[Reportage] Martyrs of democracy laid to rest

Posted on : 2018-08-26 11:16 KST Modified on : 2019-10-19 20:29 KST
Gwangju’s May 18th National Cemetery a stark reminder of the cost of civil liberties
The grave of Choi Mi-ae
The grave of Choi Mi-ae

The graves of the dead move the souls of the living. In front of each of these historic graves is a photo of the person resting there, and the faces in those photos look vivid enough to speak. On July 10, the May 18th National Cemetery, located in the Unjeong neighborhood of Gwangju’s Buk (North) District, shimmered with midsummer greenery beneath an ash-gray storm cloud.

Choi Mi-ae was buried in that quiet place. In the photo, she is wearing a wedding dress, covered in a white veil. This is the woman that the people of Gwangju call the “bride of May.” That’s not a name of pleasure and joy, but of sadness and wailing. Choi was shot and killed by martial law troops responding to the Gwangju Democratization Movement, which began on May 18, 1980. Choi met her end on May 21, when she had gone out to meet her husband, a high school teacher. A bullet fired by a martial law soldier hit Choi in the head, and she died on the spot.

The pregnant 23-year-old had almost come to term, and the eight-month-old fetus died along with its mother. With no formal photograph to use, her family chose a snapshot from Choi’s wedding – the photo in the wedding dress – as her funeral portrait. Her husband’s longing for his lost wife is apparent in the engraving on the gravestone: “You were an angel, and we’ll meet again in heaven.”

 who was shot dead when she was 23 years old and pregnant by martial law forces. Behind her photograph is a card provided by students of Pungyoung Elementary School in Gwangju. (Kim Kyung-wook
who was shot dead when she was 23 years old and pregnant by martial law forces. Behind her photograph is a card provided by students of Pungyoung Elementary School in Gwangju. (Kim Kyung-wook

Shot down in their prime

Some of the photos in the cemetery depict fresh faces and high school uniforms. These are Park Geum-hui, in her third year at Chuntae Girls’ Vocational High School (today called South Jeolla Province Girls’ Vocational High School); Ahn Jong-pil, in his first year at Gwangju Vocational High School (today called Dongseong High School); and Park Hyeon-suk, in his third year at Songwon Girls’ Vocational High School (today called Shinui Girls’ High School).

After hearing a loudspeaker ask the people of Gwangju to give blood, Park Geum-hui had gone to the Gwangju Christian Hospital to donate her blood to the bleeding people of the city. On her way back home, she was fatally shot by the martial law troops. Ahn Jong-pil was shot and killed by the martial law troops while defending the South Jeolla Provincial Office on May 27 until the very last moment. Park Hyeon-suk was in a minibus on May 21 on her way to Hwasun, South Jeolla Province, to pick up coffins for the victims when she was killed by soldiers shooting indiscriminately in the village of Junam.

 staff reporter)
staff reporter)
Tombstones for those who went missing

Some of the graves have a tombstone but no tumulus. In the grave plot for the missing, there are 67 empty graves for those whose remains were never found. One of the missing is Lee Chang-hyeon, who was seven years old when the massacre occurred in 1980. Chang-hyeon went missing in Gwangju on May 19, 1980, and has yet to be found. For the past 38 years, his father, Lee Gwi-bok has roamed the country in search of his son’s grave. Gwi-bok long ago gave up his livelihood. Forty-four years old at the time of the massacre, Gwi-bok is now 82. At this rate, the two won’t be able to meet until the next life.

“I don’t think it will be long until we meet. When we finally meet, I hope we’ll never be parted again,” Gwi-bok said when he visited his son’s empty grave on May 13. The heartbroken father poured out his feelings on the headstone, which reads, “Two months after starting school at the age of seven, the paratroopers with their M16 rifles buried Chang-hyeon in his father’s heart. Rest in peace in Mangwol Neighborhood.”

The cemetery is full of the tragic and heart-rending stories of the people whose lives were taken by the unjust application of state power. It took a long time for the cemetery to be given an appropriate name. The new cemetery in the Unjeong Neighborhood was created through a special statement by then president Kim Young-sam on May 13, 1993.

“The victims in Gwangju in May 1980 were fighting for this country’s democracy, and today’s government is an extension of that. We will provide all necessary support to transform the cemetery in Mangwol Neighborhood into a shrine to democracy, which will include expanding the cemetery,” Kim said in the statement.

And so in 1994 the government began work on a new cemetery occupying a surface area of 167,770m2 next to the previous cemetery in Mangwol Neighborhood (the Gwangju Metropolitan Cemetery) where the bodies of the victims had been laid to rest, with construction coming to an end in May 1997. Many of the victims who had been buried at the cemetery in Mangwol Neighborhood were relocated to the new cemetery. But even then, the government had only provided the physical space for the cemetery without giving it any special honor.

The backside of the gravestone of Choi Mi-ae at the May 18th National Cemetery in Gwangju. The engraving is a message from her husband: “You were an angel
The backside of the gravestone of Choi Mi-ae at the May 18th National Cemetery in Gwangju. The engraving is a message from her husband: “You were an angel

A national cemetery for heroes of democracy

The new cemetery was upgraded to a national cemetery and named the “May 18th National Cemetery” in July 2002, during the administration of former president Kim Dae-jung. That was the same year that the April 19th National Cemetery in the Suyu neighborhood of Seoul’s Gangbuk District and the March 15th National Cemetery in Changwon, South Gyeongsang Province, were upgraded to national cemeteries.

As the concept of a national cemetery expanded from simply defending the nation to advocating democracy, the cemeteries of those who had been trampled by state violence or lost their lives resisting the state had gained the status as national cemeteries. In Jan. 2006, the South Korean administration under former president Roh Moo-hyun added the term “democratic” to their Korean name, replacing “national cemetery” with “national democratic cemetery” though they continue to be called “national cemetery” in English.

The largest of the three “national democratic cemeteries” is the May 18th National Cemetery. This cemetery holds the graves of 775 people, including those who were killed and disappeared during the Gwangju Massacre. Others who lie at rest here are Hong Nam-sun, an attorney regarded as the “righteous man of his day” and “the witness of the Gwangju Massacre,” as well as Ri Yeong-hui, a teacher remembered for his innovative ideas who was apprehended and tortured by the Korean Central Intelligence Agency (today called the National Intelligence Service) on suspicion of being one of the instigators of the Gwangju Democratization Movement.

The May 18th National Cemetery is divided into an entry area, a commemorative space, a place for paying respect, the gravesite itself and an area reserved for education and historical activities. Passing through the Gate of Democracy, the cemetery’s main gate, visitors reach Democracy Plaza (7,574m2). This is where various memorial services and burials begin and end. To the left of Democracy Plaza is the May 18 Memorial Hall, consisting of two stories aboveground and a basement level where people go to pay their respects. This is where visitors can learn about the heartbreaking stories of the victims of the massacre. On display here are the plastic sheets and bloody Korean flags in which the bodies of the slain were rolled up; items that belonged to the people guarding the provincial office who were killed when the martial law forces made a forced entrance; and some of the rifles, bayonets and nightsticks used by the martial law troops.

 and we’ll meet again in heaven.” (Kim Kyung-wook
and we’ll meet again in heaven.” (Kim Kyung-wook

Passing through Democracy Plaza, visitors reached the broad Plaza of Prayer (12,563m2). At the far end of this plaza is an altar where incense can be burned and floral wreathes laid down, as well as a 40m-tall memorial to the Gwangju Democratization Movement. Beyond the tower are the grave plots where the victims lie at rest.

The Gate of Democracy is 200m away from the memorial tower. “That’s the longest you have to walk to pay your respects at any national cemetery in the country,” explained an official at the cemetery’s maintenance office.

To the east of the Plaza of Prayer is a shrine in the shape of a dolmen that houses the funeral portraits of the victims buried in the cemetery, while to the west is the Gate of History. To the right of this gate is a separate study hall with educational activities for children and students.

Stepping through the Gate of History, visitors pass by an amphitheater that can host various cultural events and reach the old cemetery in Mangwol Neighborhood. The old and new cemetery look interconnected, rather than being separate spaces.

“I’d only heard about the Gwangju Massacre through books and movies, but coming here in person has showed me that what happened in Gwangju was even worse than that. Passing through the memorial hall and into the gravesite, my heart ached with sympathy for the victims. I guess it’s some relief that the government is taking care of this place,” said Kim Eun-ju, 36, who met the Hankyoreh at the cemetery.

The cemetery is a forlorn place, with no sounds but the occasional chirping of a bird in the distance.

By Kim Kyung-wook, staff reporter

Please direct comments or questions to [english@hani.co.kr]

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