the Ministry of National Defense special investigation group probe in 2017. Yet Chun and his cohorts have only faced brief spells in jail, while the identity of the person who gave the order to open fire remains unknown and the allegations of secret burials remain an open question. New details have come to light about machine gun fire from helicopters and sexual assaults against civilians by martial law forces, yet the ones implicated have all claimed innocence.

Based on News Tapa’s report “Chun Doo-hwan and his supporters are living well,” it appears that neither Chun nor any of his 77 associates have acknowledged any wrongdoing. Chun and his cronies are being treated not as a rebel army but living lives of comfort as “Mr. President” and conservative veterans boasting assets in the billions to the tens of billions of won. Jeong Ho-yong, the former special forces commander, has a fortune of over 100 billion won (US$85.88 million). Heo Hwa-pyeong, the former security commander and chief of staff, serves as chairman of a foundation that Chun is believed to have established.

Defense Security Commander Chun Doo-hwan in 1979

Absurd demands for victims to simply forgive

They cannot even claim the virtue of silence. They have major players in the “Taegukgi demonstrations,” leading the charge in attacking the “left wing.” Park Hee-do, the former head of the 1st Special Forces Brigade, has stirred the pot with remarks about how “armed rioters have become ‘champions of democracy’ while members of the military have been stripped of their medals as ‘rebels’” and how the “country is falling into the rioters’ hands.” Heo has actually demanded that the victims grant forgiveness out of the goodness of their hearts. “When a victim forgives, it is the most beautiful thing,” he has said. “The public is moved when a parent visits the murderer of their child and apologizes.”

The claims of “North Korean involvement” and the denunciation of Gwangju victims’ family members as a “pack of monsters” did not just come into being. They thrive when we merely share the resistance and the stirring emotions of movies like “A Taxi Driver” or “1987: When the Day Comes” in the theaters without the tenacity to face off against the massacre perpetrators’ cash and break through the wall of effrontery from this robust reactionary network. The things that Im Han-sol and News Tapa are doing -- working nonstop to hold Chun Doo-hwan and his gang accountable -- need to become part of our day-to-day lives. Only then will they lower their heads, and at least keep their mouths shut.

By Shin Seung-keun, editorial writer

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