By David Tizzard
This piece could be about the ongoing "comfort women" dispute between South Korea and Japan which, despite international agreements in 1965 and 2015 as well as various apologies and money paid, still rages with little sign of abating, particularly under the current administrations.
Further fuel was added to the dangerous fire recently when two statues were erected in Pyeongchang, South Korea, supposedly depicting Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe bowing to a seated comfort woman.
The artist has denied that the kowtowing male is a deliberate and intentional reference to the Japanese leader, saying, "The man represents anyone in a position of responsibility who could sincerely apologize to the victims of sexual slavery, now or in the future. It could even be the girl's father."
To be clear, Japan's actions in forcing women into sexual slavery were abhorrent. There are also genuine concerns about Japan's refusal to face the reality of its history and instead use revisionist textbooks to whitewash many of the crimes the Japanese committed.
Thus, their many apologies to South Korea over the decades have been either ignored or declared not genuine. And that is fair enough. It is the decision of South Korean citizens whether or not Korea wishes to accept the apologies that have been proffered.
Domestically things are just as difficult, however.
The Korean Council for Justice and Remembrance for the Issues of Military Sexual Slavery by Japan, a civic group established to provide the necessary and important support to the victims, was forced to apologize in May this year when it was revealed that the "healing center" property it bought in Gyeongi Province for 750 million won (largely from donations) was not used to provide shelter to the women who needed it, but was instead lived in by the group's leaders and used to hold workshops, retreats, and barbecues.
Some Vietnamese also still hold out hope that South Korea will apologize to its women who suffered similar treatment during the American War (as they call it) that raged on its land for more than two decades until finally the communist North defeated the "American imperialists" and united the country. These reports fill the international press but do not get much coverage here, which is not surprising.
When such issues cross international waters and become entangled in historical animosities and lingering Cold War mentalities, as well as serving the interests of the ruling parties, progress becomes very difficult. I do not expect to solve any of them nor do I believe that there will soon be a history book written about the period on which all parties (the Koreans, the Japanese, the Chinese, and the Vietnamese) could agree. History is a difficult thing at the best of times ― a set of lies agreed upon, apparently.
When the issues are domestic and contemporary, however, surely the process should become a little easier?
A new book in Korean by Kim Ju-hee titled "Lady Credit: The Face and Finance of Prostitution" (2020, Hyunshil Munhwa) seeks to explain the development of the undeniable and visible sex trade that grips South Korea today.
Importantly, it seeks to untangle the paradox of how the anti-prostitution Special Law on Sex Trade passed in 2004, prohibiting the buying and selling of sex as well as seeking the closing of brothels, a decision that was protested against in the streets by more than 2,000 sex workers, happened at the same time that corporate prostitution in the country began to boom. How can something be made illegal and at the same time increase its profitability dramatically?
A cursory glance at history would suggest Al Capone and the billions he made selling alcohol during prohibition would surely offer an easy answer, but let's try to keep things Korean for now.
The author suggests that prostitution in Korea is seen as a profitable business and has been largely embraced by the public economy since the early 2000s as part of a broader economic shift toward neo-liberalism. Money has essentially replaced morality.
In advancing her argument on the rise of corporate prostitution in South Korea, the author interviews women who have worked in the industry, as well as the managers of Gangnam room salons, activists, male customers, money lenders and real estate agents to create a full and detailed picture of the structure of this lucrative, organized, and yet still highly illegal operation.
With such a broad collection of people required to help keep this multi-million dollar industry revolving (reports range from saying it produces 8 trillion won to 30 trillion won annually), Kim's suggestion is that the entire society is participating in what is unfolding and not just a few bad apples. The problem is much deeper and will not be removed by simply making scapegoats of a few people, putting their names in the paper, and throwing them in jail.
The women are economic agents, perhaps objects, in a larger structure: their bodies are seen as collateral. This is evidenced in the book's investigation into the 2011 J Savings Bank case in which people without capital received loans from banks to set up "entertainment industry" venues and the female workers who were to serve in the venue were presented as collateral to demonstrate the economic viability.
It is business. It is profitable. And women's bodies are the product and the source of funding.
With rising tuition costs, the book also explores those females who enter the industry to pay for their education, whether at the undergraduate, graduate, or post-graduate level. A side-effect of this is that during university exam times, the "entertainment" venues in Gangnam and beyond are often short-staffed with the workers needing to prepare for their finals.
The author suggests that what should be a moral question has been reduced to economic logic and the necessity of survival. For many, the neo-liberal world and rising capitalist struggles has left many seemingly with little choice but to exchange what they have (their bodies) for money to achieve their dreams ― or perhaps even just survive. Banks, estate agents, credit card companies, and other organizations engage and support this because, quite simply, it makes economic sense.
No longer is the question about the "evil pimps" and the "immoral buyers of sex". The neo-liberal world has turned the question into a financial one. Dreams cost money.
The challenge that the author presents to Korea is that the sex trade has to be analyzed from a political and economic perspective to better understand its position and role in society. Only that will help the country deal with the issue properly for it is in those realms that the money and the people are deeply intertwined.
The book appears to be a necessary investigation into something obvious here and around which serious discussion could be had. However, I doubt that many politicians will use it and champion its cause in a bid to get elected. Not really a vote winner, is it?
David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University where he teaches Korean Studies. He discusses the week's hottest issues on TBS eFM (101.3FM) on "Life Abroad" live every Thursday from 9:35 a.m. to 10 a.m.
This piece could be about the ongoing "comfort women" dispute between South Korea and Japan which, despite international agreements in 1965 and 2015 as well as various apologies and money paid, still rages with little sign of abating, particularly under the current administrations.
Further fuel was added to the dangerous fire recently when two statues were erected in Pyeongchang, South Korea, supposedly depicting Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe bowing to a seated comfort woman.
The artist has denied that the kowtowing male is a deliberate and intentional reference to the Japanese leader, saying, "The man represents anyone in a position of responsibility who could sincerely apologize to the victims of sexual slavery, now or in the future. It could even be the girl's father."
To be clear, Japan's actions in forcing women into sexual slavery were abhorrent. There are also genuine concerns about Japan's refusal to face the reality of its history and instead use revisionist textbooks to whitewash many of the crimes the Japanese committed.
Thus, their many apologies to South Korea over the decades have been either ignored or declared not genuine. And that is fair enough. It is the decision of South Korean citizens whether or not Korea wishes to accept the apologies that have been proffered.
Domestically things are just as difficult, however.
The Korean Council for Justice and Remembrance for the Issues of Military Sexual Slavery by Japan, a civic group established to provide the necessary and important support to the victims, was forced to apologize in May this year when it was revealed that the "healing center" property it bought in Gyeongi Province for 750 million won (largely from donations) was not used to provide shelter to the women who needed it, but was instead lived in by the group's leaders and used to hold workshops, retreats, and barbecues.
Some Vietnamese also still hold out hope that South Korea will apologize to its women who suffered similar treatment during the American War (as they call it) that raged on its land for more than two decades until finally the communist North defeated the "American imperialists" and united the country. These reports fill the international press but do not get much coverage here, which is not surprising.
When such issues cross international waters and become entangled in historical animosities and lingering Cold War mentalities, as well as serving the interests of the ruling parties, progress becomes very difficult. I do not expect to solve any of them nor do I believe that there will soon be a history book written about the period on which all parties (the Koreans, the Japanese, the Chinese, and the Vietnamese) could agree. History is a difficult thing at the best of times ― a set of lies agreed upon, apparently.
When the issues are domestic and contemporary, however, surely the process should become a little easier?
A new book in Korean by Kim Ju-hee titled "Lady Credit: The Face and Finance of Prostitution" (2020, Hyunshil Munhwa) seeks to explain the development of the undeniable and visible sex trade that grips South Korea today.
Importantly, it seeks to untangle the paradox of how the anti-prostitution Special Law on Sex Trade passed in 2004, prohibiting the buying and selling of sex as well as seeking the closing of brothels, a decision that was protested against in the streets by more than 2,000 sex workers, happened at the same time that corporate prostitution in the country began to boom. How can something be made illegal and at the same time increase its profitability dramatically?
A cursory glance at history would suggest Al Capone and the billions he made selling alcohol during prohibition would surely offer an easy answer, but let's try to keep things Korean for now.
The author suggests that prostitution in Korea is seen as a profitable business and has been largely embraced by the public economy since the early 2000s as part of a broader economic shift toward neo-liberalism. Money has essentially replaced morality.
In advancing her argument on the rise of corporate prostitution in South Korea, the author interviews women who have worked in the industry, as well as the managers of Gangnam room salons, activists, male customers, money lenders and real estate agents to create a full and detailed picture of the structure of this lucrative, organized, and yet still highly illegal operation.
With such a broad collection of people required to help keep this multi-million dollar industry revolving (reports range from saying it produces 8 trillion won to 30 trillion won annually), Kim's suggestion is that the entire society is participating in what is unfolding and not just a few bad apples. The problem is much deeper and will not be removed by simply making scapegoats of a few people, putting their names in the paper, and throwing them in jail.
The women are economic agents, perhaps objects, in a larger structure: their bodies are seen as collateral. This is evidenced in the book's investigation into the 2011 J Savings Bank case in which people without capital received loans from banks to set up "entertainment industry" venues and the female workers who were to serve in the venue were presented as collateral to demonstrate the economic viability.
It is business. It is profitable. And women's bodies are the product and the source of funding.
With rising tuition costs, the book also explores those females who enter the industry to pay for their education, whether at the undergraduate, graduate, or post-graduate level. A side-effect of this is that during university exam times, the "entertainment" venues in Gangnam and beyond are often short-staffed with the workers needing to prepare for their finals.
The author suggests that what should be a moral question has been reduced to economic logic and the necessity of survival. For many, the neo-liberal world and rising capitalist struggles has left many seemingly with little choice but to exchange what they have (their bodies) for money to achieve their dreams ― or perhaps even just survive. Banks, estate agents, credit card companies, and other organizations engage and support this because, quite simply, it makes economic sense.
No longer is the question about the "evil pimps" and the "immoral buyers of sex". The neo-liberal world has turned the question into a financial one. Dreams cost money.
The challenge that the author presents to Korea is that the sex trade has to be analyzed from a political and economic perspective to better understand its position and role in society. Only that will help the country deal with the issue properly for it is in those realms that the money and the people are deeply intertwined.
The book appears to be a necessary investigation into something obvious here and around which serious discussion could be had. However, I doubt that many politicians will use it and champion its cause in a bid to get elected. Not really a vote winner, is it?
David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University where he teaches Korean Studies. He discusses the week's hottest issues on TBS eFM (101.3FM) on "Life Abroad" live every Thursday from 9:35 a.m. to 10 a.m.
