A senior citizens’ home for Sakhalin returnees in Goryeong, North Gyeongsang Province houses dozens of former laborers who were forced to serve Japanese during World War II. / Korea Times File |
This is the fourth in a series of articles highlighting the lives of Koreans in Sakhalin.
By Andrei Lankov
Korea Times Columnist
SAKHALIN ― For decades, Sakhalin Koreans had a dream. They wanted to go home, to South Korea. Back in the 1930s and early 1940s, most of them did not want to go to Sakhalin in the first place, and even those who did assumed that their stay would be short. However, in 1945 they were locked on the island.
By the early 1970s, this desire for repatriation was cooling down. Most were reconciled with their fate, and some positively enjoyed it.
However, in 1974 a sudden change in the situation led to a revival of hope ― with tragic consequences, however. The Soviet authorities for a brief while came close to allowing the repatriation and then changed their mind.
This produced a wave of agitation that led to the unprecedented emergence of political activism. Feeling insecure, the government inflicted an unusual but terrifying punishment on the most prominent leaders of the repatriation movement, silencing dissent for over a decade.
In the 1970s, the Soviet government began to allow Jews to leave the country. This signaled a change in the Soviet approach to emigration, which used to be uncompromisingly negative. These changes were felt at Sakhalin, too.
In 1974, the Japanese government stated that it would accept those Sakhalin Koreans who would be allowed to go by the Soviet authorities. It was assumed that most of them would go to South Korea. Surprisingly, the Japanese offer was accepted by Moscow.
Initially, it was assumed that numbers would be small, dozens, perhaps. But things took another turn. To the embarrassment of Moscow, hundreds, and then thousands, of the Sakhalin Koreans were willing to apply. This was a potential humiliation.
The North Koreans also put great pressure on Moscow, demanding the process be stopped. So in 1976, the decision was reversed. Soviet authorities declared that no repatriation would take place.
This came as a shock to many older Koreans whose cherished dream suddenly collapsed after being so close to realization.
Sakhalin, like most Soviet countryside, was habitually docile in matters of politics, but this time a spontaneous repatriation movement began to unroll.
In late 1976, the family of To Mang-san who lived in the small town of Korsakov, on the southern coast of the island, undertook a desperate measure. They staged a demonstration in front of the local Party office. They held placards that expressed their demand: "Let us go!"
The Soviet Union of the late 1970s was a relatively liberal place if compared to Stalin's era, but still far less liberal than, say, South Korea under the "iron-fisted rule" of General Park Chung-hee. The Korsakov demonstration was a dangerous and unprecedented challenge, and Soviet authorities reacted swiftly.
Unfortunately, To Mang-san and his family members held North Korean citizenship, although they initially came to the island from the South.
Available documents do not clarify when and how they acquired it. It seems that they were among those Sakhalin Koreans who in the late 1950s took North Korean citizenship, being driven by nationalist feelings. This decision backfired.
In early 1977, To Mang-san and his family were extradited to North Korea as undesirable aliens. Soon, they were followed by three other families of prominent repatriation activists. Throughout 1977, 40 Sakhalin Koreans were sent (essentially as prisoners under armed guard) to the border railway station of Khasan where they were transferred to the North Korean authorities.
The Soviet government saved itself from the embarrassment of putting in prison people whose only crime was a desire to go back to their native lands.
At the same time, everybody understood. Sending these people to North Korea likely meant a death sentence. Indeed, in 1977 North Korea was the world's worst dictatorship (well, second to that of Pol Pot, who was still in power). The North Korean authorities would not treat nicely people who technically were North Korean citizens, but openly expressed their wish to go to South Korea, more so since they initiated a movement which nearly led to a serious loss of face by the Pyongyang regime. At best, those "traitors" would be sent to prison camps, but it seems probable that they all were put to death almost immediately.
After 1990, the families, as well as NGOs and Soviet agencies, made inquiries about the fate of those people.
Needless to say, Pyongyang remained silent.
The story terrified the community, whose members by that time had no illusions about North Korea whatsoever. The repatriation movement was dead. An activist's son explained to me the position of his father: "My father once told me: 'Perhaps, I would not be that afraid of a prison. But they could send me to North Korea, together with all of you. And this is much, much worse than going to prison. North Korea is a hell.' So my father dropped out."
Meanwhile, more and more Sakhalin Koreans applied for Soviet citizenship after 1970. Those who had previously acquired North Korean citizenship had to formally renounce it and produce a proper certificate from a North Korean consulate. Such a certificate was never issued, so officials advised the applicants to send their North Korean passport to the consulate by registered mail. The postal receipt had to mention the envelope content. That is, in this case, a valid North Korean passport. After no reply was received for at least six months, the paperwork could begin. By the early 1980s, a majority of Sakhalin Koreans were neither stateless persons nor overseas citizens of the DPRK. They were Soviet citizens, though their loyalty, to be frank, was not always perfect.
The writer is an associate professor of Kookmin University in Seoul. He can be reached at anlankov@yahoo.com.
|
무디스, 스페인·伊·포르투갈 신용등급 강등
