
The Supreme Court's recent decision to compensate Shinhan Engineering and Construction at the expense of the estate of the late actress Choi Jin-sil reveals a troubling inequality at the core of Korean society. In handing down its ruling, the country's top court censured Choi for coming forward and declaring herself a victim of domestic violence, saying it constituted a failure to maintain proper ``social and moral honor."
Even a casual observer of current events would not have failed to notice the contrast between this position and the posthumous treatment of former President Roh Moo-hyun. While Choi's reputation lies in tatters following Shinhan's successful litigation, the late former President is being hailed as a martyr, a bastion of decency who crumbled under the pressure of a dictatorial regime.
All differences aside (and there are many), there remains a striking parallel that will bind the pair in the public's memory for years to come: Choi and Roh, both high-profile public figures, resorted to suicide amid personal and legal storms.
In post-war Japan, suicide was viewed as a redemptive gesture ― a form of apology on behalf of one's self or others. There can be little doubt that such a view persists in contemporary Korea. Nor can it be argued that redemption was not the ultimate motive behind the late former President's desperate act. Strange though it may seem to outside observers, it was a foregone conclusion in the minds of most Koreans that Roh's death should ― by default ― absolve him of all transgressions. Such is the tremendous power and symbolism of taking one's own life.
Considering that the former President's suicide won him a reprieve from investigation and ― more than that ― cleansed from the collective memory the fact that he was deeply unpopular at the time he left office, one cannot help but wonder why the same grace has not been extended to Choi Jin-sil. Indeed, far from bringing to an end the ordeals she faced in life, her death appears to have compounded her woes. Unlike Roh's persecutors, who were quickly called off, Shinhan was permitted to drive forward in seeking recompense from a woman whose only crime was to be the victim of an abusive husband. Has the rehabilitative power of suicide worked its charm in the case of Choi Jin-sil? Certainly not.
Why have citizens been left to reconcile such a blatant double standard? The clear message of the Supreme Court's ruling is that victims of domestic violence have somehow brought it upon themselves, that women like Choi Jin-sil have stepped out of line and upset society's Confucian balance by displacing men from their natural roles as breadwinners and heads of household. For this they deserve legal punishment.
In rendering their decision, the country's top court has proven itself to be little more than a mouthpiece of Confucian ideology: devoid of compassion or common sense. Regrettably, aside from the protestations of a few women's groups, there is no sign of the public outcry that delivered Roh Moo-hyun. Although one may be inclined to wonder why, the answer is simple enough. The groups that have rushed to defend the late former President are more interested in scoring points against a beleaguered political opponent than grappling with injustice or inequality. Be it the government, the opposition, or the courts, the leading voices of the moment belong to those who seek to perpetuate the values of patriarchy.
It appears quite likely that the Roh family will retain their ill-gotten fortune. Meanwhile, in the case of Choi Jin-sil, the court has worked assiduously to deprive the actress's two young daughters of a substantial portion of their inheritance. Of far greater significance, however, is the message the decision sends to the thousands nationwide who suffer daily the effects of an epidemic of domestic violence.
The writer lives in Gwangju and teaches at Gwangju National University of Education (GNUE). He can be reached at eltonlaclare@hotmail.com.