Read A History of Korea Online
Authors: Professor Kyung Moon Hwang
Tags: #Education & Reference, #History, #Ancient, #Early Civilization, #Asia, #Korea, #World, #Civilization & Culture
A third vantage point, in fact, prefers to consider the dynastic turnover as representing neither a social nor an ideological revolution, but rather a historical moment limited in significance, at least initially, to the realm of politics. It required a combination, in other words, of a military strongman’s grab for power and a committed group of scholar-officials, like Ch
ng Toj
n, who had long attempted to implement major reforms, both in line with Neo-Confucian doctrine and in order to curb the abuses of the Buddhist establishment. The dynastic transition, then, represented the culmination of institutional reforms that had begun in the late Kory
dynasty to address decays in the socioeconomic and political
system. It took simply the decisive contribution of military and political power (and ruthlessness) provided by Yi S
onggye and his son, Yi Pangw
n, to bring this promise to fruition. Critics of this stance, which appears to emphasize continuity over historical rupture, have objected to what appears an insufficient consideration of the wider circumstances of political change, especially one as momentous as the toppling of a five-century-old dynasty. One could also levy the charge that this interpretation suspiciously resembles the one put forth by Japanese colonialists to justify the takeover of Korea in the early twentieth century: what happened between 1388 and 1392 was merely a drawn-out palace coup. Few historians would seriously dismiss the dynastic turnover as just a coup, but the resistance to this theory reflects a wariness of undervaluing the impact of large historical forces in what appears, on the surface, a monumental transition.
YI PANGW
N’S IMPACT
Whatever the answer to the question of the historical meaning of the dynastic transition, one must reserve judgment until considering more fully what took place both before 1392 and after this initial decade-long period of turmoil at the hands of Yi Pangw
n. Upon ascending to the throne to become King T’aejong (r. 1400–18), he placed the floundering new dynasty on firm footing as a Confucian polity. Under his direction, the Chos
n state established the basic structure of government that would endure until the late nineteenth century, especially in defining the state’s deliberative and administrative authority. These duties were headed, respectively, by the High State Council and the Six Boards, a kind of cabinet-like division of managerial responsibility. For the provinces, the early Chos
n reforms stretched the state’s administrative control to the farthest reaches of the realm and institutionalized the eight-province division of the country that still is in effect (at least in South Korea) today. T’aejong also took decisive steps to further the disenfranchisement of the Buddhist establishment, the only viable rival to the new dynasty in its claims to ideological supremacy. He did this by closing down many temple complexes
and appropriating the Buddhist clergy’s human and material resources. And further attesting to the state’s ambition for population control, he instituted the obligation to carry an “identity tag” for people traveling outside their home regions. Above all King T’aejong strengthened the position of the monarchy in relation to the bureaucracy, presenting himself as the model of both an authoritative and sagely Confucian monarch.
King Sejong the Great
Only one monarch in the long history of Korean royalty commands the universal appellation of “the Great” following his name: Sejong the Great, the fourth king of the Chos
n dynasty (r. 1418–50). Sejong enjoys a standing in Korean civilization that is akin to George Washington’s in the US, with his name attached to everything from universities and cultural institutions to civic organizations and state projects. That his portrait graces the most familiar South Korean currency, the 10,000
won
bill, is itself a reflection of his perceived supreme stature in Korean civilization. Most Koreans attribute to him what is widely considered the nation’s signature cultural accomplishment, the promulgation of the native Korean alphabet in 1446. They also know that he instituted innovative state policies and sponsored the invention of advanced scientific instruments such as the rain gage, water clock, and sun dial. He is seen, in short, as having come closest to the ideal of the sagacious monarch who promoted the welfare of the common people above all. But one can also summarize his accomplishments and historical significance with the claim that, more than anything else, King Sejong the Great completed the foundation of the Chos
n state’s great task of Confucianizing Korea.
Even the development of the Korean alphabet itself was part of Sejong’s wide-ranging efforts to enhance the state’s dissemination of Confucian teachings. Overlooked in the ceaseless and ubiquitous mythologizing of this great feat (there is even a national holiday honoring the alphabet) is the fact that Sejong, in addition to standardizing the Korean—that is, “correct”—pronunciation of Chinese characters, found the alphabet a potentially breakthrough instrument for public education. In his famous preamble to the “Proper Sounds to Educate the People” (
Hunmin ch
ng
m
), the document introducing the new alphabet, Sejong stated not only that the Korean language is different from Chinese, but also that the common (“ignorant”) people needed a simplified system of written communication. The Chos
n government in fact soon began to publish numerous didactic works featuring glosses with the new alphabet, all preaching the core values of Neo-Confucianism. And indeed, Neo-Confucian scholarship and education was the basic charge of the Hall of Worthies, a state research institute that Sejong established soon after ascending to the throne. Today there remain questions about the precise balance of contributions from the Hall of Worthies and King Sejong the Great to the alphabet project, but in accordance with the Confucian values that Sejong so eagerly sought to instill, there was no difference: he gets the credit.