Mother of All Workers Lives in Son’s Words
By Chung Ah-young
Staff Reporter
Lee So-seon, 80, lost her eldest son in her 40s. After her son, Chun Tae-il, a labor activist, burned himself to death on Nov. 13 in 1970 to protest against brutal working conditions, she is remembered as the mother of the labor ``martyr'' who triggered the democratic workers movement in the '70s.
Although she couldn't live with her son, she has been a ``mother to all laborers'' by contributing to the country's labor movement through the hard times.
``Couldn't Thank You Enough'' written by Oh Do-yeop and published by Humanitas pens the story of her life marked by the vicissitudes of the turbulent times through the labor activities sparked by her son.
The book is not a biography but it is a thorough recording of her life, rather than focusing on the heroic figure Tae-il. The author wrote the book after interviewing her for 500 days starting in the fall of 2006.
She was often seen at labor rallies with a red band around her head, along with other trade union members until quite recently. Lee has been actively engaged in the labor movement, openly criticizing the government's labor policies particularly on the non-permanent workers' problem. But also, she sometimes bashed the unions when she thought they didn't speak for laborers' rights.
However, it was not easy for the author to make her speak about her traumatic life in which her son self-immolated himself. Lee would often get sick for few days after reliving the memory of her son, the author said.
Born in 1929, she lived in a poor family, married a poor man and had four children including Tae-il. Lee moved to Seoul from Daegu in 1969 to make a living but her family had to scatter around the unfamiliar city because of a lack of money. Her husband suddenly died amidst the poverty-stricken life.
After making his living selling newspapers and gum, polishing shoes or helping street vendors push their heavy carts around the city, Tae-il finally began working at Pyeonghwa Market as a cloth cutter.
Tae-il always talked to her about the workplace, mostly the miserable conditions of the young female workers. She remembered a dusty sweatshop too cramped for workers to even stretch their backs in which young girls were forced to work 16-hour shifts like machines and never once saw daylight, sometimes coughing up blood from tuberculosis.
``He was very kind and philanthropic. He always helped other fellow factory workers. He gave everything he had to others who needed it,'' Lee recalled.
Upon learning that there was a Labor Standards Law, Tae-il bought a book about the legislation and studied it thoroughly with the help of educated neighbors, reading it over and over again.
On Nov. 13, 1970, Tae-il asked his mother to come to his demonstration at the market but she didn't go without knowing it would be the last time she saw him. Lee later learned that Tae-il set himself on fire with gasoline, screaming, ``Abide by the labor laws! We are not machines,'' before collapsing and being fatally injured by the flames.
``Students and employees should unite to win the fight. If they go separate, we cannot win. In the darkness, poor and weak young workers are becoming patients of tuberculosis and going blind and their bodies are being worn out. Seeing this, I can't bear it any more. Although I tried as much as I can, it just doesn't get any better. So I choose death, so that with my death, there would be a tiny hole in the darkness. Please, mother, you should continue this fight to help workers get back their rights. Do not let my death be in vain,'' Tae-il told his mother in hospital.
The incident shocked not only the nation but also the world. His ultimate sacrifice at the age of 22 triggered the Korean workers' movement and the development of independent unions. These democratic trade unions attacked by the then military dictatorship eventually helped fuel the largest social protests in the history of Korea.
At the hour of his death, Lee answered her son, saying ``Don't worry, although my body may be broken into pieces, I will do what you want.'' But she never forgot his last word, ``Mother, I'm hungry'' just before he died.
Since then, she has lived by his words, fighting against iron-fisted governments and the merciless factory owners. Along with Tae-il's co-workers, she organized a labor union in the Pyeonghwa Market.
``They (Tae-il's friends) just called me mother. I also thought of them as my sons. I helped and supported them as far as I could. But I am still sorry for not preparing enough meals for them,'' she said.
``Many people told me my son was a martyr. But for any parent, could a child be a martyr? A son is just a son. Tae-il was neither a martyr nor a fighter. He was just a person who really loved people around him … He was just a comrade not a martyr. He is still with the workers,'' she said.
Although her son's death changed her life forever, it was not all that defined her. The author emphasized that she is a philanthropic figure too. She was a ``mother of beggars'' in the Jungang Market where she worked in the early years when she came to Seoul, helping beggars there although she was poor too.
``I have lived in an almost crazy state after Tae-il died but how can others live like me? For just one day or a few months, some people have fought with me. I am thankful and thankful to all. I couldn't thank enough to them,'' she said.