By Kim Ji-soo
Staff reporter
Red, the color of the Red Devils fan squad for the Korean football team is replacing the verdant green nationwide. The national squad plays its first match Saturday against Greece in South Africa.
The streets of Seoul are awash with flashes of red as red shirts, red cheering mufflers, red bandannas and whatnot appear. On television, images, particularly product commercials have all become red.
The now famous image of the Red Devils filling up Seoul Plaza during the 2002 South Korea-Japan World Cup games is omnipresent, heightening the anticipation for the world's soccer festival.
All in all, it's a nice complement to the thickening summer greenery.
Before the Red Devils amassed in 2002, I largely associated such a massive clump of red as negative. Like the congregation of North Koreans in their capital on special occasions there. No doubt it was the remnant of years of "red scares" drilled in to me during my grade school years in the 1970s and1980s. But the Red Devils' use of the color was about play and festivities, in the very place where democracy protests were held.
When Korean footballer Cha Doo-ri raised the national flag over his head in joy after winning a game during the 2002 games, many in the nation noted, positively, how at ease he was with the Taegeukgi.
Through the 2002 World Cup games, the country noted how far it had come from its past and how young Koreans were evolving. At the June 2 local elections, the neck-and-neck contest for Seoul mayoralty was one of the most exciting dramas in recent political history.
The now two-time winner and Mayor Oh Se-hoon (Grand National Party) and his challenger Han Myung-sook (Democratic Party) presented a real draw. Han was seen to be trailing behind Oh after the polls closed on that day, and throughout the night as the votes were counted, the two traded the lead only for Oh to emerge as the winner early the next morning.
No wonder Han declared her defeat a "victory" while Oh acknowledged his victory as a "defeat." Election watchers noted 54.5 percent of voters turned out for the elections. They further analyzed that young voters in their 20s, 30s and 40s showed a high voting participation and selected candidates largely with their interests in mind, rather than the regional affiliations that had marked Korean local elections in the past.
Young voters have changed in that they are making demands as taxpayers rather than siding with someone because of regional, educational or other ties. The security worries over the March 26 sinking of a South Korean frigate did not sway the voters as much.
These subtle changes in Korean psyche have been coming gradually. The people are now more confident, freer of their past tragedy and looking forward.
But these changes seem to hold a larger meaning as when we consider Korea's geopolitical situation in the 21st century; and as we mark the 60th anniversary of the tragic, fratricidal Korean War (1950-1953).
The younger generation of Koreans has no experience of that war. Recently a leading daily carried a series of stories of people who experienced the Korean War firsthand.
After reading those stories, as part of the postwar generation myself, I have to admit, I found it so much easier to relate to the elder generation's dogged push to survive, to overcome poverty and to get rich.
Lost in the process is the communication, the sharing of stories between generations. What does it really mean to live through conflict, tragedy and poverty?
It's time for different generations to restart talking and listening to each other so that we can more broadly outline our future in the 21st century.
It's a new century but the geopolitical situation is largely the same: two powerful neighbors and one truculent North Korea. How will we define our lives now, in terms other than an IT powerhouse, one of the four East Asian dragon economies and the last remaining Cold War country?