The Manchu Invasion and the Modification of the Sinitic System

"Manchu Invasion" designates Qing (Manchu) China's attack on Chos?n-Dynasty Korea, which, led by Emperor Taizong himself with 100,000 troops under his command, took place in December 1636 (14th year of King Injo's reign). The ostensible pretext was to punish Chos?n for refusing to become a vassal state to the newly instated Qing Dynasty. The real motive, however, was to secure peace in the neighboring region before attacking the Ming Dynasty itself. The Chos?n court, after stubbornly but ineffectually holding out for the already declining Ming Dynasty in the name of loyalty, finally ended the war in the following January by surrendering to the Manchus. From then on, this short but humiliating war was to lie deep within the Korean psyche as a memory at best forgotten, one that would be much better if obliterated altogether.
Despite and because of a long history of foreign aggression, we also have an honorable tradition of voluntary "righteous armies" which would rise up in times of such invasions. For example, during the seven-year war (1592-1598) occasioned by Japan's attack, [3] the Korean people voluntarily rose up in arms throughout the country when the regular army fell. This in turn surprised the Japanese, who have no such heritage. Of course, it would be difficult to say that these righteous armies consisted solely of the populace. [4] ) As is known, the righteous armies active during the Japanese Invasion of 1592 "developed along a course where they were initially raised by prominent members of untitled provincial Confucian literati, then supported by their disciples and followers, finally to mobilize, in turn, these supporters' servants and local populace." In other words, these voluntary guerrilla forces were led primarily by members of the provincial aristocracy. Nevertheless, the two following facts should be enough to stress the fundamentally popular nature of these righteous armies: the untitled provincial Confucian literati were basically opposed to the meritorious subjects and conservative, titled court officials in the capital; and the populace fought against the Japanese invaders by joining these voluntary forces, not the government troops. At any rate, this righteous army tradition, coming back again and again as mass movements in times of national crisis up to today, is one of the rich sources of democracy in Korea. In the case of the Manchu Invasion of 1636, however, extant records hardly mention the existence or activities of these righteous armies. While this is partly due to the quick termination of the war, the main reason lay in the people's critical view of the war itself.
The court, whose unpreparedness and inflexible policies brought about the war, was then dominated by the S?in (Western) faction. This clique had come to power by getting rid of Prince Kwanghae and crowning King Injo. The deposed Prince Kwanghae possessed a sharp sense of reality thanks to his personal experience during the Japanese Invasion as a royal scion. With this perception, he had observed the rivalry between the Ming and Qing Dynasties in mainland China and had tried to maintain a diplomatic equilibrium between the two. The S?in regime, on the other hand, abolished the monarch's realistic line of diplomacy after dethroning him and returned to traditional nominalism. Of course, the court's indignation and shame at their recent defeat at the hands of the Manchus is understandable. As we all know, the Manchus were the Jurchens (Nurchens), a nomadic tribe originally from north of Korea. Successive dynasties of Korea had kept their northern borders safe by alternately pacifying and subduing the Manchus according to the situation. To have them suddenly grow in power and even demand tributes therefore must have been incredible to Koreans. We may term this the curious law of the steppes―once a national hero is born, a formerly weak tribe takes off all its pretense of obedience and overruns the once mighty Chinese empire. Perhaps the Soein faction desperately―but hopelessly―wished that they, by allying with the "civilized" Ming Dynasty, would be spared the fate of having to pay tributes to those northern "barbarians." Because of these factors, the populace could not view very kindly the war with the Manchus.
In Haebang Chonhu [ Before and After the Liberation; 解放 前後] (1946), a novella by Yi T'ae-jun [李泰俊], there is an interesting "theory" on the ingloriously ousted Prince Kwanghae:

"I see what you mean, sir. . . . [But s]ince you mention the importance of 'moral obligations', how about the case of Prince Kwanghae? Although we were aided by Ming China during the Japanese Invasion of 1592, didn't the Ming Dynasty request us for reinforcements when it in turn was beset by Emperor Taizong of the Qing Dynasty?"
"Indeed, that is when the doctrine of moral obligations was first begun in Korea."

"It being immediately after the Japanese Invasion, Korea had no ability whatsoever of helping the Ming and taking part in the battles. But court officials of the 'moral obligations' school believed that we could not simply watch with folded arms, even if participation in the war meant the fall of both Ming China and the Chos?n Dynasty. Others believed that, even if the nation were to be ruined and the king could no longer retain the crown, the populace, who had just gone through so much hardship at the hands of the Japanese invaders, could not be subjected to yet another tribulation. And wasn't Prince Kwanghae of this latter persuasion, adhering to it even at the cost of his own throne? In my opinion, Prince Kwanghae, who stood by his conviction that the populace could not be a pawn between the monarch and court officials, even to the extent of relinquishing his kingship, was far greater than his ministers, who cared only about those 'moral obligations' of theirs and had no regard whatsoever for the populace. Indeed, he was the true leader. . . ." [5]
Prior to the Liberation, [6] Hy?n, the protagonist, and Kim, an elderly functionary in the now-defunct local Confucian public school, were united in their anti-Japanese sentiments. In the memorable debate above, which takes place after Japan's defeat, however, they disagree, one urging cooperation between leftists and rightists and the other supporting only the now-repatriated Korean Provisional Government. [7] It is interesting to see the case of Prince Kwanghae being used here to back the former stance. This in turn leads us to the realization that, following the Manchu Invasion, the ideologization of jingoistic anti-Qing sentiments based on the Confucian doctrine of moral obligations was itself caused by a strong sense of otherness or difference held by the ruling class vis-a-vis the masses' criticism of the war.
What then of the fate of the Chos?n Dynasty itself after the humiliating Manchu Invasion, during which the ruling class displayed their incapability as never before? Following this war, there were great changes in the East Asian order: in Japan, the Tokugawa Shogunate emerged; in China, the Qing Dynasty replaced the Ming. The Chos?n Dynasty in Korea, on the other hand, stood firm even after two devastating wars. Why did this happen? Hatada Takashi [旗田巍] offers an interesting opinion:

Even though liberation from foreign oppression was always necessary to the development of Korea, that alone was not enough. . . . For example, Korea never developed to any great extent even after the Hideyoshi invasion [of 1592]. This, of course, is due to the degree of sheer devastation and the difficulty of recovery, but only partly so. . . . Liberation from foreign oppression was helpful only when it went hand in hand with a similar one within Korea. [8]

The above statement, however, seems to apply more to the Manchu Invasion than to the Japanese one. As I have already pointed out, the rise and activities of righteous armies during the conflict of 1592 unexpectedly empowered the populace of Korea. After the war, the ruling class of course sought to reestablish the ruling order by oppressing this newly awakened strength in the people; a task, however, that could not have been very easy. The Coup d'Etat of 1623, which overthrew both Prince Kwanghae and his realistic reforms, may perhaps be read as a telling sign of the crisis. In this respect, the Manchu Invasion was decisive. By going through the Manchu Invasion, Chos?n miraculously revived, escaping the crises that Japan and China were experiencing: the fall of the Hideyoshi regime and of the Ming Dynasty. If you let me stretch my imagination a bit farther, it may even be possible to say that the S?in faction was gambling in choosing to go to war with the Manchus. This is comparable to the ethnic Han ruling class of Ming China who, in order to secure their privileged status, collaborated with the foreign Manchus instead of Li Zi-cheng, a fellow Chinese rebel; and to Japanese fascists, who started and continued to expand a war, even at the cost of defeat, in order to prevent a socialist revolution at home.
It may then be possible to view all this as one long war―stretching from the complex Japanese Invasion of 1592, which involved the Ming and Qing Dynasties of China, the Chos?n Dynasty, and Japan on Korean soil, to the Manchu Invasion of 1636. In other words, this protracted war is comparable to the Thirty Years' War, which began in 1618 and pushed German history back by 200 years.

It was the Thirty Years' War which, by destroying the most crucial parts of agricultural production and countless cities at the same time, lowered the living standards of peasants, the poor, and city dwellers down to the lowest level of Ireland. [9]

These large-scale wars, which broke out almost simultaneously in East Asia and Europe, recall the so-called theory of general crisis in the 17th century. [10] As the sole victors in the Thirty Years' War were the feudal lords, the only victor in the Japanese and Manchu Invasions was the rigid political structure of Chos?n. This not only proved to be unfortunate for Korea but, in turn, was to harm East Asia as a whole. But, at this point, it must be remembered that China and Japan thus played a role in shaping history.
On the other hand, Manchu rule over China continued until the Republican Revolution of 1911. This actually limited China's own independent road to modernization amid the rapid development of capitalism in the West. Giving up ethnic distinctions, the Qing Dynasty accepted anyone as "Chinese" as long as he upheld Chinese traditions and institutions. In short, by quickly relinquishing their nomadic roots and adopting Chinese ways, the Manchus successfully changed their image and thus were able to rule China effectively. This stands at a marked contrast to the Mongol rulers of China (Yuan Dynasty), who had stressed their ethnic and cultural roots far more than the Manchus. As a result, the Manchus were able to win over Han Chinese intellectuals, thus effectively ruling China through a dual Han-Manchu system. However, it is interesting that this Manchu effectiveness was to be the eventual downfall of traditional China.

In studying their achievement, however, we cannot help wondering to what extent their very success in maintaining traditional order may have been a factor in its later collapse. So great was the prestige of the old order, so steady the balance which had been maintained among its various parts, that radical, thoroughgoing change of Chinese institutions and values could not easily be imagined―least of all by Manchu rulers who had taken over the whole imperial system intact from their Ming predecessors. The Manchus were successful as inheritors, not innovators. [11]

What would have happened had the Qing Dynasty reformed, even thoroughly deconstructed, the Sinitic system instead of inheriting it? The whole of East Asia then would have developed in an interesting direction. In particular, the Choseon government's strange equilibrium between obedience to and revenge upon Qing China, which helped to maintain the reestablished regime, would have been difficult.
Nevertheless, Manchu rule over China was to bring about subtle changes abroad as well. That a group of peripheral nomads had destroyed the Ming Dynasty, the last legitimate inheritor of the Chinese tradition, was a shocking event; consequently, the East Asian Sinitic order began to crack. Chos?n, by continuing to use Ming-Dynasty reign-years, secretly boasted its status as the "true" inheritor of the Chinese civilization while, on the surface, paying tributes to the Qing Dynasty. The same phenomenon occurred in Japan and Vietnam as well. This is positive because it signifies the disintegration of a universal medieval order and the emergence, however perverted, of a separate and nationalist awareness. It must be remembered too, however, that this sense of anti-Qing "Chineseness" acted as a defense ideology which tended to clamp down on reforms and changes within the respective nations. Consequently, China, Japan, and Korea began to pursue even more rigorous isolationism from this point on, shutting out relations to all but the ruling class of one another. [12] This resulted in the three nations' subsequent loss of flexibility in dealing with Western capitalism. The fact that such isolationism was fanned by the two wars which had taken place on Korean soil reconfirms how harmful they were, not only to Korea herself but to China and Japan as well.
In this context, Crown Prince Sohy?n (1612-1645), the precocious pro-Western reformist, is an interesting figure. His short but brilliant life was not unlike that of Prince Kwanghae. The heir apparent was taken to Manchuria as a hostage following Korea's humiliating defeat in the Manchu Invasion. Against the expectations of King Injo and the rigid ruling class, however, he returned a realist bent on reforming Korea instead of revenging himself on the Manchus.
An especially noteworthy feature of the royal scion's hostage years is that he associated with Johannes Adam Schall von Bell [Chinese Tang Ruo-wang ; 湯若望], a Jesuit missionary, in Beijing in 1644. Posted to China in 1622 as a replacement for Matteo Ricci [Chinese Li Ma-dou ; 利瑪竇], Schall von Bell was an adept astronomer of German extract. Moreover, he possessed enough political acumen to switch his allegiance quickly to the newly established Qing Dynasty once the Ming fell. Indeed, the dynastic transition that took place in mainland China in 1644 was a dramatic incident full of reversals. When rebel troops, led by Li, captured Beijing, Emperor Yizong committed suicide, thereby ending the 300-year-long history of the Ming Dynasty. However, these Han Chinese rebels were immediately attacked by the Later Jin (Qing) troops, which swept down all the way from Manchuria under the leadership of Wu San-gui, a former Ming army general who had surrendered to the northern nomads. Li lost and the whole of China was now in the hands of the Manchus. On September 19, 1644, Emperor Shizu of the Qing Dynasty marched into Beijing. A few days later, Crown Prince Sohy n too left Shenyang (Mukden), his residence-in-exile, and arrived in the new capital of the Manchu Dynasty, at last to be granted permission for return to Korea. This would mean that his stay in Beijing amounted to no more than 70 days. [13] What would have this lone prisoner from a small kingdom dreamed of in the historic moment of the reunification of the Chinese landmass by the Qing Dynasty after large-scale battles? During those 70 days in Beijing, the Korean heir apparent was captivated by Western science, thanks to Schall von Bell. When, in a bid to convert Chos n to the Catholic faith effortlessly, the Jesuit missionary sent sacred objects and scientific texts and equipments as farewell gifts, the wise Crown Prince politely returned the religious objects and only took the scientific equipments and books home:

I intend not only to introduce them [scientific equipments and texts] to the court but also to publish and spread them to learned men upon returning to my kingdom. Before long, then, men of learning will be grateful for the blessing of thus being led from a desert to the palace of erudition; my people too will come to realize that this has been made possible by Western science. [14]

The passage above is an excerpt from the letter that Crown Prince Sohy?n, returning to Chos?n after 8 years of captivity, sent to Schall von Bell upon receiving Western science books and equipments as farewell gifts. There of course is the Korean heir apparent's limitation in not fully realizing the true nature of the Society of Jesus. Nevertheless, his precocious dream of breaking through the suffocating rigidity of the Sinitic system and becoming Westernized is simply beautiful. This dream of becoming free from the specter of East Asia and entering "the palace of erudition [ le palais de l' rudition ]," however, was shattered by the royal scion's still unresolved death only 2 months after homecoming. [15] It is indeed ironic that his unrealized dream should have returned in the debased form of the blind pursuit of things Western, which has been pervasive since the Meiji Restoration (1868).

The Treaty of Kanghwa Island and the Japanese Challenge Against the Sinitic System

240 years after the outbreak of the Manchu Invasion, the Treaty of Kanghwa Island was signed between Chos?n and Meiji Japan in 1876, yet another Py?ngja year. Even though the treaty outwardly announced that "Chos?n, as an independent nation, enjoys rights equal to those of Japan" [朝鮮國自主之邦 與日本國 保有平等之權], it was a typically unequal one. Moreover, it was brought about by the so-called Uny? Incident (1875), in which Japanese warships attacked Korean guards and civilians. Japan was assiduously applying her own experience of signing unequal treaties with the West ever since having been forcibly opened up at Commodore Perry's gunpoint (1854).
By thus opening herself up to the world through the Treaty of Kanghwa Island, Korea completed the chain of world markets. Indeed, Korea was the last nation to join the global capitalist market, already having repulsed Western attempts at opening her up: she had defeated the French naval fleet in 1866 (Foreign Disturbance of 1866); burned down the General Sherman , an armed American merchant ship, in the same year; and had fought against American troops on Kanghwa Island in 1871 (Foreign Disturbance of 1871). It is odd then that Korea should have been finally opened up not by a Western power but by Japan, a nation which Koreans have traditionally looked down on as "barbaric." In fact, there was hardly a country opened up by a non-Western power outside the West.
Why did Chos?n, which had stubbornly ignored the West's demands that she open her ports, succumb so easily to Japan? Of course, the fact that the West, with Japan as its proxy, incorporated Korea into the world capitalist system in turn attests to the degree of Koreans' will to oppose any efforts at infiltration. What most contributed to this, however, was the changes in the political situation within Korea resulting from the fall of Grand Regent H?ngs?n (Yi Ha-?ng [李昰應]) from power (1864-1873). It was he who had boldly fought against French and American attempts at intrusion. The rise and fall of the Grand Regent's regime therefore cannot be considered separately from the overall threat of Western capitalism then encroaching on East Asia. The Franco-British capture of Beijing (1860) greatly shocked not only China herself but also Korea and Japan, both of which were still within the Sinitic system. The ensuing sense of crisis probably enabled the Grand Regent to assume political power under the banner of "Protect Orthodoxy and Reject Heterodoxy" and govern more or less effectively. Such attempt at blocking out Western capitalism by partly reforming a medieval system, however, was destined to fail. It may be possible to say that, in the moments of victory over Western encroachments in 1868 and 1871, the seeds of the Grand Regent's fall were sown. In addition, the Meiji Restoration, which was a case of successful political reform―whether it was for better or for worse―resulting from the sense of crisis raised by the Chinese situation, may also have contributed to the fall of the Grand Regent. Pak Kyu-su [朴珪壽], the erstwhile governor of P'y?ng'yang who had contributed to the defeat of the General Sherman , actually played an active role in the signing of the Treaty of Kanghwa Island. As we can see from this fact, political reform through opening up to the world was in fact becoming a possible and major option. From now on, the winds would blow from Japan, not China.
Let us here go back to our question. Even with the fall of the Grand Regent and even with Qing China's implicit recommendation for the peaceful signing of the Treaty of Kanghwa Island (for she feared any armed conflict in East Asia, which could result in unwanted Western interference), [16] why did Korea, so strongly against opening up [17] to the West, open her doors so easily to Japan? To the Grand Regent and those against opening up, the Korean government confirmed that the Treaty of Kanghwa Island would only be a "continuation of established relations" and that the "Western barbarians" would be closed off. Of course, it is possible to condemn such a logic, one that differentiates between Japan and the West, as an "ineffective excuse to those against opening up" on the government's part. I, however, prefer a more active interpretation. The expectation that the successful Japan, despite apprehensions, would provide lessons and tips on how to deal with the West and, at the same time, retain national independence and even go on to reform the system may have underlain the fact that Korea sought to renew traditional diplomatic relations with her eastern neighbor. However, to quote Sun Yat-sen (Sun Wen [孫文]), Japan became no "zenith of Oriental statecraft" but a "running dog of Western expansionism," a proxy or subordinate partner to the expansion of Western capitalism. Although Fukuzawa Yukichi [福澤諭吉] clamored that Japan should block out "bad friends of the East," it is indeed ironic that the supposed friend should have turned out to be the enemy. But, after all, no one can be blamed. We can only regret the ineffectuality of the Korean government.
In this respect, a remark by Ch'oe Ik-hy?n [崔益鉉] (style: My?nam [勉庵]) of the "Protect Orthodoxy and Reject Heterodoxy" school that Japan and the West were one and the same thing rings true. [18] He stressed that the signing of the Treaty of Kanghwa Island could never be a "continuation of established relations" because the encroaching Japanese, now in Western suits and armed with Western arms and steering Western vessels, were not the "Japanese barbarians" of the past but already Westernized "beasts." The term "beasts" here is none but a curse from a member of the "Protect Orthodoxy and Reject Heterodoxy" school directed at modern capitalism. Indeed, despite the stifling isolationism underneath, Ch'oe must be acknowledged for his astuteness in thus distinguishing the Japan of post-Meiji Restoration from that of the past. In addition, judging from his remark, there must have been arguments likening the Treaty of Kanghwa to the Manchu Invasion of 1636 in some quarters. Just as the relations between Korea and Qing China had actually stabilized after the signing of a peace treaty, some speculated that a similar treaty signed with Japan―i. e., the Treaty of Kanghwa Island―would bring about the same benefits. Regarding this argument, however, Ch'oe strictly differentiated between the Manchus, who were but "barbarians" in the medieval sense, and the Meiji government on the basis of his theory of "beasts" mentioned above. In other words, he was aware that the Japanese who had appeared in the sea in front of Inch'eon in 1876 were different from the Japanese pirates who had plagued Korean shores on countless occasions before the modern era.
Indeed, the "new" Japanese went directly against Koreans' half-apprehensive expectations and blatantly proved themselves to be "beasts." Belatedly realizing this, the Chos?n government then tried in vain to check both Japan and Qing China by signing treaties with the United States, Great Britain, Germany, and other Western nations in 1882 (19th year of King Kojong's reign). This, however, once again proved to be a misjudgement, for the West, in particular the United States and Great Britain, had actually trained Japan as their "police dog" by encouraging her to invade Korea and China. Nor was this limited to the West, as Russia's double-sided strategy regarding the First Sino-Japanese War (1894) shows. In fact, Russia understood this war as something she herself had "incited by using Japan as the instrument". [19] Her aim was to "rid Korea of Chinese feudal warlords by instigating Japan to attack China while appearing to appease the latter and, moreover, to accomplish [her] intention of invading the Korean Peninsula and northeastern China while both Japan and China [we]re exhausted from the war." [20] Contrary to Russian expectations, however, Qing China lost the war all too soon and the traditional Sinitic system, which hitherto had maintained international order in East Asia, crumbled. As Engels had predicted in his letter, the First Sino-Japanese War brought about "the complete disintegration of all traditional systems in old China [ der vollige Zusammenbruch des ganzen traditionellen Systems im alten China ]." What would have happened had Japan thoroughly disintegrated the Sinitic system and considered in earnest her role as the builder of a new order that would bring fundamental peace to East Asia on the basis of a theory of genuine solidarity in Asia? But Japan threw away this golden opportunity herself. Nor is it necessary to repeat here how her continued attempt to supplant the Sinitic system and become the master of Asia resulted in a global catastrophe. This in turn proves that the Korean Peninsula is one of the most sensitive and difficult locations in terms of the contradictions in world history, and we can say that the nature of the Meiji Restoration is implicated here.
While I have no wish to eulogize the Meiji Restoration as the standard model of modernization outside the West, nor do I wish to downplay its importance. We must turn our eyes to the fact that, although the Restoration was initiated by the government, top-down, some 30,000 people met their political deaths in the process. [21] Also, we must pay attention to the fact that, "positively or otherwise, the Meiji Restoration [was] the only example of a fundamental national reform throughout the history of Japan." [22] That the Restoration succeeded despite strong opposition from the old order and Western threats is surprising. When we recall that the Coup d'Etat of 1884 in Korea and the Coup d'Etat of 1898 in China, both of which were reforms modeled on the Meiji Restoration, failed, Takeuchi Yoshimi's [竹內好] comment that the Restoration―whose process continued until the second decade of the Meiji era, with countless reversals―was more important than the nation which it created is significant.
Why then did Japan, which had accomplished such a difficult task, come to invade Asia? Here lies the fundamental problem of the Meiji Restoration. The main force behind this reform came from the opposing aristocracy, who had almost no ties with the bourgeoisie that emerged at the end of the Shogunate. This naturally brought about a tendency toward nationalism, against "the dissolution of the empire," from early on―nay, from the very beginning. As a result, these aristocrats discovered themselves in a contradiction of "refusing to rely on the populace, who ardently wished to be freed from feudalism . . . and seeking to improve their position through a compromise with feudal lords." [23] Such an anti-democratic spirit within coincides with the invasion of Asia without. As Yoshida Sh in [吉田松蔭] said, "the tragedy of Japan possessed of only an anti-Asian mentality and no awareness of herself as a 'member of Asia'" [24] was thus born.
The so-called theory of conquering Korea is especially notorious. Although it was clearly advanced by Saig Takamori [西鄕隆盛] upon the Choseon government's closure of the official Japanese residence on her soil in 1873, this idea can be traced to the last years of the Shogunate. Cornered by both Western pressure and anti-Western factions, the Shogunate found its breakthrough, quite suddenly in the early 1860's, in the idea of conquering Korea. In other words, it sought to reestablish its dictatorship by channeling antagonistic fiefs' military power abroad. [25] What must be noted here, however, is the fact that the Meiji government almost wholly inherited the theory of conquering Korea, which had been formulated as the Shogunate's defense ideology. When we consider that, by nature, domination over domestic politics was directly related to the establishment of military authority in the Meiji state, it becomes obvious that power struggle among the ruling class cannot but be linked to the question of which party takes the initiative in the encroachment on Korea. Saig? 's theory of conquering Chos?n was thwarted by Iwakura Tomomi [岩倉具視] in 1873, something that had been quite foreseeable. However, this of course does not mean that Iwakura was fundamentally against the idea of conquering Korea. Indeed, after Saig? 's fall, Japan at last succeeded in compelling the Chos?n government to sign the Treaty of Kanghwa through the Uny? Incident. [26]
In other words, militarism developed from early on in Meiji Japan because Yoshida's direction of seeking compensation from Japan's subordination to the West in the conquest of neighboring Asian nations overwhelmed Hashimoto Sanai's [橋本左內] dream of a "small and independent Japan" through a deft use of the balance of power among Western powers. Of course, even when the "special condition of East Asia where China served as a barrier to Western pressure and Korea, which had managed to avoid direct Western invasion, was to be dominated by Japan instead" [27] is taken into consideration, the fundamental reason for and problem of Japan's premature militarism must lie in "the emperor system, which justifies domestic class oppression." [28]
Immediately after the Liberation, Im Hwa [林和] pointed out that Japan's rule over Korea had been closer to primitive states' conquests rather than to colonial domination by modern imperialist nations, citing the backwardness of Japanese imperialism as the fundamental cause. [29] Quite interestingly, Morishima Michio [森島通夫] recently made a very similar remark. He too refers to the backwardness of Japanese imperialism, which enslaved the peoples of various Asian nations it conquered, as the cause of its brutality:

As such, this "imperialism" of Japan can never be imperialism as defined by Marx, Lenin, or Sweezy. This is due to the fact that Japan began her overseas invasion when her economy was but in its childhood and youth; thus, her "imperialism" was not one brought about by the stage of monopoly capitalism, which in Marxism is defined as the highest stage of capitalism. [30]

Of course, we cannot disregard the fact that such backwardness of Japanese imperialism had an unexpected "plus" effect of development on colonial Korea. Nevertheless, on the whole, Japan's domination affected her western neighbor negatively as exploitation. Indeed, the sheer brutality of Japanese imperialism actually worsened as the Land of the Rising Sun expanded her dominion over Asia, with her ruthless rule over colonial Korea as the axis. In the end, this international catastrophe afflicted not only the conquered nations but also the populace of Japan herself, the aftermath of which is to be observed even today in various nations in the region including, especially, the divided Korea.

In Yet Another Pyoengja Year: The Korean Peninsula and East Asia

It seemed as though 1996, the last Py?ngja year in the 20th century, would pass in relative peace, without any cataclysmic change such as the Manchu Invasion of 1636 or the signing of the Treaty of Kanghwa Island. However, a small "war" [31] broke out on the East Sea. [32] At first, this incident seemed likely to provide reactionary conservative elements in our society with a pretext for yet another ideological onslaught. But, in the end, everything was as usual after a "lop-sided equilibrium" had somehow been reached. In the past, such an incident would surely have created something of a national frenzy. Judging from the relatively composed reaction, I felt that changes both within and without Korea had brought about certain strength. Even the public took the incident calmly, without going on those notorious spending sprees for canned goods and instant noodles against "emergencies." While the South Korean government has criticized the general mood as insensitivity to national security, that may not be the only answer. Perhaps our society has matured enough that it is no longer easily swayed by the smallest "incident"?
Nonetheless, this does not at all mean that we are fundamentally free from crisis. Despite predictions that, in this post-Cold War era, the possibility of large-scale wars is almost nil due to the dissolution of multinational alliances, we are actually witnessing a greater number of local and regional conflicts. Nor has the Korean Peninsula ever been eliminated from the list of such areas of potential hostilities. Here, two governments with different ideologies stand in opposition to one another, with the terribly unstable demilitarized zone (DMZ) as the borderline. Here, two "nations" immersed in the myth of a "single nation" have closely guarded against each other for nearly half a century after a bloody war. How precarious, then, is the outward "peace" on the Peninsula? How can we permanently delete the entry "Korean Peninsula" from the list of areas of potential conflict? The solution would lie in the search for a way of creatively and mutually assimilating the two differing systems, which, each possessed of potentials for conflicts within, hitherto have depended on one another in mutual hostility. This is why a fundamental review of the various mechanisms that have moved our society since the modern era is necessary.
From early on, Korea, under the double burden of the centuries-old Sinitic system and direct rule by Japan's imperialist fascism, which challenged the Sinitic system, fell into a kind of mental exile from the all-too-troublesome Asia. Amid such a situation, a reformist tendency toward the Western model, away from the "bad neighbors" of Asia who became worse as relations wore on, naturally came to dominate our society. Kim Ok-kyun [金玉均], an instigator of the Coup d'Etat of 1884, thus pledged: "If Japan is to be the Great Britain of Asia, Korea must become its France." [33] Generally, he is judged to have incited the Coup on the model of the Meiji Restoration. Of course, the statement quoted above may be seen simply as the expression of a desire to turn Korea into a strong nation such as France, especially since Japan aimed at becoming the Great Britain of Asia. I, however, would like to muse on this "vow." In Meiji Japan, Great Britain was hailed as the "home of a stable constitutional monarchy." But what is interesting here is that there was "little awareness" among contemporary Japanese of the fact that this British compromise had been "realized as the fruit of the radical revolution of the 17th century," during which even the monarch himself had been executed. [34] On the contrary, the Japanese image of France, a nation thrown into the maelstrom of revolution later than Britain, was more radical. Did Kim, then, dream of establishing a great republic? Although, considering the objective circumstances of contemporary Chos?n, it is doubtful that such a dream could ever have come true, we cannot deny that he was even more pro-Western and reformist than Crown Prince Sohy?n.
What must be noticed, however, is that, in our society, brilliant pro-Western reformists such as Kim have been the exception. Rather, half-baked reformists have been the rule. Indeed, the blind pursuit of things Western on the part of these half-assed reformists, who return again and again in a different garb while compromising with the reactionary conservatives, may be said to be the basic mechanism that moves South Korean society even today.
On the other hand, Marxism, or more exactly, Leninism or Stalinist socialism, too has exerted a strong influence on our society as a counter to the Western model ever since the Russian Revolution (1917). The unusual enthusiasm for this alternative comes from a disappointment in the West. Our Leninists or Stalinists realized time and again the painful fact that the West is the supporter and friend of Japanese colonialists and successive military dictators in South Korea, not the friend of her people. Consequently, they dreamed of an exit from the capitalist world order to "post-modernity," skipping or abbreviating as much as possible a process of modernization based on the Western model. This romantic and rather fragile negation of modernity, based on a facile understanding, in turn ties in with the ideology of the "Protect Orthodoxy and Reject Heterodoxy" party. Nevertheless, it too was ideological implantation after all and hence but another mutation of pro-Western reformism.
Consequently, coming up with an alternative to these two models of modernization has been a task central to democratic-nationalist movements in South Korea. Our era, which has witnessed the transformation of Eastern European "post-modernity" to a dystopia of disillusions, abounds in arguments that eulogize Western European modernity as the end of history. But it would be extremely naive of anyone to believe that capitalism, which has enthroned capital as the new emperor, is the last force that can realize a utopia on earth. Early on, Lukacs called the capitalist city "this new Dantean purgatory." If anyone earnestly ponders on a truly human and humane life in this purgatory of South Korean society today―which, equipped with a turbo engine, continues its ugly process of urbanization―how could he or she not dream of a "heteropia" or "another place"? Thanks to the demise of socialism, it is all too clear now that neither Eastern European socialism nor its East Asian variants was capable of truly overcoming Western European modernity. And it is at this very moment too that we most keenly feel the problematic nature of Western modernity. The awareness of our activists should have been duly heightened.
North Korea will be the first test for our democratic-nationalist movements. Movements that either emphasize the transformation of South Korea above the North Korean issue or try to "liberate" South Korea, with the North as the base, have quickly lost their validity. At this point, then, the problem of wisely countering the question of national division is to be the main issue in our social movements.
It is here that Paik Nak-chung's theory of the national division system comes into play. This praxis-oriented discourse is based on the awareness that the division of the Korean Peninsula is "a quasi-system in which mutual distrust, estrangement, and conflicts themselves insidiously contribute to the maintenance and reinforcement of the national division." [35] It then suggests a popular reform movement led by the populace of both Koreas, one that transcends the military unification of Vietnam or the absorption of East Germany by West Germany. As a result of such creative movements, the theory goes on, the reunified Korea, "while still a part of the capitalist world economy," will in the long run "contribute decisively to the overall transformation of the capitalist world order itself" by establishing "a capitalist society where individual freedom and equality are extended," thereby achieving a global significance. [36]
I highly esteem the acute awareness underlying the theory of the national division system. However, there is one question: whether or not this vision of the reunified Korean society is too cursory. Paik's judgement, of course, is very realistic. I myself am yet at a loss as to devising any alternative solution to the capitalist civilization. Nevertheless, I would like to raise a question regarding the role of (East) Asia as a medium in the creative process of overcoming the national division of Korea. We have already seen how Japan, divorced from Asia yet a part of it, inflicted pain and destruction on the peoples not only of Japan herself but Asia and the whole world in the name of Pan-Asianism, while actually trying to conquer Asia in place of the West. Moreover, when we think of Korea's mental exile from Asia and consequent blind pursuit of the West up to the present, I must express apprehension. Our most urgent task is to envision a new role for Korea as a part of (East) Asia: that of formulating the principles of a new world order based on a critical understanding of―yet countering―the hard reality of the capitalist civilization.
However, it has been the general trend among South Korean intelligentsia to criticize immediately any mention of return to (East) Asia as voluntary surrender to the so-called theory of cultural clashes, whereby the United States is trying to assert and strengthen her supremacy over the world in new ways. Although such criticism is not without validity, we must remember that, despite differences in the degree, both the West and Russia have consciously or unconsciously played havoc with any such call for solidarity among Asian nations. Nor is this interference expected to change a great deal, now or in the future. Admittedly, we cannot blame only the West or Russia, for such intrusion was brought about by the fierce competition and struggle among the nations of East Asia themselves, with the Korean Peninsula as the prime booty. But, of course, this call for return to Asia is no futile incitement of Asia to unite and replace the white race as the new master of the world. Recently, I read with interest a Korean translation of Perry Anderson's Passages from Antiquity to Feudalism . [37] On the premise that the developmental process from ancient slavery to medieval feudalism, finally to modern capitalism―what we have accepted without any doubt as the universal rule of world history―was in fact a historical experience particular to Western Europe, Anderson contends that, in a strict sense, a mode of production based on slavery or feudalism never appeared in Eastern Europe and Asia. Although I at first suspected this claim as return to the Eurocentric proposition of the so-called Asian stasis or stagnation, an effort to exclude Oriental aspects, it does raise a valid point in relation to Korean history. It is no longer necessary to search in vain for traces of slavery or forcibly to establish a "Korean" brand of feudalism. Just as Anderson, whose emphasis is on the Western European difference or particularity in historical experience, implies that "the socialist revolution in the West could not model itself on the Russian Revolution or Eastern Europe," we too should shed ahistorical universalism and learn to respect the unique historical experience of Korea and other East Asian societies.
Another criticism commonly levelled at any theory of East Asia is that Korea is unwittingly beguiled into supporting the strategies of China or Japan. Indeed, recent years have seen the rise of "neo-Sinicism" and a "low-keyed" Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere in China and Japan, which, in a strange conjunction with the postmodern theory of the West, offer "Asia" as the cure-all for overcoming the capitalist civilization. In reality, however, they are but thinly disguised attempts at regaining hegemony. Moreover, because this trend has clearly surfaced even in certain quarters of South Korean society thanks to a "revaluation" of its capital, such criticism is not without validity. As not only the premodern Sinitic system but also and especially postwar Japan have amply proven, Asianism is open to the pitfalls of being debased to a justification for invading Asia. Consequently, we cannot stress enough the caution that any musing on Asia should never be confused with an expanded version of jingoistic nationalism.
Some time ago, I read with great interest T?y? -no Ris? [ The Ideals of the East ; 東洋の理想], a work which begins with the famous declaration, "Asia is one," and which was written by Okakura Tenshin [岡倉天心: 1862-1913], that originator of Japanese Asianism. [38] Although he is to be distinguished from the narrow and jingoistic nationalists who emerged in reaction to the pro-Europeanism that pervaded Japan after the Meiji Restoration, by privileging Japan as "the true storehouse consigned to safeguard Asian thoughts and cultures," [39] Okakura nonetheless provides grounds for the charge that his Asianism was merely a more sophisticated version of nationalism. What is more noteworthy, however, is the fact that his variety of Asianism had been learned from the West. It was Ernest Fenollosa (1853-1908), the American-born professor at Tokyo Imperial University, who had first led Okakura to study Japanese art. Appointed as a philosophy professor, Fenollosa became a great admirer as well as a pioneer of Japanese art, eventually to exert a strong influence on the Japanese government's cultural policies. And Okakura was his foremost student. [40]
His book also includes a preface by Nivedita―or Margaret Noble, an Englishwoman born in Northern Ireland. After hearing a lecture on theosophy given by Vivekananda, she had abandoned her profession as a schoolteacher and had moved to Calcutta, India, in 1899, even to take an Indian name. This woman was none other than Okakura's Indian partner. Indeed, it was in India (1901-1902) that he finished and corrected the manuscript and, during the process, Nivedita served as a de facto partner in completing the book. [41] Seen thus, it is uncanny that "Asia, the Great Mother, is one," a passage from Nivedita's preface, can be shortened to Okakura's "Asia is one." At any rate, we ought to remember that Okakura's Asianism, which was based on the ideal of reviving Asian spirituality as a supplement to Western practicality, was enforced by an Englishwoman captivated by the intellectual atmosphere of Bengal, the origin of Asianism itself.
It is indeed a terrible irony that Okakura's Asianism should have had its roots in the Orientalism of Westerners enamored of the East, albeit in a different sense. When we consider a few facts, however, this turns out to be no surprise at all. Indian Asianism likewise was affected to no little degree by Western intellectuals' "discovery" of the majesty of ancient Indian philosophy. [42] In addition, Bengal, the home of Tagore, India's greatest Asianist, was the first region in the subcontinent to come under direct rule by Britain. [43] We can then say that Asianism was no voluntary and intrinsic movement but one shaped by a sense of otherness vis- -vis the West. Perhaps the unusual prevalence of Asianism in India and Japan was spurred by these two nations' thorough exposure to the Western impact from the earliest years. This in turn leads us to China, a problematic nation. Why did Asianism fail to become a major issue in the Middle Kingdom, which underwent disastrous conflicts with the West after incomparably early contacts? The answer may lie in the fact that China, unlike India or Japan―the former was colonized from early on and the latter turned into an invader of Asia in order to avoid the same fate―never completely lost her sovereignty even while in a semi-colonial state. Thus faced with the pressing issue of preserving its nationhood, how could China have made any extensive use of the key word, "Asia"? Nor must we forget that even Sun Yat-sen's Asianism, an exception among Chinese thinkers and activists, was but a "China-centered strategy" linked to the invasive Asianists of Japan and aimed at gaining Japanese support through an implicit acknowledgement of Japanese rule over Korea. [44] In other words, it was a maimed version of Asianism.
Likewise, the early Asianism of both India and Japan, which had attempted to synthesize the East and the West, was to go different ways in accordance with the dissimilar historical development of the two nations. With the replacement of Tagore by Gandhi, who declared the conquest of the West by Asian spirituality, Indian Asianism later turned into a principle of national independence. As for Japanese Asianism, which discarded the spirituality of a brand of Asianism that was to replace Western civilization and veered to nationalism, it transformed itself into a logic justifying the invasion of Asia. However, hints of such mutations had already existed in Okakura's synthesis of nationalism and cosmopolitanism. He had but translated into Japanese terms Indian Asianism, which had placed India at the center of Asian spirituality. As such, the Japanese variety of Asianism was to wander all over Asia as a pitiful specter from thence. In other words, Japanese Asianism, submerged in a contradiction where it "proclaimed Asia as one party and the West as its counterpart," [45] ended up as the completion―and not a negation―of the West or Japan's imitation of the West by neglecting Asian principles in the name of "Asia."
This is why the new theory of East Asia cannot and must not follow in the footsteps of either China's Sinicism or Japan's Asianism, which attempted to supplant the former. Nor is the spiritually-oriented Asianism of the Indian subcontinent―be it Tagore's way or Gandhi's directive―to be our guiding light, for it is naively dichotomous thus to place the Asian spirit in such marked contrast with the material civilization of the West. However, this of course does not mean that we should discard the fundamental task of seeking for the germ of alternatives to existing civilization that can overcome capitalism in the traditional wisdom of Asia. While working on this as a long-term task, we should in the mean time devote more energy to the formation of channels by which the populace of various Asian nations and peoples, for long mired in mutual conflict and hostilities, can coalesce. This is why the double task of freeing ourselves from both the specter of Asianism and the consequent absence of a sense of Asian solidarity becomes all the more important at this moment.
What must be kept in mind during the process, however, is that we would do well to disregard the statement "Asia is one," at least for the time being. For, as we have already witnessed in the case of Okakura, lurking behind this proposition is a design, unconscious and conscious, to dominate Asia as its master by privileging the country from which the speaker originates. After all, just how could Asia be "one"? Instead, let us acknowledge the rich diversity of the region. Only by doing so will we be able concretely to advance the task of diligently forging small alliances in each area within Asia without overlooking the larger framework. How then are we to unravel that Gordian knot, the question of East Asia? This remains our homework. Obviously, the key would lie in the people of both Koreas, which are located in the center of the knot, to overcome with great wisdom the national division system. But this will depend not only on the strength of Koreans themselves but also on the variable of winning the understanding of the four surrounding superpowers, which for long have been ensnared in a complex web of conflict regarding the Korean Peninsula. In particular, solidarity between South Korea and Japan is the crux here. Up to the present, relations between the two nations have developed basically as a weak popular alliance based on continued political and economic ties. This, of course, will get us nowhere. With the joint hosting of the 2001 World Cup as an opportunity, we must seriously ponder on a new way of fundamentally overcoming the existing framework of South Korean-Japanese relations. For, as the poet Yi Sang-hwa [李尙和] sang,

Could one avoid going at any time? If go one must, let us go on, instead of being dragged along!