A History of Korea (94 page)

WOMEN AND FAMILY: SEISMIC SHIFTS

One of the areas that underwent the most striking transformations involved the social and familial standing of women. The suddenness and scale of changes along these lines said more about the relatively slow pace of progress in gender relations before the 1990s, especially in the broader areas of customs and family law. In fact, until the closing decade of the twentieth century, family law had remained the legal realm that had most successfully resisted de-Confucianization, despite the many and rapid developments in political rule and socioeconomic conditions over the course of the modern era. But the industrialization and urbanization of the late twentieth century compelled the legal system to account, finally, for very different circumstances. In 1990, a major series of family law reforms was enacted to provide greater rights and authority to women. These included the possibility for women to succeed a descent line as family head, the legal recognition of children born out of wedlock, and equal rights for divorced women in child custody and property struggles. But as the strengthening voices
of women’s organizations made clear, these steps only partially addressed the realities of family life for females, and through these groups’ influence another major set of legal reforms was passed in the middle of the 2000s. These provisions attacked the last major vestige of traditional family law, that of the household registration system. They abolished the centuries-long prohibition of marriage between two people of the same “clan” identity, eliminated the six-month delay before divorced women could remarry, allowed children of divorced parents to take the surname of the mother or stepfather, and legally recognized the relationship between divorced mothers and their biological children.

As these moves suggest, the increasing incidence of divorce stood out as one of the most conspicuous phenomena in South Korean society. In fact, within a decade after the mid-1990s, South Korea became marked by one of the highest divorce rates in the world, which was probably not unrelated to other extraordinary changes: a precipitous drop in the birth rate, and an equally stark increase in the number of females who either did not get married or declined to have children after marriage. While traditionalists decried these developments and saw the legal reforms as only exacerbating the problem, many citizens perceived these measures as a reflection of social realities and as a release for women from the unequal burdens of Confucian family customs. Furthermore, these developments, so went the argument, represented only a portion of the larger phenomenon of Korean women belatedly gaining the freedom to pursue interests, careers, and family arrangements long enjoyed by modern Korean men.

The seemingly sudden emergence of prominent South Korean women in many social realms—with big business a conspicuous exception—seemed to support such a sentiment. Beginning in the late 1990s, but especially in the opening years of the next decade, Korean women took high-profile, leadership positions in academia, broadcasting, and government, with the realm of politics, in particular, accounting for a surprisingly large number of prominent females. Riding a wave of new female lawmakers and high government officials, a woman emerged as a top deputy to the successful presidential candidate of 2002, around the same time
that the daughter of Park Chung Hee, Park Geun-hye, began to make her mark in the conservative opposition party. In 2007, Park barely lost the primary election of this party, the Grand National Party, to the eventual president-elect, Lee Myung-bak, but she remained a powerful political figure. Finally, Korean women made a major splash in sports. Long having succeeded in international competition in archery and Taekwondo—well-established traditional sports—and, of all things, short-track speed skating, Korean women, in the most striking development of all, began to dominate international golf. Starting with the breakout of Pak Se Ri in 1998 through her victories in two major championships, Korean women flooded the upper ranks of professional golf. This sensation, while in many ways a testament to Pak’s influence, also defied easy explanation, since the sheer number of top players and their victories, given Korea’s short history in this sport, was staggering. But these remarkable developments also suggested that Korean women in the new millennium were poised to put their stamp on many more social sectors.

Popular culture, too, reflected the rapidly changing standing of women in South Korea. Much of the mass culture industry was driven by female consumers, although the portrayal of Korean women in films and television dramas often depicted a shallow preoccupation with material and consumer interests, especially among urbanites. But these depictions also showed the contradictions that tugged at the Korean female: economic limitations as well as consumerist freedom, familial duties as well as individual desires, social controls as well as opportunities. What the portrayals and consumption patterns of popular culture had in common was their reflection of a very different world for Korean women at the turn of the millennium. The perennially popular television historical dramas also reflected these changing circumstances. In revisiting familiar historical figures and imagining others, these dramas showed a strikingly
modern
Korean female in settings dating back centuries or even millennia—characters who came across as intelligent, savvy, and determined to overcome life’s limitations instead of being consumed by social constraints or fatalism. Perhaps the most representative of such a depiction was
the lead character in “Jewel in the Palace” (
Taejangg
m
), a tale of a sixteenth century woman who began as a palace servant and, through her wit, skills, and perseverance, rose to the position of royal physician and chef. This television series, when exported to other Asian countries, became an international hit, attesting both to the sophistication of the Korean entertainment industry behind the Korean Wave that washed over foreign shores, as well as to the social changes affecting women.

TOWARD A NEW ERA

While perhaps most conspicuous in their impact on women, the dramatic and rapid socioeconomic developments pervaded the country as a whole, which became increasingly driven by the lifestyles and perspectives of the younger generations. Until the 2007 presidential election, the generational divides of the new century proved most pronounced in electoral politics, as the so-called Generation X of twenty-somethings, as well as the 386-generation in their thirties and forties (see
Chapter 26
), together displayed a decidedly different perspective on a wide range of issues. The Gen-X youth, with their unprecedented spending power and cultural influence, often set the trends not only in consumer behavior, but also in the expansive realms of politics, civic movements, and national consciousness. Largely unbound by conventional imperatives, they proved deft in negotiating disparate cultural norms, social behaviors, and group identities. They were much more cosmopolitan than their elders, as South Korea’s Internet revolution placed the world at their fingertips, and as they were increasingly composed of people normally not even considered Korean. Indeed, the continuing rapid influx of migrants from other parts of Asia came to constitute a major component of any understanding of South Korea in the new millennium, and their impact on Korean society—from marriage patterns and social welfare to a reassessment of what it means to be Korean—promised to increase dramatically.

Such an eagerness to reconsider longstanding norms accounted for much of the extraordinary displays of both national pride and group
behavior during the 2002 hosting of the World Cup. The unofficial fan club of the national team called itself the “Red Devils,” and red shirts and other paraphernalia emblazoned with “Be the Reds” and other phrases in awkward English could be seen everywhere. Whether originally intended this way or not, the sentiment spread that this choice of nickname and slogan deliberately defied the association of the color red with North Koreans and communists from the days of anti-communist authoritarianism. The South Korean youth could thus been seen as proclaiming an identification with their northern brethren. More importantly, they were appropriating the symbols of the past to craft a new identity, even national identity, that moved well beyond the Cold War confrontation and forged a greater awareness of Korea’s ties to the larger world. As the national team—managed, significantly, by a Dutch coach—performed far beyond expectations, and as the streets filled with increasing swarms of people eager to partake in the euphoria, it became clear that these enormous gatherings were about much more than soccer; they were about the overwhelming desire to experience directly a new mode of social connection as it was being invented.

When the national team, a heavy underdog, beat Portugal, one of the World Cup favorites, to advance to the round of sixteen, these crowds erupted, and they grew even bigger for the next game against Italy, another perennial power. At the start of this game, the Red Devils constructed a gigantic sign on one end of the stadium reading “Again 1966”. This referred to the last time an Asian team shocked the soccer world with a win over an established World Cup power: North Korea’s astonishing victory over Italy in 1966. Alas, the South Korean team achieved a hard-fought, stunning overtime win over an exhausted Italian team, and the crowds erupted again. For the next game, the quarterfinal match against Spain, what seemed like a phenomenon that could not get any bigger did exactly that, as now millions of Koreans filled city plazas, parks, and other designated areas to channel their collective spirit to the national team. The game ended in regulation time with a scoreless tie, but the Korean team had escaped some close calls and seemed, finally, overmatched. When the extra period achieved no resolution, however, the game entered the penalty kick shootout
stage, when psychology is said to be more decisive than skill. Playing in front of a raucous home crowd in the city of Kwangju, the Korean team proved this aphorism true, as the team captain, Hong Myung-Bo, booted the ball past the Spanish goalkeeper for the game-winner. This moment, magically captured in a famous photo of Hong gliding with his arms outstretched to celebrate his kick, would represent the high point in the annals of Korean soccer, for South Korea would fall to Germany in the semi-final match, then lose again in the third-place match against Turkey. But the national team had taken the country on a rapturous journey over a four-week span, a symbolic capstone to South Korea’s revival from the depths of despair just five years earlier.

It is likely that the youth-led euphoria of the World Cup also played a role in the election later in 2002 of Roh Moo-hyun as the next president. Roh, the “liberal” candidate who came out of nowhere to gain the ruling party’s nomination, had faced long odds of winning. The people had grown weary of Kim Dae Jung’s administration, which was mired in corruption scandals, and the conservative opposition party’s challenger was a highly-respected, well-known figure. But, in addition to overwhelming support from the younger generations, who were cultivated and mobilized through an innovative Internet-centred campaign, Roh also rode the cresting wave of anti-American sentiment in 2002. When two school girls were accidentally run over by an American military vehicle in the spring, fierce protests and large-scale candlelight vigils arose to demand punishment of the soldiers involved. Even before this incident, one of Roh’s central campaign platforms had been a reconsideration of the American alliance, including greater assertiveness of South Korea’s autonomy and interests. That such a pledge enjoyed widespread support spoke to the way anti-Americanism, a very complex phenomenon that developed from many factors, continued to resonate among many Koreans. Still, it was never known with any degree of probability that Roh would pull out the victory, and when he did, South Korea witnessed the first transfer of power from one liberal administration to another.

Roh became the standard-bearer of the 386-generation’s ideals and interests, even though he himself did not belong to this
generation, and his broad appeal to younger, progressive Koreans generated a passionate following. In his governing approach, however, Roh, an inordinately introspective and intelligent man, also came across often as arrogant and aloof to both his political foes and the citizenry. This ensured that many of his signature reform efforts, which on the whole were targeted at greater socioeconomic equality and the “rectification” of historical imbalances, would not succeed. He was even impeached for abuse of power by the opposition-led National Assembly, though this transparently political move was quickly overturned by the Constitutional Court. His biggest failure, perhaps, was the defeat of his efforts to move the administrative capital from Seoul to a provincial area in order to relieve congestion and hyper-centralization. And almost inevitably, it seemed, his presidency lost its public support, coming to an end amidst a general sense of unease from stagnant job growth and, ironically, increasing bifurcation of the population according to wealth.

President Lee Myung-bak, former head of Hyundai Construction and mayor of Seoul, promised bold steps to provide “relief” from the policies pushed by ten years of liberal rule when he won the election in 2007. He also called for a sobering reassessment of the Sunshine Policy regarding North Korea and vowed to achieve rates of economic growth that would harken back to the Park Chung Hee era—without the dictatorship, of course. The judgment on his two main promises for change—one economic, the other diplomatic—awaits to be written. In fact, the most notable event involving his administration originated from his predecessor: the shocking suicide of Roh Moo-hyun in May 2009 amidst intensifying investigations by government prosecutors into suspicions of bribery during his presidency. As if by fate, the other main pillar of recent liberal politics, former president Kim Dae Jung, passed away three months later. The long-term response of South Korean society and polity to this extraordinary turn of events promises to color significantly the historical legacy of the new millennium’s first decade.