Author of "The Tragedy of Korea," "The
Unveiled East," "Through the
Hindenburg Line" etc.
1920
Preface
The peaceful uprising of the people of Korea against Japan in the spring of 1919 came as a world surprise. Here was a nation that had been ticketed and docketed by world statesmen as degenerate and cowardly, revealing heroism of a very high order.
The soldier facing the enemy in the open is inspired by the atmosphere of war, and knows that he has at least a fighting chance against his foe. The Koreans took their stand—their women and children by their side—without weapons and without means of defense. They pledged themselves ahead to show no violence. They had all too good reason to anticipate that their lot would be the same as that of others who had preceded them—torture as ingenious and varied as Torquemada and his familiars ever practiced.
They were not disappointed. They were called on to endure all that they had anticipated, in good measure, pressed down and running over. When they were dragged to prison, others stepped into their place. When these were taken, still others were ready to succeed them. And more are even now waiting to join in the dreadful procession, if the protests of the civilized world do not induce Japan to call a halt.
It seems evident that either the world made a mistake in its first estimate of Korean character, or these people have experienced a new birth. Which is the right explanation? Maybe both.
To understand what has happened, and what, as I write, is still happening, one has to go back for a few years. When Japan, in face of her repeated pledges, annexed Korea, her statesmen adopted an avowed policy of assimilation. They attempted to turn the people of Korea into Japanese—an inferior brand of Japanese, a serf race, speaking the language and following the customs of their overlords, and serving them.
To accomplish this better, the Koreans were isolated, not allowed to mix freely with the outer world, and deprived of liberty of speech, person and press. The Japanese brought certain material reforms. They forgot to supply one thing—justice. Men of progressive ideas were seized and imprisoned in such numbers that a new series of prisons had to be built. In six years the total of prisoners convicted or awaiting trial doubled. The rule of the big stick was instituted, and the Japanese police were given the right to flog without trial any Korean they pleased. The bamboo was employed on scores of thousands of people each year, employed so vigorously as to leave a train of cripples and corpses behind. The old tyranny of the yang-ban was replaced by a more terrible, because more scientifically cruel, tyranny of an uncontrolled police.
The Japanese struck an unexpected strain of hardness in the Korean character. They found, underneath the surface apathy, a spirit as determined as their own. They succeeded, not in assimilating the people, but in reviving their sense of nationality.