First Impressions of History
By Michael Breen
In Pyongyang in 1945, Han Nae-bok went to a stadium to see Kim Il-sung introduced by Soviet handlers for the first time. He doesn't remember much about it. But that's normal, especially for a 19-year-old who probably had more important things on his mind.
The history books tell us the event ― of which all school children in North Korea learn a version ― was at the Pyongyang Municipal Stadium on Oct. 14. The venue would later be renamed the Kim Il Sung Stadium and the year would become Juche 34 on the North Korean calendar, by which Kim's birth year of 1912 is Year One.
That future was not apparent then. Han did not know he was witnessing history, nor that, thanks to the men on the stage, it would take such an ugly turn so quickly. In fact, the most important thing that day was Kim's youth.
``There had been announcements about the arrival of the folk hero guerrilla leader Kim Il-sung. Many people went to welcome him," said Han, who was curious like everyone else. The crowd had expected a man in his 50s, not a youngster in his early 30s. ``My impression was that he was good-looking, youthful, but rather too plump." This debut is the source of later accusations, apparently not true, that Kim, whose original given name was Song-ju, had stolen another man's name and legend.
``There was no commotion when he spoke, but on the way home people in the crowd were talking among themselves and saying he was a fake," Han remembered. Later in South Korea, Han became a reporter for the Korea Herald and The Far Eastern Economic Review, the English-language magazine of record about Asia.
Had he been one then, he might have got some colorful quotes. But then, what would the story have been? Young Guerrilla Disappoints the People? Soviets Pick a Fat Boy?
He would have backed his story with quotes from Kim's speech. As it is, Han doesn't recall anything about it, except he guesses Kim downplayed the communism part and avoided over-praising the Soviets and their leader, Josef Stalin.
``People were eager for freedom and democracy (after liberation from Japan)," he said. ``Because of Japanese propaganda, they knew vaguely that communism was not free. So the communists then were careful and didn't even use the word communism at first." People also knew the Soviets hadn't had much to do with the defeat of Japan in World War II.
Han saw Kim one more time in the auditorium of the provincial government building where he worked as a junior clerk. A former school, it had been taken over by the Soviets. He doesn't remember much else.
That may seem to be a pity, because for the rest of us the recollections of an eyewitness make history real. But it is how we, too, view what becomes history when, at the time, it doesn't stand out from other concerns of the day.
We are living in the days of Roh Moo-hyun and Kim Jong-il, when North Korea tested nuclear weapons and South Korea's retired president killed himself. But how many of us skipped those headlines and clicked instead to the one about the arrival in Korea of Naked News or another story about a movie star?
The best way to recall detail is keep telling the story, but an event has to be meaningful for that. If you ask someone to describe a church service 50 years ago, the chances are they can't ― unless it was when they had their conversion experience or met their future husband. Then, provided they've told the story a lot of times, they'll even recall the creak of the wooden pew and the nicotine stains on the vicar's fingers. (Yes, children, even doctors smoked then).
The bigger the event in our lives, the more time seems to mess with it. The few days before my mother died last year moved very slowly for me. But when I stood at the doorstep of her house as the undertakers took her away in a black bag, a scene my brothers chose not to watch, time rushed away from that unrecoverable moment with ferocious acceleration. In no time, it was an hour past, then a day, then a week.
The nature of time is such that most events, once no longer talked about, end up on the shelf of our memory, gathering dust. That can be true even of the most dramatic. After the outbreak of the war, during his trek south, Han was in a group of refugees strafed by an American jet. ``We ran from one embankment to the other," he said. ``My memory is so hazy... Actually, I think some people were killed."
Michael Breen is chairman of Insight Communications Consultants and exclusive partner of FD International. He can be reached at mike.breen@insightcomms.com.